The Homesman by Glendon Swarthout Read Free Book Online

four families have been stricken—I include Vester’s.” He stopped. He was going round and round the barn and knew it. He cleared his throat. “I’ve spoken to all of you about the system. We draw lots. One of you will escort the women east, to Iowa. The other three must provide the conveyance, the team, and the supplies. It’s a method that succeeded last year, and I have no doubt will this. Now.” He dug in a pocket, picked up his hat, and dropped something in it. “I’ve put four kernels of corn in here. Three are yellow, one is black. Whoever draws the black goes east. Now I’ll shake them up.” He held the hat by its brim, revolved it, then held it out high. “Shall we defer to the lady? Miss Cuddy, will you draw first?”
    â€œNo, thank you,” she said. “Vester isn’t here. I think he should draw last. I’ll defer to Mr. Sours.”
    â€œOh,” said Dowd. “All right. Garn, will you draw?
    The youth rose, stepped over the first bench, almost tripping himself, reached high into the hat, and sat down with a groan, holding up a yellow kernel for all to see.
    â€œOtto?” Dowd invited, moving toward him.
    Otto Petzke hesitated. He had an Old Country habit of resting his right hand against his neck under his brown beard. He took it out now, stood, reached, and fumbled in the hat, then opened his hand. “ Lieber Gott ,” he murmured, thrust a yellow kernel at the others, and sat down again, heavily.
    â€œThor?” said the minister.
    Thor Svendsen looked at Mary Bee, then loomed to his feet, shoved a big hand into the hat, and withdrew it, closed. He brought the hand to his chest before opening it, then rumbled with relief, extending the hand like a platter, palm up, to show the yellow kernel.
    All looked at Mary Bee.
    â€œHe won’t go,” she said.
    â€œHe will,” said Dowd.
    â€œHe told me he won’t.”
    â€œIf he loves God he will.”
    â€œHe’s got to!” cried Garn Sours.
    Mary Bee stood. “I told him you’d make him. He said if you try, he has a long rifle.”
    â€œHe must,” repeated Dowd. “Or the whole system breaks down.”
    Otto Petzke jumped up and raised a fist. “He will so do it! I will thrash him!”
    â€œWe also have rifles,” threatened Thor Svendsen. “Three of them! We make him all right!”
    â€œOh, my, my,” Dowd despaired. “We can’t have bloodshed. I never expected—”
    â€œI’ll go,” said Mary Bee.
    Had it not been for the wind outside, the silence would have been absolute.
    â€œYou can’t,” said the minister.
    â€œYes, I can,” she said. “It makes sense. Vester can see to my stock.”
    â€œA woman,” muttered Thor Svendsen.
    â€œI can ride as well as you. And handle a team. And shoot,” she said to them. “And I can cook. And I can care for the women better than you.”
    They looked at each other. Alfred Dowd stepped behind the pulpit and leaned forearms on it. He seemed more shocked and bewildered than they. “We simply cannot allow this,” he said.
    â€œWould you trust him with them?” she asked.
    â€œVester is just as responsible for—”
    â€œWould you really?”
    This was inarguable. He looked away.
    â€œShe’s right!” cried Garn Sours. “Miss Cuddy, this is just mighty white of you!”
    Her legs were sapped of their strength then, and she sat down on her bench.
    â€œWhen would you go?” asked the minister.
    â€œAs soon as I can. We’ll have better weather now. A week, ten days. So I can be back in time to get in a crop.”
    â€œMiss Cuddy, you are a fine lady,” said Otto Petzke, almost bowing to her.
    â€œThat is right,” agreed Thor Svendsen. “You tell us what you need, we will get it.” Still nodding agreement he stooped to her, suddenly, cupped a hand to her