Beyond the Heart Page 11

  Their horses were fleet-footed, and fresh, while the horses of the group, approaching them, were not. However, the cowboy’s long rifles had a longer range than an arrow had, and it would be impossible to try to fight back. Their only chance was to out run them and if necessary, hide until the danger was past.

  The thunder of the cattle filled Chayton’s ears, while Callie’s voice, inside his head, kept repeating ‘Only I wished it.’ It was all he had left to cling to, other than his son, whom he was sure Callie would take good care of if anything happened to him.

  Now they could hear the cowboys yelling, and shooting their guns, as they approached closer, but so far, they were too far away to actually hit anything. The group urged their horses faster.

  “We need to split up,” Chayton suggested. “They cannot follow all of us, and we can meet up at the old village camp-sight,” he suggested.

  Each brave went their separate way, as the riders got closer, and the gunshots became louder. Chayton looked over to his right and saw Bidziil fall from his horse, as a volley hit him in the shoulder. He could see his companion crawling for cover, and urged Bidziil’s horse forward to lead the pursuers in another direction, then he cut to the left, only to feel something rip through his side, and hit against his rib with a shocking pain. He gasped for air but kept riding, heading for cover in a cove of trees near the river. His other companions rode ahead of him in different directions, and he saw the group starting to split up, to follow each one, as shots continued to rip open the sky, and cause the birds in the trees to scatter frantically, in all directions.

  He leaped from his horse, pulling his well-trained pony to the ground with him, in order to hide them both in the underbrush. The thudding of horse’s hooves sped past him, and then the rifle shots were at a farther distance.

  Chayton lifted his hand from his side and could see the blood. He crawled toward the river, scooping up a handful of dry clay, and packed it against his wound, to try to stop the bleeding. He knew it was merely a temporary fix, though. He wasn’t sure how serious his wound actually was, so his only desire was to see the face of Callie, and his son before he ended up dying.

  Once the shots could no longer be heard, Chayton crawled onto his horses back and clicked his tongue to signal his horse, Khoon-gyah, which meant Dancing, to stand up. At first, Khoon-gyah tried to head in the same direction they had been fleeing before he was shot, but Chayton turned him back toward Callie’s ranch because he knew that would be the place she would be heading.

  Chayton fell in, and out of consciousness as his faithful pony continued in the direction, he had aimed him. They were still close to the river, and he managed to fill his water pouch, before he continued on, having Khoon-gyah kneel so he could make it up on his mount’s back again.

  He knew the group of cattlemen, who were returning Callie and her family home, were ahead of him, so he held back, and followed them at a distance.

  Chayton found himself sprawled upon the ground, and couldn’t remember how long he had been lying there. Khoon-gyah was nearby grazing in the grass, waiting for his next command. Chayton was feeling a little stronger, but the fall had knocked the clay loose, and new, fresh blood was seeping from his wound, saturating his shirt, which Clenoa had made for him when they were first married. He loved that shirt, he thought, but Clenoa was dead; and his son would be left with no father or mother if he died too.

  He thought of Callie. She would make a good mother for his son, but he wanted to be there to watch her raise his son. He vaguely remembered her saying she did not want to live in an Indian village, so how was he going to watch his son being raised, he worried?

  Chayton became frantic and whistled for Khoon-gyah. He had to make it to Callie’s ranch before he passed out again and was not able to get back on his horse. Khoon-gyah obediently knelt down, once again to let his master onto his back, and continued on, seeming to remember they had gone this way before.

  Now Chayton could no longer hear the group he had been following. He wasn’t sure how far he had fallen behind. All he knew was that he had to make it to the ranch. He wasn’t sure he could last that long, though.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Callie could hear the whistles and calls of the cowboys, in the distance, prodding the cattle on, long before they even got close. The dust, rising to announce their approach, accompanied the typical noise the drovers used to encourage the cattle to go in a certain direction. When they finally approached where Callie and Cooper were waiting for them, a couple of the drovers rode up. It was Randy and Buster.

  “We got them cattle back, and plugged every one of them Injuns, ta boot,” Buster said proudly.

  Callie’s face fell. “Did you kill them all?” she asked, as she involuntarily started to shake inside.

  “Sure did!” Randy added. “They were purtty dern fast, and could ride like the dickens, but I’m purtty sure we got most of them. They’ll think twice before they ever try ta raid any more of the ranches in these parts!”

  Callie glanced down at Chayton’s son. If Chayton was dead, it meant she would have to raise the poor orphan.

  “No use sittin’ around,” Buster stated. “We need ta get these cattle ta market, and the other ranchers are anxious ta head home, so they can herd their cattle ta market the same.”

  “We brought your husband’s horses back, along with the cattle,” Sam said as he rode up to the others. “Can all the children ride?”

  “Connor and Ina can, but you will have to put Tommy and Beth up in front of one of the men,” Callie told him. “I just don’t know what I am going to do about the babies. I carried my daughter in a sling, and Chayton carried his son in a cradleboard on his back.”

  “We’ll get one of the ranchers to carry the little papoose,” Cooper suggested and whistled for one of the men to come join them.

  A man on a big black horse approached them.

  “This is Mr. Pritchard. He owns the ranch west of you.”

  He looked up at Mr. Pritchard, who looked to be in his forties, with a leathered face, and graying hair. Mr. Pritchard gave a nod to Cooper.

  “You think you can help carry one of the babies? Callie here was left with one of those heathen’s infant son. She can’t very well tote him along with her own child.”

  Mr. Pritchard nodded, but he didn’t look very happy about being involved with an Indian child.

  “If there was a way to do it, this child should be given back to the Indians,” he muttered.

  “Well, since you killed his father, I don’t think that is a possibility now,” Callie almost growled. “You should have just let them go, and taken the cattle. Chet shot at them first. They had no intentions of killing anyone.”

  “They would have been back raiding again unless they were put in their place. Those heathens will stop at nothing. They think they own the whole damn place. Pardon my language, Miss, but if we hadn’t killed them, they would have come back with more of their kind, and done much worse.”

  “I’ll put Chayton’s baby in the cradleboard,” Callie said quietly.

  She didn’t want to think about Chayton getting killed, along with the rest of the braves, who had treated her and the children fairly.

  Mr. Pritchard swung down from his horse, and Callie adjusted the cradleboard on his back, after placing little Tsahle-ee Jogul in it. The baby looked frightened, but Callie hoped he was too young to be frightened of white people. He was going to end up living with them, for no telling how long.

  Callie lifted P’ee-shan up and put her in her own sling, and then Cooper helped her up on Blaze’s back. Connor got on his horse; Ina was given another horse, since the Indian pony, she had been riding was no longer with the herd. It probably was heading back with the other Indian ponies that had been ridden by the band, before the drovers had shot them all down.

  “I’ll head out with the cattle, and leave you in Mr. Pritchard’s care,” Cooper told Callie. “It should take us several weeks before we can get back to the ran
ch, but I’m certain Mr. Pritchard can send one of his men over to check on you from time to time until we return.”

  “I would be glad to,” Mr. Pritchard agreed.

  “I am sure I will be fine. Even if more Indians show up, I will just return Tsahle-ee Jogul to them. I’m positive they won’t harm me.”

  “You are a mighty trusting woman, but I fear a little naïve. They would either rape and kill you, and then take the child, or take you with them to use as they please, on their way back to their tribe. If that Indian needed you to feed his son, it’s a sure thing they would expect you to accompany them for the same reason,” Cooper informed her.

  Callie thought he may be right.

  “However, Chayton’s people have moved farther up in the hills. They don’t even know about Chayton’s son or the fact his wife was killed by the Osage. They certainly don’t know about me, or that I have the child. I doubt they will come looking for me or Chayton’s son.”

  “Unless one of those heathens got away, then he would tell them where to find you,” Cooper pointed out. “Maybe one of Pritchard’s men should remain at the ranch with you.”

  “There is no place for him to stay. We only have two small bedrooms. You said yourself there is no bunkhouse for you to stay in, but I am sure I will be fine because Chayton said his tribe was quite a ways off, and he didn’t even know where their new camp was. Therefore, you will probably return before any Indians come looking for Chayton’s son if they actually bother looking for him.”

  “Let’s just hope you are right,” Cooper said.

  He touched the brim of his battered hat and then turned his horse, heading up the rise to where the others were waiting for him. Once he approached, he joined in herding the cattle, only looking over his shoulder briefly, at Callie, before kicking his horse into a gallop.

  Mr. Pritchard and about ten other men headed out in the direction of Chet’s ranch. Callie felt torn between relief that she did not have to end up in an Indian village and sadness at the thought of Chayton being shot down when she didn’t believe he deserved to die. His band had almost done her a favor by making her a widow, even though she felt guilty, for actually wanting Chet dead.

  Facing the thought of having to spend the rest of her life with Chet was nearly worse than being taken by Indians. Now she was free of both of those worries, only without Cooper’s help, being on her own would have been a daunting challenge.

  Connor rode close beside her, and the milk cow was also following behind, after Ted had fished it out of the herd and brought it over to Callie, with the rest of Chet’s horses, before they all went their separate ways.

  Connor looked happy to be returning to the ranch.

  “Are you sure there is money buried out behind the house?” Callie asked him, as they rode side by side.

  “I’ll show you when we get home,” he told her. “Only now that we got the herd back, we won’t have to buy more cattle with it,” he pointed out.

  “I know, but I was thinking about that house your father promised to build for your mother. I wonder if there is enough money in that can to start building a house. I hate that little log cabin we are living in now. Wouldn’t you like a new big house, where you could have your own bedroom, and not have to share with your sisters?”

  “I wouldn’t mind that,” Connor smiled. “Mama always talked about that house, papa never built for her. It used to be fun listening to all the things she said she was going to have in that house once it was built. Papa even got the plans, and mama would go over it, showing me where all the rooms were.”

  He paused for a moment, looking wistful, glancing over at Callie as though he wanted to say more, but had decided not to.

  “You will have to show me where those plans are, and tell me everything she wished for. I will make it a point to try to build it, exactly the way she wanted it to be,” Callie promised.

  She just wondered if there really was enough money hidden away, to build the kind of house Rolletta had dreamed of? If not, she vowed to scrimp and save until she could build that big, beautiful house, which Rolletta had deserved, for giving Chet children, even if they weren’t all boys.

  The group stopped as often as Callie insisted, so she could feed the babies. They had brought biscuits and cheese, apples, smoked ham, dried fruit, and hard candy, with them to eat along the way, since they had not planned to stop and camp. Now, Callie was anxious to get back to the ranch, but by the end of the day, she was tired, and the men seemed just as tired since they had ridden non-stop, in order to overtake the Indians.

  Bringing the cattle with them had slowed the Indians down, and Callie thought they had taken a big risk in doing so. Wouldn’t they have expected someone to come after them? Maybe they thought no one would discover it until they were safe in Indian territory, where their friends could help defend them against anyone who came after the cattle.

  She thought about how Chayton had kissed her in the river, and then during the night before. She had been shocked at how, passionately he had kissed her, just before he left her and the children. She marveled at how it had shaken her in a way, she couldn’t explain. She could not get the memory of that kiss out of her head.

  The group stopped to camp for the night. They took the pack rolls off of the back of their saddles, and one of the men gave his pack roll to Callie to use, while Mr. Pritchard returned Chayton’s son to her.

  Callie lay on the pack roll, watching the men build a fire, and then one of the men pulled out his harmonica and began playing, while the others sang words to the tune, he was playing. The children seemed mesmerized by the music and tried to learn the words, so they could sing along. Callie thought the music sounded mournful, in a strange, unexplainable way, and she knew whenever she heard the songs they were singing, in the future, it would remind her of that night. She hugged the babies to her, as she fell asleep to the sound of the music in her ears.

  By morning, they were all ready to leave at first light, and Callie did not complain. She would be happy to return to the ranch, even though she had hated that ranch so much. Now she had a whole new future to look forward to, and thoughts about the house she promised Connor she would build, filled her head. She would not have to remain in that little ranch house, which only brought back unpleasant memories of the times she spent there with Chet; she promised herself.

  When the group finally reached Chet’s ranch, Callie felt a little hesitant, remembering her last moments she spent there, with Chet lying dead in the yard, while she suffered having his baby. Only then, thoughts of Chayton came to her, and how gentle he had treated her, during the birth of her daughter. She could still see those piercing dark eyes he had gazed down at her with. She would never see those eyes again; she thought sadly. Whenever she looked at Chayton’s son, it seemed to be Chayton’s eyes that she saw staring back at her.

  “Are you sure you will be all right, staying here alone?” Mr. Pritchard asked her, as one of his men helped her down from her horse.

  Mr. Pritchard then, handed the man Chayton’s son, to give to Callie.

  “Yes, I will do fine,” Callie murmured, as the cowhand placed the cradleboard on her back. “Connor is a big help, and even Ina always pulls her own weight. Cooper should be returning soon enough; and until then, we will just have to make do.”

  “I’ll have one of my men put your horses and cow away. You look tuckered out.”

  “I am rather tired. I only gave birth a short week ago; and the moment my child was born, I was whisked away by the Indians.”

  “I’m sorry you had to go through all that, but your baby looks healthy, and I am sure you will get your strength back, once you get some rest.”

  “Yes. I am sure I will. I want to thank you and your friends for all you have done for me and my family. If you ever need my help…”

  “Don’t even mention it. We ranchers have to stick together. When anything like this happens to one of us, it is as though it has happened to all of us. I’ll send someone o
ver in a day or so to check up on you, in case you may need something.”

  “You are very kind, Mr. Pritchard. I appreciate it.”

  Mr. Pritchard gave Callie a weary smile, and she watched him, and the men with him, head down the drive, and then out to the road that led away from Chet’s ranch. She had to stop thinking of the ranch as belonging to Chet, she told herself. It now belonged to her.

  Connor took a hold of Callie’s free hand, while she placed her other hand on her baby in the sling, and led her out to where Chet had been buried. His sisters followed.

  “I know he had his bad moments,” Connor said, “and I know you did not like him much. He wanted us to have a good ranch, though. He always talked about when we got bigger and could take part in making this the most successful ranch around. Do you think we can still do that?”

  Connor looked up into Callie’s eyes with a pleading expression on his face.

  “I’m not sure I know enough to make it successful,” she admitted.

  “I can teach you. Papa told me everything about running a ranch because he said I would be taking over someday.”

  Connor seemed much older than his almost eleven years, Callie thought. Perhaps Chet had not played with his children or treated them with much affection, but at least he taught them how to become sufficient, once they grew up, she admitted. Connor was going to be a big help to her, she realized.

  “Then I will put you, mostly in charge,” Callie told Connor, with a smile. “Go pick some wildflowers to put on your father’s grave. I’m going in to feed the babies and put them down to sleep. Then, you can show me where that can was buried.”

  Connor gave Callie a big grin, happily taking his younger sister’s hands, and heading out to the meadow where the wildflowers were running riot.

  Callie turned to the house, and slowly pushed the door open. The room had been ransacked by the Indians, as they had looked for things they wanted. They had not considered her welfare, she had to admit. It had all been about getting what they needed. She was something they needed, and so they took her too. Maybe they thought they needed the children as well since Cooper claimed they would be turned into little Indians, once they reached the village. Her only problem was; she could not forget the way Chayton had kissed her, or the way she had felt when they were in the river together. It had been the first time she actually savored a kiss. She had hated it when Chet bothered to kiss her. Now she would never feel that strange excitement inside again, which had been created by Chayton’s kisses.