Page 69 of Wagon Train Dreams
Mose dropped the lead rope for his pack animal and shuffled up to examine Joe more closely. “I see yer pa in yer eyes.”
“Thanks. It’s been a while.”
“True. True. Sorry to hear yer pa passed.”
“It’s a long time ago.”
Mose clamped a hand on Joe’s shoulder. “Sometimes things have a way of feeling close.”
“Yeah.”
“How’s the fishing?”
“Fair.” Joe’s line jerked. He reeled in another fish. “That makes four.” He rebaited his hook and dropped it again. “You here for the fishing?”
Mose lowered himself to a rock. “Fish is fine. Prefer venison myself.”
They sat in silence. Joe pulled in another fish. If Mose had more he wanted to tell, he’d do it in his time.
“Needing supplies is why I’m here.”
“I understand the trading post has everything you need.”
“I’se counting on it. Getting too old to traipse all over the Territories when I need somethin’.” He shifted. “Place ain’t never been as good since yer pa.”
“That’s nice to hear.”
“Say, I recall how you wanted to run the place. What happened?”
“Pa died. The company sent a replacement.”
“Yeah. So you gots yerself a store elsewhere?”
“No. I just moved on.”
“Huh. Seems a shame. You being so eager and all. Lose interest, did ya?”
“No, just moved on.”
“Still wantin’ a store and all?”
The man sure did know how to probe at dreams Joe had pushed to the side. Tried to bury. Kind of thought he’d succeeded, but?—
“Say, I knows somebody whose could use a young fella like yerself. He’s got a little trading post almost at the foot of Chief Mountain. Jest north of the forty-ninth parallel. Ya know? Just across the border from ta States. He’s getting crippled up. Son, ya shoulds pay him a visit. Better yet, write him a letter.” Mose clapped his hands and chortled as if he’d produced the perfect solution.
“I don’t know. I’ve kind of forgotten about that.” Not exactly the truth, but Joe wished it was.
“We’s all born to do something. ’Times, it’s ordinary. ’Times, it’s special. ’Times, it’s even surprising. A man can go for what he’s born ta do or spend his life runnin’ the wrong way.”
“I suppose that’s true.”
“Boy, take it from me. Grab yer opportunities.” Mose eased to his feet. “I’ll move on.”
Something about the way he said those words drew Joe’s interest. “What are you doing after you get supplies?”
“Got a sister in Manitoba. Gonna spend the last of me days with her.” Grabbing up the lead of his horse, he made his way down the trail toward the trading post.
Joe reeled in one more fish, prepared them for frying and carried them back to camp in a bucket of cold water.
