Page 8 of Wagon Train Dreams
“Hazel! Hazel!” Bertie’s insistent call interrupted whatever Joe had been about to ask. “Mama wondered where you are. But Joe here. So you all right.”
His dog and goat at his side, Bertie ran up to them.
Limpy saw the deer below and began to bark.
The deer disappeared in a flash.
“Oh. They gone.”
Hazel chuckled at Bertie’s disappointment. “You can blame Limpy for that.”
“Limpy, a good dog.” He patted the furry brown head. “He my friend.” Then, as if thinking Joe might feel left out, he patted Joe’s shoulder. “You my friend, too.”
“Come on.” Joe picked up Petey. “Let’s go down.”
Bertie rushed ahead, his pets at his side.
“Slow down,” Joe called.
The decline wasn’t steep, but not wanting to take any chance of slipping, Hazel accepted Joe’s guiding hand. His firm clasp steadied her. Assured her. Like Bertie said, she was safe with Joe present.
The feeling comforted her and, at the same time, made her lonely. Sad. She dismissed the notion as they reached the bottom, and he freed her hand and set Petey on the sand.
“Good place to play,” he said.
Laughing, Petey trotted after Bertie. Soon, the two of them were digging holes in the sand.
Hazel kept her laugh soft, not wanting to distract either one of them. “I don’t understand this fascination with digging holes.”
“A man has to do what a man has to do.”
She almost choked. “A man has to do?—”
Was he joshing? Teasing? Being serious? Joe’s expression gave away nothing unless she took note of the deepening crease in his cheek that suggested he almost smiled.
The man sure didn’t surrender his feelings easily.
She tucked that nugget of observation into a tiny closet marked Joe. As quickly as that thought came, she shooed it away. No such room existed—big or small. He was the scout. When he completed this journey, he’d?—
Well, she didn’t know what he planned. About to ask, she stopped when he crossed his arms and released a sigh. One she might have missed if she wasn’t standing so close and looking directly at him.
“We used to find places like this.” His gaze flicked her way. “My mother and father and me.”
She nodded. “I guessed that’s who you meant.” But for him to be sharing things about himself with her—well, that was unusual. The man wasn’t unfriendly, but he didn’t say much.As she’d observed before, each word mattered. Recalling outings with his parents obviously held deep meaning.
He scanned the grassy banks on either side. “Sometimes, we would fish and fry our catch. Sometimes, my mother would bring food. Or we’d camp overnight. Those were good days.” He lowered his hands to his side and went to Bertie and Petey. “Do you want help?” He hunkered down beside them, gouging a hole in the sand with a sharp stone.
Hazel made her way closer and sat on a flat rock to watch them. And to wonder at Joe’s revelations. He appeared to have had a good family. At least nothing he said gave her reason to think otherwise.
“I’m glad you had a happy family.”
His hands grew idle, but he didn’t lift his gaze from the hole. “Gone now.” He scraped a mound of sand from the hole.
Hazel understood loss. Yet she felt powerless to say anything that might offer comfort. Did he even want it? He seemed so solid, so self-contained. And yet?—
She tossed a pebble into the rushing stream. She’d seen hints of his vulnerability.
“I go in water.” Bertie took off his boots and stockings. “Ow. Ow. Ow.” Every step on the gravel brought forth a protest. He stuck a toe in shallow and clear water. “Cold. Brr.” A few more inches. “Too cold. I step on rocks.” Rocks big enough to stand on allowed him to make his way further into the water.
