The Homesman by Glendon Swarthout Read Free Book Online Page A

ear, and whispered, “But you watch out for my Gro! Do not put your back to her! She will kill you!”
    Trying to absorb that, she heard herself insisting on a well-built rig of some kind, covered, and a good team, maybe a pair of geldings, which wouldn’t give out on her, plenty of provisions, and a grub box with utensils. She heard their assurances. Dowd read aloud to her a name and address on a piece of paper, which he gave to her: “Altha Carter, wife of Reverend Jonas Carter, Ladies Aid Society, Methodist Church, Hebron, Iowa.” She put it in a pocket. He said he would send off a letter to Altha Carter right away, saying she was coming with four passengers. She listened while he instructed the three husbands to prepare papers for their wives, the names and addresses of close relatives to whom the women might be entrusted back east. Mary Bee, he said, would carry them with her for Altha Carter. He advised them to dress their wives warmly and simply for the trip, nothing fancy, and she heard herself adding that they should send blankets and pack in a sack a few toilet articles such as comb and brush and soap, also a handtowel or two and a change of underclothing. Dowd snapped fingers. What was to be done about Vester Belknap? Mary Bee said she’d let him know what had been decided. Very well, then, he said to the men. He hoped they had heeded because he might not see them again before Miss Cuddy came by to pick up their wives. He asked her again how long, and she replied she’d prefer to start in a week. One last thing, the minister said. The less said about the journey and this whole tragic episode the better—for their own sakes and that of the other women in the neighborhood.
    Otto Petzke and Thor Svendsen and Garn Sours thanked Miss Cuddy, and told her everything would be ready for her in a week, she could count on it, and they and their families would be grateful to her always, and clumped to the door with Dowd. She heard the door close, and looked to see Alfred Dowd returning. He sat down on the bench beside her. The day was darkening fast, and hence the room. He took her big hands in his.
    â€œMy dear lady,” he said. “This is incredible, and splendid. Why, why did you do it?”
    â€œI thought I had to.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œVester won’t. Sours is a boy. I saw how the others didn’t want to. I’m free.”
    He reflected. “Remember what I said about the four wives? Asked to give beyond their power to give? Have you asked too much of yourself? Are you truly up to something as difficult as this? As dangerous?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œI believe you. But if you have second thoughts, let me know. We can draw again. Or I will go in your place if I have to.”
    She was silent.
    â€œVery well.” He released her hands. “What’s done is done. It’s so like you.”
    He leaned forward and rested elbows on knees, thinking. His boots were muddy, the first spring mud she had seen. She noticed how hollow was his stubbled cheek, and how apparent was the bald spot at the back of his head. He was getting on, yet never slacked his pace. There must be men, too, she thought, on the ragged edge. She had heard of a middling young bachelor named Winbegger, up near Loup, who hung himself.
    He spoke. “If you leave in a week, I may not see you before. So while I can, I’d better tell you about the women. What drove each of them over the brink. Mrs. Belknap’s case you know. But the other three.”
    â€œMust you?”
    â€œI think so. If you’re to tend them, to understand them, shouldn’t you know as much as you can?”
    â€œYou’re right.”
    He told her about Arabella Sours.
    He told her about Hedda Petzke.
    He told her about Gro Svendsen.
    â€œAnd there they are. Your charges,” he concluded. “Now you know the worst.” He waited for her reaction. There was none.
    He went to the