Page 26 of Wagon Train Song
That left—her gaze went to Gabe.
“You’re welcome to walk with me. I’d enjoy it.”
So would she. She fell in step beside him.
“Did you have a good rest?” He signaled the oxen to move on.
She rubbed at her sleep-crusty eyes. “I can’t believe I fell asleep.”
“That would explain the odd sounds coming from your direction.” He did a thunderous imitation of a snore.
She contained her amusement to express proper indignation. “I do not snore.”
“Uh-huh. If you say so.”
An urge to jab her elbow into his ribs made her clench her hands at her sides rather than give in. Instead, she’d better deal with that awkward moment. “I may have been harsh earlier when I scolded the girls.” Would he hear the way her voice thinned and grant her the grace of judging it as regret?
“Maybe it needed to be said.”
“Maybe.” She didn’t sound convinced. Because she wasn’t. “I told Ruby my responsibility feels heavy at times.”
No need to give particulars. He didn’t need to know.
“It reminded me of something you did when the four of us were in Bruffin.”
“Really? It was so long ago.”
“You remember that woman everyone judged because she had a baby but no husband?”
“Mrs. Everetts? I haven’t thought of her in years. She moved away. It always bothered me how everyone judged her and worse, how they treated her.”
“Remember when she fell in the mud or was likely pushed, and some boys were harassing her?”
Marnie drew her brows together. “Honestly, I don’t.”
“You defended her. You were amazing. Ellen and I talked about it for days.”
“I can’t imagine.” Why would they talk about her? Her cheeks grew warm. “What did I do?”
He told a colorful tale of her rushing to the woman’s defense. “I’ll never forget you standing serene and calm and telling the crowd, ‘‘Inasmuch as ye have done it?—’”
“‘Unto one of the least of these.’” She joined her voice to his.
“So, you do remember?”
“Not really, but I remind myself of the verse often.” Sometimes it encouraged her. Other times it judged her for her failure. “Was Norman there? Seems he might have stopped me.”
“Nope. Seemed unconcerned. In fact, he said he thought it would be interesting.”
She laughed. “It sounds like Norman.” How often, especially in his last weeks, had he said she could do anything she put her mind to?
Gabe grinned. “He seemed to know you could manage.” He was quiet a heartbeat. Then he reached as if to touch hershoulder before jerking his hand back. “I think he’d have the same opinion now.”
“Thank you for saying so,” she croaked. She’d cling to how that ability could see her through the journey. Not how it had enabled her to do difficult—impossible—things in the past.
Bits of tree fluff drifted by. Insects in the grass croaked.
“Gabe, what are your plans once we reach the fort?”
