The Last Ride of Caleb O'Toole (15 page)

Caleb looked up at the blazing sun and wiped his tired brow. He didn't know how they could go on after the last few days of rough, slow travel up the Bozeman Trail. They named the Sioux boy Patch, since he had survived that night and wore Julie's stitches like a patched-up doll. To make the travel easier for him, they had cut boughs of pine and made him a bed in the back of the wagon. The Indian would not speak and could not understand them, but Julie and Tilly took great care of him, feeding him, soaking his brow, making sure his bandages were clean and as fresh as they could. Julie went on and on, quoting from her medical book and talking of Dr. Sullivan. She vowed to return to see her one day, even tickled the thought of studying medicine just like her. One day.

They kept Patch tied up for his own good, lest the boy struggle and open his wounds. Caleb was in charge of taking him out a little ways from the wagon, away from his sisters, so the boy could relieve himself in private. He led him by a rope and held his Henry rifle on the Indian as he did his business. He felt bad about having to do that, but he could not trust Patch, even injured as the Indian was. Then he would lead him back and tie him up in the wagon. They didn't know if Patch hated them and wanted to kill them, or if he realized his life had been saved. It was hard to tell what Patch was thinking. But he was getting stronger during the days of travel. Mile after slow mile disappeared under the plodding hooves of faithful Dusty, and still there was no sign of the Sioux warriors.

“Here, Patch,” said Tilly as she climbed onto the wagon to offer him some beans. She spooned out some beans and held it near Patch's lips. At first the boy just stared at Tilly, then he finally smiled, for the first time, and accepted the food. “Good!” She spooned out some more and Patch ate hungrily.

“He's feeling better,” said Julie. “I figure in a day or two, we should let him go.”

“Will his stitches hold up?” Caleb began to load the Henry rifle.

“I don't know, but the farther we take him, the farther he would have to get back to his people.” Julie checked their supplies. “There are just two cans of beans left.”

“I'll go look for some game. Do you want the Henry?”

“No, I'll be fine. I don't want to tempt Patch with it,” Julie said.

“OK.” Caleb jumped aboard the wagon and faced the Indian as Tilly fed him. “Patch, in a day or two we will let you go.” Patch looked at Caleb as he chewed on the beans and shook his head. “Let's see,” mused Caleb. Then he pointed to Patch and tried to sign, gesturing to Patch's horse and then back to Patch. After much effort, the Indian's face brightened and he nodded his head in understanding. “In one or two days,” said Caleb as he counted his fingers. Then he pointed to the Indian's stitched wound and smiled. A look of relief crossed the Indian's face and he smiled back at Caleb. Caleb stuck out his hand and touched Patch's bound hands and wrists, and then he turned and jumped off the wagon.

“I should be back soon.” Caleb took a look behind him as he mounted Pride. “I saw some tracks about a mile back. I'll double back and head east a little, and then I'll circle around.”

“One if there's trouble,” said Julie as she touched the handle of her Colt.

“Two, you know what to do.” Caleb turned Pride around and headed south.

***

Caleb sat in the grass with his telescope and studied the horizon. It had been three hours and he had not seen a thing. He traveled east for a few miles, then back north, always keeping an eye on the landmarks he picked for the location of the wagon. He could not see the trail. In the distance, the Big Horn Mountains loomed in their majesty. Great canyons, giant gouges in the countryside, peppered with blazing red rock, beckoned in their timeless beauty. Plateaus against the brilliant blue sky revealed none of the deer or antelope that accompanied them on their journey north. Finally, Caleb turned back toward the trail. Though he felt defeated, he was confident he would find something the next day. “Let's get back, Pride,” said Caleb as he put away the telescope and slipped the Henry into the deerskin scabbard Julie had made for the rifle.

Caleb sensed there was something wrong as he trotted Pride in the direction of the hollow in the trees where he had left Julie and the wagon. He could see hoofprints and fresh horse dung on the trail. Julie had not fired a shot. Worried, he broke Pride into a gallop as he got within a mile of their hiding place. He stormed into the camp, his Henry out and ready. His sisters and the wagon were gone! Panic began to seize him as Caleb brought Pride around in a circle, studying the ground, trying to read what now looked to be fresh tracks of at least three other horses.

“Julie!” called Caleb. “Tilly!” Caleb's blood ran cold as he saw that hoofprints had overrun the wagon's tracks. He leaped off Pride and ran his hands over the tracks of their wagon, noticing the cut in the wheel, the slice of a line. His greatest fear had been that they would somehow be separated from him, and now it had been realized. Julie and Tilly had been taken. His heart pounded in his ears. What was he to do? He began to feel more and more helpless as seconds ticked away. Caleb slowed his breathing and his senses began to return. He had to think, stay calm. He would track them! The weeks with Ben Johnson had taught him well, and he would put that knowledge to use. Caleb forced himself into action. He raised the Henry to fire a shot to signal his sister, but then stopped. Whoever was with them should not be alerted. It was better to be unseen, and he might need the advantage of surprise. Determination filled his heart as Caleb swung his leg over Pride and raced out on the trail. It would be dark in a few hours. He had to find them. There was no telling how far they were ahead, where they were, or exactly where they were going. He knew it was north, and from the look of the horse hooves, they were moving fast. “Come on, Pride!” Caleb broke the big warhorse into a run for his sisters' lives.

Caleb raced along the Bozeman Trail at breakneck speed as he tried to follow the wagon tracks. Pride tore up the earth with his giant, flying hooves. He figured he must be at least an hour behind, but Pride was making up ground fast. Vast mountains loomed on his left. He searched the trail as the sun dipped below the mountain peaks, his heart pounding and his legs aching as Pride covered the miles beneath him. Suddenly, the trail veered toward a grove of pine trees that grew scattershot on the mesa before him. The wagon tracks deepened in the sand as he took Pride down farther into the cut in the earth. All at once, the wagon tracks disappeared. Caleb brought Pride up quick and looked frantically for the tracks that seemed to have vanished into thin air. Then he saw what appeared to be chopped tumbleweeds between a rocky outcropping and some pine trees. He jumped off Pride and examined the tracks alongside the weeds. The tracks turned straight into them. Caleb moved the tumbleweeds and saw the cut wheel tracks and the hoofprints of the horses. A hidden trail! Quickly he tore away the bushes and the weeds, and then he walked Pride through the dense pine patch until he entered a cathedral-like bowl with boulders stacked high on either side. A stone archway lay before him that was just tall enough for a man and a single horse to get through. There, resting near the stone-walled cathedral, was his wagon.

Caleb looked into the wagon and found that everything still remained. There was no sign of Dusty or the Indian horse. No sign of Julie and Tilly, Tumble or Patch. Caleb studied the ground before him. He knelt and saw the tiny footprint of his little sister, Tumble's paws alongside. They led directly through the archway. Caleb mounted Pride and walked the big horse slowly through the stone arch. It was hard to see at first, and since the sun was setting, his task was all the more difficult. To Caleb, the stone cave smelled like death. He tried to shake the image from his mind as he continued through the passageway. Caleb leaned low over Pride, trusting that the big warhorse could see better than he could as they picked their way along the cave. After some distance, light appeared at the other end of the passageway.

Caleb walked Pride slowly out of the cave and stopped. Before him lay a tremendous ravine. He held his breath as he looked down over the sheer rock cliff.
Lord
, thought Caleb,
it
must
be
five
hundred
feet
down
. He stared in wonder at the sight of such awesome country, its deep red rocks disappearing into the blue river below. Reaching into the saddlebag behind him, he took out his telescope and searched the hills and rocks around him, realizing that this was a place that was meant to be secret. And if that were true, he was certainly not wanted here. As he scanned farther down the ravine, he saw a man with a rifle climb down from a rocky ledge. As he followed the man's descent, he spied a small cabin a half-mile down the winding trail. There, next to the river, several men sat around a growing campfire. Horses stood in a wooded area off to the side, feeding. Patch's pony! And tied to a tree nearby, Dusty!

Caleb followed the rocky trail down the side of the cliff, his Henry rifle at the ready. Pride slipped a little on the loose rock. The footing was bad, and just a few feet to his left, there was a drop of several hundred feet into the river. It was hard going, the sun completely down. A huge moon surfaced behind the rocky ravine on his right. His mind raced as he tried to imagine what he would do if he were seen and how he would deal with the men if he found his sisters. He felt for his knife and the big blade bounced against his hip. He knew from riding with Ben Johnson that his clothes hid him well. By the time Caleb reached the bottom of the ravine, the moon hung in the night sky like a beacon. Caleb slipped into the trees and tied off Pride. Then he crept over the rocks to the cabin, careful not to make a sound. Just the other side of the cabin, a second structure laid half-built, dark on the inside. Caleb sneaked along the ground some fifty feet away and slowly made his way to the second cabin.
I'll check that first
, he thought as he laid next to the structure, holding his breath, his heart beating so fast he could feel it in his ears. Slowly, he slithered to the window and peered inside. There, next to the moonlit window of the opposite wall, lay Patch. He was bound hand and foot, gagged, in pain and alone.

“Wolf, you three fools bring me two girls and an Indian? That ain't much of a haul!” Caleb's head snapped around at the sound of a man's voice coming from the main cabin.

“Well, Jake, just what do you think we ought to do with them?” another voice rang out.

“Ain't made up my mind yet,” said Jake.

Caleb crept silently to the main cabin. Lantern light revealed a gap in the side of the wooden shack, and he peered inside. There were four of the toughest-looking men you would ever want to see. These must be some of the outlaws that Caleb had heard about from the newspapers, men who rode the trails, robbing pioneers and trains. Julie and Tilly sat off to the side, bound and gagged. Tumble was tied to the stove near Tilly.

“I bet we could get some money for 'em,” said a rough-looking man with a black droopy mustache, slouched against the wall. “I mean, we can't rob any of the trains, they ain't running yet. And I tell you, it's daggone boring around here. I say we head south and sell 'em. Mexico maybe. Trains might be moving again after that. We hit one on the way back and ride back here to the Hole.”

“Larson's got himself a good idea, Jake. The little one is like a fairy princess. Raise a fair price down in Mexico,” said a scurvy-looking man who sat on the edge of a wooden table, staring at Tilly. His bowler hat sat ridiculously on his hatchet-like face. His fingers played freely with his pearl-handled Colt, twirling it round and round, as his glazed eyes turned to Julie. “We should keep the older one here for a while, though. For the cookin' and cleanin' and such.”

“He's got a real good point there, Jake. Trigger and I go head Mexico way. You keep this older one here,” said Wolf.

“Maybe. Though you boys have gotta take good care of her or she won't be worth beaver crap in Mexico.” Jake, the apparent leader of the group, dapper in a worn suit, rose from his chair, walked over, and yanked Julie close to him. “What do you think there, girl?” he said as he slipped off her gag. “You could be my Hole in the Wall maid. You can start cleaning tomorrow, scrub some floors, cook us dinner.”

“I would rather die.” Julie leveled her fiery gaze at Jake. “Men like you disgust me.” This brought a big laugh from the men. Even Jake appreciated the boldness that Julie displayed.

“I just wonder who you belong to, girl. Someone has got to be out there looking for the two of you,” mused Jake.

“I told you. No one is looking. We're on our own. Our folks were killed a few days ago by the Sioux. We got away.”

“She may be right,” said Larson. “We saw some wagons still smoking back on the trail. We watched these three for an hour before we took 'em. No one showed up.”