Chapter Five
Photo by Robert Nielsen © 1997
Varmints a' Callin'
Soon, there were clunking sounds of several pairs of boots out on the porch and Joan started towards the door when she heard some gentle knocking.
They weren't really very heavy boots, so Joan knew that they must be school boys which meant that they had to be friends of Gemma's. Joan decided to give the them a start.
She opened the door wide open and looked out over their heads as though she couldn't see them.
"I think that you were right, Gemma. It was a racoon, looking for some food." She brought her eyes down to them. "And look at this, girl. There are several. And, they've taken off their hats and They're just standing out here with their mouths agape." Joan lowered her elation just a tad and turned towards Gemma.
Gemma had walked up behind her mother and held open the door, staring out through the boys at Jeremiah with a look upon her face, not unlike theirs.
"Now Gemma, I wouldn't want these boys going home and telling their parents that we've made them stand out on the porch the whole time they were here.", Joan teased.
"Uh, oh. Yes, ma'am. Well, why don't you come in out of the cold? Now, come on. Please, do come in.", Gemma said as she waved back her arm with a welcoming gesture.
It was Kib Johnson, Cal Owens, Willy Campbell, and two brothers, Jeremiah, and Ronny Smith. Not one of them had ever met Joan and none of them closed his mouth. Each one said "Hello," to Gemma and added a polite and quiet, "ma'am." to Joan. They all walked into the front room without taking their eyes off Joan.
Joan, who noticed that she had taken every ounce of their attention, loudly said, "Please excuse me, boys. I really must attend to some business in the work shed.
"Gemma, Will you please take their coats?", and, raising her eyebrows to Gemma, "and I am sure that Gemma will see to it that you shall have a hot drink."
Cal Owens suddenly spoke up. "Ma'am, we was wondering if it might be okay with you if your daughter could go riding with us for a few hours, this afternoon. We've planned to show her Webber mountain and stop over at my house for a little while, to rest and visit with my folks."
Joan thoughtfully sat down on Gemma's bed and looked out of the window, reflecting on the fact that Gemma had not been out of the cabin for nearly two days and only then to ride to town with her to care for the children as she shopped. Jimmy hadn't even allowed Gemma to read, wanting to be entertained, almost every minute.
"Oh. So, you were wondering if I might allow her to go with you, hmm? Well, do you know if she is as keen to go along?", Joan asked in an attempt to teach a little common courtesy.
Gemma stepped forward. "I have heard of their farm animals and their rabbits. And, I would be very pleased to go with them on their outing, ma'am. That is, if they are prepared with the essentials. Did you think to bring a container of drinking water?", she asked them.
Willy Campbell interjected, "Better than that. Kib's got his army canteen from the war between the states." He looked at Joan, imploringly. "It'll be educational."
As though the bit about it being educational had swayed her, Gemma lightly smiled and looked over to her mother, who beamed with pride for her daughter's having tried to appear responsible.
"Well, I suppose that it be alright if you would agree to wait for mum to get back from her business in the work shed, so that Jimmy and Jenny may be looked after.", Gemma said and relieved her mother, just a bit, by asking her, "Is that alright with you, mother?"
Then a thought struck Joan. Gemma wasn't even fourteen years old, yet. Why would these boys want to give her little girl such a great deal of attention.
As though Kib understood her thoughts, he tried to let Joan in on an important piece of information. "We weren't planning on stopping here at all. But, when I asked for permission to go, my pa remembered about the snowball Jeremiah threw at her and, I don't know how, but he got him to promise to say he was sorry to Gemma".
"I didn't throw it at her." Jeremiah turned red, then white.
Ronny finally put in his two bits, "Ya told me, it'd bean her on the head. And, boy did it. Wow!"
After Ronny's testimonial, it seemed there was no way out for Jeremiah. "Well, after it hit ya. I felt pretty bad.", he said and put his head down.
Willy had to assert his part, "I think it was 'cause he heard you cryin', later on, that he felt bad."
Gemma had compassion for Jeremiah who didn't respond to what she knew to be serious ridicule from Willy, who laughed and slapped Jeremiah on the shoulder. And, there was Jeremiah, his chin still buried in his coat. Then with understated magnanimity, she said, "Well, you did say that you hoped it didn't knock me out."
That comment did so well to break the tension that even Jeremiah started to laugh along with Gemma and the other boys.
Joan had to put hand to face and go through the front door and out to the work shed before she, herself, laughed out loud.
Although, by the time she reached the work shed, she was in tears. It wasn't so much that the comment was funny, just that the reaction was a well needed release.
Joan hadn't realized how much she needed a circumvention of pressure. And, surely as she needed to be unburdened, so did her Gemma need to take a short flight.
Joan decided to let her go with the boys, despite her newly found concerns.
She closed the door behind her and let out another deep sigh.
Joan knew the Johnsons and the Owens. It seemed to her that the two Smith boys were nice enough and she felt that Willy was okay, too, perhaps. Most importantly, Joan knew that she had raised Gemma in the right way.
She looked about the work shed and gave another deep sigh. She turned, opened the door, and headed back into the cabin.
Joan stomped her feet free of a little snow and Jimmy opened the door for her. Jimmy had been standing by the door, quietly watching, observing, and trying to stare down each one of the boys as he spoke.
Joan walked in and began to listen to their conversation.
Cal had been keeping his peace until Kib mentioned that his brother had seen Big Poke, a renegade Paiute Indian chief, over near McElmo canyon, on the morning of the funeral. "They never get out this far east! The Paiutes can't cross the Colorado border, by treaty. Big Poke signed it himself." Cal raised his eyebrows.
"All I know is my big brother, Rodney, said that it was Big Poke. Whoever says that he'd honor any treaty, anyway?", retorted Kib, in an unusually defiant manner.
Cal just shrugged his right shoulder. The other boys respected Kib and his opinion but they held Cal's understanding, highest of all. And, for Cal to have been silenced by Kib. Enough said.
"Is there anything that you would have me do for you, before I go, mother?" Gemma was about to burst.
"No, there isn't, dear. Just, you lot be careful and if you do see any Indians, duck down and don't move until they leave. They will likely see you but if you don't mean any harm to them, chances are, they won't mean any harm to you.", Joan advised, and went into the kitchen to catch the kettle on the boil. "You boys do have a gun, with you."
Cal put away his stunned look to respond, "Uh. Yes, ma'am. I brought my Remington rifle and Kib's got a pretty good side arm."
"And, you know how to use them?" Joan said, searching for confirmation. She thought that she should try to install a little forethought into them.
This time, Kib proudly spoke up, "Cal is the best shot in Montezuma county, with a rifle. And, I'm the best with a pistol."
"Yeah, in all of southern Webber." Jeremiah interjected. He had to razz Kib to get him back. You see, there weren't actually many people in what was known as southern Webber.
They all laughed, including Joan, who had been somewhat set at ease knowing that Cal had a good long range firearm. She had heard about the trouble some of the people had been having and it comforted her, a little, having noticed Cal's quiet steady attitudes. The trouble of which she had heard was only stock thievery in the night. Nonetheless, she knew that anything can happen.
"You will be longer than just two hours, then. What would you say to four or five?" Joan smiled at Cal, who could only blush. "That's fine, then. It's just before noon, right now. If you can get back before sundown, I won't worry, until then."
Gemma was standing in the kitchen, holding her breath and trying to avoid Jeremiah's flirting glances. Also, she wanted not to feel quite so flattered by their having come by in the first place. She knew that Jeremiah was simply toying with her, but thought, 'There's no sense in not enjoying it, while it lasts'.
Joan asked the boys if any of them would be having any tea and they all declined. Gemma tried to occupy her nervousness by sweeping the kitchen floor until her mother noticed, took the broom away from her, and said. "Gemma, put on your coat and boots. I want for you to use your mittens and that fur hat. It might become rather cold out on the road, later in the afternoon. Agreed?"
Gemma didn't say a word. She nodded her head, walked into the front room, smiled at the boys, and, as coolly as she could collect, said, "I guess that we'll be off as soon as I can get myself bundled up and out of the door. With which one of you am I to be riding? Or did you bring a horse for me to ride, as well?"
Jeremiah, Willy, and Ronny lowered their heads. Cal grabbed Kib by the coat and said, "This young man offered to have you on the back of his horse, since it's the only welsh pony in the town of Webber." He looked at Joan and continued, "No, I'm just joshin' you, ma'am. If she wants to, she can ride with me. I have a much stronger horse."
Kib blushed a bit and looked at Joan. He asked. "Is that alright with you, ma'am?"
"Oh, you boys go along so that you can get back before dark. And, you take care of those horses. I don't want anyone to have to walk all the way back to Mancos.", Joan said. She picked up Gemma's fur hat, pulled out the ear flaps from inside, and handed it to her daughter, who thanked her for having found it.
The Unencountered Glen
"Let's go, then." Gemma said, trying not to grin so
noticeably.
She was the first out of the door, and, as the five boys tried to appear as polite as they could possibly manage, she asked Cal, "Where are the horses?"
"Oh, it was Jeremiah's idea to hide them." Cal chuckled and then, as though she understood, told her that if they had to high tail it out of there, they wouldn't be seen remounting and taking off for home.
Gemma tilted her head and realizing that Jeremiah had thought there actually a was cause for trepidation, she said, "Good plan, Jeremiah. Mother has been known to tear off two limbs and a head, before visitors could get clear of the front yard. Good plan, aye!" She turned and smiled slyly, which turned into a loud laugh and a bow to keep her balance.
The boys looked at one another with skewered faces and Kib asked Jeremiah, "Didn't my dad say that we might not be able to get her to talk much?" Jeremiah just shook his head and tried to walk without falling in the slushy snow.
They continued north, down the lane until, 500 yards, or so, before they reached the Durango-Cortez road, they all broke to the right and then back south, a bit.
They walked through some aspens to the west and out into a small glen where the horses turned to see them coming, each horse side-stepped to position himself to face them. They were tethered, a good piece apart from each other, on a scrub of oak brush up on a slight rise. A stand of tall pines stood up on a ridge about twenty-five yards to the southwest which turned and eased down toward the road, on the northwest.
Gemma took a deep breath and exclaimed, "Oh, this is so lovely. I've never been down here in these aspens. How did you know that it was here.
Kib who stood next to her explained, "We just walked out here to find some cover for the horses. You think this was a good place?"
"Oh. It most certainly is a good place." Gemma was quite sure that a part of it was on her land, but she didn't want to mention it then. She walked right up to Kib's pony and began to gently speak to him.
Kib walked over to Gemma. He began to scratch his pony behind the ear with his right hand. "Gemma," He carefully put his left hand on her right shoulder. "Gemma, we're all terribly sorry about your father passing away. We want you to know that we care about your family. We're your friends and if there's ever anything we could do to help you folks, any of us would be glad to."
The rest of the boys had all gathered around them and Jeremiah said, "Me, too. I mean my family, uh, the Smith family would like to offer you folks our friendship. And, if you would ever need anything, we'd be glad to help, too."
Cal had picked up on some of her meaning and said, "Well, I, for one, would like to see it, again. How about it, Gemma? Would you like to ride with me? Or, would you rather stunt poor Kib's ponies growth, for good. Yesterday, his sister let some vagrant climb on that horses back and he had a bag, looked like he had it filled with rocks."
"He wasn't a bum.", Kib responded vehemently.
Cal poured on the drawl and said loudly, "Yea, that Kib isn't known to take a joke too well around these parts." And then he returned, "I know, full well, who he was and what he had in the bag. They were books for the church".
"Bibles?", Gemma asked. "Or, were they Books of Mormon? I've heard of Books of Mormon. There were missionaries in Cardiff, Wales, for a little while. Grand father said something about their having already picked all the fleas off of the sheep."
Willy, who had remained silent up until now, suddenly replied, "They were hymn books, Gemma. They won't take sacks of grain for church books, anymore, and the ones we had were fallin' apart".
Kib had finally calmed down and did his best to satisfy her curiosity. "The distribution center of the church was excepting wheat for church materials until about '88. Now we have to send cash. So, the delivery of materials doesn't happen very often." By this time Cal had helped Gemma up onto his horse. When the others were ready they started heading east and then out on the road to the north.
Kib quickly caught up with Cal's horse and began to tell Gemma about the Scotsman whom they had tried to convert, when he was much younger.
Gemma mentioned that he must be referring to Ryan MacLery.
Cal turned, gave Kib a stern look, and cleared his throat as loudly as he had begun, said, "Well, they never could talk him into coming to church". In deference to Cal, he dropped back behind Jeremiah who had been behind him to begin with. Kib was a little surprised to find that she knew 'the mad celt' as they had called him in the end. And, he wasn't about to tell her that.
"Mr. MacLery sold us the land. They are very nice people, if you are on good terms.", Gemma said. "But, I suppose that you don't want to be on the outs with him." She understood that there weren't too many people, in Mancos, who had found his good side.
Willy Campbell turned around to Ronny Smith, who was last on the road and said, in a low groveled tone, "Bloody Mormons".
Ronny wasn't at all pleased to hear it. He quipped back, "Bloody big mouth".
Gemma, who really wasn't at all shocked, turned around, acted quite shocked, and exclaimed, "My word. Men and their language!" A phrase she'd heard in restaurants back in Wales, a few times. "If you knew what it is that word means, in that context, you would not use it."
Quickening his pace, Jeremiah caught up with her somewhat and asked her what it meant.
She just thickened her accent and glibly said, "You'll have to ask your mum. Won't you, laddie?"
Jeremiah understood, as well as he could, that it was really something about which he didn't want to ask his mother. He only glanced at her to see that she didn't look at him. He dropped back and there wasn't a word spoken until they reached sight of Mancos. Cal might have picked up on it, if he had been listening. And, if he had, Gemma might have tried to giggle. But, it really wasn't funny, she thought to herself.
Gemma quite enjoyed the company of these young men,though. For the most part, they weren't the sort who spoke with such a thick vernacular that only half of what was being said could readily be understood by someone not thoroughly familiar with such dialect. Not like an Indian who usually could only speak a form of broken English (which is generally easily understood), but the rather common localized forms of phraseology or terminology that may sometimes vary in different communities, or even different classes of people.
She could usually understand everything that they were trying to get across. And, they wouldn't seem to mind putting it a little differently, if she looked as though it wasn't all that clear to begin with. Nor, would they pour a country drawl all over you 'until you felt that you'd have to wash your hair', something she often would say to herself.
Cause For Reflection
Back at home, Joan had finished changing Jenny for second time when she noticed that the fire had gone out. There were still quite a few hot coals and a half-burned chunk of cedar, smoldering near the back of the fireplace.
"Thank goodness for that.", she said to herself as she looked down at the kindling box. Jimmy had emptied it earlier, trying to keep the fire lit without having to put on another quartered log, which caused Joan to shake her head. She tisked in her mind at the boy, "I'll have to teach that young man some fireplace etiquette. When big sister's gone, you have to keep it stoked with more than just sticks and branches.
"Little whe..." She stopped herself from calling Jimmy a whelp. It was a term her father would use when he was aggravated at one of the children and wanted to spout off. And, she "certainly had not borne any puppies". Which was a phrase that her mother would use each time he could be heard, saying, "Bloody li''le whelp!" She could still hear him saying "that, that AWFUL expression", and her mother crying after she had said that.
Joan found herself flicking hot coals up into a pile, just as the cedar flew into a flame.
She winced a bit, thinking of the bad things.
'Think about the bad things and they will likely continue', she thought to herself, which brought on a chuckle. "Another thing me mum used to say". Joan loved her mother's sense of optimism. And, she loved her father's sense of humor. Pity, that they were gone, too.
She picked up a couple more pieces of wood and placed them on the pile of hot coals. After taking up the baby's crib and placing it by the large, overstuffed chair, Joan sat and began humming a lullaby to herself. Jenny had gone off to sleep earlier, after being fed, cleaned up, and comfortably diapered.
The baby already had all the exercise that she would need that morning; writhing, squirming, and moaning as she had, wanting to be fed and then changed.
Jenny didn't seem to cry much, hardly ever. This was quite unlike Gemma, who, as her mother would candidly tell their friends, wouldn't really cry, "she would just yell for everything she wanted. Oh, I suppose that she would simply cry, sometimes, I think. Didn't she Ben?"
Joan quit humming and reached down to convert the crib into somewhat of a rocking cradle and began to pull it gently toward her, rocking it easily as she rested her head on the back of Ben's large over-stuffed chair.
Joan sat, thinking about Ben and asked herself what it was that she mostly missed about him. There were a lot of things.
A sudden 'thunk' on the side of the cabin caused Joan to smile to think that Jimmy must have missed the snowman with his make-believe spear, again. That certainly reminded her of Ben.
"What an imagination your father had." She looked down at Jenny, whose hair had begun to darken. "And, what a head of hair."
Joan closed her eyes and slowly went back to the day that she met her late husband.
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