Page 5 of Wagon Train Promises
There were miles and miles of land to explore.
A sigh eased past his lips.
Her brows went up. Hazel slept with her head against a box.
“It’s still raining.” Yes, his was an unnecessary comment, but being confined in a tiny space with nothing to do gave him an itch he couldn’t scratch. “What are you reading?” He nodded toward the book Louise had put down beside her.
She picked it up and turned it over in her hands. “It’sThe Last of the Mohicansby James Fenimore Cooper. Have you heard of it? Or read it?”
“No to both. What’s it about? I couldn’t help but notice it holds your attention. In fact, you might be still out there, sitting in the rain as you read, if I hadn’t warned you to get into the wagon.” He chuckled to let her know he was teasing and held his breath to see if she’d enjoy it or object.
She laughed. “I might have noticed when I got soaking wet.”
Pleased at her response, he let his smile widen.
“It’s the story of two young women, Alice and Cora, who are being taken to a safe place at a fort. They are guarded by a frontiersman and two natives.”
“Sounds a little bit like us.”
“I know. The Woods sisters, you and your brother, and our scout, Joe.”
“Would you mind reading me a bit of it?”
“I don’t mind, but I should start at the beginning.” She turned the pages back, cleared her throat, and started to read, her voice clear. The words were so real he felt like he’d joined the other trek.
Sometime later, she stopped and looked toward the end of the wagon. “I can’t see any longer.” She closed the book. “What did you think of the story?”
Somehow,it had grown dark. The rain continued slashing down the sides of the wagon like a waterfall.
“I liked it. Thank you for reading it to me.” Now, he wanted to hear the rest. Would she lend him the book? Or better yet, read more to him?
But before he could put his bold thoughts into words, Hazel stirred. She groaned. “I need to go outside.”
Louise caught her hands. “It’s still raining.”
“I need to relieve myself.” Hazel stood, eased toward the back, wrapped the blanket over her head, and loosened the drawstring.
Rain pelted down, dampening her where she stood.
Louise hauled her back. “We have a pot. Use it.”
Hazel’s gaze jerked to Cecil.
“I don’t suppose it would help for me to tell you that near the end of her life, I helped my grandmother use the chamber pot.”
Both women shook their heads.
“Do you want me to go out in—?” He jabbed his hand toward the rain.
Again, both women shook their heads. The three of them stared at each other.
Louise gave a quick nod. “We’ll make the best of it. Cover your head and promise not to look.”
“Fine.” He tented the blanket over his head. “It’s hot in here.”
The women whispered together. He couldn’t make out their words but could hear the protest in Hazel’s voice. There came shuffling and more whispering.
Knowing they were uneasy with him hearing them, he began to sing loudly. He could only hope it wouldn’t wake Petey. Nevertheless, he continued.
