Chapter 20
My Decision

I took Pa’s advice.

I may have been twenty-three, but I still figured my pa was about as dependable a man as there could be. Even if he hadn’t been my pa, I would have heeded his words. His being my father made it all the more important to listen to him and obey him as fully as I could. I’d had plenty of independence at times in the past, but the older I got, the more I found myself wanting to trust his way of looking at things.

Besides, I wanted to do it. I was interested in politics. I knew by now that I was against slavery, and that I did want Mr. Lincoln to win the election—maybe not as much as I had Mr. Fremont four years earlier, but enough to be able to speak out and tell folks that’s how I felt.

So Pa’s words gave me the nudge forward I needed—a nudge, as it turned out, that would make a mighty big difference in my life.

I left the next day on the midmorning stage south to Sacramento. Pa and Almeda and Becky and Tad took me to town to see me off. I was dressed in the traveling suit Almeda had Mrs. Gianni make for me. She said it would help to save my two fancy dresses for special occasions if I had something just to travel in. It was of dark brown patterned wool on the bottom, with a loose white muslin blouse with a short wool wraparound cape if it should be chilly.

When Cal Burton took my hand to help me up into the stage, I nearly wilted, even though my heart was pounding rapidly inside my chest. I tried not to show anything on my face, but sat down, then looked out at my family while Mr. Burton took the seat next to me. They were all smiling and waving and saying their farewells to me as if I were going to be gone a month instead of just four or five days.

“Don’t you worry about a thing, Mrs. Hollister,” Mr. Burton said through the open window. “I’ll make sure your daughter is well taken care of.”

“We stopped worrying about Corrie four years ago,” laughed Pa, “when she took to gallivanting off all over California by herself on horseback!”

“What’s this?” he said, glancing over at me.

“A long story,” I answered.

“I want to hear about it. What is your father talking about?”

“The last time I got mixed up in an election,” I said, laughing. “I hope this one turns out better than that.”

The stage jerked into motion. I leaned outside again, and they all waved. I kept looking back, waving as we picked up speed down the main street of Miracle Springs. Something about this departure was different than any other before, even though I had gone a lot farther than Sacramento in the past. Probably the difference had something to do with the man sitting next to me inside the stagecoach.

As we pulled out of town and headed south, I could not keep from thinking of the awful scene after Aunt Katie discovered me outside her window, and wondering if Cal Burton would say something about it. I didn’t know what I was going to talk to him about the whole way!

I shouldn’t have worried. He treated me with complete respect and kindness, never referred to the incident at Uncle Nick’s, and was so easy to talk with I soon forgot my nervousness and began to converse more freely than I imagined possible with a relative stranger. He asked me about my involvement with the Fremont-Buchanan election, and I told him about my adventures in Sonora and Mariposa, and what had happened with my story in the end.

“I never could help feeling less important than the other people around whenever I was in the city,” I said. “And everything that happened back then only made it worse.”

“From what I’ve heard, you’ve stood your ground against Kemble more than once, and even made him back down a time or two.”

I couldn’t keep from smiling at the memory.

“That doesn’t sound like a timid country girl to me.”

“I suppose you’re right,” I said. “I did do that. But down inside, someone like me still can’t help feeling kind of out of place in a big city and around important goings-on. Like that gathering in San Francisco that Pa and I went to in June.”

“You seemed perfectly at ease to me.”

“Oh no—I was so nervous!”

“Why?”

“I guess because I’m not used to all the big-city fancy ways. I’m more at home on the back of a horse than in a frilly dress.”

“You could have fooled me. You looked as elegant that evening as any young woman I could imagine.”

I blushed and glanced down at my lap. Nobody had ever used the word elegant about me before! The very thought of me being elegant would have made me laugh if I hadn’t been so embarrassed at the words.

“So tell me, did you ever get to meet the Fremonts after all you tried to do on their behalf?” Mr. Burton asked.

“Yes. Ankelita Carter arranged for me to meet them when they came to California after the election.”

“I imagine they were very appreciative of your efforts.”

“They were very nice to me,” I said. “Jessie Fremont’s a writer too, and so she seemed interested in all I was doing.”

“And Colonel Fremont?”

“He said he had mentioned my name to some of his friends as someone to ‘get on your side when the chips are down.’ I laughed at first, and didn’t think anything more about it. But now I find myself wondering if it might be true, after all.”

“I imagine if Colonel Fremont said he told people about Corrie Hollister, then he probably did exactly that. He and Lincoln were talked about in connection with each other for a while. You can never tell where your name might be getting around. Kemble told me that just about everything you write nowadays finds its way into print in the East. It must make you very proud to have accomplished so much as a woman, especially at such a young age.”

“I guess I never really stopped to think about it,” I said. “It never crossed my mind to think that I had accomplished anything.”

“The women of this country would likely disagree. Someday they’ll look back on you as a pioneer of a different kind than Daniel Boone, and John Fremont when he first explored the West.”

“Me, a pioneer?” I said.

“Of course. You mark my words, the day will come when people will remember your name and be proud of you for what you did.”

“Mr. Burton,” I asked after a minute, “do you think it is because of something Mr. Fremont may have said that Mr. Dalton asked me to help with the election?”

“I never heard anything to that effect. It’s possible, of course. But as influential as he was in helping to form the Republican party and make it a viable alternative to the southern Democrats, the party has begun to move in different directions than those of John Fremont himself. He does not have the influence he once did, as fond as you may be of him. Although you may not know it, your editor, Ed Kemble, thinks more highly of you than he probably lets on in your hearing. Word about Corrie Hollister has gotten around San Francisco and Sacramento without any help from John Fremont.”

He paused, then looked over at me earnestly. “There is one other thing I have to reply to about your question,” he said. “If we are going to be friends, as I hope we will, you are going to have to call me Cal. I’m only twenty-five. That can’t be more than a year or two older than you. If I’ve taken the liberty to call you Corrie instead of Miss Hollister, the least you can do is drop the Mister.”

“I’ll try,” I said shyly.

“If you ever meet my father, you can use Mr. Burton again. But not until then . . . agreed?”

“Agreed.” I nodded with a smile.