Page 56 of Wagon Train Song
It wasn’t a question he could answer. Or did he mean, he couldn’t accept that answer?
Tomorrow would provide new opportunities.
Marnie turnedon her side and pretended she was asleep. Thankfully, Irene had opted to sleep outside with Bertie. She would have asked questions. They’d have noticed the way Gabe looked at her. Or the way Marnie’s cheeks warmed when he did. Would they hear and understand the subtle message in his words? Home. A place shared with those you cared about and who had similar hopes and dreams.
But did they have that? His dream was to go past the mountains. Her goal was to settle near Carson.
Her hope?
There was no room in her life for hopes. She had to deal with reality.
She closed her eyes and wished for sleep. Her weary body accepted the invitation.
The next morning, her heart decided there was room for hope even though her head said there wasn’t. Hope for a chance to be alone with him. Only because it was fun to reminisce.
As soon as breakfast was over and the food packed up, they sat in a circle.
“May I?” Gabe indicated the Bible he held.
“Please.” She welcomed his input, his wisdom, and the support it offered.
“I’ll read Lamentations chapter three.” He turned pages to the chapter and read.
At first, the lament was about all the misery the writer had endured. But then there came a shift in perspective to what God had done. And Gabe’s voice rang clear as he read those passages. “‘It is of the Lord’s mercies that we are not consumed, because His compassions fail not. They are new every morning: great is thy faithfulness. The Lord is my portion, saith my soul; therefore, will I hope in Him.’”
Marnie breathed in hope and renewal. She would trust her future to God’s loving hands.
After two hymns, Gabe prayed a blessing on the day, and then they moved out. She walked by him, hoping for the opportunity to talk. But Bertie wouldn’t leave his side.
They nooned beside a quiet little stream. While the men rested and the oxen grazed, she sat by the water, watching it meander its placid way along. The oxen ate grass, the chomping sound soothing.
“Well, it ain’t often I find a good-lookin’ lady out here. Just ripe for the pickin’.”
The stranger’s voice had Marnie on her feet and glancing toward the others. Were they close enough to hear the man? She raised her voice to make sure. “Sir, I’ll thank you not to make inappropriate remarks.”
His loud and abrasive laugh grated her ear. Uncombed hair hung over his collar in black knots. His complexion was part dark coloring and the rest grown-in dirt. “What part do ya object ta? Finding you out here?” He leaned over the neck of his horse. “Or callin’ ya a good looker?”
Without answering, she strode back to the wagons. Uninvited and unwelcome, he followed.
“We have a visitor,” she announced when no one seemed to notice.
The men sprang to their feet. The women stared at the visitor who’d be better described as an intruder. Bertie drew back under the wagon, no doubt hoping to be invisible. Her son would be so afraid. And he had no barn to retreat to.
She hurried to stand at Gabe’s side, unashamedly clutching his arm.
The stranger looked at her girls with a predatory gleam.
Marnie wished her daughters and their friends had stayed in the background.
He swung down from his horse without an invitation to do so. Then he lifted the lid on the bean pot and stuck his fingers in to scoop out a mouthful. “Not bad.” He smacked his lips. “Which one of ya gals made these? I might like havin’ ya along to cook for me.”
Gabe patted Marnie’s hand, then eased it off his arm. He stepped forward. “Sir, your inappropriate comments are offensive. I’ll ask you to leave us alone.”
Walt, Cecil, Joe, and Irene lined up behind Gabe showing their support.
The man roared out laughter. “Last I heard, it’s still a free country. Man ken go wherever he wants.”
“You aren’t welcome here.” Gabe crossed his arms and looked intense.
