Beyond the Heart

by Jeanie P Johnson

  Callie pulled her hair out of his fingers, thinking of how the Indians often scalped people.

  “He tells you that you have a beautiful soul,” Chayton informed her, as he approached.

  “How does he know anything about my soul?” Callie asked in wonder.

  “It is your hair he speaks of. We believe the soul dwells in our hair.”

  “That’s a strange belief,” Callie muttered, looking askance at the Indian sitting next to her.

  “This is my trusted friend, Chogan. It is the word for Black Bird. He watched over my son, while we searched for a cow. All people of my tribe are expected to help watch over all the children born into our tribe. They will help watch over your children as well since you are helping me.”

  Callie managed a smile at Chogan.

  “The children seem to trust your braves,” she muttered.

  “They will make sure no harm comes to them. You will not have to worry about their safety,” Chayton smiled. “Come, the food is ready to eat.”

  The braves gathered around the meat and began cutting pieces off with their knives, handing them to the children, and then taking a piece for themselves. Chayton cut a piece off for Callie and handed it to her.

  “Rolletta is too young to chew the meat, very well,” Callie pointed out.

  “Then you must chew it for her, and give her little bits,” Chayton instructed her.

  When the braves were through eating their fill, they all started laying their blankets down, which had been used as padding for their wooden saddle frames. It seemed an easy way to bring their bedding with them, Callie thought. Each brave took a child to sleep next to him, in order to keep the child warm.

  “I will lie beside you,” Chayton informed Callie. “We will keep the little ones between us to keep them warm and safe.”

  He spread a blanket out on the ground, placing the babies in the center, and motioned for Callie to lie down, as well. Chayton lowered himself on the other side of the babies, pulling another blanket over all of them.

  Callie could not sleep. She felt exhausted, having just given birth, and then ridden all this way shortly afterward, but her mind was working overtime, wondering what would become of her, once they reached Chayton’s village.

  “What tribe do you come from?” she asked softly.

  “We are Comanche. I am a brave warrior of our tribe. It is a great honor, and I am much respected. I am rich, with many horses. I gave many horses for my wife. Now I must find a new wife to raise my son and give me more children.”

  His saying that, reminded her of Chet, wanting her to raise his children and give him more boys.

  “I was expected to marry my sister’s husband, in order to raise her children and give Chet more children. I did not wish to marry him. Five children were not enough for him because four of them were girls, and he claimed he needed sons. He wanted many sons. He demanded I submit to him, for that very reason. I did not love him, but my parents gave me no other choice but to marry him. I hope you will be kind to your new wife, once you find her,” she murmured.

  “Was he not kind to you?” Chayton asked.

  “He merely wanted me as his wife so I could give him sons, as though he could actually dictate whether they were boys, or not. He wanted many sons, so they would work for him on his ranch. He was not cruel. He was simply strict and indifferent, demanding to have his way at all times. As long as I went along with his wishes, he treated me fairly.”

  She gave a little shudder as she thought of Chet and the life she had lived with him up until now, having a hard time believing that it was behind her, and yet the future still held no promises.

  “Our people do not bring more than five children into the world in one family. We wish to have children, but we must also keep our tribes small enough so it is easier to move from hunting ground to hunting ground. We can only control so many people at a time. Also, we do not wish to use up what Earth Mother has given us to survive on. I will be kind to my new wife. I will only choose a mate who can love me and wishes to give me more children.”

  Their conversation was interrupted by Chayton’s son crying, and he lifted the child up and placed it in Callie’s arms.

  “He needs to be fed,” Chayton murmured.

  Callie exposed her breast, so she could feed his child, and the small mouth latched onto her.

  “What do you call him?” she asked, as the baby nursed enthusiastically.

  “Tsahle-ee Jogul. It means Little Man. What do you call your daughter?” he asked in return.

  “I have not chosen a name yet,” she shrugged.

  “I shall call her P’ee-shan. It means little sister. She will be like a little sister to Tsahle-ee Jogul. And you will be like their mother. A Khaw khaw.”

  “I had never intended to be a mother, and then all of a sudden I became a mother to my sister’s children. I didn’t want a husband, yet now, I have a child with a husband I despised. Now you expect me to be a mother to your son until we reach your village.”

  “I can see that your sister’s children all love you. Especially the oldest boy, you call Connor. He seems very attached to you.”

  “He thought I was going to die like his mother died in childbirth when I had my own baby. He has been through a lot, losing his mother, and now his father.”

  “I am sorry we had to kill your husband. The Comanche, along with the Kiowa, have promised the white leaders not to raid the ranches along the great road, but your ranch was not on the great road. I was desperate to have milk for my son. I did not know you were having a child. Even if I had known, I am sure your husband would never have allowed you to come with us to assist feeding my son, since he refused to let us trade for a mere cow.”

  Callie thought about Chet, lying dead in the yard. No one had bothered to bury him, and it made her feel sad, because, at one point, Rolletta must have loved him. She tried to put it out of her memory.

  “After we get to your village, and you find someone else to feed your baby, will you let us free?” Callie asked hopefully.

  “Where would you go? There is no one to care for you on your ranch.”

  “I would go back to my family in Pennsylvania,” she insisted. “I told you that was where I wish to be.”

  Chayton didn’t say anything. The thought of allowing this intriguing woman to walk away from him was something he did not want to dwell on. He felt a need to have her near him, and he wasn’t ready to give up that need or think about giving it up in the future. Instead, he took his son from her arms and handed Callie her daughter.

  “The rest of my band should arrive tomorrow, and then we can travel on to my village if we can discover where they are camping now. If not, we will have to stay at the old camp, and I will send out one of my braves to search for the new village,” he told her, evading her question. “There is no way to know when there will be someone to take over feeding my child.”

  She was thinking he had no intentions of ever letting her, and Rolletta’s children go. If that was the case, she would have to discover a way to escape, she determined, once she knew someone was caring for Chayton’s son.

  When she finished feeding P’ee-shan, she placed her next to Tsahle-ee Jogul. She decided to use the name Chayton had given her daughter since she had not chosen a name for yet. Callie tried to close her eyes, making an effort to block everything from her mind. She wondered what would become of her.

  Callie thought about how her mother had said she would thank her for making her marry Chet. How wrong her mother had been, and now she was destined to become a temporary mother for a wild heathen’s baby.

  Eventually, she slept, and when she woke in the morning, she saw the braves and the children eating some of the left-over meat. Then the braves started playing games with the children, kicking around a leather pouch, and chasing after it.

  Callie saw that Rolletta was still sleeping. She fed both infants and then went to get the blanket Chayton had washed, to exchange it for the one he had rep
laced it with, so she could now wash it. She would have to get a new blanket for Chayton’s son as well, she thought, idly.

  When Callie brought the blanket back, she stopped to check on Rolletta, kneeling down beside her, but when she brushed her hand over the child’s forehead, she jerked it away and then started sobbing. She knew Rolletta was dead. She lay there, stiff and cold. She wondered if the meat she had given her the night before had caused her death or was it something else since she had seemed so tired for the last several days.

  Chayton came up behind Callie and knelt down beside her.

  “What troubles you?” he asked, as he touched her shaking shoulders.

  “She’s dead. Little Rolletta is dead!”

  Chayton could now see that the child lay lifeless beneath the Indian blanket. Instinctively, he folded Callie into his arms, and held her against his strong body, as she sobbed into his shoulder.

  “Come back to my blanket,” he murmured. “I will have one of my braves bury her.”

  Chayton knew that white people put their dead beneath the ground, and since there was nothing to be done for the child, it was best they buried her, and then took the blankets and washed them, in case she carried the white man’s sickness, and that had caused her to die.

  Chayton decided he would have to keep a close eye on whoever had slept beside the child, to make sure he did not get sick, as well.

  For now, he felt the need to comfort Callie, his On-thoe-gyah, as he thought of her. He rose to his feet, still holding her against him and led her to the blanket, where he lowered himself, with her in his arms, as the babies continued to sleep soundly beside them. While he tried to give Callie comfort, he realized he too was receiving comfort from his own loss, by holding Callie so protectively in his arms, the way he wished he could be holding his wife. He felt warm tears, slowly leaving his eyes, and realized it was the first time he had cried since his wife had been killed. Indians were taught not to cry, but the emotions, building within him, could not be denied.

  Eventually, he left her and went to take care of burying the child. Callie lay alone beside the babies, hoping that whatever caused Rolletta to die, would not cause the babies to die also. She had been holding Rolletta the day before and then held the babies to feed them in the night. She knew how easy it was for a sickness to spread if it was contagious. It could even spread through a whole Indian village since she had heard how they had no resistance to the white man’s illnesses. White children, as well, had died of measles, she thought, worriedly.

  The feel of Chayton’s arms, still seemed to surround her, as she lay forlornly beside the babies, now having more worries to disturb her peace of mind. She could not understand why she had felt so contented in the arms of a heathen Indian, who had captured her and Chet’s children. He should cause her to feel repelled, the same way Chet had repelled her the first day she showed up in Dodge. When Chayton, returned to her, she looked up at him with serious eyes.

  “I don’t know what made her sick,” she whispered. “We should wash everything, including our clothes, just in case,” she advised.

  She wished she had the round tub, so they could use hot water, and lye soap, but she hoped washing everything in the river would help. The only problem was that if they washed everything, they would have no clothes or blankets to wrap themselves in until everything dried. The weather was warm enough, and the Indians could probably wear their wet breech-cloths, but she didn’t like the idea of having to be exposed to all the men there, since she was the only woman, and it made her feel uncomfortable.

  “You may be right,” Chayton murmured. “I have heard of the white man’s sickness that takes many of our people’s lives. Are you sure washing everything is enough to keep the sickness away?”

  “It may not even be a sickness that is catching,” Callie hoped. “To be safe, it is best. I did not see any signs of a rash, which is usually the kind of sickness that is catching. Maybe she just had a weak constitution, and it had nothing to do with a disease. She acted more tired than sick. I don’t think she had a fever, but I really couldn’t tell. She hardly ever complained.”

  Callie couldn’t help but remember how Chet would always get upset whenever Rolletta so much as whimpered, and eventually Rolletta became more sullen and quiet.

  “At least she is with her mother now,” Callie half sobbed.

  “Go out in the river with your clothes on and wash them and yourself. When you finish, you can wrap yourself in the blanket you have brought for the baby since it is already washed. I will have the braves and children go out to the river and wash everything else, and hang it in the sun. Then they can play in the water until their clothes are dry,” Chayton suggested.

  Callie knew there was no other way. She did as Chayton suggested, and as she came out of the river, she saw all the others were dragging the blankets out into the river, leaving their clothes on to wash them as well, and then later removing them to hang them on tree branches with everything else.

  Chayton also helped, and Callie sat wrapped in her small blanket, watching them at their work, and afterward, at their play. The children thought it was just another game they were playing. She would have to tell them about their sister, once they came back after their clothes had dried.

  She had ripped one of the sleeves from her dress, to use as a washcloth to wash the babies, who were lying in the soft green grass beneath the tree, where Chayton had put them the day before. She prayed no one else got sick.

  By the time their clothes were dry, and everyone had come up out of the water to get dressed, Callie could see a cloud of dust, in the distance, and she assumed it was the rest of the Indians, bringing the cattle with them. She knew that Indians usually did not raise cattle, because they were nomads, always hunting the buffalo and other wildlife, but it was easy to capture the rancher’s cattle or horses, and then use the cattle for meat, until it was eaten up, so there would be no need to hunt for a spell.

  As the group got closer, she could see Chet’s cutting horses mingled with the cattle, and one still wore its saddle. It had been the horse Chet had been working before the Indians showed up, she realized.

  By the time they reached the camp, everyone had gotten dressed, and the Indians were folding up the blankets to put on their saddle frames again. Chayton came up to Callie and handed her, her dress.

  “Wrap up the little ones. We are going to be leaving soon,” he told her, tossing her another blanket for Tsahle-ee Jogul.

  She put her dress on, wrapped up the babies, and placed the makeshift cloth she had washed out and dried earlier, in her pocket for future use.

  “You will ride your husband’s horse,” Chayton informed her as he came up to her with a long sash looking piece of material. “I will make a sling for you to carry P’ee-shan against your chest. I will carry Tsahle-ee Jogul in the cradleboard on my back.”

  Chayton made the sling and placed it over Callie’s shoulder, and then he arranged her child in the sling for her. His hands remained resting on Callie’s shoulders, even after the infant was secure. There seemed to be pity in his eyes, along with something else, Callie couldn’t quite puzzle out.

  “Thank you,” she murmured softly, lifting her eyes to his.

  “I am sorry about your little girl dying,” he said, a little awkwardly.

  Then he abruptly turned, and went to gather up his son. As he was putting his son in the cradleboard, Callie walked over to where Rolletta had been buried. She knelt down, picking a few of the wildflowers Rolletta had been picking the day before she died. Then she began ripping the petals off, the way Rolletta had, and scattering them over the fresh mound.

  “I hope you find more flowers where you are now,” Callie whispered, as the tears began running down her cheeks. Chet had never appreciated having daughters, she thought. It was all about having boys to help work the ranch. He would have hated it if he had been there when she had her own daughter, Callie thought sadly.

  Callie felt Chayton’s hand
s being placed on her shoulders.

  “We must leave now,” he said softly. “Come, I will help you up on your horse,” he offered.

  She turned, almost colliding into his arms. He steadied her, holding her for one brief moment, before releasing her, and leading her to Chet’s horse, which had been named Blaze because of the white blaze running down its nose.

  Callie put her foot in the stirrup and pulled her skirt up so she could swing her leg over. She had only ridden side saddle, and this was a new experience for her. Connor was put on another one of Chet’s horses, which was the one that Connor usually rode. He was good on horseback because Chet had been training him to be a cowboy, just like himself. Ina could also ride, and she was put on the Indian pony, which had belonged to Chayton’s wife. Tommy and Beth rode up in front of the Indians who had taken care of them early on. Soon they were all ready to leave, and the group headed out.

  Callie knew yet another part of her life was ending, and a new adventure lay ahead. She wondered if she would ever set foot in Pennsylvania again. She thought of the can of money Connor had told her about. She wondered how much it held, or if Chet had really buried a can of money in the back yard? If he had, Connor was the only one who knew where it was located.

  If she actually managed to escape her captors, she would have to find her way back to the ranch, so she could retrieve the money, in order to get her and the children back to civilization again. She wondered if that would ever come about. The thought was the only thing that kept her optimistic. Somehow she would find a way out of this, she told herself, as the rocking motion of the horse began to sooth all her apprehensions concerning her future. Still, a forbidden thought kept causing her to glance over at Chayton, sitting on his horse with his shoulders held straight and proud.

  When he glanced back, her stomach gave an unexpected lurch. She was torn, as she remembered how comforting Chayton’s arms had felt when he had held her to him.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Now the group traveled at a leisurely pace, since the cattle were with them, and there didn’t seem to be any rush to find Chayton’s people since Callie was there to feed his baby. She glanced over at Bossy, the milk cow, which followed close behind her horse, apparently recognizing her or the horse. She thought about how Connor had milked the cow, in order to feed Rolletta using the rubber hose on the long narrow bottle, designed to feed young infants.