Uncivilized Page 4

  Ellen laughed, imagining what that might look like. “I’d think he’d have conflicting emotions, for sure.”

  “Most likely. So do you think he’s an Indian spy? Maybe he’s really all white and only pretending to be half.”

  The women paused. Any closer to the melee and she wouldn’t be able to hear Jenny. Ellen divided her attention between her friend and looking for the Winslow’s wagon in line. “What would pretending to be a half breed gain him? He’d only be marginally acceptable in society.”

  “I heard at the last trading post how a white man dressed up like a brave and tried to steal a horse.” Jenny tossed down the denuded flower, or what was left of it. “He wanted to blame them so he’d get away with the crime.”

  She frowned. “They’re horrible as a whole, but to steal and blame someone else is wrong. Don’t they do enough considered criminal as it is without framing them when innocent?”

  “They are a rather sorry group of people. Mr. Du Boise is the first I’ve properly met. The others only stare at us as cattle do.”

  Somehow Jenny’s strong opinions put Ellen in a defensive frame of mind. She didn’t have time for a true rebuttal but had to disagree. “I don’t know if I could compare him to a cow or even a bull. It seems Mr. Du Boise is rather intelligent.”

  “Yes, he does. That’s why I’m not sure he is Indian. Maybe he was kidnapped or finds buckskin comfortable.” She shook her head. “Even so, his hair is very long. You’d think a man wouldn’t have just one long braid down the back, although, I think it’s much better than one on each side. I mean, that’s how little girls wear their hair. That can’t be too manly.”

  Smiling at her friend’s deductions, Ellen interjected, “It can’t be and he strikes me as very much a man.”

  “My goodness! You must have learned more about him last night than Marie and I expected you would. Half the party argues Mr. Du Boise will steal everything we own while the other is sure he’ll be our salvation. What do you think?”

  She paused. This far away from her family, she knew her father couldn’t overhear her now. If she answered with an innocent comment about how she enjoyed spending time with Mr. Du Boise, Pa would be in a rage if word ever got back to him. Ellen needed to give the most neutral and acceptable answer. Her family edged closer to the ferry, distracting her a little. “I’m not sure what to think. I’ve not had time to form an opinion.”

  “What? He’s an Indian. What more is there to consider?” Jenny began strolling toward her family and Ellen went along.

  “I’ve not had a chance to really talk with someone so primitive. My father forbids it which is why I don’t think anything about him.” She nodded at Arnold, one of Granville’s men, as he rode by them.

  “If Mr. Winslow forbids you talking with him, you shouldn’t.”

  “Of course I won’t,” she reassured Jenny. “I’m not foolish enough to court trouble.”

  The other girl nodded. “I’m glad you are so smart. A more besotted woman would get herself kidnapped by him even if only by accident. I’ve heard horrible stories about such things.”

  “I have too and would never be so enamored of him.” As she said the words, doubts began to sound in her mind about such rumors. Even the most honest man she knew, her father, had stories that became more incredible each time she heard them. Maybe what had begun as a simple argument between two groups of people had become a massacre with each retelling. If she weighed the evidence, none of the natives she’d encountered so far had been violent. In fact, having met Del now led her to believe his people must be quite charming.

  “You’re thinking about that man, aren’t you?” asked Jenny.

  The girl’s question startled Ellen. “Oh, well, a little.” She shrugged. “My interest in him is purely cultural and scientific.”

  “I’m not sure how to be interested in a man scientifically, but if you say so. At least it’s not romantic.”

  “Romantic is not possible. We’re halfway to Oregon and there are plenty of men there for me to choose.” She watched as a family boarded the ferry. Sam and the others herded the livestock across before coming back for the next load. She couldn’t see Del among them and it was just as well. “The last thing I need is a man like Mr. Du Boise chasing after me.” An odd thought occurred to her. Ellen frowned and blurted, “Why is it men can have Indian wives? We can’t have Indian husbands?”

  “Dear me! No! Civilized men are wild enough as it is. I can’t imagine how a lesser man might be to his wife. How terrible!” Jenny frowned. “Don’t even think of it. Let him be an experiment but never a husband.”

  Ellen laughed at the notion. She glanced down the line of wagons waiting for the ferry and saw her father. His reaction to such intentions would shake the Earth like a natural disaster. “I’d sooner die than marry Du Boise.”

  “Mademoiselles,” Del nodded in greeting as he rode past them and on up the queue.

  Jenny waited until he was well out of hearing. “Do you think he heard?”

  Certain she insulted him, Ellen responded, “I think he still does hear us.”

  “My goodness.” She looked as uncomfortable as Ellen felt. “No matter what he is, we weren’t kind, were we?”

  “I don’t think so.” She glanced back, seeing Del speaking with Sam and facing away from her. “As much as I’d prefer not to, I’ll have to talk with him if only to apologize.”

  “I agree. You have no other choice. He might misunderstand and think you wish to die.”

  Ellen chuckled a little. “I hope he’d not think such a thing.” A good excuse came to mind and she patted Jenny on the arm. “However, it is a good reason to chat with him, don’t you think?”

  “And to see if he’s as interesting as you suspect. Maybe he’s just a boring ole native better left alone. I think so anyway.”

  She looked for her family’s wagon in line. They were third now. Ellen calculated how long the ferry might take based on past performances. Then, she needed to figure how long her father would argue before throwing a temper tantrum, stomping off, and ordering her to help him cross the river on their own. If he preoccupied himself otherwise, she might have a chance to really talk with Del, explain her conversation with Jenny, and apologize for being so thoughtless. And after all that? She still needed to find a shallow crossing for them as soon as possible. She looked back where Sam and Del stood. Their body language indicated a casual conversation, easily interrupted. She could give a quick explanation before beginning an even quicker search along the riverbank for a better way to cross.

  She turned to Jenny. “Pardon me while I eat crow.”

  “All right. Let me know how you do with him.”

  “I will.” Ellen gave her a little wave and started toward the two men. As she approached, her confidence ebbed. How could she apologize for the truth? She couldn’t marry anyone her father hadn’t chosen for her initially. Death would be easier than living with Mr. Winslow’s infinite rage. She reached the men, standing there until being acknowledged.

  “Miss Winslow,” Sam said first. “How are you today?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Your wrist? Arms?” Del asked, reaching for her right hand.

  “All fine.” She grimaced when he eased her wrist into a slight bend.

  He released her. “Again, you are a poor liar. Do not try for a senate seat. You might be able, but not effective.”

  Sam glanced from one to the other. “I feel I’m missing something important.”

  “You are not,” Del replied, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “Mademoiselle Winslow is likely here to talk with you, Sam, not with me.”

  Ellen glanced at Del. “Oh, actually, I do need to talk to Mr. Du Boise at the moment.”

  Sam’s eyebrows rose. “Alone?”

  She did need to speak to him in private. She didn’t want him embarrassed or humiliated with a backhanded apology.

  Del answered for her. “Non. Not alone. She is a young single woman, a
fter all, and I am a brutal savage.”

  Sam laughed until seeing his friend’s stony expression. “Excuse me, I thought you were joking. Very well, I’ll stay until the lady has her say.”

  Both men looked at her. Ellen fidgeted while gathering her thoughts. “Mr. Du Boise, Adelard, I’m afraid you overheard me make a rude statement about you, one that I’m rather ashamed of saying aloud.”

  “Which one might that be?”

  His candor took her by surprise and she gasped. Taking a bolstering breath, she clenched her fists to avoid wringing her hands. “It was when I said I’d rather die than marry you.”

  “I certainly did miss something!” said Sam.

  “No, you didn’t,” Del retorted. He continued to Ellen, “And you’re afraid of saying this how? Did you lie to Miss Jenny?”

  She wrung her hands. “No, I didn’t lie at all.”

  “Death is more preferable to you than being my wife. It is an honest statement. Why would you be ashamed of this?”

  “Because….” She first looked around to see if her family was nearby before answering. “I don’t know how to explain other than by being direct.” Ellen took a deep breath and began. “I think you’re an interesting subject and would like to know more about you. However, my father will make life miserable for me if we even talk as much as we are now.” She paused, waiting for him to respond. When he didn’t, she continued, “Jenny and I were discussing this very fact when somehow the conversation led to romance, marriage, and, um, you.” She paused, expecting a laugh from the two men. Sam seemed entertained while Del glared at her. “I couldn’t let anything of the sort happen. Considering my father’s opinion of native peoples and all.” She held open her hands in an appeal. “So you see? My comments were more general than specific. My father disapproves of all natives, not just you.”

  He looked at her from toes to eyes. “What makes you think I’m interested in marrying?”

  “Oh!” She felt sad and even a little ill from the embarrassment. Like her father always reminded her, Ellen had placed too much importance on herself. Her face grew hot and she wanted to disappear. Best to push through this shame, she decided and clasped her hands. “Nothing, I suppose. We can be distant friends with no harm done.”

  “I suppose so.”

  “Good, good.” She paused. “I’ll need to get back to our wagon. My father is probably deciding to cross the river on his own and I’ll need to help.” Ellen saw the look pass between the men. “Yes, it’s not wise, but I’ve prepared our belongings as much as possible and will need to help him with everything else.” She smiled. “I hope to see you on the opposite bank later today.” Ellen hurried away before either could respond.

  She rushed to their wagon to find Buster inside, crying with a soiled diaper. Skeeter sat on the tailgate in the shade, his hands over his ears. Tapping her brother, she said, “Come on down from there and let me change him.” The boy nodded, stepping out of the way as Buster ran into her arms. “There, there,” she managed to say after his smell reached her. While she cleaned him and put on a fresh diaper, Ellen warmed up to life spent as a spinster. No man was worth a brood of children, not when they all smelled like Buster most times.

  Her father’s raised voice caught her attention. She tilted her head to hear if he was just being loud or truly angry. Picking up the baby, she knew Skeeter had also heard by the way he clung to her skirt. She dreaded going over and seeing what the fuss was about, but avoiding Pa did no good. She took her little brother by the hand, settled the baby on her hip, and followed the shouting.

  Jack stood face to face with the ferryman. “I don’t give a God damn what you want! I’m not paying no thirteen dollars for this.”

  Skeeter slipped behind Ellen. Her glance skipped around the small crowd. She’d hoped no one saw the spectacle until catching sight of Adelard. He stood there, passively watching. She frowned at how he almost seemed amused at the rude display. Her face burned with the idea of him thinking how uncivilized her father behaved at the moment.

  Lucy tugged at his sleeve. “Jack, please!”

  “I’m sorry, sir, but that is the rate everyone pays.” The ferryman’s obstinate expression matched Winslow’s.

  “It’s robbery and I won’t stand for it!”

  Sam stepped up. “Mr. Winslow, is there something I can do?”

  “No, there ain’t a God—” he paused, catching himself. “No, I don’t suppose so. This man here is determined to rob everyone blind.” Jack gave the ferryman a glare. “Taking advantage of decent folks. He should be shot.”

  “I’m sure he’s just trying to make a fair wage,” said Sam.

  “Fair, my ass!” Giving Del a second glance, Jack asked, “What the hell is he still doing here? You ready to pick our bones too?” He turned to Sam. “This here man speaks English?”

  Del glanced at Ellen and forced an easy smile before replying, “Not if I can help it. Qui n’est pas clair n’est pas Fraincais. Et, votre anglais est merde.” Sam laughed and changed his guffaws to coughs. Del smacked him on the back as he went on. “My father preferred French around the house; my mother, her language, of course.”

  Jack gave him a blank stare. “I don’t care about all that. If I give you a simple order to go away, would you understand? Or do I need to draw a picture?”

  He swallowed. “No need.” Del turned on his heel toward his horse.

  “Del!” Sam hollered.

  “Que?” he said without stopping.

  “Aval avant le trempage?”

  “D’accord. Je suis un imbécile pour amour.”

  Ellen shifted Little Buster to her sore hip, wincing at the pain. Out of her father’s line of sight, she watched as Del strolled away from them. She’d give anything at the moment to know what Sam had asked and Du Boise had answered. Winslow’s wagon pulled out of the queue, led by Jack. When Sam walked over and stood next to her, she took the chance to learn more about what the two men had said in French. “I’ve heard Marie say merde when frustrated.”

  He grinned at her. “Is that so?”

  “Would I be embarrassed knowing the meaning?”

  “Yes, and you’d be mortified at having said it just now.” He winked, motioning for her to come along with him. “Don’t step in the cow merde is a good example of the meaning.” Sam laughed at her gasp. “Let’s go. I have Del waiting downstream in case the worst happens and your family will need our help finding a shallow spot to cross.”

  Ellen shook her head. “I’ve already searched. There are none or others would be there already. We need to stop him. You know what happened to Biscuit the last time Pa tried to bypass the ferry.”

  “Yes, I remember. Putting down a horse is something I strive to avoid.” He scanned the river. “You’re right about the river’s depth, of course.” A scream captured both their attentions.

  She watched as her father drove their wagon into the water. It rolled alongside as the ferry left the shore. Ellen stifled a curse when realizing he’d done so to prove a point to everyone. The oxen worked to pull the heavy load. They dipped below the water once before resurfacing. The animals brayed and struggled for shore. The wagon began swaying in the strong currents. She searched their surroundings and panicked when she couldn’t find Skeeter anywhere. Ellen heard Lucy’s cry and her heart stopped, certain her stepmother was drowning. While holding Little Buster snug against her, she ran toward the accident.

  Jack stood on the seat, urging the animals onward despite their fear. They lurched forward as if stumbling over something on the riverbed and toppled him. He fell onto their backs, carried through the water as he held on to the yoke. The wagon followed behind, still attached to the oxen. The current lifted and pushed over the vehicle with all the belongings still strapped down inside. Sam’s men rushed to the scene on horseback while he ran for his own horse. Their animals struggled to stay upright as the men strung a rope from one side of the river to the other.

  Skeeter ran past her to the bank. �
��Pa! Pa!” She caught hold of him just as he leaped into the water. Ellen and Little Buster weren’t enough to counteract both her younger brother’s weight and force. All three tumbled in.

  Ellen held the baby tight and pulled Skeeter close as well. The cold water shocked him motionless for a moment. She yelled, “Hang on and I’ll get you out of here!” She kicked hard against the flow toward shore, relieved when he grabbed around her waist, then neck. She could let go of him, her arm free to grab any branch or tough grass hanging out over the water. She pushed her glasses up on her nose so she could see well but drops obscured her vision.

  The current carried them down, close to where Del pulled Lucy onto the bank. The baby cried in her ear, and Lucy stirred at the sound as the trio flowed past. Ellen’s gaze met Del’s, his face pale. As they went downstream, he ran along the bank, keeping up and at times passing them.

  She grabbed onto Skeeter’s wrists locked around her neck. He was cutting off her air with his grip, and she wedged her hand between him and her throat. With every swirl and eddy, Ellen allowed her head to sink below the water instead of theirs. As her gasps for air became more difficult, both children grew heavier in her arms. She tried and failed to stand every time her toes brushed a surface. Both boys clung to her so hard, Ellen took the chance to take off her glasses. She folded and slid them down the front of her bodice.

  “Ellen!”

  Del stood in the water further downstream and held out a bent tree branch. She struggled to swim toward him. Her skirt caught a snag, almost forcing the boys out of her arms. “I’m stuck!”

  At her cry, he leaped onto the bank and ran up to where they were. Del leaned out as far as he could. “Grab my hand!”

  She pulled Buster from her and held him out for Del. “Take the boys, I can swim. Please, Del! Save them!”

  His mouth set in a hard line, he reached for Buster but the little hand swung out of his reach. The river pulled at them, drawing them to the center of the stream. Her dress still caught by the dead roots, she was afraid to struggle and pull them free. Del eased into the water, bracing himself while reaching for anyone he could reach.