Page 29 of Wagon Train Hope
With a decisive shake of her head, she dismissed her disturbing questions and focused on the green trees. She plucked a round, olive-colored leaf from the bush beside her. Overhead, she pulled a long, narrow one, its color holding a hint of yellow. The tree past Walt’s shoulder had leaves with three pointed segments.
She ran her fingers along the two leaves she’d picked. “The different-shaped leaves each tree produces alwaysamaze me. God could have made them all the same. Instead, He had made each unique.” Would he think her comment silly?
“Just as each species of bird and animal is unique.” He whistled five clear notes—a perfect lark imitation.
“That’s good.” She’d tried often to imitate the sound and always failed.
He studied the leaves. His voice deepened as he spoke. “‘The heavens declare the glory of God; and the firmament sheweth his handywork. Day unto day uttereth speech, and night unto night sheweth knowledge.’”
“Psalm nineteen. Pa often quoted it.” Hearing Walt repeat one of Pa’s favorite passages wrapped a sense of peace around her and brought a memory to the fore. “I once found an injured sparrow and carried it home to Pa, asking him to make it better. The little thing fluttered so madly even with the injured wing. I asked Pa why it was doing that. It was going to hurt itself worse.” She stroked the leaves she held. “Pa said the bird was afraid. Fear made it refuse our help.”
“What happened?”
“He set the bird on the ground and said the kindest thing we could do was leave it in peace.” They’d walked away—Irene with great reluctance. Pa had said something else then. How people could be like that? Sometimes refusing the very thing they needed. He’d gone on to talk about the things God offered—salvation, protection, guidance, and wisdom. They’d reached the barn, and he patted her arm—much the same way Walt had minutes ago. His parting words were as clear as if he had said them only hours ago. “We must learn not to turn away from help offered by either God or man.”
It wasn’t as if she turned away from help. Having the Millers with them today provided much-needed and welcome protection.
She shuddered to think what might have happened toHazel or Petey or any of them if they’d been alone when that bunch of ruffians came riding up.
“Something wrong?” Walt asked.
“What?”
“You shivered.”
“I was thinking of those men.” Remembering the way Swarthy had gone to Hazel’s wagon made her tremble again.
“They were an unsavory bunch,” Walt said by way of agreement.
“Thank you for helping us.”
He nudged her shoulder. “It was a team effort. We did good together.”
Yes, they had.
Peace and pleasure softened places in her heart.
They might sit there all day and not see any game, but somehow, the prospect didn’t bother her. Afternoon shadows lengthened. A breeze stirred the leaves and released a scent she could only describe as green. The water meandered by on a gentle journey.
Irene focused on the narrow trail though she regularly scanned her surroundings, knowing animals—and people—could approach from any direction.
Warmth radiated from Walt. Pebbles shifted as he rearranged his feet.
She could sit for hours without discomfort—a skill she had honed over the years—but perhaps he wasn’t as comfortable. For his sake, she might suggest they give up, but it went against her nature to admit defeat.
A faint sound of a different nature had her attention. Walt noticed it at the same time, and they readied their rifles as they waited. Soon, a doe with twin fawns tiptoed from the shadows. The doe lifted her head, sniffing for danger. Walt and Irene were downwind and sitting motionless, hidden in the shadows. Neither of them moved. Neither of them shot.Only starvation would make Irene shoot a mother deer, and even then?—
Warmth filled her heart. Walt wasn’t going to shoot either.
The trio drank and then slipped away.
Irene released a huge sigh. “That was a beautiful sight.”
“Agreed.”
That one soft-spoken word erased any lingering resentment.
“We’ll wait for something else?” he asked.
