Page 37 of Wagon Train Dreams
The muscles in Joe’s arms tightened, but he restrained himself to a gentle hug.
“I know what it’s like to have no home, no family.” It was one of the reasons he couldn’t allow Hazel to grow too fond of him. He couldn’t offer her what she needed and deserved. “I’m sorry you’ve had the same experience. But you still have your family. You’re traveling with them.”
“But they’re moving on. Ma’s married. Irene’s married. Even Louise is married. I sort of thought she and I would be together. We talked of buying a house and taking in boarders.” Her shoulders rose and fell. “Now she’ll be setting up a home with Cecil and Dobie.” She blinked up at Joe. “Don’t get me wrong. They deserve their happiness.” Her gaze searched every inch of his face.
He held rock still. He wouldn’t let his longings and dreams show. Nor did he intend to waste the day thinking about the family he couldn’t have. He pulled her closer as if he could brand her shape permanently to his side.
It ended her study of him and allowed him to breathe easier.
She sighed against him. “Tell me more about your home.”
He relaxed further. “Pa taught me to read and write. He also taught me to hunt and fish. He bought me my first horse when I was six. Old Bones, I called him.”
Her body vibrated with her laughter. “Strange name.”
“I was six. What did you expect?”
“Still. Why Old Bones?”
Adjusting his legs, he found a more comfortable position, though it might have been an excuse to shift, so she rested in his arms. “I heard one of the trappers ask Pa why he bought such an old bag of bones. So—” He shrugged.
“That’s adorable. I can imagine Dobie saying something like that.” She wriggled around on the warm grass as if needing to change her position.
He didn’t overlook the fact it brought her even closer to him. So that not a breath of air came between them. He’d allow it for the day. After all— He did his best to ignore the pain that shafted from the pit of his stomach to the roof of his mouth. When he could speak without revealing the piercing arrow, he said, “A boarding house, you say?”
Her shoulders lifted a fraction. “It’s one of my options.”
Before he asked what other possibilities she might have considered, she tipped her head back, her hair pressing to his chin. “Do you like to read?”
Her unexpected question made him grin. “Maybe. When I have time. Or a book.”
She jerked upright to face him. “You don’t have a book?”
“I travel light.”
“Your saddlebags are all you have?” Her eyes widened as if she thought it impossible. “How well do you read?”
“Passable. Pa was a good teacher.”
“Tell me what books you’ve read.”
“The Bible, for one.” He named his three favorite titles, all of them memoirs of early explorers.
“What happened to those books?”
Why was she so concerned? “Some got left at the trading post. The rest Ma kept.”
“Oh.” She settled back. “I was afraid people didn’t think you had the right to own books.” She jerked up again. “Everyone deserves to have them.”
“Books are great companions. I’ll get some from Ma when we get to the fort. Keep them for reading during the cold winter months.” Chances were they’d be his only companion when that season arrived.
“I love reading. Pa always read aloud to us.” The way her words creaked revealed how much she missed her pa.
If he could, he’d read to her. They’d sit in comfortable armchairs beside a toasty stove?—
Impossible. They wouldn’t be together that long. “My pa read to us as well.”
“It seems to me.” She ran her finger up and down his arm, sending tremors straight to his heart. Warm, welcoming tremors. “That you had a very nice home. A good family.”
