by Rita Hestand
"Yeah, that's the way I was thinking." Johnny smiled. "Maybe between here and there, they'll rethink it."
"It's nothing to me, but I kind of hate to see them going from maybe a bad situation to an intolerable one."
Johnny laughed. "You think it's the gold that lures them?"
"Maybe, some of them at least. You can find a husband in other places other than a gold camp."
"That pretty much makes them gold diggers, doesn't it?" Johnny's brow went up a notch.
"Yeah, I guess it does." Cully started to walk off to get more coffee, but Johnny's words stopped him.
"Some of them have been through hell, Cully."
Cully whirled around on his boot heels. "Then I can only hope it doesn't stare them in the face when they get there."
"I got an idea or two about that too."
"Good, it'll keep for a while though." Cully grinned and went to get his coffee.
He realized Miss Abigail wanted to be kept abreast of all he did, so that's how it would be. She was a hard one to figure, because she seemed one of the few with some gumption about her. He already witnessed a lady that flirted outrageously, a woman who knew little about her own wagon, and the murmurings that went around the camp as he made his little speech. "All I want to do is get them through though. Their mistakes are their own." Cully added as he walked by Johnny again.
"They're really not so bad, once you get used to them. Typical women, I guess. Only they are right handy, I can tell you that. They can help change a wagon wheel, and some of them shoot better than me. They are used to hard work, all of them. They aren't the parlor type, boss."
"Do you happen to know how many can shoot?"
"Not off hand, I mean I've seen a couple use shotguns, but that's about all."
"Well, before we get into dangerous territory, I want to see how many can use them. We may just need them. I've heard there's been some Indian trouble along the way, I want them prepared. And I want everyone to know that it isn't wise to be trigger happy over Indians. Sometimes a good trade goes farther than killing."
"Probably a good idea."
"If they can't shoot, I want them to learn."
Johnny nodded. "Alright, when you want to set that up."
"Couple of days,"
Johnny nodded again.
He sipped his coffee quietly and watched Johnny turn in for the night.
He looked up to the stars, "Lord, I hope you know what they are doing. And if you don't mind, you could send me a little help along the way."
He was comfortable talking to God. He figured a man should talk straight to the source and God controlled everything as far as he was concerned. His Ma had taken him to church often when he was little, and obviously he heard the preachers talk, but along the way, he developed a close association with God when his folks died unexpectedly of small pox, and he was left to fend for himself. He learned quickly that he wasn't alone in life. Still, if it hadn't been for Bertha taking hold of him, he might have turned out a lot differently.
Chapter Four
When Johnny set up the shooting targets the women all gathered around. Cully watched them.
"Ladies, we will be going through Indian territory several times on our journey. Now, first let me stress that I don't want any needless killing. We are not out to kill Indians just because they are Indians. I say that with respect, because sometimes an Indian can be more a friend than an enemy. But they've been short-changed by our government, and that creates problems out here. If attacked, yes, but only if attacked. If we are attacked that is one thing, if they come in peace that's another. So, don't be gun happy. Still, I want you to be able to at least protect yourselves. Sometimes Indians merely want to trade, and we can dicker on that. But, I do want all of you to learn to shoot. And not just because of Indians. Outlaws have been known to hold up wagon trains, robbing people of their precious things, and the cattle, and or horses. So, if a stranger comes riding up, be on your guard. Don't hand out information that isn't theirs. Another thing, it is almost snake season. Rattlesnakes are prevalent all over the area we will travel. Watch not only where you walk, but ahead of your horses as best you can. If a horse or mule is nervous, there is usually a reason, and snakes are the biggest reason out here. Another small thing, gopher holes can cause wagon troubles, so be watchful. Snakes cause accidents too. They cause two things, animals to scatter, and if bitten it's serious. Stay awake as much as possible except at night. Being armed always and able to shoot the head off is a talent you will learn to appreciate. One other thing I might mention, a lot of people have been killed needlessly, because they carry a loaded gun in a traveling wagon. You will unload your guns during travel time, so we have no accidents. Believe it or not, more people are killed over guns going off unexpectedly than any other accident. Especially inside your wagons. Wagon wheels will run over almost anything, including you, be careful. This is fact and I want you to pay attention too. Now Johnny and I will help to train you if you don't know much about guns. So, raise your hand if you have trouble. If you don't own a gun, we'll try to see that you get one."
"You are telling us we have to learn to shoot?" One woman asked putting her hands on her hip in a challenge. She was a bit older, and a lot more sarcastic.
"Yes ma'am, if you want to stay alive to get to California, that's what I'm telling you. We'll know more about our chances of Indian war parties once we get to Ft. Kearney. Now the army does try to keep the peace, so it could be we won't even be attacked. But, just in case I want you all prepared. Because you are women, you might have to fight for your life. Indians tend to take women captives. You'll carry sacks of salt, sugar and flour in every wagon to protect yourself with. Stuff the sacks around you when you shoot, it will give you some leverage and protect you to some extent. If one tried to carry you off with them, yell, scream, let us know, in other words."
The women glanced at each other.
"So, who wants to go first?" Cully asked.
"I will," A young lady stepped up to the task. "The name's Laura Horton." She told him then proceeded to aim. She was a tall lean woman, with a roughness about her that spoke of lots of hard work. She took out her rifle and shot the first four cans down without blinking an eye. Then she pulled her pistol and did the same. Some of the women gasped. She was good, as good as some men Cully knew.
"You'll do fine, Laura," Cully smiled at her as she moved into the crowd. Her red hair made her stand out among the women.
Cully was familiarizing himself with all the ladies now, learning their names and how to recognize them.
A short plump woman with long blonde hair, and blue eyes batted her lashes at him and Johnny. "I'll go next. I'm Betty Sorrels."
"Betty," Cully nodded.
She had a short sawed-off shotgun and she aimed and half the cans scattered. Cully nodded. Johnny chuckled. Then she picked up her revolver and aimed, knocking several more down.
Johnny replaced the cans and winked at her. She smiled.
"Who's next?" Cully shouted.
Abigail stepped up with a rifle and shot the first three cans, then drew her pistol and took out five more cans. The women gasped again. Somehow Cully just knew she'd be good.
She shot Cully a glance, he was watching with interest and the minute she looked at him, he glanced away.
"Next," he called. He didn't praise her, and she noticed. She bit her lip.
It went on for a short while, then some of the more reluctant women stepped up. Most of them couldn’t hit the side of a barn, but before this trip was over, he'd have them sharp-shooting, Cully vowed to himself.
"Alright," Cully nodded several hours later, "I want the first ten shooters to start showing the other women how to hold their gun and aim. We'll practice every day before camp."
There were murmurings everywhere and some shot him a contemptuous glance.
"This is for your own good ladies. You've got to be able to defend yourself." He assured them.
Some gathered around Ab
igail. "Why'd you pick him, he's bossy, and rough."
Abby looked at her friends. "We don't want a baby-sitter, Catherine, we need someone who can get us through. He's only thinking of our safety."
Cully heard her and grinned as he walked away. At least Miss Abby didn't seem to mind. He felt a little bad about not bragging about her shooting. But she was too good-looking, and he had to find ways to keep his distance.
She was their ringleader and they would listen to her, when they didn't to him, he decided. That was good, because the way he sized her up, she had a good head on her shoulders.
"What did you think?" Johnny asked with a smirk on his face.
"Some of them are damned good. The others will learn to defend themselves better. Can't ask much more than that." Cully told him.
"So, we gonna set this up every afternoon?" Johnny asked.
"Every morning travel is good until we get to Ft. Kearney, after that, there won't be as much time to devote to this, so I want to get them where they can at least hit the broad side of a barn." Cully nodded. "By the way, can the kid handle a gun?"
"I don't know. We haven't had an occasion to use them much."
"Well, find out tomorrow. Guns can do a lot of damage in the wrong hands. We have to know who can and can't use them."
"Will do."
"Very impressive, Mr. Cully." The doc walked by.
"It will be before we're through." Cully nodded with a slight smile. "Oh Doc, can you handle a gun?"
"A shotgun I can. Yes sir."
"Good. Johnny how about you?" Cully asked.
Johnny pulled his gun and shot all the cans from the branch.
"Good, just remember not to get trigger happy."
Johnny nodded. "I'll remember. One thing you can count on, I'm not a hot-head."
"Good," Cully smiled.
It was late that evening when Cully came up to the chuck wagon to get some grub. Most of the men and women had eaten. Slim was just leaving.
"Slim, how are things going with the remuda?"
"Fine, no problems there. We have plenty of relief stock, and quite a few head of cattle too, and some chickens."
"Good, and thanks. If I had more men, I'd get them to help you."
Slim nodded with a slight smile to his lips.
He saw Abby working at the fire, stirring a pot of stew it smelled like. His mouth began to water.
He stared a long time, taking in the long dark hair that flowed down her back now, a fine figure of a woman. She was in her riding skirt and shirt today. Most of the women had adapted themselves to homespun cotton dresses or riding outfits.
She spotted him and smiled.
"I saved you a plate," Abby told him as he neared her.
"Thanks." Cully smiled.
"I hope you don't make a habit of being late, all the time."
He grinned, "I'll try not to."
"What do you do out there so late?"
"Ride ahead, plan the course, make sure we have no obstacles to deal with."
"Obstacles?"
"Yeah, broken tree branches from storms must be moved, rocks falling from ledges, checking the water to make sure it's isn't tainted. Looking for signs of trouble." He told her as he ate.
She watched him closely. "Why would the water be bad?"
"We're on the Oregon trial, a lot of wagon trains have been through here. Every year there are more. But it takes a while to train a bunch of people to all the safety requirements and some never do bother with it. Those are the trains that cause trouble for others."
"Safety?"
"When large trains come through, it creates a large amount of waste. Sometimes, if a wagon master isn't smart and doesn't care, the waste leaks into the streams and rivers, after so many, it can create bad water. Part of the problem is camping too close to the rivers and streams. Most want the convenience of it. But they don't account for the waste that is too close. That's one reason it is a piece to the streams where we camp. The trick is to keep the waste far enough from the water to not pollute it. And it isn't just wagon trains that create this, army patrols come through often and think little of the waste and water. Indians have learned of it and know what they must do, so I can't lay blame on them for that. They don't actually know what the sickness is, but they know not to pollute the waters."
Her mouth fell open and she crooked her head with a slight smile. "I had no idea that a wagon master was so knowledgeable about such things. I guess I thought it was just a simple matter of knowing the trail."
"You figured I was just some dumb cowboy with a gun, huh?"
She glanced at him now. "Not exactly. But you do surprise me."
He chuckled. "I learned from one of the best wagon masters. I rode with Seth Barker three times before I ever got my own train. He taught me a lot. But, some never learn or plain just don't care, and there lies the problems. After you've been through it once, you learn quick." Cully told her. "Or at least you should. The sick fact that some just don't care, is enough to make me angry."
"Why wouldn't they care?" She shrieked.
"Because usually they don't get sick, it's the ones that come after them that get sick. It's their leavings that make others sick. When wagons began to roll west, not much of this was known, but we've learned the hard way. Enough people die from it, you find the cause, and you try to do something about it. There are other things too, the doc can probably fill you in on them."
"But how can you be sure if the water is good?"
"If I told you, it might make you a little sick." He grimaced.
"I'm not a squeamish female." She studied him now.
"Alright," he firmed his lips and eyed her closely, "I usually catch a squirrel or rabbit and make them drink. If they get sick or die, I know it's bad. If they are fine, I know it's good. Or if they won't drink it, I know we shouldn't."
"That's…."
"Cruel…" he added with a slight grin.
"A bit!" She insisted.
"Better than you keeling over dead because I didn't test it. I can't afford getting sick myself, I'm the one responsible for getting you through…"
She opened her mouth to say something and nothing came out. After a short silence, she murmured, "You're right."
Now he stared. She might be a bit hard headed, she might not have her head on straight about this marrying thing, but she could admit when she was wrong. He liked that. And she sure was a pretty lady. Maybe too pretty. He veiled his thoughts from her as his lashes fell to his cheeks, looking at her did things to his insides that shocked him. He'd seen pretty ladies before, but why this one made him react, he didn't understand. And then again, he did. It wasn't just her beauty, it was her no-nonsense approach to life. He liked that. And she was tougher than she looked.
"Have you seen any signs of Indians?" She asked him.
"A couple of smoke signals here and there. They are just letting each other know we are coming through."
"How do you know?"
"Stands to reason, if someone new comes through your land, you'd let your neighbors know." He shrugged.
"You really think Indians understand that philosophy?"
"No philosophy about it, it's common sense, and they have plenty of common sense. Never underestimate your enemies."
"I underestimated you, Cully." She murmured.
"Oh, how's that?" He asked setting his plate down and sipping his coffee, thoughtfully.
"You really do know your job." She took his plate and washed it.
He followed. "I can't help but wonder."
"Wonder what?" she asked not looking at him.
"You seem to have a lot of sense. But there is one thing…"
"Oh, and what might that be?"
"Why would a beautiful lady with such a fine upbringing want to go to California and marry a gold miner?"
"A fine upbringing?" She gasped. "I think you jumped to conclusions there."
"Well," he looked away. "I can tell you are fairly genteel. You're not as rough as
you'd like me to think, that's for sure. I've watched you, and although you are tough, what you're headed for could be as bad as where you came from."
Now she stopped and seemed to consider her words. "I was brought up in a grand home, with what most people considered to be fine people, upstanding people. But children in my home had a purpose. All of them. And that purpose was not love, Cully. The boys were to work the farm and help produce. They learned that from an early age. According to my father, women were a nuisance. So, the women on the other hand were to marry whomever their parents dictated as soon as they were old enough. A woman had no opinion to share, a woman had no place but the home and beside her man. And, she would marry well or not at all. To some extent I believe that, to another, I don't."
Cully was listening intently now. She was sharing some, and he was a bit amazed.
"And you didn't like who they picked out?" he blurted.
"Exactly. I couldn't stand who they picked out. He was a snivel of a man. Oh, on the outside, he was an upstanding young man. Well educated, a fine young gentleman, they called him. He'd gone to college and would support me in a fashion that I would never need to worry about a thing. Nor would they. The man was a braggart, about things that a man should never brag to a woman about. When we were left alone on the porch, for him to court me, he bragged about his conquests. He even tried…." She stopped looked at him then looked away. "Well, that doesn't matter. I wanted no part of him. Marrying someone like that would mean a lifetime of unhappiness. A real man doesn't have to brag."
Cully considered what she said. "Why didn't you just tell your father that."
She whirled around, a flash of anger in her eyes. "In my house, women had no right to opinions. And discussing something like that wasn't permitted. A good daughter did what she was told. Obviously, I'm not the good daughter. Had I spoken with my father about it, I would have been thrown out and on my own. This way, I'm on my own, but with a goal in mind."
