Read Online The Way West by A. B. Guthrie Jr. - Free Book Online

that made Summers snort once. Evans' attention strayed off, to Mack, to Fairman, to McBee, to Brewer, and off to one side, beyond the men, to the girl, Mercy McBee, who wore a red poke bonnet and stood, her eyes fluid above the pale planes of her cheeks, like a young doe that had heard a noise. Sadness in the face, or maybe only emptiness. A look to squeeze a man inside. In animals you knew what you'd get, crossing scrubs. Question was, did the scrubs cross or a good stud get in the pasture? More likely she was scrub, too, underneath. Thirtynine lashes for fornication. That was a warning, aimed mostly by the married men at the single ones who'd been engaged to help out on the trip.
   Brother Weatherby was wanting to add to the list, asking that the company go "on the moral code written by God in the breast of every man."
   A little smile was on Tadlock's face. He knew better than to laugh, but he knew to smile, too, letting on it was best, if a little overdone, to give the preacher man some rope.
   The man back of Evans muttered, "Make the old fool shut up. Wants to make the rules, and him without a pot to piss in."
   Mack read some more. . . . Require provisions in the following amounts . . . two hundred pounds of flour per person, except for infants . . . seventy-five pounds of meal ... fifty pounds of bacon. . . . Name three inspectors, to look over wagons and supplies. ... Move report be adopted.... Aye....
   The voice at Evans' back said, "That'll fix the preacher."
   It occurred to Evans that the rules didn't go far enough yet. Nothing had been said about cattle and how many head to a driver. Some men, like Tadlock himself, had a big bunch of those cattle and some had no more than their teams and a milk cow or two. It wasn't fair, expecting each man to take turn about when some had more than others. He had a notion to speak up, when Tadlock said, "Many things will have to be worked out as we go along. If we have trouble, the council can settle it. The thing now is immediate organization, so that we can make a start."
   The words were fair, and Evans found himself feeling a little guilty. There wasn't any cause to doubt Tadlock, once you got used to his way. He was a man who liked to take things inhand -and there wasn't anything wrong with that. Like Tadlock had told Summers the night before the funeral, someone had to take responsibility. Tadlock was all right, except for his fool idea about dogs. Nobody had said anything about dogs yet.
   "Any more business?"
   It came then. McBee moved that the dogs be left behind or killed. Hearing him, seeing the words shaped by a mouth bushed around like a terrier's, Evans knew McBee had been put up to it. And he knew, too, of a sudden, that McBee always would side with the top dog. Let Tadlock be upset, and you'd find McBee honey-fuggling the upsetters.
   Was there a second?
   Again it was Brewer, the Illinois man, the German, who spoke. Dogs couldn't travel all dey vay to Oregon. Dogs vould be signal to Indians, yah. Second da motion.
   Tongues all around were wagging. Yes. No. No. Yes. By God, I'd like to see anyone kill my dog! Reckon the fool German never heard of a watchdog. Who in hell wants a dog?
   Tadlock beat on the pan. "Let's thrash this out."
   A half dozen people spoke, one after another, trying to lift their voices above the arguments that were going on all around -McBee, Fairman, Brewer again, a Yankee named Patch, Evans himself. McBee said, 'y God yes, shoot the dogs. They weren't no real good to nobody. Just made more mess to step in. Fairman said let each man do as he pleased, it wasn't a thing for company action.
   Evans shouted, "Ask Dick Summers! Ask Dick!He knows more'n anyone."
   More beating on the pan. "All right, Summers. Speak up!"
   Summers seemed a little uneasy, talking to a crowd. He hitched his leather breeches. "It don't make a heap of difference. Some dogs'll get through; some