Page 67 of Wagon Train Honor
“I’ll go with you.” Cecil fell in at her side. “It has to be around here someplace.”
At times trotting, at other times walking slowly, her attention on the ground, she searched.
“Ruby, we’re more’n a mile from the wagons. It will soon be dark.” Cecil clearly thought she should give up the search.
“You don’t understand. It’s my work. I need it. I—” No one would realize how important her drawings were. The detailed pictures she’d produced over the last year. The orchids she’d drawn in the Cypress Hills. A wail swelled in her throat, threatening to choke her. “I must find it.” She resumed her frantic search.
“Ruby, I’ll help you look in the morning, but there’s no point in continuing tonight. We can barely see the ground. It will soon be so dark we could walk past it and not see it.”
He was right, but her insides caved inward at the thought of losing her precious work. With leaden feet, she made her way back to the wagons. Gabe held his guitar and waited for them to return. She plunked down by the fire, shaking her head when Hazel tried to comfort her. No words, no touch, however sympathetic, would fix things.
Motionless and silent, she sat through the singing and then escaped to her bed.
Angela paused alongside the wagon. “Ruby, I’m sorry.”
Ruby curled into a ball to wait for daylight.
Come morning, she had to endure breakfast before it was light enough to retrace her steps. She started out without waiting for Cecil, and when he caught up, leading his horse, she waved him away. “I can look on my own.”
“I’m sure you can.” He continued to walk a few feet to her side. “Two pairs of eyes are better than one.”
“Thank you.” On and on, they walked. The sun burned hot, stinging her eyes as they continued. Then they reached the spot where they’d stopped for the noon break. The ground was trampled. Animal droppings lifted their odor to the sky. Flies buzzed. Ducks quacked a protest and rose from the water, the racket grinding against her thoughts.
“I don’t see it.” She fell to her knees and dug through the grass, even though it wasn’t tall enough to hide her book.
“I don’t see it either. Come on. We must get back.” Cecil pulled her to her feet. “I’m so sorry.” He swung into the saddle and held out a hand to lift her up behind him.
Her eyes stung. The skin on her face tightened over her features. The inside of her head roared like an approaching wind, even though the air around them was calm.
The wagons had moved out, and Ruby and Cecil hurried to catch up. He let her down by Gabe’s wagon. While he went on to help with the horses, she fell back, trudging along in the dirt.
Robert had disappeared. Her sketchbook, likewise. Life had lost its glitter. A perfect reflection of her life.
Trudge, trudge, trudge.
What happened to her sketchbook? It couldn’t have completely disappeared. And yet, it had.
Her heart sent out a shock.
Here she was fretting about her sketchbook when Robert was in danger. How foolish. She might not be able to reproduce all her drawings, but she could make new ones.
She cared about her sketchbook only a fraction of how much Robert mattered. She couldn’t replace Robert. She hugged her arms around herself and laughed. Her feet grew lighter.
What happened to him? Was he alive and well or—? Just as suddenly as her joy had come, it vanished. Where was Robert? Was he as lost as her sketchbook?
Lord, keep him safe. Lord, keep him safe.Over and over, she repeated the words inside her hollow head.
She walked on until she was at the front wagon and looked around to see why they weren’t moving.
“Mounties!” Walt pointed to as three red-coated riders approached.
She squinted into the distance. Was Carson one of them? But why would he come to meet them unless Ma said something in the letter she’d posted at Cypress Hills? But how could it have reached him so soon?
As the riders neared, she made out her brother’s familiar face.
“Carson!” Ma trotted forward to greet him.
“Ma!” He dismounted and swept her off her feet in a massive hug.
