Unconquerable Callie
Page 16
She raised her face, looking to him for reassurance.
“I know it is,” he said softly. “We’d be fools to underestimate it. Foolish even not to be afraid. Some fear is good—it builds respect. And, Callie, respect is what we need to give that hill. But if we give in and let fear rule, it’ll own us and we’re lost before we even begin. I need you, honey.” The endearment slipped out unnoticed by the tall man with the weight of the wagon train on his shoulders. “The women look to you to set the pace. You’re not just their representative to the council, you’re their north star. And, believe you me, they set their course by you. If you’re afraid, they’re afraid. If you say it can’t be done, they’ll say it can’t be done. And,” he paused, “so will their husbands. We don’t have a choice. We have to descend the hill to get to Ash Hollow. After we conquer this challenge, Callie, we shouldn’t have another one of this size. When we reach South Pass, we’re half way there. If we can keep up the pace we’re doing now, we’ll be in Oregon City way before the snow falls.”
“Just tell me what to do, and I’ll do it.” Callie’s spark flared up in her eyes. “I didn’t cut off my hair and stick my hands in buffalo chips just to let a hill make me turn tail and run.”
“That’s my girl. I’ll call a meeting and we’ll go over what to expect tomorrow. We’ll turn in early and start early. And by tomorrow night, we’ll camp along Ash Creek. I expect to see those white curls back and shining. Maybe even a clean face.”
Chapter 29
The men formed a line. There was some jostling as the stoutest took their places along with the weakest. No one could be spared. There were pieces of hides, rags, blankets, clothing, anything that could be wrapped around hands, hoping to offer some protection from cuts and rope burns.
Seth was everywhere, encouraging, explaining, issuing orders.
Callie watched him as he brought order to what could have easily been pandemonium.
Women crying added to the cacophony of sound, as wagons were lightened and treasures left behind.
Callie moved to stand by Phyllis, noticing that tears silently streamed down her friend’s face.
“Phyllis?”
“Its okay, Callie.” The woman gave a weak smile. She glanced at an oak highboy dresser standing forlornly, by some scrub grass. There wasn’t a speck of dust on it and Callie knew it had just been lovingly dusted and shined. At the foot of the highboy rested a chest full of dishes. The lid was up, exposing a large platter and gravy boat, with rims painted in translucent roses.
“My mother’s.” Phyllis swallowed back a sob. “The dishes are all I had left of her.” Her tear-filled eyes found Callie’s. “Too heavy. The wagon had to be lightened. We had to be practical. Jacob left the dishes until last, but there’s too many of them. Too heavy.” She repeated the words like a talisman.
“The highboy belonged to Jacob’s grandfather. It’s been in the family for years and when his grandfather passed on, it was given to the eldest boy. We planned to give it to Caleb, when he settled and got married.”
Callie put her arms around Phyllis’ shoulder. Her friend felt fragile, weakened by the loss. She, too, had a few precious keepsakes belonging to her mother. So far, her wagon’s weight had passed muster. Seth had said he thought hers was one of the lighter ones. She prayed he was right. Still, if it came down to leaving a keepsake or a barrel of flour, she would do what Phyllis had done. She would do the sensible thing.
“Our wagon will go first, Mother.” Jacob came over to them, speaking gently in the presence of grief.
“I’m ready,” Phyllis said, and a brave smile banished her tears. She followed her husband to where Seth and several other men had tied logs and large rocks to the wagon, in hopes their added weight would act as brakes. Two other heavy ropes were wound securely around the axle then left trailing in the dust to be picked up by men who would use their bodies, and all their strength, in a tug-of-war to control the speed of the wagon as it descended the sloping hill.
Callie was glad her wagon wasn’t first. They would learn on the first and, hopefully, by her turn, all errors would be corrected. She said a silent prayer for her friend’s wagon, and slowly went over to the chest of discarded dishes. She bent down, and with a furtive look, attempted to lift the heavy chest. It took all her strength and Callie prayed she wouldn’t drop it, shattering her spur-of-the-moment plan. Thankfully, her wagon was off to the side, waiting its turn. No one paid any attention to her. All eyes were on the Monroe family’s wagon as it began the laborious descent. She didn’t make it all the way to her wagon before she had to set down the heavy load. Her arms gave out just as it touched the ground and she knew she didn’t have the strength to lift it again. Quickly, she bent over and began dragging the chest. At the rear of the wagon, she straightened her back. How would she ever lift the darn thing into her wagon?
She heard shouts coming from the front and she worried things were moving fast. If she were to rescue Phyllis dishes, the time had to be now. Swiftly, and with great care, she unloaded the dishes and carried them one-by-one inside. Empty, the chest was no problem. Callie was out of breath by the time she repacked the dishes, pushed the chest behind a barrel, and covered it with a quilt. She took a moment to congratulate herself before a thought hit her. What if the added weight of the chest placed her wagon in the same predicament as the Monroe’s and many of the other’s on the train? She couldn’t think that way. She had to have faith. Faith and the conviction that when it was her turn for Seth to take his customary second look at each wagon’s weight, before lowering it, she would quickly leave the dishes should it deem necessary. While she wanted to surprise Phyllis, nothing would induce her to put anyone at risk.
Following shouts and raised voices, Callie pushed through to the front, where a frightening scene revealed itself. The Monroe’s wagon, having a life of its own, fought to gain speed and tumbled down the slope, three hundred feet down, by Seth’s estimation. Callie held her breath. The wagon was gaining. Two rows of men braced their heels and dug in. Leaning back, perpendicular to the ground, arms corded and neck muscles bulged to hard ridges, they fought what was surely an unfair battle. If they lost this the first wagon, what hope could there be for the rest?
Callie assessed the inequitable situation. She took a deep breath, and ran to the last man on the nearest line. She paused long enough to tear off her neck scarf and wrap it around her right hand. She stooped for the tail end of the rope, then turned her head to the watching women.
“Position yourselves. The men need our help,” she yelled. “We can do this, ladies.”
It took a second for Callie’s words to sink in. Then with a shout, the women ran to any open space between the men, grabbing whatever piece of the taut rope they could. Some had slowed enough to protect their hands. Others did not. Several of the older women stayed with the children, as mothers quickly handed over babies to any outstretched arm.
Like a giant centipede, its rope belly cocooned by hands, the many legs dug in and held.
“Easy, now! Feed a little slack, but don’t let too much rope out at once.” Seth’s voice rang out calm and true.
The wheels dug into the side of the hill, making deep ruts, as, inch-by-inch, the wagon rolled to its final resting place at the bottom. For a moment the only sound was the hint of a breeze, as it whispered across each sweat dampened brow. Then with one voice a shout went up. They had done it. The first wagon had made it safely.
Callie arched her back and with torn, stiff fingers wiped her forehead, unaware she’d left drops of blood behind. Sitting down hard on the ground, she caught her breath. She filled with pride. Pride in every darn person on the train.
As eyes met, grins broke out. No one mentioned cut hands or sore backs. They had a train of wagons to lower to the bottom of a hill.
Seth pronounced her wagon’s weight okay. But when it came tim
e for it to be lowered, her stomach churned. Her breakfast of coffee churned, too. It was for naught. Her wagon, safe and intact, bumped lightly as the wheels touched ground. This time when they all cheered, Callie’s voice was the loudest.
They had met their fears like they would meet other hardships. No one would give up and quit. Or, as defeated settlers were fond of saying when turning back, no one had seen the elephant today.
Chapter 30
That evening, Seth visited each camp and examined raw, bloody hands, some with embedded pieces of rope deep in cuts. Women as well as men turned palms up for him to inspect. He offered salve and praise.
He’d met his goal. Not one wagon was lost. More importantly, no one had been hurt. No life taken. They were tired, bruised, and battered, but they were no longer wearing coats of prairie dust and trying to swallow past dry throats. Ash Hollow Creek had taken care of that. The trees and scrub brush offered a welcome respite from the dry prairie. The water was pure, there was wood to burn, and plenty of grass for the stock. And though the travelers were too tired to make much of a supper, there was coffee aplenty.
Seth found Callie sitting on a log in front of her wagon, her head down, resting on her arms. Her freshly washed hair curled damply around her neck, the moonlight turning it to creamy white. He hesitated, not wanting to disturb her.
As if sensing a presence, she raised her head and gave him a tired, but familiar, sassy grin.
“Callie. Are you ever going to quit surprising me?” He hunkered down beside her and took one hand in his, turning it palm up. He wasn’t prepared for the pain that engulfed him at seeing her raw and cut skin. His quick intake of breath said it all.
“They’re not as bad as they look. At least I’m clean. I must have scrubbed for an hour. The creek ran muddy,” she said, trying for a laugh.
“Lost your gray hair.” He reached out and gently twirled one soft curl around his finger. “I’m going to miss the old man.”
“Well, he won’t be entirely gone. I don’t plan to put a dress or skirt back on for the rest of the trip.”
“Like those pants, huh?”
She grinned impudently. “I still think you men are selfish keeping the pleasure of pants from women. I may wear them forever.”
“Well, I don’t know about forever. I’m getting used to them, but what about your fiancé?”
Callie took a deep breath. Desperate to change the subject, she asked, “Is it too late to walk over to the abandoned ‘soddy’?”
“It’s dark, Callie.”
“Oh. Yes. Sure. I know. Guess time got away from me.”
Seth chuckled. “There’ll be plenty of time to look it over, even leave a letter there, if you want. Lot of people leave letters and money for postage hoping some eastward bound traveler will take them back to the States. We’re laying over tomorrow. I think we all need time to lick our wounds.”
“Weren’t they wonderful, Seth?”
“The women? Yes, they were. But you set the example. When I saw you light out for that rope, I wanted to yell at you to stay back out of harm’s way. But before I could say anything, the other women were following your lead, and the load was lightened. In all my years of taking wagons down that damn hill, nary a woman has put forth a helping hand.” His voice lowered, full of emotions he couldn’t hide. “Until you. If I haven’t said it before, I’ll say it again. You are a woman to cross the river with. I’d take you over anyone.”
With infinite tenderness, he lifted both wounded palms to his mouth and placed feathery silk kisses across them. The moon came from behind a cloud and shone on Seth’s face. The day’s stress etched across his brow, but the glow of pride, or something else emanated from his eyes.
“I wish . . .” he whispered the faltering words.
Callie knew then that a part of her heart was breaking, and that before this was all over, it would be shattered. Did she dare tell him? Would he hate her if he knew the truth? Would he never look at her like this again? Would he shun her as the liar she was? He was a man of honor. A man who expected no less from his woman. No, she couldn’t tell him. She couldn’t take the risk. Better to shatter into a million pieces than to see disgust and loathing in his eyes. This pain when they separated would be her punishment for using trickery to get her way.
Her eyes were downcast as she fought with her conscience. When she raised them, he was gone. Her fingertips brushed across the palm of her hand tracing the path his lips had made. She closed her palm, cupping his essence inside. She couldn’t have Seth, but she would have memories. That she could have.
The following morning, Callie woke up with a sense of purpose. She would make the most of her remaining time on the wagon train. She would store up enough of that powerful man to last a lifetime. The new start waiting for her at South Pass would have to suffice. She had fought for it. She wasn’t proud of what she’d done to get this far, but she would have done it all over again. She had left nothing behind to follow a dream to a real life. Like the sailors of old, she’d fixed her sights on a guiding star and each day brought her closer to the shore, her very own Promised Land.
Later that day, she and Phyllis walked over to the soddy. She left a letter to her aunt, along with postage money. She wasn’t worried. If the letter didn’t make it back East, there would be opportunity enough when she reached her destination—South Pass.
“You’re awfully quiet, Callie,” Phyllis said. “Aren’t you thrilled we’ve made so many miles? When we get to Chimney Rock, Jacob says we will have traveled about 550 miles from Independence, Missouri.” The woman shook her head. “We were babies then,” she said softly. “We thought we knew all we needed to know about life on the trail. But I’d say Ash Hollow grew us up, wouldn’t you?” She laughed. “Oh, Callie, I do hope we settle somewhere near each other in Oregon.”
Callie reached out and gave her friend a hug, hoping that would suffice for an answer. Leaving Phyllis was another heartache she hadn’t counted on. For a moment, she pondered her decision to settle at South Pass, but only for a moment. She knew in her heart of heart that South Pass Wyoming, was where she was meant to be. Oregon held nothing for her. There was no land, no dreams, and no man waiting for her. But in South Pass, she had a chance, an opportunity to build her own dreams. The thought of her bakery brought a smile to her lips. It would be hard work, but it would take her mind off the pain and emptiness she would feel as the train pulled out, leaving her behind.
She debated about confiding in Phyllis, confessing to her, but quickly decided that by doing so, she would be placing her friend in an awkward position. Phyllis would be drawn into keeping Callie’s secret. No, there had been too much misrepresentation already. As much as she needed someone to talk to, to reassure her, she valued Phyllis too much. The guilt of it all must be on her shoulders only.
“Callie?” Phyllis’ voice cut into Callie’s thoughts, pulling her back to the present.
“I’m sorry, Phyllis. Wool gathering.”
“That’s okay. I was just wondering if you noticed Seth often has a sad look on his face lately?” She shrugged. “It’s probably nothing more than nostalgia, knowing this will be his last wagon train.”
“Has he . . . has he mentioned what he plans to do after he gets all of you, uh, all of us, safely to Oregon?”
“No, not really. He did mention something to Jacob once that he has some ranch land and a stake in a small business, but I don’t know if he said where. Wouldn’t you think it would be Oregon?”
“Yes,” Callie said absently. So Seth already had something waiting for him at the end of the trail. Maybe he had a “someone,” too. The thought filled her with a deep sadness. Was this the confirmation she was looking for? A sign she was doing the right thing?
Callie bit her lip, then in a small voice asked, “Does Seth have someone waiting for him?”
“No, of course not,” Callie muttered.
“Evening, ladies.” Seth’s voice, coming from behind, startled them.
She and Phyllis looked guiltily at each other. Surely he hadn’t overheard them discussing him.
He wore a puzzled expression as both women blushed and stuttered their response.
“Callie, did you get you letter posted at the soddy?” he asked.
“Uh, yes, I did.”
“Good. I imagine your fiancé will be glad to get it. He must be worried about you.”
“My fiancé?”
“That’s who you letter was to, wasn’t it?”
“Oh. Yes. Of course, to my fiancé.”
Phyllis faced her with a frown.
Callie swallowed. She’d told Phyllis the letter was to her aunt. There had been no letter to a fiancé.
Before Phyllis could open her mouth to voice a question, Callie shot to her feet. “Gosh, I forgot I left bread rising. It’ll be up and over the pan if I don’t get it punched down. See you later tonight, Seth. Well, maybe not. I have several more things to do before I turn in.” She was babbling, and she knew it. She also knew she had to get away from his questions.
“Phyllis, would you mind coming with me? I’ll get you that pan you asked to borrow.”
“Pan? Wha—”
“The, uh, the cake pan.” And before Phyllis could throw out any more questions, Callie grabbed her hand and pulled her along, leaving Seth standing in the trail.