by Marsha Ward
The girl bent over to look at him. “I’ll rub your shoulders, Carl, help you relax a bit,” she offered.
“It wouldn’t be seemly,” Carl said, “you scooting under here with me.”
“Fiddlesticks!” she declared, and crawled under the wagon beside him. “You’re my man, and you need to get your mind and body laid to rest before you can sleep. I reckon it’s my duty to help us all, you going on watch later, and all.”
Carl looked up at her, keeping silent.
“I’m sorry your pa took off in such a hurry, Carl. If that nasty brute is following us, we could use a few more guns to chase him away. I think my pa is so brave to set here ready to stand him off. I am so thrilled.”
Carl sighed wearily and declined to answer.
Ida leaned over him and began to rub his shoulders. He sensed the nearness of her body to his, smelled a faint odor of lilacs, then willed his muscles to go slack under her hands. Soon, her kneading manipulations eased the pain of tension. “That feels mighty good,” he grunted, not caring any longer about the possessive way she was touching him. If Ida didn’t care that her pa saw what she was doing, he wouldn’t care either. Then, he succumbed to the heat and his fatigue and shock, and slept.
When he awoke, the sun was gone and supper was ready, cooked over a large campfire. Uneasy at the amount of light cast upon the prairie, Carl looked around for his father to protest. Then, remembering the split that the group had undergone, he shrugged his shoulders and yawned.
Ida smiled at him across the camp as he crawled from under the wagon, and a shiver of warning went up Carl’s spine. By gum, that girl has something on her mind, and I ain’t got no taste to find out what it is just now, he thought. He arranged his blankets into a neat bed, then stood, got his plate, and approached the fire.
Amanda Hilbrands served him a scoop of beans, some biscuits, and a mug of chicory coffee, eyeing him from under her pale brows. “You slept well enough after Ida tended to you, I see,” she said. “My daughter has healing hands. Her daddy sent her to rub those tired muscles of yours. He says she’s got a real talent.”
Carl stared woodenly at Mrs. Hilbrands, thinking he had not heard right, then walked over to a barrel and sat. He ate silently, gulping down the hot brew in his cup. When his food was gone, Carl drained his mug and threw the grounds into the fire. He dropped his plate and mug into the washtub, wiped his knife on his trousers, and got his rifle from the wagon wheel. Then he walked out a ways from the hubbub of the camp and took his turn on watch.
Gradually, the noises of the camp subsided as the women washed and put away the dishes and the travelers retired to their beds. Glad when the fire died, Carl walked around the outside of the wagons, listening to the night sounds, alert for any unfamiliar noise. He took up a position for a time, then circled the wagons again, never keeping to a set pattern that a watcher could count on.
He listened as the night insects chirped early in the evening, then they, too, went to sleep and he was left in the solitude.
Dwarfed by the immensity of the night sky, Carl wondered where his family was that night. He drove his fist into his hand in frustration at the lowly rank he held in this company that kept him from talking sense into Rand Hilbrands. In Rand’s eyes, he was barely more than a kid, a hired driver, not yet a son-in-law, and not worth listening to. Besides, he was Rod’s son, and right now, that was a count against him. How long would they be here, perched on the side of the road, waiting, and sitting, and eating up the food and drinking the water barrels dry?
When his hours of watch were up, he awakened Tom O’Connor, then prevented him from throwing an armful of fuel onto the fire.
“Let’s don’t show them were we are, Mr. O’Connor.”
“Right, lad. I guess I’m still used to a roaring fire in the hearth of the smithy. It comforts a man, somehow.” Tom went off to take up his position, while Carl returned to the freight wagon to crawl into his blankets.
The next day, Carl spent several hours in Sherando’s saddle, scouting the back trail. He wished Rulon was with him, with his tracking experience, but even without him, he was sure he had not missed anything when he returned and reported to Rand.
“There’s nobody out there, Mr. Hilbrands. Not a sign of folks watching us, not a cigar stub, not a blade of grass bent down for miles around.”
“You’re sure you missed nothing, boy?” asked Angus Campbell. “If they’re not out there, we might as well go on, don’t you think, Rand?”
“No! We’ll wait and fight them from a position of strength!” he trumpeted. “They’re out there, all right. They’re just waiting for a weak moment, a wavering on our part, to close in and destroy us. We’ll wait, I say, and outwit them.”
Carl turned away and went to rub down Sherando. The man is hell-bent on staying until we all take root, he thought. There’s no turning his mind to the righteous path. Grumbling to himself, Carl worked with his horse, cooling it down from the exercise of the morning. Tom O’Connor walked over, and rubbed the horse’s nose.
“Nothing to be seen, lad?”
“Maybe they went back to the last stage stop to drink some courage,” Carl mumbled. “Acosta saw we were well armed when he spied on us, Mr. O’Connor. He’ll have to make a plan other than ‘catch up and shoot’.”
Tom clapped Carl on the shoulder with his massive hand. “That’s thinking, boy. We’re ready for anything, here. But things have changed. There’s less of us now.”
“And he doesn’t know it yet. I don’t reckon there’s any chance of fooling him when he shows up. Eight wagons, take-away four leaves us with the odds about even, and he’ll know it sure as daylight spills over the edge of that prairie when the sun rises.”
Tom’s black brows drew together. “I’m beginning to think twice about this plan of Rand’s. We should have stuck together.”
Carl spun around to face the blacksmith. “It’s too late to change your mind now,” he said, gritting his teeth against striking out at the man. “You should’ve said that when Pa gave you the chance. We’re double-dyed fools to sit here and waste time.”
“Wait a minute, boy. Are you calling me a fool? Better think twice, yourself.”
Carl stood himself up straight. “We’re all fools, one day or another. And I ain’t a boy, Mr. O’Connor. I ain’t been a boy since I joined Mosby.” He jabbed his finger into Tom’s chest.
Tom grabbed Carl’s fist, sucked in a breath, held it, and let it out slowly. “I reckon you’re riled some, Carl. I can’t see as I blame you, getting cut off from your kin.” He loosened his grip on Carl’s fist and dropped it. “If my babies was split up from me, why, I’d—”
“I’m sorry I let go of my manners, sir,” Carl interrupted. “I guess one day or another I’m still a boy.”
“Well, it takes a man to own it, I reckon,” the blacksmith drawled. “Here, let me take that saddle.”
Carl staked Sherando on a fresh patch of grass, then, with his arms full of tack, followed Tom back to the wagons. He dumped the headpiece, bit, and other gear in a heap beside the freight wagon, and accepted the saddle from Tom, who took his hat off, put it back on, then left.
Douglas Campbell wandered up as Carl inspected a loose cinch buckle on his saddle. “Ma says you’re invited to eat dinner with us, come noon.”
“Thanks, Doug. I don’t mind if I do,” Carl replied, recalling that Molly Campbell made the best biscuits he’d ever eaten. “Does your ma have any flour?”
“Sorry, no. But she’s going to open a tin of peaches, I believe. She got it out of the supply bin.”
Carl grinned. “I’ll be there.”
~~~
The day was long in passing, and the enforced idleness weighed heavily on the members of Rand Hilbrands’ rear guard. A quarrel developed between the most tolerant of men, Angus Campbell, and his brother-in-law, Tom O’Connor, over where their stock should be picketed. Rand tried to smooth over their feelings, but he lacked Rod Owen’s mediating skills, and b
ad feelings persisted into the next day.
Again Carl scouted the surrounding area as soon as light broke over the eastern grasslands. He found nothing, even though he went farther afield. When he returned, he gave his report to each of the three men at the camp, for they were not willing to endure each other’s company in order to hear his news at one time. Disgusted, Carl sought his bedroll before noon, and tried to sleep amid the noise of fighting children and quick-tongued wives.
He woke when someone called his name in an urgent whisper, and he sat up hurriedly, bumping his head on the bottom of the wagon box. He swore, wincing at the pain, and rubbed his head.
“Carl Owen, I declare,” exclaimed Ida. “You oughtn’t to say such words in the presence of a
lady.”
Carl groaned and shook his head. “Beggin’ your pardon, Miss Ida. Somebody woke me up real sudden like, and now I’ve got a headache would make a lap dog turn vicious. Whew!” he shook his head again. “What do you want?”
She slid under the wagon and sat beside him. “Only some company. It’s so boring sitting out here, getting hot and sunburned, and swatting flies and ‘skeeters and other horrid little bugs.” She grimaced. “Mama made me scrape some meat this morning. It had maggots on it, and she made me touch it.” She shuddered. “I don’t think she will find me under here with you.”
Carl moved around in his bedroll until the sitting was comfortable and he could face Ida. “Seems like not long ago this setup pleased you mighty fine, your daddy being in charge, and all.”
“Well, it’s dreadful boring now, just like I told you. I’m sorry I ever let him talk us into staying.”
“I didn’t think we had much choice.”
“Fiddle-dee-dee! I could have talked Papa into going on, if I’d have wanted to. I just didn’t want to, at the time.”
“Know your own mind, is it?” Carl’s voice grated in his own ears as he looked Ida up and down.
She flushed. “You’re making fun of me, Carl Owen. It’s not fair for you to tease me.”
But a woman can tease a man all she wants, and nobody says a word, Carl thought. “I was trying to get some sleep, girl,” he said, hunching his shoulders and preparing to lie down again.
“Let me stay here beside you so Mama won’t make me help her again. I fair liked to faint, working this morning.” At Carl’s scowl, Ida put on a smile and put a pleading note into her voice. “Please, Carl. I won’t say another word, just sit real quiet and watch you sleep.”
“Ida, you got the dangedest notions. It ain’t fitting for a girl to stay around when a man sleeps, not unless the two of them is wed.”
“I don’t care. We were supposed to be wed by now. Twice, even. Let’s pretend we are. Then I can cuddle up beside you and get some—”
“Ida Hilbrands! You get along with you. Scoot outta here! I won’t play them kinds of games with you, not here, and not likely anywhere else on this trip. You git!”
Ida went, reluctantly, but finally. Carl let out a shuddering breath, wiping his sopping forehead on his sleeve, and ran his moist hands down the front of his shirt.
He swore mildly, and thought, I’m set to marry one forward gal. We’re sitting here under God’s great sky, not getting one foot nearer to Colorado Territory. I’ll never get that cabin raised before winter sets in. He shook his head and sighed. And I won’t take her to wife, or anything like unto it, until I have a place for us to call our own.
Chapter 9
The next day dragged on like the three before it: hot, humid, and full of quarrels. Carl again went out to scout, but this time, Angus insisted on going along with him.
They didn’t say anything much to each other; there wasn’t a lot to say about riding large circles through the dusty grass, squinting into the sun looking for trampled grass or hoof prints, and feeling the sweat dripping down their chests, backs, and arms. They stopped from time to time to share a gourd of water or to rest their animals, but they still didn’t talk.
Carl and Angus rode all the way back to the knoll where the brothers had discovered the signs of pursuit several days before. The younger man got down from his horse and walked around, looking at the bare patch of ground where men had met and plotted.
He squatted on his heels for a time, backtracking his and Rulon’s movements to determine if there was something here that they had missed. He climbed the hill, stood on the top of the rise, took off his hat and wiped the sweatband, replaced it on his head, and looked out toward the north. A half-mile away, a band of chewed-up earth stood out from the blue stem, catching his eye. Rulon and I came up from behind the hill, he thought, but we didn’t make them tracks out yonder. He stared toward the track in the grass, then turned and ran down the knoll to where Angus waited with the horses.
“We’ve got trouble.” He bowed his head, his chest heaving, then looked up. “No, Pa’s got trouble. Those fellows didn’t go back to town.”
“What?”
He gestured to the north, then around the area. “There’s a big track out there Rulon and I didn’t see before the grass died. They stopped here and had a discussion, and if I’m reading sign rightly, left toward the east, then circled around out that-a-way, rode hard, and set up an ambush for us along the road a piece.” He swore and scrambled into his saddle. “My family and a lot of other good folks moved right into it, and I don’t think they’re going to come out alive, because we’re sitting here on our thumbs waiting for the moon to rise blue!” He clucked to Sherando, and started for the wagons.
“Now, calm down, son. Maybe they did go back after they saw how strong we was,” Angus called.
“No chance,” Carl threw back over his shoulder. “I saw the hate in that man’s eyes when he flung them strange words at me, and he ain’t one to quit on us.”
Angus got his horse started as well, and caught up to Carl. “Maybe he thought better of it after a time,” he shouted.
“You weren’t there, Angus. He’s after my blood, and the blood of my kin, and the girls, too. He won’t give up on the girls,” Carl yelled, his words bouncing out of his mouth.
When Carl and Angus rode into the camp, Tom and Rand were standing nose to nose, shaking fingers in each other’s faces. Carl slid off his horse and ran up to the overheated men.
“Stop it! Stop it right now,” he commanded. “Rand, if you want to prove how much courage you’ve got, then you’ll have to go down the road a piece.”
Randolph turned on the young man. “You’re crazy, boy. We’ll fight off them ruffians right here.”
“Well, they ain’t coming here. They holed up ahead, laying for my ma and pa, and my brothers and sister, and your daughter and little grandchild, and all them good people.”
Tom turned to him. “Speak plain, boy.”
Carl threw out his hands. “Berto Acosta and his bunch circled around and got ahead. My folks could be dead right now.”
“Well, what’re we sitting here for?” Rand sputtered. “We’d better get on the road.” He turned on his heel and strode toward his wagon, then wheeled and returned. “How do you know, boy?”
“The sign all adds up now. Besides,” he continued in a low voice, “I got a feeling in my bones.”
Rand shuddered and moved away, bawling out orders for breaking camp.
~~~
They got underway, pushing the animals hard to eke out extra miles of travel. Carl looked around at the waving grass, and wished the wind would push them along with as much speed. He glanced at Ida. She sat scowling, holding on to the seat of the jolting wagon as he coaxed the mules to pull a little harder, move a little faster. Eliza played with her doll, looking like she was content to be moving again.