Page 46 of Wagon Train Dreams
“I will. I’ll think of you every time I open the pages.” He shouldn’t have said that. It went against his desire to make her forget about him.
Her musical laugh insisted his answer pleased her.
A cup of coffee would calm his breathing. He shook the pot. Found it empty.
“I’ll make more.” She headed to the wagon to grind beans.
“Not necessary. I’ll have water.” He filled the dipper to overflowing and downed it all. In his desperation, water dribbled from the corners of his mouth. The dipper returned, he considered her gift. The book was warm and heavy in his hand. He should probably put it away in his saddlebag. But he didn’t want to let go of it yet. Well, what better way to spend the time than to sit beside her and page through it.
“Let’s sit.” He patted two log stools that stood close together.
Then he opened the book. Read the first page, which gave information about who published it. He flipped the page and studied a map, read the inscription aloud. “‘The journey of the Brig Covenant and wanderings of David Balfour.’”
Joe stared at the map. If he drew one of his own travels, the red line would leave Fort Qu’Appelle and go north. Then west to the mountains. It would go back and forth a few times and then back to Fort Qu’Appelle. Then, east to Manitoba.
Hazel watched his finger follow the red line on the map. “Are you thinking of your own travels?”
His head jerked up. She’d managed to surprise him. “How did you know?”
“I just knew.” Her fingers traced the red line along with his. “Maybe one day you’ll write a book so everyone will know what the West is like.”
“Men better than I have already written about it.”
Her finger stilled. She leaned closer, smiling into his face. “No one else can see through your eyes.”
The challenge, the encouragement, and the determination in her gaze held him captive. Perhaps a willing captive. At least in part. A sensible part of his thoughts still said being with her for more than the rest of this trip was impossible. Dangerous for her.
From his depths, he found the strength to turn away. “I’ll untie the animals.” On legs that felt wooden, he crossed toward the oxen. But she followed, making it impossible to push her to the back of his mind. A smile warmed him where once there’d been cold, hard resolve.
“Did you know the store owner is part Native?” she asked.
“Never been to the store.” So, of course, he didn’t know.
“It would seem he’s accepted here. He runs a well-stocked store and appears to do a thriving business.”
He loosened the oxen and patted them to assure them they could move about as freely as they liked. But they sat on the ground, contentedly chewing their cud. His thoughts followed her line of discussion. Joe’s pa had run a good business. From a young age, Joe had learned how to keep inventory, how to tracksales and purchases. He’d gotten good at looking at pelts and knowing their value.
“I used to help my pa.” The words were heavy on his tongue, so full of the past.
“Did you enjoy that?”
Rather than answer immediately, he moved the horses to better grazing. He didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t sure how he felt. It was in the past. Something that no longer had a part in his life. Finally, feeling her patient waiting, he shrugged. “I enjoyed being with Pa.”
The others returned, ending their discussion. Walt pushed a cart carrying sacks and crates.
Joe smiled. “Looks like the man benefited from your visit.” He helped put the supplies into the wagons. “While we’re here, it’s a good time to stock up on meat. I’ll go hunting tomorrow.” While they waited for wagon repairs, they could preserve meat for their travels.
Hazel, at his side, grew still. “I thought?—”
Yes, he knew what she thought. It was the same as what he wished.
But that didn’t make it possible.
Hazel turned away from Joe and concentrated on Petey, who played with the red ball Joe had given him weeks ago.
Fine. They needed meat. Not that Joe was the only one able to provide it. But if she protested, he would point out that it was his responsibility as the scout. But he was finding it too easy to avoid her. First, taking care of the animals. Then, helping putaway supplies. After that, he trotted into the trees, returning with armloads of wood.
She helped around the camp as well, reveling in the abundance they had now. She baked cookies and made two apple pies. For the first time in too many days to count, they had mashed potatoes and gravy and a fresh pork roast. There’d even been carrots from someone’s garden at the store.
