The Last Ride of Caleb O'Toole (19 page)

“They know not why you wear Indian clothes and have the red Sioux buffalo mark on your wagon. There must be something about that. It is hard to know always what to do. Some say kill all the whites. Joseph does not want this. We have ridden many miles; we have fought many wars with the white man. We wished to settle in the valley of the Bitterroot, but there are whites who will not let us be. That is why they attacked us at Big Hole. That is why they come for us still.” Yellow Wolf chewed thoughtfully as he gazed out on the field of purple flowers. “We must find a way out of this place. The soldiers are not far behind. Our scouts are all looking.”

Caleb caught Julie's eye. “We know a way,” he said.

“We were just with Touch the Clouds,” said Julie. “It's his way into the park. He says only he knows of this pass. They go that way to stay away from the soldiers and the settlers.”

“Will you show me this way?” Yellow Wolf's eyes shone bright with anticipation.

Caleb and Julie sat with Yellow Wolf and the other Nez Perce Indians and drew a map in the dirt as best they could remember of their travels the last few days. They described in detail the landmarks along the way, the geysers, the lake, and the rivers. Satisfied with the map's accuracy, they packed up their wagon and rode with Yellow Wolf and his fellow scouts, past the buffalo and the elk, the moose and the beaver.
It
is
hard
to
figure
, Caleb thought as Pride carried him through the Fireweed. The Nez Perce had killed the trappers, yet they had spared Caleb and his sisters and possibly saved their lives. He felt welcome in the presence of the same people who had just been needlessly attacked at Big Hole.
Perhaps
the
Indians
will
make
their
escape
and
settle
in
a
new
place, free to live as they desire
, Caleb thought. Then he remembered the words of Touch the Clouds. Change was happening and there was nothing they could do about it. Perhaps the old ways of the Nez Perce were gone.

Caleb and his sisters pulled to the side of the trail near a crashing waterfall that cut through a gorge. Yellow Wolf and his men disappeared briefly into the forest. Soon, Chief Joseph and hundreds of Nez Perce emerged from the trees. Like the Sioux, they were fast and efficient. These Indians traveled with almost military precision using forward and rear guards. Yellow Wolf raised his hand to Caleb in farewell as he trotted toward them with the Chief. Caleb and his sisters returned the gesture as Chief Joseph nodded to them and rode quickly past. In his heart, Caleb hoped they rode to freedom.

Caleb swallowed hard as they rode past the gallows that stood in front of the large brick courthouse. A man in a black hood was working on the hangman's rope, testing its strength. He pulled a lever, and a weighted sack tied to the noose crashed through a trap door. It jerked to a stop and then made an ominous creaking sound as it swung side to side. The gallows stood as a warning to all the murderers, con artists, and robbers entering the streets of Virginia City. Run afoul of the law and you will be hanged. The undertaker was often the busiest man in this rugged land. Resting in the hills of the Northern Rockies, the town was built on gold and blood.

Fashionable women mixed oddly with cowboys and miners among the wooden shops and stores that lined Main Street. Dressed in fancy clothes, the women crisscrossed the busy streets, chatting arm in arm as filthy men filed in and out of the saloons and assay offices. Prospectors, their horses laden with tools, mingled with fur-trading Indians and trappers. With its hotels, supply stores, blacksmiths, saloons, a bakery, school, Sheriff's office, and theaters, Virginia City, the former capital of Montana Territory, was in full swing. As they rode a little farther through the town, Caleb found what they were looking for. They pulled up in front of the Virginia City Bank. Julie grabbed the letter and they went inside, leaving Tumble tied aboard the wagon.

“Sarah O'Toole's kin?” The busy bank teller looked over the letter that Julie had given him.

“Yes, sir. We have a thousand dollars here that was wired by our mother in Great Bend.”

“Don't have it,” sniffed the bank teller as he handed the letter back to Julie.

“What do you mean, you don't have it? It's our money. The letter plainly says we are to withdraw the money and find Aunt Sarah.” Julie tried to thrust the letter back into the man's hands.

“Well, we did have it. About a month ago, your aunt came in here and demanded the money. Says you children died of cholera in Great Bend. She's next of kin, so she took it. You want the money, you see her.”

“But why would she say we all died of cholera?” protested Caleb. “We're supposed to live with her on her ranch.”

“None of my business, but word is she fell on hard times. And I know that ranch. It's clear over in the Bitterroot and it ain't fit to be lived in. She tried to sell the bank that broken-down wreck of a place. She don't even live there anymore,” said the teller. “Now, go about your business. I gotta lock up.”

“What are we going to do?” asked Caleb.

“Find her.” Julie folded the letter, eyeing the banker. “Where is she?”

“Like I said, it's none of my business. A woman's got to do what she can,” said the officious little man. “You'll most likely find her working Skinner's Saloon in Bannack. Last I heard, she took up with a gambler. Now beat it.” The teller ushered them out the door. “The show's about to start.”

“What kind of a show,” asked Tilly.

“The vigilantes are hanging a thief,” said the teller. “Now git!”

“Come on, Tilly.” Julie grabbed for Tilly's hand and hurried her to the wagon.

“Should we look for a place in town to stay for the night?” asked Caleb.

“No. I think we should find Aunt Sarah. The sooner we leave the better.” Julie and Tilly climbed aboard the wagon.

Caleb mounted Pride, took out his map from the saddlebags, and studied it. “Looks like seventy or eighty miles to Bannack. I figure four or five days, depending on the road.”

“Caleb, I'll not spend another minute in this town,” Julie urged. “Our money and our lives depend on us getting to Bannack, and I will travel under the light of the moon if I have to. Let's go.” Julie flipped the reins and brought Dusty into a quick trot. As they rode out on Main Street, the townsfolk began to spill out of the shops and saloons and rush back toward the courthouse to see the hanging. Several men in black hoods galloped past and headed toward the gallows.

“Must be the vigilantes,” said Caleb with a shiver.

A commotion and shouts turned their heads. Other black-hooded men were dragging the thief up the gallows steps to meet his fate.

“Let's get out of here, Caleb!” shouted Julie as she gave the reins a snap. “Dusty, yah!”

***

They rode hard and fast for three days along the road to Bannack, passing mounds of dirt that had been dug up by massive steam-powered machines. Giant metal gears pulverized rocks, the earsplitting, grinding noise shattering the natural silence of the land. A hydraulic water-spewing cannon tore at cliffs and mountains, destroying all before it in the mad search for gold. They kept a watchful eye as they passed hollow-eyed miners and trappers housed along the river, avoiding the filthy desperate souls who lived in primitive caves under rocky overhangs. Murderers and thieves flourished along the road to Bannack. Caleb kept a firm hand on the Henry. Julie gripped the reins with one hand and rested the other on her pistol. They had traveled a thousand miles into the thick of it, and it paid to have your gun-hand filled.

***

“It looks like a stagecoach,” said Caleb as he peered through his telescope. Several gunshots echoed through the hills. “Riders are running up behind and shooting at it. We had better get off the road!”

They pulled into the trees and rocks by the river, hiding the horses and wagon from view as best they could. Caleb tied Pride off, grabbed his Henry, and took cover behind a boulder. Julie tucked Tilly and Tumble safely behind some rocks.

“Tilly, you stay here with Tumble,” said Julie. Then she drew her Colt revolver and settled in beside Caleb. They watched as a Wells Fargo stagecoach raced toward them along the road, black-hooded riders tearing after it. The man who rode shotgun on the stagecoach turned and fired on the riders.

“Looks like the vigilantes from the hanging in Virginia City. They're robbing the stagecoach,” Caleb whispered.

Caleb and Julie watched helplessly as four hooded vigilantes stopped the stagecoach less than a hundred yards away. The driver raised his hands, and the man riding next to him dropped his shotgun. Three men, passengers, were dragged out of the coach. The black-hooded men, guns drawn, stripped them of their coats, robbing the innocent travelers of their belongings. Suddenly, the man riding shotgun went for his weapon. In a flash, the vigilantes fired on him, and he fell from the coach to the ground. Then they turned on the three passengers and shot them point-blank. The vigilantes grabbed the driver of the stagecoach and dragged him over to a nearby tree. One of the thieves threw a rope over the biggest branch while the other murderers hoisted the driver onto a horse. They yanked the rope over the man's head and tied it off to the trunk.

“They're going to hang him, Caleb,” whispered Julie as she clutched her brother's arm. “We've got to do something.” Suddenly, the vigilantes pulled the horse away, and the poor stagecoach driver was left hanging by his neck, his feet dancing in the air.

“We've got to drive them off.” Caleb, thinking fast, drew a bead on the murderers. Quickly, he fired several shots at a large granite rock next to the thieves. The ricochets echoed through the hills. Julie raised her Colt and blasted as fast as she could alongside her brother.

The vigilantes dove for cover, not knowing where the gunfire was coming from. They then quickly mounted their horses, shooting all around at their hidden assailants. Caleb and Julie kept up a deliberate fire as the thieves galloped away. “Let's go! We've got to cut him down!” Caleb raced over to Pride, leaped onto the saddle, and headed fast to the swinging, hanging man. Julie grabbed Tilly and Tumble and ran to the wagon.

Caleb drew his knife, slashed the rope, and the driver fell to the ground. He was alive! The choking driver clasped his neck, desperately trying to draw a breath. Caleb grabbed his Henry and began to reload in case the thieves returned. Julie pulled the wagon to a halt and ran to the fallen man to try to help him.

***

“Name's Mathew.” After a few minutes, the driver of the stagecoach let Julie rub some ointment on the raw and nasty rope burn on his neck. “Got to thank you for what you did. I owe you my life. Real brave of you,” he gasped, his voice straining from the injury. “It never ends in these parts. Highwaymen have been robbin' and killin' folks for years. Vigilantes are mostly crooks too. You're taking a big chance out here alone. I'll tell you, this is my last ride. If you'll help me with these poor dead folks, I'll make my way into Bannack and turn them over. Then I figure to take this rig south Utah way. It's just too murderous up here.” Mathew rose and looked sadly at one of the dead. “Ol' Jim here was my best shotgun. Gonna miss him.”

“Are things this bad in Bannack?” asked Julie.

“Vigilantes hanged Sheriff Plummer there some years back. Word was even he was a crook. Not much going on now. Used to be a gold town, but things have slowed some. Logan Porter is a good man. He's the new law there. He'll want to hear your story when he comes back from dealing with that Nez Perce mess in Big Hole,” sighed Mathew.

“How far is Bannack?” asked Caleb as he helped Mathew carry Ol' Jim and lay him in the stagecoach.

“Just another day or so down the road.”

“We'll ride with you, if that's all right.” Caleb turned to another body and helped lift the poor man into the stagecoach.

“Son, the way you handle that Henry of yours, I welcome it!” said Mathew. “Let's go.”

They made it to Bannack without farther trouble, their hopes riding on finding their Aunt Sarah and the money that was owed them. As they rode down the sad, dusty street, Caleb wondered if his father's sister would even remember them. He dismounted and tied Pride off to the railing outside the rickety old Skinner's Saloon next to the Hotel Meade. Julie pulled up in the wagon next to him as Mathew brought the stagecoach to a halt on the other side of the street. Several men walked over on Mathew's signal and began to remove the bodies of the dead. The run-down wooden shacks and shops of the town spoke of decline and decay. Unlike the bustle of Virginia City, Bannack, the first territorial capital, felt empty of promise and riches. It had gone bust.

“You want to wait out here with Tilly, and I'll go find Aunt Sarah?” asked Caleb as he grabbed his Henry rifle.

“When you do, bring her out here,” said Julie, her jaw set with determination. “We've got a lot to straighten out about our money.”

“Maybe she has a good explanation.”

“For her sake, I hope she still has it.” Julie reached for Tilly and hugged her close.

Caleb pushed open the weather-beaten swinging doors of Skinner's Saloon to the lively music that normally accompanies a drinking hole. As his eyes adjusted to the smoky, dim light, he could see cowboys, miners, and trappers lined up along the bar, draping their drunken selves on the three worn-out saloon girls. As he looked at the women, it was impossible to recognize anything of his aunt in them.

“Well, I'm feeling lucky!” said a sharp-looking gambler with slicked black hair at a poker table in the corner of the saloon. “I'm a little short on cash, but this watch is worth fifty dollars. All the way from Switzerland! Take a look at it, Gabe.”

“I'll give you twenty, Roy,” said Gabe as he examined the watch.

“Or I can sell you that glass eye of Taylor's if you'd rather have that!” Roy slapped another poker player on the back. As the man turned, guffawing at the joke, Caleb could see he had a glass left eye.

Caleb looked hard at the gambler, wondering if he was the one his Aunt Sarah was with.

“Boy, state your business and get on out,” snapped the saloon owner. “Not right for you to be in here.”

“Where can I find Sarah O'Toole?”

“She's in the back. She'll be a while. She's working the bath and the feller's caked in coal dust. You go wait outside. Go on!”

There was a time when Caleb would have politely done what the man said, but that seemed a long time ago. Instead, he walked straight through the door to the back of the saloon.

Caleb heard laughter from behind the door leading to the baths in the private rooms as he walked down the hall of Skinner's Saloon. He knocked on one of the doors.

“Sarah O'Toole!” called Caleb.

“Next one down!” cried out a woman's voice.

Caleb went to the next door. A man's voice could be heard on the other side. Caleb took his Henry and banged on the door with the rifle butt.

“Wait yer turn!” yelled a man from inside.

Caleb smashed the butt of the rifle even harder against the door. A woman jerked the door opened. Some gray graced her once pretty brown hair, and a thick coat of makeup and a frilly dress could not hide the years of struggle and the company of hard-living men. Still, Caleb could tell that this was their Aunt Sarah. Behind her was a man caked with dirt in filthy long johns, sitting in a tub.

“Get out of here!” said the man. “I ain't done yet!”

“Who in tarnation are you and what do you want?” Aunt Sarah demanded, looking Caleb up and down.

“I'm your nephew, Caleb O'Toole. Julie and Tilly are outside.”

The woman's face went slack for a moment as she absorbed the news. “No! It can't be!” Sarah then exclaimed, “Go on, get out! I want nothin' to do with you!”

“Mother said you'd take us in the day she died. She said she sent a thousand dollars and the man in Virginia City said you have it.” A cold wave passed through Caleb as he stood in the doorway. She was nothing like the laughing, smiling person his parents had described through the years. Instead, her eyes shone with suspicion and the corners of her mouth dipped in bitterness.

“Daggone it, Sarah,” whined the filthy man. “I got soap in my eyes!”

“Shut up, Hank,” snapped Aunt Sarah to the man. “I don't have it, Caleb. I loaned it to Roy. He lost it.”

“You gave that gambler, the one in the saloon, our money?”

“He's gonna win it all back, he says. Then we'll go ahead with the plans,” shot back Aunt Sarah.

“What plans?”

“We're heading to Chicago, where he's from. Going to live the life of luxury, he says. He's got a big house there,” Sarah explained desperately, the guilt written on her weary face.

“What the spit is going on, Sarah?” growled the saloon owner as he burst through the door. “Kid, I said for you to get out of here.”

“Not until we're done with our business,” said Caleb, not giving an inch.

“It's just some family trouble, Cyrus. It's not anything,” protested Sarah.

“Then take it outside. Boy has no business being in here,” ordered Cyrus.

***

“Oh, Lord,” gasped Aunt Sarah as she stepped outside into the bright sunlight and looked at Julie and Tilly. “You look just like your mother. It's been a long…”

“Years,” snapped Julie. “I'm Julie. Tilly, this is your Aunt Sarah.” Julie eyed her aunt pointedly. “You remember her from the pictures.”

“My, you children came all the way here. I never thought you'd make it,” Sarah said, smiling nervously.

“Apparently not,” said Julie, keeping her temper in check. “The teller at the Virginia City Bank said that, according to you, we all died from cholera. Why don't we just settle up on our money now?”

“Why, I was telling Caleb here, I just don't have it. I gave it to Roy and he…” Aunt Sarah took a step back from Julie, fumbling her words.

“Well, maybe we should ride to your ranch and work this out,” said Julie, her eyes boring in on Sarah. She pulled Tilly to her. “Tilly, we're going to stay with Aunt Sarah.”

“No!” Aunt Sarah backed toward the saloon. “I don't want you. None of you. I never did. That was your mother's idea.”

“You agreed to it!” exclaimed Julie as Sarah ran into the saloon. Julie hoisted Tilly aboard the wagon next to Tumble. “Tilly, stay out here in the wagon.” Then she turned and followed her aunt inside, banging the saloon doors open. Caleb followed her with his Henry.

“Me and Roy, we have plans!” Sarah backed against the bar as Julie went after her. “We're going to travel the world together, get married. The last thing I want is you children hanging around my neck like a noose. What's more, there is no ranch. We lost it!” Sarah ran over to Roy. “Tell them, Roy!”

“You got a problem?” The slick gambler peered over his cards and eyed Caleb and Julie as they marched over to the poker table and stood in front of him. A pile of money was growing on the table. Along with the money was the watch from Switzerland, a few pouches of gold dust, and a yellow envelope.

“Tell them, Roy. Tell them how we lost the money and the deed to the ranch. Tell them how you're going to make it all back and it was just a little bad luck,” said Sarah breathlessly.

“That's right,” Roy offered slyly. “Just a bad streak. Couple of days, we'll be right as rain and out of here.”

“You took our money?” asked Caleb as he tightened his grip on the Henry.

“Well, more like she loaned it to me. For our future. Like an investment, you might say,” Roy replied calmly as he eyed Caleb and leaned back in his chair.

“And you lost it and gambled away the ranch,” said Julie.

“It happens, Pocahontas,” said Roy as he looked at Julie in her Indian dress. “Besides, that ranch is a worthless piece of junk. What's your stake in this anyway, Sarah darlin'?”

“They're my dead brother's kids. He sent them to live with me,” said Sarah.

“Well, that's not likely to happen. Unless you want them. Do you? I sure as spit don't,” said Roy.

“No, Roy. I want you,” said Sarah desperately.

“You choose a man like this over your own family?” Julie questioned her aunt with disdain.

“Yes! I got one last chance at happiness and the three of you aren't going to take that away.”

“Well, now, there you go,” said Roy with a sinister grin. “Honey, get over here. You're bringing me luck. Working on a nice pot. You brats beat it, now. You can see she don't want you.” He grabbed Sarah and pulled her toward him. Then he raked the money toward himself, sticking the yellow envelope in his vest pocket. With a practiced flair, he grabbed the cards and began to shuffle.

“How much is in that pot?” Caleb asked as he raised the Henry an inch and took a step closer to Roy.

“No you don't, boy!” As slick as grease, Roy whipped a pistol from under the table and aimed it at Caleb. “You lower your rifle right now. I got no problem killing anyone who draws down on me.”

Instantly, the other poker players bolted from their seats and over to the bar. Julie quickly took a step around the table to the other side, drew her Colt, and aimed it directly at Roy's head.

“And I have no problem putting a bullet right through that cheating head of yours.” Roy's smug expression changed in a heartbeat. “It looks like he's got nearly three hundred dollars. That right, Roy? Three hundred?” Julie cocked her Colt. Roy gently lowered his pistol to the table and folded his hands, grinning as he tried to salvage some of the dignity he lost, having been bested by Julie. Caleb picked up the gun and slid it across the room.

“And that envelope in your pocket. I'd like to see that.” Julie stood firm as Roy, quietly seething, produced the envelope. Caleb aimed his Henry straight at Roy's head as Julie looked over the paper. “Well, now. Seems like this is the deed to the ranch, Roy.”

“You said you lost it!” exclaimed Sarah, snatching the deed from Julie's hand.

“I won it back. I was going to tell you. It was a surprise,” said Roy with a big grin, trying to laugh off his predicament.

“What should we do with him, Caleb?” asked Julie.

Caleb thought for a moment. “The stagecoach is leaving pretty soon. I'm thinking he should get on it and head south. I figure the three hundred dollars in this pot might cover it.”

“Good idea.” Julie pressed the Colt against Roy's head. “Roy, we're going to give Mathew your three hundred dollars, and when you get to Utah, you'll have it. Sound like a good deal?”

“Sounds like a good deal to me. I'd take it if I were you, Roy.” Sheriff Logan Porter shouldered his way through the miners and cowboys and stood next to Caleb. His square jaw was set like a block of granite. Sandy blond hair peeked from underneath his hat and his piercing blue eyes danced in amusement at the predicament Roy was in.

“I've been lookin' for an excuse to ride you out of town. Let's go.” Sheriff Porter snatched Roy up by his fancy vest. Caleb gathered up the money, figuring he should leave the watch and the gold dust on the table for the other poker players to divide up. Then Caleb, Julie, and Sheriff Porter marched the gambler out the swinging doors of Skinner's Saloon.

“Got a passenger for you, Mathew!” called Sheriff Porter as he dragged Roy over to the stagecoach. He opened the door and hoisted the gambler into the cabin. “You keep heading south, you hear me, Roy? There's a lot of folks will be happy you're gone. And you are real gone, you got that?”

Roy nodded in humiliation and sat back in the stagecoach, out of sight of the cowboys and miners who jeered from Skinner's Saloon.

“Mathew,” said Caleb as he handed him the money. “I figure your fee is fifty. Give him the rest in Utah, OK?”

“Caleb, my pleasure,” said Mathew as he took the money. “I owe you big.”

“Roy!” cried Sarah as she ran to the stagecoach.

“Make your choice, Aunt Sarah,” said Julie. “It's either us or him.”

“Oh God! No. I just can't. I need him!” exclaimed Sarah as she opened the stagecoach door and climbed aboard. “Here, take that broken-down ranch. I don't want it!” Then she tossed the deed to her ranch in the street and slammed the door shut. “Roy, Roy…it's just you and me,” she wailed as the stagecoach pulled away.

Caleb and Julie watched in the middle of Bannack's dusty Main Street as Mathew drove Aunt Sarah and Roy the gambler out of their lives forever.

***

Caleb handed the letter he had just written to Sheriff Porter in the lawman's office. It felt good to get things off his chest. Julie and Tilly ate sandwiches from Skinner's Saloon.

“So this William Henderson is not the killer of Great Bend and you and Tilly witnessed it?” Sheriff Porter looked at the letter.