Page 19 of Wagon Train Hope
She knew nothing about such a situation.
“It’s getting late.” Ma shielded her eyes to look to the north.
Gabe stood. “We might as well eat. If they arrive later?—”
“We’ll fix them something. Come on, Irene. Let’s get the meal ready.”
Irene followed Ma, grabbing an armload of wood to add to the red coals. Soon, the fire had flared and burned down, perfect for cooking over. Ma put potatoes to boil. Louise made cornbread. When everything was almost cooked, Irene turned her attention to the fish. The dollop of lard she added to the heavy cast iron griddle sizzled. She dipped each fish fillet into a cornmeal mix and dropped it into the hot pan.The sizzle released an aroma that had the others hurrying to the makeshift kitchen.
Turning her face away from the heat, she flipped each piece over while Ma dished out the potatoes, cornbread, and baked beans. One by one, her camp mates filed past Irene to get servings of fish. When Walt stood before her, she kept her attention on the griddle.
“Smells good.” His words rumbled from him. “Fine catch we got.”
Startled at the depth of his voice, she jerked up to look at him. His eyes were dark, bottomless. Soulful. Probing into the very depths of her heart. His mouth was neither a smile nor a frown. What did he mean? Was he hinting at anything more than food? Was he thinking of the pleasant time they’d had by the river? At least it had been pleasant for her. But he moved on, leaving her speechless. And frustrated. She didn’t like not knowing what a person meant.
Ma handed her a plate. “Time for you to eat.”
Irene put two fillets on her plate, pushed the griddle away from the heat, and surveyed the possible seats.
She might squeeze in between Ma and Angela. Or take the narrow space left beside Hazel and the baby. A wider spot was at Walt’s left side. It made sense for her to sit there, but she didn’t move in that direction. Instead, she strode past him and propped a foot on a wheel spoke, balanced her plate on her raised knee, and ate standing up, letting the others’ quiet conversation rumble past her.
A morsel of cornbread fell to the ground. Limpy scampered over to eat it. The dog sat on his bottom, hoping for more scraps.
She tossed him another mouthful, then took her plate back to where Louise had water heated to wash dishes. Ma cleaned up the food while Angela helped Louise with thedishes. Restlessness stirred Irene, and she strode away from the firelight to study the direction the wagon would return.
Nothing. Not so much as the stirring of a bird in the dusk.
Grass rustled behind her. She knew who it was before he spoke.
“They’ll camp somewhere for the night.” Walt’s words were calm. No doubt he expected she was worried and needed to be reassured.
She wasn’t, and she didn’t.
“I’ve every confidence they can take care of themselves.” Her words might have carried a sharpness to them, informing him she wasn’t worried.
“It’s a soft night.” He either didn’t hear her tone or didn’t care.
She stole a glance at him. Arms crossed. Hat tipped back. Moonlight highlighting his features into fragments. And a gentle, surprising smile softening his face.
“Didn’t take you for a romantic.” Would he realize the words echoed his comment while they were fishing?
White teeth flashed as he smiled. “Just stating a fact.”
“Huh?” She waved toward the sky. “You mean because the moon is so bright?”
“That and the breeze is gentle and cool. It carries—” He stopped so suddenly that her head jerked his way. The silvery light caught the way his mouth had flattened.
“Walt, what does it carry?” Why’d she sound almost…pleading? It didn’t make a lick of sense. She didn’t care what he was thinking. Nor did it matter how his enjoyment of a moment ago had been replaced with an expression that made her shiver.
His shoulders rose and fell. He sucked in air. “I was thinking of something my grandpa often said.”
The deep rumble of his voice raised fresh shivers along her spine. His emotions had been touched. So had hers.
“What did he say? If you don’t mind telling me.”
His mouth curved up. “He said the moon always reminded him of courting Grandma. He’d look up, smile, and say, ‘I told her that as long as we saw the same moon overhead, I’d feel her in my heart.’”
Irene’s throat tightened. She swallowed twice before she could speak. “That’s very romantic.”
