Unconquerable Callie

by DeAnn Smallwood

  Several hours later, Henry Henry hollered at the sighting of Chimney Rock rising up in the distance. But the closer they got to the rock, the farther away it appeared, teasing them, enticing them to come close, then, like a shy maiden, retreating out of reach. Although the air was thin, several had made plans for the climb tomorrow, and everyone looked forward to a day of rest. The worry of the route, through what some referred to as Devil’s Gap, made them dread moving on and reaching Scott’s Bluff.

  They circled the wagons for the night and around each camp the talk was of Robidoux Pass or the windy howling gap as a route. Onnie had been busy planting the seeds of doubt. While few believed anything the swaggering man said, there were a handful of complainers looking for any excuse to find fault. Still, Seth was popular as a leader, well respected and trusted. If he said the gap was the best route, then the gap it would be. Meanwhile, they’d learned to put worries aside and enjoy anytime they could to relax and be lighthearted.

  Seth kept to himself that night. Callie was relieved. She didn’t know what to make of this morning, or how to act around this enigmatic man.

  Early the next morning, before the heat of the day sapped strength, she, Jacob, and Caleb joined others in climbing the formidable rock. Proudly, they carved their names in the hard stone. Seth and Henry Henry wasn’t part of the group, deciding to scout the trail beyond Chimney Rock.

  That evening found the exhausted climbers gathered at the Monroe’s camp. Seth acted as if the tender morning kiss hadn’t happened. Taking her cue from him, she related her and Caleb’s climb and teasing Caleb unmercifully, embellishing on how she’d let him climb higher than her just so he could save face. Teasing and joking along with generous portions of bread pudding made it a pleasant evening. Tomorrow would be another day of endless travel.

  “Caleb,” Seth said, “would you mind going to each camp and letting everyone know I’d like to have a general meeting tonight? I’d like everyone that can attend.”

  “Something the matter, Seth?” Callie asked.

  “No. And I don’t want it to be. We’re going to head off anything. Phyllis,” he said, rising to his feet, “I thank you for the wonderful meal. Seems I’m always beholden to you for your hospitality.”

  “Seth, you know you and Henry Henry are always welcome. Our pot stays full and it’s largely due to you two.”

  Callie met his gaze for a long moment, before he turned away. “I’ll see all of you later, at the meeting.”

  Henry Henry followed him, leaving silence behind.

  “Wonder what that’s all about?” Jacob asked.

  Callie shrugged and began pouring water into the dishpan, anxious to get to the meeting and find out what was putting the worried furrows in Seth’s brow.

  Once they were all gathered for the meeting, he didn’t keep them in suspense. He cleared his throat, and the talking died to a few mumbles.

  “Thank you for coming. Hope you all had a nice day of rest and climbing.”

  His words were greeted by nods and smiles.

  “I’ve called this meeting because I have something grave to tell you.” Worried murmurs reverberated throughout the crowd. “Henry Henry and I rode out early this morning to scout the trail ahead. It’s nothing more than what we’ve been through.”

  “Until you come to the gap,” Onnie Simple interjected.

  Heads turned in his direction. He plucked his stubby fingers at his suspenders and puffed out with importance.

  “We’ll get into that later, Onnie,” Seth said. “Right now we have another problem that we need to head off.” A quiet wind of apprehensive whispers followed.

  Callie shifted on the suddenly hard ground. What now?

  “Cholera.”

  Callie closed her eyes and tried to steady her breathing. She’d never seen anyone with cholera, but she’d heard about this dreaded illness. Helplessness filled her at the seemingly endless challenges this trail could place in their path.

  “Just a minute, McCallister. What do you mean Cholera? Ain’t no one sick. You ain’t got no right to be scaring good folks just to make yourself—”

  “Onnie, shut up!” Henry called out. “Go on, Seth.”

  “I’ll tell you all I know. It isn’t much. No one seems to know a lot about cholera except it’s thought to come about from water—dirty water. So far our streams have appeared clear. But up ahead, Henry and I found several brackish and smelly streams.” He held up his hand to still the rising murmurs. “Look, I’m not saying the water is full of cholera. But what I am saying is until we reach Wyoming, primarily Fort Laramie, we’ll boil every drop of water we drink. Children and older folks are the most susceptible. For some reason, the water around Fort Laramie is good, with no threat. It’s been said the streams are faster moving in Wyoming, so maybe that’s the reason.”

  “What are the symptoms? How do we know we got it?” A father held his small son’s hand.

  Instead of answering the question, Seth asked, “Miz Franklin, you in this group?”

  “Right here.” She stepped to the front.

  “Have you seen Cholera?”

  “I have. Seen it and treated it. Lost a little girl to it.”

  “Would you mind taking the ladies aside and going through the symptoms? Sounds better coming from another woman.”

  “Be glad to.”

  “Thank you. If the men will stay, I’ll talk symptoms with you. But don’t walk off just yet, ladies,” he said. “We’re all clear that from this moment on that we boil our water?” He waited until everyone nodded.

  Callie and the other women started to get to their feet, but paused at Seth’s next words.

  “Okay. Now, Onnie Sample has brought up our route. I’m sure he’s been conscientious in letting everyone know his point of view.”

  Heads nodded and grins broke out. Onnie had been strutting around like a rooster making sure everyone heard his crowing.

  “In a few days, we’ll be at another landmark I set my sights on. Scotts Bluff. Onnie’s right, there is a trail going around the bluff.”

  “Told ya.” Onnie snickered.

  Seth went on, “It’s an okay trail. Been used a lot in the past. I’ve used it a time or two myself. But it’s the long way around, known as Robidoux Pass. We’re not taking it. We’re going through the bluff.” He waited before going on, letting people voice their opinion amongst themselves. After a few minutes, he held his hand up for silence.

  “I’m not going to stand here and tell you this gap is without its problems. It can be treacherous and difficult. And, as I’m sure you’ve heard, there’s winds that come howlin’ through the gap. Strong winds. But,” and he emphasized the word, “it’s shorter. I took that route my last two trains and made it just fine. Folks, I wouldn’t make this decision if I thought it wrong. I plan to be at Independence Rock by the fourth of July.”

  A cheer went up from the crowd.

  “I don’t plan on taking a risk on not making Oregon before snow fall. We can’t and we won’t. We’re taking the shorter route. Any questions?”

  “And if we don’t agree? Onnie asked belligerently.

  “Well, Onnie. That would be your choice. You can go whichever way you want. But as long as I’m captain of this train, we’ll go my way.”

  The silence could be cut with a knife. Onnie glared at Seth and started to challenge him. But the look on Seth’s face stopped the words in his mouth. He turned on his heel and, muttering curses, stomped off.

  There were no more questions and the crowd broke up into two groups. Seth knew he would have to keep an eye on Onnie Simple. But in the meantime, he had good, trusting people to watch out for. People who looked to him for wisdom and guidance.

  Chapter 34

  The next few days passed uneventfully, with each one bringing t
hem closer to Scotts Bluff. Seth came by for his morning coffee, but there was no repeat of that magical kiss. He always had a reason for not being able to stay more than a few minutes, and the minutes he did spend in her company seemed guarded. She missed the easy flow that had existed between them.

  On a trail that was endless and exhausting, everyone longed for the end, but Callie dreaded each mile that brought them closer to South Pass City. Constantly she asked herself the same question, How will I endure seeing Seth ride off, knowing I’ll never see this extraordinary man again? Over and over, she rehearsed, in her mind, confessing her lies and half-truths. And, over and over, she imagined his face, filling with disgust and loathing, for the way she’d misled him and everyone else. She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t take the risk of him hating her. Still, she replayed the scenario again and again. Nights were the worse and sleep eluded her. Tired beyond belief, she walked around with a feeling of impending doom hanging over her like a cold river fog.

  The days did pass, though. And when Callie first saw the bluffs looming before them, bursting with lofty majesty, she knew she would never forget their grandeur. The wagons circled at the base and people milled about, whispering over the awesome scenery. A church-like reverence punctuated each description of the formations. But while people were awed, many were intimidated by the splendor and voiced their worries about traversing through the gap.

  Seth was everywhere that evening, a calming influence. His words of confidence and encouragement brought smiles and ease to worried faces. Callie filled with pride at how this one man was able to soothe, inspire, and lead. They would be moving out early tomorrow morning, taking on whatever the pass could throw at them.

  She was lifting yet another pot of boiling drinking water from the campfire when a shot rang out through the camp. Heart pounding, she threw the lifting rag to the ground and raced in the direction of the sound. The closer she got sounds of raised voices and shouting reached her. Her mouth went dry. A premonition of overwhelming grief washed over her, as she pushed her way through a group of men surrounding a small boy. The child held a rifle and looked down at the sprawled figure of a man, his head bloody, his eyes closed. There was no sign of life in the inert form.

  Callie watched the boy gulping back tears and sobs. Then she studied the prone figure.

  Seth.

  From a distance, she heard someone screaming then realized the sound came from her own throat as she stumbled forward and fell to her knees beside him.

  “Seth,” she cried. “No. Oh, Seth. No.”

  “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do it. I was just playing I was hunting.” The boy choked out the words.

  Callie cradled Seth’s head in her lap, her hands sticky with his warm blood. She looked up with grief-stricken eyes as Henry Henry and Jacob pushed through the crowd.

  “Callie, you move aside now and let me have a look see. Caleb, you get this boy to his parents. Phyllis, help Callie.” Jacob barked orders out to the stunned group. “Someone get Miz Franklin. Hurry.”

  “I’m not moving, Jacob. Don’t ask me to.” Callie’s voice was hoarse and unchecked tears rolled down her face. “Is he . . . Is he—?”

  “No.” Henry bellowed. “He’s not. He’s still breathin’.” He leaned closer to Seth’s body. “Seth, durn it. You hang tough. We still got this trail to ride.” The man’s voice broke.

  “You, there. Step aside and let me through.” Mrs. Franklin’s plump body broke through the crowd. She knelt down and with gentle hands turned Seth’s head to the side. “Get me a clean cloth so I can see what damage’s been done.” In a matter of seconds, several clean rags were thrust at her. Gently, she dabbed at the blood still flowing from his forehead, down his cheeks, and onto his shirt.

  Callie watched, holding her breath, hurting with every dab of the cloth. He was so still, so very still and pale. She swallowed hard. Henry had said Seth was alive. Henry had said he was still breathing. She would hang onto those precious words, holding them tightly to her because she wouldn’t, couldn’t, allow her mind to run wild with any other possibility. Seth was alive. Hurt, but alive. With trembling fingers, she brushed his hair, tipped red with his blood, back from his eyes.

  Breathing as if one, everyone silently waited for Mrs. Franklin to finish her examination.

  Agonizing minutes later, she glanced over at Callie and gave her a faint smile.

  “Grazed his head, it did.” She shook her head. “Few more inches, and, well, we won’t dwell on that.” She sniffed. “Head wounds bleed like the dickens and that’s good. Washes them right out. He’s hurt, but he’ll make it.”

  A collective sigh passed through the crowd. To lose Seth would be to not only lose their leader, but someone many called friend.

  “Believe we best move him,” Mrs. Franklin said.

  “Take him to my wagon,” Callie said quietly.

  “Well now, lass, that’s not such a good idea, you being a lone woman and all,” Mrs. Franklin said.

  “My wagon,” Callie reiterated firmly. “I’ve got the most room. Jacob—” She looked imploringly at the man.

  Jacob nodded. “Need a couple more strong backs here,” he called out.

  Several men pushed forward, eager to help in any way.

  “You and you, pick up his legs. Callie, you hold his head and Henry and I will take his arms. Easy, now. Miz Franklin, we’d be grateful for any help you can give us. Phyllis will help, too.” He looked over at his wife, her eyes wide in a too-white face. “Phyllis, are you okay?” Immediate concern etched his words.

  “Oh, yes. Of course, Jacob. I just—”

  Jacob’s didn’t wait for her explanation. His attention returned to Seth and the men carefully lifting his body.

  “Steady now. Don’t jar him more’n you have to,” Henry warned.

  “I’ll take his head, Callie.” Mrs. Franklin nudged her. “You run on ahead and get a pallet ready.”

  Callie didn’t want to release her hold on Seth. Holding him meant he was alive. She couldn’t let go.

  “Callie.” Mrs. Franklin’s voice penetrated the fog surrounding her. “You go on now. The sooner we get him settled the better. He’s going to have a headache to beat all when he comes to. I want him still and settled before that.”

  Callie knew she was right, but that didn’t make letting someone else take her place any easier.

  Phyllis took her arm. “I’ll help.” With those two words, she urged Callie forward.

  Stumbling, Callie hurried to her wagon. It was as if a lifetime had passed since she had just finished boiling tomorrow’s drinking water and heard the gunshot.

  The two women worked quickly, moving barrels and shoving stacks of supplies to the front of the wagon, enlarging Callie’s small sleeping space to make room for Seth’s bigger body.

  The sound of footsteps drew closer as the men carrying Seth’s body arrived. The back flap flew up and Mrs. Franklin grunted her way through the opening.

  “Easy,” she ordered, backing ahead of the men and skirting the pallet.

  “Callie, I’ll need me some more clean rags and hot water. We got to clean that wound and it’s best done while he’s out. Jacob, sent that boy of yours to my wagon. Tell my oldest girl to give him my medicine satchel. I got salve in there that stinks to the high heavens, but it’ll heal most anything. Now, the rest of you back on outta here. I need space to work. Callie. The rags and hot water.” There was no doubt who was in charge. Everyone scuttled to do Mrs. Franklin’s bidding.

  Callie stole a quick glance at Seth’s still face. She didn’t know much about wounds, but what she saw scared her. How could anyone live after losing that much blood?

  Seth’s wound was cleaned, and as the bleeding slowed, Callie could better see the red furrow where the bullet had plowed across his head. Her stomach
clenched as she turned away. She realized how close he had come to death.

  Finally, salve applied and bandage in place, Mrs. Franklin settled herself in for the night. Phyllis left with Jacob and returned with a cold supper. Callie couldn’t eat hers, but Mrs. Franklin had no trouble. Seth hadn’t regained consciousness and the broth Phyllis had made for him remained untouched.

  Mrs. Franklin tried to send Callie away with Phyllis.

  “No sense in two of us bein’ uncomfortable. I aim to be here should he wake up. You go on to the Monroe’s now.”

  “Mrs. Franklin, I appreciate you. I really do. You’ve been a godsend for Seth, and a doctor for the entire train. He couldn’t be in better hands.” Mrs. Franklin puffed up at the words. “But . . . I can’t leave. Should he wake up or,” her voice weakened, “take a turn for the worse, I have to be close. Don’t you see?”

  “Nope, young lady, can’t say as I do.” She peered suspiciously at Callie’s worried face. “You’re actin’ as if Seth McCallister were your man. My understandin’ is you’ve got a fiancé waiting for you in Oregon. Ain’t that so?”

  Callie gulped. She was tired of lying, tired of hiding the truth. “Uh, you see, Seth’s a friend. I know he’s not my man, as you said, but . . . but I care for him,” she faltered, “like a-like a brother.” She finished lamely, not daring to meet the eyes of the woman.

  “A brother, huh? Well I don’t know about that. I do know you ain’t much older than my oldest girl and I sure wouldn’t allow her to spend the night with a strange man.”

  The woman gave a self-righteous sniff and settled herself deeper into the quilt Callie had provided.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Franklin,” Callie said, hoping to appease the woman. “My aunt raised me the same way. However, Seth isn’t a strange man and here I’ll stay.”

  “Well, I’m not surprised,” Mrs. Franklin muttered to herself. “Cuttin’ your hair, wearin’ men’s clothes, ridin’ like a man. Hmmpf.” She crossed her arms across her ample chest and closed her eyes in disapproval. Within minutes her snoring shook the wagon.