When Callie entered the tent, Lydia’s irritated voice cut through the pitch-black darkness. “Where have you been?”
Callie could hardly think what to answer. “Nowhere.”
“Were you with him?”
“Who?”
“Magnus,” Lydia fairly screeched. “I saw you dancing with him.”
“So? He danced with all the girls.”
“Where’s Nellie?” It was more an accusation than a question.
Callie peered in the direction of Nellie’s blankets but in the darkness couldn’t see a thing. “She’s not here?”
“No.”
“Then I don’t know.”
Lydia’s voice filled with a combination of worry and disgust. “Then she’s gone off with Coy.”
“Are you sure? If she did, Pa will—”
“Pa will kill her. She’d better get back here, and soon.”
Callie had fallen asleep when, in the small hours of the morning, she was awakened when Nellie stealthily entered the tent and crept into her bed.
Lydia woke up, too. “Nellie, is that you?”
“Of course it’s me.”
“Where have you been?”
“Coy and I took a walk.” Excitement bubbled in Nellie’s voice.
Lydia drew in a shocked breath. “What if Pa finds out? He’ll skin you alive.”
“He won’t if you don’t tell him.” Nellie sounded not the least concerned. “Oh, Lydia, I’m so in love with Coy Barnett. I’ll die if I can’t have him.”
An alarmed “Shhh” came from Lydia’s direction. “Don’t wake up Pa. Is Coy in love with you?”
“Yes.”
“How do you know?”
“Because he said so.”
“Did he ask you to marry him?”
“Not yet, but he will. I know because we’ve sealed our love. It was beautiful.”
There was a long, shocked silence. “Sealed your love? Dear God, don’t tell me you did it.”
A soft, knowing trace of laughter said it all. “Isn’t that what people do when they’re in love? If you expect me to say I’m sorry, I won’t.”
Callie had listened in silence but could no longer hold her tongue. “Oh, Nellie, I’m afraid he’s deceiving you. Coy Barnett is—”
“I knew you were listening,” Nellie harshly whispered. “You’d better not say anything.”
“What is there to say except you’d better be careful.”
“Listen to Little Mouse! She actually has an opinion.”
Lydia giggled. “She thinks she’s smart now she knows how to read.”
“She’s not so smart when it comes to love. She’s never even been kissed.”
“And probably never will,” Lydia added.
Callie turned her back and burrowed deep into her blankets. Nellie could be heading for a world of trouble. Maybe she should say more, but she was only Little Mouse and not worth listening to. That’s not true. In the past, she’d always accepted her stepsisters’ sneering remarks without question. Was she really so stupid her opinion didn’t matter? Florida’s words came back to her—you’re a lot smarter than you realize. By God, she was! Not only that, she might be smarter than both Lydia and Nellie put together. Even after they’d been to school, they could barely read and could hardly put one intelligent thought next to another.
Lydia was mad at her because of Magnus. Not that she cared. In fact, she wouldn’t waste another moment thinking about them. She wanted her last waking thought to be about Luke, not her stepsisters. She wanted to fall asleep thinking about that wondrous moment when he had kissed her on the forehead. Maybe he wanted to do more. He was such a mystery, she still wasn’t sure.
* * * *
Next morning, after Callie fixed breakfast and finished her chores, she found she had a few spare minutes before the train began its trek for the day. She got out McGuffey’s Reader and sat down with Tommy.
Thank goodness, the boy had completely recovered from his near drowning in the river. Only a few weeks had passed, but he seemed to have forgotten his terror. In many ways he’d improved since they left Tennessee. Back home, he had hardly seemed aware of the world around him. He’d hardly spoken, had only repeated a few words over and over again. He would sit on the floor in a corner for hours, rolling a ball, or rocking back and forth. The family had ignored him most of the time, all except Callie, but with her endless chores, even she had barely spared enough time to keep him clean and fed.
The weeks on the trail had done him good. Now he seemed more alert, spoke words that were meaningful, and didn’t rock as much. Callie wasn’t sure why he’d improved. Perhaps it was because there were no dark corners for him to sit in anymore. Of necessity, the family paid him more attention, Callie most of all. She was trying to teach him to read, a hopeless task thus far.
She opened the reader to Lesson Four which pictured a hen standing on a box. “The…fat…hen…is…on…the…box.” She ran her finger over the page as she read. Tommy gave no reaction, but that was all right. She wasn’t about to give up.
Nellie appeared. When she saw what Callie was doing, she shook her head and laughed with scorn. “What a waste of time.”
“No, it’s not.” How many times had she said those words before? Why couldn’t her family understand Tommy needed help and encouragement, not their constant ridicule? Nellie was the worst, always scoffing at the boy. “Can’t you see how he’s improved?”
Nellie peered down her nose. “I can’t be bothered.”
Just then Coy and a couple of friends came riding by. As he passed, he touched a finger to the brim of his hat and looked at Nellie in such a lecherous way it made Callie’s skin crawl.
“You’d better watch out, Nellie.” The words came out of her mouth before she could stop them. “Coy Barnett is nothing but trouble.”
Nellie’s expression turned dark as a thundercloud. “Mind your own business. I know what I’m doing.” She strode away.
What was the use? Why had she bothered? From now on, she’d keep her mouth shut. Nellie wasn’t going to listen no matter what she, or anyone else, said, and that was too bad, because Nellie’s so-called romance wasn’t going to end well. In fact, it could easily end in complete disaster.
Later in the morning, Callie, holding Tommy’s hand, was walking alongside the wagon with her stepsisters when a group of Indians on horseback approached from behind. The wagon train halted. Apprehension grew as the single file of Indians passed by with hardly a glance in their direction. The company had encountered a few Indians along the way, but these looked the strangest of all with feathers in their hair, bare-chested, wearing nothing except buckskin breechcloths, leggings, and moccasins. At the sight of them, Tommy screamed and buried his face in Callie’s skirt. Lydia and Nellie, both shrieking, ran to the rear of the wagon and clambered inside just as Luke rode up on Rascal and came to a dust-stirring stop. “Nothing to fear.”
Ma and Pa sat frozen on the wagon seat.
“They’re Pawnees passing through on their way to their hunting grounds. They’re looking for buffalo, not white settlers to massacre.”
Pa asked, “Will they attack us?”
Luke shook his head. “Those Pawnees are a lot more interested in saving themselves than attacking us. There’s a party of Sioux in the neighborhood. There’s bad blood between the Pawnees and Sioux. Like as not, they’ll soon be battling each other.”
“Are you sure?”
Fear filled her stepfather’s eyes. It dwelt in his voice. So surprising. She’d grown up believing nothing in the world could frighten her strong, all-powerful stepfather. He could handle any situation that came along. Here was a side of him she’d never seen before.
Luke gave Pa a reassuring smile. “They won’t attack us, Mister Whitaker. To be safe, we’re going to circle the wagons and stop for the day. There might be trouble ahead, and we want to avoid it.”
Despite Luke’s reassura
nces, Lydia, wide-eyed with fear, parted the canvas flaps and stuck her head out. “Are they going to scalp us?”
“Just a precaution. Nothing to be alarmed about.”
Ma pointed a trembling finger at the Indians, mounted on spotted horses, who still passed silently by. “Aren’t they all savages who’d kill us rather than look at us? Look at how they’re dressed, practically naked.” Her voice bordered on hysteria.
“That’s the way they dress, ma’am. They won’t bother us.”
“What do you suggest we do?” The tremor in Pa’s voice gave his nervousness away.
“Do nothing. If we hear the sounds of battle, we stay alert. Otherwise, we ignore them. This is the Indians’ business, not ours. The farther we stay away, the better.” Luke was about to leave when he caught sight of Tommy peering at him with frightened eyes from the folds of Callie’s skirt. He swung from his horse. “Don’t be afraid, child.” He knelt beside Tommy and put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “The Indians aren’t going to hurt you.”
Tommy turned his head toward Luke. “Bad…Indians.”
Luke, his dark eyes gentle and understanding, gazed straight into Tommy’s gray ones. “I promise they won’t hurt you. Do you believe me?”
After a moment, Tommy nodded his head ever so slightly.
Amazing! Hardly anyone ever got through to the child, and it was Luke, of all people, who did. Callie gave him a grateful smile. “Thank you, Mister McGraw. He believes you.”
Luke got to his feet. “He should. We’re going to be fine.” After a final, confident pat on Tommy’s shoulder, Luke mounted his horse and rode off to the next wagon in line.
Callie watched after him. There’d been nothing in his manner to indicate they’d had a special moment the night before, but why should there be? A kiss on the forehead didn’t mean a thing.
The wagons formed a circle. Soon they spied another group of Indians in the distance. Word rapidly spread this was a party of Sioux Indians. They came closer. Judging from the guns and bows and arrows they carried, it was a war party. Along with everyone else, Callie watched warily as the Sioux passed silently by on their horses. They were dressed much like the Pawnees. Some wore heavy buffalo furs around their shoulders. All wore necklaces and armbands made of seashells, metal, and beads.
When the last of the Sioux passed by, disappearing over a ridge in the distance, the nervous members of the wagon train heaved a collective sigh of relief. But too soon. Callie was building a fire for supper when gunshots rang from the other side of the ridge, accompanied by wild shouts and horses neighing. Lydia and Nellie hid in their tent, loath to come out where, according to Lydia, they could be scalped and worse at any moment.
Ma panicked immediately. “We’ll all be killed! We should never have left Tennessee.”
“Shut your mouth, woman.” Pa had retrieved his guns from the wagon and now sat ramming gunpowder into his rifle.
Callie continued fixing supper. If Luke said not to worry, then she wouldn’t. Indians or no, her family and the hired hands would still expect to eat. By the time they finished an uneasy meal, the sounds of battle had faded. Everyone waited warily, but as time went by, and no wild savages burst into their camp to slaughter them all, tensions eased. Finally, just before dusk, some of the young men of the company, including Coy Barnett, stopped by to announce they were riding to the top of the ridge to see what happened.
When Coy returned, he stopped by their campsite. “Good evening, ladies.” Still on his horse, he swept off his hat in an exaggerated greeting, an annoying gesture because of its mockery and insincerity. Everything about him was deceitful. She didn’t understand how Nellie could tolerate someone so despicable.
By now, both her stepsisters had gotten over their fright. They gave Coy a warm greeting, especially Nellie, who fell all over herself, so smitten was she by Coy’s presence.
He looked down from atop his horse, a smirk on his face. “Want to see some dead Indians?”
A wave of giggles and feigned hysterics met Coy’s question. Nellie slammed a hand to her chest. “Oh my stars, you mean the Indian battle?”
“Silly girl, what do you think I meant?”
“What if they’re still there?”
“They’re not. They’re gone, at least the live ones.”
“Then what—?”
“You’ll have to come and see for yourself. Unless you’re chicken.” Coy gave a contemptuous lift of his lip. “Well, girls, are you too chicken to go?”
Lydia thrust her hands to her hips. “We are no such thing, Coy Barnett. How do you know there are dead Indians there?”
“We saw them from the top of the ridge. If you’re too sissy to go, say so. I’m going. I want to get me some of that Indian jewelry. They wear silver, you know.”
Ma and Pa were listening from the wagon seat. At the mention of silver, Ma’s face lit up. “Maybe we should all go. Wait up, Coy.” Tommy was playing quietly by the wagon. Ma climbed down and took his hand. “Come on, boy. We’re going to see dead Indians.”
“Oh, no!” Callie blurted the words before she even had time to think. “Ma, that’s a horrible idea. Tommy’s much too young to be looking at dead people.”
Pa snorted with disgust. “That’s foolishness,” he shouted down. “Those Indians aren’t people. They’re animals. Take him, Hester. It’ll do the boy good. Make a man of him.”
Callie continued to argue until she could see Pa’s mind was made up, and so was Ma’s. She had no desire to see dead Indians. The very idea was disgusting, but in order to watch over Tommy, she’d have to go along whether she liked it or not.
Except for Pa, who declared he had better things to do, the entire Whitaker family soon was following Coy on foot, trudging through a heavy growth of cedar and pine trees. It was a merry group. If Callie hadn’t known better, she’d have thought they were on their way to some sort of party. Nellie and Lydia, in particular, kept up their laughter, acting as if it were a cause for celebration. When they reached the top of the ridge, Callie looked down on a sight she’d never forget. A large meadow lay before her. At first glance, it appeared to be a pleasant spot, covered with green grass, dotted here and there by splotches of color provided by tulips, larkspurs, roses, and other flowers Callie had never dreamed grew wild. Several objects lay scattered about the meadow, dark shapes of some sort that, at first, Callie couldn’t make out. Full of self-importance, Coy pointed. “There’s your dead Indians, girls. Let’s go take a look.”
They all walked down to the meadow and started across, Lydia and Nellie chatting excitedly. Ma went right along, eager for a closer look. Callie followed with dragging steps. She dreaded going closer, but Ma still held on to Tommy, so she had no choice.
They drew close to the first body, that of a young Indian, not more than twenty or so. He lay on his back, empty eyes staring at the sky. The feathered shafts of several arrows protruded from his body. His scalp was gone, leaving his head bare, bloody, and so ghastly, Callie could hardly bear to look.
Coy nudged the body with the toe of his boot. “See? Nothing to fear, girls. He’s as dead as they get.”
Nellie made a face. “Eeew. How disgusting.”
Coy nudged the corpse again. “You know what they say—a good Indian is a dead Indian.” He gazed expectantly at Lydia and Nellie. “Anybody going to throw up?”
Lydia tilted her chin. “Not I.”
Nellie answered, “I won’t be throwing up over any Indian.”
Coy prodded the Indian’s head, causing blood to spurt from the young brave’s scalp. Tommy gave an anguished cry and broke from his mother’s grasp. He ran to Callie and threw his arms around her. Clasping him tight, Callie opened her mouth to yell at Ma, then clamped it shut again. I mustn’t. Never had she raised her voice to her stepmother. How could she start now? She’d never do such a thing, regardless of the reason. “Tommy needs to go back, Ma.” She managed to sound almost pleasant, the best she could
do considering the rage growing inside her.
“Then take him back.” Hester didn’t seem at all concerned over her son’s welfare. She pointed to the silver bands that circled the dead brave’s arms. “Could those bands be of silver?”
Coy nodded.
“Then I’d like to have them. Can you cut them off?” She directed her attention to a necklace of what appeared to be grizzly bear claws that circled the Indian’s neck. “How about that necklace he’s wearing? It’s pretty fancy, but maybe my girls can get some use out of it.”
Nellie shook her head. “I don’t want to wear some dirty old Indian necklace.”
“We should take it,” said Lydia. “Maybe I could use it for a decoration. After we get to California, I could hang it on my bedroom wall or something.”
Ma nodded. “Go ahead, Coy, cut it off.”
Callie watched Coy bend, knife in hand, to cut off the bear claw necklace. The words burst from deep within her. She had no way of stopping them. “Stop! Don’t you dare cut that necklace off.”
Coy looked up in surprise.
“You heard me, Coy Barnett. I don’t care if he is an Indian. You should treat him with respect. He’s not an animal.”
Ma’s mouth dropped open. “Callie! Apologize this instant.”
Still pressed against Callie’s skirt, Tommy let out a wail so pitiful it filled Callie with more fury. She directed a scathing gaze at her stepmother. “See what you’ve done? The child is terrified. You should never have brought him here. None of us should be here, laughing and making light of something so horrible.” Her voice gained strength as she talked. It was like a dam had broken, releasing her pent-up anger in a horrendous gush of words impossible to contain.
Ma shook her head in amazement. “I don’t know what’s come over you.”
Before Callie could answer, a voice came from behind her. “Put down that knife, Coy. You touch that necklace, and you’re dead.” Luke. He barely spoke above a whisper, yet no one could mistake the cold authority in his voice.
Coy slipped the knife in his pocket and backed away. “Golly, Mister McGraw, it’s only a dead Indian. He won’t care if I take his necklace.”
Wagon Train Cinderella Page 8
