Page 16 of Wagon Train Honor
“We’ll blend into the woods better without it.”
“Fine.” It made sense, in a way.
“And what did I rescue you from?”
“From myself.” When he indicated the direction they should go, she fell into step with him while he shortened his stride to match hers. Could she also hope he would drop the subject she’d inadvertently introduced?
“What were you going to do to yourself that you didn’t like?”
Seemed he didn’t intend to ignore how she hadn’t answered him. At least, not honestly and fully. “Did I say I didn’t like it?”
“Not in so many words.” They reached the trees and ducked under branches. She plucked off a leaf when it caught her attention. “Look at this. The leaf is orange. The veins are green. Oh, how I wish I could do this in color.” She turned it back and forth, then lifted it to her nose and inhaled deeply. “Such a rich scent.” Avoiding looking at Robert, not wanting to see the disbelief in his eyes, she pressed the leaf between her sketchbook pages. She’d draw it later and make notes regarding the color.
He stretched high over her head for something. A leaf. Like hers, only bigger. He brought it to his nose and inhaled. “It does smell good. Like growing things.”
Like growing things? She’d once said something smelled green and been laughed at. But seems if you’re big and tall and normally wear a red tunic, you can say things like that, and no one will jeer.
He held the leaf toward her, and she sniffed. “I have to agree. It smells like life. It smells green.” What would his reaction be to her use of words?
“Green. I like that.” He drew in a deep breath. “The woods smell green. Shall we move on?” Taking her agreement for granted, he swept aside a branch, and they went further into the woods of knotty aspens and sturdy poplars.
Bemused by his agreement as to the smell of a color, she followed him to a clearing. She didn’t need to ask why they’d come to this particular spot, for she spied the lavender-and-white orchids nearby. Her breath rushed in and stalled. Her heart ticked against her ribs. Forcing herself to release her air, she eased forward and fell to her knees. “So beautiful.” Her fingertip grazed the blossom, and then she opened her sketchbook, took up her pencil, and set to work. The sepals were easy to draw, and she sketched them in place, then turned her attention to the more demanding details of the frilly petals. Her attention riveted to the task.
Robert sat nearby, out of her way and quiet.
She glanced at him. “This must bore you half to death.”
“Gives me time to think. And wonder.”
“Oh?” What would the man have to wonder about? Except perhaps when the horses he waited for would arrive.
“Still wondering what I saved you from earlier.”
Was he never going to let the subject drop? Did she have the petals frilly enough? Her mind only half on her answer, she said, “It was nothing really. I was only thinking of how I am always treated like the little sister.” She used her pencil to measure the width of the lip and compare it to her drawing. “I once complained to Ma about it, and she said I would always be the little sister even when I’m old and gray.” Lifting her head enough to glance at him, she smiled. “How fair is that?”
“I guess it’s true. Did you mind being the youngest?”
Bent over her sketch, she was distracted by the need to get the shading correct. “Not really.”
“You have a nice family.”
“I know.” She drew another petal. It looked good. With a sigh of relief, she sat back. “Tell me about your family.”
“There’s just me and my sister, Henrietta.”
“Is she older or younger?”
“Older by three years.”
“Then I guess that makes you the youngest as well. Something else we have in common.” Like flowers and soil and gray clothing.
“In a way, yes. But I had three younger brothers. Only Timmy lived past being a baby. He made it to three.”
Although his voice was even, his depth of pain echoed in her chest. She pressed her hands to the spot to calm it. “Robert, I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, it was hard on my parents. Pa started drinking heavily after Timmy died. And he—” He shrugged. “Well, things changed.”
Satisfied the orchid’s details were correct, she made notes in the margin about the colors. Then she closed the sketchbook and edged back until she sat close to Robert. “Where are your parents now? And Henrietta?”
