Seth’s jaw clenched. Measuring each word carefully, he slowly asked, “If you know it’s an election of men chosen to represent each council meeting, why, may I ask, are you here?” His voice rose slightly on the last few words.
“Why,” Callie smiled beatifically. “I’m here to represent the women.”
“You’re what?” Seth barked the question.
Like a hive of mad hornets, the buzzing started around the circle. Callie caught words and snatches. “She’s doing what?” “Women? She’s gonna represent the women?” “Mr. McCallister, did you hear . . .” “Never heard of such a thing.” “Ain’t no place for her.”
“I’m representing the women,” Callie repeated, as though only they were present.
“I don’t think so,” Seth muttered. “I’ve had councils, Miss Collins, and believe you me: No woman has ever put in two cents worth.”
“You tell her, Seth,” one of the men said.
“Really?” Instead of being dismayed, Callie appeared excited.
Seth eyed her balefully. “Yes, really,” he said, puzzled by her reaction.
“Why, then I’m the first. Who would have thought it?” She grinned. “The very first, my, my.” Tilting her head and smiling, she happily dug in the basket and again pulled out something and took a large bite, licking her lips in pleasure.
Seth stared. The men stopped talking.
“Well, you can’t,” he started. “Miss Collins . . .”
“Yes, Mr. McCallister,” Callie mumbled through a full mouth.
“You can’t represent the women,” he said half-heartedly, focusing on her munching.
“Why’s that?” Callie asked, unperturbed.
“Because. Because, it just ain’t done. That’s why.” Seth’s statement was met by vigorous nodding.
No response. At that moment, she was busy licking sugar off the tips of her fingers. She glanced up apologetically and wiped her hands on her skirt.
“Miss Collins.” Seth’s body stiffened with the effort to be patient. “May I ask, what in the . . .?” He stifled back an oath. “What are you?” he tried again. “Darn it, Miss Collins, what are you eating?”
“Why, sugar cookies, Mr. McCallister. Warm, just-baked, sugar cookies. Would anyone like one?” She was all-smiling innocence.
“No.” Seth’s bellow was drowned out by a chorus of “Yes’s,” along with a “You bet,” “Darned right,” “Appreciate it, Callie.”
Callie popped to her feet and, with the grace of a grand hostess, opened her sack to every man in the circle. She stopped in front of Seth.
“Please, Mr. McCallister. I really recommend them, unless you don’t like homemade sugar cookies?”
“Course I do. But . . .” Before he could say another word, Callie put a large, warm, cookie into his hand.
She turned her back to the dumbfounded man as he slowly lifted the cookie to his mouth.
“I’ve got plenty for seconds, gentlemen,” Callie said. “As a representative of the women of this train, I take it as my responsibility to see that we have baked refreshments. Would that be agreeable with the council?” She waited, as if the answer were of paramount importance.
“Be more’n all right, Callie. Wouldn’t it, men?” One of the men reached for a second cookie. “You bake cakes, Callie?”
“Mr. Anderson,” Callie addressed the man, “I bake a raisin spice cake that will make your mouth water.”
“Just a minute.” Seth found his voice. “Cakes, cookies, and baking isn’t one of our topics for discussion.” He looked around only to see disappointment on several faces. Jaws were chewing. Tongues were licking.
“Do you men really think it’s in the best interest of the train to have a woman be part of your council?” Seth asked.
Silence.
Finally, one of the men stood up. “Don’t make me no matter. But it should be up to you, Seth. You’re the leader.”
There were mutterings of assent.
Seth sighed. All eyes were on him, especially those of a deep emerald green.
“Mr. McCallister,” Callie said seriously. “I’d like to say something that might help you make your decision. Before long, we will enter Wyoming territory, where women have the vote and women hold positions of importance. Why shouldn’t this wagon train be one of the first to embrace those same rights?”
Seth narrowed his eyes. There were times when you fought and times when you backed down. He looked at the men assembled and saw no discord on their faces. In fact, they seemed downright pleased with the thought of being one of the first to have a woman on the council.
“Okay, Miss Collins,” he said. “I know when I’ve been beaten. Seems you’ve been selected to represent the women on the train. I’ll expect you at council meetings and I’ll expect the same willingness to listen, then comply with my decisions. Just like the men.”
“Of course. I proudly accept this honor, Mr. McCallister. I think you’ll find me a welcome addition to the council. The women of this train need a voice, and I’m pleased to represent them.”
“Yes,” Seth said under his breath. “There’s no doubt you have a voice, Miss Collins. No doubt.”
Callie grinned mischievously as she stepped toward him.
“Another cookie, Mr. McCallister?” She offered up the basket, honey dripping from each word.
Chapter 14
“There were two mistakes made today.” Seth’s voice rang through the assembled council, grabbing everyone’s attention.
“One, you all pushed forward to see what was happening. But few of you had a rifle in your hand. If the bear had charged, how did you expect to be of help, wrestle it down with your bare hands?” He pointed at the men then turned to the lone woman. “Miss Collins, you acted impulsively and put your life at risk. You faced the bear with nothing but your wits. While you saved Tommy’s life, it could have gone the other way. Where was your rifle?
“All of you.” His gaze roamed the circle, landing on each person since he held every one accountable. “All of you, from today on, will have a rifle either in hand or within easy, and I mean easy, reach. Think of it as an extension of your arm.”
“Miss Collins, am I right in understanding you can shoot?”
“I can, Mr. McCallister. I’m accurate, too.” Callie’s face was serious, her answer confident.
“I want you to work with the women. Teach them how to shoot, how to reload. I don’t expect them all to be good shots, but I do expect them to be able to hit a mark. Can you do that?”
“We’ll start tomorrow at noon camp.”
“Fine,” Seth said. “No offense, but I’d like to see you shoot. Do you mind?”
“Now?” A small smile played around her lips.
“Nope,” Seth said. “It’s getting too dark. You’d be at unfair disadvantage.” He smiled, enjoying her bristle.
“Gentlemen,” Callie said, giving Seth a scathing glance, “would a couple of you hang a lantern over there?” She motioned with her head. “That mound of dirt will be a backdrop for safety. Mr. McCallister, I’ll let you place the target wherever you want. You deserve a fair example of my shooting ability.”
Seth grinned. This lady needed taken down a peg. “Miss Collins, it’ll be a pleasure. Sure you don’t want to wait until morning light?”
“I’m not worried if you aren’t, Mr. McCallister. Place the target.”
Seth searched for something suitable. Then with a smirk, he sauntered over to the sack of cookies and took out one.
“I believe this sugar cookie will do just fine.”
The look on her face was reward in itself. Seth complimented himself on his choice and counted off the paces until he was satisfied that while the cookie was a far piece off and small at that, he was giving her a fair chance. A long chance,
but possible, he reasoned.
The men hung the lanterns and Seth handed Callie his rifle.
Callie’s arms dropped with the weight of the rifle.
“How much does this weigh?” she asked, seeming somewhat embarrassed.
“Eight pounds,” Seth said. Suddenly he wasn’t sure this was a good idea. He admired this spunky woman and didn’t want to expose her in front of the men.
“Seems more,” Callie muttered.
Seth leaned in closer and spoke quietly. “Miss Collins, we can do this another time when there’s just you and me? Give you a chance to get used to the feel of the gun.”
“I know how a rifle feels, Mr. McCallister. Yours just seems heavier than mine.”
Seth backed away. Callie had pride; he had to give her that. He didn’t want to see that pride crushed by anyone, especially him. He promised himself he’d find a believable reason for her missing the target.
Callie lifted the rifle to her shoulder.
“Pulls a little to the left,” Seth said softly.
Callie tucked the gun tighter. She knew that if she didn’t hold it snug against her shoulder one of two things could happen, maybe both. The kick of the rifle could knock her on her bottom, or it could bruise her shoulder so bad she wouldn’t be able to lift her arm.
She took a deep breath, and then steadied her breathing, willing her body not to move. Taking her time, she fixed the cookie in the rifle sights at the end of the long barrel. There wasn’t a sound in the clearing. The evening breeze had ceased its whisper and hung quietly from the branches.
People shot rifles different ways. Most shot with one eye closed. Some shot with both eyes open. Callie was the later.
Careful and slow, she pulled the trigger. She could hear an inner voice instructing her never to jerk or squeeze the trigger. Give it a slow, steady pull.
The boom from the gun exploded into the listening night. Slowly, Callie lowered the rifle butt from her shoulder. She stood, and her arm absorbed the recoil. There would be some bruising.
She glanced behind her for Seth. But he wasn’t there. Instead, he strode toward her, the biggest grin on his face, half of the cookie in his hand.
He grabbed her around the waist and, gun and all, swung her in a jubilant circle. “Miss Collins, you done it. You done it.” His voice was full of relief and joy.
“Mr. McCallister.” Callie laughed self-consciously. “I wasn’t sure I would. You’re right. The rifle does pull some. There shouldn’t be any cookie left.”
Seth threw back his head and laughed. “There shouldn’t, huh?” Then, as if realizing that he still held her in his arms, he quickly set her on her feet.
He stepped back and let the men crowd around, laughing and congratulating her.
“Well, men, what do you say? Is Miss Collins qualified to help teach the womenfolk on this train?” The expression on Seth’s face made everyone know exactly how he felt.
Callie laughed upon hearing the positive shouts.
One-by-one, they returned to their seats in the circle, while Seth took his place in the center. Callie felt as though she had gained a family. She welcomed each man as friend and equal. Even Seth McCallister.
“I think that about ends our first council meeting,” Seth said. “There is one other thing we need to agree on. Earlier, I said there were two mistakes made today.”
Heads nodded.
“Well, the second mistake was Tommy wandering away from the train on his own.” Seth hurried on, “I’m not blaming Tommy or his family. Truth of the matter is, I blame myself.”
All eyes fixed on him. Callie noted how more and more the men recognized his leadership.
“I didn’t tell you that no one, no one,” he emphasized, “leaves the protection of the train. Callie, when you and the other women hunt for wood, or buffalo chips as you will, you hunt in groups of two or more. Indians are trained from childhood up how to move quickly and quietly. You won’t even know they’re there. If, uh, nature calls”—he looked away—“uh, go in pairs. One keeps lookout while the other . . . you know what I mean,” he said gruffly.
“Children play in the circle of the wagons,” he continued. “Talk to your wives tonight. Tell them to look everywhere twice. Tell them to have eyes in the back of their heads. And”—he paused—“the same goes for the men. Same precautions. Talk to me later and I’ll tell you of some of the sights I’ve come across. Torturing is a specialty, one of their best traits. I’m not saying all Indians torture and kill, but I am saying don’t wait to find out which type you’re dealing with.” His smile was gone, his words ice in their hearts.
He cleared his throat. “This is their land we’re crossing. I’ve found fair play brings about fair play. In most cases.” He paused again, then said, “Let’s call it a night. Day comes earlier and earlier. I’d like to make the wide crossing of the Missouri tomorrow. I’m hoping we don’t get held up and lose time. We’ll load some wagons on scows if they’re available. We won’t try to cross tomorrow because, by the time we get there, it’ll be too late in the day. Please let everyone know I’d like to have a general meeting in the circle right after evening meal. We’ll discuss the crossing then.”
He gestured toward her. “Miss Collins, thank you for the cookies. I think I speak for all of us when I tell you we sure enjoyed them . . . especially that last one.”
Callie smiled at this enigmatic man. Seth McCallister was like a reflection in a pond, changing from one moment to the next. Hard one minute, then smiling and encouraging, with eyes full of laughter.
Callie knew that she’d picked the best train. She knew Seth McCallister would get them through no matter what the obstacle. He was a man to lean on. The more she saw of Seth McCallister, the more she wanted to get to know the man. Unfortunately, that wouldn’t be possible. The ghost of her absent fiancé, Frank, wouldn’t allow that.
Chapter 15
Early the next morning, the wagon train passed a hill rising up out of the flat grassland. Seth called it Blue Mound, and when Callie and Caleb climbed it, hoping to get a look at what lay ahead, they discovered only miles and miles of more grassland.
Tomorrow lay heavy on Callie’s mind. She hated to admit it, but the prospect of crossing the Missouri worried her. She’d be relieved when it was a thing of the past.
Seth had ridden out at morning light, immediately after calling out his customary ‘Wagon’s Ho.’ He went on ahead to evaluate the crossing site. Callie sensed his preoccupation and knew that getting everyone across safe and sound sat heavy on Seth’s shoulders. Anything could happen. She was beginning to care for the families on the wagon train and a cold chill of apprehension filled her at the thought of anything happening to any of them.
She worried especially about Hattie Benson, who was expecting her second baby anytime. Her husband and four-year-old son, Charles, were making the journey to join up with family settled outside of Oregon City. Hattie’s eyes shone as she blushingly talked about the baby to come and their future home where farmland was plenty. She and Callie were the same age, but Hattie seemed much younger. She’d been raised in a wealthy family and had never been exposed to the difficulties she now faced, had never run a home on her own. She knew nothing about cooking, much less cooking over an open fire. Callie could see that the jolting wagon and discomforts of the trail were wearing on the young woman more and more each day.
Hattie’s husband, John, struggled, too. City bred, he now had to learn skills that many men were born knowing. Unfortunately, this left him little time or patience to cope with Hattie’s insecurities and needs.
Callie and Caleb had taken their little one, Charlie, under their wing, keeping him with them as often as possible so Hattie had time to rest.
Phyllis Monroe was worried about Hattie, too. She and Callie had asked among the women and there was
only one person with midwife skills: Henrietta Widden. Mrs. Widden was old, dirty, and crotchety. She was accompanying her son and daughter-in-law, and was turning out to be more of a burden than a help, doing little around their camp and complaining the rest of the time. It wasn’t that she couldn’t do the work; she just wouldn’t. She liked to be waited on and viewed Becky Widden as her own handmaiden. Becky never complained, and took her mother-in-law’s slovenly ways and continual whining in stride.
Callie shuddered at the thought of Henrietta Widden helping to birth the new baby. Maybe Hattie would have an easy time of it and there would be no need to send for Mrs. Widden at all, but that wasn’t likely. Other women who had had children of their own could be called on for help. However, no one had ever before assisted during a birthing.
Callie reached for her bonnet hanging down the back of her dress, shoving the worries into a dark closet in the back of her mind. The slight breeze felt good on her bare head and she resented having her head encased in the confines of a bonnet. She’d listened to Seth’s warning about her hair or more to the point the tempting color of her hair, and had tried to comply with his demands to keep it covered. Still, she’d like to see him tie a hot bonnet on his head. The image made her smile. Ramrod stiff Seth McCallister in a bonnet. Not likely.
Tucking the mass of cloud-white hair into the bonnet, out of sight, Callie gave a pent-up sigh. She’d been walking for hours and her feet hurt. The new boots were taking longer to break in than she’d thought.
The wagons were going to stop and rest only an hour for the noon break. Everyone was hoping to see the Missouri River by late afternoon. Callie had to make herself stop looking ahead. The endless stretch of the trail discouraged her.
She’d checked on Hattie and came away less than reassured. If anything, Hattie looked paler, more drawn. Callie brought Charlie back with her, smiling as his short legs tried to keep up with Caleb’s long strides. He was a tough little boy and would do well in this untamed land. His mother, Callie mused, was another story.
Unconquerable Callie Page 8
