Page 2 of Wagon Train Song
The horse reared to a halt, dirt flying from his hooves.
“Hey, Ma. I’m ready to go with you.”
Although she tried, Marnie couldn’t pull a word from her brain. Not that Irene noticed.
“You’ll need someone to hunt and to protect you. That’s where I come in.” Her daughter patted the rifle in its sock hanging from her saddle. Then she swung her leg over and jumped to the ground, landing squarely on her feet, her hands on her narrow hips and a smile as wide as a river in flood upon her lips.
Marnie pressed the heel of her hand to her forehead. Irene worked for a local family with a dozen children and hadn’t planned to join Marnie on this journey. “What about the Stebers?” It was the least of the protests rising within her but the only one she could squeeze out.
“I said goodbye to them. They wished me Godspeed.” She patted her saddlebags. “Got all my things right here.”
A lump blocked Marnie’s throat. They’d need Godspeed, His blessing, His provision, and most of all, His protection on this journey. And she’d need more supplies since her party of fourhad grown to seven. And where was everyone going to sleep? Where would all the trunks and cases go?
“Where’s Bertie? How’s he taking all this?” Irene waved a gloved hand toward the wagon.
All eyes turned to the barn, it being Bertie’s usual place of retreat.
“He doesn’t like change.” Not that Marnie needed to say it. They were all aware of their brother’s idiosyncrasies. “I keep reminding him he’ll see Carson.”
Silence and thoughtful looks were the only response and all she expected. The girls had grown up with Bertie and knew what to expect. She stifled a snort—well, what to expect often meant expecting that they couldn’t predict what he’d do.
Irene leaned back on the heels of her worn riding boots. “Does he know Alice is going too?” Meaning the goat who was among Bertie’s pets.
“Alice, his cats, and Limpy. I even promised him his three-legged dog could ride in the wagon.”
Ruby guffawed. “He’ll have all the animals riding while the people walk.”
“If his animals are riding, won’t he want to?” Irene turned to stare at the wagon’s interior, the overhead white canvas creating some shade over the contents. She laughed. “He’ll have to perch on three layers of crates and trunks with his head pressed to the hoops.”
Marnie kissed Petey’s plump cheek and handed him to his mother. “I have to check on a few things.” Her heels struck the ground with unusual force as she made her way to the house to get her purse.
Clutching the wrinkled paper listing the needed supplies, she headed down the road toward town. How would she fit more bodies, more luggage, and more supplies into the wagon? For the most part, the people and pets could walk, but whatabout during inclement weather? She crumpled the paper as her fist clenched. Too bad that wasn’t her only concern. Carson had provided her with a map for the journey—mapwas a bit overstated. It could best be described as a rudimentary sketch giving little information as to where they’d cross rivers or—No. She wouldn’t worry. It was a waste of time and energy.The Lord is my guide and my rock.
She skirted ruts on the two-mile trek to town. Perspiration dampened her forehead, and she breathed hard when she reached the store and pushed open the wooden door.
Mr. Dunn glanced up at her rushed entrance. “Mrs. Woods. Nice to see you.” His eyes narrowed as he took in her state. “Is something wrong?”
She sucked in a deep breath to calm herself. “I’m going to need more supplies.” She’d come up with a list as she trotted to town, and she rattled it off for him.
“I’ll need a few days to get all of this in.” He tapped the paper on which he’d written the items. “But I have to speak up and say what’s on my mind. How are you going to get all this into your wagon?”
“Plus, two more women and a baby.” The words shot from her mouth as the tapping of Mr. Dunn’s finger drummed inside her head.
“Might I suggest you procure another wagon?”
“I can’t deny the thought claimed a good deal of my time on the walk.” A wagon meant another team of oxen. The money Norman left her on his passing was evaporating, but Carson had assured her she’d have no trouble augmenting what he could provide from his meager wages as a North-West Mounted Policeman. Laundry, taking in boarders, and sewing were among the things he’d suggested. Marnie ground her teeth. She would be independent no matter how hard she had to work.
Mr. Dunn cleared his throat. “And might I be so bold as to suggest you need a guide? I have just the man for you. Joe.” He waved forward a man from the back of the store. “Joe, this is Mrs. Woods, the lady I told you is heading for the territories with her family.” Directing his attention back to Marnie, Mr. Dunn added, “Joe is familiar with the trail. He’d be a good guide.”
Marnie studied the man. Bronzed skin, black hair in a braid. Obviously, he had Native blood in his veins. Black eyes as steady as a rock, and yet she sensed no boldness in his gaze. Only interest and assessment.
“A guide?” Someone who had experience on the trail? Who knew more about where to go than the map provided? But—“I hadn’t planned on it.” A guide plus another wagon and oxen and supplies. Would it never end? However, the very idea of having someone who knew the way lifted her biggest worry from her thoughts. But how would Bertie react to a stranger accompanying them? For that matter, how would the girls? She twisted a thread hanging from her sleeve until it snapped. “Would you consider it, sir?”
“Ma’am, I’ll look at your outfit before I give my answer.”
How reassuring his deep voice was. “Fine. I’ll need a few days to get organized. I’ll let Mr. Dunn know when I’m ready.”
Joe dipped his head in acknowledgment and slipped away before she could ask his last name.
