Page 9 of Wagon Train Song
“Bertie, see all the fresh grass over there? I think Alice would like a quick breakfast.”
Bertie called his goat and turned aside to let the animal chomp on the grass.
Once he was out of hearing and she was alone with Gabe, she forced herself to fall in at his side. “Mr. Miller, thank you for helping with Bertie.” Could she fully express her gratitude without insulting him by her surprise? “I was not able to get him to agree to leave.”
“My pleasure.” He nodded toward Bertie and Alice. “Irene told me how he continues to look for Norman.”
Marnie would have kept that information to herself, but perhaps it was for the best if Gabe realized how careful she—or did she mean, he?—must be around Bertie. “He’s been better until recently. Until?—”
“Until us?”
It would be easy to blame him but untrue and unfair. “It’s more than that. Every change upsets Bertie.”
“It’s got to be difficult for you.”
His understanding of her challenges brought a tightness to her throat, and for three steps on the dusty trail, she couldn’t respond.
She cleared her throat. “Why have you come?”
Hardly the disinterest she meant to show.
He shifted the goad from one hand to the other.
Perhaps he meant to ignore her question.
He again took the goad in his driving hand. “I told you. Carson seemed concerned and…”
“And?”
“I owe Norman. It’s bothered me that he passed on without me repaying the debt, and now, this is my chance.” His voice had deepened as if this debt weighed on his mind.
The oxen’s slow pace gave her time to come around and face him. “I can’t imagine what you mean. Norman never mentioned any sort of debt.”
The oxen stopped moving because of her position, so she stepped out of the way.
He tapped the animals with his goad stick to signal them to move on. No beating of his animals, no harsh words.
Bertie watched, relief smoothing the tension on his face as he noted Gabe’s gentle way with his oxen. Alice on his heels, Bertie joined them, making it impossible for Gabe to explain this debtand owing business. Well, they’d no doubt have time along the trail for her to pursue the question.
Town was in sight, and Irene fell back to ride behind Bertie. Marnie positioned herself at his side. Ruby slowed her wagon until Gabe’s oxen closed the distance. With the oxen beside him and Gabe at his elbow, Bertie couldn’t run away in a panic. If only Gabe realized his role.
Irene edged forward, whispered in the man’s ear, and then fell back again.
When Gabe nodded, Marnie released her relief in a sigh.
The road widened into a street. Trees cast long shadows across their path. They passed tended yards, and then the library with its large-lettered sign. The church was next. Ahead of them, the lead wagons stopped. At the sudden cessation of the noise they made, the sound of a crowd rose.
Angela left her wagon and came to Marnie. “There are lots of people there. I’m thinking they want to say goodbye. You go up front, and I’ll stay with Bertie.”
Tears pressed to the back of Marnie’s eyes. She’d said all the goodbyes she wanted to. All she could endure.
Angela touched her hand. “Take Louise with you.”
That made them both laugh. Louise was more practical than any of them. She’d accept their farewells, say goodbye, and wave as they moved on.
“That’s not a bad idea.” But Marnie moved forward alone to meet the crowd. After all, they were her friends. The knot in her stomach now ached in her lungs.
Mrs. Parson, the preacher’s wife, rushed forward with a bright quilt folded in her arms. “The ladies made this to help you remember us.” With a dramatic flourish, she held the quilt aloft. Each white square was embroidered with a name in a dark color, a Bible reference for a favorite verse in black, and a decoration—mostly pink or red or yellow flowers, but some trees or rolling hills in green and blue.
