Unconquerable Callie Read Free Page A

growing on the prairie. Your horse or mule needs grain.”
    “True. But a horse or mule is faster. Can’t deny that. You pull that wagon by oxen and you can add days to the journey.”
    “Can’t dispute you there. But oxen don’t cost as much as a horse or mule. There’s two pair of good-looking oxen for sale by a guy named Whittiker. His wagon’s over west of the smithy’s. I’m told he’ll take forty dollars each pair.”
    “Whew. Forty dollars. They’re askin’ sixty to seventy dollars each for a mule. Horses go higher.”
    “And you get out on the prairie and them Indians come along, they don’t look twice at oxen. Now give them a look at a good horse or a pair of mules, and they’re right desirable.”
    “Couldn’t agree more.”
    “Oxen got a temperament lot like a horse. Mules, they’re contrary animals.”
    “Yep.”
    “Now a horse or a mule got them a tendency to run off. Oxen stay right around camp. And there’s no disputing they’re the strongest of the three. Don’t have to buy no expensive harness either. Onliest thing they need is an ox yoke, bows, and chain.”
    “True. But you can’t argue oxen don’t do well in hot weather. Now a horse and mule, they tolerate heat.”
    “Mmmm, but what about traction? Horse and mule’s poor in sand and mud.”
    Both men then wandered outside to carry on the debate. It was enough, though. Callie wanted oxen to pull her wagon and she knew just where to buy them. Now all she needed was to find the smithy’s.
    After several sets of directions, Callie was totally confused until she finally heard the ring of hammer on metal and knew she was near.
    It wouldn’t do for her to walk into this male domain and brazenly ask about the location of the wagon with oxen for sale. She chewed at her bottom lip and ran several implausible lies through her mind. None would do. As she rounded the corner, she saw and heard several men talking to each other.
    A very large man stood off to one side, legs spread, his body glistening with sweat. He held a hammer in one hand and brought it down soundly against a red glowing horseshoe lying on the anvil. He tap, tapped at the horseshoe, each blow ringing out a high-pitched melody. He raised the horseshoe up with a steel fork, scrutinized it, then, turning, thrust it into a brazier of glowing embers.
    Even from a distance, Callie was sure she could feel the heat riding toward her on waves of air.
    The man’s massive arms were bare as was most of his chest, which was partially covered by a short, black, leather vest. His pants sported a rope for a belt. He grabbed the handle of the large billows aimed at the brazier of coals, and, pumping it several times, sent a glow that, like magic, transformed the embers from dull red to icy white shards of heat. Again he lifted and scrutinized the horseshoe. He carried it, the ends as white-hot as the embers from whence it sprung, back to the anvil. He seemed oblivious to the voices carrying around him; his eyes and ears focused on the bent piece of steel and the ring of each blow. Every now and then, he’d rub his dripping forehead against his shoulder while never breaking rhythm with his dance of steel.
    She watched him, entranced, her mission momentarily forgotten when she felt a tug on her sleeve.
    “Miss Collins, Ma’am.”
    “Why, Caleb. Caleb Monroe.” She smiled warmly at him.
    “How-de-do, Ma’am. Do you recollect we met a few days ago in the hotel dining room?”
    “Yes, I do recall our meeting. I recall it very well. How are your mother and father?”
    “They’re fine, Ma’am. Well, not really fine, that’d be a stretch, I guess. Truth to tell, they’re pretty low.”
    “Low?”
    “Yes’m.” The boy shifted from one foot to another, never lifting his eyes. He swallowed hard and his Adam’s apple jumped up his thin neck. “They ain’t havin’ no luck selling what little they can spare. Don’t look too promisin’ for us to get to go West this year. Dad’s