Page 51 of Wagon Train Dreams
“I meant for the picnic.” He pulled her to the crest of the hill. “Look.”
She could think of nothing she’d sooner look at than Joe, but to please him, she tore her gaze away and faced the direction he pointed. A gasp escaped. “Who would have guessed this was here?” The prairie they’d recently crossed lay to the south; the scorch marks a visual reminder of the fire. The little town of Shannon lay between that and the dam. Trees nestled around the dam. Up here, they were above it all and able to see for miles.
“Like I said, the prairies are full of surprise.”
She eased her gaze from the view to a better view—Joe’s face. “Life is full of surprises. You are the biggest and best one yet.”
With infinite slowness, he set the picnic basket to one side, opened his arms, and drew her to his chest. “My pa once told me that God is never surprised by things in our lives, but He often sends unexpected gifts our way to remind us how good and generous He is. You”—he trailed his finger along her cheek to rest at the corner of her mouth—“are a wonderful gift.”
She expected him to kiss her again, but instead, he took her hand and drew her to the other side of the hill. The view differed. Hills of sage-green grass rolled off into the distance, where a herd of animals grazed and gamboled. Smaller than deer and of a color that almost blended with the brownish landscape. “What are they?”
“Prong buck. Many people call them antelope. They are very fast. Can outrun most horses.”
She leaned back into his chest as they watched the animals graze. Then, something alerted them, and they raced away and were soon out of sight.
The whistle of a train approaching town jerked her upright. “Bertie. He’ll be afraid.”
“Your ma knew a train would be coming through this morning. She’ll be ready.”
“Of course.” She accepted his reassurances and settled back against his chest. This was what home felt like. No matter where they lived, his arms would be enough.
For her. But what about Petey?
It was a question to be faced another day.
Some bushes down the slope drew her attention. “Do you suppose there’d be any berries?”
“Only one way to find out.” Hand in hand, they made their way to the bushes and discovered purple berries.
“Are they edible?”
“They are.” He picked some and popped them into her mouth.
“Umm.” They had a sweet, nutty flavor. “Saskatoon berry?” She’d read about them in information about the West.
“Ma called them mis-ask-quah-toomia too much for white man. They call it saskatoon. Good in pemmican. Good for the wild animals. ’Specially bears.” He ate a handful.
“Bears!” She jerked upright, spun full circle, and then stepped back to him. “You’re smiling bigger than you should be.”
His chuckle rolled from his chest again.
How could she be annoyed after hearing that sound and seeing the flashing in his eyes?
With great effort, she returned to picking berries and eating them. He moved to her side.
“Ma used to make a big event out of picking berries. Sometimes, we’d stay out overnight and cook over a campfire. Just like the Indians.” Although his tone was solemn, she knew he was teasing her.
But rather than respond along the same lines, she faced him squarely. “I’ll be sure to thank her for all she taught you when I meet her.”
Surprise stole the amusement from his face.
“You don’t want me to meet her?” The words creaked from her mouth.
“No. Of course, I want you to meet her. And her to meet you. It’s just—” He drew in a long breath.
“Joe, what is it?” Did he think his mother wouldn’t approve?
“I like having you to myself.” He pulled her close and dipped his forehead to hers. “I guess the idea of sharing you with someone else startled me.”
