Journey by Stephen H. Foreman

Author:Stephen H. Foreman
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Skyhorse
Published: 2017-01-15T00:00:00+00:00

Esau Burdock saw them ride into town and set up shop near where the finish line would be. They were the religious people, but the girl wasn’t theirs, didn’t look like either one of them, taller, lighter than them. He didn’t trust those two. She wasn’t the old Indian’s either. Reuben Moon. Wasn’t that his name? Looked to have some Mexican in him. Who was she? Esau wondered. What was this queer feeling come over him when he looked at her? He’d go over later and talk to them. Be friendly. Right now he had too much to do. There were a thousand men and three thousand horses coming into the settlement, most of them here already, camping up and down the river, spread out all around the place, Indians building lodges, bearded men with tents made of skins. Most of them had beards so full they looked like used brooms. The white women were on the way, two wagons of them. Esau chuckled when he thought what a busy week they had coming. Should be a good week. The trappers would have their memories and their lies. Esau liked to listen to them spin their stories, even though most were full of shit.

A voice interrupted his thoughts. “Mr. Burdock,” someone said. “We caught this dinge in Mexico. Shoulder brand says he’s one of yours.” It was the two slave catchers with a string of horses and an old colored man with a rope around his neck, looked like he was about to die. How’d they walk up on him without him seeing?

“What you want us to do with him?” the older one asked.

“See if the Indians’ll take him. I won’t get no more out of him,” said Esau.

“You owe us for him,” said the younger, the one they called Cottonmouth because the inside of his mouth being all grayish-white. This was the first time Esau had ever heard him speak. Usually, the older one did the talking.

“See what you can get for him then keep it,” said Esau.

“He’s too old and wore out for much,” said Cottonmouth.

“A jug of whiskey be just about right,” said the older man. Cottonmouth smiled and showed his pointy teeth.

“One of them white women be good, too,” he said. “They here yet?”

“Take the whiskey,” said Esau. “The women do their own talking.”

“They here yet?” Cottonmouth asked again.

“You see them? Then they ain’t here yet,” said Esau.

“What about the dinge?” asked the older man, the one called Meshach.

“You heard me once. Trade him to the Indians,” Esau repeated. “He’s good for squaw work.”

“He’ll be dead soon,” offered Cottonmouth.

“Then he won’t eat much, will he?” said Esau

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