Page 5 of Wagon Train Dreams
A smile tipped his mouth in acknowledgment of her toughness. A good thing for a young woman with a child to have as she faced relocation in the West. She was going to Fort Taylor. And then what?
However, there wasn’t time to be thinking about her plans. He had his job to attend to of guiding them safely to theirdestination. With a nudge, he urged Boots ahead. Soon, he found what he wanted and returned to the wagons.
“We’ll stop ahead. Follow me.” He led them to the place he’d chosen.
They pulled the wagons close to the trees to take advantage of every foot of shade. While the men freed the oxen to drink from the narrow stream, the women set up camp, but no one seemed inclined to light the fire. Might be cold victuals tonight.
Unless—
He moved down to the stream, chose a graveled spot, and built a small, efficient fire. Trotted back to the camp.
“Ma’am,” he addressed Marnie. “Let me make the meal.”
Her eyes widened. “You’re the scout. Not the cook.”
Joe didn’t bend or flinch. Not even when the other ladies looked at him, though a twinge might have crossed his shoulders when Hazel moved closer.
“No point in all of you bending over the fire.”
Marnie still hesitated.
“What do you need?” Hazel asked. Her voice reminded him of sweet birdsong.
“Bottled meat.” It was the only way to keep meat in this heat. “Potatoes—” He added more things.
Hazel handed him the items as he named them. He chose a big cooking pot and carried everything away. In minutes, the pot heated over coals, the contents simmering. It didn’t require his attention, but he wasn’t sure what else to do with himself. The oxen and horses were grazing peacefully. The next days would provide them with easy travel. No need for him to ride ahead and make sure the trail was safe.
Stepping back from the heat of the fire, he lifted his gaze enough to see the women huddled around the unlit fire at camp. Were they talking about his strange offer? Would they see it as anything more than kindness? He’d seen how Gabe and Waltand Cecil did women’s chores to get the attention of the woman they wished to impress. A sign of affection. He’d seen his pa do the same for Joe’s ma.
But Joe only wanted to help, not impress a woman.
Huh. He wouldn’t be courting a woman like Hazel. They all knew it, though none of them would come right out and say so.
Not everyone, he’d learned, was that kind.
Standing idle, watching a boiling pot, or letting his gaze rest on a head of hair like spun sunshine was crazy. He hurried along the river. As always, searching every shadow, every flicker of a leaf for game or anything that would bring danger to the travelers.
The stream swung to the south, narrowed, and dropped. He looked down on a ten-foot waterfall. A wide, sandy area bordered the gurgling stream. He’d have to show Hazel and Petey this pretty sight. Wouldn’t Petey like the water’s gentle roar? The banks weren’t too steep. Maybe they’d go down to the sand. Petey would have such fun.
On feet as silent as a leaf drifting to the ground, Joe retraced his steps. He paused to lift the lid on the pot and stir the stew. It was ready. With a thick piece of leather to protect his hands, he carried it to the camp and stepped back, leaving it to one of the others to announce supper.
Louise wasted no time in calling out.
The oxen were within sight, so the whole bunch hurried forward. Then, with tin plates in hand, they stood in a circle.
“I’ll ask the blessing.” Gabe waited for everyone to quiet. “Father in heaven, we’ve had another good day of travel. Thank You for that. Thank You for this good meal and all Your gifts to us. May we never forget that every good and perfect gift is from You. Amen.”
Gabe’s prayers always sank into the center of Joe’s heart. Sort of reminded him of his father, though the men were different in more ways than they were alike.
Marnie ladled out the stew. Angela passed around day-old biscuits.
Hazel brought a plate to Joe and handed it to him with a smile.
He took it and stepped back, remained standing to eat. As soon as he finished, he strode away, not showing hurry in his pace. But at no other time of the day did he feel more like a scout, not part of a family. Well, what did he expect? Hewasn’tpart of the family. The possibility wasn’t for him. Not that it mattered. He had his plans.
He circled the oxen, then found a spot protected by trees where he could keep an eye on the animals and watch the activity back at the camp without looking like he did so.
Gabe brought out his guitar and strummed a few chords. Next, Marnie would smile at Gabe with love so evident it always made Joe blink. They always sang the same song. Just the two of them—“Home Sweet Home.”
