Free All Together in One Place by Jane Kirkpatrick Page A

surprise.
    “Jeremy Bacon. Grant County, Wisconsin.” He wiped at his nose with his ever-present handkerchief. “All due respect, Mr. Schmidtke—”
    “Antone First name's good enough”
    “Harder for the law to catch you that way,” someone shouted and people laughed. Mazy noticed that Ruth Martin didn't.
    “If we need a leader at all,” Jeremy said, “he needs to be someone who's reluctant, someone who wants to let folks do on their own as much as possible.”
    Mazy gazed up at her husband, wondering what he was truly thinking. They'd argued just hours before. He'd insisted they could go it alone, just the two wagons. Now he was describing what kind of leader their group ought to have?
    “A fair number of us had no leader, yet here we are.” He lifted his arms to take in the gathering. “Seems foolhardy to turn over our scheduling to someone who doesn't know each family's quirks and ways. Me, I can't see the benefit. All we need is folks willing to listen to each other. Ask for help and the rest of us give it.”
    Mazy's mouth dropped open, but she snapped it shut andexchanged a look she couldn't name with Ruth Martin who stared at her from across the circle.
    “Got what, fifteen, twenty wagons right here represented,” Jeremy continued. “Now me, I've got Grant and MacDonald's guidebook that any who can read can look at with me. Just loosely head out in the same direction, stay on the North Platte road. Can't imagine we'd need anything more.”
    “Outdated, that book is,” Antone said. He scratched a shaved cheek “Lot's happened since ‘46. I tell you, we are all going to have situations where a firm hand is welcome as water. First time you decide to stop and I pass you by and take your grass, you'll be saying I should have listened to old Antone.” People chuckled. “And there's Indian threats. Lone wagons, just one or two stopping to pick flowers'll make those folks think we're all daft. Can't risk vexing Indians, yah that's right.” Mazy watched heads nod in private chatter across the circle. “Got to at least look like we defend ourselves, yah? Getting cattle across rivers, circling stock, would all be better with cooperation. Don't need lots of rules.”
    “We must decide about the Sabbath.” It was Sister Esther. Mazy wondered who the woman traveled with. No one had come forth to claim her as kin, though two men sat on either side of her. Behind her clustered several young women whose faces were shadowed by straw-woven hats that looked liked mushrooms pulled to a point at the top.
    “Best we decide on our own for that as well,” Jeremy said, “about whether to stop or go on. We don't need rules for everything.”
    “But if An tone s cattle should go on ahead and I stay behind, then his cows'll get the goods.” This from a ferret-faced man who had eased into the firelight.
    “Push a little harder the next day. Pass him to get the better feed. Think for yourself, man,” Jeremy said.
    “Seems like it'd be better to have some rules we could vote on. Matt Schmidtke,” the newest speaker said, introducing himself as he came tostand beside his father. His voice cracked in its youthfulness. “Be un-American to vote and not know what you're voting for.” He had a streak of white in his hair though he couldn't have been more than fifteen. She guessed him to be the same age as Tipton. Mazy wondered if she noticed him. Mazy leaned forward to look at her, but the girl still sat staring without a flicker of recognition.
    “What does Scripture say of it?” It was Sister Esther again.
    “Are women going to be allowed to speak? I mean if women are, we'll be here all night.” Another man's voice.
    “We've been here long enough to be ate up by mosquitoes and bewitched by the dancing music with men doing most of the talking.” It was a voice Mazy recognized well—her mother's.
    “Guess we could vote on whether or not to have a leader at all. Bryce Cullver, here,” the man said to introduce