Page 47 of Wagon Train Dreams
Peter had taught her a little about operating such a business, and she’d been impressed with the one in the little town of Shannon, Northwest Territories. Her hands grew idle as she recalled the early days of her marriage when she’d helped Peter in the store. He insisted she didn’t need to, but she liked arranging displays in the window, putting the shelves to right every day, and tidying up the yard goods after the women had examined the bolts of fabric. She’d always put a different one at the front to draw attention.
“Hazel? Are you listening?” Ma’s questions startled Hazel.
“What? Oh, sorry. Gathering wool. What is it?”
“What is this story of Bertie’s about a lost dog and some big boys?”
Hazel tucked away her secret pleasure at proving to Joe she wasn’t afraid to face difficult things, but she held back many of the details from her story as she told Ma what happened.
The meal was soon ready, and they ate in leisure, knowing they wouldn’t be moving on until the wagons were repaired.
The dishes were done, and Petey was half asleep in Hazel’s arms when a call came.
“Hello, the camp. May we come in?”
Gabe rose. “Come and welcome.”
A couple stepped into view. Hazel recognized the storekeeper and a woman. “My wife,” he said, introducing them both as the Georges. “Thought we’d see how you folks are doing.”
He was as dark as Joe. His wife had brown hair, light-brown eyes, and skin as pale as alabaster.
Gabe introduced the travelers.
A thousand questions flooded Hazel’s mind. Dare she ask them, or would it be considered rude?
Ma explained that they were on their way to Fort Taylor. “To join my son, a North-West Mounted Policeman.”
“We saw flames to the east the day before yesterday. The fire threaten you folks?” Mr. George asked.
The Miller men took turns telling him what had happened as they shared tea and cookies with the visitors.
“I’m glad you’re safe.”
Hazel squirmed with the questions pressing to her tongue. But how was she to approach the pair?
Mr. George turned to Hazel. “Ma’am, I saw that you had a run-in with our local bullies.”
“Run-in!” Ma gaped. “You just said—” Her gaze went to Bertie, and she didn’t finish.
“It wasn’t like that.” A perfect time for a subject change. “Mr. George, Mrs. George, do you face prejudice because?—?”
Mrs. George laughed. “Please call me Sara. And you mean because he’s part Native and I’m not?”
Heat pooled in Hazel’s cheeks as she nodded.
Sara’s gaze went from Hazel to Joe. “I understand your need to know.” She reached for her husband’s hand, openly revealing her affection. “There will always be bullies. You learned that this afternoon. Lonzo and I have chosen not to let bullies decide how we would live. Instead, we choose to focus on the good, kind, and generous people around us.”
Lonzo smiled down at his wife.
Oh, how Hazel longed to enjoy that same look of love from Joe.
“We’ve found most people are accepting,” Lonzo said.
Hazel met Joe’s gaze across the coals of the fire. Determination marched into her heart. Dug in like a stubborn settler. And blossomed into joy when he didn’t look away.
When the Georges rose, preparing to depart, Sara bent over and patted Hazel’s shoulder. “Love conquers all.”
“I agree.” Now, all she had to do was convince Joe.
