Page 23 of Wagon Train Honor
Rather than try to retrieve her hands, he pressed his palms to her shoulders, offering comfort for a frightening experience she’d faced alone—apart from Bertie. “What did you do?”
Her gaze went past him as if recalling that day. “I remember crying and asking God to help me. I calmed down. Thought about what I could do. I found a thick branch and waded in until I was close enough for him to reach it. Then I backed up. He found the bottom. I kept talking to him until we were out of the water. We were both crying as we reached the solid bank.” Her attention returned to him. Blue eyes sparkled. “Our crying soon gave way to laughter, and we lay in the sunshine until we were almost dry.”
“Funny how our paths were so different but basically led to the same thing. Trusting God. I would have chosen an easier way to learn, but I’m forever grateful God has been with me every step of the way.”
“Robert—”
My, how he liked hearing his name on her lips.
“It’s made you a strong, caring person.” She paused and searched his gaze. “I think your mother would be very proud of you.”
At those words, his throat clogged. She couldn’t have said anything more encouraging. He lowered his hands on her arms and thought of hugging her again, barely managing to restrain himself. Instead, he caught her hand and drew her onward to the valley floor until they approached the remnants of the first NWMP fort.
They poked through the logs that had once been walls and walked around the outline of various buildings.
“The first members had it hard,” he told her. “They didn’t have adequate supplies. But they persevered. They stood up for what was right and good.”
“Carson says the motto of the force isMaintiens le Droit. Uphold the right.”
“That’s correct and a standard we all proudly adhere to.”
She picked up a bit of polished wood and examined it. “Is life easier now?”
“It is.” He braced one foot on a thick log. “We’ve learned to pick better spots for our forts. We can now get supplies on the train. Ranchers are raising cows to feed us, and the Natives are on reservations, though perhaps they aren’t so happy about that. I hope we’ve all grown, learned, and adapted.”
“You’re very proud of the Force.” She studied his face. What was she looking for? Would she discover it? “Won’t you find it hard to leave?”
His thoughts jerked back to the here and now. He adjusted his hat so it sat perfectly on his head. “In some ways, I’ll miss it. Like you said, I’m proud of being a member. I think I’m good at it.”
She moved away to kick at a pile of debris. “Thanks in part to the experience of living with a man like your father. But also—” She faced him. “I just realized something. Your father taught you patience and how to deal with unsavory men, but your mother taught you how to be kind and fair. Seems to me it’s a pretty good set of skills.”
“They taught me something else. The importance and value of roots. Of a home. Of love.” He sought her gaze, and at the surprise he saw, he looked away.
“Do you have someone in mind to share your life because a home needs a family?”
“I don’t have, but I agree. I want a wife and family.” Someone prepared to sink in deep roots with him. Something Ruby didn’t have in her plans. “How about you? Surely you have a beau who is going to join you. Maybe coming on the train once you’re settled. Or it seems to me Carson was extolling the nobleness of his sisters. Does he have someone picked out for you at the fort?” Hadn’t Carson spoken to a few men about marriages to his sisters? He’d even suggested Robert might be interested. The idea had appeal. But Robert had been away, and nothing had come of that.
Her laughs pealed like happy church bells. “Carson thinks I’m still in pigtails.”
He had said that. “Is he ever in for a surprise.” Still, how was it possible she didn’t have a beau pining after her? “What about back home? Isn’t there a young man missing you?”
The way she snorted suggested she hadn’t enjoyed her association with a man. His fingers curled to think of her having a bad experience.
“There was this young fella in church. Andrew. He’s a couple of years older than me. When there were picnics or teas or potlucks, he’d seek me out. Always asked questions about the others. It took me a few times to realize he was only trying to get to my older sisters, so I refused to sit with him again.” She pushed her shoulders back. “But I don’t need a man. I have other plans.”
“I remember.” He picked up a brass button that must have fallen from one of the Mounties’ uniforms and handed it to her. “Something to remember me by.”
Her startled look lingered as she rubbed the button between her thumb and forefinger.
Why was she surprised? Because he wanted her to remember him? Did she hope to forget him as soon as they parted ways? She to her adventure, he to growing his roots.
Her voice disappeared evenas her thoughts stalled. She cleared her throat so she could speak. “I doubt I’ll forget you even without this.”
Their gazes locked. She’d said more than she should have. More than she meant. Except it was true. She’d not forget him. “I’ve never before met someone who agrees with me about the smell of green.”
His smile lingered on his lips but faded from his eyes. Had she disappointed him? But how could that be? They’d met—why only a day ago, though that seemed impossible.
But more than that, they were headed in different directions. He was wanting what she’d had all her life—a stable secure family. And she wanted what she’d never had, though she couldn’t say what that was—to be part of something bigger? To have her drawings valued? To experience adventure? To be something besides the youngest sister?
