Page 55 of Wagon Train Hope
“I guess that’s good news, isn’t it?” She wanted to believe it but wasn’t quite ready to.
“Time will tell.”
Good. He felt the same caution.
She might have lingered there longer, but Gabe came out.
“Son, you ought to get some sleep before your turn on guard duty.”
Irene sprang to her feet and, saying a strangled good night, hurried away. Her cheeks were still burning when she spread her bedroll beside Bertie. With a contented sigh, she stretched out.
It had been a good day. The first of many she hoped.
The next morning,they headed out more eagerly than they had for days. A trip to town was a special treat. All except Bertie, who begged not to go. Ma promised he could remain in the wagon while the others went.
“I’ll stay with him,” Joe volunteered. He probably wasn’t anxious to encounter strangers after his last trip to a town.
She shuddered at the memory of those men from Royal. No doubt their intentions were purely evil.Thank You, God, for Your protection.
They set up camp within sight of buildings yet far enough away to ensure a degree of privacy. They parked the wagons in a large triangle shape, the oxen penned inside with ropes strung out between the wagons to keep them corralled. Joe assured them he would keep them inside.
“The hay you all gathered will keep them content for hours.” Joe had suggested they cut grass for the oxen to enjoy while they were gone. He lounged against the front of Ma and Gabe’s wagon, where he could see Bertie in the back of Ruby and Angela’s wagon. If Bertie sensed trouble, he’d disappear under a pile of blankets, and no one would suspect he was there. His goat and Limpy would sit close by, and the cats would cuddle under the covers with him.
Irene paused to say goodbye to Bertie and thank Joe for staying with him. Then, she fell in step with the others on the trek to town. “I miss my horse.” She preferred riding, but since Walt and the others planned to walk, she did the same.
For a few yards, she walked beside her sisters. “You walk too slow,” she muttered and hurried ahead to join Walt and Cecil. As if receiving an unseen signal, Cecil fell back to walk with the ladies. Ma and Gabe brought up the rear.
Walt carried the five pairs of boots in a sack slung over his shoulder. “I can smell them clear through the burlap.” He wrinkled his nose, causing Irene to chuckle, though the need to laugh had been lingering at the back of her throat sinceshe’d wakened. Just waiting for an appropriate time to be freed.
Her words bubbly, she pointed out the tree at the side of the trail they followed. “It’s fallen and can’t get up.” It had been broken at some point, perhaps hit by lightning or in a fierce wind, but it survived, growing upward from the broken spot.
Walt studied the tree. “I think there’s a lesson there.”
“Really? What lesson would you say?”
“Perhaps you can be knocked down, but you don’t have to give up.”
They were past the tree, but she glanced back. “I like that.”
“What lesson would you take from it?” His gaze left the tree to rest on her, filling her with sweet warmth.
It was lovely to feel his approval and perhaps more. But he waited for her answer, so she gathered her thoughts. “I don’t know if I can think of one better than yours.”
“Try. Just for the fun of it.”
“Very well.” Recalling yesterday and wanting to remind him of it as well, she said in a gentle tone. “I think it’s an illustration of the verses you read yesterday. Flames and water can’t destroy us because of God’s love and protection. Neither can whatever disaster touched that tree.” Her own words comforted her, and she turned again to look at the visual reminder of God’s care.
“I like that.” His voice deepened. “If God sees each sparrow that falls, I believe we can trust Him to watch over us.”
“‘Consider the lilies of the field.’” It was part of a Bible verse that had never before meant so much to her. The words wrapped her heart in loving silk. To share such a moment with him and feel they were of one accord sent joy through her that touched her eyes and made them want to water.
“It looks like a quiet little town.” Walt’s words brought her back to real life, although the sweetness and assurance lingered.
“Did Joe say what the name of it was?” she asked.
“Black Stone, Northwest Territories. Look, that must be why they named it so.” He pointed to a black boulder at the entrance.
“It’s the size of a house. Why didn’t they build the town elsewhere?”
