to Mack, who had forty or more, so's to earn something. Rebecca thought that Mack couldn't have got a faithfuller man.
Rebecca punched the near ox with the stick she carried. She wanted to keep close to Lije. Sometimes she let the team lag a little, but, with the wind blowing sad and her body sore and her mind low in spite of her, she wanted to keep up today. Here along the Little Blue they would have had dust in their faces except that it had showered the night before. Wagons at the end had to bear a sight of dust, and so it was they traded places day by day, the back ones moving up and the fore ones coming back.
She made herself look around and take note of the land. They had been through changing country, the woods and hills first and then prairies such as she imagined must lie on the near side of the Rocky Mountains; then woods again and limestone and big hills along the Big Vermilion. Here the country seemed to be reopening. The eye could travel farther, and the trees were more separated into groves. You couldn't tell for sure, though; tomorrow things might close in again.
The wind that blew was not like the winds of home. It was steadier and more devilish, streaming out of the west as if there was no end to it. It bent the trees or whistled over a bald hill and ran down the hollows as if just to push at the train. People said, though, that it wasn't anything; wait until farther on. But it was enough. It was more than enough.
She was glad when the train had to stop. She took a breath and rubbed her sore behind with one hand, not caring much who saw her, and then walked up to Lije before he took it into his head to go see what was the matter. He said, "Watch the critters, will you, Becky?"
"Wait, Lije! You don't have to do all the work. Can't we talk a minute?"
He started to object, she knew, and then he looked at her and said, "Why, sure thing. What's wrong?"
"I just wanted to talk, is all."
"About what?"
"Just talk."
"You ain't like yourself, Becky. Wore out, I bet."
"I'm all right."
"Whyn't you ride, 'stead of walkin'?"
"I'm all right. It's just the wind and all."
"Down in your mind?"
"A little."
"No cause to be down. Things is fine. You just make yourself think things is fine and, sure enough, you'll see they are."
"That forever-blowin' wind."
"I was just sayin' to myself it's a nice day for travel."
She didn't answer but stepped up and turned around so as to talk to Lije with her back to the breeze.
She knew herself for a strong-enough woman, but now she needed his strength. "You think things will be all right, sure enough, Lije?"
"Slicker'n grease, honey," he said, using the rare name for her as if he understood her need. "Don't you fret yourself. Hear?"
She heard sounds behind her and turned and saw Tadlock corning on a horse. He spoke while he was two jumps away.
"We'll corral."
"All right," Lije answered.
"Summers says this is the last chance to get timber for axletrees and tongues. I'll have to assume he's right, I guess."
"Dick knows."
"Some of the women want to stop, too," Tadlock said as if faulting them. "They say they just have to get some washing done."
"So?"
"I dislike these endless halts."
"We'll need axles and tongues before we're through." Tadlock said, "I suppose so -but it's annoying."
When he had ridden on, Lije said, "That there Tadlockl"
"High and mighty, ain't he?"
"Galls me."
"You been on his side."
Lije nodded a slow yes. "I don't guess I'm for cuttin' him down. Not yet."
"Some are. Patch and Gorham and Daugherty, I hear. Is that so, Lije?"
Lije kept on nodding. "It ain't bossiness altogether, neither. They say he talks hurry, but it's his critters that slows us up. He ain't got enough hands. Just Martin and McBee part of the time."
"Ain't they right?"
"Yep." Lije
Rebecca punched the near ox with the stick she carried. She wanted to keep close to Lije. Sometimes she let the team lag a little, but, with the wind blowing sad and her body sore and her mind low in spite of her, she wanted to keep up today. Here along the Little Blue they would have had dust in their faces except that it had showered the night before. Wagons at the end had to bear a sight of dust, and so it was they traded places day by day, the back ones moving up and the fore ones coming back.
She made herself look around and take note of the land. They had been through changing country, the woods and hills first and then prairies such as she imagined must lie on the near side of the Rocky Mountains; then woods again and limestone and big hills along the Big Vermilion. Here the country seemed to be reopening. The eye could travel farther, and the trees were more separated into groves. You couldn't tell for sure, though; tomorrow things might close in again.
The wind that blew was not like the winds of home. It was steadier and more devilish, streaming out of the west as if there was no end to it. It bent the trees or whistled over a bald hill and ran down the hollows as if just to push at the train. People said, though, that it wasn't anything; wait until farther on. But it was enough. It was more than enough.
She was glad when the train had to stop. She took a breath and rubbed her sore behind with one hand, not caring much who saw her, and then walked up to Lije before he took it into his head to go see what was the matter. He said, "Watch the critters, will you, Becky?"
"Wait, Lije! You don't have to do all the work. Can't we talk a minute?"
He started to object, she knew, and then he looked at her and said, "Why, sure thing. What's wrong?"
"I just wanted to talk, is all."
"About what?"
"Just talk."
"You ain't like yourself, Becky. Wore out, I bet."
"I'm all right."
"Whyn't you ride, 'stead of walkin'?"
"I'm all right. It's just the wind and all."
"Down in your mind?"
"A little."
"No cause to be down. Things is fine. You just make yourself think things is fine and, sure enough, you'll see they are."
"That forever-blowin' wind."
"I was just sayin' to myself it's a nice day for travel."
She didn't answer but stepped up and turned around so as to talk to Lije with her back to the breeze.
She knew herself for a strong-enough woman, but now she needed his strength. "You think things will be all right, sure enough, Lije?"
"Slicker'n grease, honey," he said, using the rare name for her as if he understood her need. "Don't you fret yourself. Hear?"
She heard sounds behind her and turned and saw Tadlock corning on a horse. He spoke while he was two jumps away.
"We'll corral."
"All right," Lije answered.
"Summers says this is the last chance to get timber for axletrees and tongues. I'll have to assume he's right, I guess."
"Dick knows."
"Some of the women want to stop, too," Tadlock said as if faulting them. "They say they just have to get some washing done."
"So?"
"I dislike these endless halts."
"We'll need axles and tongues before we're through." Tadlock said, "I suppose so -but it's annoying."
When he had ridden on, Lije said, "That there Tadlockl"
"High and mighty, ain't he?"
"Galls me."
"You been on his side."
Lije nodded a slow yes. "I don't guess I'm for cuttin' him down. Not yet."
"Some are. Patch and Gorham and Daugherty, I hear. Is that so, Lije?"
Lije kept on nodding. "It ain't bossiness altogether, neither. They say he talks hurry, but it's his critters that slows us up. He ain't got enough hands. Just Martin and McBee part of the time."
"Ain't they right?"
"Yep." Lije
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