Page 37 of Wagon Train Song
No one suggested they should take their time. They were likely as eager as she to be off these burning plains. If only it would rain and relieve this heat. She’d walk in a downpour. But when night darkened the sky above, it shone with stars and a thin moon.
At least Petey was asleep in the wagon. Poor little mite felt the heat worse than the rest of them.
Weary step after weary step, Marnie trundled onward, guided by the wagons’ dusty white canvases and driven by the promise of reaching the end of this torture.
She swayed. Must keep walking. Must keep walking. One foot in front of the other. One foot—she stumbled.
“Steady there.” Gabe caught her arm and prevented her from falling.
How did she get to be at his side? She squinted to make out the canvas a distance ahead. Her steps had been slower than she thought. Had he slowed to keep pace with her?
She sucked dust-laden air into her lungs and straightened her spine. But she could barely lift her feet from the dirt.
“Have I made a terrible mistake?” The words croaked from her dry throat.
“Here.” He caught her hand and put his canteen in her palm. “Have a drink.”
She tipped the container back and let the warm, canvas-tasting water flood her mouth. She swallowed and handed his canteen back. “Thanks.”
“We’ll make it across the desert and whatever lies before us. We’ll get to the fort. So no, you haven’t made a mistake.”
She hoped and prayed he was right on this matter.
But she’d prayed over the other matter and was still convinced she’d made a mistake, which was the kindest way of describing it.
Her world tilted, and she tumbled right into Gabe’s arms. He carried her to the wagon and set her in the back. “Make yourself as comfortable as you can.”
“But”—she forced weary words from her mouth—“Joe said we must walk.”
Gabe’s chuckle was soothing—inviting?
She shook her head, hoping to drive the confusion from her thoughts.
“I don’t think he had in mind someone collapsing in the dirt.” He patted her arm. “My oxen can carry you.”
And he was gone.
Marnie hesitated, then rearranged herself between boxes and crates, and found enough space to lay her head on something soft carrying the aroma of the recently cut hay. But she couldn’t let herself sleep. Not while everyone else forged ahead. It wasn’tfair. She was supposed to be in charge. Making good and wise decisions. Something she vowed she would be careful to do…
Harnesses rattled. Voices called out.
Marnie jerked awake. The wagon wasn’t moving. Was something wrong? She sat up and scooted to the back. The eastern sky was pale with the promise of dawn, but that wasn’t what made her laugh. Leaves caught the morning light. There was not one glimpse of the desert. The murmur of running water made her scramble from the wagon and rush to the merry stream not fifty feet away. The oxen, the goat, the horses, the cats and dog, and every one of the travelers was at the bank, either slurping water or cupping it up in their hands. Thankfully, the animals were downstream from the people.
She rushed to join them. “We made it,” she rejoiced before she dipped her face to the water, reveling in its refreshing coolness.
“Joe says we’ll rest here for the day,” Angela, at Marnie’s side, said. “I, for one, hope we’ll be allowed enough privacy to bathe.”
“I agree.” Marnie didn’t hear one dissenting voice among those who called out. “But first, breakfast.”
It took half an hour to prepare the food. They fried up bacon and flapjacks, broke eggs onto the hot griddle, and brewed two pots of coffee. The first they consumed while the food cooked, the second as they lingered over the meal.
Marnie sat back, content to listen to her girls and the Miller boys chatting and laughing. She stole a glance at Gabe. He was quiet. Of course, he hadn’t slept in a wagon for the last while. She had no idea how long she’d enjoyed that luxury. She’d have to make it up to him somehow.
He turned. His gaze caught and held hers. Heat flared between them. Just the fire, surely. Nothing more. There could be nothing more. Her heart was safely locked and barricaded.
Irene pushed to her feet. “I’m going to look for a private spot to bathe. I’ll let you know what I find.” She ducked inside their wagon and emerged with a bundle under her arms. “I’m not coming back until I’ve washed off this gunk.” She gave her sleeves a disgusted grimace. “I’m wearing several extra pounds of good earth.”
With long strides, she returned to the river and followed it downstream. No one complained that she’d left the others to clean up from the meal. Like Marnie, they were happy to let her find a place for all of them to use, no doubt as anxious as she to rid themselves of two days’ worth of dust. Marnie scratched under her collar. Oh to clean away the chaffing dirt.
