Boone's Lick

"Where will we go?" I asked.

"To wherever your pa is," Ma said. "I'm out of patience with him. This baby's about ready to crawl and he's never laid eyes on her. He's not been home in fourteen months, and then it was only for two nights. If he won't come and see us, then we'll go and see him. And if he don't like it I'll leave him."

Then she scooped up Marcy and headed for the cabin, leaving me where I sat, with thoughts buzzing around in my head like bumblebees. Just the fact that Ma was going to allow us to go off with the posse would have been enough to think about, but on top of that came the news about a trip 20

to see Pa, wherever he was. Once the fact of it sunk in a little I got so excited I wanted to run around in circles. I wanted to wake up G.T. and tell him the double good news, about the posse and the trip, but it turned out I didn't have to wake him up. Just as I was trying to think of some way to work off my excitement, G.T. came walking up from the river, carrying a dead coon by the tail.

"I slipped up on him while he was cracking a mussel," G.T. said. "Coon meat's just as good as horse meat--there just ain't as much of it."

I was dying to spill my news but I knew I had better take a minute to admire G.T.'s kill, or he'd pout for a week.

"What'd you do, chunk it?" I asked. "Chunked it," G.T. said.

"Guess what, we're going on a trip--two trips, that is," I said, unable to hold the news a minute longer. "First we're going with the posse, and then we're going upriver to look for Pa."

"You're lying!" G.T. said. Then he stomped off in a sulk, because I hadn't paid enough attention to his coon.

7 G.T. and I had a fistfight--a short one--before the night was over. I crawled up in the loft of the cabin, where we kids slept, and was trying to calm down and get some sleep when G.T. shot up the ladder and started punching me. That was the way G.T. started all his fights--he was a firm believer in getting in the first lick. He got in about three licks and I managed two before Neva woke up and yelled at us.

Ma heard Neva and got into it right away. "G.T, do you want me to come up there?" Ma asked.

G.T. definitely didn't, so that was the end of that fight.

"I'll beat the stuffings out of you tomorrow," he whispered, before settling down to snore.

It was only then that I remembered that Ma had said she would leave Pa, if he didn't welcome our visit--that was an unsettling thought, for sure.

It seemed like only a few minutes later that the racket started in the freight yard. When Uncle Seth shook me awake the world was white, with a close, chilly mist off the river.

"Bring your brother," Uncle Seth said, which was easier said than done.

G.T. was a sound sleeper. I shook him and shook him--finally Neva stuck a pin in his toe, two or three times, which brought him around. We could hear horses in the freight yard--or maybe they were our mules. Ma gave us chickory coffee, a rare treat.

"You need to get your wits stirring, if you're going off with these long riders here," she said.

The only long rider I could see, besides Uncle Seth, was Sheriff Baldy Stone, who was evidently cold natured. He stood by the fireplace, warming his hands.

"Eddie, it's just eight miles to Stump town," Ma said. "What's the point of leaving so early?"

21

"The point is, there might be a siege," the sheriff said, "and if it's a long siege we stand to leave the services of Mr. Hickok. This is Thursday and he don't work on Fridays. I want to take advantage of as much of Thursday as I can."

"There's another thing," Ma said. "I've told Seth and I'll tell you and I'll even tell Mr. Hickok, if he puts in an appearance."

"What's the other thing?" the sheriff asked.

"I expect you to bring both my boys back alive, that's the other thing,"

Ma said.

Then she gave us a few strips of horse meat to stuff in our saddlebags, after which she went outside and disappeared in the mist.

"You heard her, now stay alive," the sheriff said. "I would rather not be on the bad side of your ma." "For that matter, I'd rather not be dead," I remarked. G.T., who was still half asleep, thought it was so fu

When we went out to the lots we found that Uncle Seth had already saddled each of us a mule, and Mr. Hickok was there, sitting off to himself on a good sorrel horse. Ma was just walking away from him when we came out. I imagine she was warning him, just as she had warned the sheriff.

She didn't say another word to us, which upset G.T. a little.

"I hope she don't forget to skin my coon," he said--his lower lip was trembling. I doubt it was really that coon that he had on his mind.

Uncle Seth seemed to be in a quiet mood, which was unusual for him.

Everybody had rifles and pistols except us, which didn't sit well with G.T. "I need a pistol and so does Shay," he said. "No, no side arms for you boys," Uncle Seth said. "Side arms are only reliable in the hands of experts, and sometimes not then. I'm not too comfortable with the notion of Baldy having a pistol, but it's too early in the day to be disarming the sheriff. Is that your opinion, Bill?"

"I am rarely up this early," Mr. Hickok said. "I don't have an opinion."

"I've put you boys on the fastest mules," Uncle Seth said. "That way you can outrun the Millers if vou have to."

Mr. Hickok was all wrapped up in a gray slicker. He took one hand out from under his slicker and pointed his finger several times.

"Shooting a pistol is just a matter of pointing," he said. "If you can point straight you can shoot straight.

"Very few people can point straight," he added, and then he didn't say another word until we were almost to Stumptown.

It was the thickest mist, that morning. If there hadn't been a well-marked track between Boone's Lick and Stumptown I have no doubt we would all have got lost from one another. Some of the time I couldn't even see my mule's head. I had to listen for the jingling of the bits and the 22

creaking of the saddle leather to convince myself that I was still with the group. Sometimes the mist would clear for a minute and I would see everybody plain as day, but then it would close in again, white as cotton, and I'd have to proceed on hearing.

G.T. was bothered by the ground mist, too. He was so anxious not to lose me that he kept bumping my mule, Little Nicky, a mule with a tendency to bite when he got irritated.

"You best quit bumping Nicky," I told G.T. "He'll take a bite out of you, if you're not careful."

"If he bites me I'll shoot him," G.T. said. "It's spooky out here. I wish I'd stayed home and butchered my coon."

"Well, you didn't," I pointed out.

"I'd go back, if I could find my way," G.T. said. "If you'd go with me I expect we could both make it back."

"Hush, G.T.," Uncle Seth said. "We're trying to take the Millers by surprise, which we won't do if you keep chattering."

"That's right, button up," Sheriff Baldy said. There was no more talk from G.T. but I knew he was resentful--he never liked being scolded.

Myself, I was feeling queasy in my stomach, even though I'd had no vittles except Ma's chickory coffee. I felt like I usually felt when Uncle Seth took us bear hunting. We saw no bears on any of the hunts but of course a bear can appear at any time. "They like to spring at you from hiding," Uncle Seth said cheerfully, and all day, that's what I kept expecting would happen. A bear would spring at us from hiding.