by Marsha Ward
“But we don’t go that way?”
“Nah. We take the left fork, keep going west until we hit the Arkansas River.”
“Looks easy to follow, Rod.”
“Should be. This trail is over forty years old. I reckon we could hold to the road in a snowstorm. The tracks are worn deep and wide.”
“How come there is more than one trail going to the same place, like over there?” Julia gestured toward another track 50 yards away.
“I’ve been told folks would strike off on a path to one side, or where the grass was thicker for the stock. All the trails go to the same place—Santa Fe.”
“I like the trees along here. They remind me of home.” She pointed to a stand of oaks interrupting the waves of blue-stemmed grass.
“Enjoy them now, woman. There’s a long stretch ahead of us without trees at all, and it goes for hundreds of miles. Jonathan said folks call it the ‘Great American Desert’. That’s where all them buffalo are supposed to cover the land from one horizon to the other.”
“Rod, ain’t there no trees in the Colorado Territory?”
“We’ll have trees, Julie. I promise you we’ll have trees if I have to plant ‘em myself.”
“That’ll take years, Rod. I’d hanker for shade.”
“You’ll have it. I didn’t bring you out here to pioneer forever. We’ll have all we had back in the Shenandoah, and more. I figure to make a heap of money. I aim to have my share of this country, especially since the Yankees took as much of mine as they did. If I’ve got to start over, I mean to end big.”
“Rod.” Julia changed the subject. “I’ve been watching that dust cloud out there on the horizon, and it’s growing mighty fast. Somebody’s in a powerful hurry.”
Rod studied the dust for a moment, noting how it boiled up out of the distant roadway. “No telling what trouble that could be. We’d best get off the road and circle the wagons.”
Rod directed his team off the road, and the others followed him, wondering what was causing the delay. At Rod’s explanation, they drew the eight wagons into a tight circle, unhitched the teams, and led them into the center along with the extra livestock. Then they found their rifles and waited as the dust cloud drifted nearer.
A few minutes later, a loud thundering sound accompanied the dust. Soon, the nervous watchers made out a dark, bulky shape, like a covered freight wagon, bearing down on them at high speed.
As it drew closer, Rulon called out to his father. “Pa. I reckon that’s the mail stage.” He walked nearer, and continued in a lower voice. “I reckon I forgot to tell you it was expected about now.”
Rod expelled a lungful of air, and looked at his eldest son. “No harm done, I guess. Next time I send you to a stage stop for information, it would pleasure me if you would tell me all you dig up, boy.”
“I’m sorry I forgot to give you that word, Pa. I reckon I ain’t a boy no longer, though. Not with a wife and young’uns.”
“You’ll always be my boy, Rule. That’s the way of fathers.” Rod suddenly focused on his son’s face. “Wait a minute. You said ‘young’uns’?”
“You been preoccupied, Pa. Mary and me, well, Mary, anyway, is a-brooding chick number two. We reckon it’ll hatch just before spring.”
“That’s why she didn’t want to come west. A gal gets mighty particular about her nest during these times. Is she taking this traveling well, son?”
“Well enough. Look at that stage, Pa.”
Six horses pulled the coach abreast of the wagons. The stage, blue- and red-painted sides gleaming through the dirt, sped by with only a wave of the hand from the guard, and then the stage, passengers, guard, and driver all blended into the dirty ball of dust following them.
Edward Morgan laughed. “That’s a good joke on us, Rod. We’re sitting here all ready for Indians.”
“Practice makes perfect, they say,” Rod said, his mouth set in wry lines. “Let’s hitch up and get on the road again.”
~~~
Several hours later, Ida turned to Carl on the wagon seat. “What if that had been Indians?” she asked.
“What?”
“Back there. The stage. What would we do if they did come down on us?”
“Ida, a lot of us came through the war because we were pretty good with our rifles. That, and lucky. We’ve been practicing with our new revolvers, too. I reckon we’ll fight them off, girl. A bunch of Indians can’t be much different than a bunch of blue-belly Yankees.”
Ida sighed. “I expect I’d die of fright. I still shudder when I think what might have happened to little ol’ me.” She gave an illustration of her best shudder.
Carl clamped his mouth shut against angry words. Her games grated on his nerves, what with the edgy feeling he’d had as soon as he woke that morning.
Ida continued to prattle on about her fright, and when he could bear no more, Carl turned his head to stare at her, trying to get his anger under control before he spoke.
Ida arched her eyebrows and remarked, “You’re a cranky ol’ fuss-budget today, Carl Owen. What ails you?”
Carl turned back to the lines, thinking, I got a bad feeling, and when James rode up alongside the wagon, Carl hailed him.
“Hey, James. Come take the mules for a spell.”
James looked surprised, but traded places with Carl and greeted Ida, who sat frowning next to Eliza. “Hello, Miss Ida. Bet you could use the sight of a handsome face for once.”
“Hello, James,” she said in a monotone.
“Well, you’ll get over that snit,” he replied. “You always do.”
“Humph,” she replied, and bounced nearer her sister.
Carl rode off on James’s horse, breathing deeply, feeling his anger drop away as he put distance between himself and the wagons. He headed east, checking the back trail, easing off toward the north. Searching the prairie, not knowing what he expected to find, he gained composure in the act of working.
After a few miles of riding through tall grass, Carl turned south again, and stopped to let his horse breathe. A rider approached from the direction of the wagon train, and he sat the horse and waited. Once he made out Rulon’s blunt face, he walked the animal forward to meet his older brother.
“Find anything, Carl?” Rulon drawled.
“Nothing. And what’s more, I don’t know what I expect to find, but I been nervy as a bird waiting for the cat to pounce. I sure would admire to know why.”
“I felt the same. Say, did you ride all the way back to that knoll over yonder?”
“Not yet.”
“Let’s go check it.”
After riding for a time in silence, they reached the hill and cautiously circled wide behind it, approaching from the rear side. Rulon pulled up his horse, and pointed toward the east.
“See where that grass has been pushed aside? Somebody rode through that blue stem, probably early today.”
The brothers dismounted and let the reins drag, ground-tying their horses. Rulon took the east approach, and Carl the west, and they advanced slowly, eyes sweeping the earth at the foot of the knoll.
“Look here,” Rulon sang out, excitement registering in his voice.
Carl arrived to see Rulon down on his knees, picking up the stub of a thin black cigar. The grass was trampled in a large area, and included sign that several men and horses had met. Deep heel tracks marked where someone had squatted down. He had drawn in the dirt, then smoothed away the drawing.
“Did they watch the trail?” Carl asked, looking up at the knoll for signs of ascent.
“I reckon. I’ll go up and see what’s to be found there.”
As Rulon climbed the hill, Carl walked over the area again, searching for more sign of what had taken place. He found a spot where a man had stretched out on his back, and the grass was still bent over, showing the outline of his body.
Rulon gave a shout as he skidded down the last few feet of the hill. “Somebody bellied-down there for quite a spell,” he puffed, then caught his
breath and went on. “Watching for us, maybe. The way I read it, they came before daylight and waited until we passed by, then up and returned the way they came.” He gestured around. “How many do you figure in the party, Carl?”
“I count two over here, then two more came up. How many climbed up yonder?”
“Just the one, and he smokes these thin cigars. I found three more stubs up there. Something puzzles me, though. I thought maybe these folks might be those toughs from back yonder in Kansas town, but the feller up the hill didn’t mind getting a little dirt on his britches. Your Mexican friend was powerful upset when you dusted up his clothes, so was it really him and his cronies?”
“I mussed up his fancy duds, but he’s not likely to wear them on the trail. I got a crawling up my back tells me we got Berto Acosta and his pals tracking us.”
Rulon took one last look around the base of the knoll. “Well, we’d best get back. I’ll report to Pa. I’ve a feeling he won’t like what I have to tell him.” He laughed and shook his head.
“There ain’t nothing funny about this, Rule.”
“Only funny thing is that you have to sit up there day after day alongside the girl who brought this whole mess upon us.”
“What’re you saying?” Carl demanded.
“Mary’s fool sister couldn’t wait for an escort to get into town, so she drug the other two girls along with her, and almost got the three of them despoiled. I’d say that makes her to blame for this mess.”
“I’d just as soon take a poke at you here and now, Rulon. Ida didn’t mean anything, heading into town. If anybody’s to blame, it’s them three rowdies, especially Berto Acosta. Ida’s blameless, and I won’t allow you nor anybody else to pin the fault on her.”
“You got yourself a case of hot blood there, little brother. Mind it don’t get you into trouble.”
“Don’t push me, Rule.” Carl climbed on his horse and started back toward the wagons, biting his tongue in regret at his hard words. He didn’t know why he felt compelled to defend Ida, because he knew she was partly to blame for the trouble.
~~~
Carl relieved James at the lines of the freight wagon, and spent the rest of the morning in grim silence. When the wagons stopped for the nooning, Carl helped Ida down from the wagon seat and looked at her gravely. “I ain’t been good company this morning, and I’m sorry for it.”
Ida smiled. “I’ll pay it no mind, Carl.”
“I’ve got to go talk with my brother. You stay put. No wandering away from the wagons, you hear? It’s important, girl.” He looked sternly into her blue eyes, and wagged his finger under her nose for emphasis.
“You’re mighty serious, Carl,” she giggled.
“I’m mighty serious,” he agreed, nodding as he escorted her and her sister to the Hilbrands’ family wagon.
“Sorry I left you out there, Rulon,” Carl apologized stiffly once he located his brother. “I reckon my fool temper is stronger than my sense. Did you talk to Pa?”
“Yep.”
“Well, what did he say about our watchers?”
“He thinks we’re most likely right about who they are and who they’re laying for.”
“Well? What’s he going to do?”
“He didn’t say, Carl. You know Pa. He’ll contemplate on the situation for a spell before deciding what action to take. We’ll have to wait.”
“That’s so.”
~~~
Before the travelers hitched up for the afternoon march, Rod sent word around that he wanted to talk to the men. When they had gathered, he told them what Carl and Rulon had discovered behind the hill. Rod rubbed his beard and squinted around the horizon.
“There’s no need to alarm the women folks. I reckon if we keep a sharp watch behind us, we can go along about like we have.”
“Are you crazy, man?” Rand Hilbrands sputtered, his face red and mottled. “I say we should stay here and circle the wagons, wait for them ruffians to appear, and meet them from a position of strength.”
“We could sit here for a week, waiting for trouble to find us, our food and water running out, when we should be miles down the road toward the Territory. That’s not good tactics, Rand.”
“You think because you were an officer and I stayed home, I don’t know anything. Well, this I know: I’ll not run from a fight. You go along with your two wagons, if you’re too scared to stick and defend yourself and your women folks.”
“Don’t be a fool, Randolph. If they want to make trouble, together we have twice their number. You’ll sit here and divide us up with your fool talk, and make it easy for them to wipe you out.”
“I ain’t going, Rod Owen. I aim to stay right here and fight it out, and yes, with your boy at my side. I paid for his work, and I’ll keep his rifle here.” He turned to the other men. “Tom O’Connor, you never ran from a fight, either. Stay with me.”
The brawny blacksmith nodded. “I never ran, for a fact. I’m bound to back a man who’ll stand and fight.”
“Will the lot of you sit around and burrow into the trail then, waiting for those men to spook you like a bunch of rabbits?” Scorn thickened Rod’s voice. “Devil take the ruffians. Who’ll go on with me to Colorado?”
“I’ll go, Rod,” answered Chester Bates. “I see no sense in waiting for trouble to find me.”
“The farther we go, the nearer we are to home,” observed Ed Morgan. “I’m with you, Rod. You have my son Tom’s rifle, too.”
Angus Campbell glanced around at the angry faces. “I’d favor going on, Rod, but I can’t leave Tom and his little ones. I reckon I have to stay with my kinfolks.”
“You’re a good man, Angus. I’m sorry to lose you. Godspeed to you, then. We’ll go on.” Rod turned his back on those who elected to stay, and took Carl by the shoulder.
“You ma will take this parting hard, Carl, but you’ve a duty to stay and see that fool and his freight wagon get on the way again. He’s putting us in double danger, splitting our firepower, but I won’t sit and wait. The season is late enough now.”
Carl nodded dumbly, his throat choked tight with shock. He shook hands with his father, then, as Rod walked away, Carl called out.
“Pa! How’ll I find you in Colorado?”
“Follow the trail, son. Once you catch sight of the mountains, you look sharp for my sign.”
Carl got his gear and his saddle out of the family wagon, dumped it in a pile, and tied Sherando to the back of the freight vehicle. The day burned hot, with no beauty to temper his misery, and Carl felt dull-witted while the Owen group got under way. He stood gazing at his family as the four wagons turned miniature in the distance, finally being swallowed up in a cloud of dust. Then he turned and sat down against a wagon wheel, his rifle across his knees.
Rand Hilbrands swaggered a little with his new position of command. The other men hitched up their teams and drove them into a square. He walked around and around the puny shelter of the four wagons, assigning men to stand watch.
“You there, Carl. Get some rest. You’ll have the first watch after nightfall.”
Carl got his bedroll from the pile where he’d dumped his gear. He unrolled it and lay down beneath the wagon, but sleep would not come in the afternoon heat. Turning over on the blanket, he opened his eyes to see the hem of Ida’s skirt.
