Page 13 of Wagon Train Song
“I don’t need any man to do my chores for me,” she muttered as she led her horse to water.
“Nor do I see anyone offering.” Walt’s words, although soft-spoken, carried criticism.
Irene tossed her head, causing her hair to fly in all directions. Hadn’t she started out with her hair tied into a braid? When and why had she loosened it?
Marnie let out a long-suffering sigh. Having the Millers accompanying them was going to complicate things and change the mood from relaxed to almost quarrelsome. But then what could she expect? It wasn’t possible to put young women and young men together without sparks of one sort or the other flying. Better a spark of annoyance than a spark of attraction though how long before there’d be both?
She’d do everything she could to keep the peace. Starting with not letting herself be upset by Gabe’s news. It was like Norman to help someone and not think to mention it.
Hazel returned to their wagon and scooped Petey from his perch. He fussed and threw himself backward.
“He needs to move about but—” Hazel surveyed the grassy area. Her gaze went toward the river, a few yards away.
Joe turned from tending his horse. “He’s safe here.”
Hazel hesitated, but when Petey whined and squirmed, she put him down. The grass caught on his feet, and he tripped, let out a short-lived wail, and then crawled through the grass, letting it tickle his chin, as he made his way toward Alice.
“Limpy, Fluff, and Smoke walk too.” Bertie ran to the wagon and lifted his pets down. “Stay with Alice.” The three smaller animals drank and then poked through the grass.
“Do they understand him?” Gabe’s soft words were curious but not unkind.
“I’m never sure. But they don’t go far from him, so I don’t need to worry.” The trees and bushes were thick beyond the clearing. If the cats or Limpy decided to go adventuring?—
“Then why are you biting your lip?”
She laughed. “I suppose I can’t help but be a little”—she wouldn’t say worried, not after informing him she wasn’t—“um,concerned.”
With a dark-colored patchwork quilt slung over her shoulder, Louise staggered under the weight of the box of food she carried. She lowered it to a grassy spot, shook the folds from the quilt, and spread it beside the box before kneeling and digging out the contents. “This smells heavenly. Anyone else hungry?”
Bertie wiped his mouth on his shirtsleeve and hurried to kneel at Louise’s side. “Me. I hungry.”
Louise draped her arm across Bertie’s shoulders, though she had to stretch to do so. She was one of the few outside the family he allowed to touch him.
The others stood at the quilt’s edge except Joe, who stayed back perhaps not feeling he belonged. Perhaps he’d been made to feel that way because of his race.
Marnie hoped she could dispel him of that feeling before long. She welcomed him so long as Bertie didn’t overreact.
“Can we eat?” Ruby asked. “I’m starved to a shadow.”
They never ate without asking a blessing, but with men present, Marnie was uncomfortable being the one to say grace. “Gabe, would you pray over our food?”
“My pleasure.”
Her breath eased out. She knew nothing of his beliefs or faith. He and Ellen had been churchgoers and seemed keen adherents, but that was twenty years ago. He could have turned his back on God, or his relationship might have deepened. It was nice to think he still followed Him.
The Millers all removed their hats as Gabe bowed his head. “Father God, thank You for these provisions. Thank You for the journey ahead that will take us to new opportunities. Please keep us safe. Amen.”
His words settled through Marnie like a sweet drink. Not just thanks for the food but a prayer for their journey that seemed like a benediction.
Louise lifted the lid from a square tin and sniffed. “Fried chicken. I knew I could smell it. They must have butchered three hens to make this much.” She passed the tin to Cecil who stood at her side. He selected a piece and passed it on. As she ate, she dug further into the box. “Biscuits, cheese, ham, two cakes, several kinds of cookies, two loaves of bread already sliced, and a dozen boiled eggs. We sure aren’t going to go hungry for a meal or two.”
Only an occasional comment on the food or Hazel calling Petey interrupted as they ate. Their appetite satisfied, at Joe’s instructions, they rested while the oxen ate.
“I’ll watch Petey,” Marnie offered Hazel. “You take a nap while you can.”
Soon Hazel was curled on her side under the shade of a towering maple tree, her breathing deepening.
Petey on all fours, scrambled toward the river, but before Marnie could get to her feet, Joe reached the baby, lifted him by the back of his garment, and turned him about, marching his fingers up and down Petey’s spine as he released him.
