Unconquerable Callie by DeAnn Smallwood Page B

It’s a job, but I’ve done it before, and it works. Everyone will have to pitch in.” He scanned the circle. “The children can help make the wax paste and put it in the open spaces in the wooden planks. If you have animal skins, use them to cover the inside to make the wagon even more waterproof.”
    Callie stood up. “It’ll float, Mr. McCallister?”
    “It’ll float, Callie.” Somewhere between allowing her to join the council and the cookie target, Seth had dropped the “Miss Collins.” Callie wasn’t sure if he was aware of the informality, but she was and it warmed her.
    “You take off the wheels and push the wagon into the water.” For a moment, he spoke only to her.
    Then, raising his eyes to the others, he said, “Just like a flat boat. Children and women can ride inside the wagon. Each wagon will need two or three men to ride inside also and steer it with long poles. We’ll need others to ride horses along in the water and steer it from the outside.”
    He paused, clearing his throat.
    “I’m not telling you this is an easy, fast way.” His voice was flat. “It can take an hour for each wagon to cross. There’s also the chance the wagon will tip over and you’ll lose everything in the river. If the current is strong and flowing fast, a wagon could be dragged away and we won’t be able to catch it. There’s risk, but there’s also the chance it’ll float right on across like a clumsy boat.”
    “Take a minute, talk over your options, then let me know. Don’t worry about the time it takes to cross. I planned on us losing some time here, at least a couple days. I’m hoping we can cross in a day, then take a day to rest. I imagine by now the ladies have some washing to do.” Heads nodded. “We need to replenish our water supplies, too. After crossing the Missouri, we’ll have some dry spots and you’ll need all the water you have, maybe more.” His words hung like rain clouds in the sky. Then the deluge came. “After we cross the Missouri into Nebraska, we’ll be entering Indian territory.” Seth walked over to a coffee pot, and refilled his cup. The sweet Missouri air became saturated with a foreboding chill.
    Callie walked over to him. Behind her, families discussed their options. For many, there were only two to be considered. There was little money to spare and if the crossing could be accomplished another way, then that’s how it would be.
    “Mr. McCallister,” Callie said quietly.
    He turned. “Yes?” he asked, his eyes warm and questioning.
    “I’ve made my decision.”
    Seth inclined his head. A lantern hanging on the end of a wagon cast its yellow glow over the man, burnishing his dark hair and bringing a luster to his tanned face.
    Callie caught her breath. The feelings inside her were not possible. Not possible and not permitted. She pushed them aside and said, “I’ll pay the fifty cents and load my wagon onto a scow. I’d like to do the same for the Monroe’s.”
    “Jacob Monroe agreeable?” Seth’s words cut to the point.
    “I don’t know,” Callie answered slowly. “I haven’t asked.”
    “Better,” Seth said firmly. Then in a softer voice, he added, “He’s a proud man, Callie. Might rankle him to have his way paid.”
    “By a woman?” she countered.
    “Nope. By anyone.” Seth’s laconic reply eased the irritation she was feeling.
    “Okay. I’ll talk to him. Mr. McCallister, if at all possible, I’d like my wagon to be the first to cross.”
    “Why’s that?” A chill crept into Seth’s voice. Callie’s selfish request disappointed him. He was coming to admire and care for this woman too much. And if there wasn’t a fiancé . . . but there was, and he’d do well to remember that.
    “Because, once I’ve got my wagon safely on the other side, I’ll be free to help the others. I can fill cracks for those deciding to float their wagon across. I can also help pole and guide a wagon on a raft. You’ll need all hands and help you can