Unconquerable Callie (13 page)

Callie felt rooted to one spot as she absently brought the silver braid around to the front of her shoulder. Her stubbornness had gotten them into this mess and because of her reluctance to wear a bonnet, as Seth had advised and warned, they were now in serious jeopardy of being attacked and killed.

She looked across the short distance to where Seth argued for her life and for the others on the train. He wouldn’t sacrifice her no matter what. She also knew that Henry Henry wasn’t exaggerating when he said the Indians would attack if the chief didn’t get his way. If he didn’t get her. Her stomach lurched. She turned away from the frightening scene and disappeared into her wagon.

Minutes later, she reappeared, her mouth set in a firm line. Her head held high, her shoulders back, her bonnet tied firmly in place. She determinedly strode across the field, not toward Seth or Henry Henry, but in a direct line to Wolf Dog.

Seth caught sight of her only when she brushed past him. His curse rang out loud and clear in the charged air. Wolf Dog turned his eyes from Seth and with a stoic expression, he watched as she approached.

“Callie,” Seth ground out her name between clenched teeth, “get back.”

He lightly touched his horse’s flanks and it advanced forward to intercept her. The braves guarding Wolf Dog moved in closer, their faces fixed in fierce scowls.

Wolf Dog jerked his lance and their movement stopped. He nudged his horse with his knees and the horse took a few steps toward Callie.

“Seth,” Callie said quietly, “don’t you dare interfere. I know what I’m doing and if you stop me, I’ll never forgive you.”

“Damn,” Seth muttered, “you don’t know what you’re doing. Callie, I order you to . . .” Before he could finish the sentence or close the gap between them, Callie stood by Wolf Dog’s horse, looking up at the warrior’s cold, unwavering gaze.

Seth reached for his rifle, then stopped short. Callie was in the direct line of fire. There was no way he could shoot without hitting her. His mouth cotton dry, he helplessly watched her place herself in what could only result in her captivity or death. Of the two, death would be preferable. Wolf Dog may want Callie because of her hair’s big medicine, but Seth knew that Callie would suffer much before she would break to the demands of the Indian chief. Pride in this fearless woman filled him, along with the agony of what he was helpless to prevent.

He lowered his head, then glanced over at Henry Henry. Their eyes met and the unspoken message was clear. No matter what, Callie must not be taken captive by Wolf Dog.

Seth gently and slowly started to raise his rifle, his finger curling around the trigger. He had one chance to stop Wolf Dog from sweeping Callie up behind him and galloping back to the rest of his braves. He’d fire two shots. One wounding Callie and knocking her out of the way and the second would be for Wolf Dog. As much as he hated to take the proud chief’s life, he had an obligation to protect the train and an obligation to protect that precious, stubborn woman so willing to sacrifice herself.

Just as he was ready to snap the rifle into firing position, Callie’s voice rang out.

Seth froze.

“Wolf Dog, Chief of the Oglala Sioux, I am honored by your offer. But I would not make you a good wife.” She rushed on, not letting the scowl on the man’s face stop her. She had to get the words out and pray that Wolf Dog understood her. Her pulse pounded in her throat and her mouth was so dry she had to swallow before continuing. Something in her told her that she could not show fear. She looked Wolf Dog in the eyes, giving every appearance of strength and unflinching courage she could muster.

“Yes, my hair is powerful and will give you strong medicine. But you do not need to be burdened with this white woman’s weakness to have that power.” With that, her hand delved into her skirt pocket and removed the tightly bound braid that only a few minutes ago had rested heavy and gloriously down her back. With her other hand, she deftly untied the bonnet ribbons and removed it from her head. She stood there, head held high. Her remaining hair was chopped short at her neckline.

Callie offered her trophy to the unmoving chief. “Please. I want you to have my hair. I give you this power and know you will use it wisely.”

Wolf Dog made no move. His dark eyes bored into hers, his mouth unsmiling, his body stiff and unbending.

Quiet roared into Callie’s ears as the air danced with danger. The sun seemed to stop in the sky and the prairie held its breath. Her arm felt as though it would break in two as she held it steady, heavy with its offering.

Just as she thought she could no longer keep her arm from trembling, Wolf Dog lowered his lance, laying it across his lap, and reached forward. Bending over at the waist, eyes unblinking, his long fingers curled around the braid. He brought it to him, his thumb reverently stroking its silky whiteness.

“White Cloud Woman.” Wolf Dog’s voice was strident. Something akin to admiration danced in his eyes and, without saying another word, he gave her a nod and turned back to the braves.

Callie marched past Seth and Henry Henry, her eyes fixed straight ahead, chin up, bonnet clutched in her hand. She strode to her wagon, knowing that if she didn’t reach its sanctuary soon, she’d collapse.

Seth and Henry Henry sat quietly in their saddles watching the Indians disappear as silently as they’d arrived. Then slowly, they walked their horses back to the wagons. Seth paused outside of Callie’s wagon. The canvas pulled tight across the entrance. Anything he could say would be inadequate.

“We’ll make dry camp here for the night,” he said loud enough for her to hear. “Henry, spread the word.”

That night, the fires burned higher as if adding more wood would dispel the close call they had experienced. Callie’s name was on every tongue. But she didn’t join them around the campfires. The next morning her dinner plate, set outside the wagon by an understanding Phyllis, was picked up, food untouched.

When the camp stirred with dawn, Callie was up, dressed, and outside her wagon as though nothing unusual had happened, as if nothing was different about her appearance.

But, if anyone had been looking closely, they would have seen a wide grin cross her face at an object left hanging from her oxen’s yoke. It was a white, felt, man’s hat, its brim slightly shaped by its previous owner. Seth’s best, reserved for special occasions. Callie had seen him wear it once in town and knew he wouldn’t think of wearing it for every day. She picked it up and placed it on her head. It was too big and came down around her ears, but Callie knew that if she wrapped the inside with material torn from an old shirt it would fit fine. Just fine.

The sun rose and the wagons slowly moved forward. Callie walked beside the oxen, Caleb just the other side, prodding them along with his long stick. No one mentioned her hat and no one mentioned yesterday. It was as if the day had been skipped, erased from their memories. But not from hers. It would never be erased from hers.

There were no signs of Indians, but rifles still rested in hands and across saddles. Everyone scanned the horizons and any sudden movement brought a quick reflex of alarm. When they stopped for a hurried noon meal, Seth was nowhere about. Callie felt sure he was scouting ahead of the train, watching for any sign of danger.

Once they were back on the trail, Seth rode in. Callie wasn’t sure how to greet him. She wouldn’t blame him if he was angry at her. She only hoped he’d understand and forgive her for placing them all at risk.

Gathering her courage, she started walking, planning on meeting him before he reached her wagon and Caleb’s listening ears. If she was going to get a dressing down, she wanted it to be as private as possible. She moved out ahead of her wagon to meet him midway. Suddenly, she stopped short. Seth was leading an eerily familiar horse. The beautiful paint mare held her head high, trotting alongside as if the world belonged to her. When Seth reined to a stop in front of Callie, the mare gave a toss of her head and pulled on the lead rope. Seth was grinning from ear-to-ear as he dismounted.

Callie stared at the confident mare, the horse Wolf Dog had offered as bride price for her. Had he changed his mind? Was he coming back for her? If so, why was Seth so darned happy about this dreadful situation?

“Found this little beauty down the trail, tied to a bush,” Seth said, as if his words explained everything. “A fine piece of horseflesh, Callie. She’ll do right by you.”

Callie found her voice. “Do right by me? Seth McCallister, stop grinning like you’re sun touched and explain what you’re doing with Wolf Dog’s horse.”

“Well, Callie,” he said slowly, “it appears she’s not Wolf Dogs any longer.”

“Seth, I don’t care where you found her. Take her back. We can’t risk the wrath of Wolf Dog and all his braves for a horse.”

“Can’t,” he replied laconically, enjoying her frustration. She’d put him through hell yesterday and, by his way of thinking, she deserved any grief he could hand out.

“Can’t?”

“Nope. Wouldn’t be polite. If you think Wolf Dog would appreciate your refusing his gift, then you’re badly mistaken. He’d see that as an insult, Callie.”

“His gift?” Her voice came out low, troubled. “I thought you said you found her tied to a bush.”

“I did. Wolf Dog must have seen me ride out this morning and knew what direction I was headed. She hadn’t been there long, more’n likely a few minutes. He was somewhere close by. She’s yours, Callie, yours as a sign of appreciation and acknowledgment for a woman of courage.”

“Courage?” She snuffed.

“It took courage to do what you did, Callie. I have to admit I was darn mad when you came strutting across that field, bonnet on your head. For a minute there, I thought you’d decided to sacrifice yourself to Wolf Dog to be his bride.”

Callie wouldn’t meet Seth’s eyes. “I thought of it,” she said softly. “If he hadn’t accepted my offering, I would have.”

Admiration filled Seth’s voice. “I thought as much. I wouldn’t have let you. In fact, I was just getting ready to shoot when you offered him your hair.”

“Shoot?”

He looked away, shaking his head. “I was going to wound you and when you fell, the next shot would be for Wolf Dog.”

“You were going to wound me?” Callie’s eyes were wide with horror. “You, Seth McCallister, were actually going to shoot me?”

“Now don’t get to riled. Just in the leg.”

“Oh. Only in the leg. What am I getting so ‘riled’ about? Just a leg wound. I fully understand.” Callie’s hands were on her hips and fire sparked from her eyes and her voice held the chill of death.

“You don’t understand,” Seth said patiently. “Wolf Dog may have wanted you for whatever power he thought was in your hair, but you would have been a white woman trying to stay alive in an Indian camp.” He lowered his voice. “You would have been no more than a slave. The women of the tribe would have seen to that.” He raised his head and looked fully at her. “I couldn’t let that happen to you, Callie. I’d of shot you first and prayed for a flesh wound and minimum pain.”

The silence stretched taut between them. Callie fought with the reasoning behind Seth’s words, though she fought with the fact that Seth would actually do her harm.

“You do realize that there would have been an attack following Wolf Dog’s death?” Callie asked, glaring at him.

“Yeah, I do. But it was gonna take strong action to prevent him from taking you.”

“Would you have killed him?” Callie had to ask.

Seth shuffled his feet. His answer came low and with a shake of his head. “No. I couldn’t blame him for wanting you.” A smile broke across his face. “He was willing to pay a bride’s price for you. So you take this little mare, Callie, and enjoy her. I’d say you earned her fair and square.”

With those words, Seth reached forward and gently took his hat from her head. Laugh wrinkles tightened around his eyes as he emitted a low whistle. “Whooee. Callie, Callie. Okay, turn around.”

Callie gave him a baleful look and did what he asked.

“Chopped it off pretty darn good.” Seth still smiled, but inside, he hurt for the loss of her beautiful hair. He knew Callie hurt, too, no matter how brave a front she was put on.

“Needs some trimming,” Seth said, as Callie slammed his hat back on her head.

“That’s a little difficult since I don’t have eyes in the back of my head to see what I’m doing.”

“Now Callie, no need to get hostile. I’ll trim it.”

“You?” Her voice was incredulous.

“Sure, why not? I trim my own hair when I can’t get to a barber.”

“Well,” Callie said, “you won’t trim mine.”

“Okay, then, who will? The way you’ve got that hat slammed down on your head, you must not want anyone seeing your, uh, your . . .” He hesitated, searching for the right words.

“My mess?” Callie interjected. “Go ahead, say it. I know I look a fright.”

“Actually, you look kinda cute.” Seth bit back a response when he saw Callie’s scowl. He put the mare’s rope in her hand and mounted his horse. He leaned over Patch’s neck and said, “I’ll be by tonight to talk to you about that little lady’s care. Wish I had an extra saddle. But she’s probably not broke to ride any way but bareback. Most Indian ponies are trained to respond to knee commands, so the rider has both hands free.” He wheeled his horse around and started to ride off, stopped, turned back in the saddle, and grinned. “When I come by, what say you have those scissors ready?”