PART 4: THE RIVER ROAD - 1874

The CHIMNEY and the 'BOSS of the WEST'

 

 

Elizabeth used their drinking water to wash around the bandages that had stiffened like plaster around Jessamine's chest and broken arm. With another bowl of clean water and a rag, she carefully sponged her sister’s hair, and the scratches on her face and hands. In one of Pa’s old shirts, Jessamine felt better, and even allowed a dab of cinnamon oil to cover the sharp smell of alkali mud that remained.

Painfully, she managed to pull herself onto the wagon seat, watching Him harness the team. He hesi­tated only once over the traces, and when she called directions, he scowled. A man who doesn’t like taking orders, she noted.

“You recover fast,” he said, springing up onto the seat beside her. She was pale, but the scratches on her nose and cheek were already fading. Her damp hair curled at her neck in tiny wisps. Her hat, though it was advertised as lightweight and waterproof, had nevertheless suffered from dust, rain, river water and mud. Charlie had tried to clean it, beating it against the wagon box to shake loose any remainder of dried mud.

She tried to re-shape it when he handed it to her, then set it on her lap with a sigh of frustration. The “Boss of the West” had lost its authority. Even the fine-edged rim was ruffled and scraped. It was a big part of her disguise, and the 4 inch brim kept the sun out of her eyes, but she hated to pull it over her clean hair just yet.

“Your hat has seen better days,” he pointed out.

“It was guaranteed to be waterproof, or I might not have splurged $5 on it,” she muttered with regret.

“You won’t need it at Fort Laramie.”

“I loved the way it kept the sun off my face.”

“The women at the fort use parasols for that.”

“Hah!" she snorted. "You won’t find me carrying one of them prissy things. I’ve seen women use them like courting fans, twirling and hiding little flirts behind them. They're best used for beating away mad dogs and suitors!”

He laughed heartily, and noticed she wore an oversized homespun shirt with one sleeve rolled up, the other disappearing into the sling made from his old bandana. He also noticed her clean, tight pants did little to conceal her long, shapely legs, and she smelled like cinnamon.

When he leaned against her and sniffed, Jessamine scooted sideways and blinked self-consciously. “I hate being dirty as much as I hate being helpless,” she confessed. “I wouldn't make a good nurse, either.”

“An impatient patient,” he grinned. “I see you managed to part company with my shirt.”

“Couldn’t live with the stink.”

“The stink or the smell of a man?” he winked.

“You’re awfully arrogant, for an Indian,” she snorted.

His eyes flashed briefly. “You’re quick to point out my better half. I think we’re even. I’ve seen better than half of you—twice now!”

Eyes narrowed with anger, a rich stain colored her cheeks. Flustered, she could think of no clever retort. Instinctively, she wanted to strike at him with her good arm, and might have done so, had Elizabeth and Charlie not appeared at that instant.

Mitch offered a hand to Charlie, pulling him up onto the wagon seat. Seeing there was no room for the four of them, Lizzie decided to walk alongside the wagon.

Looking back, Chimney Rock was still in view, becoming a staff now, rather than the time-chiseled limbless tree of Jessamine’s imagination. “I still think it looks more like a dead tree than a chimney,” she mused aloud.

“The Indians never thought it looked like a chimney either,” Mitch told them.

“What did they call it?” Charlie asked.

“The elk penis.”

Charlie howled with laughter until Jessamine scowled at him. The scratches on her face disappeared into another flush that nearly matched the color of her hair. When she glared at Mitch, he shrugged and his mouth twisted into that lazy, mocking grin that so annoyed her.

“Only another legend,” he smirked, clucking at the horses.

“What’s so funny?” Lizzie called from beside the wagon.

“Nothing!” Jessamine and Mitch yelled in unison.
Charlie clapped his hand over his mouth, bottling up the giggles that made the wagon seat tremble. Jessamine turned her head aside, pretending to fuss with her sling while she bit her lip to control the smile that simmered at the corner of her mouth.