Neither had he. Were they waiting around the last bend, making sure he didn’t get another look at them? Why the secrecy? What were they trying to hide?
And what had drawn them out this way?
Callie kept her head high as they rolled into Seattle. She’d been a little concerned about the men Sutter had spotted on the road, but the pair had never caught up with them. Obviously bored, Frisco and Sutter had curled themselves in Ma’s quilts.
They perked up as Levi guided the horses down Second Avenue. Callie wished she could be as excited. New buildings crowded either side of the wide, muddy street, signs overhead showing pictures of boots, hats and a mortar and pestle. Men in a variety of garb, from fine wool coats and high-crowned hats to rough trousers and tweed caps, moved among the shops, boots clomping on the boardwalk. The few ladies among them walked with bonnets covering their hair and cloaks covering their swaying skirts. Callie’s hand went to finger her lank locks spilling out below her hat. It had been too cold the last few weeks to take a bath and wash her hair, even if she’d felt it fair to ask her brothers to lug enough water from the creek.
Many of the people were glancing their way with curious looks. She could almost hear their whispers.
There go those wild Murphy brats.
Someone ought to teach them better.
They shouldn’t be allowed near civilized folk.
“We gonna get that sarsaparilla, preacher?” Frisco asked, leaning over the edge of the wagon as if ready to dive into the mud of the street to escape.
“You sit back down,” Callie ordered before Levi could answer. “I won’t have you causing trouble.”
Frisco heaved another sigh and threw himself once more among the quilts.
“We should rest the horses,” Levi told her. He nodded ahead to one of the few brick buildings she’d seen. “Why don’t we stop at the Pastry Emporium?”
Immediately her brothers chorused their support, rousing Mica, who beamed at them all as if delighted to wake in such company.
Callie eyed the building with its green-and-white-striped awning over the wide front window, the bright painted sign overhead. A lady in a bow-spangled dress was just entering.
“Looks mighty fancy to me,” Callie told him. “I doubt they’d want our business.”
Levi raised his brows. “I assure you, Miss Murphy, the owner Maddie Haggerty has seen far worse than two eager boys. She’s an old friend of the family.”
Oh, but he moved in fine circles. First a whole town, now a prosperous Seattle business owner. Callie hefted Mica close as Levi drew the horses to the hitching post and jumped down to tie them. As Frisco and Sutter ran to press their noses to the sparkling glass of the front window, Levi held out his arms to Callie. “Coming, Miss Murphy?”
Callie faced front. “I’ll wait here. Someone should watch the wagon.”
Out of the corners of her eyes she saw his arms fall. “That shouldn’t be necessary. We’ll only be inside a short while, and we can see the wagon from the window.”
Callie hunched her shoulders. “We’re carrying all our worldly goods, preacher. I ain’t taking chances.”
“On anything, it seems,” he said.
Callie shot him a look. The sun glinted on the golden curls against his forehead, made the blue of his eyes sparkle nearly as much as the clear glass window. Still, she couldn’t let his sweet looks sway her. “I came this far, didn’t I?”
He took a step back, holding up his hands as if in surrender. “As you like, Miss Murphy. The boys and I will only be a moment.” Turning, he strode for the door, her brothers on either side.
Callie sighed. She shouldn’t have been so hard on him. He was only being kind. He wasn’t used to having people judge him. In her experience, ministers were the ones who generally led the judging.
As if to comfort her, Mica cuddled closer. Callie rested her cheek against the baby’s silky hair. At least Mica didn’t complain. She’d made do with goat’s milk after her mother had died, opened her mouth eagerly for whatever mashed fruit, vegetable or grain Callie could manage after the goat escaped. She laughed and wiggled through every rough diaper, every tepid bath.
“And if that diamond ring turns to brass,” Callie sang, rocking her gently, “Mama’s gonna buy you a looking glass.”
Mica sighed happily.
“Pardon me, ma’am.”
Callie looked up to find a fellow on horseback next to the wagon. His hat was as black as the horse, his eyes only a shade or two brighter. The planes of his face were hard. A shiver went through her, and Callie swallowed.
Seeing he had her attention, he nodded. “I know those horses, but I don’t know you.”
She was not about to be accused of horse thievery. Callie narrowed her eyes at him before turning to stare straight ahead. “Don’t much care what you know, mister. I advise you to ride on.”
He didn’t even shift in the saddle, and his voice came out cold. “I’m afraid I can’t do that until you tell me how you came by James Wallin’s horses.”
Callie glanced his way. One hand had strayed closer to the gun at his hip. She stiffened, arms tightening around Mica. She’d never reach the rifle under the bench in time.
Her brothers’ laughter echoed behind her as they came out onto the boardwalk to the tinkle of the shop bell.
“Hey, Callie,” Frisco called, “look what we got—a whole roll, all for you. With frosting!”
“Who’s that?” Sutter asked.
Figure on Sutter to notice the man on horseback. Callie refused to take her eyes off the fellow until she knew he wasn’t going to shoot one of them.
“Deputy McCormick,” Levi said. “How can we help you?”
Deputy? So this fellow was the law in Seattle.
He nodded past Callie as if acknowledging Levi. “No help necessary. You answered my question.” His hand moved away from the gun to finger the brim of his hat. “Good day, ma’am.”
“A moment,” Levi called, just when she thought she might relax. As Sutter scrambled up into the bed of the wagon and Frisco handed Callie the roll wrapped in paper, Levi came around to face the lawman.
“These are the Murphys from out around Columbia,” he told the deputy. “I’m taking them to Wallin Landing to live. We were followed part of the way by a pair of riders. I didn’t like the looks of them.”
The lawman nodded. “I’ll head that direction when I can. Thanks for letting me know.” With a flick of the reins, he rode on.
Callie drew in a breath at last. Sutter leaned out of the wagon bed, as if watching the deputy until he turned the corner. Frisco pressed against the side of the wagon next to Callie.
“Go on and eat it,” Frisco said, slate-colored eyes bright as silver in the sunlight. “It’s cinnamon.”
She could see some of the red-brown spice clinging to the corner of his mouth, and her own mouth turned up in a smile. “Was it good?”
“Oh, yes.” He glanced at Levi, who had also been watching the lawman. “Thanks, preacher.”
Levi collected himself and smiled at her brother. “You’re welcome, Frisco. Climb aboard, now. We still have a ways to go.”
With