Unconquerable Callie (20 page)

The next morning, the wagon train pulled out. Once again, Callie raised her arm and the familiar, “Wagon’s Ho,” rang out in the early dawn. The cool mornings were much appreciated, as the temperature rose during the day. At night it dropped, and hands reached for a welcome quilt.

Soon the wagons would cross the South Platte River. From then on, they would follow the North Platte. They were entering Wyoming, and Callie felt a thrill of accomplishment. She was close to fulfilling her dream. Wyoming, where women were recognized as equals and valued in their own right. There, she would start her business. There, she would make a home, albeit a lonely one.

She rode ahead of the wagons, enjoying the solitude of this beautiful country, smiling to herself thinking of the folks who wouldn’t find it beautiful. Those who would fail to see the cactus in bloom, or the Indian Paintbrush bashfully crouching by the rocks and sagebrush, only to brazenly appear in large numbers, swaying in the winds that reigned over the barren land. They wouldn’t see the plains stretching for miles until, with a blue haze, it touched the base of the regal mountain range. And they wouldn’t see the antelope, with their prong horns, black noses, and curious demeanor. They wouldn’t see their babies running full stride beside long-legged mothers. What they would see, or feel, would be the bitter cold winters, the howling winds, and the empty aloneness.

They hadn’t gone very far when Callie came upon a sight that would haunt her for many a night.

Her horse saw it first and shied, dancing sideways. Callie drew her up short, and stared, her mind trying to interpret what she was seeing.

It was the body of a man, curled into himself, lying by a trickle of a stream. She jumped from her horse and ran to the still form only to recoil when a moan came from the man’s lips. Gently she placed her hand on his shoulder and turned his face toward her.

“Onnie? Onnie Simple?” she breathed the question. “How?” The man moaned again, clutching his abdomen.

Callie ran back to her horse and, pulling her rifle from the scabbard, fired a shot into the air. Keeping her rifle in her hand, she furtively glanced around her. There was nothing in sight and there was no place for someone or something to hide. The sagebrush looked stunted, the ground hard packed, except around the small stream, struggling along its path. Bending down again beside the man, she gingerly ran her hands over him, looking for wounds of any sort, while all the time her mind raced.
How did Onnie get here? How did he get free? Where was he hurt and by what?

She didn’t have much time to ponder the situation before she glanced up and saw two riders coming toward her at a full gallop. They were bent low over their saddles, but Callie easily recognized the men. Henry Henry and Seth. She rose to her feet. Seth. He was hardly out of his sick bed and surely shouldn’t be jarring around on a horse. But before she could utter one word of protest, he was on the ground, taking her in his arms.

“Callie? Are you all right? We heard the shot and—”

“I’m okay, Seth. It’s not me it’s—” Callie felt his heart pounding as he held her tight against him.

“Seth,” Henry Henry called. “Come here.” He kneeled beside Onnie, lifting his head. Onnie’s eyes fluttered and a groan escaped his throat.

Gently, Seth set her aside and went to kneel beside Henry, his eyes quickly assessing the situation.

“There’s no sign of a wound,” Callie said into the heavy stillness. “No blood, nothing. I have no idea how he got here. The last I knew he was tied up in the back of his wagon.”

“We knowed he was free,” Henry Henry said. “Caleb went to take him his breakfast and found the ropes, cut and lying there. Looked like Onnie here had backed up to a broken hinge on one a his trunks and used the sharp edge to saw at the ropes. Probably been doing it the last few days after the rope broke. Still”— He peered closer at the man’s face—“don’t see no reason for this.”

Seth slowly shook his head. “I do. Lay him back down, Henry. There’s nothing we can do for him but let him die in peace.”

“Die?” Callie echoed the word, a chill skittering up her spine.

“He won’t last much longer, Callie. We’ll stay with him. You can go back to the wagons. Tell them to circle up where they are, not to come any closer. We’ll pull out after nooning.” Then in a quieter voice, he added, “Should be over by then.”

“I-I don’t understand.” Her eyes were wide in her too-white face. “What happened? You said you know. What is it?”

“Cholera.” The word blackened the air, its morbidity surrounded them. Seth jerked his head at the small stream. “Onnie crept out of camp sometime last night, early on, I’d expect. Made it this far, saw the stream, and stopped to drink. He never was much of one for listening or following orders. He’s been here several hours. Cramps must of took him right off or else he decided to rest a few minutes before taking off. Anyway, there’s not much else to say.”

“Maybe we . . .?” she trailed off, knowing the answer.

“Too far gone. You go warn the others. I don’t want anyone else making the same mistake.” He jerked his chin in the direction of the camp. “Go on, Callie. You don’t need to see this.”

His blue eyes were filled with concern. His heart had barely slowed down from the fear that had grabbed him when he heard Callie’s shot. If he hadn’t before realized how much she meant to him, he did now. He’d cursed his weakness and the time it had taken for him to get to his horse. Thankfully, Henry Henry had been in camp and didn’t waste time trying to argue him out of rushing to the sound.

Shakily, Callie mounted her horse. Not wasting any time, she rode back, stopping in front of the lead wagon. She held up her hand.

“Whoa,” she called out. “Circle up.” Her voice rang out loud and clear.

It was to her credit that no one questioned her command. Like clockwork, they performed the familiar task. When completed, the men came up to her, fear and concern in their eyes. Every hand held a rifle.

“What’s up, Callie?”

Quickly she explained the situation. “Cholera.” The word was whispered from person-to-person. They hadn’t escaped this dreaded disease after all. It had caught up with them and taken one of their own. No one had much liked Onnie Simple, but no one would have wished death on him.

Wordlessly, several of the men went back to their wagons and returned with shovels. They were practical now, hardened by the trail. A grave must be dug, a man buried.

Callie followed behind them. She was torn. A part of her wanted to stay with her wagon, to hide from this reality. The other part of her needed to feel some closure. In some way, she blamed herself for Onnie’s death.
If she hadn’t shot him
. . .
If she hadn’t forced his being tied up and held captive
. . .
If she had thought to have someone check his ropes
. . .
Callie knew she had acted the only way she possibly could. Onnie was a threat and fate had ordained her to be the one to stop him. But knowing this didn’t stop the guilt that pounded at her.

She dismounted and stood back on the fringe, watching. The men conferred with Seth and Henry Henry. Henry was no longer holding Onnie’s head. He and Seth stood. The time for comfort was past. Seth had been right. It hadn’t taken long. Seth glanced Callie’s way, then turned back to the men, giving a few short orders. The shoveling commenced. One of the men had thought to bring an old gray blanket and two of them lifted Onnie onto it, wrapping the makeshift shroud around him.

Silently, they dug. The body was lowered into the hole; the men removed their hats, bowing their heads. Seth said a few words, the sound of his voice low, the words not reaching Callie. A few short minutes later, the hole was filled in and the group silently filed past her, back to their wagons.

“Nothing left here, Callie,” Seth said gently, riding up to her. He waited patiently while she turned her horse, walking it beside his.

There was no marker, nothing to identify the spot. Soon Onnie Simple would be forgotten . . . another unfortunate casualty on their trek to a better life. There wasn’t time to mourn, even if there had been anyone to mourn his passing. The wagon train had to move on.

Callie shivered and refused to look back at the freshly dug grave. There were all kinds of courage.

Late in the afternoon of the third day since burying Onnie, the American flag came into sight, whipping in the wind. Fort Laramie. As the wagon train drew closer, they saw the teepees dotting the land surrounding the fort. Indians, some wrapped in colorful blankets, stood stoically silent, watching the travelers draw closer.

Although Seth had assured them these Plains Indians were non-threatening, it was with great relief that he ordered them to circle wagons a distance from the fort and the Indian encampment.

Callie’s first impression of Fort Laramie was one of disappointment. She’d envisioned, or maybe hoped for, a place that would feed her growing need for security and safety. After Onnie’s death, Callie realized even more how tenuous life was. She wanted to feel safe, secure, protected, but from what she wasn’t sure. But this, this fort wasn’t even surrounded by walls to separate it from the vast, treeless plains. Plains where Indians camped randomly, suspiciously scowling at the trespassers.

She had no desire to enter the fort. She had all the supplies she would need safely stored in her wagon.

“Callie, you have to come,” Phyllis pleaded, her voice low. “You’re the only one that knows. I can’t buy the flannel without arousing Jacob’s suspicion, but you can. I have to start thinking about diapers and gowns. I’m afraid the baby won’t wait for Oregon City to make her arrival. Anyway, I need time to do the sewing and I won’t be able to work on things out in the open.”

“Darn it. You would if you wouldn’t be so stubborn. Tell Jacob. You’re just lucky you’re not showing yet.”

“I’m tall. I kept Caleb tucked in between my stomach and backbone for several months. It appears my little girl has found the same hiding place.”

“Little girl, huh?” Callie’s mouth stretched into a smile and a light glowed in her eyes. “Phyllis, do you really think it’s a girl?”

“Yes. I knew Caleb was a boy. And, I have no doubt this one is a girl. Oh, Callie, can you believe it? A daughter. We’ll have a new home, a new life, and I’ll have a daughter to share it with. A sweet girl to teach and cherish. A daughter to watch grow into a lovely, young lady. And thanks to you, I can pass on my mother’s dishes. They’re stored away, safe and sound in our wagon.” Absently, she ran her hand over her stomach, her face filled with a radiant light.

For a moment, Callie felt a heavy ache enter her heart. Phyllis’ daughter would never know her. Quickly, she caught herself and forced a smile. Nothing was to diminish Phyllis’ joy.

“Okay, okay. I’ll go into Fort Laramie with you and Jacob. But”—she looked sternly at Phyllis— “only on one condition.”

“What?” Phyllis frowned.

“Aunt Callie gets to buy the flannel.”

“I can’t let you do that. I’ve got my cookie money put aside. You’ve done enough for our family.”

“This isn’t up for discussion. Either I buy, or I stay here in the quiet of my own wagon, with a cup of coffee for company.”

“What isn’t up for discussion?” Seth came around the wagon, moving in his silent, confident way.

“Oh, uh . . .”

“I was . . .”

Both women spoke at once.

“Up to something, ladies? I’m not sure Fort Laramie is a good venture for cookie selling.”

“No. No cookies,” Callie answered. “We were just talking about whether or not I’ll accompany Phyllis into the fort for a bit of shopping.”

“I was just coming by to ask you the same thing.”

“You were?”

“Yep. I thought you might like to accompany me into the fort. I need to meet with the fort commander. He’s an old friend of mine and would be upset if I passed this close and didn’t say hello. Then I thought, if you ladies didn’t have other plans, I’d buy you dinner. Jacob and Henry Henry have already accepted.”

“I’ll go,” Callie said quickly.

“Me, too,” Phyllis chimed in.

Seth chuckled. “Don’t need to think it over, huh?”

“Nope.” Callie grinned. “I’d eat most anything just to sit at a real table and not bend over a camp fire.”

“Be careful. Anything is what you might get. Phyllis, I just spoke with Jacob and he agreed we should walk in together, along with a few of the other families. I’d feel a lot easier in my mind about everyone’s safety that way. As I said, the Plains Indians are peaceful now, but they aren’t happy over the increase in wagon trains passing through their land. And the fort folks can be on the rough side, too.”

“That’s perfect,” said Phyllis. “Callie and I do have a couple purchases to make, right, Callie?”

“Well, I know I have one. A very important one.”

“I’ll go find Jacob and we’ll meet you two back here. Is everyone wanting to leave now?”

“As soon as we all gather. I don’t want us coming back to our wagons in the dark. If we leave now, we should have plenty of time to get everything done.”

Callie felt a thrill of excitement. She would be spending time with Seth. He was taking her to dinner. He would be spending the day, well most of it, by her side. Her heart felt like a drum pounding in her chest, and knew there was a silly grin on her face.

“I have a couple of things to do before I’m ready. You won’t leave without me will you, Seth?” Callie mumbled the last words over her shoulder as she scooted inside the wagon.

“Not a chance.” Seth laughed. “Spending the day with you is the main reason I’m going.”

But she didn’t hear his answer. Her head was buried in a chest, her hands flying, as they frantically searched.

No more than half an hour had passed when Callie heard voices coming closer.

Seth called out, “Callie, you ready?”

She took a minute to answer. What had seemed a good idea a short while ago now seemed foolish. She felt awkward, shy.
How silly,
she thought.
I know these people. I have absolutely no reason to feel this way.
But the feeling persisted. Her mouth went dry and she wished she could just call out that she had decided to stay with the wagons. No, she didn’t. She was going to spend time with Seth. And to spend time with him, she had to overcome the butterflies fluttering in her stomach.

“Callie?” Seth called again.

“C-Coming.” And with that, she threw open the canvas and, as gracefully as possible, climbed out.

“Whooee!” Henry Henry called out. “Would you look at our Callie.”

“Well, that’s more like it.” Mrs. Franklin sniffed. “I knew there was a woman underneath all that buckskin.”

But it wasn’t Henry and Mrs. Franklin who caught Callie’s attention. Her blue eyes, as blue as the ribbon in her hair, were shining for one man only. Nervously, she smoothed her hands down the front of her dress and waited for Seth’s response.

She had packed the dress, doubting there would ever be an occasion to wear it.

“Callie.” Seth felt the catch in his throat. The cornflower blue silk was dotted with tiny yellow flowers and trimmed with a narrow band of white lace. The large bow in the back pulled the dress snugly, emphasizing her narrow waist. She’d lost weight, but it only made her look petite and fragile. Somewhere inside her wagon, a feisty, rough riding woman had cast aside buckskin pants and shirt. A beautiful butterfly emerged from a dusty cocoon.

He wanted to take her in his arms and crush her to him, hold that beautiful head against his chest and whisper how much he loved her. Never before had he felt so helpless. Never before had he hated a man as much as he hated Callie’s fiancé. Hated his lack of concern, and his obvious lack of awareness for the jewel he had in this delightful woman. But overriding the hate was envy. Envy and desire for what could never be his.

Callie lowered her eyes. Seth hadn’t said anything but her name. A hard knot formed in her throat. He didn’t approve. And she willed herself not to let the hurt show.

“My, my hair’s still so short,” she said. And this dress is—”

“Beautiful,” Seth whispered. “But the woman wearing it is more than beautiful. She’s, well, Callie, I don’t have the words to describe you.” He knew he’d already said too much. Mrs. Franklin’s ears were flapping and Seth’s response would be shared with anyone willing to listen.

He gave Callie a warm look, hoping his face didn’t give away his true feelings, and crooked his arm.

“Miz Collins, I’d be very proud to escort you.” He reached out and took Callie’s cold hand and placed it on his arm. He could feel her tremble as he folded his large hand protectively over hers.

Henry Henry jumped into the awkward silence. “I couldn’t agree more, Seth. No, siree. There just ain’t words to describe Callie. Nope. No words. Well”—he moved ahead of the gawking group—“let’s stretch our legs else it’ll be dark afore we even get started.”

Seth looked into Callie’s eyes and, with a hint of a smile, squeezed her hand.