Page 3 of Wagon Train Promises
“No.” Petey shook it off.
Cecil tried again.
Again, Petey resisted.
There was more than one way to handle this. Cecil scooped up the red ball, stuck it under the blanket, and drew the fabric around Petey.
“You want to keep your ball warm?”
Petey’s blue eyes studied Cecil as if the boy wondered if it was a trick. Then he nodded, pulled the ball to his lap, and shrugged back into the blanket.
“You handled that well.”
Cecil jerked his attention to Louise. She’d said something good about him? Hadnoticedhe did something good? In the weeks they’d been traveling together, this was a first. Not that she said bad things. Mostly, she seemed to ignore him. Not that it mattered to him. Not in the least. He had other things on his mind. Like?—
Well, other things.
Louise duckedher head at the surprise in Cecil’s dark-brown eyes. They always made her heart do strange things. Not that she would dignify the silliness by giving those things a name. After all, she knew what she was. Her life had left little time for frivolity. And now she was a nurse who meant to take her skills to the far west.
Besides, she couldn’t help but notice his interest in Hazel. Like the time she’d come upon them by themselves in a stand of trees. They’d been in an embrace. One that suggested more than friendliness. Or the time she’d seen them sitting side by side by some water. His arms had been around Hazel and Hazel’s head pressed to his shoulder. And there was?—
Never mind. Suffice it to say she’d seen plenty of evidence that they were interested in each other.
The pair were close to the same age. Hazel was twenty-three. She’d heard enough discussion to know Cecil was a few months younger. The two would make a great couple. Cecil was good with the baby, and Hazel needed someone to take care of her.
This is why Louise joined the wagon train when she heard Hazel meant to travel west with her mother and sisters and brother to join the younger brother at Fort Taylor, where he was a North-West Mounted Police. She would make sure her friend got enough sleep. Ate properly. Had time to take care of her baby. Besides that, the trip sounded romantic. Nursing in the West. Traveling on a wagon train. Even the trials they’d encountered were exciting. Or at least interesting. Or did she mean challenging?
She might have dreamed of doing wonderful nursing things on the trip made by wagon and not by rail because Hazel’s brother Bertie was afraid of trains and strangers. But everyone was surprisingly healthy. Even Hazel now huddled beside her, shivering under the blanket.
Louise pulled the blanket tighter around her friend and drew her into her arms. “You’ll warm up in no time.”
Hazel’s head rested on Louise’s shoulder. The poor woman was tired. Still nursing the baby in the morning and evening took a lot out of her. As did the trip. Louise pressed her cheek to Hazel’s head. The two women were best of friends and had been for a long time, even though Louise was two years older. When they were younger, the age difference had been a slight barrier. Now, it no longer mattered.
The wagon shook from the onslaught of the wind. How long would the canvas keep them dry?
Cecil looked over his head. Perhaps having the same thought.
Their gazes connected. And held for a moment. Silently sharing concerns. But what could they do besides wait for the storm to end?
He shifted his attention to Petey, who squirmed and fussed. Poor baby. He must be so tired of not being able to trot around. Cecil began to sing. She’d heard him before, mostly around the campfire as his father, Gabe, played his guitar, and they sang. So, hearing his deep voice was not a surprise. But still pleasing and soothing.
The first song was familiar. Her own mother had sung it to Louise’s younger brothers. The next one she’d never heard before. Something about a happy little lamb who skipped through life. The words held her attention.
More importantly, they held Petey’s attention.
“He knows a lot of children’s songs,” Hazel spoke softly.
Cecil heard and chuckled. “My grandmother sang them to me.”
The blanket slipped lower as Louise shifted position. “How old were you when your mother passed away?”
The man’s smile faded. “Two. I don’t remember her. I’m grateful my grandmother took her place.”
“I don’t recall when you lived in Bruffin.” Hazel clutched the blanket around her like a shawl. “Just like I don’t remember Bertie before he got sick.” She ducked her head. “So much sadness. Bertie, your mother, now my husband, my father, and your grandparents.”
A damp pall brought on by more than the wet weather shrouded the tiny space.
“Ah. But you have Petey. A reason to be glad.”
