Page 30 of Wagon Train Hope
“Agreed,” she murmured.
They sank again into patient silence. Perhaps he was as unwilling to give up as she, a trait that must’ve carried him through many challenges—the deaths of his mother and grandparents, especially his grandfather. They’d obviously been close. And then there’d been the death of his hopes of a future with Adeline. One could admire that kind of endurance.
An unfamiliar sensation twisted inside her chest. She didn’t have a name for it…or rather didn’t care to confront it, for it felt strangely like acceptance. With a decisive shake of her head, she dismissed it.
The shadows in the trees shifted. She raised her rifle. Walt did the same.
A young buck came from the trees, paused to sniff the air, then eased toward the water. Irene hesitated, admiring the innocent creature’s grace. Sometimes, it was hard to think of the beautiful animal as being a food source.
A shot rang out, and the deer crumpled to the ground. Letting Walt bring it down was a relief.
Still, she was immediately on her feet, pulling her knife from her boot sheath.
Walt was ahead of her, his knife at the ready.
With both of them working, they had the deer dressedout in record time. She brought the horses forward and helped him hang the meat on their mounts.
“Now to catch up with the wagons.” They rode from the trees and climbed the nearest hill.
Long shadows streaked the land. The sun dipped toward the west, shining in their eyes.
Irene stood in her stirrups and squinted into the distance. Not a sign of three covered wagons. Not that it concerned her. She’d ride west until she caught up. She looked over her shoulder. Those bootless, horrible men posed no danger.
Nevertheless, she urged her horse into a gallop, calling back to Walt, “We’ve been gone a long time.”
“Are you worried?” He kept pace.
She slowed. “Guess not.” Should she feel guilty about being absent for so long? But she didn’t. In fact, spending the afternoon with Walt had been fun and productive.
Solely because they brought back meat for the camp. No. Honesty required she admit that providing meat wasn’t the only reason the afternoon had been productive and enjoyable. Perhaps it wasn’t even the most compelling reason. Her view of Walt had shifted another degree. He was a good listener and observant.
A grin widened her mouth. Half an hour later, the wagons came into view, tucked into a grove. The setting sun gave the canvases a pink hue. A curl of smoke rose through the branches.
“They’ll be glad of fresh meat,” she said as they angled toward the camp.
“Wait.” Walt pulled up. “Is something moving in the trees? There to the right of where the wagons are.”
Her heart raced up her throat at the dark shape that could’ve been man or beast or nothing but the shadows. But it was too substantial to be the latter.
Was someone sneaking around? “It can’t be that bunch from this morning.”
“Unless they stole some horses from nearby.”
How foolish of her to overlook that possibility.
Walt wantedto ride full blast to the camp and prepare for defense, but surprise was his best weapon. That, his rifle, and Irene at his side. Nice to be confident he could count on her.
They both slowed and clung to the shadow of the hill and the degree of cover it provided as they approached the trees.
They eased to the crest to study the layout.
“Do you see anything?” he whispered, straining into the darkening trees.
“No.” Her eyes narrowed. “Were we fooled by the waving branches?”
He continued to lean over his saddle horn. “I suppose it’s possible but?—”
“Highly unlikely? Yeah, I agree. But I see nothing now.”
