Page 16 of Wagon Train Hope
Walt jolted back a bit, then narrowed his eyes. But at her continued merriment, he grinned and then laughed. “I don’t know what I said, but I’m glad it amused you.”
She sucked in a deep breath to quell her glee. “It was such a perfect description.”
He leaned back on his elbow to study her. “Then why were you wanting him to be your beau?”
She plucked a blade of grass and ran her finger along the length. “Well, he was handsome in a pinched sort of way.” Grinning, she lifted her gaze to his and was rewarded withanswering amusement. “And I suppose I wanted to feel I was approved…accepted.”
He tugged a feathery weed from the ground and tickled the back of his hand with it. “I’m surprised it mattered to you.”
“Me too.” She waved in the air, dismissing Terrence. “When he gave me an ultimatum, I jumped to the back of my horse and galloped all the way home. Never spoke to him again.”
“That’s more like what I would expect from you.”
There was no criticism in his tone. Had he changed his mind about her behavior?
Or was he saying it was how hethoughtshe’d act? And he’d made it as clear as the air above them that he didn’t like the way she behaved.
Not that she cared. She hadn’t let a man’s opinion of her matter since she’d ridden away from Terrence. And yet, she couldn’t deny the way her insides stung. Maybe criticism and disapproval weren’t something she’d ever be able to ignore completely.
Walt tossedthe battered weed over his shoulder. He continued to lean on his elbow, studying the gal before him. Wild? Or free? Hungry for attention or following her own rebellious path through life? He didn’t have the answers. But of one thing he was certain—she was interesting to talk to. He blinked. She was also the first one who’d guessed Adeline had hurt him. Or did he mean challenged him?
He flopped to his back and stared up at the sky.
“You ever play cloud games?” Her voice disrupted his thoughts.
“Huh?” Of course, he had. Mostly with Cecil, who had amuch better imagination. “Clouds are just clouds. Sometimes, they carry rain. Sometimes, they forecast a storm. Sometimes, they are dry and empty.”
Irene considered him, then lay on her back, an appropriate distance between them. “Bertie loves doing it.” She studied the sky. “Look, it’s a house.”
“It’s a cloud.”
“Now it’s someone smiling at us.”
“Still a cloud.”
“Oh, look at how the sun’s rays fan out. Like—” She stopped but not before a note of awe warbled in her voice.
“Like what?”
The fabric of her clothing made a shushing sound as she sat up, hugged her legs close, and regarded him. “When Pa saw the rays slanting through the clouds like that, he used to say it was a reminder that God was always watching us. Each of those rays carried a blessing from God.”
The clouds forgotten, he turned to watch her.
Her gaze returned to the spears of light.
“I vaguely remember your pa.”
Eyes bluer than the sky jolted to him. “What do you remember?”
“He helped us board the train when we moved back to our grandparents. He gave Cecil and me each a candy stick, put his hand on our heads, and prayed for us.”
She blinked at him, then refocused on the sky. Her throat worked. “That sounds like Pa.”
“I’m sorry he’s gone.” He lifted his hand, thinking to touch her arm, offer a bit of comfort, but changed his mind and intertwined his fingers instead.
“Me too.” Dampness dulled her words.
“You must miss him a lot.” What a silly thing to say. Of course, she did. But he couldn’t think of any other way to convey his sympathy.
