Page 19 of Wagon Train Honor
“I hadn’t thought of it, but why?”
“Because of Bertie. He’s afraid of trains and strangers. And when he’s afraid, he often runs off.”
“Aha. So that’s why he was under the wagon the first time I went over there?”
“It is. And why we’ve camped a distance from everyone else. Thankfully, there aren’t a whole lot of people coming and going.”
They’d reached the incline leading to the place he wanted to show her, and he dropped his arm to take her hand so he could help her climb toward the spot where he could point out the hillside. “See the rocks? That scientist fella told me this proves the area hasn’t been touched by a glacier. Now I can’t remember why he said so.” He chuckled. “I didn’t know there’d be a test, or I would’ve paid closer attention.”
“It’s all gravel and stones.” The words came out in little puffs, betraying her breathlessness as they climbed. She touched the exposed cliff. “It’s hard.”
“Cobbles. There, I remembered that.”
They continued onward to the top.
She gasped. “I can see forever. I didn’t realize how thick the trees were. And there’s a river. What are those buildings?”
She meant the remnants of the original fort. “I’ll take you there later.”
“I must draw.” She slid her notebook from her pocket, plunked to the ground, and opened it to a blank page. In sure, quick strokes, she captured the two pine trees poking up from the valley below their feet. The details she added amazed him.
“When did you become so fascinated with plants and why?”
Her head came up to study the scene. Then she bent over the page again. “I had a teacher by the name of Mr. Elliot. He told us about David Thompson and read passages from articles written about him. And he brought a book with the names of many of the flowers.” Another look at the trees. More scratching of her pencil.
He wasn’t sure what the explorer had to do with drawing pictures, but maybe she’d tell him because when she was distracted by—or did he mean focused on?—her work, she seemed more inclined to talk.
“I started to notice the flowers around me. I’d sketch them and bring them to class to see if they were in the book. Often, they weren’t. Mr. Elliot encouraged me to keep a record of them. He said sooner or later I’d learn more about them.” She turned to him, her eyes wide as if she’d discovered something. “I hadn’t realized he is responsible for this urge to catalog the flora I see.”
“Too bad that scientist fella wasn’t around. He was full of book learning. Guess he’d be able to help you.”
Her attention returned to the page on her knees.
His patient waiting yielded no explanation about Thompson. Finally, he probed. “I don’t see how hearing about David Thompson spurred you on to drawing flowers.”
Her pencil grew idle, her gaze distant. “The two things always seemed connected in my mind.” Her breath whooshed out. “Maybe because I realized how his descriptions and maps and everything made others see the new world.” A one-shouldered shrug.
The explanation didn’t make Robert understand, but it didn’t matter.
“That’s done.” She eased the notebook closed, returned the pencil to its place, and leaned back on her elbows. When he turned to rest on one arm so he could study her, she tipped her face to the sky. “It’s so peaceful here.”
“Hasn’t always been. Do you know the history of the North-West Mounted Police?”
“I think so.”
“Then you know their first fort was here. Fort Walsh. And the force was formed because of how whiskey traders caused problems and because of the Cypress Hills massacre.”
“Yes. Carson made sure we knew the reasons for the police force. It was a sad time for the Natives. Oh, wait—” She pointed. “Is that where Fort Walsh was?”
“It is.”
“Are we going down there?”
“That’s the plan. Though there’s no rush. I thought we could enjoy this view a bit longer.”
“Fine.” Her gaze returned to the scene before her. She inhaled deeply.
“It smells even greener than down there, doesn’t it?”
