Page 45 of Wagon Train Hope
She managed to keep him moving, their feet kicking up grass crushed by the hooves and wheels ahead of them. “To know Mama and me and Carson and Ruby and Hazel and Angela love you.”
“And Petey and Louise and Mr. Gabe and Mr. Cecil and Mr. Walt?” He bounded a step, his big grin widening. “Maybe Mr. Joe?”
“They all love you.” The answer satisfied him, although she could have mentioned a few more needs—protection, patience, kindness—all of which his family and, indeed, all who traveled with them extended to Bertie.
“What you needs?”
The question startled her. She seldom acknowledged her own needs and didn’t expect others to, especially Bertie. Truth flowed through her insides. Hadn’t Walt kind of noticed them?
But Bertie waited for her answer, so she said, “I need love just like you and everyone does. I guess I need to feel useful, too.”
Bertie stopped so suddenly, and Irene took another step before she realized it. She turned. As soon as she did, Bertie wrapped his big arms around her and crushed her to his chest in an embrace that almost buried her. “Irene, I loves you.”
“Thanks, Bertie. I love you too.” Her words were muffled against his broad chest. “Let me go so I can breathe.”
He released her to suck in a deep breath and rearrange her shirt.
“Now, let’s keep up.” Ma and Gabe’s wagon, the last in the very small train, was a distance ahead. They caught up, and Bertie went to Ma’s side.
“Mama, I loves you.”
Ma looked faintly startled before she squeezed Bertie’s hand. “Son, I love you too.”
All this loving was doing strange things to Irene’s insides, making them expand and then shrink over and over—signaling joy and fear, though she was at a loss to explain why fear was part of what she felt. “I’m going to ride for a while.” She swung into her saddle and trotted ahead until she reached Walt’s side.
“Everything all right?” he asked.
“I think so.” She rubbed her chest and patted her arms.
“What’s wrong?”
Was he genuinely concerned? Warmth filled her topsy-turvy insides.
“Nothing, except I just survived a bear hug from Bertie.”
He blinked. Then burst out laughing. “No broken bones?”
That teasing note brought a soft, joyful chuckle. “It was good.”
The wagons rattled. The pots banged. Bits of conversation floated from those behind them.
“Speaking of hugs—” Something in Walt’s tone drew her full attention. He had his attention on navigating around a bush, but then he fixed his gaze on her—dark and intense enough to make her breath catch in her throat. “This morning, while we were singing hymns, I remembered my mother hugging me.” His words sounded like they were being pulled across a washboard.
“You didn’t have memories of your mama?” What a sad, lonesome thought.
“I remember leaving Bruffin without her.” Air whistled past his teeth. “But this was different. It was like—” His voice cracked, and he stopped talking.
Irene waited. Sometimes, it was hard to find words to say what was in the heart.
“Today, I remembered how it made mefeelto have her hug me.”
He didn’t need to say more. She understood. He was remembering being loved. “Love is in the air.” It was a silly thing to say but?—
“What do you mean?”
“Last night, I felt loved by Ma. This morning, Bertie is all about love.” She told him of her conversation with her big brother. “And now you’re remembering the love of your mother.”
“Indeed.”
