Boone's Lick Read Free

it before.
    â€œI’m hungry and my family’s hungry,” Ma went on. “Horse meat’s not as tasty as elk, but it will do. Whatever I owe you we can put toward the rent of the mules.”
    She started for the house, but the look on the sheriff’s face must have made her feel a little sorry for him, because she turned at the cabin door and looked back at him for a moment.
    â€œWe’ve got a little buttermilk to spare, Eddie, if you’d like some,” she said, as she opened the door.
    â€œI’ll take the buttermilk,” Sheriff Baldy said.
    He got off the dead horse and we all followed Ma through the door.

2
    G RANPA Crackenthorpe got up from his pallet when we all trooped in. I think he was hoping for a dipper of buttermilk, but he didn’t get one. There was only one dipperful left in the crock—while the sheriff was enjoying it Granpa began to get annoyed.
    â€œI’m the oldest—that was my buttermilk,” Granpa said. “I was planning to have it later, with my mush.”
    â€œHubert don’t like me—I’ve arrested him too often,” Sheriff Baldy remarked, wiping a little line of buttermilk off his upper lip.
    Granpa, who didn’t have much of a bladder left, had formed the awkward habit of pissing in public, if he happened to be in public when the need arose. Sometimes he made it into the saloon and peed inthe spittoons, but sometimes he didn’t make it that far, and those were the times when Sheriff Baldy had felt it best to arrest him.
    â€œHubert, we’ve got enough troubles in Boone’s Lick without having to tolerate public pissing,” the sheriff said. “If you’ve got a minute, Seth, I’ll explain why I took the mules.”
    â€œFine, but if it’s not too much to ask, we need to borrow one of them back for a few minutes,” Uncle Seth said. “Otherwise we’ll have to butcher that roan horse practically in Mary Margaret’s front room, which is sure to bring flies. If we could borrow a mule back for half an hour we could drag the carcass over to the butchering tree.”
    â€œThat’s fair—the boys just took them down to the livery stable,” the sheriff said. “If one of these young fellows can go fetch one, then when you’re done with your dragging I can ride the mule back to town.”
    â€œG.T., go,” Ma said, and G.T. went. Ma already had the whetstone out and was getting ready to sharpen a couple of butcher knives.
    â€œI’m the oldest but nobody’s listening to me,” Granpa Crackenthorpe said—a true statement. No one paid him the slightest mind.
    â€œIt’s that gang over at Stumptown—the Millers,” Sheriff Baldy said. “The war’s been over nearly fourteen months but you couldn’t tell it if you happen to wander over to Stumptown. The Millers are robbing every traveler they can catch, and killing quite a few of them.”
    â€œI don’t doubt it—Jake Miller’s as mean as apig, but what’s it got to do with our mules?” Uncle Seth inquired.
    â€œI’m going over there and clean out the Millers,” the sheriff said. “You know how poorly all the horseflesh is around here. The farmers all quit, because of the war. Mary Margaret just killed the only good horse in Boone’s Lick.”
    â€œI thought it was an elk,” Ma said firmly, as if that subject had been disposed of forever.
    The sheriff just sighed.
    â€œIf the Millers see somebody passing through on a decent horse they kill the rider and take the horse,” the sheriff said.
    Right there I saw the sheriff’s point—he was right about the poor horseflesh around Boone’s Lick. But Pa and Uncle Seth were in the hauling business—they couldn’t afford sickly mules. Uncle Seth went up to Ioway himself and brought back fodder for our mules. There hadn’t been much fighting in Ioway; the