The Man from Shenandoah (13 page)

Tom grabbed Carl’s fist, sucked in a breath, held it, and let it out slowly. “I reckon you’re riled some, Carl. I can’t see as I blame you, getting cut off from your kin.” He loosened his grip on Carl’s fist and dropped it. “If my babies was split up from me, why, I’d—”

“I’m sorry I let go of my manners, sir,” Carl interrupted. “I guess one day or another I’m still a boy.”

“Well, it takes a man to own it, I reckon,” the blacksmith drawled. “Here, let me take that saddle.”

Carl staked Sherando on a fresh patch of grass, then, with his arms full of tack, followed Tom back to the wagons. He dumped the headpiece, bit, and other gear in a heap beside the freight wagon, and accepted the saddle from Tom, who took his hat off, put it back on, then left.

Douglas Campbell wandered up as Carl inspected a loose cinch buckle on his saddle. “Ma says you’re invited to eat dinner with us, come noon.”

“Thanks, Doug. I don’t mind if I do,” Carl replied, recalling that Molly Campbell made the best biscuits he’d ever eaten. “Does your ma have any flour?”

“Sorry, no. But she’s going to open a tin of peaches, I believe. She got it out of the supply bin.”

Carl grinned. “I’ll be there.”

~~~

The day was long in passing, and the enforced idleness weighed heavily on the members of Rand Hilbrands’ rear guard. A quarrel developed between the most tolerant of men, Angus Campbell, and his brother-in-law, Tom O’Connor, over where their stock should be picketed. Rand tried to smooth over their feelings, but he lacked Rod Owen’s mediating skills, and bad feelings persisted into the next day.

Again Carl scouted the surrounding area as soon as light broke over the eastern grasslands. He found nothing, even though he went farther afield. When he returned, he gave his report to each of the three men at the camp, for they were not willing to endure each other’s company in order to hear his news at one time. Disgusted, Carl sought his bedroll before noon, and tried to sleep amid the noise of fighting children and quick-tongued wives.

He woke when someone called his name in an urgent whisper, and he sat up hurriedly, bumping his head on the bottom of the wagon box. He swore, wincing at the pain, and rubbed his head.

“Carl Owen, I declare,” exclaimed Ida. “You oughtn’t to say such words in the presence of a

lady.”

Carl groaned and shook his head. “Beggin’ your pardon, Miss Ida. Somebody woke me up real sudden like, and now I’ve got a headache would make a lap dog turn vicious. Whew!” he shook his head again. “What do you want?”

She slid under the wagon and sat beside him. “Only some company. It’s so boring sitting out here, getting hot and sunburned, and swatting flies and ‘skeeters and other horrid little bugs.” She grimaced. “Mama made me scrape some meat this morning. It had maggots on it, and she made me touch it.” She shuddered. “I don’t think she will find me under here with you.”

Carl moved around in his bedroll until the sitting was comfortable and he could face Ida. “Seems like not long ago this setup pleased you mighty fine, your daddy being in charge, and all.”

“Well, it’s dreadful boring now, just like I told you. I’m sorry I ever let him talk us into staying.”

“I didn’t think we had much choice.”

“Fiddle-dee-dee! I could have talked Papa into going on, if I’d have wanted to. I just didn’t want to, at the time.”

“Know your own mind, is it?” Carl’s voice grated in his own ears as he looked Ida up and down.

She flushed. “You’re making fun of me, Carl Owen. It’s not fair for you to tease me.”

But a woman can tease a man all she wants, and nobody says a word
, Carl thought. “I was trying to get some sleep, girl,” he said, hunching his shoulders and preparing to lie down again.

“Let me stay here beside you so Mama won’t make me help her again. I fair liked to faint, working this morning.” At Carl’s scowl, Ida put on a smile and put a pleading note into her voice. “Please, Carl. I won’t say another word, just sit real quiet and watch you sleep.”

“Ida, you got the dangedest notions. It ain’t fitting for a girl to stay around when a man sleeps, not unless the two of them is wed.”

“I don’t care. We were supposed to be wed by now. Twice, even. Let’s pretend we are. Then I can cuddle up beside you and get some—”

“Ida Hilbrands! You get along with you. Scoot outta here! I won’t play them kinds of games with you, not here, and not likely anywhere else on this trip. You git!”

Ida went, reluctantly, but finally. Carl let out a shuddering breath, wiping his sopping forehead on his sleeve, and ran his moist hands down the front of his shirt.

He swore mildly, and thought
, I’m set to marry one forward gal. We’re sitting here under God’s great sky, not getting one foot nearer to Colorado Territory. I’ll never get that cabin raised before winter sets in
. He shook his head and sighed.
And I won’t take her to wife, or anything like unto it, until I have a place for us to call our own
.

Chapter 9

The next day dragged on like the three before it: hot, humid, and full of quarrels. Carl again went out to scout, but this time, Angus insisted on going along with him.

They didn’t say anything much to each other; there wasn’t a lot to say about riding large circles through the dusty grass, squinting into the sun looking for trampled grass or hoof prints, and feeling the sweat dripping down their chests, backs, and arms. They stopped from time to time to share a gourd of water or to rest their animals, but they still didn’t talk.

Carl and Angus rode all the way back to the knoll where the brothers had discovered the signs of pursuit several days before. The younger man got down from his horse and walked around, looking at the bare patch of ground where men had met and plotted.

He squatted on his heels for a time, backtracking his and Rulon’s movements to determine if there was something here that they had missed. He climbed the hill, stood on the top of the rise, took off his hat and wiped the sweatband, replaced it on his head, and looked out toward the north. A half-mile away, a band of chewed-up earth stood out from the blue stem, catching his eye.
Rulon and I came up from behind the hill
, he thought,
but we didn’t make them tracks out yonder
. He stared toward the track in the grass, then turned and ran down the knoll to where Angus waited with the horses.

“We’ve got trouble.” He bowed his head, his chest heaving, then looked up. “No, Pa’s got trouble. Those fellows didn’t go back to town.”

“What?”

He gestured to the north, then around the area. “There’s a big track out there Rulon and I didn’t see before the grass died. They stopped here and had a discussion, and if I’m reading sign rightly, left toward the east, then circled around out that-a-way, rode hard, and set up an ambush for us along the road a piece.” He swore and scrambled into his saddle. “My family and a lot of other good folks moved right into it, and I don’t think they’re going to come out alive, because we’re sitting here on our thumbs waiting for the moon to rise blue!” He clucked to Sherando, and started for the wagons.

“Now, calm down, son. Maybe they did go back after they saw how strong we was,” Angus called.

“No chance,” Carl threw back over his shoulder. “I saw the hate in that man’s eyes when he flung them strange words at me, and he ain’t one to quit on us.”

Angus got his horse started as well, and caught up to Carl. “Maybe he thought better of it after a time,” he shouted.

“You weren’t there, Angus. He’s after my blood, and the blood of my kin, and the girls, too. He won’t give up on the girls,” Carl yelled, his words bouncing out of his mouth.

When Carl and Angus rode into the camp, Tom and Rand were standing nose to nose, shaking fingers in each other’s faces. Carl slid off his horse and ran up to the overheated men.

“Stop it! Stop it right now,” he commanded. “Rand, if you want to prove how much courage you’ve got, then you’ll have to go down the road a piece.”

Randolph turned on the young man. “You’re crazy, boy. We’ll fight off them ruffians right here.”

“Well, they ain’t coming here. They holed up ahead, laying for my ma and pa, and my brothers and sister, and your daughter and little grandchild, and all them good people.”

Tom turned to him. “Speak plain, boy.”

Carl threw out his hands. “Berto Acosta and his bunch circled around and got ahead. My folks could be dead right now.”

“Well, what’re we sitting here for?” Rand sputtered. “We’d better get on the road.” He turned on his heel and strode toward his wagon, then wheeled and returned. “How do you know, boy?”

“The sign all adds up now. Besides,” he continued in a low voice, “I got a feeling in my bones.”

Rand shuddered and moved away, bawling out orders for breaking camp.

~~~

They got underway, pushing the animals hard to eke out extra miles of travel. Carl looked around at the waving grass, and wished the wind would push them along with as much speed. He glanced at Ida. She sat scowling, holding on to the seat of the jolting wagon as he coaxed the mules to pull a little harder, move a little faster. Eliza played with her doll, looking like she was content to be moving again.

When the road made a curve around a stand of trees, he looked back the way they had come and caught sight of a mass of dark clouds on the horizon.
Rain
, he thought.
Good and bad, both. Cool us off, but it’ll muddy up the road.

Later, Carl saw the clouds again, but instead of growing upward to pile high into the heavens, these clouds grew sideways, spreading out to cover a good part of the eastern skyline.

Carl stared a moment longer at the cloud, then a mounting dread filled the pit of his stomach as he realized the blackness bearing down on them was not cloud, but smoke. He stopped the mules, threw himself off the wagon to the sounds of Ida’s protests, and ran up the line to Rand’s wagon.

“Rand, hold up a minute. Look at that,” he shouted, pointing to the smoke enveloping the east. “That’s a prairie fire, or I’m not my father’s son.”

“Prairie fire!” Rand exploded, then went white in the face. “What’ll we do, boy?”

“We’ve got to make for the next stream and drive the wagons down into the water. Hurry, man, we ain’t got much time to outrun it.” He left Rand’s wagon and ran back down the line, shouting, “Angus, Tom!” The men started to halt their teams and climb down from their wagons.

“No, keep moving,” Carl yelled, waving his arm. “Fire! Get down to the next creek. Move on.”

He ran back toward the freight wagon, calling out to Andy Campbell. “Throw them stock animals ahead of us. If they stampede, maybe the teams will follow.”

Carl climbed to the seat and cracked his whip. The mules were reluctant to start pulling, and Carl assaulted the air again with the whip until he had provoked the animals into a shambling sort of hurry. He wished the girls weren’t on the seat with him. Maybe then he’d feel like telling the team what he thought of their efforts.

Looking back at the smoke, Carl gauged the fire’s advance. He could see flame now, growing dark orange as the fire paused to engulf a grove of trees. The smoke became black, towering upward into the blue heaven.

Hush
, he thought,
we ain’t going to outrun this fire
.

He turned to urge the beasts onward at a faster pace and caught sight of Ida’s white, set face. She stared straight ahead, fingers tightly gripping the edges of the seat.

“We’ll make it,” he grunted, forcing himself to sound confident. “I ain’t come this far west to burn up in no fire!”

Ida gave no sign of having heard him, but continued to stare ahead. Carl took his gaze from her face and whipped the mules a little faster. The trotting animals smelled the smoke on the wind from the east and lurched into the hames, frightened by the volume of the odor.

He turned to check the fire’s progress again, and a groan escaped his tightly compressed lips, startling Ida out of her trance. She turned and hurled herself against Carl, grabbing him around the neck and cutting off his control of the team.

“Carl, Carl!” she screamed. “Don’t let me get burned. I don’t want no scars!”

He struggled with the panicked girl, trying to loosen her hold on his neck, trying to catch his breath. His right arm came free of her grasp and brushed against his holstered gun. Slipping off the rawhide loop, he drew the Colt and held it overhead, then fired one shot.

Ida jumped at the report of the gun, shrank back from Carl, and huddled on the lurching wagon seat.

At the sound of the gun, the mules took on a new spirit of cooperation and stretched out in a lope, faster than before. Carl replaced his pistol, and seeing that Ida was safe, tried to sooth her with quiet talk.

“Ida, settle down. You’re goin’ to be just fine,” he said softly, his words jolted and cut up from the movement of the wagon. Smoke billowed on all sides of them now as the wind blew fiercely from the rear. Carl’s belly twisted as he realized that time was short, too short, before the fire overtook them.

Like a sentinel of salvation, a lone oak tree stood out against the western sky just ahead. Carl’s heart swelled with hope, and he stood up and popped his whip.