The Last Ride of Caleb O'Toole (3 page)

Caleb clutched his Sharps rifle and slammed it against his shoulder. The hairs on his neck pricked up as he strained to look out the window. Thunder and lightning blew up the night as the rain lashed against the little dugout hunter's cabin that sat by the Smokey Hill River. Something was moving among the trees outside the cabin. Julie quickly blew the candle out. After several days of rough travel on the road north out of Great Bend, a fierce storm broke out. Try as they may, they could no longer push through the deep mud of the rugged road. They decided to wait out the weather in the stinking, musty hole in the earth with a slapped-together roof and wooden floor. For four days, they sat huddled among several old buffalo hides that lay stacked in the corner, leftovers from a time when the beasts still roamed the Kansas prairies. Things smelled pretty bad inside, but at least the broken-down dugout kept most of the rain off them.

Caleb caught a flash of movement near the wagon. His heart hammered against his chest as he heard Dusty whinny in alarm. He tried to get a better look at whatever was outside, but in the lightning flashes, he could only catch glimpses of Dusty nervously shifting around.

“See anything out there?” Julie said as she grabbed hold of Tilly and held her tight. Tumble growled a warning that said that there was something he didn't like lurking outside.

“No, but Dusty is acting like something's up,” said Caleb as he peered through the window.

“Maybe it's the dragon!” cried Tilly as she buried her head against Julie's shoulder. She was tormented by visions of the black-cloaked men who murdered the Thatchers in Great Bend, terrified that the black-toothed one would find her and eat her.

“I see something!” Caleb yelled.

“Indians?” whispered Julie.

“No. It jumped on the wagon.” Just then Dusty let out a loud, screaming whinny. Caleb gave the door a mighty shove, aiming the rifle at the moving shapes in the dark. The lightning flashed again. Wolves! They were all over the wagon, tearing into their supplies. One huge wolf leaped onto Dusty's back, but the powerful horse bucked and kicked out his hind legs, shaking off the wolf. Caleb aimed and fired, just missing the snarling beast. The wolf rolled along the ground, then gathered himself to attack Dusty once again as the other wolves scattered. Caleb reached into his pocket for a bullet, trying with all his might to remain calm. He fumbled it and it fell to the ground as precious seconds ticked away. Finally, he locked in another one and pulled back the hammer. Dusty reared and stomped with his front hooves, keeping the wolf at bay. Caleb fired again, but this time the rifle wasn't snug against his shoulder, and the hard kick from the gun sent him reeling against the dugout. The wolf leaped onto Dusty's back as Caleb scrambled desperately to his feet and reloaded. In a split second, Julie was at his side. Julie let loose on the wolf as fast as she could, the Colt revolver spitting flame. Caleb fired again, and the wolf jumped off Dusty and dashed away into the cover of the trees. Tumble raced from the cabin like the devil's wind and charged through the trees after the huge wolf.

“Get 'em, Tumble!” shouted Tilly as she came running out the door.

“Tilly! Get back in there!” Julie snagged little Tilly and pushed her back into the cabin. She then lit a candle, and holding a bucket upside down over it to keep it dry, walked outside, kicking the door shut behind her. Caleb held his rifle at the ready as they went over to check on Dusty and the wagon.

“Is he OK?” asked Julie as she held the candle up for Caleb to see.

Caleb stroked his horse to try to calm him. “Easy, boy.” Caleb felt around Dusty's neck and shoulders. “It doesn't look like it got its teeth into him. There are a few deep claw scratches, but nothing serious. I'll take care of it in the morning.”

“Oh, no! They got most of our food. Look.” They could see that the wolves had torn off the wooden top of their supply chest. Their teeth marks were visible, even on the metal hinges. Soaked to the bone, Caleb took another look around, thinking that any animal that could do this to wood and metal could make short work of them. A snap of a branch in the tree line startled him and he raised the Sharps quickly. It was Tumble, jogging proudly back. The wolves had fled.

“Good boy, Tumble,” Caleb gave the little mutt a scratch on the head.

“Saved the day,” Julie added with a smirk.

***

“Kearney Junction is still pretty far off. Maybe we should head to Red Cloud.” Julie sat in the cabin, studying a map in the candlelight.

“No!” exclaimed Tilly. “We'll get attacked!”

“No, Tilly, not the Indian, Red Cloud. I mean the town. Folks named it after him.” Julie managed a laugh as Tilly snuggled fearfully into her arms. “Besides, Chief Red Cloud doesn't fight anymore. He went to Washington to try to make peace for his people.”

Caleb smiled sadly as he listened to Julie talk about the once fierce Sioux Chief. It reminded him of happier times of being gathered around the family supper table, listening to his father rail against politicians in Washington for breaking many of the Indian treaties. He would often peer from around his newspaper and snap off a question about the Indian Wars or politics. If you didn't know the answer, he would hand out paper and pen and with a stern look say, “Write it down, son!” Then he would grin and ruffle Caleb's hair. He did a lot of writing during supper. Julie, it seemed, always knew the answers.

“I don't think the railroad goes through there yet,” said Caleb. “Maybe we should head east to Kansas City, pick up the train there.”

“Too far. Our food won't last.” Julie chewed her lip as she ran her finger along the map.

“What if we head west?” offered Caleb.

“There's nothing. You'd have to go all the way to Colorado. No, Red Cloud is our best bet. Looks like it could be about a hundred miles.” Julie studied the map and stroked Tilly's hair. “We could stock up on food and then head north for Kearney Junction. Closest train is there. According to the map, we can take it all the way to Utah. Then we head up to Montana Territory.”

Caleb kicked himself for not thinking of bringing their food in at night. That was one mistake. The other was not reloading the Sharps fast enough. He vowed to practice. “How much money do we have?”

“About fifty dollars. But that should get us to Virginia City. The letter says the thousand dollars is in the bank there. We'll pick it up and then find Aunt Sarah's ranch. We could always sell Dusty for more money in Kearney Junction before we get on the train.” Julie looked at Caleb's crestfallen expression.

“I'll never sell him,” said Caleb, shaking his head at the thought. He couldn't imagine his world without his faithful horse.

“Sorry, bad idea. We'll find a way to take him on the train,” said Julie as she wrapped Tilly in her blanket. “We better head out as soon as the rain lets up.” She rolled up the map and snuggled beside Tilly. Then she brought out the Colt pistol and rested it at her side. “Can you take the first watch?”

Caleb nodded his head, then reached for the Sharps and brought a stool over to the window. No way was he going to let anything else happen that night. This time he stuck a spare bullet in his teeth.

***

Seven days later, exhausted from the insufferable Kansas heat and nearly starving, they made it to Red Cloud. Caleb, his hands raw from handling the reins, drove the buckboard through the little town. The hammering and sawing of people building new shops echoed through the dusty street. Smaller than Great Bend, Red Cloud was booming in anticipation of the coming railroad. It seemed everyone was out making preparations for the Fourth of July. Banners were being strung, flags raised, and a brass band played in the town square. They rode past a mercantile, the undertaker, a bakery, and the drugstore. There was an outfitter store, dress shop, barber, church, hardware store, and a loan office. Cattle were driven through the street by dusty cowhands. A number of peaceful Pawnee Indians sat trading their wares. Compared to the troubles in Great Bend, Red Cloud was heaven. It all seemed so civilized. How strange it felt compared to what they had been through. Suddenly, Julie reached over and squeezed his arm.

“Caleb, pull over into the alley.” Julie smiled at the Sheriff, who was watching them out of the corner of his eye as he talked with a well-dressed woman holding a brightly colored parasol. The woman pointed toward the wagon. “Real easy so we don't attract attention.” She gave the Sheriff a polite nod as Caleb guided Dusty behind the Smith Brothers' store.

Caleb caught on immediately and gave the reins a shake. Dusty yanked the buckboard quickly down the alley and out of sight. Then they doubled back, bypassing Red Cloud, and came to a stop in a grove of trees near a wide river about a mile away. Julie began stripping off her filthy dress down to her undergarments.

“Should have thought of this before.” She then grabbed Tilly's clothes and nodded toward the river. “Let's clean up before we head back to town. Folks seeing us come in from the south, frightful as we look, they may get suspicious. Chances are some will know of the cholera in Great Bend and they might be on the alert. That would scare the entire town of Red Cloud.”

“Should dry in no time in this heat,” said Caleb as he jumped in the river, clothes and all. The cold water felt good. He squeezed his blistered hands, trying to get some life back into them. “I'll head to that outfitter store later and see what I can get. You and Tilly should probably stay here.”

“Go in from the north and if anyone asks…”

“I'll tell them I'm from Kansas City.”

***

Caleb managed to lay in a few supplies for the trip north. They stayed hidden outside Red Cloud to rest for two days, bathing discreetly in the water from Republican River, sleeping at night under their wagon. Then they rode north without any trouble for four more days until they finally reached Kearney Junction.

Caleb drove Dusty over the bridge that spanned the Platte River. In the distance, he saw railroad tracks and steered Dusty over toward the train depot. They had traveled nearly two hundred miles in a few weeks. They should be proud of themselves.

“Looks kind of dead,” said Julie, looking around for signs of life. For a town that was a hub of the Northern Railroad, it seemed strangely deserted. A few people could be seen farther up the street, but it was eerily quiet. Two pack mules hitched to a railing brushed at flies with their tails in the summer heat. A lone dog sauntered slowly to the middle of the road and lay down, stretching without a care in the world. Caleb eased the wagon over to the train platform. He jumped off the buckboard and tied Dusty to a post. Julie climbed down and held her arms out for Tilly and helped her down. “Let's look around.”

***

The depot office had a “CLOSED” sign on the door. Caleb peered inside the windows as Julie and Tilly searched along the track. Finally Caleb spotted the depot master who was napping inside, hat over his face. Caleb banged on the window until the man got up and shuffled to the door.

“Can't you read?” said the grouchy little man. “We're closed!”

“When is the next train due in?” asked Caleb.

“Ain't one.” sniffed the man. “They ain't runnin'.” Tumble decided he didn't like him and gave a low growl. “You hold on to that dog of yours.”

“Tumble, here!” called Tilly, and the dog reluctantly obeyed.

“What do you mean, there's no train?” said Julie. “They were running in Great Bend, at least they were until the cholera came.”

“There's a railroad strike a comin', haven't you heard? Word is it's gonna happen next week. Whole country's a mess for it.” The depot master folded his arms and snorted.

“A strike? But we have to get to the Bitterroot,” said Caleb.

“The Bitterroot? On the train?” laughed the depot master.

“Yes. We're to take the train west toward Utah and head north to Virginia City,” offered Julie as she studied the letter.

“Well, you wouldn't get far, even if there weren't no strike,” said the depot master as he shook his head. “They only got part of the Montana route built. They're still workin' on it. No tellin' when it'll be ready to travel. You best head back where you came from.”

“So, how do we get there?” Caleb asked the man, glancing at Julie's crestfallen face.

“Only way is to wait for the wagon train to build up near Dobytown like they did in the old days. Head out on the Oregon Trail, then up the Bozeman Trail to Montana Territory. Take you at least a couple of months or more. Daggone dangerous on the Trail. Between the killers and the thieves, I'd say your chances ain't worth a bucket of mud. Worse, the Sioux are pretty riled up between here and there.”

Caleb shivered at this news, for the Oregon Trail was a massive and dangerous undertaking. Pioneers began the journey from the Missouri River in eastern Kansas and traveled some two thousand rocky miles through Nebraska and the rugged territories of Wyoming and Idaho. It was the only direct route and it was a treacherous one. Some made it safely in huge ox-driven wagon trains all the way to California and Oregon, looking for gold or a better life. But here they were, just three children and a little buckboard. Besides the thieves, murderers, and hostile Indians, there were also bears, mountain lions, tornadoes—all sorts of unknown dangers. Caleb knew that their chances were slim because so many pioneers perished. They were buried in shallow graves alongside the Trail.