Page 19 of Wagon Train Dreams
The night air had lost its heat but remained warm as a blanket. Their footsteps barely made a sound in the soft grass. Music carried in the air. They’d been gone long enough to miss the nightly singing. What would her mother think?
He didn’t ask Hazel because she’d dismiss it as unimportant.
A smile settled into his chest. She was proving to be a strong-minded, stubborn woman.
He stepped away when they were in sight of the others.
Gabe put the guitar in his wagon and called good night. The others slipped away.
Joe waited until Hazel climbed into the wagon to join Petey. Louise whispered good night as she went to the tent where Cecil and Dobie waited.
Hazel ducked under the canvas top, then peeked out and waved to Joe.
He walked back to his campsite, looking over his shoulder and keeping the wagon in sight as long as possible.
His saddle as a pillow and his bedroll as a mattress, he stretched out, staring into the starry sky. A low chuckle rumbled from his lips. Imagine a beautiful blonde woman like Hazel wanting to be friends. And more than friends, but he wasn’t going to let that possibility take a foothold. Friends was enough.
His pleasure choked off.
She offered him everything he longed for. Acceptance. Home. Love. It was what he’d once had when Pa was alive. His parents must have faced criticism when Pa married a Native. Pa had defied the accepted notion that said take a Native woman as a mate but don’t marry her. Pa had black hair and blue eyes so dark that in poor light, they appeared black. And his skin was bronzed. More than that, they lived in a place where most people conducted their business and moved on.
No one could mistake Hazel or her son for anything but pure white.
Nor did he think they’d accept him courting her even at Fort Qu’Appelle. Even more, he didn’t want to complicate his mother’s life. He’d already decided that after?—
It no longer mattered.
After sleep came, he tossed and turned and rose early to take Gabe’s place watching the camp.
Ignoring the pleading and then demanding glances from Hazel, he kept a good distance away from the others as he downed scalding coffee and wolfed down his meal. By the time breakfast ended, heat already lay heavy on the land.
He spoke to the men as they brought in the oxen. “We have prairie ahead. It’s dry. Grass is short. Water scarce.”
“How long to cross it?” Gabe asked.
“Three days.” If all goes well.
“Do we need to cut grass here? Like we’ve done before?” Walt scrubbed the back of his neck, concern in his eyes.
“The grass will be sufficient. It holds a lot of food value, though it looks like nothing. Thousands of buffalo proved that.” They’d have one more stretch of prairie to cross before they reached Fort Taylor. But these travelers knew how to manage. “Make sure the water barrels are full.” He accompanied them back to the wagons, helped with the oxen, and then assisted in topping up the water barrels. He reminded everyone to make sure their canteens were full of fresh water.
Every step he took, he felt Hazel’s gaze following him and steeled himself not to look at her. But having none of that, she came around the wagon to meet him face-to-face and planted her hands on her hips.
“Joe, stop avoiding me.”
He might have thought she scolded him except for the smile hovering at the corners of her mouth. The stubborn girl was simply informing him that she wanted to spend more time with him. And meant to make it happen.
The idea pleased him, although he understood the risks. “Gonna to be a scorcher of a day. Be sure Petey has lots to drink before we set out. Dobie, too.” He’d leave it to the adults to drink while they could. Soon enough, there’d be nothing but the warm water they carried with them.
The barrels were full. The travelers were eager to be on their way.
Joe swung to his horse. “Let’s move.” He led them along the path he’d chosen yesterday. Within an hour, the scenery became flat in all directions. Open. Dry. Dusty. He pulled to a stop andwaited for the wagons to catch up and pass one by one. A cloud of brown dust covered everything and everyone.
He rode to each wagon. The women and children had moved to the side to avoid the worst of the dust. Bertie followed Irene’s wagon, talking to his cats riding in the back. His dog and goat loped at his side.
“Bertie, why aren’t you with your ma or one of your sisters?”
“Smoke and Fluff ride.”
