Page 53 of Wagon Train Hope
“What made you do such a crazy thing?” Her voice shook despite her cross words.
“This.” He held up the yellow flower still clutched in his hand. He offered it to her. “I remembered you like sunflower yellow. It isn’t a sunflower, but close enough.”
She took it gingerly. Tears poured forth. “Don’t ever do that again.”
“Oh, Irene, sweet girl. Don’t cry.” He pulled her to his side and wrapped his arm around her.
Her tears continued to flow, and quiet sobs shook her shoulders.
“Shh, shh. Everything is fine. Just fine.” More than fine. He might have chosen a different way to have her in his arms again, but he wouldn’t change anything else as she burrowed her face into his chest and clutched his shirt. “We’re both safe. That’s all that matters.”
She shifted, staying in his embrace, her head pressed to his shoulder. “I never expected you’d be the one to do something risky, and I’d be the one to rescue you.”
“Guess you could say we make a perfect pair.” Would she hear the welcome in his voice?
She tipped her face up and studied him intently.
He knew the moment she understood what he meant and welcomed it. Her eyes glowed. Her lips curved. The warmth of that look set his heart galloping.
“Irene?” It was a request for permission.
“Walt.” It was her answer. Her agreement. He lowered his head and claimed the lips he’d tasted earlier in the day and found them sweeter than he remembered. He barely noticed the lingering salt.
He kissed her again, then sat back, enjoying the promise of a shared future. “Grandpa would pull out his Bible on an occasion such as this.”
When he pulled the little book from his pocket, she pokedhis ribs. “How many times did your grandfather almost get crushed by a boulder and rescued by a maiden?” Teasing rounded every word.
“You know what?” He paused, enjoying the anticipation in her face. “I never thought to ask him that, but I’m sure he had lots of adventures as a young man. He crossed the ocean in a leaky ship. Thought he would drown before they reached Halifax.”
“Was that when he started to read that?” She nodded toward the Bible.
“I’m guessing it is. His uncle presented him with this Bible upon his departure.” He opened the pages. “This is Isaiah chapter forty-three—a chapter Grandpa often read. ‘When thou passest through the waters, I will be with thee; and through the rivers, they shall not overflow thee: when thou walkest through the fire, thou shalt not be burned; neither shall the flame kindle upon thee.’ I think God has protected us.”
“I agree.”
The afternoon was getting on. They needed to return to the wagons, but neither of them moved, content to be safe in each other’s arms.
A movement on the rim above caught his attention. He stood up slowly and urged her to her feet, ignoring her whimper of protest. “Someone’s up there. We need to get back.” For the sake of those traveling and for their own.
13
Irene yawned and stretched so she could sneak a peek at the rim overhead without alerting whoever it was that their presence had been detected. She made out a movement, but it was gone before she got a good look. “Might it be Joe?”
“If it was, wouldn’t he ride down? No. Whoever that was didn’t want to be seen.”
“I guess that’s so.” That meant they should get back to the others in case… Well, she couldn’t entertain any thoughts of danger as she studied the flower he’d risked his life to get. Yellow as sunshine. What should she do with it? Then she had an idea. “Would you be offended if I asked for you to put it in your Bible? I have no way of keeping it safe, and it’s too valuable to let wither and die.” Would he understand why she valued it? Maybe she should tell him. But her tongue refused to say what she felt inside.
“I’d like that.” He pulled the tiny book from his pocket and opened it again to Isaiah. He broke off the long stem, leaving only an inch, arranged the petals, then closed thepages and squeezed them tight. “This is a memory we’ll share.”
Hmm, he didn’t only mean the flower or even the adventure of getting it, but all that happened afterward—the holding and kissing and sharing. She lifted her finger to his cheek. “I’ll never forget it.”
His warm hand curled around hers. “Nor will I.”
They might have lingered, but his gaze shifted past her. “They are still there. The sun is glistening off something.”
Like a gun barrel? She didn’t ask.
They coiled up the ropes and strapped them back on their saddles. Then, they rode toward the wagons. Walt had suggested they say nothing about seeing someone, and she agreed.
