It had been difficult to clean the hose, and the bottle, she remembered. Rolletta had still been using the bottle to drink her milk because she had become so attached to it, that Callie allowed her that small pleasure. Now, she wondered if that could have been the reason for Rolletta’s sickness. If the hose was not thoroughly clean, it could have carried something in it to make Rolletta end up dying. She knew that spoiled food could make one ill, and even die. She wondered if the milk that Rolletta had been drinking from it, had been contaminated by something inside the hose which had spoiled and then caused her niece to get sick and die.
If that had been the cause of Rolletta’s death, instead of some disease, at least no one else would end up succumbing to it, she thought with a slight feeling of relief. The thought pained her, though, because of the possibility, she may have contributed to Rolletta’s death by letting her use that bottle and hose for so long. She pushed the thoughts aside since there was no way of really knowing unless someone else got sick along the way. She hoped it wasn’t her fault that little Rolletta had ended up dying. She knew nothing about being a mother; she chided herself.
Callie looked out over the vast Texas grasslands which surrounded them. A slight breeze caused the grass to sway, as the large herd of cattle grazed upon it, along their trek, wrapping their tongues around the grass, to pull it free, since they merely had lower teeth, and could not nibble short grass like horses could. That was one reason the ranchers hated the wild herds of horses because they would sometimes eat the grass so low, the cattle could not grasp it with their tongues.
The sound of the bawling cattle was familiar to Callie's ears, but it had the disturbing effect of reminding her of Chet, and how much his ranch meant to him. Even though Callie never thought it looked like much, he had put his heart and soul into trying to build it up. She idly wondered if he actually had been putting money aside to build a big, beautiful house, like he had promised Rolletta he planned to do.
Connor wanted to remain on the ranch if they were ever able to return to it, and use the money to get more cattle, instead of traveling back to Carlisle, the way she longed to do. However, thinking about it now, she wondered what there was to return home to? Her parents would not be pleased with five little children running through their house, even if they were their grandchildren. They would have to set her up in her own house, and probably afterward, resent the need to support her. Subsequently, she would continue to be under her parent’s thumbs, with them telling her how to run her life, in the same way, they sent her out to Texas to marry Chet. Perhaps it would be a better choice to simply remain in Texas if she ever escaped the heathens.
Callie stopped herself from thinking of the Indians as heathens. They were not actually heathens, she corrected. They were just different, and their difference was so bizarre to her way of life, that she was having a hard time judging them fairly. Chayton had been kind to her. He helped her bring her child into the world. The braves had played and entertained the children in a way that Chet never attempted to do. Although they were taking her cattle and insisting, she went with them, no harm had befallen them. Still, she felt a great longing for things to be other than what they were.
When they camped, that evening, the routine was somewhat the same, except instead of hunting, the braves killed one of the smaller long-horns. They divided it in half and wrapped the half they would not be eating, in its hide, so they could use it in the future. They packed the hide on the back of one of the extra horses, which were part of Chet’s collection of horses. Callie watched listlessly, as the meat sizzled and cooked, causing the fire to flare up when the grease dripped into the flames. She worried that she was never going to be permitted to return to Chet’s ranch or any other place.
She occupied herself, feeding the babies, and once they were settled, she sat beside them, watching the braves and the children playing together, as they had become accustomed to doing. She realized, the children were getting more attention than they ever had, when they had been on the ranch.
However, Connor came to sit beside her, uninterested in the games, as he mourned the death of his little sister, whom he had taken upon himself to watch over when Callie was busy.
“You should name the new baby Rolletta, so she can take the place of my sister,” he suggested.
“Chayton calls her P’ee-shan,” Callie murmured. “It means little sister. He said she would be like a little sister to his son, but she is also a little sister to you, so I believe I will keep that name for her.”
“It’s an Indian name,” Connor said in outrage.
“Chayton helped bring her into this world, Connor. I believe I at least owe him the honor of naming her. I wouldn’t have known what to do if he hadn’t been there. I could have died, just like your mother.”
Connor hung his head, as he gave her a sideways glance.
“My mother didn’t die when she had Rolletta. She died a few days later,” he told her, his eyes darting from her to the ground and back again.
“I know. Your father told me she died later. She was unhappy, because she did not have a son like your father was hoping for, and just wasted away.”
“I think papa was more unhappy than she was. He yelled a lot about it. She died because she didn’t have a son. That is why I worried if you didn’t have a son, you too would die.”
Connor shrugged and changed the subject.
“I miss my mother, but you are a lot like her. I’m glad you came to become our new mother,” he told her, putting his arms around her neck.
Callie felt unworthy to have Connor’s praise. She had never wanted to become his mother, and she may have contributed to his little sister’s death. She patted him on the back, thankful for his show of love for her, even if she didn’t feel like she deserved it.
“What are we going to do?” Connor asked against her neck.
“We will have to go with the Indians, but I don’t think Chayton will let us leave, once we get to his village. I fear he wishes me to continue to take care of Tsahle-ee Jogul even after we reach his tribe. You may end up becoming a member of the tribe, yourself,” she admitted.
“We have to return to the ranch,” Connor insisted, his eyes narrowing. “Papa said it would belong to me someday, and I want to keep it.”
“We will have to wait and see what happens. Indians are fantastic trackers. If we try to escape, they would be able to track us down, if they wanted us back. Besides, they would know that we would return to the ranch, and they could come and force us to return with them.”
“We will find a way,” Connor stated firmly.
Callie could see a little of Chet in Connor, by the way he insisted on having his way, and his determination to achieve it. She wondered if it was a good or bad thing.
Chayton came to sit beside them, but when he did, Connor jumped up, joining the game with the others, as he looked over his shoulder at the two.
“He looks to be a fine boy,” Chayton said, as his eyes followed Connor, playing with the others.
“He wants to return to the ranch. He tells me there is money there, which Chet put aside. We could get more cattle with it, and do just fine,” Callie informed him. “Once Connor becomes older, the ranch would revert to him. It is all he has left, from his father.”
“You have no one to work the ranch, except for your children,” Chayton pointed out, starting to feel worried because all Callie talked about was wanting him to set her free.
“Chet had a hired hand, who came in to help from time to time. I could hire him on full-time if we could to return to the ranch.”
Chayton looked away. She could not read his thoughts, but because he had not answered, she was certain he did not like the idea of her and the children returning to the ranch, once there was someone to feed his son for him.
The thought of this woman with golden hair, and pleading ice blue eyes, which cut through him like a knife, ever leaving him, unsettled Chayton somehow. She had been the miracle he had prayed for
to save his son, but now he wished she looked forward to caring for his little brave and would feel content to remain for as long as his infant needed her. Only he had to admit; he was the one who needed her more than he wanted to acknowledge.
“The meat is cooked,” is all he said, as he rose to his feet and went over to where the braves were beginning to carve up the beef, with their sharp knives, and divide it among everyone.
They ate the food, and then all the braves took the children and went down to the river to bathe. Later, after it had gotten darker, Callie bathed as well, using the bushes that grew along the river shore to shelter her from view. Chayton couldn’t prevent himself from following her at a distance, and then watching her, beneath the full moon, from the shadow of a tree, where he wouldn’t be noticed.
He drank in her image with his eyes, lingering on every subtle curve of her body, which the soft glow of the moon touched, in the same way, he wished to touch her. Her upturned breasts that were the life-giving feature which saved his son, drew his eyes to them. Without her, his son would die. If he allowed her to leave, once they reached his village, he feared he would die inside. Something about her kept him alive inside, now that his one true love had been killed. It kept him from falling into a dark abyss, that threatened to swallow him up, until his glance fell upon the woman’s face.
Chayton’s thoughts went back to when he had helped her bring her child into the world. It forever played in his mind, when he least expected it. She had been frightened, and all he wanted to do was gather her into his arms and convince her, she was safe with him. Only he knew that it would merely frighten her more.
Now he watched, contentedly, as her graceful hands caressed herself in an attempt to get clean. She held a small cloth in her hand, which she used, and he felt mesmerized, watching the way she smoothed the cloth across her skin. He wished it was his hands smoothing over her, but he knew if he ever attempted such a thing, it would serve to disturb her and cause her to pull from him. He had only been near her for, three short days, and yet it felt like he had known her in some other life, he was trying to recall.
He thought about how he had held her to him, on his horse, being able to watch her as she nursed her new child, thinking of how she almost felt like an extension of himself, the way his wife would have been, if it had been her nursing their child, as he cradled her on his horse.
He was getting her too mixed up with Clenoa, he chided himself. She could never take the place of his wife, he reproached himself; yet as he watched her now, he wondered if she could?
Callie lifted her head, as though she was looking straight at him, but he was certain she could not see him in the shadow of the tree. Still, she turned her back to his view, and so he returned to the campfire.
As Callie bathed herself, she had a strange feeling that she was being watched. She wondered why it even bothered her, seeing as how she knew that Chayton had watched her bathe the day before. The thought of his eyes on her, caused a tremor to run through her, and she smoothed her hand down over her body, to still the trembling she felt inside. Was it out of fear, that she felt alerted, thinking Chayton may be watching her bathe? Only she realized she felt no fear of Chayton. He had held her and comforted her when she discovered Rolletta had died.
She thought she saw a movement beneath a tree, not far away, and then she noticed a glimmer, as the moon caught against the silver buttons on Chayton’s shirt. Callie lifted her head, as she continued to run the make-shift washing cloth over her skin. She felt no shame, at allowing Chayton to feast his eyes upon her. She could almost feel his eyes touching her skin, in the same way, the cloth was touching it. Her own boldness surprised her. She should feel ashamed of herself, she scolded; but she continued to bathe before him. Then she brought her gaze even with his, as he stood beneath the tree, and slowly turned her back to him. When she looked again, she could not make out his figure there any longer.
When Callie returned to the camp, the braves were all gathered around the fire, sharing stories among themselves of past raids, and wars they had with their enemies, and even the white man. Chayton was translating for the children’s benefit.
Callie sat at a distance, feeding the babies, as she listened to the stories, thinking about the kind of existence these men experienced, which was all entangled with their beliefs concerning their Gods, and what was expected of a brave, in order to gain honor. She watched, as the flames cast ever-moving shadows across the story teller’s faces, each young man taking a turn in relating a story to the group. They seemed happy, and contented, so far removed from what Callie was feeling.
Eventually, the fire died down, and the braves started laying their blankets upon the ground. A couple went out to keep an eye on the cattle, and Chayton came over and spread a blanket beside where Callie was sitting. He took each infant, to place between them, as he had done the night before. Both he and Callie settled down beneath their shared blanket.
Chayton reached over and touched Callie’s arm.
“Don’t go back to your husband’s ranch,” he mumbled. “I need you to care for Tsahle-ee Jogul. By the time we reach my village, he will have gotten used to you. It would be hard to pull him away from the only mother he knows.”
“I am not his mother, though, Chayton. Everyone seems to think I am this person who must sacrifice my own desires in order to take care of someone else’s children. I have my personal life to think about. I don’t want to become an Indian, raising a child who isn’t even related to me.”
Chayton’s spirits started to fall.
“Wouldn’t you miss him if you left?” he asked, his voice sounding almost gruff.
“Of course, I will. I miss Rolletta, whom I was forced to mother, and now I feel guilty about her death. I have become attached to my sister’s children. I can’t afford to become attached to yet another child, which is not my own. He will just have to get used to a new mother. After all, Rolletta had been fed by a wet nurse for several months before I ever came to take over, and she adjusted well enough.”
“We will speak of it later,” Chayton murmured. “I would worry for you, living on your ranch alone.”
“It is not your place to worry about me. Besides, I will not be alone, if Cooper comes to work for me.”
“Can you trust this Cooper person?”
Callie stopped to think about his question. She actually did not know Cooper very well. The only interaction she had with him was during meals when he stayed over to eat, but he seemed honest enough, and he had been working for Chet for several years. She vaguely remembered her sister mentioning something about a worker who came to help out at times, in the letter she had received from Rolletta, right after she had gotten married. She was pretty sure Cooper had been the helper her sister had written about in that letter.
“He and my husband were good friends,” she said at last. “I am sure he can be trusted to run things well, and help me out.”
“There is no reason to discuss it until we are able to find where my people have set up their village. I don’t know how long that will take, once we reach their old camp-sight.”
Chayton patted her arm but did not remove his hand, as he began softly caressing her shoulder. Just being able to touch her, gave him a certain pleasure. If he could only get her to trust him more, he was certain he could convince her to remain with him, as long as he needed her to feed his baby. Only he knew feeding his son, was a mere excuse, because even after that, he feared he wouldn’t want to let her go.
For some, unknown reason, Callie felt contented beneath the caresses of his hand. He seemed genuine in being concerned about Callie’s well-being and that strange bond that had started to grow, shortly after he delivered her child, continued to flourish. She thought about how he had watched her bathe, not realizing that Chayton was thinking about the same thing, as his hand gently caressed her shoulder.
Callie had not realized she had fallen asleep until she was abruptly awakened by Chayton the next morning, shakin
g her shoulder, where his hand still rested. Their eyes locked, both with a question behind their gaze. Chayton rose to his feet and walked away, breaking the connection their eyes had created.
Callie fed the babies, and their journey continued once again, somewhat like the day before. She and Chayton barely spoke to one another, but several times, he had looked longingly over at her.
Soon they were camping again, the braves cooking up the other half of the cow they had killed the day before. After eating, the braves bathed in the river, but Callie noticed Chayton did not join them. Later, she found her own place to bathe.
This time, Callie was definitely certain that Chayton was watching her bathe, not far from where she was.
“Why do you hide while you watch me?” she called out to him.
Chayton slowly emerged from his hiding place.
“I did not want to upset you,” he murmured.
“Yet you still wish to watch me bathe,” she accused. “You have seen me give birth to my child. It is not as though I fear you looking at me.”
Chayton came closer to where she stood waist-deep in the river.
“Seeing you give birth was the most sacred thing I have ever witnessed,” he breathed.
“But you knew exactly what to do,” she exclaimed.
“My wife had informed me what her mother had taught her about giving birth. The husband is not allowed to help his wife in childbirth unless there is an emergency. She explained it to me, in case an emergency arose.”
“You were very gentle,” Callie praised. “You seem to have a caring touch.”
“To touch your skin comforts me,” he admitted. “I don’t want you to fear me.”
Beyond the Heart Page 9