Santa Fe Woman (25 page)

“Where is this place, Chad?” Leland asked. He was sitting with his back against the wagon wheel, a tin cup filled with coffee in his hand.

“It’s called the Upper Springs.”

“How far is it from here to Santa Fe?” Jori asked. She was weary and tired of the trip and longed to get some place.

“Maybe two hundred and fifty miles,” Rocklin said. He was sitting close to the fire, and now he picked up a stick and poked it into the yellow flame. He waited until it caught, held it up, and
watched it burn. Finally he blew it out, tossed the stick in, and shrugged. “I guess we’re about two-thirds of the way to where we’re goin’.”

“I wish we were there now,” Jori said. She shook her head, and a look of discouragement shaded her features.

Paul Molitor had joined them for supper. He had been quiet during the meal, and now he said, “We’ve been pretty lucky, Jori.”

“You’re right about that, Paul,” Chad said at once. “All we’ve had is one death by snakebite. Back five years ago a train went across here with ten wagons and over fifty people. They got jumped by a big Sioux war party. Killed every one of them.”

Rocklin’s words seemed to cast a pall after that, and Molitor finally said, “My turn to go stand guard.” He picked up the rifle and grinned suddenly at Rocklin. “You might as well send Carleen out there.”

“Don’t you think you could shoot an Indian if he was trying to take your scalp?”

“I doubt if I could hit an elephant from ten yards away.”

“Well, if a Comanche came, you’d never see him. He’d have your throat cut before you could look up.”

“That’s a cheerful thought.” Molitor left the campfire and moved outside of the ring of wagons. He had taken instructions from Rocklin on how to keep guard, and the moon was fairly bright. There were practically no trees in this part of the world, so he felt exposed, but he knew he composed one part of a line that circled the camp. Far off to his right he knew Brodie Donahue was on guard. To his left was Stuffy McGinnis, and on the other side Eddie Plank formed the circle. He stood gazing out to the west, but the sun had disappeared completely. He was occupied with his own thoughts when he heard the sound
of footsteps coming from his left. His breath quickened and he held his rifle up, but then he saw that it was no Indian. “Hello, Callie,” he said.

“Hello, Paul. You on guard here?”

“That’s my assignment. I was just telling Chad I don’t think I could hit an Indian if I saw one.”

Callie came over and sat down. He eased himself down and said, “Is the stock all right tonight?”

“Yes, they’re too tired and thirsty to run off.”

Callie was intensely curious about Paul Molitor. She had come on purpose to find him. Now she began to ask him questions about himself. She noticed that he revealed as little as possible, and finally she said, “I think Mark Hayden likes me.”

“Really? Well, that’s not surprising.”

“What about you, Paul? Do you like me?”

The straightforward question caught Paul Molitor off guard. He grinned suddenly and said, “I’m old enough to be your father.”

“How old are you?”

“I’m thirty-three.”

“Well, I’m almost eighteen. You might be my big brother.”

“I’d be honored.”

“Do you have any sisters?”

“No, nor a brother either. I was an only child.” He turned to face her. “Do you like Mark?”

“Oh, well enough, but he would never marry a girl like me.”

“Why do you say that?”

“He’s a rich man.”

“Not anymore if what I hear is true. If this wagon train thing doesn’t work, the whole Hayden family will be busted.”

“No, he’s tried to kiss me, but he’d try that with any girl.” She suddenly leaned forward so she could look into his face. “You’ve never tried to kiss me, Paul.”

“No, I haven’t.”

“Why not?”

“It wouldn’t be right.”

“Men don’t worry about things like that.”

“Some of us do.”

Callie was intrigued by the man. As far as she could remember, he was the only man that she had been around for any length of time who had not tried her virtue. She suddenly had an idea and said innocently, “My shoulder hurt a little bit today. Do you think it’s all right?”

“It hurt? Let’s see.” Molitor laid the rifle down carefully, then turned. He reached out and put his hand on her shoulder. “Where does it hurt? Here?”

She took his hand and guided it. “No. More like here, I think. Just a twinge.”

Molitor said, “Raise your arm—now move it back and forth.” He put one hand behind her shoulder and one in front so that he was holding her tightly. He could feel the firmness of the muscle, yet there was the softness of a woman there, too. Suddenly he realized that he had his hands on a young woman and old hungers took him. He knew that Callie was aware of this, and his face grew warm.

“Now,” Callie said, tilting her head back, “you’ll try to kiss me.”

“I’m tempted, Callie, I really am.” He released her and picked up the gun and for a moment was silent. “You don’t need a problem like me, Callie.”

Somehow Callie’s feelings were hurt. She had spent so much time fighting off the attentions of men, and this one who she liked
was not interested. “You see. You come from the same world as Mark. I can tell. You had money and nice things. You’re educated. You wouldn’t think of me as a wife.”

“I wouldn’t think of anyone for a wife now, Callie, but it’s not because you’re not a fine woman and pretty, too.”

“Why not then, Paul?”

“I’ve got nothing to bring to you.”

Callie could not understand this. She thought for a long moment and then she said, “You have yourself, Paul.”

Molitor suddenly stood up. The encounter had troubled him. Callie rose and said nothing. He reached out and touched her cheek. “Be careful, Callie. I’m not a man you should trust. Now you need to leave here.”

Callie did not move for a moment, and Molitor saw then that there were tears in her eyes. “I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he said, but she had already turned and walked away into the darkness.

* * *

“WELL, THERE THEY ARE, Jori.”

Jori was riding alongside of Rocklin. She had tired of the wagon and was tired of walking, and she had joined him without invitation. His horse was moving slowly about a half mile ahead of the wagons. She looked in the direction of his gesture. “There what are?” she asked.

“Don’t you see them? It’s buffalo.”

Jori narrowed her eyes and stared ahead. It suddenly seemed like the ground was moving. “That’s buffalo!” she exclaimed.

“Not a very big herd, but we’ll have good eats tonight. Come on, I’ll let you shoot one.”

“No, I don’t want to, but I’ll watch you.”

The two rode on, and Jori was astonished at the size of the herd. As they drew nearer it seemed to stretch out for miles.

“This is a big herd!” she exclaimed.

“Sometimes it takes half a day to get through a herd. It’s pretty handy here. I’ll drop one and we’ll camp. Sometimes you have to drag the things back for miles to get to a camp.” He pulled his rifle and the two rode right up, walking their horses at a slow pace.

“Why don’t they run away?”

“They haven’t been spooked yet. They’re just like cattle, but if they do stampede, it’s a pretty serious thing.” He lifted the rifle, and the explosion shattered the afternoon air.

“You missed.”

“No. Watch him now, that big one right over there.”

Jori watched as the big, woolly animal walked steadily. Even as she watched, his front legs seemed to collapse, and he rolled over sending a cloud of dust high in the air.

“You have to hit ’em just right. Here, you hold my horse, and I’ll get started on the skinning.”

* * *

“I NEVER KNEW ANYTHING could be so good,” Leland Hayden said. They had eaten the tongue and the hump of the buffalo, and Leland said, “I know now what you meant about bein’ satisfied with buffalo meat.”

“Pretty near all you need,” Rocklin nodded. “You never get tired of it either, not like other meats.”

It was the second day of the feast on the buffalo. The men had gone off on a hunt and had killed several more. Kate had protested, “Why shoot them?”

“That’s the way men are. They love to shoot things,” Rocklin said. But Kate knew he didn’t like it either.

As for Jori, she had discovered it was the best meat she had ever had. “I don’t know why it is, but I can eat all I can hold and three or four hours later I can eat all over again.”

Mark was gnawing on a bone, and he grinned suddenly. “Some of the mule skinners ate the livers raw. I don’t think I could handle that.”

They were interrupted when Rocklin stood up.

“What is it, Chad?” Jori asked quickly.

“Someone coming.”

“I didn’t hear anything,” Mark said.

But no sooner had he spoken than Kicking Bird and Four Bears stepped into the ring made by the wagons.

“How’d you two get past the guards?” Mark asked with astonishment.

“You might as well put puppies out for guards,” Kicking Bird grinned.

“Here, plenty of buffalo left. Sit down and eat.”

The two Indians sat and ate an astonishing amount of the buffalo meat. They ate with a gusto that amused Jori, but she realized she was no better.

“What did you find, Bird?” Rocklin asked.

Kicking Bird wiped his mouth with his forearm. The grease was running down his chin. “Big war party over there.” He motioned toward the north.

“Kiowa?”

“I think yes,” Four Bears said. “I think maybe Santana.”

Instantly something changed in Rocklin. He grew rigid, and his face grew harsh.

“Did you see him?”

“No, but his band likes this place.”

Rocklin said no more, but before he left to go on guard that night he stopped by and said, “Jori, stay close to the wagons. Don’t wander off, and watch out for Carleen. Pass the word.”

“You think it’s bad, don’t you?”

“Maybe not.”

“I’m afraid, Chad.”

“That’s a good thing. You hang onto that.” He suddenly smiled, reached out and put his hand on her upper arm. “You’ll make it fine,” he said. “Just be careful.”

THE THREAT OF HOSTILE Indians changed the nature of the entire train. Rocklin sent riders out, including the Indians, as sentinels. He also sent flankers out on each side, and a close guard was kept in the rear. A stricter guard was kept at night, and everyone’s nerves were on edge continually.

The land itself had changed, for the Cimarron Cutoff leading into the south dipped into the Llano Estacado. The land was no longer level but dipped almost violently at times, then rose again in ridges that caused a strain on the animals. The vegetation grew scarce, sometimes vanishing and at other times decorated with skimpy oaks and cottonwoods. The only grass for the animals was clumpy and tough. To Jori the worst thing about it was the vastness. It seemed as empty and alien as the surface of the moon! She wanted to rush ahead to get through it, to arrive at Santa Fe. There seemed to be no end to the travel, and sometimes it was difficult to make out where the line of the sky met the horizon of the earth.

Every day seemed to grow hotter. The sun seemed to burn into her brain and strike her almost with a physical force. The days were miserable, but the nights, for some strange reason, seemed to be better. The sky seemed to be much closer now to earth, and the stars were brighter and glittered like scattered jewels across the
sky. All sound seemed to be magnified. The clink of two utensils carried like a gunshot, and the barking and howling of the coyotes seemed so close that many times she would look up expecting to see one. As several days passed, Jori grew weary of the greasewood, the stunted cactus, the patchy grass, and the crumbling earth mixed with sand. Strangely enough she was, at odd times, caught with the unearthly beauty of the land. The sky, especially at night when the sun was low, would turn gold with dark stripes of shadows. It was a terrible, desolate kind of beauty and one that frightened her.

On the twenty-eighth of June, Jori looked up to see Rocklin. He stopped in front of her and studied her face. “You’re sunburned,” he said. “You need to put some grease on that.”

“I don’t know if we have any.”

“Somebody will have some. Use axle grease if nothing else.”

Jori suddenly laughed. “Wouldn’t I be a sight then? Kate usually has something for any kind of ailment. Where are we?”

“We’ll be at Rabbit Ear Creek by nightfall.”

“I hope it’s a nice, clean creek.”

“Probably be dry this time of year.”

“It’s a terrible land, Rocklin. Is Santa Fe any better?”

“There’s a river there, but it’s not like Little Rock.”

“I miss the forest and the trees from back home.”

“Like I say, this isn’t your home.” He turned sideways in the saddle and studied her. Her face in its habitual repose had an expression that stirred his curiosity until he found himself trying to find a name for it. It was something like the gravity that comes when someone has seen too much and needs a place of quiet repose. “You’re a little bit down today.”

“I have been for a long time. The worst thing is I don’t even know why I’m unhappy.”

“Maybe we’ll make it without anything bad happening.”

The two rode along silently, and Jori thought it strange how Rocklin’s silences were comfortable. He was not a man who had to make talk, and she had picked up some of his habits. “I don’t know why I’m unhappy,” she said.

“I know that feeling.”

“You’re not unhappy, are you?”

Rocklin reached down and patted his red horse on the neck. “I’ve got plenty to eat today, no bones broken. I’m not sick. Not dodging a Kiowa war party.”

“And that’s happiness for you?”

Her question seemed to trouble Rocklin, and for a time he didn’t answer. Finally he shrugged his shoulders, saying, “I don’t have any answers for that. A good time and some laughter, the memory of a good friend’s greeting, a woman’s face half hidden behind a fan—these are a few fading memories. That’s about all I have, Jori.” Rocklin suddenly laughed. “Don’t ask me to be a philosopher. I don’t have any of that in me.”

“You’ve had a hard life, haven’t you?”