Page 37 of Wagon Train Promises
Fine. If that’s what she wanted to do, he’d make the best of it. “Very well. Let’s go.”
They fell in side by side as they returned to where they’d been earlier in the day. The sun had moved past its zenith. Warm sunlight dribbled through the branches and reflected off the leaves.
“Do you smell that?” he asked.
She sniffed. “What?”
“The air is sweet.”
“I smell moss and something sharp like mint.”
“Yeah?” His tone conveyed his regret at such a silly comment. “It was kind of a dumb thing to say.”
Another sniff. “It is sort of sweet.” She tipped her head up at him, and the sweetness reflected in her eyes.
It was kind of nice to have her agree with him.
They stepped over several fallen logs. Every time he held her hand. “I’m not letting you take another tumble.”
Each time, she slipped her hand away and put several inches between them.
Why was she being so distant? Had he done something to offend her? But he could think of nothing. Maybe she was simply shy around him.
A flash of blue gave him an idea. “I see some flowers.” He drew her in that direction. They stepped between two towering spruce trees into a grassy clearing dotted with bluish-purple harebells on long, slender stems. Interspersed were black-eyed Susans with their skirts of yellow.
Louise knelt in the grass. “It’s beautiful.” She trailed her fingertip along the stem of the nearest harebell, then sat back on her heels.
He squatted at her side, as interested in her reaction as she was in the flowers.
“I don’t know if you noticed the women embroidering quilt squares.”
“I have.” Though he’d paid little attention.
“We are making a record of our travels with them. I can’t think of anything prettier than one showing this field of flowers.”
He couldn’t think of anything that outshone the picture before him, and he didn’t mean the flowers.
“Look.” She hurried to her feet and trotted to a half-rotted stump from which grew three tiny spruce trees. She perched on the fallen log beside the stump that nurtured the seedlings. “Isn’t life amazing?”
The log shifted slightly, then settled into place as he sat beside her.
“It’s certainly full of surprises. Some good. Others not.”
Her gaze left the tiny trees and came in his direction. “Tell me some good ones.”
His insides danced to happy music as he thought how to answer. “Well, Pa and Marnie getting married is one. So is watching Bertie with his pets.”
She nodded, her gaze never leaving him.
“Riding across the country every day and seeing something new is good.”
“Joe taking that young man to his people too.”
Cecil patted his stomach. “Having sufficient food.”
She grinned. “We’ve not had to go hungry.” Her eyes got a faraway look in them. “What about before we started this journey?”
Leaning back until he found security against a scratchy tree trunk, he stretched out his legs. Just how should he answer?
