Thunder on the Plains

by Rosanne Bittner

  Colt just stared at him a moment, then rose, throwing down his cigarette and stepping it out. “Mr. Landers, I don’t think you give your daughter enough credit for common sense. She’s just a nice girl wanting to enjoy an exciting trip and wanting stories for her journal. I’m damn well aware of the circumstances here, and I’ve not done one thing to give your daughter any ideas. I’ve got no fancy thoughts about her, or her money. She’s a nice girl who needs a friend, and I can be that much. If you want her to be a part of this railroad idea, then let her learn about the land. I can teach her. Just don’t be worrying about anything more. Just sitting at this meal here tonight showed me how different—”

  Colt hesitated, realizing then why he had been asked to share their table. He nodded. “I get it. Nip it in the bud, like you said.” He snickered in disgust. “You didn’t have anything to worry about to begin with, but you wanted to rub it in good, didn’t you—show me how much I don’t fit.” He shook his head. “Sunny knows her place just like I know mine. You’ve taught her that—you and Miss Putnam. Give her some breathing room, Mr. Landers, and let her make some of her own decisions. You might be surprised at how much she’s already learned.”

  Landers rose. “I just wanted to be sure we understood each other. I’d like you to be careful how you act toward her the rest of the trip.” He put out his hand. “And I told you to call me Bo. You don’t have to suddenly go back to calling me Mr. Landers.”

  Colt refused his hand. “You don’t need to panic every time your daughter talks to me, Mr. Landers. I’m here to do a job, and I’ll do it. When this trip is over, you’ll go home and I don’t expect any of us will ever see each other again. Now, you either trust me or you don’t. If you don’t, I turn back right now and you can get yourself somebody else.”

  Their eyes held in mutual challenge, and then Landers smiled and nodded. “I trust you,” he said carefully. “And I damn well like you. I respect a man who isn’t afraid to stand up to me. And like I said, call me Bo.”

  Colt breathed deeply, tempted to quit right then but too stubborn to do it. “Be ready to break camp and be on our way come sunrise,” he told Landers. He turned and walked away, kicking at a rock as he headed for Slim’s campfire.

  Colt thought that it was going to be much easier now to avoid forbidden thoughts about Miss Sunny Landers. The more he saw the kind of world she lived in, the less attractive she was to him. Suddenly, rather than any kind of desire she might have stirred in him, he felt only pity for her, a lonely little girl trapped in a life of wealth that would probably bring her nothing but unhappiness. She all but worshipped her father, which meant she would never go against anything he wanted. Nice as she was, she was also one of “them,” and the older she got, the more she would be like them. It was too bad, kind of a waste, he thought.

  “You done with your socializin’ already?” Slim sipped some of his own coffee as Colt loomed into the firelight.

  “I’m done, period.”

  Slim watched him angrily unfold his bedroll, deciding this was not a time to tease. “What happened, son?”

  “Let’s just say Mr. Bo Landers and I know where each of us stands, and believe me, I wouldn’t wear his shoes for all his millions. I’ll tell you more when we ride out tomorrow. I don’t want to talk about it right now.” Colt removed his hat and weapons and boots, keeping his rifle beside him as he settled into his blankets. “Wake me up when it’s time to take over for you.” He put his head back and closed his eyes, but he knew sleep would not come easily. The night air rang with the singing of crickets, and in the distance came the faint sounds of the cooks cleaning up camp. “What a hell of a life,” he grumbled then to Slim. “I should be envying them, but I feel sorry for them instead.”

  “Hmmm.” Slim sipped some coffee. “Don’t be feelin’ sorry for the likes of Bo Landers. He’s made his own bed and likes it just the way it is.” He set his cup aside. “I expect it’s the man’s daughter you feel sorry for.”

  Colt looked across the fire at him, and one red coal popped, sending little sparks into the black night. “I’m not supposed to have any kind of feelings for her, if you get my meaning.” He turned over then, his back to Slim.

  Slim sighed and shook his head. “You’re a good kid, Colt, good as the next man. Don’t ever let anybody tell you any different,” Slim said quietly.

  Colt grinned a little in the darkness. “Thanks. And you’re a good friend. Now let me sleep. We’ve got some long days ahead.”

  Chapter 3

  Ten days ago a fierce thunderstorm and torrential rainfall put a halt to our travels, Sunny wrote. She sat next to a noon campfire while men prepared to leave out again. The rain and wind were so violent that the cook wagon was blown over and our other two wagons got wet inside. Miss Putnam and I and two of my father’s men suffered chills and colds, and I was too ill to make my daily journal entries. I am fully recovered now, but Miss Putnam still lies resting in our sleep wagon. I am very worried about her. We have moved past the Nebraska Sandhills and are now in what Mr. Travis calls High Plains country. It is beautiful here, rolling hills and colorful rugged bluffs. I have never seen such country. The weather is finally sunny again, and I am going to ride horseback this afternoon. I am only allowed to ride two hours a day, and even then I must wear a wide-brimmed hat, for the western sun can age a person very quickly.

  She put down her pen, deciding she would finish her writing later. It was almost time to leave. She thought about the terrible storm and their losses. With the muscle power of all the men, the overturned wagon had been righted. It had taken the rest of that rainy day just to sort through the mess—shattered china, spilled flour, dried peas scattered everywhere. Some food was useless and had to be thrown out, and over half the china was destroyed.

  The cool, rainy weather had continued for six more days, making it difficult to dry out clothes and blankets, and bringing on the mosquitoes in a mighty force. Colt had continued to camp ahead of the wagon train, and Sunny wondered how a man could stand to spend day after day exposed to such weather and not get sick and die. She had wanted very much to ask him about survival in such weather, but for the past month he had almost completely avoided her.

  Ever since the night he had eaten with them, Colt Travis had hardly spoken to her. Sunny could not help being confused over his sudden change, since he had seemed ready enough to talk to her those first couple of weeks of travel. Apparently, her enthusiasm for his exciting life had been interpreted as pesty nosiness, and now he avoided her. She felt like the silly child Colt probably thought she was, and sometimes it made her want to cry.

  She finished her tea and stood up, shading her eyes. Colt had already gone over the next rise, and she could not see him. The land rose and fell here like great stationary waves, and a man could suddenly drop out of sight. A hawk circled overhead, and she looked up to watch it for a moment, thinking how lucky they were that their worst problem so far had been the storm and the loss of a little food and china. The farther west they got, the more graves they saw, some belonging to very young children. It gave her the shivers, especially when her father had mentioned they could be riding right over graves that had long lost their markings. “Those crude little markers can be so quickly destroyed by the elements,” he had told her. She had written about the lonely graves in her journal, wanting to remember everything about this beautiful but dangerous country.

  Her father rode up beside her then, bringing a saddled black mare that was her favorite. “You ready to ride, honey?”

  Sunny smiled. “Yes!” She hurried over to put her journal into her wagon. She tied on her hat and mounted the mare, thinking how this trip had brought her and her father even closer. He was more determined than ever to build his railroad, now that he saw how much a better way of travel was needed. She watched him give orders to one of the cooks, proud of how hardy and determined he had remained through the hardsh
ips. Today, as every day, he wore a sturdy three-piece suit, but because of the inconveniences of the trip, his suits could not be properly cleaned and some were beginning to look wrinkled and soiled. Sunny could see the old ruggedness in him when she watched him carry on, dirty suits and all. She had discovered a new side to her father, one that was willing to sacrifice his own comforts for something he thought was much more important.

  They trotted their horses up the gently sloped hill over which Colt had disappeared, hoping to spot him when they reached the top.

  “It’s such big country, Daddy. We’ve traveled hardly a third of it, and we’ve already been out here for six weeks. How long do you think it would take to build a railroad clear across it?”

  Bo looked to the south, wondering how many miles it was possible to see with the naked eye. “Oh, I expect such a railroad will take years, and an awful lot of money, a whole lot more than what I might be able to raise through my connections. The important thing is to convince the president and Congress of the worthiness of such an idea. This trip has done wonders for my determination now to see this thing through.”

  They were nearly halfway up the hill, and already the horses were breathing harder. The animals grew tired more easily now, since the last few days the ground just seemed to swell higher and higher. Sometimes it was such a gradual ascent that they were hardly aware they were climbing, until the animals would begin to strain and sweat.

  “Do you think we have enough food to reach Fort Laramie?”

  “I expect so, if we go easy like Colt told us. Maybe he’ll bring us some fresh meat. Trouble is, game is pretty scarce around here now, after so many coming through before us. Colt says that’s what makes the Indians so angry. I can see already that once we bring a railroad out here, things are going to have to change for the Indians. Something is going to have to be done, more treaty-making, whatever. They can’t just roam free wherever they please, and with a loss of game they’re going to have to learn to live more like civilized people to survive.”

  Sunny thought about what Colt had said about the Cherokee being so civilized back in Georgia. If they were, then why had they been routed out and sent west? Just because they were Indians? Could the wilder Indians of the Plains learn to farm and live in brick homes? “Daddy, I do wish you would talk Colt into letting me ask him just a few more questions. There is so much I still want to know.”

  Bo stiffened, hoping the girl never discovered his deliberate attempt at keeping her and Colt Travis apart. He was glad Colt had been mature enough to see the foolishness in any kind of friendship with Sunny and had done his own part in helping stem his daughter’s childish fantasies. “Well, maybe when we reach the fort. We’ll have time to rest up, and maybe Colt can spend a couple of hours with you before he leaves us.”

  “Leaves us?”

  “Yes. He agreed to go as far as Laramie, which is where we will probably turn around and come back. Maybe we’ll go even a little farther west first, check out that South Pass Colt told us about. We’ll be able to find new scouts at the fort, maybe even get permission to have a few soldiers accompany us. Colt and Slim will be going on from there, said they’d settle for two hundred and fifty dollars each for not returning with us. They’re heading down to the Pikes Peak area, something about doing some scouting for the prospectors.”

  “But they agreed to stay with us on the whole trip.” Sunny struggled not to show her terrible disappointment. Why did it hurt so to think of Colt’s leaving them?

  “Well, honey, maybe our little wagon train and our fancy ways have them a little bored. Men like Slim and Colt are always looking for new action and excitement. I suppose if we were part of a much bigger wagon train that was more of a challenge, they might stick it out. That’s the way it is with such men. They’re like the wind, blowing and drifting in different directions, not very dependable.”

  Sunny weighed her father’s explanation, still finding it difficult to believe the reasons for Colt’s actions. But then, what did she know about men like that? This was her first experience with this life and the kind of people who lived out in this wilderness, and it was true it would have to take a very different sort of man to want always to live this way. In some ways she could understand it, for she had grown to love this country and the peace she found here. But she knew deep down that she could not live this way the rest of her life. She sometimes missed the bustling streets of Chicago, the parties, the comforts of home, even the board meetings she attended with her father. She had grown to like the challenge of the business world, enjoyed watching her father bribe and cajole his cohorts and even congressmen to get what he wanted. He was a master at persuading others, and she had learned that bribing was just another tool a man had to use to accomplish his goals and dreams.

  Her thoughts were interrupted then by Colt himself, who appeared at the top of the rise and rode toward them. In spite of what both Miss Putnam and her father had told her about how undependable and wild and worthless he surely was, she still could not help the rush of her heart whenever she saw him. How wonderful he looked, the way he sat a horse, his dark shoulder-length hair spilling from under his leather hat, the fringes of his buckskins dancing with his horse’s gait. How intimidating he looked, sporting that big knife and that wide ammunition belt, a pistol at his side. This was his realm, as much a part of his life as mansions and boardrooms were to her and her father.

  “You two have been wanting to see a herd of buffalo,” he called to them, riding closer. “Now’s your chance. Once you reach the top of the rise, hold up and just look. Don’t move around too much and don’t do any shouting. There’s one of the biggest herds over that rise that I’ve seen in a while.”

  Bo nodded. “Ride back and tell the others.”

  Colt could not help glancing at Sunny, secretly relieved she was all right after taking the chills a few days earlier. He knew she must be wondering why he had suddenly begun ignoring her, and he wished sometimes that he could explain; but in spite of his fury with her father, he knew the man was right in insisting their friendship not be allowed to go any deeper.

  He tipped his hat to her and left. He was glad, even relieved, that he had made the decision to leave their little excursion once they reached Fort Laramie. He wished Sunny had turned out to be more like he had first expected—spoiled, sassy, rude, and complaining—but she had been nothing but sweet and cooperative, even strong and brave. The violent storm they had suffered through and her own illness afterward had not brought a complaint. He realized he had to stop thinking about her, and that was not going to happen unless he left her and her father behind once he got them to safety.

  “Buffalo ahead,” he told the rest of the men. “Leave the wagons here and go up on foot or horseback. When you reach the top of the ridge, don’t do any shouting, and keep the horses still.” He turned and rode back toward Sunny and Bo. Stuart and several others quickly mounted up and followed him, and the rest, including the cooks, ran up on foot.

  Miss Putnam sat up and looked out the back of her wagon, deciding to stay inside. “Buffalo!” she muttered. She coughed and sneezed and settled back into her blankets. She had no interest in buffalo or Indians or anything else in this godforsaken land. Her only interest was in getting back to Chicago and the comforts of civilization.

  Colt skirted around a washout in the side of the hill and headed higher. His horse snorted and shuddered as he forced the animal to climb back up the steep incline. When he reached the top, Sunny was pointing and exclaiming at the sight of a sea of buffalo almost as far as the eye could see. She spoke in whispers, as though they were in church, as did everyone else who gawked at the awesome sight.

  “You could almost walk across their backs,” Sunny said quietly.

  “Soon as they get past us I’ll ride down and try to kill one,” Colt told Landers. “I want to wait until we’re out of danger. They’re heading northeast
right now, away from us.” His horse whinnied, and Colt patted its neck to quiet the animal. “Even a small one will keep us in meat for a long time. It will take me a couple of days to skin and clean it. I’ll keep the hide for possible trade to Indians. At any rate, Slim will take over while I’m gone.”

  “Where is Slim now?” Sunny asked.

  Colt scanned the wide plain before them, the hills beyond it. “He’s around the west end there, checking out some tracks we’ve been keeping an eye on for a couple of days now. I think they’re buffalo hunters. Scum of the earth, as far as I’m concerned.”

  Sunny studied his profile, the straight, proud nose, the full lips, the prominent brow. “Why do you say that?”

  Colt leaned forward, crossing his arms and resting them on the pommel of his saddle. “Most of the ones I’ve met think they can make up their own laws, steal what they want from travelers and the like. There aren’t many out here yet, but there will be more. Buffalo hides are becoming more popular back east. The biggest problem is the hunters kill the beasts for their hides alone and leave the rest of the animal to rot, wasting the meat, the bones, everything the Indians need to live on. That just makes the Indians angrier, and they take that anger out on travelers and settlers. As far as I’m concerned, there should be a law against such waste.”