Page 59 of Wagon Train Hope
“Look.”
She followed the direction he pointed. A square of yellow light flickered in the distance. “That must be where that settler Joe told us about lives. He sounds like a strange man.”
“I’d say so. Though the girls seemed reasonable enough. I think the saddlemaker has hopes of winning the eldest daughter. I noted the way he looked at her.”
A cold spear drove through her insides. Jealousy? If so, she didn’t like admitting it. She had no right. One gift and a few kisses meant something about his feelings, but he hadn’t declared himself. And until he did…
Light was fading from the land. She lingered, giving him plenty of time to speak the words she wanted to hear. He must surely feel the same way she did.
“It looks like travel should be easy for a few days.”
That was it? After holding her, kissing her, and giving her a journal, he was only interested in where the wagons would go? She eased from under his arm. “I suppose we should get back before Ma starts to worry.” It was only an excuse, but he didn’t protest, leaving her hollowed out and sore inside as they made their way back to camp. The shadows had deepened, but no place more than in her heart.
He must care. He’d given her every reason to think so. But he hadn’t confessed it.
Had she been too eager to believe what she wanted to believe?
Sitting around the campfire making pointless conversation was more than she could bear, so she excused herself. “I’m suddenly very tired.” She slipped away before she had to listen to any questions or concerns about her early departure.
At the wagon, she opened her travel bag and touched the journal. There was enough light that she might write a few words. But all she could think to say was how disappointed she was. How foolish to let silly feelings get away on her. She’d misread what the gift meant.
With a decisive nod, she closed the bag, the journal still in it, and gathered her bedroll into her arms. Bertie wasn’t under the wagon yet, but he would be soon. By the time he came, she’d be fast asleep. Or at least pretending to be. All she wanted was the escape of dreamless slumber, but although she kept her eyes closed and tried to breathe slowly, a lump in her chest made the air she sucked in catch partway down almost like a hiccough.
A little later, Bertie smoothed his blankets close by. Hewas trying to be quiet but talked to himself and the animals. It was never possible to tell which was which. “Alice, you in the way. Wait for me to be ready. This look good. Bertie, be quiet. Shh. Not want to wake Irene. Her went to bed early ’cause her was tired. Irene work too hard. Limpy, sleep there. Now all you be quiet.” The covers rustled. The goat bleated. The cats purred and Limpy snored.
Yeah, Bertie and his pets were very quiet! Ha ha.
He mumbled. A sound he made in his sleep.
Irene shifted to her back and stopped pretending to be sleeping. The wagon above her was a dark shape. The fire was reduced to red coals. The cooking frames made dark flickering shadows.
She must have dozed, for the next thing she knew, Walt whispered to his pa that it was time for Gabe to take over guard duty. A breeze whispered through the grass and sighed around the wheels. Soft footsteps padded away. Something rustled. She pretended not to know it was Walt crawling into his bedroll.
Exhausted, she fell asleep.
An explosion rocked her awake. It sounded like a gun blast. She blinked in the gray dawn and held her breath until she located the source and cause.
“You’ll do right by me daughter.” The harsh words shattered any peace that lingered and brought them all from their slumbers to the sight of a bearded man with a mass of black hair and a large rifle pointed at?—
Walt?
What was going on?
Walt stiffened,but he dared not move. Not while he stared at a gun that had gone off close enough to his head to leavehis ears ringing. What did this man want? Why was the man shouting at him?
Something touched his hip. He hurriedly brushed it off. But it wasn’t a snake or other critter…at least in the normal sense. It was a hand.
A very small hand.
He scrambled away. Not until he was at the end of the wagon did he turn to see what he’d touched. He gulped. One of the Miss Harrisons lay on a blanket next to where he’d been only ten seconds ago. Her hair was down and mussed as if she’d been asleep. She wore a?—
He swallowed hard.
It looked like a pink nightdress. Why in all of creation would she be there? Wearingthat? And smiling in such a fashion?
“Young fella. Step out and make yer intentions known.” The bearded stranger, who must be Mr. Harrison, nudged Walt none too gently with his boot.
If Walt needed any more encouragement, the end of the big-bore rifle not inches from his head provided it. “I’m coming.” He scrambled to his feet. He didn’t need his boots. Though it would be nice if someone put them on his feet before they lowered him to the ground after his brains were blown out.
