The All-True Travels and Adventures of Lidie Newton_ A Novel - Jane Smiley [70]
"Now," said the old man, "you got nine men here and a boy lying in wait back there." He gestured toward Frank. Thomas glanced in that direction and rolled his eyes heavenward. "We got the five of us. You may drive us off if you dare, but we an’t gonna go quick and we an’t gonna go easy."
"We’d prefer to buy you out," said Mr. Bush, evenly. In answer, the boy who had shouted stooped down suddenly and picked up a stone, which he flung at Mr. Bush, knocking off his hat. With all the quick movements of our men in response to this, our horses jumped and snorted. Thomas bent down and picked up Mr. Bush’s hat and handed it to him. I was afraid of what might happen, but then Mr. James said in a loud, compelling voice, "We’ll be back," and he turned and rode off. Momentarily, we all followed him. Reaching Frank, I pulled him up behind me, then followed the others. When we came to the spot where we were to turn off to our claim, Thomas slipped down from the Smithsons’ mule and I slipped off Jeremiah. We walked along at his head, and Frank sat on his back. There was so much now to be said that I kept my mouth shut and waited to see what Thomas would want to say.
We struck out over the prairie grasses, following a pale track. The grass, like the leaves, was green but dry, and it rustled with our steps. Buzzards and hawks floated in the blue sky above us. Thomas was wearing a bleached muslin shirt, and it glowed in the early-afternoon sunlight. He said nothing. Behind us, Frank called out, "There’re some prairie chickens over there—you want me to shoot ’em?" He didn’t care much; when we didn’t answer, he started to whistle. My trousers, or rather, Thomas’s trousers that I was wearing, were easier to ride in than to walk in, but I found myself getting used to them. They didn’t need to be held up, and they didn’t snag on upthrusting weeds and burrs.
The Missourians had seemed obdurate and threatening. I didn’t see how we could either accommodate them in our midst or remove them. Their evident sentiment that they were tougher and manlier than we were seemed true—our men made a picture of frustration and ineffectuality. The southerners’ bragging and posing had had an effect on me, and it looked to me as though it had had an effect on the men, too. I wondered why they didn’t simply shoot us. Clearly they were tempted. Of course, we had our Sharps rifles, designed for something other than killing game. It was as if a veil hung between the two parties that prevented calculated attack. Just then, the veil seemed to me wispy and easily rent, as if shooting would be as easy as not shooting, but really, I didn’t know what the veil was made of or what passions it could resist.
Thomas said, "I don’t want to have to shoot them." His voice was calm.
"I don’t want them to have to shoot us."
"It’s better all around if there is no shooting at all."
"Our men look so ... helpless!"
"Do they?"
"Yes. I—"
"Then you needn’t watch, my dear, because spectators always increase the possibility that someone will shoot just to raise himself in the spectators’ estimation. I assure you that those men took one look at our weapons and revised any notions they might have had about our helplessness." He smiled. "Even before reinforcements arrived."
Frank called out, "It was my idea, Tom Newton. I got her to wear them clothes and take me over there. Next time, I’ll just go along with you."
"Are you angry that we came?"
"Well, now, I don’t know. Your coming into danger, our coming into danger, Frank’s coming into danger—the causes of all this are so compounded together that I don’t khow who to blame and I don’t know who should be restricted or why. I don’t want my wife to get hurt, but I think your firsthand knowledge of the course of events will benefit us in the end. And you shoot better than I."
"No doubt Frank shoots better than the both of us, but that doesn’t mean we want to