Page 71 of Wagon Train Promises
“Go back to sleep,” Cecil whispered. “I’m going to watch the camp, but I’ll be back. I promise.” When he returned, Dobie was gone.
“He’s with me.” Louise’s murmur carried on the gentle breeze.
“Thanks.” But he wished the boy was still beside him. Cecil liked feeling he could provide protection for Dobie. But something more, bigger, something that flooded his heart with warmth accompanied the boy’s presence.
This had to be the love a man felt for a child. Even one not his own.
He woke to Dobie sitting on the ground watching him.
“Morning,” he said.
“Morning,” Dobie echoed. He leaned close. “My new mama smells nice. Like flowers.”
“You noticed that, did you?”
Dobie nodded. “My mama say a new mama would smell good.”
“Your mama was right.” At least in this case. Cecil pulled on his boots and rolled up his bedding to stow in the wagon.
Dobie did a fair-to-middling job of rolling his blankets and handing them to Cecil to put away.
“I see your new mama is making coffee.” She ground beans at the back of the middle wagon.
“She say I could have biscuits for breakfast. She make good biscuits?”
“Sure does.”
“Good.”
“Did your mama say something about that too?” The woman had done everything she could to prepare her little son for this unfortunate situation. Especially praying for someone to come along in time.
“No, but my mama made good biscuits until—” He ducked his head.
Cecil caught his chin. “Until what?” He’d seen their supplies—or rather, the lack of them. Every can had been scraped clean. There wasn’t a thing left to eat. The timing of them finding Dobie was further evidence of God’s hand.
“No more flour.” He plunked to the ground, his head hanging.
Bertie heard them talking and ambled over with both cats in his arms and the goat and dog at his heels. He sat beside Dobie, who gave him a cautious sideways glance.
“This is Fluff.” He indicated the furriest of the two cats. “This is Smoky.” He lifted Smoky to Dobie’s lap. “You pet her.”
While Dobie stroked the cat, Bertie introduced Limpy, the three-legged dog, and Alice, the goat.
Dobie gave no indication that he heard Bertie. The moment the cat began to purr beneath his hand, tears ran down the boy’s cheeks.
Cecil blinked back his own weeping to witness the silent grief that engulfed the boy.
He hadn’t heard Louise cross to them. Didn’t know she was there until she knelt by Dobie and pulled him into her arms.
At first, the boy resisted and then melted into the embrace.
Bertie sniffed. “You not be sad.”
“He’ll be sad for a little while,” Louise assured the big man. “Thanks for lending him your cat. That helps him not feel so sad.”
Bertie patted Dobie’s back. “You hold her long as you want.” He pushed to his feet and ambled toward his mother who was awake.
Dobie fisted away his tears. “Mama say I shouldn’t cry.”
