Unconquerable Callie (15 page)

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.

“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.”

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.”

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 time 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.