Caleb

by Christine Sterling

  “Thanks, boss,” Jimmy whispered.

  “Can you tell me what happened? Were you able to get to Pueblo?”

  “Yes. There is water just outside of town. I was on my way back when I saw a sight that would curl your stomach.”

  “What happened?”

  “There was a wagon train headed north. I even talked to the wagon master as I passed them.” Jimmy held his one good hand to his face and sobbed. “When I circled back, they were all dead.”

  “Dead?”

  Jimmy nodded from behind his arm. “There was blood everywhere. Wagons were burning.” He inhaled deeply. “I was looking for survivors. Saw a young boy hiding behind some rocks. Went to go grab him but was shot from behind. Jackal just took off running.”

  “Did you see who did this?”

  Jimmy shook his head. “No. I don’t know where the shot came from.”

  Caleb patted Jimmy on the uninjured shoulder. “You rest. I’ll talk to the men.”

  As Caleb moved towards the back of the wagon, Jimmy reached out and grabbed Caleb’s arm. “You have to find that boy.”

  “How far ahead were they?”

  “Just a few hours ride.”

  Caleb nodded to Doc and left the back of the wagon. When he got outside, he put his hands on his knees and took several deep breaths.

  “What did he say, boss?” Tot asked. Caleb stood and looked at the expectant faces of the men surrounding him.

  “I need a group of ten men. We are going to ride ahead. Jimmy said there was a wagon train that was ambushed. There might be survivors.”

  Several of the men shouted that they would follow Caleb. Caleb nodded and the men went to their horses.

  “I filled your canteen, Caleb,” Tot said. “I also stuffed a few biscuits into a handkerchief for you. You can eat those on your way up the trail.”

  “Thanks, Tot.” Caleb walked to the back of the second wagon where the ammunition and bedrolls were stored. He opened a wooden crate and stuffed several shells in his pocket. Flipping open his six-shooter, he gave it a spin before snapping it back in place. He holstered his gun and grabbed a box of bullets before heading to his horse. “Give another hour rest and then get on the move. Goodie can handle the men. We’ll meet up with you somewhere up the road.”

  “Sure thing, Caleb.”

  Caleb swung up on Blaze. As he was about to lead the horse to the other riders, Tot put a hand on Caleb’s leg.

  “What is it?” Caleb asked.

  “You be sure to be safe, boy. I don’t want to have to explain to Marmee why you didn’t come home. You don’t know what is out there.”

  Caleb nodded and led Blaze to the other riders. “Let’s go,” he shouted, and the horses began to gallop across the hot sand.

  It took about an hour at a full gallop to get to where Jimmy had mentioned. Caleb paused when he saw the charred remains of the wagon train. Jimmy was right. The sight was indescribable. One wagon was tilted on its side, the canvas cover and wooden bows crushed beneath the weight.

  At least four wagons were burned to nothing but piles of charred wood. Caleb could see the smoke coming off the remains. The area was scattered with bodies of men and women and horses. Even the livestock had been killed.

  Who would do such a thing?

  “What do you notice, boss?” Sawyer said riding up next to Caleb.

  “Everyone and everything has been killed.” Caleb wanted to retch. The scent of burning wood and flesh filled his lungs.

  “Did you hear that?” A cowboy named Bob asked.

  Caleb held up his leathered hand. “Shhhh!” He could hear the faint cry of a child. “Spread out,” he called. “See if there is anyone left alive.”

  The men dismounted, walking through, and examining the bodies. Caleb noticed none of the wagons had horses or oxen at the front. It was as if the animals magically unhooked themselves. Caleb looked around again. There were more wagons than there were animals to pull them.

  Something didn’t add up.

  Where were the rest of the animals?

  The wagon train was stopped in front of a large rock with a fissure in it. It wasn’t a place where anyone would stop and rest because the outcropping blocked visibility to the East. They probably didn’t even see the attackers coming.

  And the wagons weren’t in a circle. Which told him that they didn’t have time to fight whoever did this. The killers had the element of surprise on their hands.

  “Boss!” one of the hands called. “Found a man over here. Injured but alive.”

  “See if you can find out what happened.” Caleb climbed off Blaze and then moved closer to the rock formation.

  He heard a growl and then a dog lunged from the rock and jumped in front of Caleb. The dog snarled as it approached Caleb.

  He stepped back and the dog followed. Pulling out his six-shooter, he cocked the hammer. He didn’t want to hurt the beast, but he wasn’t going to be bitten either.

  As he took aim at the dog a small voice screamed “no,” and a young boy of no more than six or seven ran from the crevice and threw himself on top of the dog.

  Chapter 4

  Caleb released the hammer on his revolver and put it back in the holster tied around his leg. He looked at the small boy rocking the dog. He was covered in dirt from the trail and Caleb could see scratches on his hands and cheeks.

  The dog licked the boy on one cheek as if to clean him. The boy gripped the dog tighter and sobbed into the animal’s fur. Caleb moved closer to the boy and the dog turned its attention away from the boy and growled.

  “Looks like you have a good protector there, son,” Caleb said softly.

  He held out his hand for the dog to sniff it. The dog reached out its neck but didn’t step forward or stop growling. He remembered he still had part of lunch from Tot in his pouch. He reached into his carry bag and broke off a piece of the crumbly sourdough biscuit.

  “You hungry, pup?” Caleb asked, holding the biscuit out cautiously towards the dog. The dog sniffed and snapped at the biscuit. Caleb managed to pull his fingers back in time so he wouldn’t lose one.

  Caleb looked at the boy once more. He’d have to let the rest of the cowboys know that he found another survivor from the attack.

  “You alright, boy?” Caleb asked. He hadn’t been around many young children, so he felt a little awkward approaching the boy. “Where’s your ma?” The boy sobbed harder. “Can you tell me what happened?”

  The young boy turned and looked at Caleb. His round face was covered in salt-stained streaks running through the dust. There was something familiar about him, but Caleb couldn’t remember. Perhaps he was one of the many boys hanging around the pens back in San Angelo.

  He heard of a small wagon train that had headed north while he was in town. Gossip never traveled faster than when it went from cowboy to cowboy. This must have been that wagon train.

  “Ma’s dead. They are all dead.”

  “I’m sorry, son.” Caleb sat on the ground, his legs crossed underneath him. He lifted his canteen over his shoulder and uncapped it, handing it to the small boy. The boy took the canteen and took a long drink from it. “How did you manage to escape? And your pup, here?” Caleb pointed to the dog laying on the ground close to the boy.

  The boy handed the canteen back to Caleb. Caleb could feel that it was nearly empty again. He capped the canteen and put the leather strap over his shoulder once more. The boy wiped his eyes, revealing a pair of dark brown orbs framed with even darker lashes.

  “Some men stopped the wagon train.”

  “Were they on horses?” The boy nodded. “were they Indians?”

  The boy shook his head. “They was white men.”

  “Then what happened?”

  “They were arguing with Mr. Dixon something fierce. Then… then…” The boy stopped for a moment, taking in deep gulps of air. “Then the man shot him.” The boy wiped his nose on the back of his sleeve. “He just shot him for no reason at all.”

&nbs
p; Caleb tried to keep his emotions in check. He bit the inside of his cheek and flexed his hand several times. “Then what happened?”

  “Ma told me to run. To hide in the crevice and not come out until she came to get me.”

  “Your ma is very smart.”

  “Scout came with me.”

  “Scout?”

  “That’s my dog. Scout,” he said, rubbing the back of the dog’s head.

  Recognition of where he knew the boy filled Caleb’s brain. “You are the boy from the livery. That is where you got the dog, isn’t it?”

  The boy nodded. “How did you know?”

  “I got the rest of the puppies. Your name is…”

  “Hart. Hart Whitcomb.”

  “That’s right. Well, Hart. I’m Caleb. I am taking my cattle back to Nebraska. I don’t know where you were going, but you can ride with us. How about we go find your ma.”

  “She’s dead.”

  “I know, son. But we should give her a proper burial then.”

  “Can Scout come with me?”

  “Of course, Scout can come.”

  “Those men shot the rest of the dogs.”

  “What else did they do?”

  “They took all the horses. Some of the oxen they let go. Then the men found Mr. Dixon’s crate with the jars in it.”

  “Jars?”

  “Ma told me that it made men do bad things. That I should never drink the water in those jars.”

  Caleb nodded. It must have been corn liquor in the jars.

  “What happened to all these oxen,” he asked, pointing to the oxen scattered around the wagons.

  “Then the men started shooting at them. Then they piled everything they could into a couple of wagons and rode off with them.”

  That explained why there weren’t any horses or enough animals around.

  “Bob!” Caleb called.

  A cowboy broke away from a cluster of men on horseback and rode over. “Yeah, boss?”

  “There’s at least two wagons missing. I want you and Ranger to ride ahead and find out where they are headed. Don’t get too close. It must be outlaws. I just want to know the general direction. They are probably headed for water or a town. There ain’t too many places to hide out here.”

  “You going after them or avoiding them?”

  “Maybe both. Now get going.”

  “Yes, sir. Ranger!” he called and then the men rode off in the direction of the wagon tracks.

  Caleb patted the boy on the shoulder. “Come on, son, let’s find your ma and bury her.”

  Hart sniffed and nodded. Caleb stood and offered Hart his hand. The young boy slipped his small hand into Caleb’s and walked beside him into the carnage that was spread out over the sand. He walked over to Mitchell. “Any more survivors?”

  “Three in total. Two men and a woman. I don’t know if one of the men is going to live, he was shot in the side. Pulled his dead wife on top of him.”

  “What about the woman?”

  “A bit older. Graying hair.”

  Caleb sighed. “Alright.” That didn’t sound like Hart’s mother. “Gather up as many as you can find. We need to bury these people before we head back.”

  “Sure thing, boss.”

  Caleb looked at the boy. There was a wagon on its side with broken boards. It would offer a bit of protection from the summer heat. Caleb steered Hart over to the shade of the wagon. “I want you to stay here. We’ll take care of everything. Which was your wagon?”

  Hart pointed to a wagon that was completely overturned. It appeared that the attackers attempted to set the bottom of the wagon on fire, but it didn’t take.

  “Mister?”

  “Call me Caleb.”

  “Caleb. Can I get some more water? And something to eat? I’ve not eaten in nearly a day.”

  “Yeah.” He handed the boy his canteen and dug in his pouch for some pemmican wrapped in cloth. He pulled out the chunk of dried beef mixed with tallow and berries and handed it to Hart, along with one of the biscuits. “Don’t eat too fast and go easy on the water. I don’t want you getting sick.”

  “I won’t.” Hart took the biscuit and the pemmican, nibbling on the edge of the hard treat. He grimaced. “That tastes terrible.”

  Caleb laughed. “It may, but it keeps forever, and it will fill you up.” He left Hart in the shade and returned to the somber task of helping to bury the men, women, and children.

  The sun was high in the sky when Caleb heard a wagon approaching. Several of the men were digging graves and the others were moving bodies in a line to be buried. Caleb lost count at sixteen. There were about twelve left waiting to be buried.

  The sound of the wagon brought him out of his thoughts. It must be close to two o’clock. They had been working for just over an hour. It seemed so much longer, though.

  “Dear Lord, what happened?” Tot said, bringing the wagon to a stop next to Caleb.

  “They were ambushed. Most likely bandits or thieves.”

  “Any survivors?”

  “A few. We’ll use the supply wagon.” The medical wagon was still riding pace with the herd; however, Doc had ridden with Tot just in case he was needed. Caleb was grateful Doc thought ahead.

  Caleb informed Hank what was happening, and he signaled to his two boys to start moving supplies between the wagons. They needed to make room so the injured could be taken care of and transported. Caleb went and got Hart, taking him to Tot’s wagon.

  “What do we have here?” Tot asked, looking at the boy.

  “This is Hart. He was one of the survivors. And this is Scout, his dog.”

  “Tot is going to let you ride with him.”

  Hart cried and wrapped his arms around Caleb’s legs. “I don’t want to leave you.”

  “It’s alright. You are safe with Tot. He won’t let anything happen to you.”

  “Darn right, I won’t. I got old Nettie right here to make sure nothing happens.” Tot picked up a dusty rifle from underneath his feet.

  Caleb lifted Hart onto the wagon bench. The boy patted the seat and called to his dog. Scout jumped up in the wagon and stuck her head in the wooden box carrying the puppies. She must have realized the puppies were hers, as Caleb could see her grooming them. “Might as well leave the mules behind; and I need to refill my canteen.”

  Tot hopped down and went to remove the ladle so Caleb could fill his canteen. As Tot filled the canteen with the warm water, Caleb watched as Doc was already treating the survivors.

  “You got an idea of what happened?” Tot kept his voice low so Hart wouldn’t overhear them.

  “Think it was horse thieves. They took all the horses; shot the ones they didn’t want. The boy said he saw his ma get murdered.”

  Tot winced. “No boy should ever see that.”

  “I sent Bob and Ranger to find out where they went.”

  “You looking for trouble, boy?” Tot asked, handing Caleb his canteen.

  “Nope. Just want to avoid it. I doubt they will head to Pueblo. Too many people. I just want to make sure before we go there.”

  “That’s not a good town, Caleb. What would Marmee think?”

  “Marmee’s not here. Neither is Pa.” Caleb scuffed his boot in the dirt. “We’ll only get water and supplies and get out. We can drop the survivors off there.”

  “What you want the mules for? You thinking of trying to save one of the wagons?” Tot asked.

  “We have extra people. We’re going to need an extra wagon. I’ll stay behind and see what we can find. If there is anything worth saving.”

  “I do need an extra lantern hanger if you find one.”

  Caleb nodded. They walked back to the front of the wagon. “I’ll see you soon,” Caleb told Hart. He waved as the chuckwagon moved out. As the last wagon passed, Caleb signaled for it to stop so he could take the two mules tied to the back.

  The mules were rotated throughout the cattle drive. It gave the oxen a break from pulling; and mules were efficient as the wagons w
ere lighter further into the journey.

  Caleb waved as Tot continued forward, moving around the dead oxen.

  “What do you need now, boss?” Doc asked.

  “Your patients alright?”

  Caleb tied the mules to one of the partially burned wagons.

  “As alright as they can be right now. They have water and I’ve wrapped their wounds. I’ll check them again when we get further up the trail.”

  “I’m going to need about three or four more men to help us get these folks buried. Can you see how many Goodie can spare?”

  “Sure thing, boss.” Doc mounted his horse and turned back towards the herd.

  The sun was high in the sky when the cowboys finally arrived. Caleb didn’t know how long they had been digging, but his back felt scorched beneath his leather vest. He could see the cattle making their way slowly across the landscape.

  “What time is it?” Caleb asked as Goodie rode up. He pulled a pocket watch from his vest. “Not quite four o’clock.”

  Nearly five hours since they stopped for the midday meal. Caleb was exhausted. He wondered where Bob and Ranger were.

  “We have about six left to bury. I know the men would appreciate a bit of a break.” Caleb stood. He heard his back crack as he dropped the shovel into the dirt. “These men and women need a proper burial.”

  “It ain’t your place to do this, boss.”

  Caleb looked at Goodie. “What would I say to Marmee if we didn’t? These people have families. Loved ones. I’m not going to leave them here for the coyotes and vultures.”

  Goodie nodded. “Okay men,” he called to the cowboys that were still on horseback. “Let’s get the rest of these people buried.” Goodie slid from his horse and picked up the shovel Caleb dropped in the sand. “You go take a rest, boss. I got this.”

  Caleb nodded and slapped Goodie on the shoulder. The stench of death and charred wood filled his nostrils. He took a swig of water and swished it around in his mouth before spitting it in the sand. That alleviated some of the dryness, but the scent still lingered.

  Caleb went to the side of the rock jutting from the earth. There was at least a bit of shade there. When he was in times of trouble, Marmee always taught him to take his troubles to God. Unfortunately, he hadn’t done that since the day his brother was murdered. He blamed God for that, even though the murderer was caught and subsequently hung. Caleb should have been there to protect Michael, and Caleb was still angry about losing his brother and best friend.