Page 55 of Wagon Train Dreams
Not wanting to draw attention to himself, he did not join in singing the hymns though he enjoyed hearing Hazel sing. He tried to concentrate on the sermon, but he was too aware of sideways glances.
As soon as the last amen was uttered, Joe handed Petey to Hazel and burst from the church. Not willing to abandon her or forget his agreement to join the Georges for the noon meal, he stood in the far corner of the yard.
Others began to file out. Several glanced his way and jerked their gaze away. Some men tipped their hat to him. Others nodded and smiled.
Hazel hurried toward him. “Joe, why did you rush off like that?”
“Needed fresh air.” He wasn’t going to tell her he didn’t want her to feel branded by his presence.
The other travelers exited and joined them.
“Ma, we’re going with the Georges for the meal.”
Marnie patted Hazel’s hand. “Have a good time.”
“We will.” Hazel’s confident tone sent fear into Joe’s heart. Had she not seen the disapproving looks?
Lonzo and his wife soon guided them to their house. They passed the two rows of houses. The street gave way to a well-trodden path. Smoke drifted from the chimney of a house tucked into a scattering of trees. The path narrowed, and they continued on, following the slope of the land.
“Here we are,” Sara called. “Please come in.”
Joe couldn’t have said what he expected, but not this small cabin, cobbled together of various pieces of wood.
Lonzo must have noticed Joe’s surprise. “It’s all we could manage. But we have plans for bigger and better.”
Sara chuckled. “I keep telling Lonzo I’m happy with this. It’s warm. It keeps out the rain and snow.” Her eyes filled with such love that Joe had to turn away. “It’s a house that shelters our love.”
Lonzo pulled his wife close. “You deserve better, and someday, you will have it. I promise.”
Sara nodded. “I’m happy here.” She beckoned Joe and Hazel. “Please come in and make yourself at home.” Inside, she waved them toward the little couch covered in a horsehair blanket.
Hazel didn’t go in that direction. Instead, she passed Petey to Joe and followed Sara across the room to the kitchen area. “Let me help you.”
Sara lifted the lid from the pot on the stove. “It’s ready. But you can set the table if you like.” She handed Hazel bowls and plates and indicated where she stored the cutlery.
While the women puttered, Joe bounced Petey on his knee. The warm and cozy cabin interior contrasted sharply with the outside. Pretty pictures and a calendar decorated the walls. A narrow shelf held a collection of books and items they must have collected on their travels—an odd-looking rock, a tiny china figurine of a pretty lady, an unusually fancy lamp, and a framed picture of two stern-looking people.
“Come to the table,” Sara said.
After Lonzo asked the blessing, they enjoyed tasty vegetable soup with thick slices of fresh bread. Petey insisted on staying with Joe and eating from his dish. He fell asleep before the meal ended.
“I’ll put him on the couch.” Hazel scooped the baby from Joe’s knee, smiling her thanks. When she had settled herself on the chair again, she folded her hands on the checkered tablecloth. “Sara, can you tell us how you met?”
The love in the look the Georges exchanged made Joe’s eyes sting with admiration and a touch of envy.
“Lonzo, you tell,” Sara said.
He rubbed his hands on his thighs, sitting up straighter. “I was raised in an orphanage where a trapper left me when I was about two. He’d known my parents and took me there after they died of some disease. He told the matron my father was a Native and my mother a daughter of a trader the man he knew.”
Sara added to the narrative. “My pa supplied milk to the orphanage and helped the boys with gardening and farming. I often went with him. That’s how I got to know Lonzo.”
The way she lowered her gaze and twisted her spoon between her fingers suggested her attraction to the young man met with opposition.
Then she reached over and gripped her husband’s arm. “My father did not approve of my interest in Lonzo.”
Joe and Hazel glanced at each other, a dozen wordless questions exchanged.
“Why?” She voiced one of them. “Because he’s part Native?”
