Page 24 of Wagon Train Promises
Would she notice the little bouquet he left for her? In hindsight, it seemed foolish. She’d barely be able to make out the flowers in the dim light, though the flames burned high enough to offer some assistance.
Everything grew quiet.
Fabric rustled.
“Cecil?”
“Yes?”
“Did you leave these flowers in here?”
“I thought you might enjoy them.” Really? What had he been thinking? She was there only to sleep. Not to dream or muse or wonder.
“That’s very kind of you. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” At least she’d said thank you, though she must surely wonder at the gesture.
“I’m sure they’ll give me sweet dreams.”
“I hope so. Good night.” A smile curved his lips. Good. She thought of sweet dreams not confusion as to why he’d done such a thing.
“Cecil?”
“Yes?”
“It was a good day.”
“It was.” He wanted to ask her what part or parts she’d considered good, but they needed to sleep. He lay back, his hands behind his head, and answered his question. It had been good talking to Louise, telling her about his grandparents, and hearing about her life, which hadn’t been easy.
He grinned into the flickering light. It was interesting to catch her whispered prayers that she didn’t intend for him to hear.
Other scenes replayed in his thoughts. How gentle and kind she was with Hazel. She was the sort of woman you could count on through thick or thin. Not like Myra, who only considered Cecil amusing until someone richer and more important came along.
He turned to face the fire. That was in the past. It no longer mattered. Not when he had a fresh, exciting future ahead.
Sleep must have claimed him, for he startled awake to the sound of a coyote yapping. They always sounded so close. He lay motionless, straining to hear what other sound had disturbed him. The grass rustled nearby. Snuffling indicated something there. A coyote? Or a bigger, more dangerous animal? Easing to his knees as quietly as possible, he found a chunk of wood and tossed it onto the coals. Sparks sprayed out, and flames erupted.
He looked across the fire into glowing amber eyes. A furry white tail shot upward, a broad white streak visible down the small animal’s back.
Cecil chuckled. A skunk. Not that they weren’t dangerous in their own way.
“Go away,” he muttered and waited for the animal to decide what it would do. If it stomped its feet and turned its back to Cecil?—
Well, Cecil eased to his feet, ready to escape.
The skunk sniffed and marched away, as regal as any king.
Cecil sank to the ground, soft laughter escaping his lungs. Wait until he told Louise about their night visitor.
“Cecil?” Her whisper barely disturbed the silence.
“I didn’t mean to waken you.”
“Was it a coyote?”
His answer began with a chuckle. “A saucy skunk.”
“Oh.” Her bedding rustled. The canvas walls shifted. “I hope you didn’t get sprayed.”
