Huck Out West Read online

  “Any Indians?”

  “Yes, sir. You’ll find them whichever way you go. The Lakota killed some folks up there a few years back and burnt a couple of towns down, but mostly they ain’t much bother.”

  “We ain’t afeard. It is our mission to bring them pore ignorant savages to the loving booz’m of our Lord Jesus.”

  I seen they was a group who had their own milk cow and chuck wagon, so whilst they was struggling to wind their oxes around, I walked over to see if the cookie couldn’t find me a biscuit or at least some coffee. He was a tall Negro fellow with curly gray frizzle above his big ears, and when he turned around, my heart jumped in my chest like a poked frog.

  “You looks dog-hungry, Huck honey,” Jim says with a big gaptooth grin on his face. “What you says to a stack uv flapperjacks?”

  CHAPTER IX

  ELL, I AIN’T never been more joyfuller surprised. I give Jim a big hug, I couldn’t help myself. He’d took on a few pounds and give up some hair and teeth, but it was old Jim his own self! I begun crying and Jim he was crying, too. We hugged again and some a the emigrants was watching us like it was a scandal to them, but we couldn’t give a dead rat what they thought. “Lawsy!” Jim says. “I never jedged to lay eyes on you agin, chile!” At that moment, we was all by ourselves on the Big River again.

  Jim offered me to stow my rubbage behind the chuck box to ease up Jackson’s load, and let me hitch the old fellow alongside, so I done that whilst he was cooking up the flapjacks, the two of us blattering away without stopping. We both had a thousand things to tell. I told him about the Pony and Tom and Becky and about Ben Rogers and Dan and General Hard Ass, and he told me about life with the Cherokee and the wicked slave owner he got sold to and how the reverend and his missus saved him and set him free again and how he got lost but Jesus found him somewheres and fetched him home again.

  I tucked into his flapjacks and told him they was the best thing I ever tasted since before we all come west, and he spread his gaptooth grin again and cooked up another stack. It was like when we was back on the river and Jim was waking me up with a catfish fry. I showed off my own gaps and let out a little whoop. It just popped out. I was feeling mighty peaceful. Even if the general come to hang me, I could die a contented man.

  I told him how I went looking for him at the Cherokee Nation to try and buy him back, but they says he was sold already to some bounty hunters. Jim says them traders parsed him on to a white slaver downriver from where the war was happening, and even if he was a freedman, he warn’t sad to get sold back there because it warn’t fur from where he last seen his wife and children, and he was worried about them. But his new owner had a mean streak a yard wide, and he treated him real bad. Jim pointed to his missing teeth and raised his shirt to show me the welts on his back. “He warn’t nuffn like ole Miss Watson. She uz a considable sour ole thing, but she never k’yered to harm a soul.” I says I was nation sorry and tried to tell him it warn’t me who sold him, but he only smiled and says, “S’awright, Huck honey, nemmind. I’se free now’n I done found the Lord. I forgives you.”

  He told me how the reverend and his missus had bought him and freed him and led him to Jesus, because that was what the reverend done for a living. Folks still bossed him around and he had to work for next to nothing, but the missus wouldn’t ’low nobody to beat him nor call him names no more, he was only just Jim, and that made him comfortabler. The reverend took him to go looking for his family and says he’d buy them, too, if he could, slaves was going cheap by then, but all three of them had got sold to some miners heading to the gold fields in the Montana Territory.

  He still hoped to find them, though, and he ’lowed Jesus’d help him out it he didn’t sin no more. “I ax him ever night, Huck. Ain’ no magic dat genlman cain’ do.” He asked me if I’d found Jesus yet. I says I warn’t looking for him, and he says he warn’t neither, Jesus just kinder slid up and knocked him off of the stool he was setting on. “I reck’n’d ’at he was agwyne to fetch me off to de yuther side, so I run fer de reverend, en he tuck en rassled wid my sins for mos’n hour en arter dat Jesus’n me was bes’ frens.”

  When the war was ended and all the slaves was freed, the reverend and his missus told him he had their blessing if he wanted to leave, but as they was fixing to go preach out west, he asked to join along with them so’s to search out his family. I told Jim I wouldn’t leave him till he found them, and I meant it, but at the same time a sadful feeling leaked in on my happiness. The adventures I’d had with Jim were the wonderfullest I ever had, but they was over. If we found his wife and children there wouldn’t be no more. It’d have to be the best one.

  The missionaires had got their animals and wagons faced around in the right direction, so I went back out to lead them up towards the Trail. Their ox-drawed wagons lazed along inch by inch, nubbling away at eternity, which would a suited me fine if the general’s fort warn’t still so close by, so I done what I could to hurry them along. The missionaires was heading out to spread their fancies amongst the heathen tribes, and maybe pocket some gold and silver for the faithful whilst they was at it. They was guilty of a power of camp-meeting praying and singing whilst they was rolling along and they was all teetotalers, but other ways they was decent enough and, after what they done for Jim, I took a liking to them.

  They was also hunting for the fountain a youth which they’d learnt was out here somewheres, and they thought if they could find it, it would do them all a sight of good. Jim he had a vision, they said, that it might be up in the Montana Territory somewheres, and they asked me if I ever heard tell of it out thataway. I hain’t, but I kept quiet, s’posing Jim might be conjuring up visions that could help him try and find his family. I warn’t looking for no such thing myself. I had about the same conviction towards such notions as I had towards prospecting for gold—even if it was there, it warn’t something a body wanted. Them people was forever down on their knees yelping about crossing over out a life’s miserableness, they couldn’t hardly wait, so wanting to put it off with a soak in a water spout seemed like a counterdiction, but I didn’t say so.

  In the inbetwixt times, when I warn’t jawing with Jim, I saddled up Jackson and rode out ahead to scout for water and game. I seen a jackrabbit and shot it and took it back and Jim skinned it, but there warn’t many varmints out there volunteering theirselves for Jim’s stews. I was also scouting out for natives, and I seen some, but mostly only in my head. They was hanging from a scaffold, or lying dead or half-dead in their burning tepees, or being lined up and shot for target practice. I couldn’t shake them out no more’n I could Ben Rogers with his skull split open or Dan with his bellyful of arrows.

  Though the ride was bumpy, the reverend’s missus mostly kept to her seat on the wagon, setting there on a stack of pillows like the Queen of England, whilst the reverend he got down and walked along with everybody else. He generly took to praying with one or another of his congegration, sometimes with several at the same time; he couldn’t stop himself no more’n Charlie could stop his twitch. Jim says Brother Ezekiel was some sorter Babtis’, and on that account, we never passed a river nor a water hole, where he didn’t push somebody’s face in it. Jim commonly helped him out and sung a few songs and preached a little.

  Once when I was walking by their wagon, old Abigail stops me and says like she was scolding me, “You was friends with black slaves?”

  “No’m. Only Jim. We rafted down the Big River together. He was running away then, and I was a runaway, too.”

  “Well, he’s free now.”

  “Yes’m. I’m mighty grateful for what you and the reverend done for him.”

  “He says it was you sold him to the Indians. Someone called Mars Tom told him that. Mars Tom told him you was pore and didn’t have no education nor scruples, so a body shouldn’t blame you, and he don’t.”

  “It warn’t me who sold him, mum.”

  “No, I reckon not.” She smiled politely. “You’re running away from someth
ing now.” She don’t say it like she was asking a question, but it was one, just the same.

  I was hired to guard the wagon train as well as guide it, so it wouldn’t give her no confidence if I says I was running away from Indians or bandits. Woman troubles was not in my line and I couldn’t say I was running from Pap, because I already told her I was an orphan. Finally, I says I warn’t really running away at all, I was only a hired horse wrangler, but I warn’t happy with the work and I up and left.

  “Who was you employed for?”

  “Well . . . the army, mum. But I warn’t never a soldier. I warn’t deserting. I was only changing jobs.”

  “Did the officers say you could?”

  “No’m. I didn’t ask.”

  “So they could still come and take you away.”

  “Yes’m. But I don’t reckon they’d bother. I ain’t nobody.”

  “What was the soldiers doing whilst you was minding the horses?”

  “Just army things, mum,” I says.

  “Killing Indians?”

  “Sometimes.”

  “Did you kill any?”

  “No’m. I warn’t asked to do that.”

  “What was you asked to do?”

  I seen I was in a tight place. She was setting me up for trouble with the general. Probably his soldiers was already on the way. She was still staring my way under her white sun-bonnet with her kindly smile pasted on her face like a last judgment. I dug hard for an untroublesome answer, but she warn’t a good audience for stretchers, so finally I just let it out. “He told me to shoot all the Indians’ ponies, mum.”

  “Did you do that?”

  “No’m. But others done so.”

  “That must’ve caused you some trouble.”

  “Yes’m.”

  “So you left. You felt like it was the righteous thing to do.”

  “No’m. I was only scared.”

  Even whilst we was talking, I could see them coming, just as I had suspicioned. Three fellows in soldier blue with their brass buttons glinting in the sun. I shot for Jackson, but seen I’d noway reach him and unhitch him in time, so I jumped into an old covered farm wagon to hide out. I could hear them galloping up and asking loud if anyone had seen a scrawny runaway passing by. I was so afraid I couldn’t hardly breathe. “Might a been two of ’em together.”

  “Why, yes, we seen one,” the old reverend was saying. “A skinny young chap with a long thin beard. He was right—”

  “But that was some miles back and they was both heading t’other way,” says his missus, butting in. “They crossed by and begged for something to eat and drink. They was right hungry, as my husband was about to say. We done our Christian duty by them both and sent them on their way.”

  “Both—? But, Abigail—!”

  “Don’t try to cover up for them, Ezekiel,” says Abigail. “Always tell the truth, it’s God’s way. There WAS two of them, but they was so skinny they only jest weighed together like one. If they turned sideways in the sun, you couldn’t hardly see them at all.”

  “Did they say where they was going, ma’am?”

  “One of them said something about jining the Mormons so as to load up on a passel a fresh wives, so I lay that’s where they was aiming.”

  “That’s what my father is going to do to me, sir,” whispered someone in the wagon with me. I most jumped out of my skin. There was a pretty girl with big sad eyes setting in a dark corner. Her hands was roped together. I whispers back that I was nation sorry for busting in on her like that, and she says it don’t matter, it was a thrill to be visited by the famous Pony Express rider. But her chin was quivering. “My father has brought me out here to sell me to the Mormons for some old man’s extra wife,” she says. And, without making no noise, she begun to cry. “I feel so all alone!” she whimpered, the words half stuck in her throat. “I need somebody to help me!”

  “A crazy little fella with a twitch, ma’am?”

  “That’s him.”

  “Him and Charlie must be traveling on-sweet, Buck.”

  “’Pears like it, Rafe. Makes it easier. Catch one, catch both. But we got to turn round t’other way.”

  The bound girl was silently sobbing. It most broke my heart. I couldn’t hardly look at her eyes without busting out myself. She had dark coiled ringlets at her temples, little dimples in her cheeks, soft unpainted lips that was all a-trembly. She was the prettiest thing I ever seen.

  “We don’t hold no truck with Mormons,” Abigail was saying. “Hope none a you fellas ain’t one.”

  “No, ma’am. We’re all Christians.”

  “Well, I’m right pleased to hear it. We’re set to hold a prayer meeting. I hope you boys’ll stay and pray with us.”

  “Uh, no thanks, ma’am. We’ll be pushing on. Got to catch them two renegades and deliver ’em to their rightful punishment.”

  “Well, God bless you, then,” she says. “You boys take care. Mind the rattlesnakes.”

  When the soldiers had galloped off, the missionaires broke out in loud argufying over what the reverend’s missus had done and said. Some says it was treason and blastemy and she could get them all hung and outlawed from heaven, others that you couldn’t never trust them bluecoats and Sister Abbie was a hero and a saint to stand up to them like she done. They was talking about me, too, but I couldn’t hardly hear them. There was a loud whumping in my ears. The young girl was telling me in her soft weepy way that I had to help her run away, and I got to go with her to protect her in the wilderness.

  “Say, where is that fellow?” someone was asking, and the reverend he says, “Let us pray for guidance.”

  “We can go where you took the bleeding cattle,” the girl whispered. I mumbled what they was really called, then wished I hadn’t, because she wanted to know what THEY was and how they done whatever it was THEY done and why. She looked at me with such a sweet timid smile, tears running down her cheeks, I couldn’t think how to answer, though the widow would a wanted to wash my head out with soap if she’d knowed what was a-roaring through it. The girl set to telling me then how her cruel father would rope her wrists to her ankles, push her on her knees, face down and naked, and thrash the highest part with a horsewhip. She cast her eyes down shyly. I didn’t know where to look. “He’s wounded me most awful,” she breathed. “I can’t show you now, but when we’re alone . . .”

  Outside, the holy hallooing was winding down. I knowed that meant I’d have to go, and that’s what the young girl whispered, touching my hand with her bound ones and fairly melting my bones. “My father will be coming back now and he is a mighty hard man.” But I couldn’t move. I was desperate for something, but I didn’t know what.

  “If I pin my white hair ribbon on the back flap, it means it’s safe for you to stop by,” she whispered. She bent forwards and kissed me on the cheek, damping it with her tears. It warn’t much but it was something never happened to me before. “Now hurry! Here he comes!”

  I didn’t know where I was, but I knowed I had to be somewheres else. I slipped out the back, scrouched down for a second betwixt the big wagon wheels, then scaddled over to Jim’s chuck wagon and crept inside. I laid down behind the chuck box in all the gear I’d stowed there, touching my cheek where her wet lips had been and feeling marvelous sick, till the others found me. Love. I knowed then what it was and knowed I was most ruined by it.

  CHAPTER X

  FTER THAT SMACK, all I could think about was that pretty girl and her plan for us to run off together from her monster father. I passed back and forth behind her wagon, my eyes peeled for the hair ribbon. I didn’t even know her name, but I couldn’t think who to ask without drawing trouble down on the both of us. I tried to recollect what Tom said about distressid damzuls and what you was directed to do when one landed on you. I judged it probably warn’t the properest thing to squeeze them, but I didn’t want to do nothing else. Such thoughts was making me feel dreadful restless and uncomfortable, but whenever I rode out to ca’m myself, I rode str
aight back in again and went a-looking for the ribbon, aching all over.

  I done what all I was hired on to do, pushing their wagons off in the right direction each morning, guiding them and scouting and hunting for them by day, and then helping them set their wagons at night to circle round their livestock. Whilst they was into their nightly religious rollabouts, old Jim yelping away amongst them, I unyoked and scrubbed down their oxes and done the same for Jackson. But it was like some other body was a-doing it all. People asked me questions and I couldn’t think what they was asking.

  For the first time ever, I wanted that money Judge Thatcher was holding for me so’s I could buy the girl away from her pap and the Mormons like the reverend and his missus bought Jim. I was mighty grateful to that lady for saving me from them soldier boys, and whenever I passed her wagon I bowed my head and touched my hat brim, but if ever I sneaked towards the back of the girl’s wagon to spy around, I knowed that old lady’s eyes was on me, and could judge what was laying on my mind.