Page 66 of Wagon Train Hope
Gabe put an arm around Ma. “It will end. We’ll be fine.”
Ma leaned into Gabe’s embrace.
Irene’s gaze went past the oxen to where Walt stood, shaking mud from his boots. She longed to be in his arms.
They had planned to make their way into the nearest town at their earliest opportunity, but the rain had delayedthem. Neither of them wanted to leave the wagon train when traveling was so tough.
Nor, she admitted to Walt with a self-mocking laugh, did she want to get married looking like a muskrat. So, they waited. Never before had she been so impatient for things to change.
Walt stomped over to her side and stood silent until Gabe and Ma and their wagon moved on. Rain dripped from his hat just as it dripped from the one she’d borrowed to wear. They both wore slickers, but still, water ran down her neck. Her trousers were soaked to her knees.
The truth was, she’d give almost anything for dry clothes and a warm fire with a solid roof over her head. So long as Walt was with her.
She stroked her damp fingers along his cheek, ignoring the water that ran down inside her sleeve.
He caught her hand and cradled it in his. “I’m getting more and more impatient with this rain.”
A thrill warmed her heart. “Oh?” She did her best to sound innocent. “Why is that?”
He pulled her close, paying no attention to the water cascading from their hats. “I’m waiting for the day I can make you my wife, and we can spend the rest of our lives together.”
“Me too,” she whispered, his promise of forever making it impossible to speak any louder.
Cecil called for help, and they sloshed through the water to aid him in getting the oxen pulling Louise and Hazel’s wagon through a mud puddle.
“Sure glad we didn’t get rain while we were on the alkali flats,” Walt called.
“Thank God for that.” Their gazes connected over the distance. The days of waiting had given them time to share a growing trust in God’s leading.
“I’d like to choose a Bible verse to center our lives on,” he’d said one evening, and since she’d loved the idea, they’d discussed a number of verses, but none were what they wanted.
After the damp evening meal, when Ma and the others struggled to get a fire going and finally gave up, Walt and Irene withdrew to the shelter of a wagon. They both agreed they were too wet to go inside, so they hunkered underneath.
Walt pulled the little Bible out of his shirt pocket. “I have an idea.” He flipped the pages until he found the place he wanted. “This is Psalms chapter eighteen, verse two.” He paused to look at her. “I remember Grandpa quoting it often, but I couldn’t remember where to find it.” Turning back to the pages, he bent close to make out the fine print in the dim light. “‘The Lord is my rock, and my fortress, and my deliverer; My God, my strength, in whom I will trust.’” He stopped, waiting for her reaction.
“Walt, I love it. I believe we’ve both learned a lot about trusting God on this trip. I know I have.”
“Me too.” He tipped his head. “Listen.”
She cocked her head to catch what sound he meant. “It’s stopped raining.”
They peered out at the clear sky, revealing a crescent moon. He grasped her hand. “Irene, as long as we can see the moon, know this—I will cherish you in my heart.”
Her throat tightened at his sweet words. Words his grandpa had said. She leaned in for a kiss.
They started the journey late the next day as everyone insisted they wouldn’t move until they’d washed off the mud and dried the clothes and bedding. They took time for a quick noon meal before they set out. Because of their late start, she expected Joe to insist they travel until almost dark. Instead, he announced a halt while the sun was still above the horizon.
“Folks,” he called for their attention. “There is a sizable town north of here.”
Walt and Irene grinned at each other. “Are you suggesting what I think you are?” Walt asked.
Joe nodded. “Thought the two of you wanted to tie the knot. I half expected it back at Black Rock, but that never happened.”
“I deserve more than a shotgun wedding,” Irene said.
“She sure does.” Walt squeezed her hand. “What do you say, my lovely Irene, should we do it now?”
She looked down at her garb—the mud was gone from her trousers and boots but—“I say yes.”
