Page 35 of Wagon Train Honor
Drawing abreast of him, she looked into his face. “I won’t rush in, but I don’t want to be that far back.” Seeing the protest mounting on his face, she touched his arm. “You don’t know what you’ll find. You might need help.”
Perhaps sensing that she didn’t mean to change her mind, he huffed. “Promise you’ll stay out of sight until I assess the situation.”
“Fine. I will.” But if he needed help…
He must have wondered why she smiled, so she explained what she’d thought. He grinned and then, signaling her to be quiet, moved forward.
They were close enough to discern a man stretched flat out on his stomach. The smell rising from where he lay almost made her gag.
“Stay here.”
She nodded at Robert’s command. With no desire to get any closer to that stench, she clamped her hand over her nose.
Robert slipped his gun from the holster and edged forward. He reached the body and nudged it with his foot.
Ruby couldn’t make out any movement. Was the man dead?
Still holding his pistol, Robert squatted and touched the back. He shook the person—or was it a body? It took some effort, but he turned the body over, twisting his face away from the odor.
Robert grunted. He straightened, surveyed the area, and then returned to her side, holstering his gun. “He’s drunk as a dog, passed out, and lying in his own vomit and soil. I’m going to fetch some water and wash him up a bit. Maybe he’ll come to, and I can find out who he is.”
“Does it matter?”
“I’ll report it. If he’s found deceased later, at least someone will know his name.”
She heard so many things in his tone—pain, sorrow, and tenderness. This had to be an unwelcome reminder of his father. He shouldn’t face it alone. “I’ll help you.”
“Ruby, it’s awful down there.”
She moved up two steps so she gained some height advantage. “I am not too weak to deal with realities.” The protest vanished. “I sat with Pa and washed his face and hands.” Ma wouldn’t let her do anything more. “There was an unpleasant odor toward the end.”
“Not like that.” He tipped his head toward the man in the trees. “You sit here and wait. Look, you can draw those flowers over there.” He returned to the campsite, caught up a pail, and jogged downhill to the river.
Ruby waited until he returned to swallow hard, breathe shallowly, and join him.
Before he could protest, she held up a hand. “I don’t feel like drawing flowers.” Which had to be a first. “What can I do?” She could barely bring herself to look at the man but did so. He was unshaven, his hair and beard full of vomit. He lay in a puddle that could be a mixture of things.
“You might not want to watch this,” Robert warned and waited, giving her a chance to leave.
She stayed where she was.
Robert lifted the bucket and dashed a good portion of the cold water over the man’s head and then scrubbed his hand over the dirty face and matted beard.
She expected to see the man rear up in protest. But all he managed was a groan.
“Good. At least he’s responding. I need to move him to a clean spot.” Robert took the man’s arms and dragged him away from the filth. He tossed the rest of the water on the ground, washing away some of the stench, though most of it came from the man himself.
“Stay back while I get more water.” Robert jogged to the river and returned with long, hurried strides. He left the pail far enough away that the man wouldn’t accidentally tip it over. Then he peered inside the tent. He picked up a whiskey bottle and shook it. Nothing came out. “Not much here.” Leaving the tent, he went to the horse, untied it, and led it to water. When the animal had its fill, he tied it where it could graze. “We’ve done what we can. Let’s go.” He reached for her hand, then withdrew. “I’m dirty.”
She followed him to the river. They walked along the bank until they could no longer smell the man, and he stopped.
“I have to wash. Do you mind waiting over there?” He indicated a thicket a distance away.
Did he mean to take off his clothes? Heat rushed up her neck and stung her cheeks.
Already, Robert was unbuttoning his jacket.
“Robert, are you…?” The words stuck in her throat, and she couldn’t finish.
