Unconquerable Callie

by DeAnn Smallwood

  “Thank you,” she said quietly, and moved to the Dutch oven.

  His brow wrinkled as he watched her take out two golden biscuits and put them on a plate.

  “You make those?” Seth asked.

  “Our Callie’s a baker, Mr. McCallister,” one of the women answered. “She’s baking us apple pies Sunday when we lay over. If their crust is anything like those biscuits, we’re in for a real treat. That fiancé of hers better sit up and appreciate this girl.” The woman moved off, leaving Callie standing there, her cheeks bright pink.

  “Our Callie, huh?” Seth grinned. “Winning them over with pie, Miss Collins?”

  He bit into a biscuit, licking a crumb from his lips.

  “You seem surprised, Mr. McCallister. Wasn’t it you who told me my place was in the kitchen?” Callie could have bitten off her tongue as the words flew from her mouth. The man just itched to be dressed down and she was only too willing to scratch.

  The feathery biscuit turned into a rock as Seth tried to swallow. He set the remaining biscuit aside. Damned if he’d give her the satisfaction of seeing her words had hit home.

  Callie took a plate of the stew and a seat on the other side of the campfire where she wouldn’t have to look at or speak to Seth McCallister.

  Seth cleared his throat. “We’ll have our first council meeting tomorrow after evening meal,” Seth said to the men, his voice carrying into the night. “It’ll be a time to elect your representatives. The men you choose will need to be someone who has the best interest of the wagon train at heart. We’ll probably meet every few days, more often if the need arises. I need to know all your concerns or worries, and I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t listen. You folks have put your faith in me, and before that faith is tested, as it will be,” he added ominously, “you need to have confidence that my decisions are sound and based in the best interest of the train. We had a slow day today, but a hard day. We’ll get faster. We need to cover fifteen miles a day on the best of days, and there had better be more good than bad.” With that, he stood up.

  “My thanks to the cooks. That was mighty tasty stew. Beats beans any old day.” He smiled at the women, acknowledging each one of them. “And the biscuits were more than tasty. I hope I’m invited to share the apple pie Sunday.” He looked over to where Callie sat only to find her spot empty.

  “We’ll be sure to tell Callie,” Millie Monroe said. “She did more than her share today and I expect she’s calling it a day.”

  “We all should,” Seth said, struggling to keep the disappointment out of his voice. Callie Collins was irritating as a burr under a saddle. All hair and green eyes with a face that showed every emotion. And he knew as he walked back to his camp that she would continue to challenge him just as she would continue to creep into his thoughts.

  Callie woke refreshed. Her feet were sore, but that was to be expected. As it turned out, the years of hard work in her aunt’s boarding house had prepared her well for this journey.

  Wrapped in her shawl, Callie impatiently waited for the morning coffee to boil a little longer for a stronger brew. Callie thought back on her first day and knew she’d done well. She and Caleb worked together as if they’d been driving a team of oxen all their life. It had only taken a few miles before Callie realized the importance of not overloading a wagon. Her oxen hadn’t shown any strain at the end of the day, and when they turned into the circle with the rest of the animals, they placidly set about eating the available grass. There were several other teams without that luxury, and Callie wondered how they’d fare over the course of weeks and weeks of travel.

  “Oh, well,” she said aloud to the still of the morning, “that’s not my problem, thank heavens.”

  “What’s not your problem, Miss Collins?”

  Callie turned and hoped the quick rush of pleasure she felt didn’t show. Of course she felt pleasure, she quickly reasoned. She was probably lonely and anyone would have been welcome, even Seth McCallister.

  “The train, or more to the point, the teams pulling the wagons,” Callie said.

  Seth took a seat and picked up the lone cup. “Mind?” he asked with a smile.

  Callie shook her head and went for another cup. This was getting to be a habit, but a nice one.

  “You seem to be the earliest riser,” Seth said, pouring them both a cup. “And your coffee is perfect, just like your biscuits,” he added. “There was one other wagon stirring, but I didn’t have any desire to join them.”

  “And why would that be, Mr. McCallister? I’m surprised that a captain of a wagon train would play favorites.” Callie blushed at her words. Surely he wouldn’t think she thought she was his favorite. Darn her mouth.

  Seth answered her, apparently not noticing her choice of words or the color of her face. “Teething.”

  “What?”

  “The Wilsons. Baby has been howling most the night. Mr. Wilson said yesterday he was teething and not one bit happy about it. I figured that while they probably had coffee, I’d take my cup elsewhere.”

  “Probably a good choice. I like my first cup uninterrupted,” Callie said.

  “Am I interrupting?” Seth asked, his eyes meeting hers.

  “No. We both seem to have this in common.” She gestured with her cup. “I’m not sure we have much else we agree on, Mr. McCallister, but we do have coffee.”

  “That we do.” He filled both their cups again.

  “Caleb seems to do well with the oxen,” Seth said.

  “Caleb’s doing a great job. I’m lucky I found him.”

  “I understand you helped the family out quite a bit. Without you, they wouldn’t have been able to join the train,” Seth said, matter-of-fact.

  “How?”

  “Jacob Monroe told me. He’s a proud man and you knew that.” Seth gave her an admiring look. “They’re a good family. We need people like them settling the West.”

  Callie wondered if Seth McCallister thought the West needed people like her and prayed he’d never find out how she’d lied to get her spot on this train.

  “It’s the other way around, Mr. McCallister. The Monroe’s helped me out.”

  He continued to sip his coffee. The silence that grew between them was comfortable and easy, a peaceful start to what was sure to be a long day.

  Finally, he stood up. “Well, can’t postpone the sun. We’re crossing a small river, Miss Collins. We’re lucky. No hard rains, so no chance of flooding. Still, better make sure everything’s tied down. Your oxen might need some prodding at the start, but I don’t think you have a worry there. It won’t be anything like when we cross farther up the trail and have to load the wagons on scows. I don’t look forward to that.”

  “Thank you for the advice,” Callie said. “I’ll be sure all’s secure. And, Mr. McCallister, I’m glad you told me about the baby teething. I’ll make sure I give Mrs. Wilson a hand.”

  Seth gave her a steady look and gently shook his head. Callie Collins wasn’t turning out anything like he had thought. Nothing at all . . . but more.

  Chapter 12

  The river crossing went easy. Just as Callie guided her wagon into the water, Seth McCallister rode up. His body taut as he spared her a glance, then started to move on seeing that she and Caleb had everything in hand.

  “Get your boots off, Miss Collins, Caleb,” he called. “Tie them around your neck. Better to have a few cuts on your feet from the rocks than a pair of boots shrunk up until they’d fit a youngun.” He whirled his horse around, not waiting to see if his advice was followed.

  Callie and Caleb crossed alongside the oxen, prodding them when needed. Even though the cold run-off waters came to Callie’s waist in spots and took her breath away, she welcomed the impromptu bath.

  Her teeth chattered by the time they reached the opposite bank. While C
aleb checked the oxen, Callie quickly climbed into the wagon to make sure nothing had shaken loose or gotten wet. Everything was as she’d secured it.

  Since she and the Monroe family were one of the first across, Callie knew there would be a wait. She quickly changed into dry clothes and hung her river-washed dress to dry, then went out and urged Caleb to go to his wagon and do the same.

  Surely they’d stay here for their noon meal and rest. It was early in the day, but this was an ideal spot to camp for the two-hour rest period commonly taken at noon. Callie thought about freeing her oxen to graze, when a movement at the edge of a line of trees caught her eye. She narrowed her eyes and concentrated on a distant clump of brush that moved. The brush was thick and the surrounding trees looked impenetrable. There. It moved again. In fact, several dark bushes were moving.

  Out of the corner of her eye, Callie saw Tommy Sanderson go running toward the trees. He had one suspender strap down and was obviously looking for a private spot to answer nature’s call. She smiled to herself. Very little went unnoticed on a wagon train.

  Suddenly the dark bushes took shape and Callie’s heart leaped into her throat. The movements turned out to be bears, one very large black bear. In the next second, out from nearby bushes, a cub tumbled. Mama bear swung her head from side-to-side, scanning the trespassers in her domain.

  Tommy, intent on his mission, saw nothing but possible privacy. He ran behind a bush just a few feet from a cub. The female bear gave a loud whuff, but, like any baby, the cub was curious and moved so that Tommy was between him and the mother bear.

  Callie didn’t know if she saw or sensed the mother’s reaction. All she knew was that Tommy was in danger. Fierce protectiveness would rise up in the bear and she would kill anything or anyone that she saw as a threat to her offspring. There were only minutes to act! Any second, Tommy would finish his job and emerge from the bushes.

  Heart pounding, Callie started moving toward the bear as it rose slowly to its hind feet, her head a steady swivel as she sniffed the air. The wayward cub sat down on his fat rump and gave out with a bleat.

  Callie knew she had to do something before the mother bear decided to attack Tommy. But before she could take another step, the boy’s red head popped up from behind the bush. He froze, his mouth open wide, the gigantic bear only feet away.

  Callie walked steadily toward the bear. She measured her breathing and willed a calmness that she was far from feeling. Something inside her told her that she musn’t show fear. She also knew Tommy was in grave danger.

  Sensing another presence, the female bear swung her massive head in Callie’s direction. Yes. Keep focused on me. The hair on the animal’s back rose black, beady eyes focused on Callie and a sour smell filled the air.

  “Tommy,” Callie said softy, barely moving her lips. “Do exactly as I say. Don’t speak. Move away from the bush. Side step behind the cub. Slowly. That’s the way. A few more. Now. Back up. Don’t run, don’t.” Callie’s eyes never left the bear while she gave the whispered orders. She dare not blink.

  “Are you behind me?” Callie whispered.

  “Yes,” came the faint reply.

  “Very gently raise your hand and touch my back. Slowly. You and I will step back. Careful. No sudden movements.”

  Callie placed one foot behind the other as Tommy did the same. She felt his hand tremble on the small of her back.

  “Step,” Callie whispered, “step, step.” Footstep by footstep, the distance grew between them and the bears.

  When they were close to the wagons, mother bear dropped to all fours. Callie’s heart stopped. Would she charge?

  “If she charges,” Callie said, “run. Run fast. Get help.”

  “What about you?” Tommy whispered.

  “I’ll be okay.” It was a lie. But lying was what she did best, wasn’t it?

  The bear was a mountain of mouth and claws.

  Callie and Tommy barely breathed.

  Then, as if they were of no importance, the mother bear gave a loud woof, turned and, with the cub bounding beside her, disappeared into the dark of the trees.

  Callie trembled violently as she spun around and enfolded the small boy in her arms. “We’re okay, Tommy. We’re okay.”

  She closed her eyes, her face buried in his hair, her heart pounding.

  “Oh thank God. Tommy. My Tommy.”

  The boy pulled away and turned.

  “Mom.” He broke free and he and the woman ran to one another.

  Callie dropped her hands to her side. For the first time, she noticed the crowd, unmoving, frozen with shock, disbelief engraved on each face. Then, a loud oath and the sound of hooves broke the spell. Bent low over his horse’s neck, Seth galloped into view. Parting the crowd, he jerked his horse to a stop. In one fluid motion he landed on his feet, rifle in hand. He raced the distance between him and Callie.

  He grabbed her up in his arms, scanned the area, then judging it safe to turn, his back, quickly strode back to the wagons.

  “That was a fool thing to do,” Seth muttered in her ear. “You could have been killed.”

  Callie hated the weakness that engulfed her. Seth McCallister’s arms were most welcome.

  “Well, I wasn’t,” she weakly protested. “I can walk, Mr. McCallister. Please put me down.” But her request was feeble and fell on deaf ears.

  Just as they reached the wagons, Phyllis Monroe ran toward them. “Is she all right?”

  “Just scared, I ‘spect.”

  He sat her down on the nearest rock as the crowd gathered around.

  “Here”—Millie pressed a cup of cold water in Callie’s hands—“You’re shaking.”

  “Get her a blanket,” Seth ordered.

  In minutes, blankets appeared from every direction. Seth took the closest one and wrapped it around her shoulders.

  Tommy’s mother and father pushed their way through the crowd.

  “How can we ever thank you? You saved Tommy’s life.”

  “You don’t have to thank me. Tommy was very brave. I did what anyone would do.” Callie smiled weakly at them.

  Voices rose as everyone talked at once, thanking her and giving her hugs. But through the melee one voice reached her.

  “We’ll take our noon rest here,” Seth said. “We just had our first close call. There’ll be others. Miss Collins took a risk. It could have ended differently. She acted fast. Thought on her feet.” He looked down at Callie’s pale face and smiled.

  Seth squeezed her shoulder and, before he walked away he spoke softly, just for her ears. “Good job, Miss Collins. For a menace, you did fine. Real fine.”

  Chapter 13

  By the time they circled the wagons for the night, Callie had put the incident from her mind. The trail demanded her full attention. Problems arose, you took care of them. Squaring your shoulders, you moved on, ready to face the next complication. No use dwelling on what had happened, or what might have happened. The strong moved forward, and she was determined to be one of the strong.

  They had made good time that afternoon, and Seth called a halt a little earlier than usual. Callie was glad of this. She had something that needed to be done before the council meeting.

  She begged off supper with the Monroe’s, saying she would fix something on her own. Jacob and Phyllis readily agreed, thinking she needed quiet and rest after the day’s ordeal. However, rest was the last thing on Callie’s mind.

  Using the top of a wooden box for a table, Callie quickly put together the ingredients for what she hoped would be admission to a closed circle. She had her Dutch oven warming in a bed of coals and hoped her efforts wouldn’t result in raw dough or blackened mounds. Baking in a Dutch oven instead of a cook stove’s reliable oven was a new challenge. Callie was becoming fond of the thick-walled iron cooking pot
with its tight fitting lid and three short legs, the wire handle that made it easy to lift on or off the camp fire. Often it was buried in coals and emerged with ashes coating the lid. It was the mainstay for every woman preparing a variety of meals in the absence of a regular stove.

  Callie lifted the lid every few seconds to peer inside and check on her progress. After she removed the first batch from the oven, Callie was smiling. By the time the last batch was lifted out, she was humming. So far, her plan was working.

  Callie barely had time to heat dishwater, clean up her mess, and put out the fire. She’d be gone for a while and when she returned, it would be bedtime.

  Folding a flour sack dishtowel into a makeshift basket, Callie carefully filled it with cookies. Then, smiling to herself, she left her camp and made her way to the men’s council meeting.

  The council was in progress when she stepped up to a vacant log. She entered the circle of men. Seth McCallister stood in the middle and noticed her. A scowl furrowed his forehead. He paused, then continued.

  Callie pretended oblivion to the scowl. Every man there stared at her. She calmly unwrapped her dishcloth basket, reached inside, pulled something out, and took a large bite. She chewed blissfully, and every so often her tongue licked her lips, catching sprinkles of sugar.

  Just as she finished and was opening the cloth basket again, Seth stopped mid-sentence.

  “Miss Collins,” he said.

  “Yes?”

  “Do you know what we’re doing here?” Seth asked.

  “Why, yes, I believe I do.”

  “Good. Then you know it’s a council meeting and we’re electing those men who will represent the rest of the train.”

  “Mmm, hmm,” Callie responded.