Beatrice and the Beast, page 8
Beatrice pulled a face and visibly paled at Mooney’s revelation and when Zelletta poured her coffee, she refused to drink it for fear she would vomit.
‘What’s wrong with the coffee?’ He asked. ‘Do you want sugar in it, or milk?’
‘I don’t want it, I feel sick. Mister Mooney’s talk of rotting corpses and your obvious indifference and disrespect to the dead is making me feel quite ill.’
‘You’ll get over it. I’m gonna ask Mooney if we can bed down in his barn. If we get an early night, we can get an early start in the morning.’
She rolled her eyes.
‘Your monumental capacity for sympathy is terribly overwhelming Mister Zelletta.’
He shrugged none committedly. Women had always been a mystery per-se. But this girl with her fancy words was a complete enigma and if he was honest, he felt a little intimidated by her.
‘Well, I would probably agree with you,’ he growled. ‘If I knew what the hell you were talking about.’
He drained his mug and got to his feet before heading for the door.
‘Where are you going,’ she cried in alarm.
He didn’t change pace but answered as he approached the door.
‘I’m gonna catch them hosses. We might need the money we can make on ‘em.’
‘I don’t want any part of your ill-gotten gains. It sickens me that you could rob dead men who were unfortunate enough to be your own victims.’
He stopped and turned to face her.
‘Them ill-gotten gains as you call ‘em, will be the difference between you sleeping with your horse in a livery in Fort Worth or a fancy hotel in the better part of town. Your choice.’
Her mouth dropped open as she realised, he had spent money he’d very likely gained from killing, to buy the very clothes she now wore. Furthermore, when it came to it, would she be ready to abandon her principles and allow him to pay for a room in a good hotel whenever they came to a town?’ She certainly did not relish the thought of sleeping next to her horse in a livery barn.
Twenty minutes later, Zelletta returned to find Beatrice sitting in the same place, but with her head slumped onto her arms which were crossed on the table before her. He banged the door open with his boot, which startled her into full awareness and she quickly looked across at him.
‘You feeling better?’ He asked.
She nodded by way of reply.
‘I’ve got something that might cheer you up,’ he said.
She raised an eyebrow and wondered who else he’d killed on her behalf.
‘One of them fellers was riding on a Mexican saddle.’
She stared at him and wondered why his revelation about a saddle would cheer her up.
‘Oh really?’ she replied with as little enthusiasm as she could muster.
He regarded her blank face and smiled inwardly.
‘You don’t know what I’m talking about do you?’
‘To be perfectly honest, I have no interest in what type of saddles those men were riding. If I had my way, I would never set eyes on a saddle ever again.’
‘Well you gonna set eyes on this one. In fact, you’re gonna set your ass on this one ‘cos it’s what you gonna be sitting astride from here on in.’
She felt, the word he used to describe her backside was totally unnecessary, but his revelation, reminded her of how sore she had been and even now she was getting little mementos from her nether regions. She had hoped she wouldn’t have to think about riding again until the time came. But his talk about saddles had marred any chance she had of forgetting her painful ride if only for the time being.
‘Well unless it is padded with cushions,’ she said wryly. ‘I’m finding it difficult to raise any enthusiasm for a saddle, no matter what elaborate name you choose to give it.’
‘It ain’t padded with cushions, but it will be a lot more comfortable for you to ride on. It’s bigger than a western saddle and deeper so you should find it easier on your butt.’
She gave him a sharp look.
‘I would appreciate it if you didn’t keep referring to that particular part of my anatomy so coarsely Mister Zelletta, no matter how well-meaning you thought you were being.’
‘Anyhow,’ he continued. ‘It’ll save you having to ride with me.’
Strangely, a fleeting moment of disappointment came over her and she struggled to keep it from showing on her face.
‘Well that’s one consolation I suppose.’
‘Is there anything you need to do before we turn in?’ He asked. ‘If so, you’d better do it now while we still have a bit of daylight left.’
‘Turn in?’
‘Yeah, we gonna spread our bedrolls in Mooney’s barn and with any luck we should be on our way by sunup.’
‘Oh…Well I do need to relieve myself. Where is the…um?’
Privy’s out back. You’ll have to go around the building and past the pig’s enclosure, you’ll see it there.’
She blushed and hurried out of the door. When she returned, Zelletta was waiting with both bedrolls.
‘Come on,’ he said.
He turned and strode toward a high wooden building with a wide front door and Beatrice was left with no other option than to run after him in order to keep up. Inside the barn, most of the winter hay had gone leaving a fairly large space on the dirt floor with the surplus hay piled against the walls.
‘I’ll spread some hay for you to lay your bedroll on if you like,’ Frank offered. ‘It will make your bed a little softer than sleeping on the hard floor.’
‘Thank you Mister Zelletta.’
She felt incredibly nervous at the prospect of sleeping in close proximity to a man she barely knew. One who had a bad reputation and who, just a couple of hours earlier, had shot and killed two men.
He lay a thick bed of hay on the floor then spread her groundsheet on top and her blankets on top of that.
‘There you go,’ he said. ‘You should be comfortable enough there. But you’d be well advised to sleep fully clothed.’
She didn’t yet have enough trust in him to change into her night dress.
‘I intend to Mister Zelletta.’
He spread his bedroll a few feet away and pretty soon, she heard his steady breathing indicating he was already slumbering. She on the other hand, found sleep hard to come by despite feeling very weary. The events of the day played on her mind. Frank Zelletta had so coolly shot those men down and showed no remorse whatsoever for his actions. Yet he had shown a caring side by allowing her to share his horse in order to spare her any more pain.
NINE
Beatrice could not remember when she fell asleep, but she clearly did at some point, because she found herself being awakened without even realising, she had slept for a few hours, by Zelletta’s hand on her shoulder. She stared sleepily in the half-light for a few moments until she came to full awareness of her surroundings and who had woken her up.
‘Come on,’ he said unceremoniously. ‘Mooney’s missus is getting breakfast ready, then we need to be on our way.’
She climbed from beneath the blankets and stood before walking sleepily toward the door.
‘Hey!’ He called. ‘You ain’t packed your bedroll.’
She turned to regard him indignantly.
‘I’m sure you could do it far better than me. I’m not very good at those sorts of things.’
‘Then you’d better learn or leave it behind. We’ll be sleeping out in the open tonight and if you ain’t got a bedroll, you gonna be mighty cold and uncomfortable.’
‘Why can’t you do it for me? I’m not asking for the world and if I try, I won’t be able to do it appropriately enough to fit behind the saddle.’
‘I ain’t your servant missy. Now get your ass back here and pack up this goddamned bedroll.’
She stomped bad temperedly to where he stood and knelt beside the discarded blankets.
‘You are very uncouth with your preferred use of words Mister Zelletta,’ she snapped. ‘I find your swearing and choice of anatomical descriptions very off putting and would urge you to moderate your language in the presence of a lady.’
‘You don’t like it when you don’t get your own way do you Miss Mellowday?’
She ignored him.
‘What am I supposed to do with these?’ She said, angrily indicating her blankets.
He showed her how to fold the blankets into the canvas sheet and roll and tie it up with the rawhide thongs he’d removed when he spread her bed. Then she was made to carry it to her horse which he’d saddled earlier and lash it behind the pommel. As she put the bedroll in place, she noticed with some surprise, how much bigger and deeper the saddle was.
‘I’m surprised you saddled my horse,’ she grumbled. ‘I believed your way would be to make me do it myself.’
‘If you were bigger,’ he growled. ‘I would have done. But I doubt you could even lift that saddle let alone toss it on the horse’s back.’
‘Then thank heavens for my size,’ she replied sardonically.
‘Don’t worry,’ he said. ‘There’ll be plenty of chores for you to do on the trail. You won’t be idle all the time.’
Having her back to him, she pulled a face and animatedly, mimicked his words with her mouth, but made no sound.
‘Come on,’ he ordered. ‘Let’s get some breakfast, we’ve got a long ride ahead of us.’
‘That’s what I’m afraid of,’ she grumbled.
He ignored her protestations and strode away toward the trading post, leaving her with no option than to hurry after him. When she entered the building, Zelletta was already seated and had a pot of coffee and two mugs before him on the table. She sat opposite him and regarded his scarred face. His beard and moustache covered most of it and his hat, pulled down low, covered the rest. All the time she had been in his company, she had never seen him remove the black Stetson except for the time he ducked his head in the creek. But he quickly replaced it before she had a chance to study his features and she wondered facetiously, if it was an actual extension of his head. She giggled softly at her silly thought and he looked up sharply from where he’d been staring into his coffee mug.
‘What’s funny?’
His question threw her and her answer wasn’t what she meant to say.
‘Um…Nothing,’ she stammered. ‘It’s just that I had a silly thought. But it wasn’t about you – or your hat.’
‘My hat?’
‘Did I say your hat? I didn’t mean to say that.’
‘Then why did you?’
She felt her face heating up and couldn’t think of a suitable explanation.
‘I don’t know,’ she cried. ‘Stop interrogating me.’
He grunted and took a sip of his hot coffee.
‘Then stop saying things that don’t make any sense.’
Before she could reply, a stout middle-aged Indian woman approached the table with two plates laden with bacon, eggs and beans. She set them down before them and reached into a large pocket at the front of the dirty apron she wore, to produce two knives and two pieces of flatbread which she placed before them on the table before turning and walking away to the kitchen. Beatrice noticed her grubby hands and dirty fingernails and wondered about the state of the kitchen and utensils. She stared at her greasy tin plate and even greasier food. The fact that it wasn’t cold, was the only thing it had going for it, but that wouldn’t be for long. The bread looked stale and hard when Zelletta broke his piece in half and started scooping up beans with it.
‘I can’t eat this,’ she protested. ‘It is very unappetizing.’
‘How do you mean?’ He mumbled with his mouth full of food.
She leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially.
‘That woman had dirty hands and fingernails and these plates don’t look too clean neither.’
‘Don’t be so damned foolish and get it down yuh. You’ll be eating a lot worse than that before we get where we goin’ and some days you might be eating nothin’ a tall.’
He sliced his bacon and put a piece into his mouth before dipping his bread into the egg and taking a bite of it.
‘There ain’t nuthin’ wrong with this,’ he mumbled. ‘You’d better eat it ‘cos it’s all you gonna get before we camp for the night.’
‘There is nothing wrong with this,’ she corrected.
He looked up quizzically.
‘There you go then, there ain’t nothin’ wrong with it. Now eat it before it goes cold.’
She breathed a large exasperated sigh. She supposed she should try and eat at least some of the food if only to keep her strength up for the journey ahead. Especially as it was probably all she would eat before sundown.
After twenty minutes, she managed to eat half of what was on her plate and some of the bread which wasn’t as unappetizing as it looked. The coffee helped wash down the food and by the time they were prepared to leave, she felt reasonably satisfied and ready, if not particularly willing, to face the journey ahead.
TEN
By the time the sun was high in the sky, Zelletta and the girl had travelled around twenty-five miles in a little over three hours. By alternately, trotting and walking the horses, they had made fairly good time over terrain which was mostly flat prairie land. This meant their journey had been reasonably hazardless and the more comfortable saddle, meant Beatrice was able to have, if not an entirely painless ride, a much easier one. The size of the saddle gave her more room to change her position regularly and by doing so, she was able to ease aches and soreness in the parts of her anatomy that came in contact with the saddle.
Once they were ready to leave the trading post, Mooney had come out to wish them well.
‘I ain’t gonna ask what you did with the bodies,’ said Frank. ‘I just hope you did okay out of the deal.’
Mooney shrugged none committedly.
‘Yeah, I did okay.’
‘I changed the girl’s saddle for one of theirs,’ Zelletta continued. ‘You should be able to get a decent price for the two I left and like I said before, whatever’s in their saddlebags, is yourn.
‘That’s fine by me Frank, see you next time you pass this way.’
They shook hands and Zelletta turned to Beatrice.
‘You ready?’
Their conversation had sickened her. She found it very difficult to come to terms with the way they so casually spoke about how well they did out of robbing the dead. To her mind, it was entirely unnecessary and terribly uncivilised.
‘I need help to get on the horse,’ she said coldly.
Before she could register his swift action, he had once again, clasped his big hands around her slender waist and lifted her high above his head and because of the suddenness of the moment, she was taken completely by surprise and involuntarily, emitted a loud yelp as she was swept off her feet. He sat her on the saddle and adjusted the stirrups to fit her smaller size. Once she was settled, he took up the hackamores he had attached to the trapper’s horses and mounted the sorrel. He’d already attached the lead rope from the pack mule to Beatrice’s saddle so once he was mounted, he spurred his horse into action and led them away from the trading post.
Four hours later, Zelletta called a halt by a large rocky outcrop and after dismounting his horse, reached up to the exhausted girl and she gratefully, fell into his waiting arms. After carrying her to the relative shade of a large boulder, he gently, sat her down so she could rest her back against it. She promptly, stretched herself out on the ground so most of the pressure was on her back rather than her buttocks. Beatrice moaned gratefully as she stretched her aching limbs giving Zelletta cause to regard the resting girl with a certain amount of impatience.
‘I’ll allow you to rest a spell cos you ain’t yet used to riding long distances,’ he growled. ‘But in a few minutes, I want you to take care of your hoss and in future, when we rest up a spell or camp for the night, you gonna have to start taking care of your bronc first and helping with the chores before you rest, savvy?’
She groaned and laboriously, clambered to her feet before limping toward her horse.
‘What do you want me to do?’
‘I told you, you could rest up first, but seeing as you’re up, you can water the horse and give him some grain.’
‘How do I do that?’
‘Pour some water into your hat and let him drink from it. I’ve got a sack of grain in the supplies. If you give him a couple of handfuls it will help with his stamina, then you can do the same with the mule. When you’ve done that, ground rein your hoss and leave him and the mule to graze. Then you can set a spell but keep your eye on the animals and don’t let ‘em stray far.’
She wasn’t used to being given orders, especially from such an uncouth man. Even her own father requested her help or advice whenever he needed it. But never ordered her to do anything. She wondered sardonically, if she should tug on her forelock and bob her head in servitude to the big man.
‘Yes sir,’ she murmured under her breath.
While she watered the horse and mule, Zelletta unloaded the sack of grain and attended to the other horses and eventually, they were both able to sit by the rocks while the animals grazed on the ample prairie grass. She squirmed a little but eventually found a position that was relatively comfortable and tentatively nibbled on the piece of jerky he’d handed her and finding it wasn’t too bad, began to relish eating the dried beef. When she’d finished eating, she took a long drink from her canteen while he watched her intently.
‘There’ll be times when you’ll have to ration your water,’ he said. ‘It’s okay now ‘cos we’ll be camping by a creek tonight. But you gotta learn to drink small amounts of water often instead of drinking it all in one go.’
Here we go again, she thought. Telling me what I can and can’t do.
‘I suppose that that means I can’t wash my hands and face then,’ she said sarcastically. ‘It’s alright for the animals to have water, but not me.’
‘Damned right,’ he snapped. ‘A man always puts his hoss first. If anything happens to him, you’ll be afoot maybe hundreds of miles from nowhere and you missy, wouldn’t survive a single day without your goddamned horse.’
