No Less Than the Journey by E.V. Thompson Read Free Book Online Page A

the other man’s hand, ‘… and I’ll write that letter to the President.’
    When the Missouri Belle left Vicksburg behind, the men who had taken part in the fight against the river pirates were treated as heroes – and none more so than Aaron, who shrugged off the adulation.
    Replying to Wes, who had commented on Aaron’s popularity after one female passenger had come to their table in the dining saloon with effusive words of praise, Aaron said, ‘If you haven’t learned it already, you’ll come to realize folk are fickle, Wes. Today’s hero is just as likely to be tomorrow’s scapegoat. It’s best to ignore both praise and scorn and be true to the things you believe in. When it comes right down to it, you’re the one who’s got to live with yourself.’
    ‘That’s the sort of thing my pa would say to me,’ Wes said. ‘He was very much his own man too.’
    ‘Is he still alive?’ Aaron asked. Apart from Wes’s early disclosure that his father had been a gamekeeper, he had said very little about his family.
    Wes shook his head, ‘Neither pa, nor my ma. When she caught pneumonia and died, he went to stay with his sister in a small fishing village just as cholera arrived there. They were both buried with little more than a month between them.’
    ‘Is that why you left to come to America?’
    Wes shrugged, ‘Partly, but it wasn’t the only reason. The mines had fallen on hard times and there was nothing to keep me in Cornwall. A brother of ma’s, who I’d once worked with, and who is my only close relative now, had come out here to a place called Harmony, in Missouri, and written to say there was no shortage of work for a good Cornish miner. I thought I’d give it a try.’
    ‘There are easier ways to earn a living than burrowing underground like some varmint,’ Aaron said.
    Wes laughed, ‘Such as going around looking for men like river pirates and getting shot at? You call that an easy occupation?’
    ‘I’d say more men are killed underground in the mines than in enforcing the law, Wes.’
    ‘That’s only because there are a lot more miners than marshals,’ Wes pointed out. ‘A careful miner might live to a good age.’
    Aaron shrugged, ‘Only if the men he works with are just as careful. You might say it’s not too different for a lawman – but we won’t argue about it. If ever you change your mind I’ll be happy to take you on as a deputy.’
    ‘Where will I find you?’ Wes asked, ‘Will you be going back up north now you’ve dealt with the river pirates?’
    Aaron shook his head, ‘That was just a sideshow, something I was asked to look at as I was passing this way. I’m on my way to the Territories. There’s a shortage of law out that way, with few local sheriffs or town marshals to get on top of it.’
    ‘And that’s supposed to be safer than mining?’ Wes said, quizzically. ‘No thanks, Aaron, I’ll stick with what I know best.’
     
    As more and more people drew up chairs to the table and engaged the US Marshal in conversation, Wes made hisexcuses and left the crowded and noisy saloon. Making his way outside, he paused for a few moments, breathing in the warm but fresher air than that in the smoke-filled room he had just left. Then he headed towards the front of the vessel, where the long wooden gangway that had been the scene of so much bloodshed, stretched out at an angle of forty-five degrees, beyond the blunt bow of the steamboat.
    It was dark now but from a wing of the pilot house perched atop the vessel’s superstructure, the beam from a powerful acetylene lantern probed the sluggish and muddy waters as the river pilot expertly negotiated the twists and turns of the mighty waterway artery that carried life and commerce to and from the young heart of America.
    It was cooler out here, but not a great deal quieter. The windows of the saloon had been thrown open to allow at least some of the heat and cigar smoke to escape, but these twin discomforts were pursued