Page 8 of Wagon Train Song
He went to the doorway. “Bertie, it’s me. Gabe Miller. Me and my sons have the wagon at the end of the lane.”
A dog growled.
Marnie hissed. “Please go away.”
“Bertie, your pa and I were good friends.” Nothing inside the barn moved. That had to be a good sign. “Your pa used to write to me. I miss that. Your pa told me about you. Said you were a big brave man.” The words echoed off the beams. A shaft of light stabbed through the east window indicating the sun had risen above the horizon. But not a sound from the others. “He even told me you’re good with animals. Could you help me with my oxen? I’m not very good with them. I’d sooner have a nice team of horses.” He waited, hoping, praying for a response. He needed Bertie to accept him. They needed to be on the trail soon.
“They got names?”
Gabe grinned. Talking about Norman or the animals—or maybe both—had caught Bertie’s interest. “I call them Zeb and Pike. Like Zebulon Pike.” Bertie probably wouldn’t know anything about the explorer. “They might be calmer if someone like you helps.”
“I come.” Bertie emerged from the shadows and trotted down the alleyway, carrying a smoky-gray cat. A goat bleated at his heels. A three-legged dog followed the goat, and another gray cat trotted at Bertie’s side.
Marnie followed, her expression hidden in the dim light.
Gabe led the way from the barn and toward his camp with Bertie at his side. The big man slowed at the sight of Walt and Cecil.
“There’s Zeb and Pike.” Gabe pointed to the oxen.
Bertie headed toward the pair.
The boys had dowsed the fire but still nursed cups. “Boys, go join the others while Bertie and I take care of the oxen.”
At his soft request, they took up the reins of their horses and sauntered over to stop at the group of women—and Joe.
“You stay.” Bertie put his carried cat down and signaled to his other pets. They sat in a row to watch him. “Mister, which one is Zeb?”
Gabe eased closer to the first animal, a solid red ox. “Say hello to Zeb.” Pike was a similar color only with a white blaze on his face.
Making murmuring sounds, Bertie introduced himself to the animals and gave them each a hug around their neck.
Having hauled freight for a time, Gabe had met his share of cantankerous animals, and oxen were no exception. But this pair lowed at Bertie’s attention. After a few minutes, Bertie said, “They’s ready.” Gabe and Bertie yoked the pair to the wagon, then side by side, walked the wagon toward the others.
In one wagon, Hazel held her son. Her nurse friend, Louise, sat beside her. Ruby and Angela perched on the second wagon’s seat. Both teams were controlled by lines, which would make it possible for the ladies to ride much of the way.
His pair wasn’t trained that way, which meant someone had to walk beside them. His sons had grumbled at the idea of taking turns at the task. Gabe was no more used to shank’s pony than were they, but for now, he was happy enough to walk with Bertie at his side.
“Whoa.” His oxen stopped beside the others. Bertie scooped up his cats and set them in the back of the wagon Ruby and Angela were in.
“You stay.”
Marnie must’ve been expecting this for she handed Bertie a worn, hair-covered blanket to arrange for the cats. She held out an old coat.
He put it in the back and lifted the dog to sit beside the cats. “You stay,” he said again. “Alice, walk.”
That seemed to have settled the matter. With the snort of oxen, the creak of wagons, and the clop of horses, they set out. One black-and-white goat and three wagons. Four horseback riders—Joe out in front with Irene and Gabe’s sons riding abreast. Three people walking—him, Bertie, and Marnie, though there was no reason she didn’t ride in one of the wagons.
Remembering hersuggestionfor him to follow, he let the other wagons precede him and hung back to avoid the dust kicked up by the wheels and hooves.
He expected Bertie to join his mother or his sisters, but he stayed at Gabe’s side, murmuring to the oxen with Alice bouncing and jumping alongside him. Had he ever seen a more unusual outfit? Amusement started in the pit of his stomach and roared upward. He managed to control it to soft chuckles. Even so, it drew Marnie’s attention, and she fell back to walk besidehim. He squared his shoulders, knowing she had reason to object to the way he’d overruled every warning he’d been given. But he’d put up with her scolding to accomplish the task he’d chosen.
CHAPTER 3
Marnie walked beside Bertie to the end of the lane. Only to make sure he was comfortable, of course. Fine! She’d admit it. The flimsy excuse was enabling her to put off what she must do—swallow her pride.
“Mama, this is Zeb and Pike. That man needed my help.” Bertie darted a look at Gabe, walking ahead. He lowered his voice to a whisper. “He’s Papa’s friend?”
Aware Gabe could hear everything, Marnie nodded. “At one time, he was.” She’d sometimes read his letters to Norman. But never Norman’s letters to him although he would have allowed her to do so if she’d asked, but she’d no interest. Ellen had been her friend, not Gabe.
