Page 36 of Wagon Train Song
“Is Bertie around? Maybe he can help.” Flames flared as the women got a fire going. In the dancing light, he made out familiar figures—Angela, Louise, and Marnie. His gaze stopped there.
She had talked about bad choices last night as if her life had included them. But what could she have meant? She was a woman devoted to her family, caring for a son who would need her long past normal time. Who had no doubt cared for Norman until he passed and was now escorting her family across the country to a better life.
Undoubtedly, she’d followed God every step of the way. What had Ellen told him when the children were so sick with measles?
“Marnie,” Ellen said in awe. “Fell on her knees at Bertie’s bedside and prayed fervently for his recovery. She has such faith.”
Back then, he’d wondered what would happen to her faith if Bertie didn’t survive. When he asked Ellen, his wife had smiled. “Do you know what she said before amen?”
Of course, he didn’t. Not that Ellen expected an answer.
“She said to God, ‘Even if You choose to take him, I will still love and obey You.’” Tears had filled Ellen’s eyes. “I wish I had that kind of faith.”
As clear as if it happened yesterday, Gabe recalled how he’d held Ellen and assured her God would provide faith when she needed it. As it turned out, it was he who needed it and, thanks to Norman, had found it.
Perhaps he’d remind Marnie of that as they walked together though she’d avoided him yesterday.
He made out Bertie headed toward the animals, seeking hay for his goat.
“Bertie,” Gabe called. “We need your help with the oxen.”
Eagerness filling his face, Bertie trotted over and soon had the oxen on their feet eating their breakfast.
The travelers ate hurriedly at Joe’s urging and resumed trundling across the dusty land.
Silver stars dotted the indigo sky. A gentle breeze, not yet hot, stirred invisible dust from the wheels. White wagon covers were the only thing detectible as they moved in the darkness.
Apart from the thump of oxen feet and rattle of harnessing, they’d traveled an hour in silence when pink crept across the sky, tinting the air with a blush of color.
The women walked ahead of him, and they stopped, lifted their gazes, and turned toward the rising sun. The color reflected in their faces.
Marnie closed her eyes.
Gabe let the oxen stop as he watched her—a picture of worship if he’d ever seen one.
A smile tugged at her lips, and she opened her eyes and looked at him. Caution replaced her peace—and perhaps a warning. She hurried to rejoin the others.
What had he done to bring these flashes of resistance? Was it because their shared past brought sad memories? Or did she still resent him for joining her on their journey? Would she tell him her reasons if he asked?
The sun rose and hit his shoulders. Before they’d traveled another hour, his skin burned, and his tongue begged for water. He allowed himself a sip from his canteen. Joe had warned them the oxen needed water more than the people except for Petey, who could have as much as he wanted.
They continued onward, the sun sucking energy from both man and beast. Gabe continually wiped sweat off his face. The sun passed its zenith, and they continued onward without Joe calling a halt. Finally, he announced they’d take a break.
“We’ll sit out the worst of the heat. Eat and rest but not until the animals are taken care of.”
Telling them to tend the animals was unnecessary. They all knew they wouldn’t make it across the desert without oxen.
Once the beasts were resting, Walt hung blankets to provide shade. Its sparsity meant they lounged close together, making it impossible for a discussion with Marnie, who, of course, chose a spot with three girls between her and him.
They ate their cold lunch, then rested.
He drowsed in the heat, lulled by the murmur of conversation near him. Would he ever get a chance to find out what Marnie had against him? Had he done something to offend her either in the past or recently?
CHAPTER 10
The heat sucked at Marnie’s soul. As did her guilt. If they were moving, she could think about walking, surviving the dust—anything but what she’d done. But they remained where they were, resting several hours before resuming the journey.
As they moved out, Joe said they could make it across the desert during the night if they pushed on.
