Page 38 of Wagon Train Hope
Though his suggestion startled her, she dropped to the ground. They sauntered side by side, leading their horses. No reason to admit she’d often thought this very thing was her idea of a perfect outing with a man. Instead, she gave her surroundings close attention. Not that she expected anything special or unusual to reveal itself.
“Was it hard having a brother like Bertie?” He held up ahand to stop her answer. “I know you care for him in a special way, and you would protect him from any harm.” His voice deepened. “I’m also aware people can be unkind.”
The lump in her throat made it hard to swallow. Impossible to speak. “Children are especially cruel,” she managed to choke out.
They slowed by a stand of stately trees. “Let’s sit.”
She lowered herself to the ground, her back to a trunk. He sat against the nearest one; close enough the warmth from his body reached her, yet far enough they didn’t touch. She faced the western sky, breathing deeply to ease the memories.
Without his urging, she brought one to the surface. “When I was about nine or ten and walking home from school, some big boys were taunting Bertie and calling him a dummy.” Her voice strengthened. “He was already grown and already big. He could have hurt them, but he never would. It wouldn’t occur to him to defend himself. I marched up and said he was a lot nicer than they were.”
Walt chuckled. “I can picture you doing it. All fight and defense.”
“Yeah, well, I meant it. Bertie is so gentle. I never have been. My anger burned so hot I saw red. I stood between them and Bertie and told him to go home, and then to get my point across, I kicked dirt at the bullies.”
Walt laughed, a sound as gentle as the morning sun. “I’m guessing you couldn’t lay your hands on a thick branch or rock, or they’d have gotten worse.”
“They would have. One boy grabbed my arm. Said he’d teach me some manners. I twisted away and kicked him and then started to run. They thundered after me.”
Walt didn’t laugh now. Instead, he looked her full in the face, his sympathetic expression almost her undoing.
Sucking in a steadying breath, she continued. “They werebigger and faster. One of them tripped me. I went face down in the dirt. Scraped my arms.” Horrible how her voice shook, but she couldn’t help it. “One of them kicked me. It was all I could do to scramble out of their way.” She shook her head. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this. I’ve never told anyone.” She smoothed the fabric of her trousers over her knees and kept her face averted.
He lifted a finger to her chin, his touch warm and gentle as he turned her to face him. “I’m sorry how you were treated. Why didn’t you tell anyone what happened?”
Her chest rose and fell. “I don’t know. I dried my tears and wiped my face on my skirt before I got home so no one would know I’d been crying. My arms were bleeding. So were my knees. I really wanted some sympathy, but when I got home, everyone was searching for Bertie. He was upset and frightened by how they’d treated him. No one noticed me except for Hazel, who told me to help.” Irene shrugged, doing her best to convince him she’d put the incident out of her mind…or at least out of her concerns.
“I knew where he often hid. I hated the place. It was in some bushes by an old shed. Every time I went there, I got bit by some kind of bug, or spiders crawled over me. But I found him there and brought him home. It wasn’t until bedtime that Ma noticed the scrapes and thought I’d gotten them rescuing Bertie.” Why couldn’t she control the telltale tremble in her voice? Why must it reveal things she didn’t want to reveal or admit?
He reached for her hand and squeezed it.
It was the last thing she expected, and she almost pulled away, proving to herself she didn’t need sympathy. But something inside her melted at his touch.
“You are a good sister…a good person.” His words were at odds with how he often treated her, but she didn’t let that mar the way she felt.
He lifted her hand from her knees and sandwiched it between both of his, his touch warm and gentle, his fingers strong and leathery. A working man’s hands. But a lover’s touch.
That thought came and went before she could forbid it or analyze it.
She allowed herself to enjoy the contact. She didn’t know what to call it or how to describe it. A sob choked at her lungs, and she breathed deeply to calm it.
Her gaze focused. Her thoughts cleared. She pulled at her hand to free it, but he tightened his grip. She didn’t fight him. But she meant to shift the direction of his thoughts. And hers.
“It’s your turn to tell me something about you.”
“Hmm. Well, I’ve never had to beat bullies away from Cecil, though I did drag him away from a fight when he was much younger.”
“Cecil? Imagine that.” She laughed. He was definitely less concerned with keeping rules than his older brother. “Only the once?”
“There might have been a few more.” He joined her laughter.
Her insides were as mellow as evening sunshine. “How long did Joe think he’d be gone?”
“Three or four days.”
“Why did he draw a map? Why don’t we just keep riding west?”
“Generally, that’s what we’ll do. Joe says we’ll soon reach a valley, but we aren’t to be fooled by the name. He says it’s dry, barren, and full of alkali water.”
