Buck and St. Joe
(Author's note: Tomorrow morning I'm moving about 600 miles away foe a teaching job. As soon as I get this posted there's a bed calling my name. But this little story insisted on being told. It's not as polished as I'd like, but it's done. Hopefully in a few weeks I can get back to Ike's Book. Enjoy!)
"Rider coming" the young women yelled. At her words a young blonde man led his horse our of the barn and mounted. The rider was coming in from the west. As quickly as possible, the two riders swapped the pouch and the blonde continued the ride east. The new young man walked his horse a bit to cool it down before dismounting.
The young woman liked his attention to the horse. "Hello." She said. "I'm Sarah. My Pa is the Station Master here. If you want, I can finish taking care of your horse. That's part of my job. The bunk house's that way." She pointed. "We've got a bath house, if you're interested. Supper will be at 5 in the main house. You probably won't be heading back west for a couple of days." While she was talking, Buck Cross of the Sweetwater Pony Express Station got off his horse, grabbed his own gear and handed her the reins.
Buck only took a cursory look at the young woman. He was hot, tired, hungry, and badly in need of cleaning up. A bath an clean clothes sounded like heaven right now. Maybe later he'd he'd on into town. He knew that it was only a short distance to St. Joseph and he'd never had a chance to go there. Most of his runs had been to the west. Buck wondered why the rider took his pouch the rest of the way into town. Then he shrugged. He was just a rider.
While he was in getting his bath, Sarah's father, Joseph Simmons, the Station Master arrived. He found his daughter in the barn. "Sarah, did the Rider from the west get in?"
"Yes. And this pouch is already headed to the office."
"Who's the rider? Do you know him?"
"Never seen him before. Said his name was Buck Cross. He looks Indian."
Simmons paused for a moment. "I did hear that Sweetwater had hired a half breed. If you see him, tell him I want to talk to him before he goes into town."
"Allright, Pa."
As it turned out, Buck didn't see Mr. Simmons until supper that night. After cleaning up, the bunkhouse was blessedly quiet and a nap sounded like the best idea ever. When he woke up it was almost time for supper.
Simmons was impressed with Buck's table manners. And his command of the English language. Buck might be half Indian, but he was a good employee. He got to the topic. "Buck, I don't remember seeing you here before. That true?"
"Yes sir. I usually take the runs westward. This is my first visit to St. Joe. The normal Eastbound rider got hurt and I had to take the run."
"Since this is your first visit to St. Josephs, there are a few things you need to know before heading over there. You're aware of the problems between the Northern and Southern states?" Buck nodded. It's much more real here in Missouri. Kansas is just plain crazy. I tell my riders to ride like hell through that state and not to stop. But while Missouri is more civilized, it's not free from prejudice. Don't take this wrong, But I tell all Riders new to St. Joe to not go into town unless one of our regular Riders is with them. Folks from the West tend to get themselves into problems here. And while you seem like a nice young man, you are clearly not white. If I can tell that you are part Indian, so can a lot of other folks. One of our regular Riders can show you where you can and cannot go."
Simmons paused. Buck looked him square in the eyes. "I understand what you are trying to say sir. There are a lot of so-called civilized places out west that won't let me enter because of my Indian blood. It's not right, but it's how it is. I would like to at least see St. Joseph, but I'll obey your rules. Let me know when you have an escort for me. I promise I won't wear my war paint when I go."
"Thanks for being so civilized about that. Also, you've met my daughter, Sarah. She helps take care of the horses and the house. She's off limits to Riders. Understand?"
"Yes Sir."
Buck wasn't surprised by the Station Masters request about his daughter. He always got that warning. Often the rest of the guys did as well. During supper Buck had taken a good look at Sarah. he couldn't place the tribe, but he was pretty sure that Sarah was at least part Indian. And that was downright interesting.
(Buck)
The next morning there wasn't anyone around who could "chaperone" me into St. Joe, so I volunteered, over breakfast to work at the Station. There were always chores to do, plus I'd noticed my bridle was showing some wear.
Someone, probably Sarah, since the other Riders weren't around, had already cleaned out the stalls and fed the animals. I checked the horse I had ridden in on, then went over to the area where they kept the tack. My bridle did need some repair, and I noticed some other things that could use a little work.
A bit later, Sarah came into the barn. She saw me working and smiled. "There's always work needed on the saddles and such. Thanks!" We got to talking, just normal stuff. I found out that a couple of the riders were due back that night, so I would get his trip into St. Joseph in before I had to head home.
I figured I wouldn't have a better time, so I asked Sarah. "I couldn't help but notice, you look part Indian. What tribe?"
She looked startled. "My momma was half Cherokee. Her people didn't go to the reservation, but stayed back in the hills, passing for white. Pa didn't know she was part Indian at first. But he loved her so much that he decided it didn't matter."
Sarah looked away. "That's partly why Pa took the jobs he did. After Momma died he couldn't stay on the land and be a farmer anymore. So he thought he'd give my brothers and I a chance at a better life. So we moved to Memphis. We went to school and my brothers did well for themselves. I got myself into trouble."
She looked at me, troubled. "It's hard to be a young woman, especially in the city. Memphis is much bigger than St. Joe. I met these young men at dances…" She looked off in the distance again, then brought herself back to the here and now. "I thought I was in love with one of them. That he was going to marry me. So I did things I shouldn't have. When my young man figured out I was going to have a baby he left. My Pa went to talk to his family and came back hopping mad. They had insisted that their precious son couldn't have done that to me and made me the villain. They gave Pa money for me to go away if I would keep quiet. Pa wanted to throw the money back in their faces, but he knew we'd need it."
"I went away and had the baby. He was real cute. But he only lived a few days. So once I was well enough, Pa took this job and we moved here. No one knows me from Memphis and I live a quiet life. Pa doesn't really trust me anymore."
"I'm real sorry to hear about your story. That shouldn't have happened. You aren't going to spend the rest of your life here are you?"
Sarah looked thoughtful. "No one's asked me that in a while. I want what I should have had-marriage to a good man. And a family. And probably not here in the East. Someplace small and welcoming. Is that too much to ask?"
"No" I replied. "I think that's what most of us want. My best friend Ike and I want to start a horse ranch once we have enough money. And having a wife and children is part of that dream. We all need dreams."
It was getting late in the afternoon. She had chores to do in the house and I needed to finish what I was working on. I met Markus and Slim, two of the Station Riders when they came in. I enjoyed talking to them.
The next day Slim and I went into St. Joseph. We were definitely a mismatched pair. Slim lived up to his name, but he had a more Eastern look to him. Maybe it was the clothes. He kept his blonde hair in a city hair cut. From the Station we took a ferry over the Mississippi River to town. That is the biggest river I have ever seen! Someday I'd like to see it as it enters the sea. It must be something!
When we got off the ferry the first thing I saw was a huge area that was empty. Slim told me that it is where the wagon trains form up before they head West. Not as many groups as there used to be during the Gold Rush, but there are still a lot of folks that want to travel to California or Oregon. That would be something to see in the spring as they're preparing to go.
Our first stop was the main office of our company. It was real grand looking. Slim took me right up the steps into it. "You're an employee, you have the right to visit the home office. Besides, I want to pick something up."
The folks in the office were dressed really citified, I felt like a real country cousin there, but they were friendly. I guess the Pony Express Riders have a real reputation. The boss man shook my hand and welcomed me to St. Joe. He gave Slim a card and told him to make sure I got treated right. Nice folks.
St. Joe is the biggest city I've seen. It didn't just have one main street, it had whole neighborhoods. I'm supposed to be a good tracker, but I would have gotten lost without Slim. Since I had told him that I wanted to buy some clothes, he took me to what he called a "men's shop." The place was bigger than Tompkins General Store and it just sold stuff for men!
The prices were high, but I got myself a full new set of store bought clothes. I don't have any young woman to show them off to, but I can save them for when Kid and Lou finally get married. If those two don't end up getting married I'm going to be surprised.
I was going to get myself a couple more store bought shirts, but the total was beyond my budget. Cody I'm not. But as the sales clerk was adding up the sale Slim showed him the card that the Big Boss had given him. Apparently it was some sort of notice that I was supposed to get a discount on my purchase. It was enough that I ended up with the extra shirts as well.
By the time we were done it was after lunch and Slim decided to take us to a brothel-back home we'd call it a whore house. Slim said they had good food for a reasonable price, and besides, there was someone he wanted me to see. The place was called "Big Dorothy's." At first the doorman didn't want to let me in. It was one of those "white's only" places. But Slim whispered something in his ear and in we went.
Slim was right about the food. It was pretty good. The girls were pretty, but I knew they weren't for me. I certainly didn't have the kind of money it would take to buy their time. Then Big Dorothy came out. There was no mistaking her. I have never seen a woman that huge. She's taller than I am and much, much wider around. But it wasn't grotesque fat. She was just a really large woman, all the way around.
She saw Slim and came over to our table. "You don't look much like a Wild Indian to me" she said.
I tried to look fierce as I said to her in Kiowa, "You are as big as a buffalo and probably just as fierce." Then I said to her, "Ma'am, they made me clean up and put on white man clothes just to come to St. Joe. I had to promise to leave my tomahawk back at the Station."
"What was that you said at first?"
"I said in my own language that you remind me of the buffalo. Strong, large, and beautiful, but very dangerous when angered or threatened."
She laughed. "That's one of the strangest compliments I've ever gotten." She turned to the barkeep. "Their food and drink is on the house."
She looked at me. "But not my women. Though I am tempted to take on you myself."
Thinking fast, I told her that she was paying me a tremendous compliment, but I wouldn't even know where to begin to properly worship her body. She liked that and we managed to escape. It was time for Slim and I to catch the ferry to be back at the Station in time for supper. Even the thought of sex with that woman gave me the shivers.
On the way back Slim admitted that Big Dorothy had asked him to someday bring in a Wild Indian for her to meet. He figured I was close enough. It didn't get him time with any of the women, but we were able to get a free meal.
Over supper the group of us got into a discussion about slavery. A lot of Indian tribes kept slaves, but it was very different from the white version. For us it was almost always spoils of war. Slaves were captured from the enemy (who ever it was at the time). Owning a slave was a mark of status. Giving a slave away to someone needy was an even show of status. Slavery wasn't tied to a specific ethnic group, necessary to our economy (or way of life),or even necessarily permanent. An Indian slave could earn their freedom and eventually even become a respected member of the tribe. Or be free to leave.
That led to a discussion about the economics of American slavery. It seems to boil down to a question of figuring out who is going to do the jobs that bosses aren't willing to pay a decent wage for. In the North and out West they use immigrant labor. In the South slavery. Already the great railroads were being built to link the United States. The companies heading East were using immigrant Chinese workers. Those building West were immigrant Irish workers, mostly.
It was interesting. I told Simmons that I had my fill of St. Joe and was ready to head back to Sweetwater. He didn't have a run for me, but told me to head West along our route and if there was a run, I could have it.
I went out to the barn after supper to check on my horse and tack. Before too long Sarah came in. Together we got the animals settled for the night. We stayed to talk. I told her about an idea I had earlier in the day. With all the folks going West that were in St. Joe come spring, she might be able to find a way West herself. All on the up and up. As pretty as she is, once she got to her destination she wouldn't have any problem getting herself a husband and that family she wanted.
Sarah was excited about the idea. So much so that we found ourselves kissing. Before it went any further we separated ourselves. I did not want her father looking for me with a shotgun! So we said our goodbyes. I knew I'd have sweet dreams with the memory of her kiss fresh on my mind.
My trip home was pretty uneventful. The second station out I did pick up a run Eastward, so I got paid for the rest of it. It was good to see home. Even the teasing of the guys was a good thing.
About a year later I got a letter from Sarah.
"Dear Buck,
I took your advice. I left St. Joe last spring on a wagon train led by an old friend of Pa's. One of the families had lost their mother on the way out from Massassachutes. The father, Joseph, is a blacksmith and a good man. He hired me to care for his 3 children and keep house for them on the way out. I'm finally having my own life! My Pa is happy too. There are 3 widow women who have been hoping I'd leave so they could try to get his attention.
Thank you!
Sarah Simmons"