Page 26 of Wagon Train Hope
Everyone was safe.That’s all that mattered. Walt told himself the same words over and over. Irene had done well. She’d surprised those men when she shot the leader’s gun out of his hand. Before that, she’d startled the other one when she sneaked up on him. The truth was it surprised him, too. He wanted to be cross because she wasn’t a shivering, retiring female crouching in the back of the wagon praying she wouldn’t be seen. Instead, she’d stood up to the horrible men. A smile began in the pit of his stomach. Sometimes, she surprised him, but in a good way.
They traveled for three hours before Joe called a halt.
“We’ll noon here.”
As the oxen rested, the travelers gathered round to consume the cold meal and demanded to know how Cecil and Joe had gotten tangled up with that unsavory bunch.
“It was a crude little town,” Cecil began. “It’s owned and run by a Mr. Gordon. He doesn’t deal kindly with visitors, but we were fortunate that the blacksmith helped us repair the wheel. He warned us that if Mr. Gordon or his underlings learned of our presence, he’d demand an exorbitant fee for the repairs. And hinted we’d have to pay a hefty price for passage out of town.”
“We were prepared to leave as soon as possible.” Joe paused from eating biscuits to explain.
“But that pair—the ringleaders—discovered us.” Cecil shook his head as if regretting something. “They said their boss didn’t care to do business with—” He didn’t finish. He didn’t need to. They’d all heard how the leader spoke of Joe. “They wouldn’t let us leave town. But the men guarding ushad too much to drink and fell asleep before dawn. The rest, you know.”
“Thank God for His mercies.” The words rang out from Pa.
Walt downed the contents of his cup. “And thanks to our traveling companions for being prepared and for defending our little wagon train.”
No wonder Pa insisted on accompanying the Woods women. They were, for the most part, defenseless. Walt’s gaze came to Irene—for the most part, but not quite.
He didn’t realize he was grinning widely until she blinked and lowered her gaze. Unable to force his attention away, he waited, and sure enough, she raised her head and looked at him across the clearing. Light flared in her eyes, searing his thoughts until…until…
Joe sucked back the last of his water. “Time to move on. We’re through the worst of the rocky area. We have an easy few miles ahead.”
Few miles? And then what? Joe’s words sent a shiver across Walt’s neck. Ignoring it, he pushed to his feet, handed his cup and plate to Marnie, and returned to his horse.
“I wonder what lies beyond the ‘few miles’ of easy travel.” Irene spoke at his elbow. Not that he hadn’t been aware of her following him. Even without looking at her, he sensed her movements.
“Let’s hope it’s not people like those back there.”
“What?” Her laugh carried across the verdant, rolling grassland. “You didn’t enjoy the little”—she jabbed her thumb over her shoulder—“adventure?”
“Adventure? Is that what you call it?” Amusement rose up his chest in a flood. He tipped his head back and laughed.
“Yup.” A nonchalant toss of her head sent her hair into a fan of golden strands.
“Would you have felt the same way if they’d overpoweredus?” His question was soft as he relived the fear that had grabbed his throat while he rode toward the two defenseless wagons alone in the vast Canadian landscape. Pa would have his rifle ready. And likely Irene would, too. But was it enough? Would he witness everyone he cared for being shot, or worse, by evil men? “Grandpa taught me to pray and trust God for protection, but my faith was seriously challenged today. What if—” He couldn’t finish.
“Walt, we made a good pair back there.” She rode slightly ahead.
Surprise and pleasure raced through him, leaving him speechless. He gathered his wits together and caught up with her. “Did you just pay me a compliment?”
“Nope.” Her look was saucy. “Just stating facts.”
“Sure sounded like you said something approving.”
She shifted to give him a direct look. “Walt Miller, don’t be begging for compliments. It isn’t manly.” Grass flying up from her horse’s hooves, she galloped forward.
He raced after her. “It sounds like you think I’m manly,” he called above the thundering hooves.
“Hah. Sounds like you need someone to verify it for you.”
Laughter, pure and sweet, rose. He slowed to a walk. “Nope. Sure don’t.”
As soon as she realized he’d fallen back, she pulled up until they rode side by side.
“Looks like good deer country.” She pointed to the nearby stream they followed, the water sheltered by overhanging trees and leafy bushes. “Let’s go hunting.”
Hunting with Irene at her invitation? That wasn’t an invite he was going to turn down, although it wasn’t the time of day for the best results. “Good idea.” He called to Joe, informing him of their plans. Then, they rode toward the river. At the trees, they both reined in and dismounted, tying the horseswhere they could graze, never once needing to inform the other of their plans. How nice to know she enjoyed hunting the same way he did—stalking on foot. Being equal to their prey.
