Page 67 of Wagon Train Dreams
Children’s laughter drew his attention to a group playing outside the building where Joe had gone yesterday. It had to be the orphanage where his ma worked.
A door thudded as someone went into the trading post.
Other sounds reached the campers—horses neighing, a cow mooing, a dog barking. Bertie patted Limpy to keep him quiet.
The meal over, the dishes done as fast as possible, the others prepared to leave.
As they trooped away, Hazel watched Joe. He didn’t move toward following them.
Didn’t he want to go to the place where he’d spent so much time with his father? It was on the tip of her tongue to ask when he headed in the opposite direction.
She was about to go to her wagon and rearrange the contents when she noticed Joe’s mother coming her way. Did she knowthe others had left? Hazel straightened with a mixture of nervousness and curiosity.
Mrs. Dumont stopped a few steps away. She nodded toward the log stools. “May I?”
“Of course. By all means.” Hazel waved her forward.
The woman paused beside Bertie who held on to Alice so tightly the poor goat bleated. “How are your pets?” she asked.
“They good.” Distracted by the question, he patted each of the animals. “This be Fluff. And this Smoke.” The cats meowed. “This Alice and this Limpy.” The two bigger animals pressed to Bertie’s side.
Mrs. Dumont acknowledged each introduction, her smile warm and genuine. She patted Petey on the head before she moved to sit on one of the stools.
“This is where Joe grew up.” Her glance indicated their surroundings.
“So I understand.”
“I also grew up here. When I was fourteen, a new agent came here. He was young. Dark. Handsome. Smart.” Her tender smile made Hazel’s mouth go dry. Her dark eyes gleamed. Her low chuckle was soft, melodious. “His name was Alex Dumont. Joe’s father. I began to invent reasons to go to the store simply to watch him. He began to give me gifts.” The way the woman pressed her hand to her chest indicated her strong feelings. “He brought me a book of poetry.”
She seemed lost in memories, and then she sighed and faced the church next to the orphanage. “Reverend and Mrs. Morrow had raised me. They’re gone now, and a younger couple has taken their place.”
Another pause. Her eyes sad.
“The Morrows warned me that many traders married an Indian wife but left them if they moved.” Her smile almostblinded Hazel. “Alex loved me. He would never do that. We had a lovely marriage.” Her smile faded.
“I’m glad.” It meant Joe had a lovely home.
Her dark eyes, so reminiscent of Joe’s, gleamed. “I wanted to meet the woman Joe has fallen in love with.”
Every thought fled Hazel’s mind. And then questions surfaced. Had Joe told her? What else had he said? “I don’t know what to say.”
The other woman nodded. “He is a good man. In every way.”
“I couldn’t agree more.” Hazel spoke around the tightness in her throat that went deep into her lungs making breathing difficult. “But it can’t be. There are people who would judge him for marrying someone like me.” White, but it felt wrong to say that. “Back at Shannon, a man threatened to shoot Joe. He might have done so if the men from this wagon train hadn’t intervened. I can’t put him at risk that way. I love him too much.”
“That’s very noble of you—and very cowardly.”
She’d expected understanding, even support, from Joe’s mother. Shouldn’t she be as concerned for his well-being as Hazel was? But before she gathered words together for an answer, his mother continued.
“Do you think, by rejecting him, you will end the prejudice he encounters? Do you think by breaking his heart, you will make life somehow easier for him? Or are you seeking an easier life for yourself? Are you afraid to face the challenges? If that is the case, you are right to refuse to see him.”
Hazel stammered a protest. But the woman went on without listening.
“Marriage is not easy for anyone, and marrying a man like my son adds things that make it more difficult.” A sweet smile replaced her sternness. “But oh, the joys of sharing life with a man you love no matter what the challenges.”
Not a word came to Hazel’s mouth. Was she being selfish? She didn’t think so. Refusing Joe’s love was the hardest thing she’d ever done. She leaned over as a moan she couldn’t contain escaped her lips.
“Ah. I see you love him deeply.” Mrs. Dumont patted Hazel’s shoulder. “One should not waste love.”
