“The Vigilance Committee.”
“Oh, yes, the Vigilance Committee.” Angelia frowned, pausing for a moment. And then, innocently, “And who or what is that, may I ask?”
“The Vigilance Committee? Aw, it’s some of the men on the caravan—we’s made ourselves into the law here, since there ain’t none but us.”
“Oh. Interesting. And are you elected officials?”
“I am.”
“But only you?”
“Yes.”
“Well, I see how it is then.” She cleared her throat. “Now, Mr. Russell, is this order in writing? That all females traveling on wagon trains are not allowed to talk to Indians?”
“Well, no, ma’am, it ain’t. But the way we sees it?—”
“Ah. If it’s not written, then…it’s not some law of the land?”
He shook his head.
“Well, I don’t know why I should follow it then. The good Lord knows there is no such commandment in the Bible.”
“The Bible? But?—”
“Now, my father is a minister,” she interrupted to say, “and I was always taught that we are all God’s children. Color of skin, culture doesn’t matter. And thatiswritten. Besides, educating the Indians might bring about better understanding between us, and that would be advantageous to us all, don’t you agree?” She smiled amicably.
For an instant, the wagon master stared at her as though she might be as alien as this land over which they traversed.
After a short pause, she went on to say, “In truth, Mr. Russell, it sounds to me as if you and the others are worried over nothing but a little nasty gossip.”
For such a sweetly stated remark, Mr. Russell surely appeared shocked. Recovering quickly, he stuttered out, “M-Ma’am?”
“If it will set your mind at ease, go ahead and tell Mr. Hudson and the rest of the folks who are worried that I’ll be more than happy to cook for Mr. Hudson, his children and his mother. It will be my pleasure. However, please be certain to tell Mr. Hudson that I am not looking for a wedding or a family in the bargain.”
The wagon master didn’t say a word, simply stared at her.
“Also, just so you and I are straight on a few things, Mr.Russell, I am probably more afraid of Mr. Hudson and his mother than I am of any Indian on this train.”
Mr. Russell grunted. “If’n it was up to me, I wouldna have them Injuns as part of this outfit. Then there wouldna be this problem. But on this trail, they’s necessary.”
“Yes, they are, and I suppose that’s my point. The way I see it, you—meaning of course yourself and the others on the caravan—are going to expect these Indians—the ones who are scouting for us—to hunt food for us, lead us to water, scout out enemy tribes and keep the caravan safe from attack. That’s true enough, isn’t it?”
“I reckon so, though it’s the duty of us all to keep the wagon train safe.”
“Yes, that’s a good point. That’s true.” She smiled. “But, as I understand it, you also expect my brother and the Indians to fight with you and defend you against not only the elements, but against animals and foes, as well? To give their lives for you, if need be?”
Mr. Russell paused, as if reluctant to agree or disagree. However, after only a sight hesitation, he said, “Yes, ma’am. That’s true enough, I suppose. But see here, they…they ain’t like us. They’s heathens, and being such, they?—”
“And my brother and the Indians will be expected to defend the women and the men if need be, fight side by side?”
Pulling his hat from his head, Russell glanced down at it, then began to fiddle with its brim in his hands. “Yes, but it’s their duty.”
“Well, then, if that be the case, I should think it would bemyduty, as well as every other woman’s and every other man’s duty on this wagon train, to make all the scouts, whether they’re white or Indian, feel comfortable and welcome. Seems only fair to me, that if they’re expected to give their lives forus, then the least we can do is be civil to them.”
“Ma’am?”
“Please understand, I am willing to have Mr. Hudson’sprotection. I’m willing to cook for him and his family, as well. But I must admit that I am shocked that you have listened to gossip about me and acted on it without first seeking my own opinion and confronting me with what has been said.” She hesitated, casting a deliberately hard glance at the man. If Mr. Russell noticed, he did nothing to show it—perhaps he was too busy fiddling with his hat. So she continued, “I do think it unfair that you would represent the others in the caravan…” she smiled again, this time sweetly, then added rather dramatically, “…and not me.”
