Caleb

by Christine Sterling

  He moved just out of sight of his men. Making sure there were no scorpions or desert rattlers, Caleb dropped to his knees in the hot soil. Looking up at the sky he began to pray in earnest.

  He prayed for safety for his men and now these strangers, that would be traveling with them. He prayed that the men who did this would be punished. He prayed for Hart and his pup who had lost his Ma, and he prayed for guidance to remain strong through the hardships he knew were still coming on the trail.

  When he was done, he whispered amen. He was about to stand up when an incredible urge to ask filled him. He went back into a kneeling position. “Lord,” he whispered. “Please tell me my next steps.”

  Caleb listened. He didn’t hear anything, so he stood and headed back to the men. As he rounded the rock, he thought he heard someone call his name. He turned, but there was no one there.

  Shaking his head, he heard the voice again.

  Caleb. Check the wagons.

  He had been in the heat too long.

  It didn’t take long for the last of the people to be buried. There was a total of eighteen.

  “I think we buried them all,” Sawyer said, wiping the sweat from his brow.

  “Let's see what is left and see if there is anything that we can use on the journey.”

  Caleb worked with the cowboys to gather up supplies the thieves had left behind. Three men flipped the wagon over that was on its side. Several of the wagon bows were snapped, but they could use the bonnet cloth to just cover the contents.

  As they explored, the words kept running through Caleb’s mind. Check the wagons.

  They were checking the wagons. What more did God want?

  They found a trunk filled with clothes, that looked to be the right size for a seven-year-old boy. Caleb told them to put it in the wagon in case it belonged to Hart.

  They ignored most of the cookware, and personal items but found a barrel of coffee that was still sealed and a wooden box of ammunition. Caleb found what Tot requested. The iron tripod with a chain in the middle would allow him to hang a second oven over the fire.

  One man even found a crate of jars filled with a clear liquid. Caleb was surprised that the thieves had left those behind. They put the crates in the back of the wagon and continued to look.

  Caleb was on the far side of the scattered wagons when he heard one of the men yell to him. Caleb was tired, thirsty, hungry since he hadn’t eaten all day, and he could feel his patience wearing thin. He was ready to catch up with the chuckwagon and take a rest for the night.

  The herd continued past and the medical wagon stopped close to where the men were working.

  “We found someone!” Sawyer yelled.

  “Where?” Caleb asked, running towards him.

  “Under this wagon. I can hear someone crying.”

  It was the wagon that was completely overturned and had the scorching on top where the thieves tried to set it on fire.

  The edges of the wagon had been covered by sand, so Caleb took his shovel and started clearing the edges. “Help me,” he called to his men. Several of the cowboys started scraping their shovels around the edge of the wagon. When the edges were cleared the men stood in line and used the shovels as leverage to lift the wagon slightly.

  Caleb looked around. The empty crates. He ran and grabbed one, sliding it under the wagon edge.

  “Help me!” a voice called from the darkness. It was a woman.

  “Hold on!” Sawyer called.

  Caleb put another box at the further corner.

  “Okay,” he called, getting in line with the men. “Lift!”

  The five men grunted, but they were able to flip the wagon over, revealing a woman curled up in a ball. She was holding her Bible and crying.

  “We got you, ma’am,” Sawyer said, moving closer to her.

  Caleb looked over Sawyer’s shoulder at the woman. Her face was covered in dirt, but Caleb could see the mark where she had been hit in the face with a rifle butt. The impact mark covered her forehead, over her eye, and onto her cheek. It was incredible that she hadn’t been killed instantly. Perhaps the thieves thought she was dead.

  Her eye was swollen shut and her lip was bleeding. Her hair appeared darker, but that was probably from the dirt and blood caking it. Fury filled Caleb’s veins and he felt the blood pounding in his forehead.

  Where were Bob and Ranger? Caleb wanted to go after these men for trying to burn a woman alive.

  “Give her water,” he said. One of the men handed Sawyer a canteen. Sawyer moved around and lifted the woman’s head to let the water flow into her mouth. Caleb whipped off his bandana and handed it to Sawyer.

  “Find Doc!” one of the cowboys shouted.

  Sawyer wet the bandana and used it to start removing the dirt from the woman’s face. She whimpered as Sawyer touched her tender skin.

  As Sawyer cleaned off the dirt and blood the bruising was more pronounced. You could smell the fear rolling off her as the woman looked through blood-filled eyes at the men crowding around her.

  “Move back,” Sawyer barked. “Give her some air.”

  Caleb gasped. He recognized the woman; but it was Sawyer that identified her by name. “Mrs. Whitcomb!”

  Chapter 5

  Caleb groaned and rolled out from underneath the wagon, careful not to disturb the puppies that were sleeping on his bedroll. Three of them settled down with him and the other ones, he assumed, were with Hart. The boy couldn’t keep his hands off the wriggly pups.

  He stood and leaned back as far as he could until he heard his back crack. He understood how his brothers felt sleeping on the ground. He recalled Oliver moaning when they were on a roundup for horses.

  Granted his older brothers were thirty-two, but Caleb thought they had just become old men.

  Now, at twenty-nine, he was wondering if he was becoming one as well. Every bone in his body was aching. It was still dark out, but Caleb could see Tot’s campfire burning and the smell of steak from the previous night, smothered in gravy and warming in a Dutch oven.

  He stretched and took off his boots, shaking them out before putting them back on. He wouldn’t sleep with his boots off as scorpions, spiders and even snakes were a real threat. However, he did shake out the sand in the morning and usually twice during the day. How it got under his pants and in his boots, he still hadn’t figured out.

  When he was done with shaking out his boots, he grabbed the shirt he had hanging on a hook outside the wagon. There wasn’t any moisture during the day, but at night something magical happened. Many of the cowboys would hang a shirt on a pole Tot kept in his wagon, or lay it over their saddle, or even drape it over a clothesline connecting wagon to wagon.

  In the morning, the cloth would be filled with morning dew. Enough to fill a coffee mug. Most of the men would wring the shirt directly into their mouths.

  Caleb squeezed his shirt over a washbasin. He was tired and dirty, and he was convinced that Marmee could smell him all the way from Nebraska. She taught him cleanliness is next to Godliness. He wondered if there were cowboys up in Heaven.

  Right now, he wasn’t feeling exceptionally clean, or close to God. He couldn’t understand why God would create a landscape that was all sand, felt like a hundred degrees in the shade, and filled it with poisonous creatures. He preferred the lush prairies, bluffs, and aquifers that covered Nebraska.

  Caleb had been tracking how far the cattle drive had traveled on his map. They were making about fifteen miles a day. When it rained lightly, they made twenty because the air was cooler, but it was still slow going. He couldn’t wait to reach Pueblo and take a hot bath.

  Sometimes the wagons would stop by a creek and the men could clean up, but there wasn’t anything between wherever they were now and Pueblo on the map.

  Tot came over and put a cup of coffee on the back of the wagon.

  “Heard you get up, boy,” he said.

  Caleb grinned. Even though all the Chapmans were grown men and women, Tot still refer
red to them as boy or girl.

  “Hard to sleep when you got a bunch of pups stretching out in the night.”

  “Try sleeping with pups and a small boy.” Hart was sleeping in Tot’s wagon with the rest of the pups. He hadn’t said much since his mother was found. “Makes me wish I brought a hammock. I’d stretch that from one wagon to the next. Might even get a good night’s sleep.”

  Caleb finished wringing as much water as he could from the shirt and then he hung it back on the hook. It was nearly dry. Once he washed, he’d wear the shirt.

  “We doing laundry anytime soon?” he asked, stripping his shirt off.

  “When we get to town. Not enough water until then.”

  It had been nearly a week since they came across the wagon train. They should reach Pueblo within two days.

  Of the five survivors, one died from his gunshot wounds. They buried him along the trail, using the wood from one of the crates to make a cross.

  Caleb decided to drop off the injured man and woman in Pueblo. Both would have a long road to recovery. He couldn’t allow them to slow down getting the cattle to Nebraska.

  Then there was Mrs. Whitcomb and her son.

  He hadn’t made his mind up yet on what to do with them.

  Bob and Ranger came back and reported that the thieves were moving east, as though they were headed to Kansas City. If they weren’t anywhere near where Caleb was taking his cattle, that was fine by him.

  He’d report what happened to the law in Pueblo and then let them deal with it. His days of chasing cattle thieves were over.

  His last encounter with a thief was after Duke Richards managed to steal a hundred head from the Chapman Ranch. The Chapman brothers went after him, but it was Michael and Marianne who found Duke in a saloon in Denver, Colorado. Caleb was supposed to go with them, but he had to stay behind as it was calving season. Their pa couldn’t have that many of his boys gone at once.

  Now Michael was dead, and Marianne was doing whatever Marianne did. Even Penelope had moved away.

  After washing in the tepid water, Caleb put on the damp shirt and grabbed his coffee cup. He’d wait for a bit before he buttoned it up. He hated the feel of the damp fabric against his skin.

  He walked over to where Tot was stirring potatoes in a large pan with three legs that could sit over the coals.

  “We doing laundry anytime soon?”

  “You already asked me,” Tot said. “How long we planning on resting in Pueblo?”

  “I’d prefer not to stay long. I don’t want to give anyone ideas about the horses and cattle we have.”

  Pueblo had just opened its first railway and there were cattle being shipped out all over from the small town. Someone could easily put a few head on a train, and no one would be the wiser.

  It wasn’t as if Caleb counted the three thousand head every day.

  “The boys need a break.”

  Caleb nodded. “I figured two nights at the most. Give the boys a chance to rest up. Give you a chance to rest as well.”

  “No rest for the weary. Isn’t that what your Ma is always saying?”

  Caleb took a sip of the bitter coffee and knelt next to the chuckwagon. “Marmee says a lot of things.”

  “Wise woman, your ma.”

  Caleb noticed Hart and the puppies asleep under the wagon. Hart’s stocking foot peeked out from underneath a blanket. “Thought you said they were sleeping in the wagon?”

  Tot shrugged. “The boy had a bad dream last night. Woke hisself up. I heard him crying that he didn’t want to sleep alone. I was fixing the fire, so he came out and brought the pups down. He’s been asleep there for a few hours.”

  “Those pups sure have grown.”

  Tot nodded. “I think they are big enough to run behind the wagons now. I know I’d sure be happy to get them out of the wagon.”

  “I’ll have Slim start working with them. He’s one of the best dog trainers we have.”

  “It will make him happy to get off wrangling, I’m sure.”

  “If you need me to find somewhere else for Hart to sleep, you let me know. I can’t have you too tired to be able to cook.”

  Tot chuckled. “I’d be that way even if there weren’t a wiggly youngster in the wagon.”

  “Perhaps he can go sleep with his Ma and Mrs. Miller,” Caleb thought.

  “Morning,” a voice said softly in the darkness. Caleb turned to see a silhouette walking towards them. As he came closer, Caleb recognized Doc.

  The cowboys were starting to awaken. Caleb could see the outlines of the men on horses as the sun began to rise. The men worked in two-hour shifts. Four men would ride on horseback around the herd protecting them from predators.

  Sometimes the cowboys would sing, and the soft voice of their song would join in with the lowing from the herd and lull the rest of the men to sleep.

  Doc walked to the fire and picked up the coffee pot. He poured a cup and then joined Caleb next to the wagon.

  “How’re the patients?” Caleb asked.

  “Mr. Robert’s fever broke last night. I think he’ll be fine. Mrs. Miller just stares at the side of the wagon.”

  “What about Jimmy?”

  “He’ll be fine. He was going to talk to you about scouting again.”

  “No. I want him to be seen by the doc in town. Then if the doc says alright, I’ll still say no.”

  Doc gave a little laugh. “Thanks for your faith in me,” he said, sipping his coffee.

  “You ready to eat?” Tot asked. “Those boys are going to be up here soon.”

  Doc held out his plate. “I’m always ready to eat.”

  “I’ll fix three plates for your patients, Doc.”

  “Appreciate that. I’m letting them sleep as much as possible.”

  Tot speared a piece of beefsteak and plopped it on Doc’s plate. “Gravy?”

  “Yes. Taters, too.” A spoonful of potatoes was dropped next to the steak, along with a biscuit.

  Caleb held his plate out and looked at the piece of charred steak smothered in gravy.

  “Want more gravy?”

  “No, I’m good. I’ll take a refill on coffee though.” Tot dropped a biscuit on Caleb’s plate.

  “Taters?”

  “Nope. Just coffee,” he said, holding his cup out.

  The line behind him was forming with hungry cowboys waiting their turn. Normally he would wait, but this morning he had to be the scout for the cattle drive.

  Caleb took his steak and walked to the back of the wagon. He leaned against the wheel while he ate.

  Every week, they slaughtered and butchered one of the cows. Normally it was one of the weaker ones. They would have fresh steak that evening. Then the leftover carcass would be wrapped in burlap and hung in the back of the chuckwagon to dry.

  By the end of the week, Tot was simmering what was left in gravy and serving it for breakfast.

  Gravy hides a multitude of sins.

  He pushed the beef around in the pepper gravy and popped a piece in his mouth.

  The smell of the steak must have enticed the pups as they were all appearing from under the wagon and sitting around Caleb’s feet waiting for a morsel to drop.

  “Looks like you have friends today,” Doc said.

  Caleb pushed the sand towards one of the pups with his boot. He didn’t want to teach them that begging was all right. There would be plenty of leftovers that Tot would feed them once everyone was done. The pup didn’t seem phased by the mini-wall Caleb built and thought he was playing a game.

  “Where’s Tot?” the still sleepy boy asked, rolling out from underneath the wagon.

  “Where’s your shoe, bud?” Caleb said.

  Hart scrambled back under the wagon and came out with his missing boot. He sat on the sand and was about to shove his foot in the boot when Caleb stopped him.

  “Don’t do that. You need to shake it out first.”

  “Like this?” Hart asked, shaking his shoe vigorously up and down. Caleb put his plate as
ide and knelt next to Hart.

  “You need to turn it upside down first.” Caleb took the boot and put a handful of sand inside it.

  “Why are you doing that?”

  “Watch,” Caleb said. He swirled the sand around inside the shoe and then poured it out. A spider almost the color of the ground itself appeared in the sand and scrambled off to underneath the wagon. “If you had put your foot in there, he would have bitten you.”

  “Would I have died?” Hart asked, his eyes going wide.

  “No. But it would have really hurt. That is why cowboys sleep with their boots on.”

  “I want to be a cowboy someday,” Hart said.

  “I’m sure you will be.”

  “Maybe I can even come and work for you.”

  Caleb laughed. “Well the men that work for me are a little older. But maybe if you learn everything you can on the trail, you might be a cowboy by the end of the trip.”

  “I wanna ride at the front.”

  “Have you ever ridden a horse before?”

  Hart nodded. “I would ride Taffy. She was a gentle horse.” He then turned somber and looked at the ground. “But she’s gone now. Those men took her.”

  “I’ll make a report with the sheriff in town and perhaps the men there will find Taffy for you.” Caleb stood back up and helped Hart to his feet. “How do you feel about sleeping in the wagon with your ma?” Caleb didn’t have a clue what he would do with Mrs. Miller, but he’d figure something out.”

  Hart shook his head vigorously. “No. I don’t wanna.”

  “Tot said you’ve been having bad dreams.”

  Hart looked at Tot through narrowed eyes. “I ain’t having no bad dreams.” Caleb didn’t press the issue. Hart caught sight of Slim walking over to the campfire. He was easy to see as he was head and shoulders above the rest of the men. “See you later, Caleb,” Hart said, running towards Slim. The puppies followed after him.