Jeff Buckner meets Erma
Jeff sees two men riding towards him. As they come closer he sees they are Confederate soldiers and must have used binoculars to spot him. Jeff digs out his identity card and holds it so the sun is shining on it. One reads it.
The reader says, “Come with us.”
Jeff rides down to the wagons with them. Three of the wagons belong to the soldiers and the other to a non-military doctor administrating to an injured officer. The doctor’s back is turned as Jeff dismounts. Jeff sees the doctor is a slim man with an hourglass physique that makes his pants fit tight. He wears boots and a rolled up sleeve shirt and is busy bandaging the compound fractured arm of his patient. The bone has been set. The doctor turns to glance at Jeff. Jeff surprise shows. He isn’t a thin older man. She is a very good-looking woman about his age.
She doesn’t speak to him. She digs in a bag for several mescal buttons. They are the dried tops of spineless caucus that Indians chew for the narcotic effect. In her patient’s condition they’ll relieve some pain. She has her patient chew on three of them.
Jeff watches her crush the leaves of a wild-grown bush in a bowl. The leaves send cows crazy and have caused cowboys such merriment they fall off their horses. She stuffs a corncob pipe with the mashed leaves and grabs a burning stick from the campfire to light it. She puffs on it to get it going and keeps puffing until she is exhaling smoke. She shoves the pipe stem into her patient’s mouth and instructs him, “Smoke this. Takes the pain away.”
She looks at the sergeant that brought Jeff to their camp. She asks, “Who’s he?”
“Jefferson Buckner. His identity card says he’s a writer for the Chicago Informer.”
She looks at Jeff. “Walk away from the camp with me so we can talk. Take me a bit to settle down. Smoking that weed distorts reality. Ever use it?”
“I own a cattle ranch in Texas. I don’t allow its use. I also breed horses. You have the largest horse I’ve ever seen.”
“I lived a spell with a breeder. I traded him out of this one. He paid a bribe to get the first pair from Scotland. Said they’re called Clydesdales. I call mine Maggie. She’s gentle and powerful. Indians don’t try to steal her. They believe I’m a medicine woman and my horse carries invisible spirits.”
“You’ve traveled through the Indian Territory?”
“Nearly all. I’ve crossed Oklahoma several times.”
` “There are many renegades. You speak their language?”
“Iroquois, Apache and a some of others.”
“I’m told Indians respect doctors.”
“I’m not a doctor. But I know more about taking care of patients than most of them. That’s my wagon with supplies and medicines not found in stores. I travel around and treat people. Extract bullets, deliver babies, set broken limbs and treat constipation and diarrhea.”
Jeff said, “I could use a woman like you.”
“You could with my permission. I don’t know you well enough to give consent. I’m thirty. How old are you?”
Jeff smiled as he said, “Thirty-three.”
“You married?”
“No.”
“Every been? Like divorced or widowed?”
“No.”
“I won’t ask if yer queer. I can tell by the way you look at me. But you could be a virgin.”
Jeff laughed. “You ask personal questions and I don’t even know your name.”
“I’m Erma Crow.”
“Are you married?”
“No.”
“Are you a virgin?”
Erma Crow grinned. He was using the shock-you game on her. “Yep, been one for a month. Lived a few weeks with a preacher and he read some prayer aloud and said it restored my virginity.”
“That is a powerful prayer.”
Erma nods. “You said you own a cattle ranch in Texas. I was planning to go down there. What town are you near?”
“A small town called Buckner.”
“Buckner? Was it named after your ancestors?”
“No. After me. Town didn’t have a cross street when I started my ranch. I own slaves that have told me they want to stay on and work at my ranch if the North wins.”
“Its been going over two years. What the hell are you doing up here by yourself if you have a lot of men working for you.”
“I don’t trust hear-say. I like to move around and see what’s going on. I can muster many armed men if my ranch is attacked. A lot of them are black slaves hoping the South wins so their homes on my ranch aren’t disturbed.”
“Would you like company on your way to Texas?”
“If you won’t tell I’m not a Chicago writer.”
“And you don’t tell I’m not a doctor. My father was a doctor. I traveled with him and taught him the advantage of treating pain with nature’s narcotics instead of alcohol. Look at my patient. He doesn’t know he’s in pain. He’s trying to get up and party. Do you smoke tobacco? I have boxes of cigars I sell. Also plugs of chewing tobacco.”
“Beer and whisky are my vices.”
“How about women?”
“I’m a gentlemen that never tells.”
“We are alike. I never reveal a gentleman’s name. Let’s establish the ground rules to travel together. Number one is most important. Don’t fall in love with me. The protection of you and your gun is beneficial to me. I’ll save you hotel money as I have a big mattress in the wagon. Sleeps two comfortably and I’ll cook when there’s no café in sight. Anything you wish to ask or add?”
Jeff grinned. “You’ve covered it pretty well. Except you haven’t mentioned we might share a loaded corncob pipe. I’ll pass chewing the peyote.”
“I have cigars heavily laced with that sage weed for special occasions. Three things happen. Everything is funny, you’re hungry and you are vulnerable. I only smoke them with company when our privacy can be assured for the time it takes to sober. Tie your horse behind the wagon. Let’s go.”