is unsure. He does not care. The Mennonites have ceased to interest him. He is beginning to feel poorly again. These arrogant, grasping, pious pilgrims. Thieving, urchin Indians and their howling matrons. He could be in Dublin or Genoa. Rare, he thinks, to meet a German who won’t take a drink with you. Or share a sausage. Should not have watered the whiskey down. Get Rawson to crack another bottle once we are away from these crawthumpers.
“That fella done raised his hand and slapped that Injun kid. I seen it,” Rawson says.
“They’re not supposed to, but of course it happens, Rawson. It’s more in the way of being against warfare and fighting, I imagine. Against soldiers.” There is disdain in Kohn’s voice and he does nothing hide it.
Rawson says, “Well, did you tell them they wou’n’t have no goddamn sugar or a stitch of goddamn cloth between them without us soldiery comin’ up on them? Them Injuns was only kids and old folk and they done near cleaned ’em out without us, without Jonathan there. Did you tell them that? I have heard of ungracious—”
“Shut up, Rawson,” Molloy says. He turns to Kohn. “You tell him this, Kohn. Sir, I quite understand your position. I have no time for soldiery myself. Nonetheless, we will camp somewhat up the trail in case the Indians return. For this we would only beg a gallon of water for our pot. The river is brackish, we’re told, and not fit for man or beast for drinking.”
Kohn translates, adding some of his own sentiments to Molloy’s and the old man sends the younger off for water. “Get him a barrel, Rawson,” Kohn says, “and fill it up. Least the gentle sonsofbitches can do.”
Rawson dismounts, fetches a half-barrel from one of the mules and follows the man. Molloy and Kohn and Jonathan sit in silence, the old man no longer speaking to them, and wait for Rawson to return.
Kohn says, “It’s common among these kind, sir. Mennonites and Hutterites and the like. Happy to avail of the protections offered by the soldiery but too good to share a meal with them all the same. And abolitionists, every damn one of them, but not an ounce of blood shed for the cause of it. Shit on them, sir, and let’s be on our own goddamn way.”
“No way to treat your Dutchie kinsmen, Kohn,” Molloy says. He swigs from his canteen. Kohn has not told him that he suspects a further reason the old man will not share a meal with them is because he has recognized Kohn’s German for the Yiddish it really is. Jews as bad as soldiers to them. Peace-loving Mennonites have their hatreds too. Kohn spits into the dust between them and the old man. If the old man notices this, he does not react.
“Now now, Kohn.” Molloy spurs his mare and salutes the Mennonites. Rawson returns and stows the water barrel on the mule, climbing awkwardly onto his mount. The women and children, Molloy notes, are watching them from behind the wagons. He winks at one of the girls, who blushes under her bonnet and turns away.
A MILE DOWNRIVER they set up camp on a bluff above the North Platte banks and Jonathan takes the horses and mules away with him in a loose train to a watering spot he knows so they will not have to risk the brackish waters of this part of the river.
Kohn wonders is it wise to have the Indian away with all their mounts and the mule. They will be riding shank’s mare if the Pawnee sees their animals as more valuable than his wages. Vos Got tut, iz mistomeh gut. Yiddish in his head unbidden. Speaking with the Mennonites has awakened it. If God wills it, it is good. With the captain making such slow going, they’d be as fast walking to Fort Phil Kearny anyway.
“Will I raise the dog for you, sir?” They are carrying two tents with them on the mules. They have thus far only had to use them once.
Molloy sits with his back to a rock and is writing in a journal, drinking from a fresh bottle. “I don’t smell rain, do you?”
Kohn looks at the late afternoon sky. Clear, cold blue cut with high streaks of white cloud that remind him of Spanish moss. Which reminds him of Louisiana and Texas, which in turn strikes him as far and many years away from here. He wonders how the boys in the