Page 7 of Wagon Train Promises
“If it rises more, I’ll hitch the oxen and move to higher ground, but we’re safe for now.” He scrubbed at his neck. “We’ll have to stay here until it’s safe to cross.”
Her breath whooshed out at his solution and froze again at the idea of having to be here, away from the others. The thought died. “We have food and water.” She chuckled. “Lots of water.”
Cecil looked over his shoulder to meet her gaze and laughed. “More than we want, I suspect.”
“Very true.” For a heartbeat, their gazes held. His breath brushed her cheek.
She drew back, though the limited space allowed her only a few inches.
Petey’s demanding cry gave her an excuse to turn away and pick her way to the little one.
Hazel barely opened her eyes. “I didn’t sleep much.” She yawned. “I’ll feed him now.”
Louise changed him before putting him into his mother’s arms.
Cecil remained at the front, staring out at the scene. Perhaps he purposely kept his attention turned away, providing Hazel some privacy.
Louise studied her friend a moment longer.I don’t like the way she looks.Granted, she hadn’t slept well, but she’d been struggling with fatigue for a few days—hadn’t she?I’ll be keeping my eyes on her.Thankfully, Louise’s limited medical supplies were in the wagon. She returned to the front of the wagon.
“Everything outside is sodden. Will we be able to start a fire?”
“The extra wood underneath should be dry.” Doubt edged into his words.
“But?”
“We’ll be hard-pressed to find a dry spot to put our feet on.”
“I see that.” Puddles stood everywhere. Water glistened off every blade of grass and leaf. “But Hazel needs a hot meal. So does Petey.”
“And the rest of us.” He perched one foot on a crate as he continued to study the world outside the canvas-covered enclosure.
Her stomach rumbled. “I can survive on cold biscuits and dried meat. Though I crave a cup of hot coffee.”
Cecil sniffed. “I smell the brew. They’ve got a pot over the flames.” He tipped his head to indicate those across the swollenriver, then jerked upright. “That does it. Hazel, I’m going to make my way to the endgate.”
Hazel scooted to the side, tugging her dress closed.
Petey played happily on the floor as Cecil squeezed by.
He lowered the gate and dropped to the ground, splashing in the puddle at the back. “I’ll start a fire. I might have to stand in water, but I mean to have my coffee.”
Banging under the wagon indicated he pulled wood out. He tromped a few yards away. “It’s drier here,” he called as he squatted.
Soon, flames danced and sizzled. Steam rose from the damp ground.
Louise held out her hands, wishing for the warmth of the fire.
Cecil checked on the oxen and his horse, moved them so they still had grass to eat, and filled containers with water. Then he trotted back to the wagon and unearthed more wood before taking it to the fire. But rather than add it to the flames, he positioned pieces like stools.
“Ladies—” He swept his arms in a welcoming gesture. “Your dining room awaits.”
“You don’t have to invite me twice.” Louise jumped to the ground, ignoring the water that splashed at her feet. “Come on, Hazel. I’ll help you.” Hands steady and firm, she assisted her friend to the ground, then took Petey. The three of them hurried to the fire.
“That warmth feels so good.” Hazel, clutching a blanket around her shoulders, stood close enough to put her skirts in danger.
Louise studied her, assessing the symptoms.
“Coffee.” Cecil trotted back to the wagon, grabbed the coffeepot, and dipped it in the river.
