The Gatherers by Marla Fair – Chapter five
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"But I tell you, my pa owns that land fair and square!" Ben Shelby slammed his fist down on the counter of the county clerk with such force it made the little man jump. "It says so right here in this deed I got!"
The clerk, a small unassuming man who looked like he would have rather been anywhere else, sighed. "I understand that, Mister Shelby, but you have to understand. If Marcus Greeley wants that land, there's nothing you can do about it. What he wants, he gets."
"Who is Marcus Greeley?"
The clerk's eyes popped. "Why Mister Greeley owns just about all of Sleepy Eye east to west!"
"But not north to south?"
"That too."
"Then what's he need our land for, for gosh sakes!"
The clerk lowered his glasses on his needle-thin nose and looked again at the map before him. "Seems to me his interest might lie in the waterways running through your property. He's interested in timber." The clerk cleared his throat. "Well, honestly, he's interested in anything that will make him money."
"Sounds like a heck of a guy," Ben groused as another customer came in the door.
"Oh, he is!" the clerk exclaimed, changing his tune. "Mister Greeley built the children's home and gave most of the money for the local grange hall. He's also the chief benefactor of the church and head deacon, as well as co-chairing just about every committee in town. He's quite magnanimous with his money as well. Sleepy Eye wouldn't be the town it is without him."
Ben nodded. "In other words, he owns a piece of just about everybody in this town."
The clerk's gaze moved to the newcomer and back. "Mister Shelby, if by that comment you are suggesting Mister Greeley 'owns' the man who told you the piece of paper you hold is a fake, I would think twice about suggesting such a thing. Mister Greeley is above reproach. He may let his capitalist zeal and entrepreneurial spirit overcome his good nature now and then, but he's –"
"A rat who's tryin' to steal my pa's land!" the skinner exclaimed.
Artemis Beach, the thin-nosed clerk, pulled himself up to his unimpressive height of five-foot-six and sniffed. "That's called 'defamation of character', Mister Shelby."
"Mr. Beach is right," the other man said. "That's what that is. You need to learn to watch what you say, stranger, or you could end up in jail!"
"Because I'm tryin' to protect what's mine?" Ben tossed his hands up in the air. "Ain't a man got a right to do that?"
"That depends on whether or not that thing's really yours, son," a new voice said.
Ben turned to find the local lawman standing in the doorway. He knew he was a lawman because he had a badge on his vest. Though, come to think of it, that was about all that said he was. The man looked mean as a skunk in a skillet and smelled just as bad. He was one of those old-timers, lean as a piece of sinew and grizzled as a she-bear past her prime, with a handle-bar mustache and a black felt hat slouched down too low.
"Who are you?" the skinner demanded.
"Sheriff Alabaster Pettigrew." The man pushed off the jamb he was leaning against and came to his side. "If I like you, you can call me 'Al'." Al tipped his hat back revealing one piercing blue eye and a black patch where the second eye should have been. "If I don't'," he said, his lips curling in a sneer, "well, then, you'll know why most just call me 'Baster'."
"I suppose you work for Marcus Greeley as well."
The sheriff nodded. "Mister Greeley is the patron of the Sleepy Eye Defense League, as well as its current president."
Ben rolled his eyes. "I don't care if he's the president of these here United States! I'm not leavin' until the circuit judge arrives and he can look at my pa's paper and tell me whether or not we own the land fair and square." The skinner rolled the document up and stuck it in his satchel. He glared at each man in turn as he headed for the door. "Now, if you don't mind, I'm goin' back to my camp where the air don't stink of dishonesty!"
The sheriff caught his shoulder. "Just a minute, son."
Ben scowled. "What?"
"It seems you've got a poor impression of our town. I'd like to show you some local hospitality." The odiferous man sniffed. "Maybe get you a bath and a bed – and a good hot home-cooked meal."
The skinner frowned. "Well, now, that's right friendly of you, but I ain't got –"
"No, buts. It's a done deal." The sheriff turned and yelled out the door. "Jared?!"
A beefy face replete with a head of curls the color of a beaver's coat appeared in the opening. "Yes, sir."
"I'd like you to 'escort' Mister Shelby here over to the jail and give him the royal treatment."
When the big man stepped into the clerk's office and loomed over him, Ben swallowed hard and stepped back.
"On second thought, I think I'll just fix me some fish on the fire…."
"Nonsense," Jared growled with a voice deep as Avalanche Canyon as he took hold of both his shoulders. "Consider yourself our guest."
Charles stood with his hands raised about shoulder-high, staring down a very frightened Indian woman. "Now, look, Ma'am. I told you I don't mean you any harm."
Winona had the knife pointed right at him and, since she was Sioux, he figured she knew how to use it.
"Who are you?" the woman demanded.
He suppressed a sigh. "I already told you that too. My name is Ingalls. Charles Ingalls. Ben Shelby sent me to – "
"Pa?"
Good Lord! Charles winced and turned to find his nine-year-old daughter staring at him wide-eyed.
"Half-pint, you go back to your ma," he ordered.
"But, Pa!"
"You do as I say. Now!"
Winona was staring at Laura. "This is your…child?"
The farmer nodded even as he gave his girl permission to stay with a look. "This is Half-pint…er…Laura. Her ma is inside taking care of Sam Shelby."
At least he hoped Caroline would stay inside!
"You are...not one of the men who came?" Winona asked as the tip of the knife dipped just a bit.
He was instantly on the alert. "What men?"
The native woman shook her head. "I did not know them. They came after Mister Ben left and brought guns and torches. They set fire to the animal crib. Wankan Tanka was kind. He caused a great storm to arise. The rain put out the fire and drove them away." She frowned. "I thought you were these men returned and so I hid."
"How long have you been hidin'?"
"I saw the smoke rise from your campfire."
So that would be the night before. That would explain why Sam's fire had been nearly out and the cabin in a bit of a shambles.
"Mister Shelby's mad at you," Laura said. "He…."
Charles shook his head and she fell silent.
Winona smiled for the first time. "Sam Shelby is like a very old mato. All bellow, but no claws or teeth."
He had to agree with that!
"Is it all right if I put my hands down now?" the farmer asked. "My arms are kind of achin'."
The native woman nodded as she returned the knife to the sheath tethered to her waist-belt. "I must return inside," she said.
"I'm sure Caroline's got Sam taken care of, isn't that right, Half-pint?"
"Yes, sir. Ma was feedin' him dinner when I left."
"You go help her. I'll be there in a minute."
Laura eyed the native woman a moment longer and then turned and skipped into the house.
"Is…Lau-ra…your only child?" the woman asked.
"I've got two more back in Walnut Grove," he said. "All girls."
Winona was tall for a woman, maybe five-foot-six or seven. Just a few inches shy of where he stood out of his boots. Her age was hard to determine, but he thought she might be in her late twenties. She was dressed just like Caroline, in a plain white blouse with a colorful skirt, only she had a couple of layers of silver piled on top and ear-bobs in her ears. His wife didn't wear much jewelry. The native woman's hair was long and dark as the shadows, like he'd noted, but in the light its coppery color revealed her mixed parentage. She was pretty, with that moon-shaped face and wide brown eyes, but there was a hard edge to her that took away from it.
He hadn't been wrong when he'd compared her to a hunted animal.
"What are you afraid of?" Charles asked softly.
"The men who came," she shot back.
He held her gaze. "What else?"
Her shoulders dropped a bit. She let out a little sigh. "The men who come."
There was a story here that needed to be told but, from the set of Winona's jaw, he wasn't going to get it out of her now. She'd have to trust him first.
"Charles."
It was Caroline. "What is it, darlin'?"
His wife was obviously uncomfortable. She was wringing her hands. "Laura told me we had a…guest. I came to tell you both that the food is ready."
"It is my place to fix Mister Shelby's food," Winona said.
"Well, today, it's your 'place' to be our guest," Charles countered as he lifted a hand and pointed the way. "We brought some supplies."
"How do fresh blueberry flapjacks with clotted cream sound?" Caroline asked with a smile.
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Laura couldn't help but stare at the native woman who sat across the table from her. She was real pretty, but kind of sad. She'd met a good many Indians, but most of them were men. They were the ones who traveled a lot. Most of the time the ladies stayed home and took care of their young'uns, just like her ma did. There'd been the ones in Kansas, and others passin' through Minnesota, but most of them were cooped up on the reservation Doctor Tanner went to all the time. It wasn't fair. The Indians should have been allowed to live wherever they wanted just like she and her family did. White folks had pushed them off their land and built towns, but why shouldn't they be allowed to live in the towns with them?
She really didn't understand it at all.
Sure, Indians were different. But then she and Nellie Oleson were as different as night and day – maybe as Heaven and Hell! Laura giggled, and then straightened up when her ma's eyes shot their own arrow at her. They still lived in the same town. People were arguing and fighting and had different opinions all the time and they all lived together.
If she lived to be one hundred, she'd never understand what difference it made if your skin was white or red or yellow or brown, or even purple for that matter!
"Laura, eat your food," Ma nudged.
"You're gapin'," Pa said with a smile as his foot nudged hers under the table.
Mister Shelby was asleep. It was funny. When they came in, Winona went right over to him to see how he was doing. He growled just like Jack and said, "Winyan! Where've you been? I thought you was s'posed to be lookin' after me!" 'Winyan', he called her, not Winona. Pa explained that 'Winyan' meant 'woman' in Sioux, while 'Winona' meant 'laughing woman'. She called him 'old man', or 'koskalaka' and sure didn't take any guff off him! Winona insisted on feeding Mister Shelby first, and then came over to the table and sat with them. It took a little while, but finally she started talking. Pa asked her where she came from and she said her white grandparents had raised her. They had a homestead over the ridge past Avalanche. Winona and Ben had got to know one another when she ran the trap lines with her grandpa. They were about the same age. About a week back Ben had showed up at their house to ask her to come and take care of Mister Shelby until he could find someone else. She'd agreed, but said her grandma was sick too and she needed to get home as soon as she could.
Except she was afraid.
A few days back a bunch of men showed up at Mr. Shelby's cabin with guns and torches. They'd shouted all kind of things she couldn't understand and then set the horse crib on fire. Winona couldn't stand to let the horses get hurt, so she ran out to free them and was almost caught by one of the men. She said they were white and mean as a 'zuzehecedan', which Pa told her was a type of snake. Lucky for her, Winona wore that knife on her belt and she cut the man's arm and got away. She was in the cabin, afraid that they were gonna set it on fire too, when a storm moved in big and ferocious as a grizzly and drove them all away. She hadn't seen hide nor hair of them until she thought they were them the night before.
Winona was afraid to go home, but she needed to go home to look after her grandma, which put Pa in what he called a 'quandry'.
Later that night she heard her parents talking as they lay side by side in their makeshift bed on the floor, speakin' low so as not to wake her and Winona who was sleeping in the back. They were up in the area of the cabin where Pa had laid when Doctor Canby tied up the bleeders and kept him from dying. She was kind of in-between near the fire.
"Caroline, I can't leave you and Laura alone. Not with those men out there."
"You've done it before. In Kansas. Charles, I know how to take care of myself."
"But these aren't Indians. These are white man, and darlin', I can tell you that's worse. The Indians are only lookin' to survive. These men, they're bullies, hired by some no-good rich man to drive Sam and Ben off their land."
"I doubt they'll attack if they know there's a woman and child in here."
There was a pause. "Winona's a woman."
"Charles, you know I have no prejudice, but it's different. Most men are decent enough at heart to respect a mother and child of their own race."
Pa mumbled something.
The room fell silent again until Ma asked, "How long do you think it will take you to get her home?"
"A day. Maybe two, if we have to camp overnight."
"Can you make it in one day?"
Laura heard a sound. It was probably Pa shifting. "Winona's a native. She can move fast and on nothin'."
"Well, there you have it. Leave at first light and you'll be back by dark. Laura and I will be fine for one day. There's plenty to do. We won't even miss you."
Pa turned over for sure this time. Laura heard the covers rustle. She could imagine him puttin' his arms around her ma.
"Well, then I better give you somethin' to miss me for," he said in that way he had that Ma liked to call 'cheeky'.
"Charles! Not here. The cabin is to open! It wouldn't be proper."
"The cabin in Kansas wasn't any bigger, and the dugout by the creek sure wasn't! Seems to me bein' 'improper' is how Laura and Mary came about," he laughed.
Though she'd never seen it, she knew what her ma and pa did in the dark. Sort of. When she was littler, it had confused her. Sometimes it sounded like someone was hurtin'. Later, she'd come to understand that was what men and women did, and that it was somethin' they liked.
No matter how peculiar that seemed.
"Get some sleep!" Laura heard a soft slap. "You'll need your energy for the trip tomorrow."
"I'll sleep better if I spend a little energy tonight," Pa replied.
"You're incorrigible!"
"There you go with one of those ten dollar words, school mar'm. How about a five dollar one?"
"Go to sleep, Charles."
Pa let out a little sigh and turned again.
"Persistent," Ma said.
"What?"
"Your five dollar word."
"Oh."
"How about being a little…more…."
And then she heard them kiss.
With everything right in her world, Laura turned over and went to sleep.
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to be c ontinued…..