Page 6 of Wagon Train Song
She let her chest muscles relax. Gabe did not deserve to be the recipient of her ire. It wasn’t his fault that—well, noteverythingwas his fault.
Louise got down without waiting for assistance and waited while the driver?—
“Not again.” The words would not be held in as a small trunk and several bags were unloaded from the carriage.
Marnie lifted her hand imploringly toward heaven. “Two weeks ago, I was almost ready to go. Four of us and one wagon. Bertie was somewhat accepting of the idea.” She rocked her headback and forth. “Then we were six, then seven, and now—” There were no words. Absolutely none to describe her feelings. This was not the trip she had envisioned.
Hazel, having seen Louise’s arrival, hurried out to hug her friend. “You’re coming too?”
“How could I pass up this opportunity?” Louise’s deep and mellow voice made it sound like she didn’t want to miss a Sunday picnic. “Nurses are needed in the West. Or so I’ve heard.”
A sound of pure, unfettered exasperation escaped Marnie’s patience. “Mr. Miller and the rest of you.” She swept her arms to include Joe and the Miller boys. “I am pulling out tomorrow morning before half the town decides to accompany me.”
She was ready except for one thing—Bertie. She stumped to the barn and eased into the cool, dim interior. Dust motes floated in the shaft of light and tickled her nose. The aroma of animals helped soothe her mounting frustration. “Bertie, it’s me, Mama.” She closed the walk-in door and waited for him to acknowledge her.
“Mama?” The hoarse whisper came from inside a pen.
Marnie remained by the door. “Can I come in?”
“Only you come.”
“No one else is here.” She eased forward on the straw-strewn floor.
Alice bleated at her approach.
“Hello, Alice. How are you?”
The black-and-white goat lifted her head for Marnie to pat her, then returned to pressing against Bertie.
Marnie lowered herself to the floor beside her son and leaned against the worn wooden pen, letting the muscles in her back relax. Love and tenderness for this son made her speak soft and gentle. “We need to leave tomorrow to go see Carson. Remember?”
“I not go now.” His voice was muffled against Limpy’s furry back. Two cats lounged on Bertie’s shoulders.
Marnie smiled at the sight of Bertie and his animals. “We can’t stay. Remember I told you we sold everything so we could go see Carson.” If she mentioned his brother often enough, Bertie might remember his excitement of visiting him.
“I not want to leave Papa.”
The tears in his voice heightened the ache in her heart. Papa was part of the reason Marnie had decided to leave. Even though her husband had passed on well over a year ago, Bertie clung to the hope he would one day reappear, often looking for him in familiar places.
“Papa is in heaven, but he’ll be with us wherever we are. Remember, he’s right here.” She pressed her palm to Bertie’s chest.
He covered her hand with his. “Mama, you not tell me all those people coming with us.”
She stroked Limpy’s rough fur. “We’ll leave them alone, and they’ll leave us alone.”
It was the best she could promise.
The only sound was mouth noises from Alice, a snuffled snore from Limpy, and purring from the cats as Bertie considered her offer. Although he didn’t say anything, she felt his slow acceptance in the way his fingers uncoiled in Limpy’s fur and how he leaned into Alice.
“Are you ready to come in for supper? Angela’s making something.” Their last meal in their home, but she wasn’t going to point that out to Bertie. In order to start early tomorrow as she planned in the hopes of getting away from all the men, she’d prepare a breakfast to eat as they traveled.
Flecks of hay floated around her as she rose. “Bertie, let’s go.”
“Mama, I eat here? Just like?—”
Marnie knew what he meant. After Norman’s death, Bertie had eaten many meals in the dusty barn surrounded by his pets. Perhaps he needed the comfort of this last evening in the familiar place.
“We’ll leave before dawn.” She patted each animal and squeezed Bertie’s hand before she departed the barn into the bright sunshine.
