Hope

white cloth top, large wheels, and supplies hanging from the sides. He opened the rear flap and pulled out a small crate. “You can step on this to get inside.”
Once inside, Hope looked all around. “How do we label the crates and barrels?”
Callum pulled a piece of white chalk from his vest pocket and held it up. “Your handwriting is probably better than mine, so I’ll tell you the containers' contents and you can write it on the outside.”
That was how they spent their first day at the campground, labeling everything but one small trunk.
“What’s in this one?” Hope asked, holding her chalk near the top, ready to write.
“That one?” Callum rubbed his chin. “Um… just write Callum on it. It’s my personal things.”
Hope complied and wrote his name on it.
“Why are we going to Oregon? For the adventure?” she asked.
“Mostly for the homesteading. We can claim 160 acres.”
They settled her things in one corner. The rest of the wagon was full of food supplies, Callum’s personal trunk, and a small extra trunk. Hope wondered why he needed two trunks for his possessions. Why was the last one was locked? Hope had stuffed all her belongings into one large duffle bag, and she still had room for more.
They exited and Callum showed her the tools hanging on the outside of the wagon. “This metal rack goes over the fire so you can cook. Use these prongs to remove it and hang it back up after each use as it may be still hot.”
He went all around the wagon, showing her a shovel, a bucket, tools, a pickaxe, and several coils of rope. When finished, Callum stood with his arms folded in front of him and asked, “Can you cook us some lunch?”
“Do I just go into the wagon and pick something out or would you like to suggest something?”
“I trust you to pick something palatable. I have a meeting with the wagon master. I have to pay him and make an appointment for him to check our wagon.” At her questioning look, he explained, “The wagon master makes sure every wagon is equipped and sturdy enough for the long trip.”
Hope turned and went back into the wagon to select something for lunch. She chose smoked ham, but she hadn’t any bread, so she scooped out enough flour to make biscuits. They could make sandwiches with the biscuits. She grabbed a few pickles, put on an apron, and went out to start the fire.
While she tended the biscuits, she put the ham on a metal plate and left it on the far edge of the rack to stay warm. She gazed around the area. There was a wagon parked ahead of theirs and another behind it. The line of wagons went on as far as she could see in each direction, and she wondered who their neighbors were.
When Callum returned, she had lunch ready. While he didn't compliment her outdoor culinary skills, he ate three sandwiches without complaining, and she assumed he approved.
Between bites, he told her that the wagon master would be by shortly to inspect the wagon. He pointed the way to the river and told her to wash the dishes there.
After washing the dishes and putting them away, she used the prongs to put the fire rack back on its hook. She thought she’d have time to relax, but Callum jumped down from the wagon and tossed a pair of trousers at her. “I need these mended,” he said, and he walked off to meet the wagon master.
Hope sighed and went into the wagon to fetch her sewing kit. She sat on the crate and mended his trousers, fretting. He could have at least said please.
By the time she'd started the fire for their evening meal, the people in the wagon in front of them—a middle-aged couple—had arrived. The woman waved at Hope. Soon, she could see the campfires down the line of wagons. There were still a few wagons without occupants, but most of them were there and preparing for the long journey. Off to the right was a large corral for oxen and horses. Someone had even brought a goat.
Hope peeled potatoes and made potato cakes. She was glad she’d helped in the kitchen when at the orphanage, as she’d learned to cook there, but once they traveled, they’d have to depend more on cured food and cold meals.
While the cakes browned, the middle-aged woman from the wagon in front of them came over.
“Hello, I’m Anna.”
“Pleased to meet you. I’m Hope.”
“Are you going all the way to Oregon?” Anna asked.
“Yes. Are you?”
She nodded. “My sister is already living there, and I can’t wait to join her. Do you have family or friends there?”
“No, we’re homesteading.”
“So are we. It’s a pretty good deal. One hundred and sixty acres—I’m very excited.” She turned. “Well, it was nice meeting you. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to come over.”
“Likewise,” Hope said.
When Callum returned, he gobbled down several potato cakes, drank the coffee she’d made, and then stretched out on his bedroll under the wagon. Hope had been proud of her accomplishments, but he hadn't said a word about them.
She walked over to where he lay. “Where am I to sleep?”
He patted the bedroll beside him. “Right here.”
Hope cringed. She'd never cringed so much in her life. She’d have to sleep that close to him? It was out in the open—surely, he wouldn’t try to get intimate… would he?
“Don’t worry,” Callum said. “I’m just resting after my meal. I’m going into town for a while to have drinks with some men. You’ll be asleep by the time I return.” Callum got up, brushed off his pants, went into the wagon, came out wearing a clean shirt, and walked up the street toward