morning.
‘Reckon I can,’ Calamity answered. ‘Only those do-dads are marked “Tradle,” ’ she pronounced the word to rhyme with ‘saddle,’ ‘and everybody calls you “Tray-dell!” So I figured they couldn’t be yours.’
Fortunately, the colonel’s wife was present and had been out West long enough to have lost her preconceived ideas of superiority; and plenty long enough to read danger signs without needing spectacles.
‘Now leave Calamity to handle the baggage, Eileen,’ she said, stepping forward. ‘It couldn’t be in better hands. I talked with Dobe Killem last night and he left you a space in the front of Calamity’s wagon. I’ve had a camp-bed rigged in it and all you’ll need.’
‘Thank you, Monica,’ Eileen answered. ‘I suppose she is competent?’
Again Eileen had more luck than she deserved, for Calamity had never heard the word ‘competent’ and did not know what it meant. The Colonel’s wife did know and hurried to assure Eileen that Calamity was quite competent.
‘You couldn’t be in better hands,’ she finished.
‘Lay hold of those fancy do-dads, boys,’ Calamity said. ‘And don’t scratch ‘em up, they belong to a lady.’
‘That woman is insufferable!’ Eileen gasped as Calamity and the men walked away with her baggage.
‘She probably feels the same way about you, although I don’t think she’d express it in that way.’
‘She’s—she’s——’
‘She’s unique,’ the colonel’s wife replied. ‘There’s only one Calamity Jane, my dear.’
‘I would imagine that was one too many,’ Eileen sniffed.
‘Look, Eileen.’ said the older woman, laying a hand on the other’s sleeve. ‘This isn’t Boston. People out here don’t care that you come from the best Back Bay stock, that your father is a Congressman and that you have two uncles who are generals. It’s what you are that counts with a girl like Calamity. I don’t often give advice, except to young wives going out to their first frontier post, but I’d advise you to make friends with Calamity. You could learn a lot.’
‘I’ll remember your advice,’ Eileen promised coldly.
‘I doubt it,’ smiled the colonel’s wife. ‘Goodbye, my dear, and good luck—you’ll probably need it.’
Stiff-backed and tight-lipped, Eileen stamped off after her baggage. Nor did her annoyance lessen when she found Molly Johnson standing by the side of the wagon into which her belongings were being loaded.
‘Asked Molly here to ride with us this morning,’ Calamity remarked in a tone which implied she did not give a damn whether Eileen objected or not.
‘If you think there won’t be room, I’ll go back to my own wagon, Mrs. Tradle.’ Molly remarked, being more susceptible than Calamity to atmosphere and realising Eileen did not approve.
‘Shucks, there’s more’n room for the three of us on my wagon,’ Calamity put in. ‘Ain’t none of us that fat. Hop aboard, gals, and we’ll be all set to roll.’
Turning, Eileen stared up at the wagon’s box and found it to be higher than she imagined. Of course, the other wagon had been high, but supplied a step-ladder to allow her to mount. She watched Calamity climb the spokes of the front wheel and hop lightly aboard.
‘Here, Molly, take hold!’ Calamity ordered, extending her hand to the little blonde, then glared at the freighters who hung around in the hope of seeing a well-turned ankle. ‘Get the hell to your wagons or I’ll peel the stinking hides offen you.’
Which caused a rapid departure for the men knew better than to cross their Calamity at such a moment. Molly, with Calamity’s help, made the climb on to the box and took her seat. Being on her dignity, Eileen declined assistance.
‘I’ll manage,’ she stated as Calamity offered a none-too-clean hand.
‘It’s your notion, not mine,’ replied Calamity calmly and sat down.
Eileen tried to climb aboard without help, but could not manage it. However her pride refused
‘Reckon I can,’ Calamity answered. ‘Only those do-dads are marked “Tradle,” ’ she pronounced the word to rhyme with ‘saddle,’ ‘and everybody calls you “Tray-dell!” So I figured they couldn’t be yours.’
Fortunately, the colonel’s wife was present and had been out West long enough to have lost her preconceived ideas of superiority; and plenty long enough to read danger signs without needing spectacles.
‘Now leave Calamity to handle the baggage, Eileen,’ she said, stepping forward. ‘It couldn’t be in better hands. I talked with Dobe Killem last night and he left you a space in the front of Calamity’s wagon. I’ve had a camp-bed rigged in it and all you’ll need.’
‘Thank you, Monica,’ Eileen answered. ‘I suppose she is competent?’
Again Eileen had more luck than she deserved, for Calamity had never heard the word ‘competent’ and did not know what it meant. The Colonel’s wife did know and hurried to assure Eileen that Calamity was quite competent.
‘You couldn’t be in better hands,’ she finished.
‘Lay hold of those fancy do-dads, boys,’ Calamity said. ‘And don’t scratch ‘em up, they belong to a lady.’
‘That woman is insufferable!’ Eileen gasped as Calamity and the men walked away with her baggage.
‘She probably feels the same way about you, although I don’t think she’d express it in that way.’
‘She’s—she’s——’
‘She’s unique,’ the colonel’s wife replied. ‘There’s only one Calamity Jane, my dear.’
‘I would imagine that was one too many,’ Eileen sniffed.
‘Look, Eileen.’ said the older woman, laying a hand on the other’s sleeve. ‘This isn’t Boston. People out here don’t care that you come from the best Back Bay stock, that your father is a Congressman and that you have two uncles who are generals. It’s what you are that counts with a girl like Calamity. I don’t often give advice, except to young wives going out to their first frontier post, but I’d advise you to make friends with Calamity. You could learn a lot.’
‘I’ll remember your advice,’ Eileen promised coldly.
‘I doubt it,’ smiled the colonel’s wife. ‘Goodbye, my dear, and good luck—you’ll probably need it.’
Stiff-backed and tight-lipped, Eileen stamped off after her baggage. Nor did her annoyance lessen when she found Molly Johnson standing by the side of the wagon into which her belongings were being loaded.
‘Asked Molly here to ride with us this morning,’ Calamity remarked in a tone which implied she did not give a damn whether Eileen objected or not.
‘If you think there won’t be room, I’ll go back to my own wagon, Mrs. Tradle.’ Molly remarked, being more susceptible than Calamity to atmosphere and realising Eileen did not approve.
‘Shucks, there’s more’n room for the three of us on my wagon,’ Calamity put in. ‘Ain’t none of us that fat. Hop aboard, gals, and we’ll be all set to roll.’
Turning, Eileen stared up at the wagon’s box and found it to be higher than she imagined. Of course, the other wagon had been high, but supplied a step-ladder to allow her to mount. She watched Calamity climb the spokes of the front wheel and hop lightly aboard.
‘Here, Molly, take hold!’ Calamity ordered, extending her hand to the little blonde, then glared at the freighters who hung around in the hope of seeing a well-turned ankle. ‘Get the hell to your wagons or I’ll peel the stinking hides offen you.’
Which caused a rapid departure for the men knew better than to cross their Calamity at such a moment. Molly, with Calamity’s help, made the climb on to the box and took her seat. Being on her dignity, Eileen declined assistance.
‘I’ll manage,’ she stated as Calamity offered a none-too-clean hand.
‘It’s your notion, not mine,’ replied Calamity calmly and sat down.
Eileen tried to climb aboard without help, but could not manage it. However her pride refused
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