by Marsha Ward
Carl flung himself off Sherando and stripped away his gun belt and shirt. Acosta seemed confident, dismounting with a lazy grace that spoke of long, hard muscle and great control. The big man gave his holster and belt to one of his companions, but he made no move to take off his vest or shirt.
As he looked at the Mexican, Carl imagined him holding Ida in his arms, and a cold rage welled up into his throat, nearly choking him. He stepped up to the older man and threw the first punch with his right fist. Acosta ducked and laughed, and hit Carl a short, sharp jab to the stomach. Carl backed up, sick from the powerful blow.
Acosta followed and slugged him again. When Carl doubled over, Acosta chopped down from above, aiming for the back of Carl’s neck. The youth twisted out of the way, and Acosta’s joined fists glanced off his shoulder. Carl stumbled sideways, knowing his opponent was following him, then he thudded up against Sherando. He gasped for breath, then moved out to meet Acosta’s attack.
This time the blows caught him on the face, and he tried to escape by ducking as Acosta had done. The Mexican swung into air, and Carl, surprised by the success of his maneuver, followed up by butting Acosta with his head. Caught off guard, the rowdy went down, Carl on top of him.
They rolled together, dust filling their lungs and coating their bodies and clothes. Carl broke away first and got to his feet, coughing and shaking his head.
His rage was now a steady, burning drive to defeat the older man. He tasted blood as he licked his upper lip and realized that the Mexican was still unbloodied. “I’ll change that now,” he muttered, setting himself for the next attack.
Acosta got to his feet, threw back his head in anger, and cried out, “You have soiled my clothing, señor. This I do not forgive.”
He’s prideful, Carl thought. It makes him angry to be mussed. Carl raised his arms to turn aside Acosta’s renewed attack, then hit his foe in the face as hard as his work-toughened muscles would allow. He heard the crunch of the nose breaking, felt the moistness of blood on his knuckles, but he hit again, with his left, opening a gash over Acosta’s right cheekbone.
Stunned with the blow, unused to having his own blood flow, Acosta panicked, jabbing ineffectually at Carl’s body. He paused once to wipe the blood from his ruined nose, and the sight of it on his hand seemed to cause him more alarm.
He swore at Carl, words that lost no venom for being in a foreign tongue. “You have ruined my face,” he finished.
Carl gathered his strength and punched Acosta on the side of the head. The Mexican went down and stayed down, and Rod and young Albert pulled their pistols, covering the three rowdies, while Carl climbed on Sherando and his brothers boosted the girls up behind them on their horses. They all left at once, as the two men tried to revive their unconscious amigo.
When the Owens arrived in camp, Carl slid off Sherando and ran to gather Ida into his arms as Rulon lowered her to the ground from his saddle. Carl held her close to his dusty chest and stroked her hair, feeling the shivers that seized her body.
“There now, Ida,” he soothed, calming her with little pats and strokes. “I took care of him. He won’t never bother you again.”
“Oh Carl, I thought he was killing you.” She sneezed from the dust, then peered at his bruised and bloody face, and patted the puffiness under his left eye. “Oh, Carl!” Ida covered her mouth with her hand. “He spoiled your handsome face.”
“I left him more a mess than he left me,” he said, flexing his swelling hands.
~~~
Marie and Ellen slipped to the ground and tried to get to their wagons, but Rod Owen barred the way, and he was soon joined by Chester Bates. Then Julia and Muriel ran up, with the rest of the party close behind.
“Marie,” demanded Rod. “Why were you on the road back there?”
The girl took one look at her father’s contorted face and began to blubber hysterically. Ellen put an arm around her and tried to smile.
“Ida said she needed to get some things from the store, and we agreed to go with her. We was almost there when those men rode up and began to torment us, shooting off their guns and making rude comments.” Ellen looked up and saw Ida in Carl’s arms. “If Carl and the rest of you hadn’t come just then—” She turned her face and broke into sobs.
“Ellen,” Marie cried out, and wrapped her arms around her friend. “You been so brave, and you talked back to that awful man. Don’t cry.”
Ellen shook her head and wept on, throwing her arms around Marie’s neck.
“There, now,” Muriel soothed her daughter. “We’ll take you over to the wagon, you can lie down a spell, and you’ll feel better tomorrow.”
“No,” she sobbed. “Leave me be.” Then she whispered through her tears into Marie’s ear, “Take care of your brother’s face. It wants cold cloths, and Ida sure ain’t going to think of that.”
Marie drew back and gave her a sharp glance, then looked over at Carl and Ida. “I’ll take her, Mrs. Bates,” she volunteered. “We’ll both be fine with a little rest.” Marie took Ellen’s hand and led her away from the buzzing group.
When the girls arrived at the Bates’ wagon, Marie turned to Ellen. “You’re not crying because you’re scared. You’re crying over my brother!” She scrutinized Ellen’s face, not allowing her to cover her eyes with her hand. “You like my brother. I do declare!”
Ellen wiped her tears. “He saved my life. Twice, now. And I can’t go over there and fix him up. You’ll have to tend to that.”
“You’re right. Ida won’t think of it, and Carl sure won’t bother. Why, he ain’t even got the sense to put his shirt back on. And I reckon his hands could use some tending, too. Ellen, you bathe your face, and I’ll tend to Carl’s.”
~~~
Rod spoke to the men gathered around the blowing horses. “We’ll likely need extra guards tonight. I don’t know if them rowdies have other friends, nor if they’d be foolish enough to attack an armed camp, but we’d best be prepared for them. Clay, Albert!”
“Yes, Pa,” responded the two boys.
“You bunch the stock and put them on pickets, those you can. We’ll give you more guards. Folks, let’s form a square with the wagons. Angus, you and Ed put yours on the east side, Tom and Chester, take the south. Rand, you pull into the west, and Rulon and me’ll make the north side.”
“Rod, I reckon I need some supplies,” Tom O’Connor said.
“This is a good time for everyone to take stock. Look over your goods, and if you need victuals, or extra shot, go into town together to buy.” The men dispersed, except for Rand Hilbrands, who approached Rod.
“Where’s Carl? My driver?”
Rod gestured toward the family wagon. “Getting his wounds tended. Say, Rand, the young ones wanted to get wed today, but I don’t think it’s a good idea now. Will you let Carl know?”
Rand grimaced. “I will.” He walked up to Carl, who was seated on a barrel of cornmeal undergoing Marie’s ministrations. “Carl, my boy, you done a fine, brave thing. I’m mighty grateful to you for rescuing my girl Ida from those thugs.” Rand reached into his trousers pocket. “Here, take this coin with my thanks.” He pressed it into Carl’s puffy hand and continued. “Your pa said to say today’s not a good time to wed.”
“No, I—” Carl began, but Marie muffled her brother’s voice with the cold cloth she held tightly to his mouth as Rand walked toward his wagon.
Marie removed the cloth when Rand was safely out of hearing range. “You were going to get married today?”
“Yep. That Acosta fellow surely messed up my plans.”
Marie bit her lip, and ached for Ellen. When she had finished with Carl’s face, she said, “Your hands are a mess, your lip is split, and you’ll likely have a black eye for a spell, but you’ll soon make Ida’s heart go ‘pitty-pat’ again.”
Carl squinted at his sister and gave a quick shrug of his shoulders, then got up from the barrel.
“Thank you for tending my face. You didn’t have to do that.�
�
“I know it. Put your shirt on. You surely look foolish parading around half-naked.” She put her fist on a hip. “Then go thank Ellen Bates. She’s the only one of us who thought of caring for your ugly mug.”
Carl felt his swollen lip with bruised fingers. “That was right sisterly of her.”
Marie stared at her brother, unable to think of a proper response.
“What do I do with all this money, Sis? I’ve got my eye on a change of clothes, and I want to get something pretty for Ma, but I expect I’ll have a bit left over.”
“It’s your money, and I reckon you took a beating to earn it, but I wouldn’t fuss if you was to bring me a bite of something sweet.”
“The store has a candy counter. I’ll do it. I reckon that’ll pay you back for washing up my face.”
“Mind you, it was Ellen’s idea. If you bring me some candy, you have to bring her some likewise.”
“I wonder why she didn’t fix me up herself?” he asked, putting on his shirt.
~~~
Six cautious men went back into town to buy provisions, and Carl was among them. He picked out his clothes quickly, and then lingered over a selection of gifts for his ma, finally choosing a bright yellow Spanish shawl with colored embroidery and fringes around the edge. He spent a whole quarter dollar at the candy counter, and came away with plenty of sweets for the young people at the camp.
On the return trip, Chester Bates matched the gait of his horse to Carl’s. The furrows between the older man’s nose and mouth deepened and widened as he smiled at the young man and motioned for him to slow his mount.
When they had their horses walking, Chester put his hand out and gripped Carl’s shoulder. “I’m beholden to you for defending the girls today. My Ellen has a strong mind and will, but she’s no match for a bully of that kind. I thank you.”
“Your daughter spoke out well for the girls. She is a brave one, Mr. Bates. If she had been armed, likely there’d have been no need for my help.”
“You’re a modest lad, and well spoken yourself. Your pa can be proud of such a son.”
Carl squirmed under this praise, knowing he had not earned it for defending Ellen or his sister. He said nothing, and Chester nodded to him and rode off up the trail.
When he reached camp, Carl went directly to his family’s wagon and changed into his new clothes. As he dropped from the wagon box, his mother straightened up from the fire and looked him over.
“Don’t you look fine! I count myself lucky that my sons are as fair of deed as they are of figure.”
“Oh, Ma!” he protested, then advanced to the fire and placed a bundle into her busy hands.
“What’s this, Carl?”
“Something I thought you’d like, Ma.”
“For me?”
“You’re the only ma I got.”
She moved to the barrel beside the wagon and sat, smoothing the paper wrapping. “For me?”
she asked again.
“Go ahead, open it, Ma.”
She worried over the knots, until Carl stepped forward with his knife and cut the string. Then she wrapped it into a ball over her fingers and tucked it into a pocket of her apron.
“Come on, Ma,” Carl urged.
She spread apart the paper, and the yellow silk burst into the light. Julia caught her breath. “Oh, Carl, it’s lovely!” She laughed and held the shawl to her face, pressing the softness of the fabric against her cheek. “Where’d you get the coin for this, boy?”
“Mr. Hilbrands gave me a little ‘thank you’ present. He was grateful Ida wasn’t harmed.”
“And well she might have been.” Julia sighed. “I don’t know what got into those girls, even to think of going into a strange town without a man to escort them. I’m glad you boys happened along in time.”
Basking in his mother’s grateful reception of his present, Carl went in search of the girls.
“Here you go, Sis,” he said, and gave Marie a twist of paper. “Thank you.” He turned to Ellen and presented her with a similar paper twist. “I reckon thanks goes to you, too. Marie says so.”
Ellen looked at Marie. “What’s this for?”
“Tell her, Carl.”
“Marie says you sent her over to fix up my wounds. I’m obliged.”
Ellen turned to her friend. “Marie!” she protested, fidgeting with the paper in her hands. Then she held the candy out to Carl. “I didn’t do nothing. I can’t take it.”
“Nonsense. It’s for keeping your head, like.”
She looked down. “Thank you.”
“Enjoy your sweets.”
Carl turned away, and Marie whispered to Ellen, “Look there, he’s bringing you presents. And Ida ain’t married him yet. He’s still fair game.”
“Marie, he treats me like he treats you. I’m an extra sister, to his mind.”
Marie took hold of Ellen’s upper arm and gave it a shake. “Don’t give up, Ellen. Sometimes he’s a bother, but my brother Carl’s worth having. You keep in his sight. Don’t let him forget you’re around.” She let go of her friend’s arm. “Mind you, Ida’s fun, and I reckon Carl thinks so, too, but I don’t think she’ll make him a good wife out in the Colorado Territory. She ain’t the pioneering kind.”
Ellen held the twist of candy over her heart. “But there’s James to consider.”
Marie sighed. “There’s nothing wrong with James,” she said. “He’s nice enough: he’s kind, and he’s brave—he’s got a bayonet wound to prove that.”
“I don’t want James,” Ellen said, shaking her head, her face gone somber. “He’s got that grin, and a quick wit, and I feel so ashamed that I can’t find a morsel of affection for him.” She hid her eyes behind her hands for a moment, then added, “I was so glad when Reverend Halsey didn’t come. I know James was, too. But now he comes to our fire and sits with me, and tries to pretend he’s happy a-courtin’ me. He’ll even kiss my hand from time to time before he goes back to your fire, but there’s no…no loss in my bosom when he leaves.”
Marie’s eyes were wet with tears. “Oh, Ellen,” she sniffed. “Why is life so hard?”
~~~
“They will regret they ever came to Ciudad Kansas,” the Mexican swore, breathing with difficulty through his smashed nose. “The young one, he will watch Berto Acosta have his way with the girl.” He drained the beer from the mug he held in his fist, then turned and shouted, “I will follow them, and the muchacha will be mine!”
“You need rest, Berto,” Willy murmured, taking hold of his arm.
“Shore, that nose won’t heal proper if you sit here drinking all night,” Rankin agreed, grabbing the second arm. “Let’s get some sleep. We’ll pick up their trail easy in a couple of days. Them tenderfeet are always easy to track.”
Chapter 8
For several days after leaving the city of Kansas, the travelers had the road to themselves. Although stage stops and farms stretched all along their path, the other men agreed with Rod that camping and cooking their own food was both cheaper and safer than stopping to eat ready-made meals. However, Rod did inquire for news of Indian movements along the trail ahead.
A week later, the party came upon a fork in the trail, and Rod pointed out to Julia the branch angling off toward the northeast.
“That there’s the road to Oregon. There used to be a sign here, telling folks which way was what. It was mostly a joke.”
