by Marsha Ward
Ellen gasped and turned away to hide the red that she felt flaming her face. She had not told Marie about Carl’s response to her fall from the wagon. That night she had felt his emotion flowing into her from his hands, almost like fire, and she knew that he had been badly shaken by his unsuspected passion. Still, he had gone back to Ida. Ellen had seen them walking out of the camp on the last night at Great Bend, and had seen Ida’s face when they returned, and she knew that Ida was still Carl’s intended.
“Don’t you give up!” Marie’s words pulled Ellen back from the verge of despair. “You can’t give up till the preacher says the words over them. She ain’t right for him, and I reckon he knows it. His soul is a-ragin’, and he don’t get much sleep, pacing around all the night long.”
Ellen pressed two hands against her chest. “It can’t be on account of me.”
Marie pounced on the comment. “What do you mean? What’s happened?”
“Nothing! That’s why it can’t be on my account. You know I say dumb things sometimes,” Ellen mumbled.
“You never do. You always make perfect sense. You’re the most sensible girl I know, and you never could tell a lie.”
Ellen shut her eyes against the daylight for a moment, then opened them wide. “There ain’t nothing I can tell you,” she blurted out, and ran blindly back to her wagon.
~~~
Near the junction of the Huerfano and Arkansas Rivers, Autobees’ Plaza sat in the sun. Set back from the cabins along the bluffs, the stockade lay with the gate cautiously open, surrounded by corrals and baking ovens. The settlement was a welcome sight, and Rod took Chester Bates with him when he went to collect news.
Hailing the gatekeeper, an old Mexican man with shrewd eyes, Rod and Chester gained entrance to the stockade, and halted their horses by a post outside the main building. They dismounted and tied their animals, then entered the trading room.
A bar of planks laid on two barrels occupied one side of the interior; store goods filled the other walls. A rough wooden box on the counter was labeled “U. S. Mail” in black paint. There were three letters in the box.
Seated behind the bar planks, a slight, clean-shaven man drank milk from a whiskey glass while he munched on a sandwich and read a folded newspaper. He looked up at the approach of the men.
“You the owner?” Rod asked.
The man nodded his head, his cheeks full of bread and meat.
Rod hitched up his belt. “I’m Rod Owen. This here is Chester Bates. We aim to take up land on the Homestead Act. What can you tell us about this country?”
The man swallowed his food and smiled, putting out his large, square hand. “I’m Charlie Autobees, Justice of the Peace for Huerfano County, so I’m the man to ask. What kind of land are you seeking?”
“I aim to graze cattle, but my wife favors trees. Where can I find good pasture land and trees, both?”
Charlie Autobees spread both arms outward. “There’s plenty of land in the County, so you got a powerful mite to choose from.” He walked over to a map hung on one wall. “We take in pretty near all the corner of the Territory, from here to Kansas, but if I was to hanker after trees, I’d keep on southwest of here and hit for the Wet Mountains.” He tapped the spot on the map. “They’re plum full of pasture land, and they’s a-plenty of water, and about now I ‘spect the leaves are bound to be a-turning. Makes a right purty sight for the women folks to take joy in.”
“You got any towns around here? We got a storekeep with goods and a blacksmith along with us.”
“If it’s towns you want, just follow the Arkansas. We ain’t too far removed from Pueblo City. Down south there’s a Mexican settlement to two. One called Leones ain’t far down the Huerfano and the Cuchara. ‘Course, down along the Santa Fe road, there’s the settlements at Raton Pass, but they ain’t a place for the ladies. They got a name for being tough towns.” As he mentioned each place, Autobees traced the route on the map.
“How about farming?” Chester asked. “You got any place that’ll grow wheat?”
“That’d be down along the Cuchara. You take the Huerfano down to the fork, then head up the left branch. There’s folk settling in there growing beans, wheat, hay, and corn. You name it, and it grows down there. For your smith, now, I recollect they was needing one down to Leones. He’d get a warm welcome down that way.”
“Rod, looks like I’ve found the place I’m looking for.” Chester hitched up his own belt.
Rod looked closely at the map. “There’s a choice of towns for Rand to set up shop in, and Tom’s likely to find work down south.” Rod turned to Autobees and put out his hand. The man took it and they shook. “We’re obliged to you for your help. I reckon we file homestead claims here?”
“Yup.”
They took their leave, and Rod looked back at the distance-shrunken stockade as they approached the wagons.
“Looks like our trails are separating, Chester. You’re a steady man, and I’ve valued our friendship.”
“This surely ain’t good-bye forever, Rod. The women folk will want to see each other, not to mention the unfinished business with the young folks. We’ll be a-visiting, I reckon.”
“I’ll be handy for house-raising and such, Chester. You can count on me and my boys for help when you need it.”
“I know it, Rod.”
~~~
The travelers gathered around Rod and Chester as they dismounted and walked into camp. Rod spoke first.
“Pueblo City is close by, on the Arkansas. Rand, you could set up your store there, or go further south where some farmers have a settlement.”
“I’d just as lief settle near the mining activities,” said Rand. “I’ll take a look at Pueblo City.”
“I’m ready to follow the river south,” announced Chester. “There’s good land for crops down there. Who’ll go with me?”
“I will,” said Ed Morgan. “Elizabeth is of a mind to settle near Muriel.”
“Molly and me will join you,” added Angus Campbell.
“There’s a town down there needing a smith, Tom. Come along, settle near your kin,” Chester urged.
Tom O’Connor flexed his heavy shoulders. “All this traveling has me hankering after the fire and the forge. Next to the fire is a pleasant spot to be, come wintertime.”
“I’ll go in with Rand to Pueblo City and pick up Carl, then head south for the Wet Mountains,” Rod said. “If I picture it right, we’ll be about forty miles northwest of you folks.”
“Then this is our last camp together?” asked Carl.
“We go our own ways after the nooning,” his father answered.
Carl glanced around the circle. A bond of strength gained from trials overcome joined him to these men: Chester Bates, strong and solid, quietly going about doing the right thing; Edward Morgan, thin and dark, his quick grin and friendly ways starting to return after the blow of his little girl’s death; Angus Campbell, with piercing blue eyes and sandy hair; Tom O’Connor, brawny and restless, still mourning for his long-dead wife; and Rand Hilbrands, tall and fleshy, with a somber air. Now they were parting, and pain squeezed his stomach.
James had brought in an antelope the previous night, and Julia cut up what remained of it for dinner. Marie invited Ellen to eat, and the girls huddled together, dreading their separation.
Ellen looked at Marie, whose eyelashes were jeweled with tears.
“Don’t cry or you’ll start me off. You heard your pa. We won’t be that far away from you. Only forty miles.”
“Forty miles! Ellen Bates, that’s as far away as Staunton or Winchester is from Mount Jackson. How often did you get to go that far away from home?”
“I think it’s different out here, Marie. A body has to go far to get to any place from another. We’ll visit back and forth. I just feel it in my bones.”
Chester Bates arrived with Rand Hilbrands right behind him. “It’s time to be off, Ellen. We’ll see you, Mistress Owen, Miss Marie.” Chester nodded to them.
“Before you go, Chester, listen a minute,” Rand said. “I plan to have a little Christmas party for everyone come the holidays. You’ll pass the word to your group?”
“I will.”
“Then come look me up in Pueblo City on Christmas Eve, and we’ll make merry in our new home.”
Julia smiled. “Thank you for the invitation, Mr. Hilbrands. It’ll be like long-ago times.”
“Let’s be off, miss,” Chester said, taking Ellen’s arm. She walked off with her father, looking back at Marie as long as she could. Then she got in the wagon, and it rumbled away with the others, heading southwest along the Huerfano River.
~~~
There was one more fort to pass before they arrived at the town, and Rod spotted it at noon on the following day.
“Fort Reynolds,” he told Julia. “We’ll stop to eat here, then get on the road again. We should reach Pueblo City before dark.”
“It will be nice to see a town, and I know Amanda will be happy to settle here, but I’m not a city girl, Rod. One night will be enough for me.”
Dusk turned the sky to lead when the party first glimpsed the lights of Pueblo City. Small adobe buildings and timbered shacks abounded on the outskirts. In the center of commerce stood a hotel, a squat affair of Spanish styling, short on grace, but long on hospitality. Even before they approached the front of the hotel, they could hear a fiddle squawking and a loud voice attempting to sing:
“I got a mule, her name is Sal, fifteen miles on the Erie Canal. She’s a good ol’ worker and a good ol’ gal; fifteen miles on the Erie Canal.”
Carl grinned at the sound. “He sings worse than me, Ida, but it’s Friday night, and I reckon nobody minds much.”
“I mind. I hope he don’t think to go on all night. I was planning to sleep sound, in a real bed.”
“That sounds mighty nice. If your pa pays me off tonight, I’ll have the price of a bed, too.” He blushed as his thoughts wandered back over his words.
“Oh, pooh,” Ida said, flicking her fingertip across his nose. She sighed deeply. “How soon till we can wed, Carl?”
“Soon as the house is built, I’ll come after you. Surely there’s somebody in town that can marry us.” Ida laid her hand on his arm and turned to look at him. Carl squirmed on the seat. “It won’t be long now, girl. I’ll come visit you if I can get away.” He turned to look into her blue eyes.
“That’ll be grand, Carl.” She smoothed her dress across her knees, then brushed a speck of dust from her bodice. “I’ll look forward to your visits.”
Carl turned his eyes front in time to pull the team to a halt before the mules ran into the back of the Hilbrands’ family wagon. He jumped off the high seat, went around the wagon, and scooped up Eliza, who was in danger of falling asleep, and as a consequence, of falling off the wagon.
He settled the little girl in his arms and carried her toward the front of the next wagon, where Rand met him with a canvas sack in his hand.
“Put Eliza up there on the seat. Thank you, boy. Here. I’ll pay you now, in case your pa decides to take off in the night.” He handed Carl the sack. “One hundred and fifty dollars.”
Carl hefted the sack. “Seems a mite much just for driving a wagon.”
“Take it, boy. I promised you a good wage. I’ll make plenty off the goods.”
Carl thanked him and went to the wagon to help Ida. He stood on a wheel spoke and took her hand. “Your pa paid me a hundred and fifty dollars, girl! I’m going to build us a fine house.”
“With a fine feather bed?” She arched her brows and stood up.
“Don’t tease me. A man’s got only so much he can stand.” He dropped to the ground from the wheel.
“I know,” she answered. “Get me down from here.”
“I don’t know as I dare.”
“Silly boy. I won’t hurt you.”
“I don’t reckon you will. It’s your pa I worry about.”
“Papa?”
“If he sees me hugging you, I’ll be in a fine jam.”
“Will that get us wed sooner?”
“Ida! We need a house first. Now, are you going to behave yourself, or do I leave you up there all night?”
She looked from side to side, bent her head and closed her eyes, then opened her eyes and gazed at Carl. “I really can get down by myself, you know.”
“I know. You done it before when you was mad at me.”
She wiggled her shoulders at him. “But it’s nicer when you lift me down.”
He groaned. “Is this the good-bye you want?”
“Just a little peck, so I’ll know you’re coming back to visit.”
“One little peck then.” He stuffed the sack into his trousers pocket, reached up his arms for her, and she extended hers, laying her hands on his shoulders.
“You’ve got such a nice frame, Carl Owen,” she murmured as he set her on the ground. “So strong. And you’re so fine looking, too.” She passed her fingers over his cheek. “Now, where’s my peck?” She put back her head, lifting her lips to where he could reach them.
He gave her a chaste kiss, but it wasn’t enough, not for Ida. “Please, show me you’ll come for me,” she breathed, and he took her into his arms.
He didn’t mean to linger, but she was so warm in his arms, and so eager, so willing to receive his embrace. His lips covered hers again, and he pretended it was auburn hair slipping through his fingers.
“Doggone you, girl,” he muttered when he finally broke free. “I’ll visit when I can. Your pa will come looking for you in a minute. Good-bye.” He loosed her and stepped back. And you ain’t Ellen Bates, he thought, wondering if she would always be in his thoughts when he kissed Ida. Carl turned away and went to find his family, trying to shake the mood.
“Pa,” he said when he saw Rod. “Rand Hilbrands paid me. I’ll buy supper for us tonight.”
“Sure. Let’s see what Colorado folks eat.”
Rod and Carl led the Owen family into the lobby and common room of the hotel. The appearance of the inn was rustic, for the chairs and stools were made of unpeeled pine logs and rawhide. A door led off to the right, where the aroma of meat drifted on the air. Another door, to the left, opened into the barroom, already crowded in the first hours of weekend freedom.
As Carl glanced around the lobby, Rand brought his family into the hotel. The Owens and the Hilbrands filled the lobby, and the dark-haired man at the desk looked angrily over at them.
“I can’t put ye all up for the night,” he growled. “I’ve got lots of folks in for the weekend, and I’m nearly full up.”
Rand approached the desk. “I’ll be wanting a room for my girls and a room for the wife and me.”
“The best I can do ye is one room, but it’s big and has plenty of room for spreading quilts and such. Ye can all fit in.”
“This seems a poor excuse for a hotel, if you can’t find rooms for your guests,” Rand blustered.
The proprietor planted his feet on the floor and placed his fists on his hips. “This ain’t your Grand Hotel, mister, and I don’t believe ye made arrangements beforehand, neither. I gives ye what I has to give. If ye can do better than that, buy me out and I’ll be off to the gold fields!”