The Way West by A. B. Guthrie Jr. Read Free Book Online

   "It's a long piece, for them as ain't young or used to it."
   "I put my faith in Him."
   "You won't have any trouble findin' a company. There's plenty aim to go, from Independence and St. Joe."
   "What about yours?"
   "It ain't mine, even if I go. Companies make their own rules. I reckon they'd be glad to have you."
   Mrs. Evans tugged at Summers' arm. "Come and eat."
   "Maybe I better see Tadlock," he answered. "I'll be back in a shake."
   Tadlock was standing just outside the door. "We'd like to talk to you a minute, if you'll forgive us for coming at this time."
   "Who is it?" Summers asked, as if he didn't know. "Several of us, representing the society."
   Mrs. Evans' voice floated out the door. "I declare! You ought to give a man time to eat."
   Tadlock led the way over to the big oak that shaded the cabin at noon, or that would shade it when it got its leaves out. There were four other men there, counting Lije Evans, who spoke up to say, "This ain't my idea, Dick."
   Tadlock said, "Someone has to take responsibility." He stood solid on his feet. His face turned from Evans to Summers. "This isn't pleasant, let me tell you. But it was a month ago, almost, that we asked you, and you didn't quite say yes or no, and now, as we see it, you have no particular reason to stay on here. Time is running short. We have to have an answer. We want to be first on the way. Are you going to pilot us or not? If not, we must find another man."
   "Maybe you better be lookin' around."
   "As I said, we want to be first out, so we don't have to eat the dirt of trains ahead of us, so that we'll have grazing for our stock."
   "Good idea," Summers said.
   Evans put in, "We'd rather have you, Dick."
   "It's just that we can't fool around," Tadlock said. There was something about him, about his stand and his talk, that put Summers a little in mind of a man daring you to spit in his face.
   "Do what you please," Summers answered.
   He turned and made for the cabin, thinking over what he had said, thinking it wouldn't have made any difference if he had told them now. It was just that Tadlock graveled him -and perhaps for no good reason at all except his outside manner. A man didn't like to be pushed.
   Summers already knew well enough what his answer was. He wished the funeral was over. He would sell out, except for the land itself, which he might have to come back to, and except for the critters he would need. He would saw open the big log where he had cached his beaver, banks being what they were. He would saw open the log that he had bored into and put his money in and sealed with a peg sawed flush. It wouldn't take him long to get ready.
   The breeze that fanned his face might have swept down out of the far mountains, across the long roll of the plains, from places realer to him still than the ground he walked on.
 

    Chapter Four
    THE WAGON, backed up to the back door, was nearly full, but not so full it wouldn't take what was left in the house. The pots and pans had been boxed and loaded, the bedding rolled up, the good dishes, such as they were, buried safe in the barreled flour, the clothing packed away, the few pieces of furniture they would try to take along mostly stowed beneath the wagon cover.
   There wasn't much to do, not much before they closed the door and rolled away and left the Evans home to be somebody else's. Doing the last-minute things, finding a forgotten towel or stirring spoon, sweeping up so's to leave the cabin tidy, Rebecca Evans tried to match the cheerful hurry of the men. They had got the second wagon loaded, with bought food, plows and harness, the grinding stone and anvil, tools, the heavy stuff that Lije thought might be scarce in Oregon. Afterwards they'd tramped from the barn to start emptying out the house, Brownie asking, "What's next, Ma? What's next?" Lije saying, "It don't matter much now how we load. We'll straighten