Page 4 of Wagon Train Dreams
A low, pleasant sound came from him, and she shifted her gaze. He was laughing. A quiet happy sound.
“Might be more bad places, but we will cross the Qu’Appelle Valley. Beautiful place. My home. I see my mother.”
At the way his quiet voice deepened, she couldn’t take her gaze off him. He never seemed to show emotion, but clearly, home meant something to him.
His gaze stayed on the flower in his hands. Dark-skinned, strong hands that she’d seen pull an ox around or push a wagon from mud, and yet his fingers trailed along the flower so gently the petals swayed in a slow dance.
“And then the Cypress Hills. You will like that place.” He sat up straight and looked directly at her. “And then the mountains.”
She looked away, focused her attention on the flowers, mesmerized by their gentle swaying.
“When we get to the fort”—a safe topic for her to pursue—“I’ll see my brother, Carson, again.” Words poured from her mouth. “I haven’t seen him since—” Her shrug was meant to hide the catch in her throat, not to indicate indifference. “He wasn’t able to come when our father passed nor when my husband was buried. He hasn’t seen Petey.” The catch returned and wouldn’t be dismissed. “I miss him.” The words scraped out of a raw throat.
“More than your brother be there.” It was a statement, not a question.
She should push to her feet, move on before—before she—but she seemed rooted in place. “Maybe. I hope so. It’s my chance to start over.”
Petey stood in front of Joe and reached for his hand. He babbled something.
Hazel stilled. Would Joe be able to make out the wordsbig warrior?
“Is that right?” Joe’s deep laughter meant he understood and maybe liked the name Petey had given him.
Petey grabbed Joe’s hand, tugged, and then fell down.
Hazel knew the game. Pretending to fall so someone would pull him back to his feet. Would Joe recognize it?
Petey waited, his look clearly asking for help. At least his wish was clear to Hazel.
Maybe to Joe as well, for he held out a hand, waited for Petey to grab it, and then lifted him to his feet. No sooner was he standing than he fell. Joe helped him up again and again until Petey laughed so hard he struggled to catch his breath. He forgot the game and wedged himself between Joe’s knees.
Joe rubbed his back.
This kind of tenderness was what Hazel wanted for her child. But not from a man who spent his life wandering across the country. Who wouldn’t give her the home she longed for. Never mind that at the moment she didn’t have a house, a stable bed, or anything permanent. She’d lost part of her world almost two years ago when Peter died, and she’d left behind the rest of it when she joined her mother and siblings on this journey.
“I must get back.” She scrambled to her feet.
Joe rose with more grace, holding Petey. “I’ll help you.”
“That isn’t necessary.” But he transferred Petey to one side, crossed toward the river, and caught up the pail of water. Apart from a tug of war, what choice did she have?
Her limbs creaked on their way back to camp. She didn’t want to be rude. Or make him think—but she had no reason to suppose he viewed her as anything but one of the group he meant to get safely to the fort.
“Thank you.” The words stuttered from her lips as they reached the wagon, and he put down the pail and her son.
He strode away, back toward the river, and she kept her attention on the contents of her wagon, though she didn’t need to see them to know what she had. Her sewing case. A trunk of bedding. A satchel of Petey’s clothing. A crate of her possessions, among them, her Bible, her marriage certificate, her sole picture of Peter, and another of his store. And the letter Carson had sent. The words seared into her head. Words that had given her an added reason to leave behind all that was familiar. She didn’t mind because her mother, her sisters, and Bertie were going.
But Joe’s words about her future reminded her of what she had to deal with when they reached the fort.
Chapter Two
In the past, Joe only called an early halt to traveling because of pouring rain or broken equipment. But the oxen’s tongues began to hang out, so the August heat was getting to them. They would stop early today. A decision made not only for the sake of the animals but also for the weary humans accompanying them.
The drivers were on the wagon seats. The others walked to spare the oxen. A generous act of compassion that added to Joe’s respect for his fellow travelers.
Irene rode horseback with Petey in front of her, or Joe would have offered to take him to spare Hazel the work of carrying him. Not that she ever complained. But?—
She didn’t need his help. Her family all took turns sharing the load.
