Page 63 of Wagon Train Dreams
Louise crossed her arms. “If there’s anything you can do, please do so.”
They considered each other. “I would if I could.”
“I see.”
He doubted if she did, but he had nothing more to say. His fork screeched a protest as he scooped up the food. As soon as his plate was empty, he handed it to Louise and headed for the animals.
“I’ll take first watch,” he told Cecil.
“Fine by me.”
Joe waited until Cecil returned to the campfire. Then Joe circled around the wagons He was out of sight but where he could watch for dangers.
The wagon Hazel slept in rocked once as if she was adjusting her position. Getting more comfortable, he hoped. Just as hewished for her to find happiness in her choice to put him out of her life.
Three days later, the beautiful Qu’Appelle Valley came into view. The wagons stopped moving. Those on horseback remained motionless as the travelers took in the view. The hills with hollows full of dark-green trees, the shimmer of distant water, the yellowed grass, the variegated greens.
Joe rode beside the wagons, anxious to learn what the others thought of his childhood home. Though in truth, he strained to hear Hazel’s voice.
“It’s beautiful.” Her voice was full of awe. “Joe, it’s amazing.”
Did she realize she’d uttered his name? But it didn’t matter. It pleased him to hear it on her tongue.
They followed the well-worn trail down to the valley floor. It was a day’s ride to the fort, so they made camp.
That night, he climbed to the nearest hill and stared down at the camp. Tomorrow, he’d visit his ma and all the places that had once been home. So many memories. He smiled. He’d spent so many happy years helping Pa.
He realized he was pressing his hand to his chest and stopped.
The past was gone. Just as the future he’d allowed himself to envision was gone.
But Ma was there. He’d be glad to see her again.
Someone must have let her know he was on his way, for the next afternoon, she waited at the trail leading to the orphanage.
He jumped from his horse and swept her into a bear hug that had her laughing and gasping.
She patted his cheeks. “My son. You have returned.”
“Yeah, Ma. For a short time. I’m guiding these people to Fort Taylor.”
“Near the mountains?”
“Yeah. Come and meet them.” He drew her to the wagons and introduced all of them. “Little Warrior.” He patted Petey on the head. “And his mother, Mrs. Meyers.”
Ma welcomed them all. Her gaze narrowed when she looked at Hazel. “Joe, come and find me once you’re free.” She waved to them as they angled away to a camping spot. One that had been used by visitors many times.
Joe collected firewood for them, his gaze drifting often to the trading post now run by a different agent. Nice enough fella. Just not Pa.
As soon as he was satisfied the travelers were settled, he trotted to the orphanage, found Ma in the kitchen, and sat and helped her peel potatoes.
“Seems like a nice family,” Ma said.
“They are.” He told how they’d started out as Mrs. Woods and her four daughters, a friend of one daughter, and a son. Ma nodded as he told about Bertie.
“It’s good to know they care about Bertie even though?—”
Joe understood why she didn’t finish, why she said what she had. One of the girls in the orphanage wasn’t an orphan, but her parents had abandoned her when it became obvious she’d never leave childhood. Ma loved that girl fiercely.
