Finally July came in the room and closed the door.
'The doctor says you're strong enough to talk,' July said, wiping his eyes on his shirtsleeve. 'You don't have to talk, though. You just lie there and get well. I won't stay very long. I just wanted you to know I came.'
Elmira looked at him once and then looked at the wall. Well, you're a fool, she thought. You ought not to have followed. You ought to just told folks I was dead.
'I got one piece of bad news,' July said, and his eyes filled up again. 'It's real bad, and it's my fault. Joe got killed, him and Roscoe and a girl. An outlaw killed them. I ought to have stayed with them, but I don't know if it would have come out different if I had.'
You wouldn't be here telling me, anyway, Elmira thought.
The news about Joe didn't touch her. She had never thought much about Joe. He had come when she had other things to worry about and she had never got in the habit of worrying about him. He gave her less trouble than July, though. At least he had sense enough to figure out she didn't want to be bothered with him, and had let her alone. If he was dead, that was that. She didn't remember him well-he hadn't talked much. He had just run out of luck on the plains. It might have happened to her, and she wished it had.
'Ellie, the baby's fine,' July said. 'I didn't even know it was ours, that's the funny thing. I seen Clara holding it and I had no notion it was ours. She named him Martin, if that's all right with you.
'I guess we got our own family now,' July added. His heart was sinking so that his voice almost failed, for Ellie had not turned her head or given much more than a momentary sign of recognition. She hadn't spoken. He wanted to think it was just her weakness, but he knew it was more than that. She wasn't happy that he had found her. She didn't care about the baby-didn't even care that Joe was dead. Her face had not changed expression since the first look of surprise.
And all the while the large man with the holes in his shirt stood at the window silently, looking in. He was one of the buffalo hunters, July supposed. The doctor had spoken well of the man, mentioning how loyal he was to Elmira. But July didn't understand why he was standing there, and his heart was sinking because Ellie wouldn't look at him. He had come such a way, too. But she wouldn't, and he didn't think it was just because she was sick.
'We'll bring the baby in whenever you want it,' July said. 'I can rent a room till you're better. He's a strong baby. Clara says it won't hurt him a bit to come in. They've got a little wagon.'
Elmira waited. If she didn't talk, sooner or later he would leave.
His voice was shaky. He sat down in the chair the doctor usually sat in, by the bedside. After a moment he took one of her hands. Zwey was still looking in. July only held her hand for a moment. He dropped it and stood up.
'I'll check every few days, Ellie,' he said. 'The doctor can send for me if you need me.'
He paused. In the face of her silence, he didn't know what to say. She sat propped up against the pillow, silent-it was almost as if she were dead. It reminded him of times in Arkansas, times in the loft when he felt as if he were with someone who wasn't there. When he had found out she was alive and at the doctor's in Ogallala, he had gone off behind Clara's saddle shed and wept for an hour from relief. After all the worry and doubt, he had found her.
But now, in a minute, the relief was gone, and he was reminded of all her difficulties, how nothing he did pleased her, not even finding her in Ogallala. He didn't know what more to do or say. She had married him and carried his child, and yet she wouldn't turn her head to look at him.
Maybe it's too soon, he thought, as he stumbled, in a daze of pain and worry, out of the doctor's house. The big man was there watching.
'I'm much obliged for all the help you've given Ellie,' he said. 'I'll pay you back for any expense.'
Zwey said nothing, and July walked away to get his horse.
Ellie saw him ride past the window. She got up and watched him until he was out of sight. Zwey stood watching, too.
'Zwey,' Elmira said. 'Get the wagon. I want to go.'
Zwey was surprised. He had got used to her being in the bed in the doctor's house. He liked standing in the warm sun, watching her. She was so pretty in the bed.
'Ain't you sick?' he asked.
'No, get the wagon,' she said. 'I want to go today.'
'Go which way?' he asked.
'Go,' Elmira said. 'Go away from here. I don't care where. Over to St. Louis will do.'
'I don't know the way to St. Louis,' Zwey said.
'Oh, get the wagon, we'll find the way,' she said. 'There's a road, I guess.' She was out of patience with men. They were great ones for asking questions. Even Zwey asked them, and he could barely talk.
Zwey did as he was told. The doctor was gone, treating a farmer who had broken his hip. Elmira thought about leaving him a note, but didn't. The doctor was smart, he would figure out soon enough that she was gone. And before the sun set they left Ogallala, going east. Elmira rode in the wagon on a buffalo skin. Zwey drove. His horse was hitched to the rear of the wagon. She had asked him to take her, which made him proud. Luke had tried to confuse him, but now Luke was gone, and the man who came to see Elmira had been left behind. She had asked
The only troublesome thought he had was the result of something the man at the livery stable said. He had been a dried-up little fellow, smaller than Luke. He had asked which way they were going and Zwey pointed east-he knew St. Louis was east.
'You might as well leave your scalps, then,' the man said. 'Have 'em sent by mail, once you get there.'
'Why?' Zwey asked, puzzled. He had never heard of anyone sending a scalp in the mail.
'Because of the Sioux,' the man said.
'We never saw no Indians, the whole way from Texas,' Zwey remarked.
'You might not see the Sioux, either,' the man said. 'But they'll see you. You're a damn fool to take a woman east of here.'
Zwey mentioned it to Elmira while he was helping her into the wagon.
'There might be Indians that way,' he said.
'I don't care,' Elmira said. 'Let's go.'
Many nights on the trail from Texas she had lain awake, in terror of Indians. They saw none, but the fear stayed with her all the way to Nebraska. She had heard too many stories.
Now she didn't care. The sickness had changed her-that and the death of Dee. She had lost the fear. A few miles from town they stopped and camped. She lay awake in the wagon much of the night. Zwey slept on the ground, snoring, his rifle held tightly in his big hands. She wasn't sleepy, but she wasn't afraid, either. It was cloudy, and the plains were very dark. Anything could come out of the darkness-Indians, bandits, snakes. The doctor had claimed there were panthers. All she heard was the wind, rustling the grass. Her only worry was that July might follow. He had followed all the way from Texas-he might follow again. Maybe Zwey would kill him if he followed. It was peculiar that she disliked July so, but she did. If he didn't leave her alone she would have Zwey kill him.
Zwey woke early. The man at the livery stable had worried him. He had been in three Indian fights, but both times he had several men with him. Now it was just he who would have to do all the fighting, if it came to that. He wished Luke hadn't been so quick to rush off to Santa Fe. Luke didn't always behave right, but he was a good shot. The livery-stable man acted as if they were as good as dead. It was morning, and they weren't dead, but Zwey felt worried. He felt perhaps he had not explained things well to Ellie.
'It's them Ogallala Sioux,' he said, looking in the wagon at her. It was a warm morning, and she had thrown off the blankets. 'He said the Army had them all stirred up,' he added.
'I'll stir you up if you don't quit blabbing to me about Indians,' Elmira said. 'I told you yesterday. I want to get gone a good ways before July shows up in town again.'
Her eyes flashed when she spoke, as they had before she got sick. Ashamed to have angered her, Zwey began to stir the fire under the coffeepot.
81.
