Callie closed her eyes in frustration. This was the worst possible way to handle the frightened child. “Pa, give me a few minutes—”
“Into the wagon now, or I swear to God, I’ll leave you both behind.”
Before she could stop him, Pa jerked Tommy from her arms, carried him screaming to the wagon, and dumped him roughly on the wagon seat. He uttered a curse. “No son of mine is going to be a coward. Come on, Callie, let’s go.”
Callie climbed onto the seat, shifting Tommy so she sat in the middle and he didn’t have to sit next to his father. She felt so powerless. All she could do was wrap an arm around the sobbing boy and hope for the best. “Hold tight, Tommy,” she whispered. “Keep your eyes closed until we get across. Everything’s going to be fine.”
Tommy squeezed his eyes closed tight. With a sharp crack of the whip, Pa urged the oxen into the river. As they rolled ever deeper into the current, Callie wanted to close her own eyes and not open them until they’d safely reached the other side. She resisted the temptation. For Tommy’s sake, she must look strong and confident, face the danger with her eyes wide open.
Why were they going so slow? Andy had raced his wagon across at top speed, cracking the whip the whole way. Not her stepfather. He seemed to be letting the oxen cross at their own measured pace. Long ago, she’d learned that questioning Pa’s actions brought abuse piled upon her head, but she couldn’t resist. “Why are we going so slow? Shouldn’t we race across so we don’t get stuck in the quicksand?”
“Hogwash.” Pa’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t pay attention to fools who shoot their mouths off. Now shut up and let me drive.”
She did as she was told, even though Len was waving his hat on the far bank, yelling, “Don’t slow down!” They reached the middle of the river without incident. Maybe Pa was right. Maybe…
The wagon came to an abrupt halt. “Getup!” Pa yelled, cracking the whip again and again over the oxen’s heads. Despite their struggles, the wagon didn’t move. Pa continued to yell, but the animals were stuck where they were. Gripped by sheer fear, Callie clasped Tommy tight. The wagon tipped sharply. Next thing she knew, she wasn’t on the seat anymore. She’d been thrown into the icy cold water, Tommy still clasped in her arms. She sank clear under and up again. Sputtering, gasping from the shock of the frigid water, she grabbed a large branch floating by. She held tight to Tommy with her other arm as the current caught them and swept them away.
Callie had no idea how far she traveled. What with her heavy boots, it was all she could do to keep her head above water, and Tommy’s, too, but there was no way she could kick them off. They were drifting closer to the far shore. She kept reaching her feet down, trying to reach bottom. For a long time she couldn’t, then all of a sudden her boot touched something hard. She could walk! She let go of the branch and staggered from the water, carrying Tommy in her arms. Thank God, she wasn’t alone. Part of the Ferguson party must have already crossed over because people came running. Gently, she laid Tommy on his back in the grass at the water’s edge where he lay unmoving, lips blue, skin deadly white. “Tommy, Tommy!” He couldn’t be dead, not this dear little boy who so depended on her. What could she do? Never had she felt so helpless.
She had a vague impression of a horse riding up, someone leaping off.
Luke knelt beside her. “He’s swallowed a lot of water. Come on, we’ll roll him over.” With Callie’s help, he rolled the boy over so Tommy lay on his stomach. “Got to get the water out.” Luke grasped the boy around his middle and lifted him up. As he did, a gush of water flowed from Tommy’s mouth. He lifted again and another gush of water followed the first. Finally Tommy coughed. It was an ugly, hacking cough, but the sound of it brought a cry of joy to Callie’s lips.
“Ah, he’s breathing.”
Luke repeated the process until Tommy’s eyelids fluttered open and he weakly gasped, “I fell in the water.”
Callie stroked Tommy’s forehead. “Yes, you fell in the water, sweetheart, but you’re going to be fine.”
Ma arrived, completely breathless. She must have run along the bank after them. When she caught her breath, she took a quick look at her son, then gazed at Luke. “Is he all right?”
“He’s fine. Just a little cold and wet.”
Ma glared at Callie. “You were supposed to watch him.”
While Callie stared at her stepmother in amazement, unable to think what to answer, Luke spoke up. “You’ve got it wrong, ma’am. Callie saved the boy’s life.”
Ma appeared not to hear. “He shouldn’t just lie there. Come on, Tommy.” She yanked her son to his feet. He sagged, but she pulled him up straight.
Callie called, “He needs to rest. He—”
“Nonsense.” Ma glared at Tommy. “You got your clothes wet.” With a firm grip on his shoulder, she started to lead him away. He wobbled but managed to stay on his feet.
“What about Pa?” Callie called after them.
“He’s fine.” Ma threw the words casually over her shoulder. “So are the oxen and wagon. Andy and Len got them out. Come on, don’t just sit there. We need you.” She continued on her way, leaving Callie sitting cold and shivering on the ground.
Luke removed his buckskin jacket and placed it around her shoulders. “Are you all right?”
“I’m ju-ju-just fine.” She pulled the jacket close as a wave of shivering engulfed her. She’d never been so cold in all her life, but even so, Ma’s lack of sympathy and wounding words were all she could think of. Her teeth chattered. “How could she think such a thing?”
“We’ve got to get you dry. You can worry about your ma later.” Luke lifted her effortlessly in his arms.
Florida waved from her wagon nearby. “Bring her over here!” When they arrived, she declared, “Put her in the back. She’s got to get those wet clothes off or she’ll freeze to death.” Luke lifted Callie into the back of the wagon. Florida climbed in. With little help from Callie, who was too numb to move, she stripped off her boots and wet clothes, rubbed her vigorously with a towel, and wrapped her in a blessedly warm blanket. “You’re a brave girl. You saved the little boy’s life. Where did you learn to swim?”
Hugging the blanket close around her, Callie slowly stopped shivering. “I never learned to swim.” It was hard to talk through lips still numb from the cold. “There was a branch I hung on to. I did what came naturally, I guess.”
“That makes you all the braver. I’m going to get you something to wear.”
Florida had barely climbed from the wagon when Luke stuck his head in. “How are you doing?”
Startled, Callie grabbed for the blanket and pulled it higher over her chest. “I’m fine.” She wished she hadn’t acted so flustered.
Luke laughed softly. “You’re worried about modesty after you nearly drowned? Don’t worry, I didn’t see a thing.”
Perhaps it was the amused arch of his eyebrow that made her see the humor of it all, or perhaps it was the easy smile that played at the corners of his mouth, but whatever it was, she forgot her embarrassment and laughed. “You’re right. I should be thinking how lucky I am to be alive.”
Luke climbed into the wagon and squatted beside her. “I talked to your folks.”
“You did? What about?”
“Let’s just say I wanted to correct any wrong notions they might have as to how Tommy ended up in the river. The blame lies solely with your stepfather. He should never have stopped in the middle of a patch of quicksand. Matter of fact, he was a fool to make that crossing in the first place.”
“I hope you didn’t tell him that.”
“Only the part about you. I made it clear it was no fault of yours. Instead of being blamed, you should be praised and thanked for your bravery. If it hadn’t been for you, Tommy would have drowned.”
No one had ever stood up for her before. “You actually told them that?”
“I did.”
“Did they believe you?”
&nbs
p; “I got my point across.” His gaze roamed over her. “You look like a drowned rat.”
What a hurtful thing to say, although, of course, it must be true. But was it? Detecting a faint light twinkling in the depths of his dark eyes, she realized he meant his words in a playful, affectionate sort of way. “If I look so horrible, maybe you shouldn’t look.”
“Did I say you looked horrible?”
His eyes fell to her bosom, well-covered by the blanket. She grew acutely aware of her nakedness beneath and could hardly force herself to meet his gaze. No man had ever seen her this way before, with her arms bare and her hair hanging loose and tangled about her shoulders. Could he like her? Could he possibly think she was pretty?
“Don’t underestimate yourself, Callie Whitaker.” His voice held a trace of laughter. He parted the flaps and dropped from the wagon, leaving her gazing after him, both flattered and confused.
Florida soon appeared with Callie’s spare dress, a blue calico that was every bit as faded and ill-fitting as the other one. She slipped it on, wishing she had something better to wear. She put on her boots, which Florida had set by the fire to dry, and laced them up. Luke was nowhere in sight. After thanking Florida for her help, she walked along the riverbank back to her family. The wagon that got stuck had been towed from the water and sat safely on the shore. By the time she reached it, her moment of revelation about her looks had faded from her mind. How could she possibly look anything but ugly in this horrible, ill-fitting dress? How could she possibly have thought a man as handsome and desirable as Luke McGraw could feel anything other than sympathy for a plain servant girl?
Everything was a mess. Pa was nowhere in sight. Various and sundry items from the wagon that had gotten wet were laid out haphazardly to dry. Her stepsisters were trying to build a campfire. They were choking and fanning themselves as billows of smoke blew in their faces.
“Callie! Where have you been?” Nellie cried.
Lydia stuck out her arm to show an angry red burn near her wrist. “Look here. I burnt myself trying to do your job.”
Ma appeared. When she saw Callie, she jammed her fists to her hips. “Where have you been? Look at this mess. Where were you when we needed you? Now Lydia has burned herself, I’m exhausted and Nellie…”
She rambled on, piling everything that went wrong that day directly on Callie’s head. “Now go fix supper and get caught up on your chores.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Callie listened humbly, head bowed. What trouble she had caused? She was truly sorry… But wait a minute. What, actually, had she done wrong? Why was she being blamed for anything? Hadn’t Luke and Florida praised her for saving Tommy’s life? She started to turn away then turned back again. “About Tommy—”
“Mister McGraw came by and told us what happened.” Ma paused, like it was an effort to force the words out. “So I suppose you weren’t directly to blame, but that doesn’t mean you should shirk your chores.” Ma gave her one more scathing glare and walked away.
Callie resumed her work, quiet as always, the little mouse grateful to be working for her keep. Inside, though, an emotion totally foreign to her began to brew. How dare Ma say those things when all I did was save Tommy from drowning? How dare she talk to me that way?
Soon the habits of a lifetime took over. Being of an agreeable nature, she couldn’t stay angry for long. What good would it do her? Besides, wasn’t she grateful the Whitakers had taken her in? Given her a roof over her head? Of course she was, so she shouldn’t even think of complaining and, most of all, she must remember her place.
Chapter 4
Pa was gone for a long time. When he returned, he gathered his family and hired hands together. “I’ve been meeting with Colonel Ferguson and his captains.” He paused, appearing reluctant to continue. When he did, he seemed to be forcing each word from his mouth. “I have decided we will not make the journey alone. We will join the Ferguson wagon train.”
Both Lydia and Nellie squealed with delight, prompting Pa to scowl. “No more outbursts. There’s nothing to be pleased about. I made my decision with grave misgivings.”
Ma looked genuinely puzzled. “Why did you change your mind, Caleb? You were so sure you wanted to travel alone.”
“It’s with good reason I didn’t want to join. Before they set out, those wagon trains draw up constitutions. They elect officers. They’ve got all kinds of rules and regulations you’ve got to obey.”
“You never were much on obeying the rules.”
“Dang right I’m not. I don’t care to answer to any man, but we’ll join up with Ferguson because there’s safety in numbers.” He addressed his daughters. “You will avoid contact with the lowlifes in that train as much as possible. Do you understand?”
Ma looked doubtful. “Are you sure this is what you want to do?”
“It’s done. We won’t discuss it.”
Judging from the firm clamp of her stepfather’s jaw, Callie knew the conversation was over. No one dared say another word. Pa’s way was the right way. When defied, his anger could be very ugly indeed.
In a somber mood, they traveled back down the riverbank and camped alongside the Ferguson wagon train. That night there was no community campfire, no merry fiddle and lively dancing. Everyone was exhausted from the demands of the difficult river crossing. Only when Callie crawled into the tent and heard her stepsisters’ ecstatic chatter did she realize how happy they were they wouldn’t be traveling alone.
Even Nellie, ordinarily so unexpressive, could hardly contain her excitement. “Just think, I shall be traveling all the way to California with that good-looking Coy Barnett. That’s weeks and weeks! By the time we get there, he’ll be madly in love with me.”
“Don’t be so sure, sister dear. Every girl in the company must be after him, the ones who aren’t after Magnus Ferguson. He’s a great catch. A widower, you know, and rich besides.”
“Do you like him?”
Lydia’s voice brightened. “Of course, I like him. He’ll be eating out of my hand by the time we get there.”
“What do you think of Luke McGraw?”
“He’s rude and unfriendly. I don’t like him.”
“Ha! That’s because he didn’t dance with you.”
Usually Callie wanted to close her ears to her stepsisters’ silly conversation. Not tonight, though. She, too, thought of the long weeks ahead when she’d see Luke McGraw every day. But why Luke? Lydia said he was rude and unfriendly, and she was right. But I’m not like Lydia. I don’t dislike him. She might even get to know him better. They’d talk. He’d treat her like an equal person, not like a servant, maybe even regard her with those dark, observant eyes as if he thought she was pretty, like he did today. But what was she thinking? If she was going to dream about a man, it ought to be Magnus Ferguson, not someone as remote and withdrawn as Luke. Did she honestly believe she’d have even the faintest chance to attract a man like Magnus? No, she wouldn’t, not with beautiful Lydia casting her cornflower blue eyes in his direction.
I’ll put it out of my mind. Callie snuggled into her blankets, dead tired from the grueling day. What a lovely day it had been, despite everything. Maybe she was an outsider who could never compete with her stepsisters, but her spirits soared. No more life of isolation. For the first time ever, she’d be with other people, not just her family, at least until they reached California, and who knew what would happen then? Back in Tennessee, when she’d first heard they were heading west, she had been overcome with dread, didn’t want to go. How her thinking had changed! Who knew what the future held? Maybe she even had a future. What a wonderful thought. And yet…would there be any difference? When they reached California, Pa would buy another farm, so there she’d be, the same old drudge she’d been in Tennessee, only… No! Don’t underestimate yourself, Luke had said, and he was right. From now on, she definitely would not underestimate herself. From now on, she wasn’t sure how, but things would be different.
She fell asleep with a spark of hope glimmering deep in a corner of her mind.
In the morning, they became the forty-first and forty-second wagons in the Ferguson wagon train. Pa grumbled when they were assigned a place at the end of the line, the worst possible position. When the trail was dry, stirred-up dust choked the last wagons. When the trail was wet, the ruts in the road were deepest for those unfortunate enough to bring up the rear.
Callie hardly noticed, having discovered the best way to meet her new neighbors was to ride Duke alongside the train as it rolled along at its snail’s pace, a good two miles an hour at best. She discovered what fun it was to go up and down the line of wagons, visiting families along the way. Why had they made such a drastic change in their lives, pulling up stakes and heading west? Each had a fascinating story to tell. Doc Wilson, the only doctor with the train, was from Virginia, traveling solo. The kindly Reverend Wilkins, his wife and son, Colton, were from Massachusetts, eager to start a new life in a new land. Jack and Gert Gowdy and their five children planned to farm in California. Jack was a burly, feisty man. His wife, Gert, claimed she was a medicine woman with a vast knowledge of herbs. She had a slovenly look about her, making Callie doubt she’d ever ask for the woman’s advice.
Most families were large, their children scrambling about the wagons, poking their heads out or running freely alongside. Not everyone was headed to California. Some planned to split off at Fort Hall and head northwest on the Oregon Trail. All had cut their ties with home. Callie marveled at how brave the women were, leaving behind family, friends, and the only home they had ever known to traipse off into the wilderness and begin a new life.
Occasionally, she spotted Luke riding Rascal, his sorrel gelding. She wished he’d stop and talk, but he was always busy, and she never got a chance to speak to him. At mid-morning, the train stopped by a stream to rest both humans and animals. Callie was riding beside the Sawyer’s wagon when Florida spotted her and called, “Come have a cup of coffee.”
Wagon Train Cinderella Page 4
