Page 9 of Wagon Train Dreams
Limpy barked and started after him. He drew back at the iciness.
“You come.” Bertie called the dog.
Limpy whined and ventured in deeper while Alice bounced around at the edge of the water.
The dog reached Bertie’s side and pushed onto the rock. Without room for them both, Bertie went off-balance and plunked into the stream.
Hazel stepped toward him, then stopped. He sat in water that didn’t cover his legs. He was safe.
“Mama,” he wailed. His face wrinkled, and he choked back a sob.
Before Hazel could act, Joe strode into the stream, pulled Bertie to his feet, and helped him back to shore. “You’re all right. It’s just a little water.”
Petey, seeing Bertie’s distress, looked ready to cry. Hazel scooped him up. “Uncle Bertie is all right. Joe has him.”
“Cold.” Bertie shivered. “Where Limpy?” The dog had followed them and shook water from his fur. “Limpy cold, too.”
“I’ll start a fire and get you warm.” Joe hurried to the trees and brought deadwood back. He soon had a tidy little fire going. Bertie stood close to the flames and wiped his eyes.
“I not cry. I not a baby.”
“You did good.” Joe patted his back. “And you’ll soon be dry and warm.”
“You save my life.” Bertie’s eyes rounded with gratitude.
Joe shook his head. “You would have gotten yourself up.”
“No.” Bertie shook his head hard. “You save my life.”
At the denial in Joe’s eyes, Hazel chuckled. “You won’t convince him otherwise. So get used to the idea that you’re a hero.”
Joe stepped back and crossed his arms over his chest. “No hero.” His words, though quiet, carried power.
He wouldn’t welcome her interference or her insistence, but the knowledge didn’t stop her. Shifting a few steps to her right, careful of the uneven ground, she moved closer to his side. “What’s wrong with being a hero? Why not let Bertie admire you? I can’t think of anyone I’d sooner have him look up to.”
Again, words she hadn’t given forethought to. But they were as true as the sun’s rays slanting down the river, turning it to liquid silver.
Joe expelled his breath in a grunt. “It’s not wise.”
Before she demanded an explanation, he strode back to the trees. The minutes ticked by. Snapping sounds suggested he broke off limbs for the fire. But he returned with only two skinny bits of wood and tossed them on the flames.
“Bertie, as soon as you’re dry, put on your boots and socks, and we’ll go back. Before your ma starts to worry.”
“I dry.” He turned back and forth. “Except my behind.” He stuck his bottom toward the fire. Steam rose from his trousers.
Joe remained on the far side of the blaze, his arms crossed. Clearly, not wanting to continue this discussion or any other one.
She started toward him, aching to restore the friendship she thought they were enjoying, but he stiffened. His message was clear. He wanted nothing to do with her.
The flames died down, signaling the end of the outing. Time to get back to reality.
With Bertie ahead of her, she carried Petey and began the ascent, leaving Joe to drown the fire.
Going up proved harder than she expected. Of course, she held Petey and didn’t have Joe’s hand to assist her.
Her foot slipped on the grass, and she went down on her knees.
Her son cried out in alarm, even though she’d kept his head from hitting the ground. She understood his words. “Want Big Warrior.”
