by Ward, Marsha
~~~
Rod spoke to the men gathered around the blowing horses. “We’ll likely need extra guards tonight. I don’t know if them rowdies have other friends, nor if they’d be foolish enough to attack an armed camp, but we’d best be prepared for them. Clay, Albert!”
“Yes, Pa,” responded the two boys.
“You bunch the stock and put them on pickets, those you can. We’ll give you more guards. Folks, let’s form a square with the wagons. Angus, you and Ed put yours on the east side, Tom and Chester, take the south. Rand, you pull into the west, and Rulon and me’ll make the north side.”
“Rod, I reckon I need some supplies,” Tom O’Connor said.
“This is a good time for everyone to take stock. Look over your goods, and if you need victuals, or extra shot, go into town together to buy.” The men dispersed, except for Rand Hilbrands, who approached Rod.
“Where’s Carl? My driver?”
Rod gestured toward the family wagon. “Getting his wounds tended. Say, Rand, the young ones wanted to get wed today, but I don’t think it’s a good idea now. Will you let Carl know?”
Rand grimaced. “I will.” He walked up to Carl, who was seated on a barrel of cornmeal undergoing Marie’s ministrations. “Carl, my boy, you done a fine, brave thing. I’m mighty grateful to you for rescuing my girl Ida from those thugs.” Rand reached into his trousers pocket. “Here, take this coin with my thanks.” He pressed it into Carl’s puffy hand and continued. “Your pa said to say today’s not a good time to wed.”
“No, I—” Carl began, but Marie muffled her brother’s voice with the cold cloth she held tightly to his mouth as Rand walked toward his wagon.
Marie removed the cloth when Rand was safely out of hearing range. “You were going to get married today?”
“Yep. That Acosta fellow surely messed up my plans.”
Marie bit her lip, and ached for Ellen. When she had finished with Carl’s face, she said, “Your hands are a mess, your lip is split, and you’ll likely have a black eye for a spell, but you’ll soon make Ida’s heart go ‘pitty-pat’ again.”
Carl squinted at his sister and gave a quick shrug of his shoulders, then got up from the barrel. “Thank you for tending my face. You didn’t have to do that.”
“I know it. Put your shirt on. You surely look foolish parading around half-naked.” She put her fist on a hip. “Then go thank Ellen Bates. She’s the only one of us who thought of caring for your ugly mug.”
Carl felt his swollen lip with bruised fingers. “That was right sisterly of her.”
Marie stared at her brother, unable to think of a proper response.
“What do I do with all this money, Sis? I’ve got my eye on a change of clothes, and I want to get something pretty for Ma, but I expect I’ll have a bit left over.”
“It’s your money, and I reckon you took a beating to earn it, but I wouldn’t fuss if you was to bring me a bite of something sweet.”
“The store has a candy counter. I’ll do it. I reckon that’ll pay you back for washing up my face.”
“Mind you, it was Ellen’s idea. If you bring me some candy, you have to bring her some likewise.”
“I wonder why she didn’t fix me up herself?” he asked, putting on his shirt.
~~~
Six cautious men went back into town to buy provisions, and Carl was among them. He picked out his clothes quickly, and then lingered over a selection of gifts for his ma, finally choosing a bright yellow Spanish shawl with colored embroidery and fringes around the edge. He spent a whole quarter dollar at the candy counter, and came away with plenty of sweets for the young people at the camp.
On the return trip, Chester Bates matched the gait of his horse to Carl’s. The furrows between the older man’s nose and mouth deepened and widened as he smiled at the young man and motioned for him to slow his mount.
When they had their horses walking, Chester put his hand out and gripped Carl’s shoulder. “I’m beholden to you for defending the girls today. My Ellen has a strong mind and will, but she’s no match for a bully of that kind. I thank you.”
“Your daughter spoke out well for the girls. She is a brave one, Mr. Bates. If she had been armed, likely there’d have been no need for my help.”
“You’re a modest lad, and well spoken yourself. Your pa can be proud of such a son.”
Carl squirmed under this praise, knowing he had not earned it for defending Ellen or his sister. He said nothing, and Chester nodded to him and rode off up the trail.
When he reached camp, Carl went directly to his family’s wagon and changed into his new clothes. As he dropped from the wagon box, his mother straightened up from the fire and looked him over.
“Don’t you look fine! I count myself lucky that my sons are as fair of deed as they are of figure.”
“Oh, Ma!” he protested, then advanced to the fire and placed a bundle into her busy hands.
“What’s this, Carl?”
“Something I thought you’d like, Ma.”
“For me?”
“You’re the only ma I got.”
She moved to the barrel beside the wagon and sat, smoothing the paper wrapping. “For me?” she asked again.
“Go ahead, open it, Ma.”
She worried over the knots, until Carl stepped forward with his knife and cut the string. Then she wrapped it into a ball over her fingers and tucked it into a pocket of her apron.
“Come on, Ma,” Carl urged.
She spread apart the paper, and the yellow silk burst into the light. Julia caught her breath. “Oh, Carl, it’s lovely!” She laughed and held the shawl to her face, pressing the softness of the fabric against her cheek. “Where’d you get the coin for this, boy?”
“Mr. Hilbrands gave me a little ‘thank you’ present. He was grateful Ida wasn’t harmed.”
“And well she might have been.” Julia sighed. “I don’t know what got into those girls, even to think of going into a strange town without a man to escort them. I’m glad you boys happened along in time.”
Basking in his mother’s grateful reception of his present, Carl went in search of the girls.
“Here you go, Sis,” he said, and gave Marie a twist of paper. “Thank you.” He turned to Ellen and presented her with a similar paper twist. “I reckon thanks goes to you, too. Marie says so.”
Ellen looked at Marie. “What’s this for?”
“Tell her, Carl.”
“Marie says you sent her over to fix up my wounds. I’m obliged.”
Ellen turned to her friend. “Marie!” she protested, fidgeting with the paper in her hands. Then she held the candy out to Carl. “I didn’t do nothing. I can’t take it.”
“Nonsense. It’s for keeping your head, like.”
She looked down. “Thank you.”
“Enjoy your sweets.”
Carl turned away, and Marie whispered to Ellen, “Look there, he’s bringing you presents. And Ida ain’t married him yet. He’s still fair game.”
“Marie, he treats me like he treats you. I’m an extra sister, to his mind.”
Marie took hold of Ellen’s upper arm and gave it a shake. “Don’t give up, Ellen. Sometimes he’s a bother, but my brother Carl’s worth having. You keep in his sight. Don’t let him forget you’re around.” She let go of her friend’s arm. “Mind you, Ida’s fun, and I reckon Carl thinks so, too, but I don’t think she’ll make him a good wife out in the Colorado Territory. She ain’t the pioneering kind.”
Ellen held the twist of candy over her heart. “But there’s James to consider.”
Marie sighed. “There’s nothing wrong with James,” she said. “He’s nice enough: he’s kind, and he’s brave—he’s got a bayonet wound to prove that.”
“I don’t want James,” Ellen said, shaking her head, her face gone somber. “He’s got that grin, and a quick wit, and I feel so ashamed that I can’t find a morsel of affection for him.” She hid her eyes behind her hands for a moment, then added, “
I was so glad when Reverend Halsey didn’t come. I know James was, too. But now he comes to our fire and sits with me, and tries to pretend he’s happy a-courtin’ me. He’ll even kiss my hand from time to time before he goes back to your fire, but there’s no…no loss in my bosom when he leaves.”
Marie’s eyes were wet with tears. “Oh, Ellen,” she sniffed. “Why is life so hard?”
~~~
“They will regret they ever came to Ciudad Kansas,” the Mexican swore, breathing with difficulty through his smashed nose. “The young one, he will watch Berto Acosta have his way with the girl.” He drained the beer from the mug he held in his fist, then turned and shouted, “I will follow them, and the muchacha will be mine!”
“You need rest, Berto,” Willy murmured, taking hold of his arm.
“Shore, that nose won’t heal proper if you sit here drinking all night,” Rankin agreed, grabbing the second arm. “Let’s get some sleep. We’ll pick up their trail easy in a couple of days. Them tenderfeet are always easy to track.”
Chapter 8
For several days after leaving the city of Kansas, the travelers had the road to themselves. Although stage stops and farms stretched all along their path, the other men agreed with Rod that camping and cooking their own food was both cheaper and safer than stopping to eat ready-made meals. However, Rod did inquire for news of Indian movements along the trail ahead.
A week later, the party came upon a fork in the trail, and Rod pointed out to Julia the branch angling off toward the northeast.
“That there’s the road to Oregon. There used to be a sign here, telling folks which way was what. It was mostly a joke.”
“But we don’t go that way?”
“Nah. We take the left fork, keep going west until we hit the Arkansas River.”
“Looks easy to follow, Rod.”
“Should be. This trail is over forty years old. I reckon we could hold to the road in a snowstorm. The tracks are worn deep and wide.”
“How come there is more than one trail going to the same place, like over there?” Julia gestured toward another track 50 yards away.
“I’ve been told folks would strike off on a path to one side, or where the grass was thicker for the stock. All the trails go to the same place—Santa Fe.”
“I like the trees along here. They remind me of home.” She pointed to a stand of oaks interrupting the waves of blue-stemmed grass.
“Enjoy them now, woman. There’s a long stretch ahead of us without trees at all, and it goes for hundreds of miles. Jonathan said folks call it the ‘Great American Desert’. That’s where all them buffalo are supposed to cover the land from one horizon to the other.”
“Rod, ain’t there no trees in the Colorado Territory?”
“We’ll have trees, Julie. I promise you we’ll have trees if I have to plant ‘em myself.”
“That’ll take years, Rod. I’d hanker for shade.”
“You’ll have it. I didn’t bring you out here to pioneer forever. We’ll have all we had back in the Shenandoah, and more. I figure to make a heap of money. I aim to have my share of this country, especially since the Yankees took as much of mine as they did. If I’ve got to start over, I mean to end big.”
“Rod.” Julia changed the subject. “I’ve been watching that dust cloud out there on the horizon, and it’s growing mighty fast. Somebody’s in a powerful hurry.”
Rod studied the dust for a moment, noting how it boiled up out of the distant roadway. “No telling what trouble that could be. We’d best get off the road and circle the wagons.”
Rod directed his team off the road, and the others followed him, wondering what was causing the delay. At Rod’s explanation, they drew the eight wagons into a tight circle, unhitched the teams, and led them into the center along with the extra livestock. Then they found their rifles and waited as the dust cloud drifted nearer.
A few minutes later, a loud thundering sound accompanied the dust. Soon, the nervous watchers made out a dark, bulky shape, like a covered freight wagon, bearing down on them at high speed.
As it drew closer, Rulon called out to his father. “Pa. I reckon that’s the mail stage.” He walked nearer, and continued in a lower voice. “I reckon I forgot to tell you it was expected about now.”
Rod expelled a lungful of air, and looked at his eldest son. “No harm done, I guess. Next time I send you to a stage stop for information, it would pleasure me if you would tell me all you dig up, boy.”
“I’m sorry I forgot to give you that word, Pa. I reckon I ain’t a boy no longer, though. Not with a wife and young’uns.”
“You’ll always be my boy, Rule. That’s the way of fathers.” Rod suddenly focused on his son’s face. “Wait a minute. You said ‘young’uns’?”
“You been preoccupied, Pa. Mary and me, well, Mary, anyway, is a-brooding chick number two. We reckon it’ll hatch just before spring.”
“That’s why she didn’t want to come west. A gal gets mighty particular about her nest during these times. Is she taking this traveling well, son?”
“Well enough. Look at that stage, Pa.”
Six horses pulled the coach abreast of the wagons. The stage, blue- and red-painted sides gleaming through the dirt, sped by with only a wave of the hand from the guard, and then the stage, passengers, guard, and driver all blended into the dirty ball of dust following them.
Edward Morgan laughed. “That’s a good joke on us, Rod. We’re sitting here all ready for Indians.”
“Practice makes perfect, they say,” Rod said, his mouth set in wry lines. “Let’s hitch up and get on the road again.”
~~~
Several hours later, Ida turned to Carl on the wagon seat. “What if that had been Indians?” she asked.
“What?”
“Back there. The stage. What would we do if they did come down on us?”
“Ida, a lot of us came through the war because we were pretty good with our rifles. That, and lucky. We’ve been practicing with our new revolvers, too. I reckon we’ll fight them off, girl. A bunch of Indians can’t be much different than a bunch of blue-belly Yankees.”
Ida sighed. “I expect I’d die of fright. I still shudder when I think what might have happened to little ol’ me.” She gave an illustration of her best shudder.
Carl clamped his mouth shut against angry words. Her games grated on his nerves, what with the edgy feeling he’d had as soon as he woke that morning.
Ida continued to prattle on about her fright, and when he could bear no more, Carl turned his head to stare at her, trying to get his anger under control before he spoke.
Ida arched her eyebrows and remarked, “You’re a cranky ol’ fuss-budget today, Carl Owen. What ails you?”
Carl turned back to the lines, thinking, I got a bad feeling, and when James rode up alongside the wagon, Carl hailed him.
“Hey, James. Come take the mules for a spell.”
James looked surprised, but traded places with Carl and greeted Ida, who sat frowning next to Eliza. “Hello, Miss Ida. Bet you could use the sight of a handsome face for once.”
“Hello, James,” she said in a monotone.
“Well, you’ll get over that snit,” he replied. “You always do.”
“Humph,” she replied, and bounced nearer her sister.
Carl rode off on James’s horse, breathing deeply, feeling his anger drop away as he put distance between himself and the wagons. He headed east, checking the back trail, easing off toward the north. Searching the prairie, not knowing what he expected to find, he gained composure in the act of working.
After a few miles of riding through tall grass, Carl turned south again, and stopped to let his horse breathe. A rider approached from the direction of the wagon train, and he sat the horse and waited. Once he made out Rulon’s blunt face, he walked the animal forward to meet his older brother.
“Find anything, Carl?” Rulon drawled.
“Nothing. And what’s more, I don’t know what I expect
to find, but I been nervy as a bird waiting for the cat to pounce. I sure would admire to know why.”
“I felt the same. Say, did you ride all the way back to that knoll over yonder?”
“Not yet.”
“Let’s go check it.”
After riding for a time in silence, they reached the hill and cautiously circled wide behind it, approaching from the rear side. Rulon pulled up his horse, and pointed toward the east.
“See where that grass has been pushed aside? Somebody rode through that blue stem, probably early today.”
The brothers dismounted and let the reins drag, ground-tying their horses. Rulon took the east approach, and Carl the west, and they advanced slowly, eyes sweeping the earth at the foot of the knoll.
“Look here,” Rulon sang out, excitement registering in his voice.
Carl arrived to see Rulon down on his knees, picking up the stub of a thin black cigar. The grass was trampled in a large area, and included sign that several men and horses had met. Deep heel tracks marked where someone had squatted down. He had drawn in the dirt, then smoothed away the drawing.
“Did they watch the trail?” Carl asked, looking up at the knoll for signs of ascent.
“I reckon. I’ll go up and see what’s to be found there.”
As Rulon climbed the hill, Carl walked over the area again, searching for more sign of what had taken place. He found a spot where a man had stretched out on his back, and the grass was still bent over, showing the outline of his body.
Rulon gave a shout as he skidded down the last few feet of the hill. “Somebody bellied-down there for quite a spell,” he puffed, then caught his breath and went on. “Watching for us, maybe. The way I read it, they came before daylight and waited until we passed by, then up and returned the way they came.” He gestured around. “How many do you figure in the party, Carl?”
“I count two over here, then two more came up. How many climbed up yonder?”
“Just the one, and he smokes these thin cigars. I found three more stubs up there. Something puzzles me, though. I thought maybe these folks might be those toughs from back yonder in Kansas town, but the feller up the hill didn’t mind getting a little dirt on his britches. Your Mexican friend was powerful upset when you dusted up his clothes, so was it really him and his cronies?”