A Big Sky Christmas (6 page)

 

 

And so it had been ever since, until even she thought of herself by that name, through performances in countless towns and in Kansas City as the troupe ran through its dress rehearsal before the opening performance, which was the next night.

She had been lucky. That hotel in Nashville had catered to the theatrical trade, and the O'Hanlon Traveling Company was staying there, too. Cyrus and Dollie had gone out to eat and had been returning to the hotel when she literally ran into them.

She'd gone with them to the troupe's performance that night and been welcomed by all the members of the company. Cyrus liked to say that they were like a family and he was the paterfamilias, and it was true. Romantic notion or not, Savannah felt like she had found a home with them.

She couldn't imagine anything changing that, at least not any time soon.

It would take a new twist of fate, a new rendezvous with destiny, to do that.

She figured she was through with such things.

Jamie went back to the hardware store where he had left Sundown and the pack horse tied to the hitch rack. Nobody had bothered the animals, which came as no surprise to him. When anybody but Jamie approached the big sand-colored stallion, Sundown got proddy. Any time he bared his teeth and started moving around skittishly, folks tended to make a wide circle around him.

“That's an impressive-looking horse,” Moses Danzig said as he looked at Sundown with admiration.

“He's mean as all get out,” Jamie said bluntly. “But he'll run all day if he has to. Run until his heart busts if that's what it takes. He's got as much grit as any horse I've ever seen.” He handed the pack horse's reins to Moses. “Here, you can lead this one. He won't give you any trouble.”

They headed for the open area where the immigrants were camped. As they approached, Jamie heard loud, boisterous music. It sounded like several fiddlers were scraping their bows across the strings of their instruments with great enthusiasm, if not a great deal of talent, and the lively tune made Jamie's blood perk up. He had always enjoyed dancing, although he hadn't done any in quite some time.

Not since before Kate died, actually.

He put that thought out of his mind and watched the couples spinning and whirling around near the big campfire in the center of the area between the circled wagons. People who weren't dancing had gathered around to watch, too. They clapped in time to the music and called out encouragement to the dancers.

Not everybody seemed to be enjoying themselves, though. Jamie noticed one man standing off to the side with a glare of disapproval on his stern face. He was tall and heavily built, with a barrel chest and prematurely white hair that grew in a tangle on his head. He wore a sober black suit, and his big hands rested on the shoulders of two children who stood with him—a boy and a girl about ten years old. Jamie looked closer at the resemblance between the youngsters and realized they were twins.

Jamie turned to Moses and nodded toward the glowering man. “Who's that? Not your wagon captain, I hope.”

“No, certainly not. That's Reverend Bradford. He's on his way to Montana, too, with his children. I'm afraid he doesn't approve of the dancing and has made that clear to Captain Hendricks. He says it's sinful for men and women to cavort around together like heathens. But the captain thinks it's good for the group's spirits to have these little celebrations of life from time to time.”

“Is that what they're celebrating? Just life in general, nothing in particular?”

“Well, in this case,” Moses explained, “there's another reason. There was a wedding earlier today. R.G. Hamilton married Alice Dennison. R.G. is one of the single men traveling west—or at least he was—and Alice is the daughter of one of the immigrant families. They're a fine couple and an excellent match, and everyone is happy about it.”

“Except that fella Bradford,” Jamie said with another nod toward the preacher.

“Oh, he doesn't mind the marriage. Actually, he performed the wedding ceremony. He just doesn't like dancing . . . among other things.”

From the sound of that comment, Jamie thought that Moses didn't get along very well with Reverend Bradford. He didn't pursue that question, however, since it was none of his business.

As the three fiddlers—two whiskery old-timers and a skinny, gangling man who was much younger—came to the end of the merry tune they had been playing, people laughed and applauded. One couple seemed to be at the center of the dancers, and Jamie ventured a guess that they were the ones who'd gotten hitched earlier.

Moses confirmed it, then pointed out the wagon train captain. “There's Captain Hendricks.” As the musicians took a break and the immigrants began to mill around and talk he nodded in Hendricks's direction. “Come on, I'll introduce you.”

Lamar Hendricks was a tall, fair-haired man with a rawboned, middle-aged face under a broad-brimmed brown hat. He wore a brown leather vest over a homespun shirt. As the two men approached him, he said, “There you are, Moses. I was starting to wonder what had happened to you. Where's Mr. Ralston?”

“That's an, um, interesting story, Captain,” Moses replied. “By the way, this is Jamie Ian MacCallister. He's quite a famous frontiersman.”

Hendricks grunted. “Is that so?” Obviously, he hadn't heard of Jamie. He held out a hand. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. MacCallister.”

“You, too, Captain,” Jamie replied with a nod as they shook hands.

Hendricks turned back to Moses. “Were you not able to find Mr. Ralston?”

“Oh, I found him, all right. But there's been . . . an accident. Mr. Ralston is injured.”

A look of alarm instantly appeared on Hendricks's face. “An accident? What sort of accident?”

Moses looked pretty uncomfortable at the prospect of answering that question, so Jamie saved him the trouble. “I broke the varmint's leg.”

Hendricks's eyes widened in surprise. “Why in the world would you do something like that?”

“Because he was trying to do the same or worse to me.”

Moses said, “Mr. Ralston attacked Mr. MacCallister, Captain. I found him in that saloon he frequented, just as I feared I might. He had been drinking heavily. When Mr. MacCallister disagreed with him about something, Mr. Ralston started a fight. I saw the whole thing. Mr. MacCallister was only defending himself. He didn't do anything wrong.”

“Well, maybe not,” Hendricks said with a frown, “but don't expect me to be happy about what you did, MacCallister. We were counting on Jeb Ralston to get us to our new homes in Montana.”

“Then you were counting on a drunken bully,” Jamie said, not mincing words.

Hendricks controlled his anger with a visible effort. “You'll have to excuse me. I need to start figuring out what we're going to do now. We have to find another wagon master as quickly as possible.”

“You see, that's just it, Captain,” Moses told him. “I've asked Mr. MacCallister if he would consider guiding us to Montana Territory.”

Hendricks looked surprised again, and still angry. “You had no right to do that, Moses. I'm the captain of this wagon train. We need an experienced guide—”

“Ask around town,” Moses suggested. “Mr. MacCallister is a famous frontiersman, much more well known and respected than Mr. Ralston. And probably much more capable of leading the wagon train to Montana, I suspect.”

“No offense, MacCallister,” Hendricks said grudgingly. “I'm not aware of your reputation.”

“I never asked for a reputation,” Jamie said. “Just to be left alone to live my life. But I don't control what folks say about me. I can tell you one thing—setting out for Montana this late in the year is a mighty foolish thing to do, and I'd bet this old hat of mine on that.”

“We have no choice.” Hendricks's voice was as stiff as his back seemed to be. “We can't afford to wait for spring. Besides . . . I promised everyone that we'd be in our new homes in Eagle Valley by Christmas.”

“Maybe you shouldn't make promises you can't deliver.”

The air of tension between the two men was thick. Moses stepped in. “In your opinion, Mr. MacCallister, what would it take for us to reach our destination in time?”

“Well, you'd have to leave pretty quick,” Jamie said. “First thing tomorrow morning, if you can.”

Hendricks shook his head. “That's impossible. It'll take at least another day to finish making repairs on our wagons.”

“Day after tomorrow, then,” Jamie said. “And you may wish later on you had that extra day back.”

“What else?” Moses asked.

Jamie's eyes narrowed in thought. “You'd have to push hard, and I'm talking about livestock and human folks as well. The days on the trail would be mighty long ones, from as soon as it's light enough to see in the morning until it's too dark to go on. Under normal circumstances, you could afford to stop and lay over for a few days every now and then, mainly to give the stock some time to rest. If you leave now, you can't risk doing that. You'll have to push on every day without any breaks. By the time you get there, your teams will be worn down to a nub . . . and so will most of your people.”

“But we could do all that if we have to,” Moses insisted. “Couldn't we, Captain Hendricks?”

“We'll do whatever's necessary,” Hendricks said with a curt nod. “We all knew when we started out that there would be hardships along the way.”

Jamie said, “You'd need plenty of luck, too. Luck that you don't run into any Indian trouble, and that the weather cooperates. That last is the main thing. Winter would have to hold off, at least the worst of it. Where you're going, nothing will kill you quicker than a Great Plains blizzard.”

“We have faith,” Hendricks said. “The Good Lord watches over us.”

“He'd have to, for you to have a chance of getting there.”

Moses turned to Jamie. “But you could do it,” he insisted. “With God's help, of course. You could make all those things happen and lead us to Montana.”

“I can't do anything about the weather,” Jamie said.

“But if it did get bad, you could tell us what we need to do to survive. And then when conditions improved, we could move on again.”

“It would depend on how bad things got”—Jamie's brawny shoulders rose and fell—“but yeah, maybe. If anybody could get you through, I reckon I can.”

“Then it's settled, right?” Moses said eagerly. “Mr. MacCallister has the job, Captain?”

Hendricks peered at Jamie. “Do you
want
the job, MacCallister?”

“Not particularly,” Jamie replied, being honest as always. “But this young fella tells me that you'll be setting out for Montana Territory anyway, whether I go with you or not.”

“That's true. We don't have any choice.”

“And I can't stand by and wind up with the lives of . . . how many in your bunch?”

“Two hundred and seventeen souls, Mr. MacCallister. Men, women, and children.”

“I won't have the lives of that many people thrown away if there's anything I can do about it. I'll take you to Montana.”

There. It was done. His earlier idea of paying for them to stay in Kansas City until spring and then set out on their journey was forgotten, and he had a pretty good idea why he had discarded it. Jamie Ian MacCallister wasn't a vain man, but he was a proud one, and Moses had played on his pride in a shrewd manner. That one was plenty smart.

“It's settled, then,” Moses said again. “You can put your horses with our stock, since you're one of us now. Isn't that right, Captain?”

“Yeah, I reckon,” Hendricks said, still not completely convinced it was a good idea. Apparently he was going to make the best of it, though. “Then I'll introduce you around. People will need to know what's happened.”

After taking that short break, the musicians were starting up again. The strains of their new tune filled the night air. Jamie felt one of his booted toes begin to tap slightly in time to the music. It would be a long, hard trail to Montana, he thought, and these pilgrims had no real idea of what they were facing.

Let them enjoy what time they had left, before they set out on what might be a trail to disaster.