Page 14 of Wagon Train Hope
Her mouth fell open. Why would he want to knowthat? She drew her lips together so she could speak. “It’s long ago worn out.”
“Too bad.”
This time, she managed to keep her mouth from revealing her surprise. Rather than seek a reason for his comment, she returned to the initial question. “Why were you in Bruffin back then?” Six years was a long time ago, but surely, he wouldn’t have forgotten any more than she had.
“Visiting my ma’s burial spot.”
It was a reasonable explanation but—“Why didn’t your pa and Cecil come?”
He puffed his lips out and then sucked them back in a gesture of uncertainty and perhaps more. Yet she didn’t withdraw the question.
“They didn’t know I was going there.”
“You ran away?” Her back stiffened.
“No. Don’t be silly.”
“Then explain.”
His line dipped, and he lifted out another fish.
Her knee jittered while he rebaited his hook and dropped it into the water. And if he thought she’d forgotten—“Please explain. I’d like to know.” Surprisingly, she did, and not only in the hope of having him admit he’d noticed her. No, thedarkness in his eyes, even back then, had made her want to reach out and comfort him. Not that he’d welcome anything from her. She’d realized it then, and nothing had changed. Except they were older and now traveling together, whether it suited either of them.
“I was considering what I wanted in life.”
Huh? She hadn’t expected that answer. Walt was so sure of himself. She assumed he’d always been.
“Did you find it? Did you go back home? What were you looking for?” She assaulted him with questions as she tried to understand this new and somewhat disconcerting picture of him.
“I don’t know what I wanted. Or hoped to find. Grandpa had died a couple of years before. It seemed I’d spent my entire life on his farm, taking care of him, the animals, the crops…everything.” He shot her a look daring her to make more of his statement than she had the right. “It all hit me that summer. Losing Ma at such a young age. Losing Grandpa. Trying to take his place. Having…”
She searched his face for a clue to explain the way he broke off. Although he didn’t look at her, she glimpsed darkness in his eyes. Matching the darkness she’d seen six years ago. The truth hit her with such force she jolted. His pain was more than the loss of his mother at a young age or the death of his grandfather. He’d been hurt by someone. Hardly daring to breathe, she waited, hoping he’d say what it was.
“People”—his voice deepened—“maybe thought I was stuck in a life that wasn’t of my own choosing.”
“Were you?”
He took his time coming around to face her. “No one made me stay on the farm. Or take care of my grandmother.” Strength filled each word. Conviction.
She laughed. “So, whoever thought you were in the wrong place was mistaken?”
“You might say that.”
“Who said it to you? A girl, I suppose.” Oops. Those words rushed out, unfiltered, unguarded. Had she’d gone too far? Maybe even offended him. She clamped her lips together to stop further awkward questions. But before she could withdraw the comment or apologize for being inappropriate, he burst out laughing.
“A girl? I never took you for a romantic.”
She wanted to be annoyed, even offended because guessing the cause of his hurt didn’t make her a romantic…whatever he meant by that. All she felt was sympathy. “It hurts to be judged wrongly or rejected.” Would he realize the words applied to how he viewed her?
His amusement disappeared. They considered each other cautiously, curiously, expectantly.
“I’m sorry you’ve experienced that.” His quiet, soothing tone threatened a door she’d kept closed since, well, ever since she could remember. Her parents loved her. Of that, she had no doubt. But sometimes she felt, if not invisible, then overlooked.
She tossed her hair, hoping to convey nothing but disregard, and guided the conversation back to his problem.
“So, it was a girl?”
“I suppose it was.”
