Page 10 of Wagon Train Hope
Easing her feet through the grass, ready to stop should she see a snake, she made her way around the rocks.
“Eek.” The cry escaped.
Walt turned. “What? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” It was only a stick among the green blades that she’d thought was a snake. Not about to tell him, she crept ahead with continued caution.
A spray of dirt peppered the grass.
She stopped. Where had that come from?
“Look.” Walt pointed.
Looking required moving forward. Inch by cautious inch. A brownish, furry, half-buried animal sent dirt flying from a hole it was digging.
“It’s a badger.” Again, amusement in Walt’s voice. “No wonder the cat is scared. Badgers can be vicious. Don’t get too close.”
He might have saved his breath. She only wanted to get the cat and get back to the wagons. She eased to her left, checking each step for snakes, alternately eyeing the badger to see if it noticed her.
The badger backed up and stared at her with beady little eyes. Black and white stripes ran up the length of his long nose, and he curled his lips to reveal his teeth.
She froze. Her mouth dried so she couldn’t swallow. What if it decided to attack?
The badger studied her, then returned to his digging.
Walt’s arm snaked by her shoulder, and his hand clamped around the protesting cat. “Let’s get back.”
She wanted to be annoyed by how quickly he’d handled the situation, not giving her a chance to get the cat on herown, but gratefulness left no room for pettiness. “Is she all right?”
“She’s not happy, but she’s safe.”
Bertie stood, shielding his eyes as he looked at the various searchers. Walt rode toward him, Irene walking at his side.
“Mama, look!” He drew Ma’s attention toward them. “You got Smoke?”
“She’s here.” Walt and Irene soothed at the same time.
Bertie raced toward them in his loping, lopsided gait. He lifted his hands and took the cat from Walt. “Thanks, Mr. Walt. You a good man.”
“Thanks, Bertie.” Walt grinned down at Irene.
As if challenging her to refute Bertie’s claim? “Thanks for finding him,” she murmured and shifted her attention to Bertie, dismissing the little ping in her chest as nothing more than gratitude. Gratitude that the cat had been found and they’d be able to resume their travels.
In fact, Joe rode toward them. “What’s the problem?”
“Smoke jump out.” Bertie cradled the cat as he answered.
“Glad she’s safe.” Joe glanced around, perhaps making sure everyone was accounted for. “Let’s move.”
The pair, joined by Cecil, rode forward. Irene longed to be on the back of her horse, but she’d taken on the task of driving a wagon, and she returned to the seat and followed the first one.
With the rocks so plentiful, it was impossible to miss them all. The wagons bounced, and the wooden seat pounded her bottom. It was brutally hard on wheels and axles. Ahead of them lay a grassy valley. If only they made it that far without something breaking.God, help us. Keep us safe.
The wagons banged and creaked. The pots and pans hanging on the sides clattered like discordant bells. She triedto ignore the noise assault and concentrate on navigating the best route through the rock maze.
She glanced up. How much further did they have to go before they reached better ground? But the trail ahead wasn’t what held her attention. It was the lead wagon.
“Stop.” Would anyone hear her shout above the racket? She yelled again. Louder. More insistent. She must get someone’s attention. But no one heard. “Whoa.” The oxen stopped. Irene jumped to the ground and raced forward.
