Unconquerable Callie (21 page)

After being on the trail and the vast, empty plains, Fort Laramie was overwhelming. The noise was deafening and Callie tensed at each different sound. Hooves pounded as the cavalry drilled in the hard-packed parade grounds. Men shouted, the blacksmith anvil rang out, livestock bawled, and somewhere in the distance, a piano tinkled. The smell of manure and unwashed bodies assailed her nose. There were few women, and the men were a stew’s mix of shapes, sizes, and dress, from army uniforms to stiff pants held up by wide suspenders stretched over faded red underwear. She’d forgotten how chaotic civilization could be.

Callie confided in Seth about her secret purchase. With a twinkle in his eyes, he distracted Jacob, while Callie and Phyllis went inside the crowded trading post.

They were delighted with their find, a table piled with yard goods. And near the bottom, Callie and Phyllis pulled out bolts of white, yellow, blue, and pink flannel. Phyllis refused the blue and Callie teased her about a baby boy having nothing to wear but frilly pink and yellow. It didn’t faze Phyllis in the least. She was carrying a girl and that was that. Callie ran her hand over the soft material and, for a moment, wondered if she would ever be buying flannel for a child of her own. She visualized a miniature Seth, a boy with his father’s blue eyes and strong chin. She quickly shrugged off the painful thought and busied herself choosing ribbon for binding, and another piece of pink and blue calico, for a small quilt.

Phyllis’ pleasure in each purchase was palatable. She was overcome with emotion, stopping every few seconds to hug and thank Callie.

“You might not be thanking me by the time we get everything made up.” Callie knew there wasn’t as much time as Phyllis thought, especially with them sewing away in secret. “You have to tell Jacob.” Callie handed one of the string tied packages to her.

“I know,” Phyllis said worriedly. “I will. Soon.”

Seth took the packages as soon as they stepped out of the trading post. Jacob raised a brow at Phyllis.

“Buy something?” he asked, knowing his frugal wife would think twice before parting with her hard-earned cookie sales money.

“It’s all for me,” Callie interjected, keeping Phyllis from having to lie to the man she loved and respected. It seemed that fate had dictated Callie to lie, even when she didn’t want to.

Dinner was wonderful. The fort commander insisted they eat with him at the officer’s mess. Seth pulled out Callie’s chair and couldn’t resist touching her, his fingers gently stroking the silky softness of the back of her neck. Her curls reached the edge of her collar and, although Seth had thought her snowy mass of long hair breathtakingly beautiful, he’d developed a special fondness for her short curls.

After dried apple pie for dessert, the couples went back to their wagons. Not wanting to end the day, the men built a communal fire and the women put on pots of coffee. The stars were bright in the sky by the time the last cup was empty and the last story told.

Seth didn’t trust himself to be alone with Callie.

“Callie, I’ve asked Henry Henry to escort you back to your wagon. I’ve got something else demanding my attention. I just want to tell you”—He leaned closer to her on the log, the fire dancing its reflection in her hair and on her face—“I enjoyed today. I’ll never forget it, no matter what. I only hope it meant something to you. I know you’re promised to another, but I can’t let today end without telling you how I treasure you. You have been a gift on this long journey. Sometimes I wish it would never end.” And with that he abruptly got to his feet and strode into the night.

Callie watched him leave, tears flooding her eyes. Back at her wagon, she carefully folded her dress and put it back in the trunk, knowing she’d never look at it without remembering today and the time with Seth. Again, she vowed to tell him the truth. Today would be yet another memory to store in her memory box, to be brought out when Seth was gone, and she was left alone with his disgust ringing in her ears.

The wagon train moved on as scheduled, the days and the numerous river crossings blurring together. Callie had lost track of how many times they crossed the Sweetwater River. All the crossings were easy. Not one compared to the treachery of the Missouri. The streams here held clear-flowing water, banks lined with driftwood. Firewood was now everywhere for the taking, and no one missed gathering buffalo chips.

She and Seth rarely had time alone. The morning cups of coffee became sporadic. Callie knew it was for the best, but she sorely missed him.

Seth distanced himself, trying to keep his love pushed deep down, out of thought and sight. He girded himself for the time of goodbyes and good lucks to Callie. He was also preparing himself to hide his emotions as he was forced to watch another man joyfully greet her on their arrival in Oregon City.

They were now passing through soft sandstone, with the wagon wheels carving a depression. Seth warned parents to keep an eye on their children. It would be only too easy for a child to fall under a wagon.

On July 2
nd
, the wagon train stopped, having reached the goal of Independence Rock, before the Fourth of July. There was an abundance of grass and horses, mules, and oxen munched happily, after the meager feed of the plains.

When first spying Independence Rock, Callie breathed a sigh of relief and chuckled to herself. It looked like a giant turtle, covering a large portion of the prairie. She and Caleb wandered over to the rock reading many of the names already painted or carved there. Henry Henry had told them axle grease made up of pine tar and hog fat could be used to paint names. There would be time later to do just that.

That evening, a feeling of pride and satisfaction hovered over the camp, like a low-lying, summer cloud. They had made the difficult journey on time and, barring the earlier incident on the Missouri River and Onnie’s illness, there had been no further loss of life. In fact, the wagon train had increased in size, due to several births.

Callie and Phyllis seized every spare moment to sew baby garments. Inside Callie’s wagon, the two women perched on trunks, with the flap down for privacy. Callie marveled at the tiny clothing and couldn’t believe it when Phyllis told her they would be too big, at first. A lump came in her throat when she once again realized she’d never see the infant in the pink, ribboned gown. She reminded herself that her destination was for the best. The best for her, that is. Still, it was becoming harder and harder to reason out and accept she was making the right decision, the only decision possible.

That evening Seth and Henry Henry joined the Monroes and Callie for dinner. Callie mixed up a pan of dried berry cobbler. Baking was always her savior, her happiness. When her hands were coated in flour, her heart smiled. Thoughts flew, and she allowed herself the pleasure of mentally planning her bakery.

Her first order of business, of course, would be to find a place to park her wagon, and set it up to work out of. Ideally, of course, would be a permanent building with a kitchen. But the chances of finding a building were slim to none. From what she’d heard, South Pass City was booming, following the discovery of gold. The things that made it an ideal place for her bakery also made it difficult. Added to this worry was the fact that winter came early to Wyoming. Callie couldn’t live and work out of the wagon more than a few months. Oh, but the challenge would be worth it. The chance to own something of her own, to spend her days doing something she loved, to be part of a territory that allowed women to vote and to hold public office, filled her with peace and happiness. Surely that happiness would ease the pain of her loss.

Seth told himself it wasn’t necessary to go by Callie’s wagon to let her know of his plans for tomorrow’s early Fourth of July celebration. He could easily tell her, along with the others, tonight at dinner. They would spend one day celebrating and then move on, taking advantage of their good progress. But somehow his feet didn’t hear his brain, and, following his heart, he headed to the wagon, where a lilting humming penetrated the canvass. He stopped and smiled. Someone was happy, if the joyful humming was any indication.

“Callie,” he called out. “Got a minute?”

Instantly the flap was propped open by an elbow and a curly head popped out. Flour-covered hands held aloft. An oversized apron covered her buckskins.

“Seth.” There was no mistaking the delight on her face and in her voice. “Grab the flap. My hands are covered in flour. Come in.”

He chuckled as he stepped inside the wagon and took in the baking confusion. “This looks like the inside of a bakery,” he said.

Callie’s eyes snapped at the innocent comment.
Surely he didn’t, no, he couldn’t
—
She thought frantically. “A-a bakery?”

“Sure.” He stepped closer to her and gently ran a long finger down the tip of her flour-smudged nose. “And you look like the master baker.”

“Oh.” She felt heat creep up her cheeks. “My nose itched just when my hands were mixing up the dough.”

Seth peered into the mixing bowl. “Cookies?”

“No.” Callie laughed. “Not everything baked is sugar cookies, Seth McCallister.”

“They’re my favorite.” As if that was all the explanation needed.

“Well, tonight you’ll have to settle for dried berry cobbler. I’m so happy to be here, and ahead of time, that I just had to bake something. I wish I had some sweet cream for topping, but that will just have to be something we dream about.”

“Lord, I haven’t had sweet cream since I don’t remember when. Makes my mouth water just thinking about it. Fresh churned butter . . .” His words trailed off.

“Baking powder biscuits hot out of the oven,” Callie added, her eyes closed in ecstasy.

“Stop it. My stomach’s growling just thinking of popping one in my mouth. Have you made butter before, Callie?”

“Heavens, yes. My aunt kept a milk cow and chickens. It was my job to milk the cow twice a day. Summer was her name. She was a small Jersey, and for every gallon of milk she gave, I skimmed a quart of cream from the top. We had fresh cream in our mashed potatoes, in our gravy, on our cobblers, and most of all, rich, creamy ice cream.”

“Ice cream?” His voice carried a torturous sound of longing.

“Yes. When the river froze over, we’d cut thick slabs of ice. Packed in straw, and stored in our shed, it lasted into the summer. Ice cream and lemonade. Seth, is there anything better than providing your own happiness?”

“There’s so much to you, Callie. You took to the trail like a veteran, you can shoot as good as any man, you cook, and you bake like an angel. Is there anything you can’t do, or don’t like to do?”

Callie grinned. “Yes. I don’t like to clean my own fish. I have to scrub for days to get that smell off my hands. Give me flour, sugar, and sweet cream any day.”

They sat there in compatible silence, enjoying the rare privacy, enjoying the other’s company.

Finally, Seth spoke. “I thought it might be nice to have a real Fourth of July celebration tomorrow. It’s a day early, but I don’t think anyone will mind. We can have music, foot races for the kids, and by pooling our resources, a feast. There may not be lemonade or ice cream, but maybe there’d be sugar cookies?”

Callie laughed at the hopeful question and the boyish look on Seth’s face. “I don’t see any reason there can’t be sugar cookies. I’m sure the children would like them. I’ll just make enough for them. That way, we won’t have waste.”

“That’s cruel, Callie Collins. I’ve got a better idea. Let’s keep those sugar cookies between us, not waste them on kids. They’ll eat anything.”

“And you won’t?”

“Nope. I hate green beans. That’s one vegetable that won’t grow in my garden.”

“Your garden?” The impish look on Callie’s face disappeared with the question.

“Guess I should say my someday garden. I’ll be settling after this trip and a home and garden is near the top of my list.”

Callie wondered what the top of his list was, but didn’t dare ask. If the answer was a wife, she didn’t think she could keep the hurt from her face and voice.

Seth stood up. “Well, I’d better go or you’ll never get that cobbler baked and I plan to have a big helping tonight. I’ll see you at dinner.”

“Good-bye, Seth.” The words hung heavy on her tongue, portentous of the good-bye she would soon say.

The early Fourth was a huge success. Everyone celebrated not only Independence Day, but their success in reaching Independence Rock early. A party atmosphere skipped through the circled wagons. Patriotic songs were sung, babies were admired and passed from person to person, young couples held hands, and there was food everywhere. Henry Henry held forth, telling one tall tale after another. Seth, after eating his fill of sugar cookies, and sneaking several in his pockets for later, showed the children how to make a whimmydiddle.

He grooved two sticks, then crafted a propeller of sorts, and attached it to the end of one stick. By briskly rubbing the two sticks together, the unwieldy propeller began to spin. The harder you rubbed, the more it spun. It was an instant hit, and before long, every man was engaged in the whimmydiddle making. Notching wood and crafting propellers, while children stood impatiently waiting to have their turn with the toy.

The next morning, as they pulled out, smiles remained on faces, and everyone agreed yesterday had been the best Fourth ever.

They had only traveled a few miles west of Independence Rock, when the Sweetwater River came into view, shooting its way through a narrow granite canyon called Devils Gate. Wisely, Seth had them detour around without passing through the chasm. It was too narrow and steep-sided to attempt. Seth didn’t even stop. So no one would have time to climb to the top and peer over the edge. It was too far down to the bottom, and too easy to have an accident.

Within a few days, they had just about reached the halfway mark: South Pass City. Callie heard Seth’s news with mixed feelings and held back from joining the others celebrating the nearness of this landmark.

Just outside of South Pass, the wagons stopped for the night at one of most unusual places they had yet experienced. A secret smile on Seth’s face accompanied his instructions that they dig down in the earth about twelve inches. There were puzzled looks on most of the faces, and whispered conversations about why he’d want to stop in this unlikely place. Moisture was evident as the ground crunched below their feet and wagon wheels. If there were springs underground, they had been covered with turf.

Good-naturedly they dug, and before long, the reason why became apparent. While the surface water was alkaline, the ice below ground was clear and good. Chunks of ice were dug out of what Seth told them was an ice slough. He’d been through the shallow basin before and knew that the refreshing ice was there for the digging. The ice was carefully packed and the next day when they stopped for noon, hoarded lemons were offered up, and a refreshing drink was enjoyed by everyone.

Callie watched Seth dig out from his pockets a few crumbled sugar cookies and, thinking he wasn’t observed, he dunked them in the cold drink. He popped the dripping cookies in his mouth, closing his eyes in bliss. It wasn’t sweet milk and cookies, but it would do.

Several days later, Henry Henry rode down the line of wagons spreading the welcome news they’d be at South Pass City before noon.

Both she and Phyllis heard the news with trepidation. Phyllis would be talking to Jacob, and Callie would be talking to Seth, saying goodbye.

South Pass City, the eastern boundary of Oregon Territory. What everyone thought would be a narrow gap in the Rocky Mountains, shadowed by rocks hundreds of feet high, was actually a valley some twenty miles wide. And while the wagon train was at the halfway mark, there were still thousands of miles to go.

They circled the wagons on the outskirts of the town, and Seth advised them to get whatever supplies they needed, as they would head out the next morning.

Callie could hardly wait to explore her home to be. She’d traveled many a long, hard mile to fulfill this dream of hers. But first, she had a task to do. A very unpleasant task. There was no doubt in her mind Seth would raise no objection to her pulling her wagon out of formation and going into the town, once he heard her story. A cold, hard knot formed in her stomach. She hadn’t been able to eat all day, which only compounded her weakness. She hadn’t seen Phyllis since early that morning, and hoped when she finally told Jacob her news, it would bring the peace and joy they both deserved.

Stalling as long as she dared, she left the safety of her wagon and went in search of Seth. She circled the camp not once, but twice in her search. She finally stopped by the Monroe wagon to see if Jacob had seen Seth. No one was there. Callie’s desire to know Jacob’s reaction to Phyllis’ news was smothered by the wet blanket of dread.

Finally, she saw a familiar face.

“Henry,” she called out. The man stopped, a welcome smile on his face.
Well, that too would change
.

“Have you seen Seth? I need to talk to him.”

“‘Fraid you’ll have to wait, Callie. He’s rode on ahead. Said he’d catch up with us in a day or two.”

“Ahead?” The word fell from her lips. “Why? What?” Callie’s mind went blank, unable to accept Henry’s words. She couldn’t think. She had to see Seth. Now. Not in two days. In two days, the wagon train would be miles away and she’d be here in South Pass City, and he’d never know. He’d never hear her explanation. She’d never get one last look at his face. She’d never get to catch a glimpse of the twinkle in his eye or see that grin, or hear him chuckle. A tear fell and rolled down her cheek. Like a dark hole, her world had turned black and swallowed her up.

“Hear now. Ain’t nothin’ to be cryin’ about. Seth’s rode ahead plenty of times. Now this ain’t like you. Maybe you better tell Henry what’s the matter. Somebody botherin’ you?” The gnarly hunter clenched his fist. His demeanor changed from easy-going to tense.

“No.” Callie brushed away the tear and blinked back others threatening to fall. “No, I’m just tired, I guess. I’ll walk back to the Monroe wagon and see if Phyllis has the coffee on yet.”

“Don’t expect she will. Have the coffee on. She and Jacob rode out with Seth. Jacob tried to make her stay behind. ‘Pears she’s feelin’ poorly and Jacob was hovering over her like a hen with a wet chick. But she put up a fuss and said she hadn’t come this far not to have a say in important matters.”

“Phyllis gone?” Callie’s voice a mere whisper. What was happening? In a matter of hours, her plans had been uprooted, like a sapling in high wind.

“Yep. I’m to drive their wagon till they meet up with us. They left in a hurry, so’s I’m not too clear what’s what. Guess it’ll all come to reason later. Caleb went with them, and said to let you know he’d make it up to you for you havin’ to manage on your own, for the next few days.” He peered into her face. “Ain’t nothin’ you ain’t done before, but you let me know should you need help. Okay?”

“Yes. Fine. I’ll be fine,” she said distractedly. Callie took a few steps, then turned back to Henry Henry, who was still watching her, a puzzled expression on his face.

“Henry. I’m, uh, I’m taking my wagon into South Pass City. I’ve got a wheel acting up. I’m sure they have a blacksmith there. I don’t want a problem later on. If I’m not back in line when you pull out, go ahead and I’ll catch you at the noon rest.”

“Well, now—”

“It’ll be all right. I’ll just follow your trail. We’ve only got one direction to go.”

“I don’t like it, Callie. Nope, don’t like it at all. There’s been talk of some Indian raids an’ a lone wagon’s easy prey.”

“I’ll be fine. You know I can shoot straight and hit where I’m aiming.”

“Well . . .”

“And, Henry, I have a letter for Seth. Would you give it to him when you next see him?”

“Why can’t you give it to him yourself?” Henry asked suspiciously.

Callie lowered her head. “Well, it’s personal and I’d be embarrassed.” Henry had to buy her act. She didn’t dare tell him the real reason.

“Now you got me flumfluxed, Callie. But, I’ll do it. Don’t rightly know why, but I will.”

In a moment of impulse, Callie threw her arms around his neck. He didn’t know it was goodbye, but she did, and hung on to him a minute longer.

“Thank you, Henry Henry. I’ll never forget you.”

“Don’t ‘spect you will. We’ve still got a few thousand miles to go.”

“Yes,” Callie said absently. “A few thousand miles.”