Unconquerable Callie

by DeAnn Smallwood

  “Evening.” She called the farewell over her shoulder, and quickly covered the distance to the sanctuary of her wagon.

  Once there, Phyllis jerked her hand from Callie’s grip.

  “Okay, Callie, explain. Cake pan, my foot.”

  “I didn’t want Seth following us so I had to think of something. Callie told the half-truth.

  “And what would be wrong with Seth following us? He’s been to your wagon many times.”

  “Phyllis,” Callie said as she threw back the canvas flap and stepped into the wagon. “I have something to show you. Something we probably need to keep to ourselves for the time being.”

  “Callie, you’re beginning to worry me.” Phyllis followed close behind.

  Callie was in the process of shoving a barrel to the side when Phyllis saw the large chest it had hidden. She blinked her eyes and peered closer, recognizing the handwriting on the side.

  “Mother’s dishes,” she said in awe. “Callie?” She pointed to the chest, her hand shaking. “Mother’s dishes?” Disbelief was etched on her face.

  Callie smiled at Phyllis.

  “They’re yours. I had room,” she said simply.

  “Oh, Callie.” Tears sprung to the woman’s eyes. “I don’t have the words to thank you.”

  “None are needed, Phyllis. You’d have done the same for me. When we know all danger of too heavy a wagon is passed, we’ll load them back on your wagon. Until then, I’ll keep them safe from harm.”

  Phyllis bent down and reverently ran her hand over the chest as a tear rolled down her cheek. “Callie, you’ve been a source of strength and a dear, dear friend. I’ll never forget your kindness—not ever.”

  Chapter 31

  Callie didn’t venture from her wagon that evening. But next dawn, as she prepared the morning coffee, Seth rode up.

  She swallowed hard, hoping he couldn’t see her heart beating in her throat.

  “Morning, Callie. Missed seeing you last night.”

  “I, uh, I had a lot of chores. Everything was dirty, needing washing, and . . .” Her voice trailed off.

  He leaned over the saddle horn, a bucket in one hand and a fist full of flowers in the other.

  “Roses,” he said, extending them. “Wild roses and thorny as hell. But the smell is so darn good, you don’t mind bleeding to get them.” His grin was infectious and Callie couldn’t help smiling back. She took the bouquet and held them to her nose.

  “Mmmm, they do smell heavenly. Thank you, Seth. That was so thoughtful of you.” She took several deep breaths then glanced up at Seth, busily sucking the side of his hand.

  “Thorn?” she asked.

  “Several. Dang things ‘bout ate me alive. Oh, here.” He pushed the bucket toward her.

  Peering inside, Callie’s eyes lit up. “Berries. Currant berries?” She reached for one of the purple berries and plopped it in her mouth. “Yum. Oh, Seth, I haven’t had currant berries for ages. Thank you.” She looked wistfully at the full bucket, then back at the man, the hint of a smile on his face, as he drank in her pleasure.

  “Do we have to leave Ash Hollow today?”

  “‘Fraid so.”

  “Because,” she went on, a teasing lilt in her voice, “I’d make these into jelly.”

  “Sorry, Callie. We’re right on schedule. Not foreseeing any delay, we’ll reach Oregon before the snow falls.”

  “Currant jelly on warm bread? I’ll save the heel for you and smother it good,” she couldn’t resist coaxing.

  “Stop.” He laughed. “My mouth’s watering. How about a compromise? We’ll stop early enough tonight you’ll have time to bake that bread and make jelly, too. Fair?”

  “No.” She pursed her lips into a pout, but she couldn’t hold it for long. “Oh, yes, it’s fair. Not what I want, but fair.”

  He leaned closer to her upturned face. “Do I still get the heel?”

  “Now I don’t know, Mr. McCallister. I was thinking I might have to give it to Onnie Simple.”

  “Onnie Simple? That big blowhard?”

  “Well, he does have redeeming qualities.”

  “Oh yeah? Name one.” Seth’s eyes twinkled.

  “Well.” She squinted up her face. “He has a way with words.”

  “Huh?” Astonishment broke out on his face. “Words? The only words that come out of his big mouth are cuss words. When he isn’t cussing, he’s complaining. When he isn’t complaining, he’s accusing me of not doing my job. When—”

  “That’s what I mean,” Callie broke in, a laugh in her voice. “He has a way with words. I didn’t say they were nice words, but you have to admit they’re usually loud and freely given.”

  Seth threw back his head and laughed. Callie made him feel like no one else could. She lifted the weight of the world from his shoulders and, at the same time, made him glad to be alive. She was a precious jewel. A sassy, precious jewel.

  He spurred his horse. “The heel, Cassie. And, lots of jelly.”

  Callie watched him ride out of sight. Then she looked down at the bucket of berries and again lifted the roses to her nose. Another memory to store. Another heartache to add.

  Seth kept his promise; they stopped early. During the noon rest, Callie put the bread to rise and washed the berries. Her heart sang each time she replayed the start of the day, and the handsome man who had taken time to pick her flowers and berries.

  She felt like a peasant paying homage to a king as she carried a basket filled with loaves of warm bread and a crock of currant jelly to the Monroe’s campsite. Seth would be joining them for supper.

  Hearing her approach, Phyllis lifted her head up from the campfire, where she stirred a bubbling pot. Wearily brushing a lock of hair from her eyes, she smiled. A look of extreme fatigue crossed her face, then as quick as it came, it was gone. She placed her hand in the small of her back and walked toward her.

  A wave of fear clutched Callie as she peered closely at her friend. Phyllis had not bounced back after their rest at Ash Hollow. In fact, she seemed to be moving as though under a heavy load.

  Callie put her arm around her shoulders. Was Phyllis thinner?

  “Hello, my friend,” she said.

  It was a tossup who was the more startled when Phyllis laid her head against Callie’s shoulder and began to cry. Callie glanced quickly around, thankful no one else was present to witness this strong woman’s breakdown. Awkwardly, she murmured comforting words, not knowing what else to do. For long moments, Phyllis’ sobs rent the air. Finally, they grew farther apart until, giving one last shudder, she raised her head, and, breaking away from Callie’s embrace, furtively wiped at her eyes.

  “Oh, Callie. I’m so sorry.” She gulped, then fumbled in her apron pocket and removed a handkerchief. “I don’t know what came over me.” The words were muffled by the cloth as she wiped at her tear streaked face. “I’m just . . . I’m just . . . Oh, Callie.” Tears again filled her eyes.

  Callie broke from her trance. She took Phyllis’ arm and gently led her to a log.

  “The beans . . .” Phyllis protested.

  “I’ll watch the beans. You sit down. I’m going to get you and me a cup of coffee and we’re going to sneak us the first slice of this warm bread while you tell me what’s wrong. You’re sick, aren’t you?” Callie moved to the coffee pot, dreading the answer. Phyllis had become the sister Callie never had. Any age difference was dissolved by the hardships shared. Phyllis offered a steadfast strength. What would she do without her?

  Stop it, she chastised. Don’t be so selfish. This isn’t about what will you do, but what can you do. What you can do is to be here for this kind and wonderful woman during whatever illness or misfortune that has befallen her.

  Hands shaking, Callie quickly poured two cups and carried them ov
er.

  “Take this.” She held out the tin cup. I’ll cut us a thick slice of bread. Jelly?” She forced a smile, trying to act as if this was any other night and they were catching a few moments of peace before the men appeared, hungry for their supper.

  Phyllis stopped twisting the handkerchief and took the cup.

  “No bread, Callie. Definitely no bread.” Phyllis swallowed hard. “Just the thought of it makes my stomach do flip flops.” Realizing what she had just said, she stumbled over the next words. “Oh, darn. I don’t mean your bread . . . Oh, Callie, you know I’m not saying anything is wrong with your bread. Why it’s the most delicious . . . Oh, darn.” And the tears began anew.

  Callie put her cup on the ground and took Phyllis’ hands in hers. They were cold as ice.

  “Phyllis.” She knew her voice held the fear she’d been trying to quell. “You’re sick. Your hands are like ice. I’m going to get Mrs. Franklin. She’ll know what to do.” Oh why can’t I be as good at knowing what to do for sickness as I am about rolling out a flaky crust? “You sit here. Don’t move. I’ll be right back.” Callie jumped to her feet only to be stopped by Phyllis’s restraining hand on her arm.

  “Sit down. I’m not sick. Well, I am sick, but not bad sick.”

  “Phyllis, you’re not making any sense.” Cautiously, she lowered herself to the log, searching Phyllis’ face. “Either you’re sick or you aren’t. Do you know what’s wrong? I’ll stay by your side. I’ll tend you no matter what. I’ll . . .”

  Phyllis gave a small laugh, and a sweet smile broke across her face.

  “Callie, you are a true friend and I’ve frightened you. I was hoping no one would notice and I could keep my secret until, well, until we reached Oregon City. But, I didn’t count on being such a crybaby. Last time I wasn’t. Well, I don’t think I was,” she said musingly, “but that was so long ago.” She paused, a dreamy look in her eyes. “A long time ago.” She fell silent, lost somewhere inside herself, oblivious to her friend’s restless squirming.

  “Phyllis. I’m trying to follow you, but you’re leading me down a crooked path.” What was her friend going on about?

  Phyllis blinked, looking as if she’d just returned from somewhere other than a hard log alongside a smoky fire.

  “Callie, what I’m about to tell you must remain a secret between the two of us. You have to promise me that you’ll not breathe a word of this to Jacob or Caleb.” She squeezed Callie’s hand. “Promise me, Callie.”

  “Phyllis, I can’t. I can’t promise not to tell them. What if you need help? What if I can’t care for you? What if you get worse? For heaven’s sake, Phyllis, you can’t hold me to a promise like that.”

  “I can and I will.” Phyllis’ voice was stronger. Determined. “Either you promise me that you’ll keep what I’m about to tell you between us or I’ll keep what’s ailing me to myself.” Her lips tightened as she waited for Callie’s answer.

  Callie looked everywhere, but at her friend’s tear-streaked face.

  “Hurry up. Make your decision. The men will be here and we’ll not have another moment’s peace.”

  “All right.” Callie’s voice was so low the words were muffled by the evening sounds.

  “I didn’t hear you.” Phyllis leaned close. “What did you say?”

  Callie took a deep breath. “I said OKAY.” The word burst from her lips. “Okay, Phyllis. I don’t like it. I’m afraid, I’ll admit that. Everyone thinks I’m strong, that I have courage. Ha.” She gave a short laugh. “I look at your face, the hollows around your eyes, and any courage I have takes wings and flies off into the night. I should have noticed something was wrong. I should have noticed you haven’t been yourself, but I’ve been so caught up in my own worries, I’ve neglected my friend. For the love of Pete, tell me what’s wrong. And, Phyllis, don’t spare me. I will be strong. I’ll pull all the courage I have and I’ll—

  “I’m expecting.” Phyllis interjected, breaking into Callie’s passionate plea.

  Callie nodded. “Okay. You’re expecting. What?”

  Phyllis laughed.

  “Not what. Who. A baby, Callie. I’m expecting a baby.”

  “Oh my gosh. A baby. You’re going to have . . . you’re expecting A BABY.”

  “Shhh.” Phyllis put a finger to her lips and peered into the darkening shadows.

  “Oh, Phyllis.” Callie paused, her friend’s words sinking in. “A baby,” she repeated, as if saying it again made the fact more real, more believable. “When? How? Oh never mind that question.” She blushed. “I know the answer. But, hurry, tell me everything. Oh, Phyllis.” She gave the smiling woman another hug.

  “I’m not exactly sure when, but I think in about four months. I felt movement yesterday, so I think I’m close to five months along. I’ve been sick most mornings, but the last few weeks it seems to be lasting longer in the day. Some days I’m fine and others—” She glanced away, as if embarrassed by her revelation. Then she straightened her shoulders.

  “Jacob doesn’t know?” Callie asked quietly.

  “No, and he musn’t.”

  “Why, Phyllis? Jacob loves you. He has to know.”

  “No, he doesn’t have to know, Callie. Remember your promise,” she admonished. “Jacob has enough worries without adding me to the load.”

  “But surely this would be a pleasant worry.”

  “I’m old, Callie. Too old to be having a baby. It’s been seventeen years since Caleb. Seventeen years.”

  “It’s none of my business . . . No, it is my business. How old are you?”

  “Thirty-four.” The words came quietly into the clearing. “Jacob and I married early and Caleb appeared within that first year. We were so excited. You see, we wanted children. Lots of children. Jacob and I have so much love between us. Plenty to share. But”—sadness crept into her eyes and her voice—“it wasn’t to be. I lost three babies, never carrying one more than three months. Then no more until . . .” Her hand unconsciously touched her stomach. “Until this precious one. At first I was afraid to believe, after all these years. Then I became angry.”

  “Angry?”

  “Angry that now, at this time of our life, when Jacob needs a helpmate more than ever, I’m bringing even more burdens to his shoulders. I’m tired. I’m sick at my stomach. I’m a cry baby.” She gave a depreciating laugh. “And, I’m old.”

  “You stop that, Phyllis Monroe. You might add to your list of faults that you feel sorry for yourself. I’m ashamed of you.”

  “What?” Phyllis was shocked at Callie’s words.

  “Well, as harsh as it may sound, you are feeling sorry for yourself. You’ve been given a miracle and what do you do? You throw it back in the Good Lord’s face. I know, just from looking at you, now that my eyes have been opened, that you are extremely tired. And, the way you turned up your nose at my bread and fresh jelly, I can take your word for it that you are sick at your stomach. And, judging from my damp shoulder, I can believe you are a crybaby. But.” A smile broke out across Callie’s face. “For some reason you and Jacob have been given this new life to bring into your new life. Oh, Phyllis, I envy you.”

  “It is a miracle, isn’t it?” Phyllis asked softly. “It’s so good to share this with you. I’ve hugged this secret, these fearsome thoughts, to myself too long. But, I’m right to worry. We’ve still got a long ways to go before we reach Oregon City. I don’t know what my condition may be as I get closer to my time.” Tears again flooded her eyes, spilling unstopped down her cheeks. “I know Jacob. He won’t go on. I’ll stop us from reaching our dream.”

  “Yes, maybe you will. But won’t you be presenting him with another dream? A better one? Oregon isn’t the Promised Land. There has to be land every bit as good for farming and raising cattle between here and Oregon City.”

  “I
’m sure there is.” Phyllis’ voice was hesitant, not yet willing to give ground in her thinking. “Seth was telling him only yesterday about a beautiful valley outside of South Pass City. According to Seth, the grass is knee high and the soil black and rich, just waiting to be tilled.”

  “Well, there you have it.” Callie mumbled the response while all the while her mind latched on a few, magic words. “Outside of South Pass City.” What if . . .? No, she didn’t dare think it. Didn’t dare hope that Phyllis might homestead nearby South Pass. Didn’t dare hope she wouldn’t have to bid this special friend goodbye, never to see her again. Because of her falsehoods, she would not even be able to tell her goodbye. She would have to keep up the charade of staying with the train as far as Oregon City, until it pulled out of South Pass and, unbeknownst to everyone, left her behind. She wouldn’t allow herself to hope, to think ahead of the joy, the blessing of having Phyllis, Jacob, and Caleb close by. This was just another thing she didn’t dare share with Phyllis. Her plans must still remain hers and hers alone.

  And now, a further worry would be added. Phyllis would have to go on alone to have her baby without Callie by her side. Callie would never know the child. She would never know if Phyllis was okay. She would never know if the baby was a boy or a girl. Not that it mattered. She bowed her head. Another punishment for her strong-willed ways. Added to the burden of losing Seth, she must now face abandoning Phyllis in her time of need.

  Chapter 32

  “Callie. Callie.”

  Phyllis’ strident voice broke into her thoughts.

  “I hear the men coming.” Phyllis squeezed Callie’s hand. “Remember your promise.”

  “I remember. But don’t think for a minute, Mrs. Monroe, this will be the end of our discussion. We have plans to make.” She leaned closer and whispered, “We have a baby coming.”

  A smile broke across Phyllis’ face. It was good to have Callie as a confidant. And yes, she was right. It was a miracle. She looked into Callie’s beaming face and drew strength from it, then walked over to the beans, lifted the lid and gave them a quick stir. She could do this. She may not be a spring chick, but she was healthy and strong. She would give Jacob this baby. Someday soon, she would have to tell him. But not now. Not when they had such a distance to cover. But South Pass City: now, that might be the place to share her wonderful secret. She met Callie’s eyes across the campfire, and a feeling of mutual understanding and sharing passed between them. She would lean on Callie’s unconquerable spirit and draw what she needed from this amazing woman.