Unconquerable Callie

by DeAnn Smallwood

  Callie visualized the scene Seth painted. She saw men with their feet planted, heels dug in, backs strained. Men with thick rope wrapped around bare hands, leaving bloody cuts and blister as weight and determination pitted against the heavy wagon. Men with sweat beading their brows. Men risking their lives.

  “Is there no other way?” she asked, knowing the answer.

  He shook his head. “Just keep the promise of Ash Hollow before you, Callie. The promise of Ash Hollow and Oregon and”—he lowered his voice—“and your fiancé.”

  Then he melted into the night, his words nearly doubling her over with their weight.

  She kicked dirt over the waiting coals, her desire for coffee gone. On the way to her wagon, she prayed to put Seth’s parting words out of her mind.

  As she climbed into the back of the wagon, she lifted her heavy skirt, noticing the thin line of dust hemming it. Well, she had a plan. A feeble one, granted, but a plan, nevertheless. Her oxen would not stampede with heat and thirst. Her wagon would not break free and go crashing down that darn hill, spilling out her life and her dreams. Her lie would not be in vain, but would serve her well, getting her what she wanted. It darn well better. The price was high and getting higher with every passing day.

  Chapter 27

  Callie tilted her chin to face the awakening dawn and the peach-colored sky. Leading the feisty mare and, looking neither left nor right, she strode past her oxen, giving Caleb a slight nod.

  “Better close your mouth, Caleb. It’ll catch flies,” Callie said curtly.

  Like a spring door, Caleb’s mouth snapped shut. “Uh,” he faltered, “that’s a right pretty horse, Callie.”

  Then, not leaving well enough alone, he added, “And you look right pretty, too.”

  Caleb’s words earned him a scathing glance, freezing him in place, his Adam’s apple working furiously in his throat.

  The horse jerked on the end of the rope and Callie pulled her up short. “Don’t you dare call any more attention to me than I have already managed,” she whispered to the mare.

  Callie made a determined line toward Seth, whose forearms rested across the pommel of his saddle, reins lax, shoulders relaxed. His face was impassive, giving no clue as to his emotions.

  Seth watched the woman who effortlessly fascinated him approach. She stopped in front of him, gave him a measuring look, then lowered her eyes level with his boots. Her jaw was clenched tight, and if body language could speak, she gave an undeniable warning.

  Grinning, he ignored the storm signals. “Morning, Sir,” he said. “Haven’t seen you in these parts. You fixin’ on joinin’ the train? We can always use an extra man.”

  “That is not a bit funny, Seth McCallister.” Callie raised her eyes to meet his mocking ones. She kicked at the fine dirt, raising a cloud and causing the mare to jerk her head and back up a few steps. “I’m not dragging around those heavy skirts and petticoats in this dust any longer. I bought these pants and shirt in Independence.” She brushed a hand down the doeskin pants. The butternut yellow matching shirt, sleeves fringed, looked soft, yet durable. Both fit Callie like a glove leaving no doubt that although they were men’s clothing, a lovely young woman wore them.

  His mouth quirked. “Mmm, hmm. Well, the men will envy you such a fine outfit and the women . . .” He paused, searching for words. “The women will . . .” He stopped, unable to finish.

  “The women will what?” Callie asked. “Dislike me for dressing like a man? Dislike me for flaunting convention and getting rid of the heavy skirts and petticoats? No matter how much you shake, the dust clings to every ruffle and flounce. It was one thing when there was water for washing. Now we don’t even have enough water to drink much less do laundry.”

  Then, in a more conciliatory tone, she said, “You’re a prophet, Seth. You warned us we’d eat, sleep and drink dust before we reached water again. This morning, when I had to turn my head to keep the dust in my skirt out of my nostrils, I knew it was time to put the ladies’ clothing into a trunk. It was time to dress like the trail demands. And these pants and shirt”— She ran her hand down one leg—“If they make me less of a woman, so be it.”

  She took a deep breath, then went to the side of the waiting mare, her head bobbing up and down as if in agreement with all she had said. She grabbed a handful of mane and pulled herself up and onto the horse’s back, sitting rigid, her hands clutching the reins, her face a map of shock, surprise, then delight. A grin worked itself across her face as her blue eyes sparkled. She tilted her hat, the sun-tipped white curls impishly framing her face, “Wow! Did you see? I almost went over the other side. What a difference.” She paused, catching her breath. “What a selfish, stingy man you are.”

  He frowned. “What are you blaming me for, Callie?”

  “I’m blaming you and”—she waved her arm expansively—“and all men for hiding from every woman on this train how much easier it is to walk, mount a horse, and who knows what else, wearing pants. Oh, I’d like to just for one day, no just for one hour, that would be enough, put a dress and petticoats on you. Just see how you’d like it. Dirty, dusty, heavy. Selfish.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Just plain selfish.” She nudged the mare with the heels of her boots and, without giving him a chance to do more than sputter, she rode back to where Caleb and the hot, thirsty oxen slowly rounded the bend.

  Seth swallowed his laughter, holding it inside of him until he thought he would burst. Thankfully, Callie was out of hearing before the gut-busting laugh rumbled out. His horse nervously sidestepping under him. Tears ran down his weather-tanned cheeks. Finally, he leaned over the pommel gasping for air. “Callie.” Her name was weak on his lips, a chuckle catching in his throat. “Aw, Callie.” He roughly brushed a sleeve across his damp cheeks, as another peel of laughter rose. He shook his head and gave his horse a nudge. The sun was baking the already parched earth, the dust as thick and cloying as ever, his worries still perched on his shoulders. Still, he felt lighter. He thought of her dancing eyes and scolding tongue, all spirit and delight.

  “Lord love you, Callie.” Under his breath, he added, “For I sure do.”

  Callie quickly dismounted, and nimbly climbed inside her wagon, relishing her newfound agility. In a few short minutes, she was back out and on the ground, a large bundle in her arms.

  “Caleb,” she said. “I need your help.”

  Caleb looked apprehensively at Callie, then at the bundle in her hands.

  “Help?” he asked.

  Callie nodded. “Put a dipper of water, no, better make that two dippers, into a bucket and bring it here.” She was so intent on the task, she didn’t notice Caleb hadn’t moved until he cleared his throat.

  “A couple dippers, Caleb.” Annoyance crept into Callie’s voice.

  “Uh, what with water being so short, uh . . .”

  “Two Dippers!”

  Caleb grabbed a bucket. Careful not to spill a drop, he measured out the two dippers, replaced the oak lid, and carried the bucket to Callie. He glanced at the bundle, but wisely held his tongue.

  “Two dippers,” he said.

  “Good. Now sprinkle the water equally over both oxen.”

  “Sprinkle?”

  “Dampen them down. Hurry. I don’t want any of the water to evaporate.”

  “Ain’t gonna last long on their backs. Hope you know what you’re doing, cause it ‘pears to me we’re wasting—”

  “‘Pears to me,” Callie began, “that you and I are going to keep our oxen cool regardless of how fierce that sun beats down. They maybe thirsty, but they won’t be driven to stampeding because of heat craze. Keeping them cooler will help with thirst, too.”

  “I still don’t understand how . . .” Caleb’s face showed his disbelief.

  “Just help me.” Callie sighed. “I haven’t let you down yet
, have I?”

  Caleb shook his head, then smiled as he dipped his hand in the bucket. Gently shaking the water from his fingers, the droplets fell like gentle rain on the oxen.

  “Perfect.” Callie held up her hands. “Next, let’s spread this rush mat across their backs and up over their heads. We’ll lash it to the yoke. Our oxen will have a tent to hold the moisture in and keep the sun out.” For a moment, her voice broke with doubt. “This was my idea when I wove the reeds while we camped by the Missouri. Figured there was a good chance we’d have a dry stretch. Some of the women were weaving reed mats for their wagon beds, but I decided to weave reeds for our oxen. If it works, the mats will let the air in, but underneath, the oxen will be cool and damp.”

  “Darn, Callie.” A grin spread across Caleb’s face. “They’ll be a sight, but we’re gonna have the coolest oxen around.” He quickly finished his sprinkling, then reached for the mat.

  Between them, they covered the oxen, from their heads to their tails, letting it peek over their heads like an oversized bonnet. The oxen plodded along, as she and Caleb pulled and lashed the one-of-a-kind tent. The placid beasts never missed a step, seemingly to sense that all the unusual commotion was for their benefit.

  Gingerly, Callie put her hand in under the mat, running it along one animal’s backs. The skin was cooler. A lot cooler. A smile crept across her face, then erupted into a grin. Caleb stuck his hand under the mat. Smile for smile, grin for grin, they removed their hands.

  “Dang. For a while there, I thought the heat had gotten to you, Callie. But, well, dang!”

  “All we have to do is occasionally dampen their backs. I don’t have to wash dresses anymore, so the water I save will go to the oxen. We can do it, Caleb. We can make it stretch until we get to Ash Hollow.”

  “Yep.” Caleb nodded. “Not only do we have the coolest oxen in the train, we have the purtiest.”

  Word spread and throughout the day men stopped to examine Callie’s oxen. Some even ventured to rub calloused hands under the mats to feel the cool dampness. There was a lot of head shaking.

  Oddly enough, nothing was said. Seth didn’t come into camp until after dark, for which Callie was grateful. However, that night, more than a few rush mats were excised from wagon beds and, at morning light, when the train pulled out to the familiar “Wagons Ho,” more than one set of oxen wore finery from the banks of the Missouri River.

  Chapter 28

  The dust was terrible. At times, Callie felt as though she were wading through it up to her knees. The train made better time now, some days covering twenty miles. There was still no water and rationing was strict. At the end of the day, they all looked like a herd of raccoons, with only their nose and mouth visible around the dirt. At first it was laughable, then the laughter stopped and stoic acceptance took its place. Everyone wishing for clear, cold water to wash away the dust.

  “I’m sick of this infernal dust,” Callie muttered, not thinking anyone could hear her. “But I’d trade being clean for a drink of cold spring water.”

  “Your hair’s turned gray. You look like an old man.” Seth chuckled, knowing he didn’t look any better.

  “Quit sneaking up on me, Seth McCallister. The mood I’m in, I just might shoot you. And if you can’t tell gray hair from prairie dust, then you need to be shot and put out of your misery.”

  “Whew! Your tongue puts a snake’s to shame.”

  “I know we’re all doing the best we can, but some days I have to look darn hard to find anything to be thankful for.” Then a wicked grin widened the little bit of cleanliness on Callie’s face. “I do have buffalo chips to be thankful for.”

  “Buffalo chips?” He frowned.

  “Sure. I’m darned thankful that since we’re now gathering buffalo chips for fuel, it only takes two or three baskets, not four or five, to heat one meal. Dang things burn so fast!”

  “You’ve really hit bottom when you start being thankful for buffalo chips. Like gathering them, do you?”

  “I hate it. When I get to South Pass . . .”

  Seth grinned. “You mean to Oregon.”

  Quickly, Callie corrected herself, hoping that Seth credited the mistake to the miserable conditions and her mood.

  “Of course I mean Oregon. When I get to Oregon, I’m going to take a hundred baths. I’m going to drink gallons of water. I’m going to put perfume and lotion all over me so I smell like something other than a buffalo chip.”

  Seth’s laughter filled the air and reached deep into her soul. She felt herself smiling and when he put his arm around her, gently pulling her to him, the buffalo chips, dust, and thirst receded into distant memory. Magically, the surrounding area became a paradise where creeks flowed, flowers bloomed, and sweet breezes played. She allowed herself to lean into the refuge of his strong arms. He smelled of wood smoke and leather, pleasant and reassuring. Seth was a pillar of strength in this harsh land.

  “I miss those white curls, Callie,” he murmured into her hair. “They reminded me of mountain snow.”

  She raised her face, waiting for his kiss, but his arms relaxed and he gently pushed her away, a grim look on his face.

  “My apologies.” He avoided looking at her. “I guess the oxen aren’t the only ones that are a little heat-crazed.” He cleared his throat, his voice gruff. “I came by to give you some good news not to . . .”

  Callie nodded, not trusting herself to speak. How she longed to be rid of the lie. It had become a large black spider, spinning and trapping her within its ever-growing web. Each kindness, each touch, each smile from Seth reminded her that this honorable man would never forgive or understand her deceit. She had only herself to blame, and only herself for comfort when she reached her destination and started a new life without him.

  “The good news is we’ll be at the hill above Ash Hollow tomorrow. We’ll start the descent the next morning and with any luck, by nightfall, you’ll be enjoying a good spring, feed for the stock, and plenty of shade. Try to get to bed early tonight. The hill will take everything we’ve got.”

  He turned away. “I’ll see you at supper tonight. Henry came back with several sage hens. They’ll be a welcome treat and Phyllis has invited us to share their portion.”

  “Thanks for the good news.” Her words were softly spoken and went unheard by the man that strode purposely away.

  Callie didn’t join them at supper. She pleaded tiredness and stayed buttoned up in her wagon, not wanting to be near Seth. She felt as if she were being torn in two. One part of her wanted to spend every possible minute in Seth’s presence. The other wanted to avoid him. She fell asleep praying no one would be hurt as they pitted themselves against another obstacle ahead, one that nature enjoyed putting in their path.

  Seth didn’t stop by for coffee next morning. Callie didn’t see him until the wagons circled for lunch. Henry Henry rode by and said the lunching would end the day’s travel. They were close to the top of the hill.

  Callie finished her noon chores, and, with her heart in her throat, joined several others hiking along the hill’s rim. As she peered down the precipitous slope, she knew her apprehension was justified. Seth had been overly optimistic. It would be impossible for men to hold the wagons back during the descent. They would crash, belongings would be lost, and lives would be taken.

  She’d felt so helpless when the Missouri River had taken one life. She had felt fear with every breath when they had traveled through Indian country. She’d worried endlessly about oxen stampeding with the heat. She had lamented the dust and lack of water. But none of this compared with the terror that gripped her as she shielded her eyes to see the bottom, where Ash Creek wound its way through the ash trees. She took a couple faltering steps back and came up against Seth’s strong chest.

  “Easy,” he said softly, his hands steadying her.

&nbs
p; “Seth.” Her voice rose. “We can’t do this. It’s madness. We’ll all be—”

  “Callie,” he growled. His hands dug into her shoulders. “Stop it. Fear’s like a prairie fire. A spark of it will catch and destroy everything in its path.” He led her backward, stumbling over the grass and brush until they reached a couple of large rocks.

  “Sit,” he commanded.

  Callie leaned against one of the boulders and made herself breathe slowly, trying to steady her pounding heart. She closed her eyes and shut her mind to the vision of wagons crashing, rolling out of control, crushing everything and everyone in their path.

  Seth waited patiently. He knew Callie’s reaction was one shared by all of the women and many of the men on the train. The hill was formidable. But it could be descended. He’d done it before. So far with just a few injuries, mostly broken bones, smashed hands, and sore backs. No deaths. He intended to keep his record intact, even to improve on it. He wasn’t going to let this, his last train, become a ghost of bad memories, haunting him the rest of his life. And he sure as hell wasn’t going to let anything happen to Callie. She may belong to another man, but in his heart, she was his, and until he delivered her safe and sound to her fiancé in Oregon City, she would remain so.

  He had to fight back anger that built in him each time he thought of the man who’d allowed Callie to take this harrowing journey alone. Although, he smiled to himself, she had done a damn fine job of it, showing more grit that a lot of the men. The people on the train looked up to her and her unfailing courage.

  Callie took a deep, shuddering breath. “I’m sorry, Seth. I don’t know what came over me. But that hill . . . It’s scary. It’s more than scary, it’s terrifying.”