Chapter 5

They were delayed while a soldier adjusted the stirrups on AJ's horse so that they fit Frank Jr.'s legs. He was ecstatic, now that he could ride the big animal without fear of falling off every time it changed direction.

They started off again, with a line of soldiers flanking each side of the wagon. The wagon bumped and jarred as Becky and AJ tried to decide what to do.

"You look enough like a girl that you might pass in the dark," she said. "But we must do something about this." She reached for the limp bodice covering AJ's flat chest and pulled it away. Her action created what looked like a single breast as AJ looked down.

The girl rummaged around in the clothing stores and came up with two wads of cloth. She lifted the front of the dress, exposing AJ's groin again, but AJ was so distracted by the soldiers and his fear of imminent discovery that he didn't notice. Becky did, though, and used the opportunity to surreptitiously examine the fascinating thing that made AJ a man.

As she reached under the dress to stuff the bodice with cloth, she stared at the second one of these she had ever seen. Her father had showed her his on more than one occasion when he was drunk, trying to get her to touch it. She'd been disgusted by that one, but this one was much more interesting for some reason. It looked, to her eye, like a poorly stuffed sausage with an exceedingly odd casing. It lay on a round mass that sprouted hairs in every which direction. She knew those were his 'nuts, ' because her father had showed her his nuts, which had looked somewhat similar, except were much more baggy. Her father had drunkenly told her there was something in that droopy sack for her. None of it had been interesting when her father had displayed it. She had learned that if she encouraged him to drink more, eventually he would fall asleep and her ordeal would be over.

This man was different though and, while she couldn't have explained why, she wished she could examine it more closely.

There was a tie that went around the dress just under the bodice and, once she got the cloth stuffed in the loose bodice, she tied that behind his back. Then she had to push and pull to arranged the "breasts" so that they looked smooth, instead of lumpy. AJ looked down, watching her manipulate things and felt his face flame.

"This is ridiculous," he whispered. "If I'm found out they'll not only hang me, they'll be laughing as they do it!"

"Nonsense," she said, standing back and examining him. "Just stay in the wagon until it's dark and don't talk to anybody. I'll tell them you're shy or something. As soon as supper is over I'll say you're not feeling well and you can get back in the wagon."

"What about tomorrow?" AJ asked nervously.

"We'll say you're still not feeling well. You can ride on the seat instead of walking. Don't worry. We can do this. Now, stand up so I can see the bottom of the dress."

She saw, with relief, that the dress was long enough that it dragged the floor. At least his hairy legs wouldn't show. She couldn't find shoes. Even if she did they wouldn't fit. He'd just have to go barefoot.

Frank Jr. was on cloud nine. He was riding free in the wind and, in his own eyes, had been accepted as a man by the soldiers. He wished he had a gun belt like AJ had, but his father had only owned a rifle. He glanced at the rifle in the scabbard on AJ's horse. He was tempted to pull it out and carry it, so he'd appear to be in readiness for trouble. He decided not to hazard the wrath of his mother, though.

He was distracted by a smudge of brown, off to one side in the distance, and urged the horse toward it. It was another cow. He thought carefully about what AJ had taught him. He was taken aback when the horse began acting on its own. Astonished, he found that all he had to do was hold onto the saddle horn as the horse did the herding, jumping and dodging as the cow bawled, its eyes rolling, as it was forced closer and closer to the wagon. Then the beast saw its kin and trotted to join them.

Just like that, another cow had been added to their herd.

Sergeant Dickerson rode up beside the Lieutenant again. He nodded in the distance.

"That ain't no farmer's horse," he said. "That's a cow pony if I ever saw one."

"It appears that way," said Lieutenant Dobbs, who had lost interest in the family once he determined there was no exploration of the woman's soft body in the offing.

"We're looking for a cowboy, Sir," said the Sergeant, thinking for perhaps the thousandth time what a waste officers were in general.

"If he's with them why wouldn't he show himself," said the officer. "He's due a reward."

"He might not know that," said the Sergeant. "Why would he light out after bagging such bad men otherwise?"

"Perhaps he was afraid of retaliation by the men's friends," said Dobbs. "You know how anyone with a reputation as a gunslinger is always sought after by those who would boast of beating him."

"The man we're looking for bested three bad men, Sir," said the Sergeant patiently. "He didn't stay around to brag. There's something funny going on."

The officer shrugged. "Our mission is to sweep the area. If we find him, fine and dandy. If not, then nothing is lost. If he wishes to hide from us, that's not our problem. It's his. Why are you concerned about this, Sergeant?"

"I just like things to add up," said the veteran. He knew that when you heard a story on the frontier, you likely only heard part of the story. He also knew that when an officer made up his mind, there was little chance that common sense could be brought to bear. Colonel Custer was a textbook example of that.

"This is the frontier, Sergeant," said Dobbs. "Nothing adds up in these parts. Life is hard and people do the best they can. Take this woman, for instance. She sets out to make a new life and loses her husband in the process. But does she give up and go back home? That would add up. Instead she becomes a cattle herder and drives on, doing the best she can. She is the kind of woman that makes America strong, Sergeant. She is the kind of woman we're sworn to protect, so she can go on building a new life."

The sergeant knew that if he stayed there, the lecture would go on, possibly for hours. He nodded curtly, said "Very good, Sir!" and wheeled his horse to go 'inspect' the columns.

He watched the horse work the cow into the herd, though, and wondered what was inside that wagon.

The sergeant got his chance to see what was inside the wagon that evening, when two girls climbed out. One was the darling who thought she could shoot all the Indians before they took her hair. That one reminded him of his own dear Amanda, back at the fort.

The second one, whose name had been announced, but which he couldn't remember, was taller and thicker, with more bulk. She went about lugging a pot to the fire. It was obviously too heavy for her, despite her muscle, but she got it there. Then she cut up potatoes into the pot, along with what looked like bits of dried meat. She seemed content minding the pot, stirring it frequently.

He was on his way to talk to the girl when the Lieutenant called out to him.

"Leave them be, Sergeant. She made it clear she wants no commerce between the men and her daughters."

"I was just going to offer them some salt," said Dickerson.

"Give it to the woman and then leave them alone," ordered the officer.

Arabella saw the older soldier walking toward them. AJ was bent over the pot, stirring it and she warned him softly of the soldier's approach. His hand looked entirely too masculine to her and she stepped forward, putting herself between him and the soldier.

"Thought you might could use some salt, Ma'am," said the sergeant.

"Thank you," she said, extending her hand for the small cloth sack the man was holding out.

"Sorry to hear about your man," he said conversationally. He didn't sound all that sorry.

"Thank you," she said again.

"He must have been a pretty good cowman to gather all these strays."

"He was a man of many talents," said Bella. It was obvious the man was trying to make conversation. The question was ... why?

Becky came from the wagon with the bacon her mother had asked her to get. She smiled at the soldier. Bella felt silly standing there with a slab of bacon in her hand, so she handed it to AJ.

"Matilda, darling, add this to the stew." She realized her mistake when his callused hand came up to accept the greasy meat.

The sergeant leaned forward, peering in the firelight. Only the fact that AJ was so young let his hand appear as other than starkly male.

"It's a shame your daughters have to work so hard," he observed. "A woman's hands should be soft and smooth."

Bella held up her own reddened and cracked hands, dried out by sun, dust, and handling all manner of rough things for months. He looked at them.

"Life is hard sometimes," she said. "The Lord sets us challenges, and we do our best to overcome them. Our pastor, back east, says it builds character and a home for us in the afterlife."

The sergeant was suspicious, but he'd been told to leave them be. He made one more try.

"Life is hard," he agreed. "I don't think the Lord would complain if you had things a little easier, though. I doubt that the Lord wanted Matilda to lose her hair, for instance." He looked at the bonnet, where no hair fell loose beneath it.

The form stirring the pot stiffened. Bella felt her stomach tighten. It was all coming unraveled, and she felt like running into the night. She was startled when Becky spoke.

"Lice," she said sadly. "There was a stray dog that ran with us for a while, and Matilda hoped to keep it. She let it sleep with her one night. The next day she was itching all over. Daddy shot the dog, but we had no medicine. We had to shave her poor head. That's why she wears that bonnet all the time." The girl shook her head and looked so mournful that Bella wanted to believe her. "We're hoping it will grow back by the time we reach civilization again. Please don't call attention to it again. She's awfully embarrassed about it."

The sergeant nodded his head.

"That's a shame indeed," he said, taken in by a mere girl. "Well, good night then. I imagine you'll want to be up and about early, to make time. I trust that our bugler playing reveille won't startle you."

"Not at all," said Bella, relaxing a bit. "Have a good night."

"We'll hold you in our evening prayers!" called out Becky happily.

When the man got far enough away, AJ looked up.

"Laying it on a little thick, don't you think?"

"You just tend the stew, Darling," said Bella, feeling better again. "It smells good. You're a daughter a mother can be proud of."

U.S. Marshal Jeremiah Stone relaxed in the leather chair, reading a newspaper and catching up on things. He had delivered the photographs of the dead Fisby brothers along with his report on the mysterious "AJ" who had killed them. He had made it clear in his report that AJ was not suspected of any criminal activity, regarding the incident. It was just another episode of frontier justice, something the Marshal Service had been invented to try to curb, among other things. It was almost dark, and Stone knew he needed a bath before he went to dinner, but sitting there felt so good he was procrastinating. He saw motion out of the corner of his eye and looked up to see the irritated face of his boss, Jeffrey Tomlinson.

"What are you doing just sitting there?" barked Tomlinson.

"I filed my report," said Stone, sounding injured. "I'm just relaxing before dinner. I don't have a new assignment yet."

"Yes you do!" said his boss. "We've got a rustling problem on the Chisholm trail. A herd showed up short in Abilene. They set out with three thousand steers and only twenty-seven hundred were delivered."

"What makes them think it was rustling?" asked Stone.

"If you'd let me finish you'd find out!" snapped Tomlinson. "The drovers had a body with them, apparently. Somebody came in during the night, killed the night watch, and drove off the cattle. Word is it's happened before, but for some reason nobody told us about it."

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