The Last Ride of Caleb O'Toole (2 page)

BOOK: The Last Ride of Caleb O'Toole
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The murderous thieves returned fire, but then quickly regrouped and spurred their horses out of town, choosing to make off with their loot instead of risking it with this ferocious unknown enemy. The night swallowed them up as if they were never there. Brave little Tumble, determined to finish the job, took off in a barking fit after the horses.

Caleb held fast to Tilly as the stranger galloped to the Thatcher house. The rider sheathed his rifle and swung his leg over the stallion's neck all in one motion and hit the ground running. He leaped onto the porch, then into the house, which was now engulfed in a blazing fire. The man tried to beat back the flames and drag the Thatchers from the burning house, but it was useless. The flames grew all around him as he cradled Mr. Thatcher and put his ear to the old man's heart.

“There he is! He's over here!”

“He's robbin' the Thatchers!”

“That's him! Shot Jackson too!”

Caleb turned to see a half dozen angry men rushing down the street toward them, Deputy Foley in the lead. They drew their pistols and fired on the tall figure in the doorway. The stranger dove from the burning house to the porch and drew his Colt. He raked his hand over his gun, fan-firing as he leaped from the porch to the big black stallion. Foley hit the ground hard as his men scattered for cover behind the bushes and trees in the side yard of the house. As the mysterious rider spurred his horse, he then holstered his empty Colt and drew a smaller pistol, a Remington, from his boot. Like lightning he fired on the men, pinning them down. Caleb watched in amazement as the lone gunman held six men at bay. Foley and his men were no match for this man of war. They were forced to lie in cover.

Sheriff W. W. Winstead, Winchester in hand, suddenly emerged with two men from the alley on the other side of the house. No sooner did he raise his rifle to fire than the dark rider drew his Spencer rifle, spun in the saddle, and blasted the railing of the porch near the lawman's head. Sheriff Winstead's shot went wild as splinters from the shattered wood raked his face. Two more quick shots drove the Sheriff's men under the porch of the burning house. The huge black stallion, controlled only by the grip of the rider's knees, crashed into the bleeding, cursing Sheriff and sent him sprawling to the ground.

Caleb, his arms around a trembling Tilly, watched in awe as the dark rider twisted backward in his saddle and fired his Spencer rifle, spurring his horse out of town while laying down a barrage of cover fire.

Suddenly, all was quiet. The man had vanished. The Sheriff picked himself up, staggering from the collision with the stallion. Deputy Foley emerged along with the men from their hiding places. Caleb took Tilly from the cover of the big oak tree. Tumble was nowhere to be seen.

“You men!” barked the shaken Sheriff as he yanked a splinter from his bleeding face. “Get a bucket brigade ready.”

“No way we're saving Thatcher's house, Sheriff,” offered Deputy Foley.

“I ain't thinking about saving Thatcher's, it's the one next to it I'm worried about. Daniel, get William Torrey over at the telegraph office. Put out the word we got a murderer headin' north.”

“Sheriff!” Caleb called as he went to the Sheriff, Tilly in hand. “He didn't do it!”

“Lord, Caleb, what in tarnation are you doing? Going to get yourself killed out here!” growled Sheriff Winstead.

“But, he's not the one, Sheriff. There were these other…”

“No buts. You take Tilly on home now. Stay off the street. I mean it.” Sheriff Winstead bellowed as he grabbed one of the men. “You boys get those buckets goin'!”

Caleb was about to protest once more, but he gathered Tilly to him. A tremendous sadness suddenly entered his body, a feeling that washed over him like a dark nightmare.

Mother
.

Caleb's fifteen-year-old sister, Julie, ran out of the house as he neared home. He had carried little Tilly halfway across town and his arms ached from the effort. Caleb could see the pain in Julie's pretty face, the control she tried to muster as she reached out for Tilly. Her big blue eyes, caught in the firelight of a burning house, betrayed her.

“She's calling for us, Caleb,” Julie said, trying to put up a good front. “There isn't much time. She was hanging on 'til she saw you. Come, Tilly.”

Caleb let Julie take Tilly. He felt numb as they hurried toward their little house. The home used to hold so much happiness, but now his heart was breaking with the fear of what may be waiting for them inside.

***

Caleb stood by the bed as Julie dutifully and lovingly stroked their mother's hair and mopped her brow. She and Tilly had the same flowing golden hair his mother used to have. Once beautiful, his mother was a shell of her former self, exhausted from nursing their father while fighting the dreaded cholera herself. Day by day, she faded alongside her husband. Julie cared for her at her bedside while Caleb saw to the chores and the care and feeding of his horse, Dusty. He fought tears as he saw his mother's eyes flicker open. Where they used to be sparkling blue, now they were yellowish with fever. The lovely face that lit up the house with laughter and song was now shriveled with sickness.

“Children,” Mrs. O'Toole said in a whisper. “Come closer.”

“Yes, Mother,” Caleb said as he and Tilly went to her side.

“There isn't much time. They'll come and set fire to this house.”

“I won't let them. I'll get the rifle,” Caleb said defiantly.

“Listen to me carefully, children.” Mrs. O'Toole reached out weakly for her son. “Caleb, I need you to be strong. Like a big oak tree. You must be brave and never waver from the task I will ask you to do. Promise me.”

“Yes, Mother,” said Caleb as he choked back his tears.

“Hitch Dusty to the wagon. And Julie…”

“Yes, Mother?” said Julie as she mopped her mother's fevered face.

“You are a most special young woman now. Take care of your sister as I know you will. Gather all you can. You must leave Great Bend. No one in this town will take you with all the sickness.” Mrs. O'Toole burst into a coughing fit.

“A gang of thieves just killed the Thatchers,” said Caleb. “Jim Jackson too.”

“I saw!” cried Tilly as she snuggled into her mother's arms. “He was a dragon. His teeth were all black and he was breathing fire. He said he would find me and eat me.”

“She's scared,” said Caleb. “Those men nearly trampled her in the street.”

“Oh, come here, princess.” Mrs. O'Toole held Tilly close to her. Then she unfastened a dainty necklace from her neck. On the silver chain was a locket. “You wear this around your neck and I will always be with you. Right by your heart. See?” Mrs. O'Toole popped the locket. “You will always be safe. There's your father and me on this side. And who's that?”

“Me,” cried Tilly softly. “Julie and Caleb.”

“That's right. Julie, Caleb, this is what you must do.” She leveled her eyes at them, drawing on her last ounce of strength. “Go north to the Oregon Trail. Get on the Western train.”

“But, Mother,” exclaimed Julie. “We can't leave you.”

“You must. Folks here have lost their senses. Caleb,” she said as she pressed her son to her one last time, “over there…on the dresser. A letter from your Aunt Sarah in Montana Territory.”

Caleb went to the dresser and picked up the letter, his heart pounding.

“We've sent her a wire and a thousand dollars,” Mrs. O'Toole said weakly, gasping for air. “You must find Aunt Sarah. She has always agreed to take you in, should anything happen to your father and me. It's all in the letter. There's a little extra money in the jar in the kitchen to help along the way.” Caleb's mother suddenly shook with pain. After a few moments, she seemed to relax, as if she was resigned to dying.

“Mother, no!” cried Julie as she held her mother.

“Mommy! Mommy!” sobbed Tilly.

CRASH!
The sound of breaking glass rang out. Caleb went to the window. Through the smoke and the night, he saw several men brandishing torches a few houses down the street. He could hear Henry Kalbe's shrieking voice above the din. Shots rang out as the victims of Kalbe's insane mob tried to defend their house.

“Go, children. Hurry,” said Mrs. O'Toole weakly.

Caleb could no longer fight the sting of his tears as he held the letter in his hands. Julie looked over at Caleb, the depth of her sorrow pouring from her watering eyes. Tilly sobbed at her mother's breast.

“Where?” was all Julie could say. Caleb couldn't speak.

“Montana…the Bitterroot,” whispered Mrs. O'Toole. Then Caleb's mother closed her eyes and breathed her last.

***

Caleb raced to the barn to hitch up his faithful gray horse. Gunshots came from just a few houses away. Dusty nervously stomped and started as Caleb led him over to the buckboard. Kalbe and his mob were closing in. Caleb gave the leather strap a mighty tug as he cinched up Dusty's harness. His father's single-shot, fifty-caliber Sharps rifle leaned up against the barn. It was a breechloader and a good hunting rifle. Next to it was a Colt revolver and a few boxes of ammunition. He quickly carried them to the wagon. In the lantern's light, he caught his reflection in the window of the barn. He picked up the Sharps. Time seemed to stop. The heft of the big gun and the weight of his mother's dying wish filled him with fear and uncertainty. He knew little of his Aunt Sarah. It was a treacherous journey of over a thousand miles to her ranch in the rugged Bitterroot Mountains of Montana Territory. There were countless perils between Great Bend and the gold fields of Montana. Caleb took a deep breath. At least they might be safe once they reached the train in Kearney Junction. He thought if they could just make it there, they could ride the rails past the Indians, murderers, thieves, and other dangers that lay in wait along the Oregon Trail.

Julie came running from the house with an armload of supplies. “We've got enough food for a few days, a bit more if we stretch it. Some blankets, extra clothes,” she said bravely as she piled them into the buckboard. “And here are Father's maps from school. But there is so much; all the photographs and the books. Caleb, just to leave it all behind is…”

CRASH!
Kalbe and his men had arrived, shouting to the heavens as they threw their fiery torches into the front window of the O'Toole house.

“Out devil! Out evil!” Kalbe's reedy voice rang out.

“Satan be gone!” shouted another.

“Get Tilly!” urged Caleb as he tossed a hatchet and some rope onto the pile in the wagon.

“Tilly is still with Mother!” cried Julie as she ran back into the house. “Tilly!”

Caleb pulled back the hammer, slammed a shell into the breech of the Sharps, and crept around to the side of the house. His hands shook as he raised the big rifle to his shoulder. Henry Kalbe and his insane little mob had grown in size. Caleb counted a dozen hooded men, all armed with guns and torches. He knew that if he fired the Sharps, they would surely turn on him and he would perish in a hail of bullets. He carefully eased the hammer back as he lowered the rifle, then he ran back into the house after Tilly and Julie.

Caleb tore through the growing blaze to his mother's room. Julie was trying to pry the terrified little Tilly away from their poor departed mother.

“Tilly. Tilly, come!” Julie exclaimed.

“No!” cried Tilly as they managed to break her free. “I'm not leaving Mommy!” She kicked and screamed as Julie carried her down the smoke-filled hallway. Quickly, they bolted through the kitchen and out the back door. Caleb ran to untie Dusty from the fence. He climbed aboard the wagon and grabbed the reins. Julie carried little Tilly to the other side, pulled herself up, and sat by Caleb. Tilly buried her head in Julie's arms and sobbed.

Caleb glanced back at their once happy little home, the dream home that was now burning to the ground with their poor mother still inside. He looked at Julie's grief-stricken face.

“She's with Father, Caleb,” said Julie. Caleb saw something more than tears in his sister's eyes. She was tough. They both knew that even though they had lost nearly everything, they still had each other.

“Ya, Dusty!” yelled Caleb, giving the reins a shake. As they pulled away from the burning house and dashed down Main Street, Caleb heard the roar of gunfire and the shouts of the Sheriff and his men over the din. They raced along the bloodied streets of Great Bend, where killers and thieves had destroyed the lives of innocent and decent people. He turned Dusty hard to the road north. Caleb prayed the three of them would survive this flight into the hidden dangers of the unknown.

“Woof!” Make that four. Tumble ran furiously through the smoke, struggling to gain on Dusty and the wagon.

“Tumble!” Tilly shouted and clapped her hands for the little dog.

“Come on, boy!” yelled Julie as she climbed into the back of the buckboard.

Tumble, his four feet flying, emerged from the smoke and raced to keep up with them, determined not to be left behind.

“Tumble, up!” cried Julie. And up he went. He gave a great leap and landed with his front paws in the back as Julie helped pull him in, his little legs scrambling to hold on. Tilly climbed into the back and threw her arms around the feisty little dog. Tumble rewarded her with a fierce licking.

“Dusty! Go boy!” said Caleb as he gave the reins a mighty shake.

Dusty bolted forward. The buckboard shot Caleb and his sisters out of Great Bend for good.

BOOK: The Last Ride of Caleb O'Toole
11.01Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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