Page 63 of Wagon Train Hope
A shudder ran up his spine and rattled his jaw. He’d escaped Miss Harrison’s clutches. But escape was not the word that came to his mind when he thought of Irene. Why had she turned down his offer? The answer didn’t come, but a stabbing pain in the middle of his chest did. He’d made it plain how he felt about her. A smile tugged at his lips as he recalled the sweetness of kissing her. But he sobered. Even the gift he’d given wasn’t enough.
He pushed aside thoughts of being inadequate. There must be some way he could persuade her to reconsider. She was worth fighting for.
The door clicked shut behind her, and he snapped intoaction. He raced down the aisle and burst out the door in time to see her galloping away, presumably back to the wagons. His groan muffled, he drew to a halt. He couldn’t hope to catch her without his horse.
But he would find a way and a time to ask why she’d refused him. Didn’t she care for him? An ache sucked the strength from him, and he wavered. No one must know how much it hurt.
Pa clapped him on the shoulder. “Guess this wasn’t what she had in mind.”
Whatdidshe have in mind? Marriage hadn’t come up in any of their discussions.
Marnie came up on his other side and patted his arm. “I think the whole situation caught her off guard.”
Unwilling to hear any more offers of sympathy or excuses for her behavior, Walt strode toward the camp, keeping ahead of the others.
The aroma of coffee and fried pork greeted his arrival. He accepted a cup of hot brew from Hazel.
There was no sign of Irene. No one offered an explanation, and he didn’t ask. Not until the others arrived and gathered around for breakfast did she join them, bouncing Petey on her hip and ignoring Walt. She fed the baby breakfast and then helped Pa with the oxen. When Walt joined them, she strode away to help Louise.
Wouldn’t she even allow him a chance to explain? Her refusal burned like a branding iron.
His sisters sent sympathetic glances in his direction, but he ignored them. He didn’t want sympathy. He wanted to talk to Irene.
Somehow, he’d find a way.
What better time than when she rode ahead of the wagons? He’d tell her how glad he was that she’d stopped theHarrisons from trapping him. He’d tell her how he wanted no one but her at his side.
But she tied her horse to the middle wagon and rode with Ruby and Angela. At the noon break, she sat next to Hazel and helped feed Petey. That afternoon, she walked with Louise.
He slowed until he was within talking distance of the ladies, but she hurried around to the wagon’s other side. Her rejection couldn’t be any plainer. Or any more painful.
Tonight. He’d make a way she couldn’t escape. They needed to talk.
But that night, she stuck close to the cooking fire, helping prepare the meal. Then she squirmed in between Ruby and Angela as they ate.
He strode away, not wanting anyone to know how her actions hurt him. If she’d just talk to him. Explain why she had refused his offer of marriage. Did she expect more courting? Was she blaming him for Miss Harrison’s behavior? Only the memory of their shared kisses and the times they’d spent together allowed him to harbor hope. They’d been sweet times. Or so he thought.
That night, he lingered near the wagon where she slept beside Bertie. “Irene,” he whispered, hoping she’d hear and come talk to him.
Alice’s bleat was the only answer.
Two days later, she’d managed to avoid him at every turn. Her actions were clearly intentional, leaving him with a consuming pain in the pit of his stomach.
Somehow, he must put an end to this awkwardness, this avoidance. This pain.
His pa joined him as Walt watched the oxen graze after the day of travel.
“Son, it disturbs me to see this strain between you and Irene.”
Not half as much as it disturbed him, but Walt kept the thought to himself.
“I could talk to her if you think it would help.”
“Thanks, Pa, but this is something we need to work out between us.”
“I understand. But if there’s anything I can do…”
There was nothing anyone could do if Irene wouldn’t talk to him. “I think I’ll go scout ahead a bit.” Joe had already done that, but Walt needed time to think. Time alone.
