Читать книгу Wagon Train Cinderella - Shirley Kennedy - Страница 7

Sleeping arrangements in the Whitaker family were tight at best. Ma, Pa, and Tommy slept in one wagon. Len and Andy slept in the other. Lydia and Nellie occupied the tent Pa erected nightly. The first week of their trek, Callie had slept underneath Ma and Pa’s wagon. She hadn’t minded because the weather was warm. In fact, she’d preferred it to listening to her stepsisters’ constant chatter. When the nights had turned nippy, she’d begun sleeping in the tent. Lydia and Nellie weren’t happy about sharing but had no choice.

That night, when Callie entered the tent, the glow from their neighbors’ campfire still lit the sky. The merry sounds of a fiddle and occasional bursts of laughter wafted from across the meadow. She expected Nellie and Lydia would be sound asleep, as they sometimes were by the time she got to bed, but not tonight. To her surprise, both were wide awake, sitting atop their blankets, changed into fresh dresses, and in a state of suppressed excitement.

“Shh!” Nellie put her finger to her lips. “Don’t you say a word, Callie Whitaker. Are they still awake?”

Callie sat on her blankets. “What are you doing?”

“Just tell me if Ma and Pa are asleep yet.”

“They climbed in the wagon a long time ago, so, yes, I guess they’re asleep.” Florida’s invitation to the campfire. “Didn’t Pa tell you not to go over there?”

In the near darkness, Nellie gave a disdainful sniff. “He won’t find out unless you tell him.”

“I would never.” She wasn’t a tattletale.

“We won’t be gone long,” said Nellie. “Just you keep your mouth shut.”

“Maybe we should take her with us,” whispered Lydia. “Then if we’re caught, Pa will most likely blame her.”

“Good idea. You’re coming with us.”

Callie opened her mouth to protest but closed it before she could get the words out. Why shouldn’t she go? She’d love to visit Florida, who seemed so jolly and friendly, compared to Ma, who could see nothing good in anything. Pa would be furious if he found out, but he was a heavy sleeper. The chances he’d wake up and discover them missing were slim. Besides, if he did find out, what would he do? As a child, she had lived in fear of the sting of a switch on her legs for the least wrongdoing. So had all the children of Calvin Whitaker, the two older boys receiving the most severe beatings. The switchings had stopped when she’d reached adulthood, but she still feared him. His thundering threats of eternal damnation still struck terror in her heart. She’d risk it, though. The more she thought, the more she wanted to join the laughter and excitement across the meadow. Would Luke McGraw be there? Not that he’d pay her the slightest attention, but still, she liked the idea of seeing him again.

“All right. I’ll go with you.” She’d worry about eternal damnation later.

Unlike her stepsisters, she owned only two dresses. The one she wore, a limp, worn hand-me-down of Nellie’s, was far too big. She’d just washed the other, which was just as shabby, so she had no choice but to wear what she had on.

Hardly breathing, the three crept from the tent and crossed the field. When they reached the Ferguson train, they cut between two of the wagons in the circle and headed for the large campfire that blazed in the middle. A lively scene awaited. Around the fire, people sat on crates, boxes, and camp chairs, chatting and laughing. Two men with scraggly beards passed a jug back and forth. A sprightly fiddler danced as he played a polka, while several couples bounced and bounded around the bonfire to the lively tune.

Florida Sawyer gestured to them to come sit next to her on a long log by the fire. “Hello, girls. Come on over! Glad you could come. Where’s your Ma? Did she change her mind?”

Lydia snickered. “Not exactly.”

Nellie added, “We sneaked out. Don’t tell Pa.”

Florida grinned. “I reckon you girls are old enough to know what you’re doing.” She glanced around the campfire. “Luke?” When he didn’t appear, she shook her head. “That brother of mine isn’t much for dancing. Keeps to himself too much.” She looked toward a tall man standing nearby who’d been listening. “Thank heaven, here’s someone I’d wager will be glad to dance with you. This is the leader of our wagon train, Magnus Ferguson. We call him The Colonel.”

Magnus stepped forward and gave them a warm greeting. Callie was struck with how handsome he was. Tall and powerfully built, he had a thick head of blond, curly hair and a strong-featured, clean-shaven face, an appearance she much preferred to men who wore wild, unkempt beards. Even had she not been told, she would have guessed Magnus was a leader by the way he carried himself with a commanding air of self-confidence.

Beyond his initial polite greeting, Magnus paid her no attention. He offered his hand to Lydia. “Care to dance, Miss Whitaker?”

“I surely do!” Eyelashes fluttering, Lydia instantly stepped forward. “I do love the polka, Mister Ferguson.”

Callie laughed to herself. Not to her knowledge had Lydia ever danced the polka or anything else.

Magnus took Lydia’s hand and assumed the correct position for a polka. How could her stepsister possibly manage? She needn’t have worried. When they started out, Lydia hesitated, nearly stumbled, but then caught on to the step. The couple bounced away, Lydia looking as if she’d danced the polka all her life. How pretty she looked, her blue eyes bright, her long, blond hair swinging about her rosy-cheeked face.

“She sure is a pretty girl.” Florida regarded Nellie and Callie, who sat beside her. “You need dance partners, too. Let’s see…” Her gaze scanned the crowd. A young man spied them and headed in their direction. Florida made a face. “Oh, no, not him.”

The young man strutted up. In his early twenties, he was tall, dark, and clean-shaven with slick good looks. His gaze focused on Nellie. “Don’t believe I’ve seen you before. Introduce us, Florida.”

“Nellie, this here is Coy Barnett. He’s one of Jack Gowdy’s hired hands.” Florida’s voice lacked her usual warm enthusiasm. Callie sensed she didn’t much care for the young man who stood before them. Nellie seemed not to notice. When Coy asked her to dance, she eagerly said yes.

Watching the couple join in a cotillion, Florida frowned. “You’d best keep an eye on your stepsister.”

“Why?”

“I don’t trust the man. Don’t ask me why, I just…there’s something about him I don’t like.” She brightened and got her smile back. “Now we need to find you a dancing partner.”

“Goodness, no.” Callie hadn’t given the slightest thought that she, too, might enjoy a dance. “Don’t worry about me. I’m content to sit here and watch.”

“Fiddlesticks.”

Despite Florida’s protest, no one asked Callie to dance. Not that she minded. She knew no man would want to dance with a straggled-haired girl in a ragged old dress. It was just a treat to be with people who were laughing and enjoying themselves.

After a time, another partner whisked Lydia away. Magnus Ferguson soon returned, all congenial, with a big smile on his face. “You haven’t danced yet, Miss Whitaker? Would you like to—?”

“I don’t care to dance.” She wasn’t a charity case.

He didn’t pursue the subject but sat down beside her. They chatted. He’d been a merchant back in Pennsylvania where he came from. Successful, she gathered, although he didn’t say. He was a widower, his wife having died in childbirth two years ago, and the baby, too. Wanting to start a new life and escape old memories, he had formed this wagon train and had been elected leader. Unlike other companies headed west, peace and harmony prevailed in the Ferguson wagon train, thanks to himself and his five-man council, called captains. So far, not a single dispute. “Your family ought to join us.”

She reluctantly shook her head. “I doubt Pa would want to do that.”

Magnus said no more on the subject. They talked a while longer before someone came with a problem and drew him away. What a nice man. She was grateful he’d taken the time to sit and talk to her. He seemed anxious to marry again. He wouldn’t have a problem. A well-to-do widower like Magnus could easily find a wife, especially since he wasn’t half bad-looking.

The music still played. Tired of sitting, she left the bonfire and dancers and went for a short stroll around the camp. Passing one of the wagons, she spied Luke McGraw occupying the wagon seat. In the bright moonlight, he was dressed no differently than the other men in a plain shirt, dark trousers, and sturdy boots. He appeared to be cleaning a rifle.

He looked up. “Good evening.”

She nodded and kept on walking.

He gazed down at her. “So it’s you. Not dancing?”

She stopped. “I don’t know how to dance.”

“Sorry I asked.”

“Why aren’t you dancing?”

“I’ve got better things to do with my time.”

“Is this your wagon?”

“It’s my sister’s. A bedroll’s good enough for me.” He rested the rifle against the seat. “Florida won’t give up and leave me alone. If it was up to her, I’d spend every evening charming the ladies.”

She couldn’t resist. “From what I’ve seen, there’s not much danger of that.”

He chuckled, climbed down from the wagon seat and stood before her, hands resting casually on his hips. “Why are you traveling by yourselves?”

Because Pa won’t listen to reason. “Because my stepfather feels we can make the journey alone without any help. He doesn’t get along well with other people.”

“I can understand why he feels that way. When you throw people from all walks of life together in a wagon train, there’s bound to be trouble of one sort or another.”

She remembered her conversation with Magnus. “According to Colonel Ferguson, there’s peace and harmony in this wagon train, no disputes.”

Luke broke into laughter. “Magnus Ferguson is a fool. Even so, with all the dangers of the trail, it’s not a good idea to travel alone.”

“Tell that to my pa, not me. We do what he says, and that’s that.”

“Maybe so, but people change on these journeys. No one ends up exactly the same.”

“He’s not likely to change his mind.”

He remained silent. She must be boring him to death. She wished she could think of something bubbly and amusing to say like Lydia would do, but nothing came to mind. He’d leave at any moment.

The fiddler in the distance ceased his playing and announced, “That’s all for tonight, folks.”

“I’d better go.” She started away. “Good night, Mister McGraw.”

“I’ll walk you back.”

In silence, they returned to the gathering where Florida was sitting. Lydia and Nellie returned, breathless from dancing. “I’m so glad I came,” said Lydia. Seeing Luke, she gave him a dazzling smile. “Mister McGraw, they tell me you’re acting as guide for this wagon train. I do so wish we could join you. Do you think you could speak to my pa?”

“Your pa made it clear—”

“You could try, couldn’t you? Please? We had so much fun tonight.”

“Please?” Nellie echoed.

Callie listened with disgust. She hated it when her stepsisters got that whiney tone in their voices.

Florida said, “I hate to say it, girls, but your father strikes me as a man who doesn’t often change his mind.”

Lydia pouted. “It’s not safe to travel alone. Mister McGraw said so.”

Magnus appeared. “Luke’s right.” He gazed at Lydia with admiring eyes. “Tell you what I’ll do. I’ll talk to your father in the morning.”

Lydia clasped her hands together. “Wonderful! I’m sure you can persuade him.” Her face clouded. “You won’t tell him we were here tonight?”

“Your secret’s safe with us, honey.” Florida looked toward her brother. “You’d better go along with Magnus tomorrow. If anyone can describe the dangers of the trail, it’s you.”

Luke shook his head. “Magnus can manage just fine.”

A pang of disappointment shot through Callie’s heart. Magnus could never persuade her stubborn stepfather to join this wagon train. How wonderful it would be if he could. She’d make friends with all these nice people, have fun at the campfires, not feel so alone all the time. No use thinking about it, though. Pa would never change his mind.

Lydia was still fawning over Magnus. “It’s been a delightful evening, Mr. Ferguson. We’ll expect you in the morning.” She looked toward Nellie. “Time to go. Are you coming?”

Callie watched her stepsisters start away. Lydia finally remembered and looked back. “Callie, I hardly noticed you sitting there, quiet as a mouse. Well, you’d better come along right now. You know how early you’ve got to get up tomorrow to start breakfast.”

* * * *

Luke watched the three young women head back across the meadow. Lydia—pretty but not a brain in her head. Nellie—passably pretty if she smiled more and lost that permanent pout. Callie—poor creature, so obviously beaten down and made to feel inferior by the entire Whitaker family. She wasn’t pretty…well, maybe she could be if she didn’t have that work-worn look about her, like she lived in fear of not getting her chores done. Her figure wasn’t bad. Despite that poorly fitting dress, he could tell that like Lydia, she had a good-sized bosom, tiny waist and slender hips. Nice face if it wasn’t so pale and strained all the time. She should laugh more. Even her hair wouldn’t look so bad if she didn’t have it all pulled back in a scraggly bun, like she couldn’t bother to spend more than a couple of seconds fixing it each morning.

Something about her intrigued him. What it was, he didn’t know. It didn’t matter because Caleb Whitaker had chosen to take the long journey alone. Beyond tomorrow, he’d never see any of them again. What a fool Caleb was, but that was his choice.

Maybe I will go along with Magnus in the morning even though it won’t do any good.