The Callahans: The Complete Series

by Gordon Ryan

  From slightly higher, on a rocky outcropping, Sergeant Holloman began to rake the area with the BAR, concentrating on the muzzle flashes. The other five men fired their rounds into the same area, conserving ammunition as Lieutenant Callahan had ordered. As quickly as it had begun, the attack on the truck ended and the enemy fire ceased. The smell of cordite hung in the humid night air following the brief exchange of fire, and then the jungle growth was plunged into a complete silence, broken only by the occasional grunting of what Tommy took to be a wounded bandit lying somewhere up ahead.

  One shrill blast of a whistle immediately identified Colonel Rixby’s position, and by using hand signals in the moonlight, Tommy directed Sergeant Holloman to move toward the sound. Together with another marine private, Holloman began inching his way in the colonel’s direction. In about twenty minutes, two quick blasts of the whistle told Tommy that Holloman had made contact with Colonel Rixby, and Tommy began to move his remaining men toward the truck on the road below.

  As they reached the truck, joining up with Corporal Butterman who was lying in a small depression alongside the road, the moon once again cleared the clouds to illuminate the area. Instantly a burst of gunfire erupted from the hill overlooking the truck, and Butterman, together with Tommy’s men, returned fire. As quickly as it had begun, the firing ceased and silence ensued, followed by the sound of a vehicle engine somewhere up the road ahead, which slowly faded as the vehicle, by its sound, raced down the other side of the mountain pass.

  Corporal Butterman crouched low and made his way toward the truck. Lying on the ground next to the right front wheel, he found Lieutenant Callahan, unconscious, his uniform shirt soaked with blood.

  “Gunny!” Butterman shouted. “The lieutenant’s hit.”

  A whispered order came from the bushes alongside the truck.

  “Shut up, Corporal, or you’ll be next.”

  Out of the dark, two figures emerged as Gunnery Sergeant Holloman and Colonel Rixby exited the jungle growth. Holloman knelt next to the prostrate figure of Lieutenant Callahan and pressed his fingers to the unconscious man’s neck. Finding a pulse, he quickly opened Tommy’s shirt.

  “Colonel, he’s got a chest wound. He’s alive, but he won’t be for long unless we can get him down the mountain to a doctor.”

  The colonel took in the situation immediately.

  “Corporal, clear that tree across the road,” he commanded, stepping toward Sergeant Holloman. “This is one marine officer I’m not losing. Get him in the truck, Sergeant. Now!”

  On the Saturday between Christmas and New Year’s Day, 1924, Teresa drove to Hidden Valley Ranch near Draper, where Seby had invited her to join him in a horseback ride. Though the day was unseasonably mild, the accumulated snow had precluded a ride up into the canyon east of Seby’s holdings, and they rode instead on the flat below South Mountain.

  Cantering some distance behind, in the uncomfortable role of chaperon, rode Reed Warnick, Seby’s ranch foreman, who had been introduced to Teresa as a man “who knows more about horses and cattle than their mothers know.”

  The afternoon passed quickly, and by the conclusion of the day, Seby had explained, in somewhat less formal terms, the request he had made of Teresa’s father on Christmas Eve. Startled at first by the official sounding nature of Seby’s pronouncement, Teresa was smart enough, and even interested enough, not to respond negatively until she had allowed some time to consider his intentions. She understood clearly that Seby was not offering a proposal of marriage, and for that she was quite pleased, career considerations and all, but she also understood that in Seby’s culture such a request was a formality that might well lead to marriage.

  “Seby,” she said as they rode slowly, allowing their horses to head back toward the main house, “I’m flattered by your request to, uh, what shall we say,” she laughed briefly, “court me. Is that the way to put it?” she asked.

  “That’s close enough, Tess,” he smiled back. “May I say that I have thought for some time about approaching your father but have hesitated because of the way we first met, that evening in your parlor, when—”

  “Seby, I should have said something about that meeting long before now. I’ve thought about it many times, and, well, I’ve been embarrassed about the way I behaved. I—”

  “You have nothing to be embarrassed about,” Seby said.

  “Oh, yes, I do,” Teresa continued. “I ­couldn’t figure out what my parents were trying to say. That whole thing about Mom being previously married, to a polygamist no less, and then trying to figure out who you were! I know now that we aren’t related or anything, but when my parents told me that my mother was married for a time to your father, it made it sound like you were my brother. It all came as such a shock. It was more than I could absorb.”

  “Teresa, it was of no consequence. I can—”

  “No, Seby. Let me finish. I need to say this.”

  Teresa smiled and shook her head before continuing. “That day at the barn, I was awful. You had been a perfect gentleman, but I acted like a fool. I ­wouldn’t have blamed you if you’d never spoken to me again. I’m sorry, Seby, for the way I treated you. You didn’t deserve it.”

  Seby didn’t immediately respond, and the two of them rode in silence for a few moments. Finally, Teresa spoke again.

  “Seby?”

  “Yes?”

  “This is the place where ­you’re supposed to say it’s all right and that you forgive me,” Teresa said, smiling.

  The young Mexican reined his horse in front of Teresa’s and turned his mount so that they sat side by side, facing one another.

  “Of course I forgive you,” he said, looking into her eyes.

  From his position, some one hundred yards behind, Reed saw the two riders stop their horses, and he also pulled up. He sat his horse, averting his eyes somewhat from the scene ahead.

  Seby and Teresa sat quietly for a few moments, looking at each other. Finally, Teresa sat forward in her saddle, leaned toward Seby, and pressed her lips softly against his. After a moment, she broke off their kiss and settled back into her saddle. She smiled briefly at the somewhat startled Seby, then suddenly spurred her horse forward into a gallop, kicking up clods of earth and racing toward the corrals.

  Later, at a wooden table in the ranch house kitchen, with Reed seated within hearing distance in the adjacent living room, Seby and Teresa sat across from each other, drinking hot chocolate and conversing.

  “Tess, I have often thought of you over these last few years. When your mother’s unfortunate accident brought us together again, I realized that you were no longer the young girl I had remembered, and I began thinking of you in terms of being a woman—a very attractive woman, I might add.”

  “­You’re awfully bold, aren’t you, Mr. Stromberg?” Teresa teased.

  “If I recall correctly,” Seby countered, “you were the one who kissed me when I delivered you home from the hospital. Did it mean nothing to you?”

  “Well, I was in a state of emotional stress,” Teresa explained, laughing. “You took advantage of me.”

  Seeing a look of protest on Seby’s face, Teresa quickly added, “I’m just kidding. Actually, it meant a great deal to me. I’ve never forgotten it,” she confessed.

  She went on. “That night, I knew the feelings I originally had for you were real, but I also knew that I was leaving for New York as soon as my mother was fully recovered. Now, after these two years have gone by, I guess I’ve become a bit more independent—more than my parents would like, in fact. I still have my career to pursue. I’m not certain I’m ready to make a commitment, Seby.”

  “Do you see no chance for us then, Teresa?”

  “I ­wouldn’t say that, Mr. Stromberg. To tell the truth, and in matters of the heart everyone knows that a woman is not required to do so, I still find you a very attractive man. And actress or not, I know that I won’t be able to hide those feelings forever. I’m just saying, let’s give it some time.”
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  “That’s all I hoped for, Tess. And that’s enough for now,” he said.

  When they stepped out of the ranch house onto the porch, the sun had set behind the Oquirrhs to the south and west of where they stood. The winter evening air had turned cold, and a few clouds showed pink in the sky above the western mountains.

  Seby walked Teresa to her car, but before she got in, he said, “You say ­you’re going to Los Angeles in a few weeks?”

  “Yes, to take a screen test.”

  “Are you hopeful of having the same success in film that you’ve enjoyed on Broadway?”

  Teresa removed the scarf from her head and tossed it through the open window onto the front seat, then she shook her hair out. She had resisted the urge to cut it shorter into one of the fashionable bobs that were all the rage, and it remained long and, at the moment, windblown and unruly.

  “I don’t know, Seby. It’s still a new industry, and I’ve talked with a few people who say that you can’t tell how the camera will treat you until you see the results. Besides, I have the same reservations I had in New York about living in a world where immorality is so rampant. But I do want to see what they say about my chances of being in the movies.”

  Teresa opened the car door but didn’t immediately get in. “One reason I’m going to Hollywood to take this screen test is that the role I’ve been offered in New York next season would require me to act the part of someone whose values I would feel uncomfortable portraying.”

  “Can you not separate the role from reality?”

  Teresa smiled at Seby. “Of course, but it feels as though by playing the role that I’m promoting or at least endorsing that lifestyle. Last year, I had quite a lot of fan mail from young women who said how much they identified with my character and wanted to be like her. I had a good role then, but if I play someone sleazy ... Can you see what I mean?”

  Seby nodded. “I can understand that. Don Sebastian used to tell me that the people in Mazatlán looked to our family as an example, and when, as a small boy, I would do anything that was not right, he would take me aside and correct my behavior by saying that as the patron, the people looked to him and to our family to uphold the highest standards—that we would be letting them down if we failed to behave properly.”

  Teresa laughed and ran her fingers through her hair, pulling at some of the tangles.

  “That sounds like one of Sister Mary’s lectures. She never directly reprimanded me, but she always made me consider how a proper young lady should act. I wonder what she would say about my current situation.”

  “Do you think she would advise you not to go?”

  “No. She was always in favor of our stretching our wings and reaching for higher goals, but she also reminded us to remember who we were.”

  Teresa got into her car, but before starting the engine, she looked at Seby through the open window. With the daylight rapidly fading, Seby said, “Be careful driving home.” Then he added, “Tess, it just so happens that I need to be in Los Angeles to meet an arriving cargo ship and take delivery of another shipment of New Zealand racing stock I bought from PJ. Would you consider flying down with me?”

  “Flying? I’m terrified of those things.”

  “Then this is the way to overcome such fear,” he laughed, reaching for her hand. “I promise to be very careful.”

  “I’ll think about it,” she smiled and started the car’s engine.”

  “It’s been a wonderful day, Tess,” Seby said.

  She nodded. “Thank you, Seby, for honoring my father enough to seek his permission to, uh, court me. I know it meant a lot to him.”

  “I greatly respect your parents, Tess. They’ve been very good to me, and I owe them much. By the way, are you free for New Year’s Eve?”

  Tess cocked her head, then said, “It just so happens, Mr. Stromberg, that I’m not.”

  “Oh,” he said, a look of disappointment crossing his face. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “Don’t be,” she said, smiling. “I’m booked solid for the next three weeks with a very handsome, very respectful, and very old-fashioned Mexican-American rancher.”

  “Oh? Ooooh,” he brightened. “I see. Well, I’ll be sure he’s on time every day.”

  “You do that,” she winked and started her car down the gravel driveway.

  Teresa was up long before dawn, but truth be known, she had been awake since shortly after three. How she had allowed herself to let Seby talk her into flying to Los Angeles she ­couldn’t imagine, but as she finished packing the last few items she felt essential, given the limited

  luggage Seby had said they could take on the aircraft, she knew she would have to go through with her foolish promise or reveal a streak of cowardice to him. A soft knock on her door, followed by a creaking of the old hinges, revealed another coward, one less reluctant to show it to the world—her mother.

  “Tess,” she said as she stepped into the room, “for the last time, ­you’re not going to go through with this idiocy, are you? You can be in Los Angeles tomorrow if you only take the train this morning.”

  “Mom, I told Seby I’d go, and, by golly, I’m going to go if he has to blindfold me before we take off.”

  “Tess, I’m so frightened.”

  “You’re not going, Mom, I am,” Teresa laughed. “Besides, it will impress the studio president when I show up for my screen test by landing on their airstrip in my own plane.”

  “You call me the minute you land, you hear? The very minute. I won’t budge from the phone, or feel safe, until you call.”

  “Mom, it will take most of the day. Seby said we’ll stop in St. George to refuel and probably have lunch. We won’t get to Burbank until after four this afternoon. Why don’t you just go about your normal routine?”

  “This is my normal routine, my dear daughter. Mothers are supposed to worry. That’s what we were created for,” Katrina said, smiling through her resistance to Teresa’s stubbornness.

  “If you insist. Is Dad ready to drive me out to Draper?”

  “He’s out at the car. He thinks this is great. After flying with Seby up to Wyoming to go fishing last year, he says it’s the only way to travel. I think I’ll leave it to your generation, Tess.”

  The blindfold proved unnecessary. Tess steeled herself for the ordeal by employing her acting skills. She tried to imagine herself as an adventurous woman, for whom flying was as routine as riding in an automobile. As for Seby, he seemed oblivious to her fear, going about his normal pre-flight routine and loading the luggage as though Tess were a veteran flyer. Finally, they climbed into the cockpit, buckled their safety harnesses, and Seby started the engine.

  Listening to the coughing and sporadic backfiring of the plane’s single engine while it was warming up, Tess forgot her playacting. It was too late to turn back, but she no longer sought to hide her anxiety. Seated next to Seby, who was busy with the instruments, she fought to control a wave of nausea by breathing deeply and keeping her eyes shut tight. When the engine finally smoothed out, Seby began taxiing toward the end of the dirt strip that ran adjacent to his ranch house. After cranking down the flaps, he revved the engine.

  “Ready, Tess?” he shouted over the cacophony.

  Tight-lipped, Tess just nodded and searched for something to hold onto in the cramped cockpit.

  Seby released the brakes and the aircraft began to roll down the strip, bouncing as it gathered speed and fishtailing slightly as the rear wheel came off the ground. With a slight pull on the stick, the wheels left the ground and they were airborne, the absence of the bumpy ride being Teresa’s only indicator of flight. Seby gained a little altitude and then banked sharply as he approached the county road that traversed his ranch. He spotted Tom’s car parked alongside the road with Tom standing nearby, waving as they approached. Seby pointed to him so Teresa could see, waggled his wings a bit, and then flew directly over the top of Tom, who had stayed to watch their departure.

  Within moments, the aircra
ft had climbed to 2,500 feet and turned northwest, beginning a large circle so that Teresa could have a view of the Great Salt Lake, Antelope Island, and the downtown area, including Temple Square. Fascinated by the view, Teresa finally relaxed her hands somewhat and studied the landmarks on the ground below. They flew without trying to speak over the noise of the engine, and after making two complete circles, Seby turned the plane southwest to fly over the pass at Point of the Mountain and head down Utah Valley toward Orem and Provo.

  “Oh, my,” Tess exclaimed. “Oh, my goodness,” she repeated as she scanned the horizon and the ground beneath, amazed at how quickly they came upon the familiar landmarks she knew from the many automobile trips she and her parents had taken through the southern valley.

  Off their left wing, Mount Timpanogos and the other snow-covered peaks of the Wasatch Range shone brilliantly in the early morning sun. Sunlight reflected off the myriad lakes and streams tucked into the crevices of the mountain range, and as they flew south, passing Lehi and the smaller communities of Utah County, Teresa repeated her exclamation several times. Far below them, the bright blue water of Utah Lake shimmered, providing a beautiful setting. They continued down the valley, finally passing out of residential and commercial areas, and within twenty minutes, they were flying over barren country, the only sign of habitation being the tiny speck far ahead that Seby said was the community of Nephi.

  Suddenly aware that she had been completely mesmerized by the perspective afforded by her new, unlimited visibility, Teresa turned to look at her pilot.

  “Seby,” she said, leaning toward him and speaking loudly, “why haven’t you ever taken me up before?”

  Seby began to laugh and then he leaned toward her, quickly kissing her lips and tousling her hair.