Unconquerable Callie (8 page)

“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.

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.

Just as she’d decided it was worth being jarred to pieces by riding in the wagon, giving her feet and Charlie a break, one of the men from a wagon up ahead came hurrying toward them, his face wreathed in smiles.

“Spied the Missouri.” The few words were like magic. The tiredness washed from Callie’s body and her feet felt lighter, able to cover the remaining distance with ease. Caleb grinned back at her as he grabbed Charlie up and hoisted him to his shoulders.

“Cry out when you see it, Charlie,” Caleb said, hooking his hands around Charlie’s skinny legs.

Charlie’s back stiffened. “I’m a scout, Caleb. Just like Mr. Henry. You’re my horse, huh, Caleb?” The boy giggled.

Caleb’s whinny and accompanying hop-skip was all Charlie needed to send him into peals of laughter.

A sense of serenity coursed through Callie. She laughed at Caleb’s antics and Charlie’s enjoyment of his new role and steed.

In the distance, Callie saw a rider approaching the train. He was too far off to distinguish, but Callie knew it was Seth. She swallowed down the flutter in her throat and told herself her she was only looking forward to hearing his news, and to circling the wagons for the night.

Within minutes, the dusty man pulled up alongside her. He took off his hat and swatted it against his leg. His horse was lathered and the smell of sweat and horseflesh filled her nose. The animal’s sides heaved with each breath.

Callie stepped to the side and her wagon rumbled past. She didn’t break the silence, waiting for Seth to catch his breath. Then the high-pitched voice of Charlie rang out, bringing a smile to Callie’s and the tired man’s face.

“I see it. I see it. Callie!” Charlie cried out, turning around on Caleb’s shoulders to find her. “Callie, I see the Missouri. I see it for us, don’t I?”

“You sure do, Charlie,” Callie called back. “You are an excellent scout.”

Charlie’s head bobbed and he turned back, pleased with his accomplishment.

“New scout?” Seth asked, smiling down at her.

“Just hired him on today,” Callie joked. “He’s dependable and has keen eyesight.”

“That’s important.” His tender look made their conversation irrelevant. A cocoon of silence wrapped around them, blocking out anything or anyone else.

Then he gently nudged his horse forward with his heels. And, touching his fingers to his hat, he gruffly said, “I’ll see you after supper.”

The sun moved behind a cloud in the cloudless sky as he rode down the trail. He’d taken the sunshine with him, and a maybe a piece of her heart.