Page 8 of Wagon Train Promises
Louise lingered at the fire. The heat was heavenly. Then, she forced herself to return to the wagon to grind the beans. Ahot drink, warm food, and sunshine would set Hazel right. If only the sky would produce something besides the watery sun. “Please, God, You who make mountains and rivers, give us some sunshine and help the waters go down.”
“Were you talking to me?” Cecil stood nearby holding the coffeepot, waiting for the makings.
“No.” Her laugh was short and mirthless. “I was talking to God.” She often murmured her prayers aloud. A habit born of frustration, fear, uncertainty, desperation, and so many things in her younger years. A habit that persisted. Hearing the words she prayed made them seem…well, more real.
“Sorry to eavesdrop.” Not a crack of a smile or hint of mockery from him.
For which she was grateful.
“Would you like me to wait by the fire?”
Was he really being understanding? And yet, she detected not a hint of anything but kindness.
“No. I’m done now.” She held out the ground coffee, and when he lifted the pot to her, she dumped it in and breathed deeply. “Coffee is one of the best aromas in the world.” She didn’t care if he thought her a bit dramatic.
“Only one thing better, in my opinion.” He carried the pot to the fire and set it to boil. “Fresh, hot, strong coffee.”
“No argument there.” However, her interest was on Hazel, who slouched forward from the block of wood where she sat, staring at the flames. She seemed to have forgotten Petey, who played in the wet grass nearby. Not that getting damp would hurt him. But Hazel’s disregard of her son did concern Louise. It was so unlike her.
She brought her gaze around to Cecil to see if he’d noticed anything. But he stared at the coffeepot as if willing it to hurry up.
Louise relaxed. Maybe coffee and food would put her friend right.
The coffee sputtered. She hurried to find cups for each of them and the makings for breakfast. Thank goodness, each wagon carried rations. They had eggs, both salted and dried meat and plenty of dry goods. They had options. Eggs and fried pork and the last of the biscuits would make a nourishing breakfast. She’d simmer some of the dried meat along with pot barley for the noon meal. She’d make more biscuits if Hazel didn’t beat her to it.
While the meat cooked, she sipped her coffee. And studied Hazel, hoping to see the strong brew to perk her up. But after two sips, the cup was forgotten.
“I’m worried,” she murmured to Cecil.
“About what?”
“Hazel. She doesn’t seem herself.”
Cecil looked at Hazel. “She’s maybe a little pale. She likely didn’t sleep well.”
“I suppose that could be it.” Louise turned the meat to cook on the other side.
“You don’t sound convinced.”
She drank two mouthfuls of coffee before she answered. “I’m hoping she’s better after she’s eaten.” The meat was done. She pushed it to one side of the griddle and broke half a dozen eggs into the heated pan. As soon as they were cooked, she dished up a plateful.
Cecil pulled off his hat. “Pa usually asks the blessing, but since he’s not here, I’ll do it if no one objects.”
“Please do.” She bowed her head while he prayed.
“Lord, bless this food and grant that we may thankful for Thy mercies be; teach us to know by whom we’re fed. Bless us with Christ, the living bread. Amen.”
The words settled deep in Louise’s heart. The Lord’s blessing on every aspect of her life. That’s what she needed. What Hazel needed. What they all needed.
“That was nice,” she murmured as she handed the plate of food to her friend. Hazel took it but didn’t seem interested unlike Petey, who trotted over.
Cecil scooped him up and fed him off his own plate. “It’s a prayer my grandfather often said. After he passed, Gramma would ask for one of us to say it. It was usually me because I was the one who tended to her needs until the end.” His voice might have deepened, but he showed no embarrassment.
As Louise ate, she watched Hazel. She should have devoured her food as eagerly as the others did instead of poking at it.
“Hazel, what’s wrong? Why aren’t you eating?” Louise spoke gently.
“I’m not hungry.” Hazel abandoned the plate of food on the log beside her. “I’m going to lie down. Can you watch Petey for me?” Without waiting for an answer, she climbed into the wagon and, sighing heavily, lay on the quilt where they’d spent the night and tugged the blankets over her.
