Caleb Page 4

  The dust cloud stretched for miles and filled all the cowboys’ lungs. It caked their skin and hair. It filled their mouths and ears. Nothing was spared. Not even the food. It found its way into the meat, beans, and flour. Everything tasted like dirt. Even the coffee had a dusty film on it.

  The inside of his mouth was dry, and he felt the dirt caking to his face. His skin was already red from the sun. Hard to believe that it had been over two months since leaving San Angelo. He was thankful for the extra horses. Riding in the desert was hard on the horses and men alike. At least the cowboys could rotate through the new horses to give the ranch horses a break.

  He opened his canteen and lowered the bandana to take a sip of water. A trickle came out. He shook the canteen and felt the few drops hit his sun-parched skin.

  The herd moved in an almost straight line across the trail. To the left were tall mountains of sand and dirt. That is what was covering them. To the right were scraggly bushes and succulents.

  The cowboys had eaten breakfast before the sun was up and then they moved the herd out. Cattle driving was not a fast-moving affair.

  Sometimes the cattle had a mind of their own and one would go crazy and try to escape. That would be the one that would normally land on the dinner plate that evening.

  Tot had ridden ahead with Jimmy, the scout. Once the breakfast was done, Tot would wash the dishes and wrap up the cast iron oven he scoured with sand in a burlap sack. Then he’d race ahead to find a spot to stop for the noon meal. He’d then repeat the process again for dinner.

  Jimmy would ride ahead, looking for hostiles, outlaws and most importantly water. Once he found at least one, he would return to the chuckwagon to relay the information to Caleb.

  As a rule, Tot was about five to seven miles ahead of the herd. The other wagons followed. The only wagon that stayed close to the herd was the wagon containing ammunition, medical supplies, and an extra water barrel.

  Tot drove the main wagon filled with most of the food supplies. He hired a man and the man’s wife and two sons to drive the other three wagons. They were looking for passage further north for their family, so it helped everyone.

  Caleb left the herd in the hands of a wrangler from San Angelo and rode ahead to see if there was any news from Jimmy. Once they would arrive in a town, they should be able to replenish their supplies and Caleb wanted to send a message back home.

  They were able to fill their empty barrels at Trinidad, Colorado, but that was over a week ago. They were getting down to the bottom now. Caleb thought Tot may have one full barrel left, but he was going to need that for cooking. Men without coffee were not the most agreeable in the morning.

  The three wagons were pulled into a semi-circle so if anyone attacked, the cowboys had at least some protection. The fourth was keeping pace with the herd.

  Tot picked a good spot. There were a few scraggly trees that provided a bit of shade and clumps of grass that the herd would either eat or where they would rest.

  Caleb waved to Hank and Rosalie Livingstone and their two sons as he passed. They were stringing up the canvas from the chuckwagon to create shade for the cowboys once they arrived.

  Tot was sitting on the seat of his wagon. Caleb tugged on Blaze’s reins, pulling the horse alongside the wagon. The lowing of the oxen softly filled the air. They were even complaining of the heat and dust.

  Caleb saw Tot shift on the seat and raise his hand in greeting. He had a pup on his lap and was stroking the sleeping dog’s head. The other four were asleep under the wagon. At least they had the good sense to find a cool spot.

  “You doing alright?” Caleb asked, his voice muffled behind the bandana.

  “Can’t complain,” Tot said slowly. “Even if I do, no one listens.” He gave a little laugh. “These guys are going to wake up soon and I need to get out of the wagon.” Tot nudged the pup on his lap. The dog stretched and yawned before rolling over and falling onto the footboard beneath the wagon bench.

  Tot handed the puppy to Caleb and scrambled down from the wagon. Caleb scratched behind the pup’s ears before placing it on the ground. The pup yawned, scampering over to its litter mates and pushed its way into the middle of the pile.

  It was hard to believe how quickly the pups had grown. Caleb was right in his thinking. The pups raised the spirits of everyone on the cattle drive. He hadn’t named any of them yet. Normally Alice named all the animals on the ranch.

  He thought about his sister. She will be delighted when she sees the puppies, he thought. Although they won’t be small by the time everyone arrived back home to Flat River.

  Alice grew up as a very carefree child, but when she was eighteen, she was kidnapped and taken to San Francisco. No one knew exactly what happened to her. Caleb had his thoughts, but he would never disrespect his sister by vocalizing them.

  The scratching in his throat made him remember why he had ridden up to see Tot. Caleb lifted his bandana and tried to spit, but even that little bit of moisture evaporated before it hit the ground.

  Caleb pulled out his pocket watch. Ten o’clock. He was surprised it was still running with the amount of dirt coating the mechanism.

  “How are we making out with water?” Caleb croaked.

  “We got three barrels left,” Tot replied. More than Caleb thought. “Enough to fill the canteens now and then again later, but that will be all we have until we can find water. Where’s the next water stop?”

  “Not sure.” Caleb lifted his canteen, and then remembering it was empty dropped it back to his side. “Any sight of Jimmy?” Jimmy was their scout, he traveled ahead to see where they could stop along the way and to see where water might be available.

  “No. Not yet. He should be back soon though.” Tot pushed his hat back. His face was reddened by the sun, but there was a white stripe of skin where his hat rested. “The herd almost here?”

  “Should be along shortly. I just rode ahead. I’ll head back and let them know.”

  Caleb turned Blaze around and headed back towards the herd. What was a ten-minute ride by horse, would be an hour for the herd; cattle did not move quickly.

  When the cattle drive left San Angelo, the wagons went first. The large sea of beasts moved slowly, no more than fifteen miles a day. The wagons always went at least five miles ahead and then waited for the herd to catch up.

  Before the animals were used to the lumbering pace, they were quite skittish and dangerous. The cowboys had to move quickly to avoid being gored by one of the longhorns curling above the cows’ heads. Even Trigger, the main herding dog had one or two near misses as she directed the herd. She’d nip the cow’s ankles and then nimbly jump back before one of the cows kicked her.

  But now, the herd had settled down and moved in a harmonized motion across the sandy soil of Colorado. They should be out of the dunes and back into green soil in a few days.

  Caleb did some quick math in his head. It should take approximately a week to reach Pueblo, Colorado and another ten weeks after that to reach Owl Canyon, twelve if they went around Denver and not through the mountains. From there, they would divert from the trail and head directly into Nebraska.

  Caleb would send a message from Pueblo to let his family know that he had made it. When they reached Owl Canyon, he’d send another telegram to let his father know that they were almost home. From Owl Canyon it would take at least eight days to get back to the ranch in Flat River. Per Caleb’s calculations, the team should arrive back home in Flat River by late September.

  Silently cursing himself for not filling his canteen, he dropped it again in disgust. The metal made a hallow sound as it slapped against his leg.

  He waved to Sawyer who was riding point. Sawyer had experience at a ranch that went out of business and he had been looking for a job. A little bit older than the other cowboys, Caleb could see that Sawyer knew exactly what he was doing with the herd.

  Caleb was going to see if Sawyer wanted to stay at the Chapman Ranch once they reached Nebraska. He could use
another good man.

  Caleb pulled on Blaze’s reins, bringing his horse to walking pace next to Sawyer. Even though Sawyer was on point, he was still covered in trail dust from head to toe. Normally the person on point managed to stay out of the large dust clouds that billowed from beneath the hooves. But not right now, it seemed.

  “Boss,” Sawyer said, pulling his canteen up to his lips, taking a sip of water. His blue eyes were bright against his dirty skin. “We stopping soon?”

  “Yes. Signal everyone. We’ve not seen Jimmy yet, but hopefully, he has found us shade and water further up.” Sawyer handed Caleb his canteen.

  “Need a drink?” he offered.

  “Thanks,” Caleb said taking the canteen and lifting it to his lips. The water was brackish and warm, but it cleared most of the dust from Caleb’s mouth. He handed the dented canteen back to the older cowboy.

  Sawyer took another sip and put the stopper back in the metal before lifting his fingers to his lips. He let out a long whistle followed by two short ones and two longer ones. That signaled to the men that they would be stopping shortly and to get prepared.

  You couldn’t stop a herd in one large group. It had to be done in waves. The first wave of cattle would pass the chuckwagon before stopping, so the last of the herd could move up closer. That way everyone had an opportunity to take a much-needed break.

  Caleb rode towards the men in the back. He could hear the whistles sounding down the line, signaling the men at the rear of the herd. Some of the cattle were starting to lose weight, their bones protruding from their skin. They needed water.

  Caleb sent a prayer up that soon they would reach the edge of the dunes. There should be water once they crossed the sandy soil. If they didn’t find water soon, then Caleb risked losing several of the herd. He didn’t want to lose a single head.

  They strolled along for about an hour when Sawyer let out a series of short, sharp whistles. He must have seen the wagons.

  The whistles went down the line from the swing riders to the wranglers and finally to the drag riders, who signaled back that they received the message.

  Caleb stood to the side to allow the men and beasts to pass. Soon the cattle at the front started to settle down.

  One by one, the exhausted longhorns dropped to their knees in the warm sand. The cloud of dust was starting to finally disappear.

  As the drag riders finally appeared, Caleb raised his hand to a young man named Tanner. He was a new cowboy, without any rank so he was stuck at the back of the herd. Tanner’s face was completely covered with his bandana. Caleb could see a small slit where Tanner’s eyes peeked out underneath his Stetson.

  “Go get something to eat, Tanner. And you,” he said pointing to the other two drag riders, “I got this.”

  Tanner used his bandana to wipe the sweat from his eyes. “Thanks, boss. Ten hours in the saddle and I don’t think I’m feeling my legs anymore.” The young man kicked his horse into a light gallop towards the chuckwagon. The other two drag riders followed.

  Caleb continued the pacing behind the herd until the last of the bovines settled in the sand. He would watch over the herd so his men could eat.

  When the herd rested, half of the men would go eat. After an hour, they would rotate so the second set of men could have a rest and a hot meal.

  A hungry and tired cowpoke was dangerous. He could make a mistake that may cost several in the herd, or even his own life.

  Caleb was always the last to eat, a habit he picked up from his father. Weston told him, “You make sure your boys eat first, son. Then you can eat at the end.” Caleb knew that Tot most likely had already hidden a plate of beans and biscuits on the wagon bench. He prayed that Tot remembered to hide it from the pups.

  As he watched the cowboys settle down in the shade of the wagons, or under the scrawny trees peppering the landscape, he reflected on just how much of a blessing his life was. Not even thirty, and he was driving his own herd of cattle from Texas to Nebraska. Not many folks could say that.

  He knew God would provide them everything they needed on the journey home. He wasn’t worried about water as God had never let him down before. Picking up his canteen, he silently chastised himself. It was still empty. Glancing across the sand, he looked to see if there was any source of water to be found.

  Spying a small succulent, about two feet tall in the sandy earth, he dismounted his horse and walked over to the plant and grabbed it by the base with his leather glove.

  He held the plant at the stem close to the ground as he didn’t want to disrupt the roots, nor be stuck by the long needle-like pins covering the plant.

  Hacking off a piece of the plant, he gently cut away the prickles. Liquid covered his gloved hand as he finished cutting away the tough outer layer of the plant, revealing a wet, fleshy substance underneath. Caleb popped the piece of plant in his mouth and allowed the moisture to coat his dry throat and parched lips.

  Savoring the sweet plant, he cut and peeled another piece offering it to Blaze. The horse pawed at the ground in disgust.

  “I know buddy, but this is all we got right now.”

  Blaze curled his lip and a long tongue reached out to test the blob on Caleb’s hand. The horse must have felt the moisture as he scooped the cactus pulp up and chewed. Caleb ran his hand down the muzzle of his horse. Blaze was the color of buckskin with black points on his legs and a white lightning bolt running between his eyes.

  Blaze was also quite fast when the occasion called for it.

  Caleb was about to cut another piece from the cactus when he heard shouting from the men around the chuckwagon. He jumped up and quickly mounted Blaze, hoping to see what was happening. He stood in the saddle and pulled out his spyglass.

  “Rider coming!”

  The call went throughout the cowhands and those that were sitting stood up to see who was coming. In the distance was a rider approaching the group at a furious pace.

  It looked like Jimmy’s horse, Jackal, but Caleb wasn’t sure given the dust cloud surrounding the horse.

  Caleb couldn’t tell if it was Jimmy riding the beast or not. The man wasn’t wearing a hat and he was holding his arm at a funny angle. Caleb reached in his scabbard and pulled out his rifle, resting the butt of it against his leg.

  He nudged Blaze forward, careful not to startle the slumbering cattle. When he approached the first set of cowboys, he paused. “Get on your horse and watch the herd from the back. Make sure you are armed. We don’t know who’s coming.”

  The young men scrambled, leaving their dishes on the edge of the wagon. They ran to their horses, and quickly mounted them, racing to protect the herd at the rear. Caleb rode up to where Tot and Sawyer were standing. Tot had his rifle drawn and was standing as if he was guarding the beans, not watching an intruder approach their camp.

  “It’s Jimmy!” one of the hands shouted.

  Caleb lifted his spyglass once more and Jimmy came into view. He could see Jimmy was leaning forward, clutching the saddle horn as he raced towards them. Caleb slid the spyglass into the holder draped over his shoulder.

  “Get the doc,” Caleb shouted. “Sawyer, come with me.” Caleb nudged Blaze towards Jimmy. They reached the scout within minutes. “Jimmy,” Caleb called as he reached down to grab Jimmy’s horse. Jimmy was slumped against his horse’s neck.

  The horse was lathered and breathing hard. Jimmy must have been running the animal for quite a distance for his horse to be covered in sweat and dirt.

  Jimmy’s shirt was torn at the shoulder and Caleb could see dried blood where the fabric was sticking against Jimmy’s skin. Caleb tugged on the reins, guiding the horse to the camp.

  “He’s been shot,” Caleb yelled to Sawyer.

  Sawyer rode back to the wagon. Caleb could hear him shouting for Doc as he rode. When Caleb arrived, several hands ran over to lower Jimmy to the ground.

  “Is he breathing?” Tot asked.

  Caleb slid to the ground and tossed his hat to the side. He kneeled nex
t to his friend and placed his head against Jimmy’s chest. “He’s breathing.” Caleb pushed back onto his heels. “Let’s get him in the wagon.”

  Caleb grabbed Jimmy underneath the arms, taking care not to put his hand against the wound. Two men grabbed Jimmy’s legs and they carried him to the wagon filled with medical supplies. A cowboy named Heath jumped into the bed and assisted Caleb in getting Jimmy into the back of the wagon.

  Doc wasn’t an actual doctor, but he had been a medic during the Civil War. He was the closest thing that they had to a medical professional. Caleb made room in the tiny area, sitting on the edge of the wagon, so Doc could climb in.

  After examining the wound, Doc looked at Caleb. “He’s been shot.”

  “I see that. Do you think it was Indians?”

  Doc shrugged and poked around Jimmy’s shoulder. “Can’t tell who fired it. Just that it was a revolver, not a rifle. Hand me those towels and find out who in the camp has whiskey. I need to clean the wound.”

  Caleb relayed the request to Tot, who appeared moments later with a bottle of amber liquid. “Medicinal purposes only,” Tot said, handing the bottle to Caleb. Caleb uncorked the bottle with his teeth and handed it to Doc.

  “You might want to hold him,” Doc said as he poured the alcohol on Jimmy’s wound. Jimmy screamed and sat up. Doc pushed him back to the wagon floor. “Lay still.”

  Jimmy gasped as Doc pulled the bullet from his shoulder. “Ambush,” he cried.

  “Ambush?” Caleb looked at his scout’s face. Jimmy was pale and Caleb could tell he lost a lot of blood. “Indians?” he asked.

  Indians were a threat, but there were fewer attacks on the Goodnight Loving Trail than the Chisholm Trail. Besides, the Indians in this area wouldn’t attack unless they were threatened.

  “No,” Jimmy croaked. His eyes started rolling into the back of his head.

  “Get me some water,” Caleb shouted. “Jimmy, listen to me.” He turned the wounded man’s chin until Jimmy was looking at him. “Listen to me. You are going to be alright. We are going to get you back home. Just hang in there.” He held a canteen to Jimmy’s lips and allowed the water to trickle into Jimmy’s mouth.