Page 11 of Wagon Train Promises
“He wasn’t home?”
“Not much. When he was, he was kind, so don’t think otherwise.”
Seems she was a mite defensive. “I wasn’t. Where are your brothers now?”
“They both work for a ranch. Sammy joined Eddie when he was fifteen.”
“That must have been hard for you. Having them leave.”
“Sammy was ready. And it left me free to start my nurse’s training.”
He studied her. She looked past him even though she had to be aware of his interest. He didn’t turn away until she met his gaze.
“What?” she said.
“Did you ever think of going where they are?” Wouldn’t it have made sense after the three of them being as close as she made it sound?
“No. Well, maybe. But Eddie recently got married, and Sammy has a young woman that I expect he’ll marry.”
“So, they no longer need you? I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. It’s the way things are meant to be. We grow up and move on. Unless—” She looked back.
He guessed she looked across the river to the other wagons and their fellow travelers and to Hazel’s older brother, who accompanied them. A brother who had been born normal, but after fever and infection, he was now stuck in childhood: a man’s body but a child’s mind.
“Unless you’re like Bertie,” he finished for her.
“Hazel wouldn’t thank us for this conversation.” She pressed her lips together, signaling it was over.
Petey jerked free of their hands and trotted toward the trees.
They followed. The grass on top of the hill was relatively dry, but as they neared the trees, it grew wetter. Cecil scooped up Petey and put him on his shoulders.
“We should get back.” Louise walked by his side as they returned.
They paused at the wagon. Hazel still slept. Cecil amused Petey, keeping him out of wet grass while Louise tended to the pot of soup. Her movements were quick like it was something she’d done many times.
Since she was fourteen and likely before that. He pictured her helping her mother.
“Louise, if you don’t mind me asking, what happened to your ma?”
Louise had been addingspices to the pot, but her hands froze midair. Cecil’s question opened a door she’d closed after Mama’s passing and seldom opened. Most of her friends and acquaintances knew the story without her relaying it. “Matron at the hospital is the only one who asked me that question.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to intrude.”
“I suppose it’s normal enough to wonder.” She finished putting the ingredients in the pot, dusted her hands off, and twined her fingers together. “Mama delivered a baby. Things didn’t go well. Both of them died.” The words jerked from her throat.
“I’m so sorry.”
Now that she’d started, she had to finish. “They were buried in the same grave.” A lump crept up her throat. “I named the baby Sharon. I held her…” She sucked in air that did nothing to relieve a suffocating sensation. “I held her as she stopped breathing. She had her eyes open, looking at me. She was too early. And then—” She couldn’t continue and stirred the soup to disguise her struggle. “And then—” A whisper was all she could manage. “Then Mama died, too.”
“Oh, Louise.” He rose and took a step closer.
Perhaps he meant to pat her arm. She waved him away. Her feelings were too raw. Too fragile. One touch and she’d shatter.
“Mama didn’t die right away. She got sick. Fevered. I remember her calling out, saying things that made no sense. I was helpless to do anything. That’s when I knew I wanted to be a nurse. I would help people get better. I would bathe wee babies and help them live.”
Cecil settled back. “And take care of ailing friends.”
