by M L Dunn
“Let’s go,” he said.
“Go on. I’ll catch up with you,” Jonas said glancing at the setting sun to judge how much longer until it would be dark.
“It’s too late for the boy. They’ve spotted him.”
“I promised him,” Jonas said turning around and coming toward Caleb’s horse. “You should go,” he said just before slapping Caleb’s horse.
Caleb’s horse bolted and Caleb looked back over his shoulder and saw Jonas mount his horse. He yelled that it was too late for the boy, but Jonas ignored him and disappeared over the ridge. Caleb turned his horse around and led it back near the top of the ridge. He slid off, rifle in hand. Black Horse’s son was trying to scoot over the other side of the ridge, but Caleb stopped him. He lay on the ground next to him, watching.
Jonas raced toward the boy and the boy was running to meet him. Jonas reached him near the bottom the grassy slope before the warrior did. The warrior hadn’t brought a weapon out from the camp with him, but he tried to stop Jonas anyway and Jonas swung his rifle at him causing the warrior to back away. The warrior yelled back toward the camp as Jonas reached for Pedro, took hold of his wrist, and started dragging him up on the horse. The first shot coming out from the camp whizzed just past them, but then Jonas pulled the boy up behind him and spurred his horse. Another shot was fired from the camp as Jonas rode across the side of the hill away from Caleb and Mattie. He turned his horse then and started up the ridge, but then another shot was fired and Jonas’ horse slumped to the ground. The horse fell and rolled over on its side as Jonas reached behind him and threw the boy clear of the horse, but Jonas was caught partially underneath the animal.
Caleb watched as Jonas tried to free himself, pushing hard with both hands against the ground, but now Comanche warriors were riding out from the camp toward him.
Caleb looked on with complete terror. He thought he should just go on and leave and he glanced at Mattie sitting on his horse just a little ways down the hill from him. When he turned back to look at Jonas, the Mexican boy was trying to free him, but it was too late – a dozen warriors, bows strung or lances in their hands were coming for him now.
Caleb glanced at Black Horse’s son next to him and then looked to see Jonas pulling his pistol. He aimed it not at the warriors coming toward him, but at his own head.
What Caleb did next – as he pulled the Indian boy up abruptly - was weigh the debt he owed Jonas and the Mexican boy, the sheriff, Patrick O’Hara and Sweet Time, evens debts further back like Tom Durrant. And that scale was greatly tipped against him. So with one action, he meant to bring some balance to it, even it cost him his life.
Holding Black Horse’s son out in front of him, he fired a rifle shot into the air before Jonas could take his own life. Every head in the camp turned toward the sound and spotted him atop the ridge. Every warrior coming out towards Jonas halted, everything but the watch ticking in Caleb’s pocket seemed to stop. He fired another shot and then glanced back over his shoulder at Mattie, once again wondering if this was the last time they would be with each other. He smiled at her for just a moment and then turned to look at the camp again. He had no intention of being taken alive if they rushed him. Hopefully they would understand he only wanted to make an exchange.
Mr. O’Hara had told him selling captives was just a business to the Comanche. Sally had told him they loved their children and he had one of them propped up in front of him exactly like a shield. He had to assume they would respond sanely, for how else could you ever bargain with them? And if they did, then his offer would be accepted. He’d bet his life on it.
All of the Comanche were looking at him as a warrior came racing out of the camp. Caleb recognized Black Horse.
Black Horse rode straight up the hill quickly, no one else joined him and Caleb could see a lance in his hand. It seemed Black Horse intended to run him through so Caleb lifted his pistol and held it by his side ready to fire. Black Horse charged right at him until he suddenly brought his pony to an abrupt halt, so close that Caleb could have reached out and touched the nose of the horse if he had wanted to. Black Horse didn’t take his eyes off Caleb as he slid off his horse. He moved closer, his lance in his hand, but then his gaze left Caleb. He’d spotted Mattie set astride Caleb’s horse just yards below them. Black Horse stared at her. His expression changed. Caleb didn’t know what to make of it. He seemed to smile at her. He looked at Caleb, seeming to recognize him then.
Caleb had to control his hands from shaking as Black Horse stared intently at him. Finally Caleb decided to speak, wanting to make him understand that he wanted to trade Black Horse his son for Jonas. He did this by jabbing his rifle at Jonas and then tapping the young warrior standing just in front of him with it. Black Horse turned and looked down the hill at Jonas, who had managed to free himself from underneath the horse, but was still sitting on the ground surrounded by a half-circle of Comanche warriors. Jonas had his head tilted back looking up the hill at Caleb with more than just a casual interest. Black Horse nodded that he understood. He spoke something to his son. He looked at Mattie and spoke the same words towards her.
It must have meant something encouraging, because then Black Horse turned and yelled at the warriors surrounding Jonas and they began motioning for Jonas to proceed up the hill. Jonas got up, but did not start up the hill right away. Pragmatic as he was, he started removing his saddle off his fallen horse as unoffending as possible. It took him nearly half a minute to do so and then he started up the hill, walking at first, and then hurrying faster, bidding Pedro follow him.
As Jonas and the boy made their way up the hill, Caleb saw an Indian woman start out the camp towards them. Black Horse noticed the woman coming too and it seemed he was most interested in her then. When Jonas and Pedro reached the top of the hill they came and stood next to Caleb and then Black Horse drew his knife, bent down, and cut off the ropes tying his son’s legs together. By then the Indian woman had reached them and she looked at all of them. She hugged her son, but he soon became embarrassed by her show of affection and pulled away from her. He reached out his hands for his father to cut the ropes tying his wrists together and then the young brave proceeded down the hill near Mattie and over to his mustang. He jumped atop it, said something to Mattie before riding off in the attitude that he’d just lost a sporting match of some sort.
As the Indian woman went past him toward Mattie, Caleb saw she had blue eyes. Her hair was not black, but a dark brown, brought even to that color with the help of some aid – charcoal or berries or the like. Her features were not Comanche, and if Caleb were forced to guess, he would have said Scandinavian. She approached Mattie and spoke softly toward her and Mattie responded in kind. The Indian woman hugged Mattie around her waist, her head resting on Mattie’s legs a moment as Mattie sat atop the horse. Mattie patted her head.
Jonas held out his fine Henry rifle towards Black Horse then and indicated, by jabbing a finger at it, that he’d trade him it for the Indian pony Black Horse had ridden there. Caleb was thankful to have something else to focus on than the sweet parting that was taking place behind them. Black Horse accepted the rifle, but before waving Jonas towards the pony, he indicated he wanted the cartridges that went with the gun. Jonas dug in his saddlebags and pulled out two boxes and handed them to Black Horse. Then he quickly went over and saddled the pony, much more easily than Caleb had ever his.
The sun had sunk over the horizon, but twilight lingered and Jonas told Caleb they should be going. Caleb nodded at Black Horse before backing away from him and turning for his Appaloosa. The woman watched him approach, seeming about to say something, but she never did. Probably she had lost the ability to do so some time before. Caleb slid up behind Mattie, turned his horse around and rode off with Jonas and the boy.
Neither Jonas nor Caleb spoke until they’d put some distance between them and the Comanche. When they did look back they saw no one following them and it wasn’t till then that Caleb felt himself relax in the least bi
t.
“What was it that brave said to you?” he asked Mattie.
“It means like everything’s gonna be okay,” she explained.
“Oh,” Caleb said.
Chapter 29
That night they would stop only to rest the horses twice and when they did they listened for someone following them, but there was only the chirping of crickets and the soft breathing of Mattie asleep in Caleb’s arms. Caleb did not know how far they were from Fort Dodge, nor exactly which direction it lay. Mr. O’Hara had led them on a circuitous path through the desert like Moses, but Jonas figured the end result was that they’d ended up nearly directly south of Fort Dodge.
When the sun rose after just a few short hours, they stopped again and looked around for anything that might look familiar from the week before, but there was not any feature that left much of an impression upon the land or upon a man or so Caleb found. He was concerned that a straight line would be easily followed, but he could decide on no better geometric shape. He’d thought he’d seen something behind them and his neck became sore from turning around so often. Jonas noticed this and told him not to worry.
They rode a little further and then Jonas halted his horse before sliding off. Caleb turned his horse around so he and Mattie were facing Jonas and the boy. “What are you doing?”
“It’s time for us to part company,” Jonas explained, stretching.
“Why?”
“I’m not going back.”
“Why not?”
“I’m a free man,” Jonas said stretching out his arms their full length before bringing them back in to reach in his breast pocket and pulling out a slip of paper. “Colonel signed my discharge paper at Fort Dodge before we left,” he said showing Caleb the slip of paper. “Of course I had to promise I’d help you find your child first. I think it was his wife’s idea. I hope you’ll tell him I kept my promise.”
“I will, of course,” Caleb said. “You’re going to join your brother then?”
“Yeah.”
“You’re taking the boy with you?”
“At least as far as New Mexico,” Jonas said. “I’ll turn him over to the authorities there. I suppose he has a family somewhere wondering about him.”
“Let me give you some money,” Caleb said reaching back toward his saddlebag.
“No,” said Jonas shaking his head. “I sold that pistoleros’ saddle to Sweet Time for $45 and for making my mark on that reward slip. Between that and Juan’s money and my own, I got over a hundred and fifty dollars in my pocket, by far the most money I ever had.”
Caleb looked at the boy. “Take this hat at least,” he said, taking off his sombrero and handing Jonas it. “I don’t need it anymore, he might like it,” he said pushing the hat toward Pedro.
“A dead man’s hat,” Jonas said looking at it suspiciously before accepting it. Jonas held it out toward the boy who seemed eager to have it. Pedro placed it on his head and smiled from underneath it. “That’s supposed to be bad luck, but not this time I think.”
“It wasn’t for me,” Caleb said holding out his hand for Jonas to shake. Jonas shook Caleb’s hand. “Good luck.”
“I hope I never see you out here again,” Jonas said smiling at him.
“You won’t.”
Jonas walked back to his horse then and slid atop behind the boy. He turned his horse west and spurred it, but he rode just a short distance before he swung the horse around. He took the sombrero off Pedro’s head and waved it in a wide arc over both their heads. “Goodbye Mattie Evans,” he shouted and then he replaced the sombrero on the boy’s head before turning his horse around. He spurred his horse toward New Mexico then.
Chapter 30
Despite Jonas assurance, that night Caleb still found himself worried. Despite all he had been through, all he had accomplished, being alone out there was still unsettling. He was convinced he’d seen something following them and then he would suspect something waited for them just ahead. He would suddenly panic he had run out of water, only to check his canteens over and over. He had taken the watch back from Mattie and wound it the night before, but it had run down again and it’s ticking had steadily slowed, like dripping rain after a storm’s passing. The watch was in need of winding, but he did not notice, to him it seemed to be ticking normally.
Caleb tried to think of the words to a song, hoping to put something else in his head than the dark thoughts that came flying in, but his mind could not settle on any song in particular, and soon he had forgotten the idea altogether.
He fell asleep, but was awakened sometime later when he fell from his horse and both he and Mattie landed on the ground with a thud. The last thing he could recall was Mattie telling him about the buffalo she’d seen, but she too had fallen asleep. She was not hurt now, but falling had scared her and she began to cry. He calmed her down and held her until she fell back asleep. He did not know how long he’d been asleep in the saddle and he could not remember where the moon had been, but he knew it had moved considerably. He worried the horse might have been going the wrong direction, might have turned around completely or possibly not been moving at all. He started out again, and rode for what he felt was an hour, and then he stopped when he found he was atop a large bluff. Below, the Canadian River flowed past him. They crossed the river that night and camped within a stand of cottonwoods. He stood listening to the river and hearing nothing else, he lay down to rest.
Chapter 31
When July woke the next day, he did so abruptly, sitting up quickly and looking around the room. The room was filled with the harsh light and heat of mid-day sun and Rachel was sitting in a chair next to him.
“What is it?” she asked.
He turned to look at her and she did not know what he would say, possibly something as common as, ‘Good morning’, or as shattering as, ‘Why are you here?’ But however he chose to address her; she knew she would always remember it.
“I dreamt I was back at Chickamauga,” July said.
“In the war?”
“Yes, I was dreaming of that day.”
“What happened?”
“I was wounded the first day at Chickamauga,” July said, showing her the scar running down his upper arm. “I was tagged for amputation at the field hospital, but when I had the chance I tore the tag off and dragged myself outside to where the lightly wounded were gathered,” July told her. “They sent that group back to the regimental hospital where a different surgeon - a Frenchman name LaFluer, who had lectured at Tulane - took pity on me. He decided I could try keeping my arm if I wanted to. So he cut out the piece of metal lodged inside there and sewed me up. I told him I was thankful, but he told me to wait a few days to see if he had done me a favor or not. Once a day he would come around and unwrap the bandages and check his handiwork for infection. Hoping the skin hadn’t turned black and smelling my arm for gangrene. Anyway for a week there we didn’t know which ways things would go. Then after a week he unwrapped it and said, ‘Voila’,” July said doing his best French accent and throwing his hands in the air to demonstrate success like the French surgeon had years before. “He produced some brandy out of his bag and we drank to my arm,” July explained. “I got lucky as you can see. Back then I felt like I just couldn’t do with the loss of an arm.”
“I wish I had some brandy to offer you now,” Rachel said, “but how do you feel?”
“I feel good,” he said. “What happened to Mr. O’Hara?”
“He’s down at trading post. He came by this morning and left your horses and things, said he’d be leaving in a few days.”
“Oh. Well I wish him luck. Where was he headed?”
“Didn’t really say, but he said I was welcome to tag along if I wanted to.”
“Is that what you want?”
“No,” she said shaking her head. ”That’s not what I want. How about something to eat?” she asked July then getting up out of her chair.
“Okay.”
“I’ll get you something,” s
he said walking toward the door.
“That’s a fine dress,” July said, noticing her new clothes, but he could think of anything more to add.
She came back within a few minutes and he found he could eat little of the food she’d brought him, but the coffee helped clear his head. July knew she was waiting for him to say something, and the promised devotion of a young, pretty woman, seemed like something he shouldn’t have to think about for very long. He just wasn’t sure what he would do with her, but he did like having her around. She did not complain about her trials in life, although she had reason to, and he liked the witty remarks she made. He liked the direct way she had of talking, letting him know what she wanted from him and what she could offer in return.
July climbed out of the bed to test his leg and found it weak. He collapsed back down, but put his trousers and shirt on then; noticing Rachel had mended it for him. He thanked her and then explained he needed to pee badly and that he had no intention of using a chamber pot. She told him there was a latrine outside and he hobbled out the room using the wall as a crutch. It was some time before he came back, and when he did he stood in the open door leaning against its frame to support his leg. Then he just started talking, explaining. The words almost seeming to form on their own, unmoored to him, as though someone else was speaking, but he made no move to prevent it.
“I’ll be heading back to Sunfield County. That’s where I’m sheriff. Folks there are nice – farmers mostly. It’s a nice enough place,” July heard himself saying. “You could come there. I could get you work there at the hotel or helping out at the diner, nobody would bother you,” July told her, but looking out the window as he spoke. “I’d see to that.”
