Page 40 of Wagon Train Honor
“Thanks. There’s some wood over there.” They picked their way through the knot of trees to a spot where they could lay out the tarp. She gathered in the smaller pieces while he chopped longer logs into a size they could carry.
Their work kept them from talking.
When they had as much as Robert thought they could carry, they began the return journey. Perhaps he’d missed conversing as much as she for he spoke as soon as they were out of the trees.
“Do you know where you’ll live in Banff?”
“I haven’t given it much thought. I suppose they’ll have a room for me where I can work and sleep.” She’d thought of trips into the backcountry—her belongings on a horse. She was riding one as she wore a split skirt. She’d never gathered up the nerve to mention to her mother that she wanted to obtain one. But it would be the first thing she bought when she received payment for her pictures. But now, the idea of spending the spring discovering new flowers held less appeal than it had only days ago.
“You’d be happy in a little room?”
She laughed. “Do you forget I’ve spent the last months in a covered wagon? Anything else will seem almost extravagant.” She’d make new friends. Perhaps not ones she enjoyed as much as Robert, but she’d be fine.
They talked about the work she’d do. About his plans for his homestead. What outbuildings he’d construct. Which places he planned to break to grow crops. Back at the camp, they unloaded the wood, stowed it under the wagons, and then returned for more.
They went deeper into the trees in search of more deadfall. Some of the logs were overgrown with vines, and he chopped them free.
“This one doesn’t want to come with me.” Robert bent over, grunting as he yanked. The muscles on his back corded with the effort.
“I’ll help.” She moved to a place in front of him and added her weight to the effort. “I felt it move. It’s coming.” It sprang free, throwing her off her feet. She crashed into Robert. They toppled in a tangle of tree branches and vines. His air rushed out in a blast.
She didn’t move—no, wait. Shecouldn’tmove. A limb on the log pinned her in place. “I can’t get up.”
An ominous creak jerked her attention to the dead tree jutting up at a precarious angle. Something snapped, and it shifted.
“It’s going to fall on us.” Fear thinned her words.
Robert wriggled. “I’m going to get out of here.”
She didn’t see how but wasn’t about to admit it.
He freed his arms, lifted them above his head. His chest expanded as he grabbed a nearby tree and pulled. Inch by inch, he wormed out from under her.
The tree dipped closer. Something snapped.
“Don’t move.” His words were sharp.
She wasn’t sure she should even breathe. Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw one navy-blue-clad leg move toward her.
He gripped the log, leaned into it, and gave a mighty heave. Branches snapped, shredding the air. A vine slapped across her face, but she could do nothing about it. The branch pinning her rose as the log rolled away.
Robert scooped her into his arms, backed away, and sank to the ground, holding her to his chest. His heart pounded against her arm.
“That was too close for comfort.” He pressed his cheek to her hair.
A soft breath carried out her thank you.
His arms tightened around her. Not that she protested. She was safe and sheltered there and not eager to stand on her own. Not yet. But soon. Very soon.
Neither of them moved. But her breathing returned to normal, and she could no longer feel the pounding of his heart. Now. Now was the time to move. Now.
She eased away from his chest.
His arms lowered to her elbows.
And then they both scrambled to their feet.
She dusted off her skirt while he looked for his hat.
