A Reckoning on the Oregon Trail (Preview)

Prologue

Independence, Missouri

July 27, 1866

Cal Brooker stepped off the riverboat onto the shore and took a deep breath. It wasn’t quite a sigh of relief. Not yet. Relief wouldn’t come until the river vanished over the horizon behind him.

But it was a start.

The wagon train wouldn’t meet until the morning, so Cal made his way to the Misery Saloon. He assumed the name was a play on words since it was near the shore of the Missouri River, but the name seemed appropriate. Cal certainly had endured his share of misery. 

This would be his third time in the saloon and his fifth time in Independence. He’d been here twice during the war and three times during the past year when his job as an engine man on the Daisy Lee brought him this way. He had just disembarked from the Daisy Lee for the last time.

Independence wasn’t exactly a small town, but it was far from a big city. It had once been prosperous and fast-growing, but the war had devastated the area, leaving it a shadow of its former self.

So Misery fit the bill just fine.

Cal walked into the building and endured the typical stares from the local crowd. He recognized a couple of old-timers from his previous forays into the city, but if they recognized him, they didn’t show it. That was typical. Locals along both rivers—the Missouri and the Mississippi—generally tolerated outsiders, but that was as far as it went. They were strangers, not friends.

That was fine with Cal. He wasn’t looking to make friends, not here or on the wagon train. It would be better for him and all concerned if they simply tolerated each other, just as these locals tolerated the tall, rough-looking young man who sat at the bar and ordered a double of whatever the bartender’s pleasure was.

“Rye? Whiskey?” The bartender’s lips curled up in a conspiratorial smile. “Moonshine?”

“Whiskey is fine,” Cal replied.

Anything would have been fine, but Cal didn’t want to risk further conversation.

The bartender shrugged. “Sure thing, but you’re missing out. The corn ’shine we just got in is the sweetest I’ve ever had.” His brow furrowed. “You ain’t the law, are you?” Cal met his eyes, and after a moment, the bartender chuckled. “No, you ain’t the law. You got the look of someone on the other side. Tell you what. I’ll bring you your whiskey, and then a shot of the ’shine on me.”

“Much obliged.”

The bartender was unusually talkative. That could mean nothing, or it could mean he was probing Cal for information. That could mean nothing.

Or it could mean Jack had gotten here before Cal did.

Cal stifled a shiver and resisted the urge to look around. Instead, he let his eyes flick to the mirror behind the bar. No one sitting at the other tables paid him any attention. He was a stranger, and not a particularly interesting one. Just a riverman enjoying a drink before starting the return journey south to New Orleans.

Cal would never see New Orleans again. It was a shame. He’d liked that town. He’d spent enough time there that he wasn’t quite a stranger, and since he’d thrown away his uniform the day the Army cut him loose, no one fingered him as a Yankee soldier.

And he had enjoyed his time in New Orleans. The food was wonderful, the culture was intriguing, and the nightlife was second to none.

Of course, it was that very nightlife that had gotten him into trouble. Like most young men, especially those who had just survived the most hellish four years of the young nation’s history, Cal had indulged far too much in the vices offered by the city. The moonshine there was just as plentiful as the moonshine here, and even more intoxicating. And the women… well, Cal wasn’t proud of it, but the women of New Orleans were free and wild and willing, and he had partaken of all three of those traits many times with many different women.

In short, he was a fool.

“Here you go, sir. Say, I never caught your name.”

Cal met the bartender’s eyes and judged the likelihood the man was lying. He saw only curiosity in the man’s gaze. “Cal.”

“Cal. That short for Calvin?”

“Just Cal.”

“Huh. Lester.”

Lester stuck his hand out, and Cal shook it briefly.

“Let me know what you think of that ’shine,” the bartender said. “Best liquor this side of the mountains.”

He left Cal to his drinks, and Cal tried the moonshine. It was harsh and bright, but when he swallowed it, it was warm and sweet as a maiden’s kiss. If he were in a better mood, he might have ordered another.

But he’d had enough of drunkenness. He’d had enough of maidens. He’d gotten himself into real trouble over a woman, and if he never saw another, it would be too soon.

He couldn’t stifle the shiver that came when he remembered Holt Kennedy kicking down the door of the room. The girl—Cal didn’t even remember her name—leaped to her feet and insisted, “It’s not what it looks like, Holt! It’s just for money!”

Holt, of course, didn’t care why the woman he considered his was in the arms of another man. He only cared for revenge.

Cal had seen the gun, and everything after that was a blur. He remembered reaching for his own gun, remembered the smoke as Holt fired and missed, the blood as Cal fired and didn’t. The next thing he was aware of, the girl was on the ground with Holt’s head cradled in her lap, screaming, “Wake up! Baby, wake up!”

Cal had been a fool, but he was smart enough to know his time in New Orleans was done. He’d gotten his things and slept aboard the Daisy Lee that night.

In the morning, one of the other enginemen had told Cal that Jack Kennedy was looking for him. And he had murder on his mind.

 

Chapter One

“What did you say your name was, baby?”

Cal grinned at the girl standing above him. “I’m told my parents named me Cal, but you can call me whatever you want.”

She threw her head back to laugh, and Cal’s eyes followed the curve of her neck down to her breasts. The slightest peek of cleavage was visible above the low cut of her dress, and Cal’s heartbeat quickened at the hint of what was underneath.

“Well, I’m already calling you ‘baby,’” she said. “What else should I call you?”

Cal’s grin grew mischievous. “Lover sounds nice.”

She arched her eyebrow. “Now that’s some big talk for a man who ain’t even bought me a drink yet.”

Cal gestured to the seat next to him and called for the bartender. “Two whiskeys over here, please.”

The bartender gave him a long-suffering look and Cal chuckled again. The poor man had seen at least a dozen girls sitting where this one was. But if they wanted what Cal had to offer, who was he to refuse them?

“So what do you do for work, Cal?”

“Aww, what happened to ‘lover’?”

She gave him a coy look. “We’ll see.”

He shrugged. “Fair enough. I, my fair lady, am an adventurer.”

She lifted an eyebrow. “An adventurer. Hmm. Let me guess. You adventure up and down the river searching for paying passengers and mail to ship through the treacherous waters of unexplored Louisiana, Mississippi, and Missouri.”

He smote his breast. “Alas, you’ve caught me. It’s true that at the moment, I am a lowly engineman on a lowly riverboat. I don’t call the river lowly because I would never disrespect a lady that way.”

She laughed and tilted her head. Cal tried not to make it obvious that he was trying to get a better look at what her dress hid. “You certainly have a way with words.”

“I certainly do,” he agreed, his eyes firmly fixed on the soft, sweet mounds that had weakened the hearts of so many men. “And I have big plans, far bigger than any river could satisfy.”

“Hmm… too big for love?”

Cal met her eyes and said earnestly, “Darling, there is nothing on earth too big for love.”

She looked him up and down, and the flush that came to her cheeks told Cal he had won.

 *** 

Cal opened his eyes. The room was still dark, but soft gray light filtered through the curtained window. Dawn would arrive soon.

He rolled out of bed and changed out of his pajamas. The wagon train was set to meet an hour after dawn, so he had a long while before he needed to leave the saloon. But he would get no more sleep, and staying in a quiet, dark room alone with his thoughts didn’t appeal to him in the slightest, so he gathered his things and crept quietly down the stairs and outside.

Independence, like all riverfront towns, never fully slept. Lights remained on in front porches and old men talked quietly of the weather, the river traffic, and better days. Younger men stumbled drunkenly, kicked out of their beds by the soiled doves who had entertained them or else drifting in the fog of whiskey that carried them from night to daylight.

They paid Cal no mind. He was only another traveler, here to forget about the world for a moment before moving on.

With nowhere to go, he allowed his steps to carry him to the river. He stepped onto the dock and looked at the Daisy Lee. He couldn’t say he loved the boat, but it had been his home for the past year, and a part of him felt a little nostalgic about leaving her behind.

“We had a good run, Daisy old girl,” he said. “I hate to leave you behind, but it’s time I moved on.”

The boat bobbed serenely in the water, unperturbed by the departure of one of its crew. Cal tipped his hat to her and headed inland.

The wagon party was gathered outside of the city. Wagons ranging in size from giant Conestogas to smaller buckboards and even a few fancy coaches sat parked in haphazard clusters. Cal guessed there were over a hundred of them. That was good. It was easier to remain anonymous in a crowd. He’d have to share something of his background, but he could fabricate a story to cover the parts he wanted to hide. If he kept to himself and didn’t get involved with others, then he could avoid trouble.

The animals rested near their wagons. Horses, mostly, but some of the larger wagons had oxen.

Damn it, a horse! He’d forgotten about buying a horse. Working on the river, he hadn’t needed one, and it hadn’t occurred to him that having an animal might be a good idea if he was traveling thousands of miles overland.

He cursed softly. That wasn’t good. That meant he’d have to hitch a ride with someone, which meant he’d have to make friends, which meant it would be harder to keep out of others’ business.

Well, that was all right. The whole point of moving on was to reinvent himself. He could become someone new. He didn’t have to be Cal Brooker. He could be whoever he wanted to be.

Still, it wasn’t a good omen to start off as Cal Newman, freeloader. He sighed and shook his head. He’d have to figure out a way to work to earn his keep. Or maybe someone in town could sell him a horse before the train left. It wasn’t the way he wanted to spend his money, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.

The more he dwelled on that idea, though, the more it appealed to him. The money he had wasn’t stolen money but it was mostly ill-gotten, earned through gambling, a skill Cal had picked up at a young age. If he spent it on a horse and some supplies, then it would be like starting over for real. Nothing of the old Cal left to carry with him.

He nodded. That was what he’d do. Surely if he sweetened the deal enough, he could convince someone to sell him what he needed.

With that resolved, he found a spot atop a small hill and waited for the sunrise. It dawned warm and bright, and Cal closed his eyes and allowed the sun’s warmth to soothe the fears that plagued him. Soon, he would be gone. His past would be behind him. Jack would be behind him.

He would be all right.

“Hello there,” a soft voice said to his left.

He turned to see the most beautiful creature that had ever walked the face of the earth. Her curly blonde hair hung in ringlets that framed a slightly freckled face. Eyes the color of the summer sky gazed at him above soft lips that curled in a smile as she regarded him.

She was an angel, and Cal was in love.

“I’m Etta,” the creature said. “What’s your name?”

Cal pulled himself back down to Earth and said, “I’m Cal.”

“Is that short for Calvin?”

He smiled. It was a common question. “Just Cal.”

“Just Cal,” she repeated. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, just Cal. Are you part of the wagon party?”

“I am.”

“Where’s your wagon?”

He reddened slightly. “It’s, uh, it’s being fixed up right now. Axle broke.”

And there was his first lie. Shame he’d spent it on such a foolish one.

Etta nodded sympathetically. “I understand that. Will it be ready in time to leave?”

“I sure hope so,” he replied. That, at least, wasn’t a lie.

She smiled. “Well, you might have a little more time. I overheard Josiah say we’re not leaving until the weather breaks. He’s worried these clouds will turn into rain.”

Cal looked at the light gray covering above. These clouds wouldn’t turn into rain, but it would be better for him if people believed it would. “We’ll be on our way soon enough, I’m sure.”

“I hope so. Say, where’s your family?”

Cal blinked. “My family?”

“Yes. I assume you’re traveling with your family.”

“Oh. Oh! Yes, um… no, it’s just me.”

Etta’s eyes widened. “Just you?”

“Etta,” a male voice interrupted, “come on. Josiah’s meeting with all of us in front of the wagons.”

Cal’s eyes shifted to a tall, rugged-looking man a few years older than him. The man’s blonde hair and blue eyes gave him away as Etta’s older brother. A pretty, dark-haired girl stood next to him, probably his wife.

Etta’s brother caught sight of Cal and smiled. “Hello. Who’s your friend, Etta?”

“This is Cal,” Etta replied. “He’s going to be joining us.”

Her brother took Cal’s hand in a firm grip. “Daniel Foreman. This is my wife, Amy.”

Amy smiled at Cal and gave a little curtsey.

“Pleased to meet you,” Cal replied.

“Well,” Daniel said. “We’ll go see what Josiah has to say, but we’ll have to get to know you better, Cal. Good to meet you.”

“Why don’t you walk with us to the meeting?” Etta suggested. “It’s not far. Just to the top of that hill.”

So much for not getting involved with people, he thought. Then he looked at Etta’s crystal-clear eyes and forgot all about his resolution to stay by himself. “Sure. I’d like that.”

The group proceeded up the hill where several dozen people were already gathered. “Do you know how many people are coming?” Cal asked.

“Several hundred,” Daniel replied. “I don’t know the exact number, but Josiah said there’s over a hundred wagons. Figure at least three people per wagon, probably more in a lot of them. I’d say at least five hundred, if not more.”

“And we’re all traveling together?”

“More or less. Josiah’s planning to split us up into groups of fifteen wagons. We’ll leave an hour apart. That way we’re far enough apart that it’s not too cumbersome and close enough we can help if we need to.”

“All right, everyone!” a thunderous voice called.

Cal looked ahead and saw a heavily bearded man of around fifty climb a boulder and lift his hands for attention. That must be Josiah.

“Okay, folks!” he called. “Today’s, er, hopefully the day!” There were a few chuckles and Josiah grinned sheepishly. “We’re going to wait and see how these clouds behave, but the locals tell me these things usually come and go within a day or two, so there shouldn’t be much of a delay. Use that time to stock up on any last-minute supplies you need.”

Like a horse and wagon? Cal thought drily.

“Now, we have a long journey ahead of us, so I want to go over a couple of basic rules before we go. Nothing too crazy. It’s a free country, after all, and I most definitely do not want to be president.”

More polite chuckles. Cal didn’t get the joke, but he laughed along with the other three.

“Rule number one, no fighting. This is the most important rule. This ain’t going to be an easy journey, and we’re going to be under a lot of pressure trying to keep our families healthy and happy while we make our way to Oregon. That pressure tends to boil over, especially among us menfolk, and some of us might want to let loose a little steam, but this ain’t the time to do it. We’re all here for the same reason, and we’re all making the same journey. If you have a dispute, please take it to the leader of your wagon party. If there’s anything they can’t resolve, they can bring it to me. But no fighting. Are we all in agreement on that?”

The crowd murmured their agreement, and Josiah continued. “Excellent. Rule number two: we help our fellow travelers. No ifs, ands, or buts. We’re all going to Oregon, and by God, we will all make it there. If you see a friend in need, be the friend who can meet that need. You never know. It could be you who needs help next. I trust we’re all agreed to that as well?”

The crowd gave their approval again, and Josiah said, “Excellent. Rule three isn’t really a rule so much as common sense. There’s always at least two people keeping watch at night. We’re a large wagon train, and even spread out, we should be more than enough to handle any threats that come our way—but that doesn’t mean we can afford to keep our eyes closed. Keep watch for your wagon party and be prepared to help the other groups if you need to. Sound good?”

After a final murmur of assent, Josiah said, “Wonderful. That’s all I really have for you. Your wagon party leaders might have some more, but I’ll let them cover that. I guess rule number four would be to please respect your wagon party’s leader. We all chose them for a reason, so let’s keep that in mind, and also keep in mind that they’re only here to help us. Okay, that’s really all I have for you.”

He stepped down from the boulder, and the group started to disperse. Etta smiled at him and asked, “Which group are you with, Cal?”

Cal blinked. “Oh. Um… I guess I don’t know.”

Daniel lifted an eyebrow. “You didn’t get assigned a group yesterday?”

Cal shook his head. “I wasn’t here yesterday. I thought we were meeting today.”

“Oh. Well, that’s all right. You can join ours. One more wagon won’t hurt. Where’d you park?”

“Oh, um, my wagon’s being repaired. It’s got a broke axle.”

Daniel grimaced. “Ouch. Better that happens now than on the trail, I guess. Make sure you take some spare parts with you. Looks like we’ll have clouds for a while, so you’ll have time to pick some stuff up. In fact, why don’t you do that now? The group’s having a little meeting, but we’re the third group to leave, so I’ll have time to catch you up on anything important and introduce you to the others.” He extended his hand. “Good to meet you, Cal. I look forward to riding with you.”

Cal took his hand and smiled. “I look forward to riding with you.”

He shook Amy’s hand and then Etta’s. When Etta’s fingers closed around his, he felt hot and cold all over at the same time.

Careful, he told himself. You’re supposed to keep your distance.

But when Etta smiled and said, “I’m happy to have met you, Cal,” he knew it was too late.