North to Yesterday

Chapter 7

Chapter 7 THE Preacher scraped the hot coals off the dutch oven, lifted the lid, and satisfied that the sourdoughs were browning properly, replaced the lid and the coals and took a last look around to see that everything was in order. The beans had cooked so long that not even Pretty Shadow could say they rattled in the plate, and the beef had been chopped with the butcher knife until it was malleable. Deciding the coffee had boiled long enough, he moved the pot to the edge of the coals and threw in a dash of cold water to settle the grounds. Satisfied that everything was ready for the men's return from the herd, he picked up the baby from under the wagon where he had been playing with a spoon, ran his hands over the baby's legs to brush off any ants or spiders that might have gotten on him, and changed his diaper. He applied coal oil to the red welts caused by mosquitoes and chiggers and tickled the baby's stomach. "There'll be milk for you as soon as the men are fed," he said, shaking the baby's tiny fist. "And I aim to rush them." The baby, good-natured now that the sun had passed, taking the prickly heat and hot, heavy air with it, stared at the Preacher in near-sighted perplexity and smiled. Hearing the men returning to the wagon, he gave the baby an old, dried biscuit to suck on and set him on the ground under the wagon where he would not be stepped on. 183 The day had been sultry, and the exhausted, sweat-drenched, irritable men, who had been trailing the herd since daybreak without stopping for food or drink, returned to the wagon dreaming of cool clean water, light fluffy sourdoughs, and a night of uninterrupted sleep under the stars. "Preacher, you got any fresh water?" Lampassas asked, splashing water from the washpan at his sweat-grimed face. "After I made the coffee and beans, I only had a little dab left, so I put it in the sourdoughs. But there's water in the barrel." "You call that water? Back home we'd use that to make ,dobes," Lampassas said, mopping his neck with his bandana and sitting down beside the wagon. "Jamie, would you take the bucket and go down to the spring and get us some fresh?" "Sure, Pa." "I can't wait," June said. "I'll just start off with some of this old muddy." "Pour me out a little," Covina said. "After you've been in the drag all day, it all tastes like mud." Dropping her hat in the wagon, she bent over and dusted out her hair. Brushing it back with the grimy, gap-toothed comb, she put her hat back on, took the cup of water from June, rinsed her mouth, and stepped around to the other side of the wagon to spit. When she returned , June was already filling his plate. Taking a plate from the chuck-box lid, Covina fell in behind him. "You-all go ahead," Lampassas said. "I can't eat a bite till I've wet my mouth with some of that fresh water." He rubbed his bare knee where it protruded through his trousers and pointed off to the northeast. "That valley I been telling you about is up ahead. I figure on driving the herd in there tomorrow and letting them graze three or four days to rest up and put on some weight. I figure after that last stompede we can use the rest, too. Maybe patch up our bedrolls and clothes some. Repair the wagon." "I got to have another sole," June said. "I can't tell any more when I'm barefoot." NOR TH to YESTERDAY "We'll take care of that tomorrow," Lampassas said. "Covina , soon as you finish, you relieve Pretty Shadow so he can eat. June, as soon as he eats, I want you-all to-you-all can bring back some milk. Then you and Jamie take the next watch." June groaned at the prospect of having to milk a cow and stand a watch before he could go to sleep. "You can rest tomorrow ," Lampassas said. The Kid returned with a bucket of fresh water and triumphantly set it before his father. "Did you get it at the spring...