The Handsomest Man in the Country Read Free Page B

wasn't ready to give any man the time of day and the condescending way Calvert had treated me when I'd just been a bundle of clothes walking along didn't make me take kindly to him.
    I had a hill-person's suspicion of anyone dressed up too fancy. Especially one who had about run me down one morning because I hadn't stepped out of his way quick enough.
    "No, he didn't, but that's not what I was muttering about."
    "What then?"
    "Oh, Web told me to cover my hair up. It's going to be a long trip if I have to wear this old scarf the whole way. He says it'll cause trouble."
    "Uh huh."
    "What'd you think, Uncle Dem?"
    "I agree. That hair is like a red blanket to a bull. You'll have all the young bucks, white and red, swarming around this wagon."
    "Do you think I must cover it like Web says?"
    "Mallory, Web don't give no orders unless there's a mighty big reason to give them. You do as he says."
    "All right, but I hate that heavy scarf."
    "Ask Edith for one of her sunbonnets."
    "That'll only cover the top part."
    "Then wear a loose shawl or jacket and tuck in the rest of your hair."
    "Good. I'll do it. But just 'cause you think I should."
    I started to crawl back into the wagon when Dem called me back. "Mallory." I waited for what he had to say. "Anything happen to me...you go to Web for advice. He knows the country out here and how to survive in it. But even more important, he can read men. He's mighty choosy who he calls friend."
    Web was Uncle Dem's friend. I had seen them laughing together. "He can read men?" I asked.
    "Yes. For instance, we all chose Burt Hayes to lead us, but Duncan Ashley would have been a better choice...or even Gunther."
    "What's wrong with Mr. Hayes?" Aunt Edith asked. She had finished the work she was doing, putting all the morning things away, and moved out to sit next to Uncle Dem. She had heard the part about the sunbonnet and had one in her hand. I took it and put it on, wondering how he would answer her question. Mr. Hayes had done fine so far; I had thought everyone pleased with his leadership.
    "There's no give to him. A leader has to have a little give, a little mercy in some cases. I can't see any of that in Burt. The point is I didn't notice that when we elected him. It seemed a fine thing to have a military officer leading us. Web just shook his head and didn't say anything; he would've if we'd asked."
    It wasn't going to help us any, bemoaning the fact now. He sure had a lot of give to him when he let Elliot get off with treating his horses like he did. Or maybe Elliot's rough treatment of his stock was just an extension of his father's nature. That could be it.
    It could also answer for the way Hannah acted. She was Mr. Hayes' wife, a quiet, subdued person, afraid of stepping outdoors lessen she had his permission. I had thought it just her nature, but now wondered what she'd been like before he married her.
    Uncle Dem had been eyeing the low mounds of dirt we were passing more and more often, some with makeshift crosses on them, others simply a heap of stones. A lot of things could kill a person out in this country. River crossings, snake bite, accidents with guns or axes, as well as Indians.
    Two days ago we'd passed a huge group of such mounds near the remains of a train, the burned wagons still carrying the smell of smoke. The unfortunate victims had been buried by another train passing through ahead of us, the earth so fresh it had just started to crust over. No one spoke as we passed through, but the warning was there for all to see.
    Only a fool would think that he could live forever; and out here one began to feel quick-like, that unless he took care, he wouldn't last until the next week.
    There was a big commotion going on up further along the wagons and Uncle Dem kept looking forward to see what it was all about, but a slight dip in the prairie hid all but the two nearest wagons from us. We were the last in line and were looking forward to being the leaders tomorrow. Cordell Knast's