Page 70 of Wagon Train Honor
“Guns on the ground and step away.” Allard’s loud, guttural voice warned them not to fool with the Mounties.
The five obeyed the command and soon had their hands tied behind their backs and sat on their horses.
The nearest town was ten miles away, but that’s where these men were going.
Robert helped barricade the opening between the boulders to keep the horses contained until they got back. The three Mounties and five rustlers proceeded on their way.
Shadows lengthened, and the sky grew dusky before they reached Big Prairie.
The Mounties were familiar with the town. The station agent had handled prisoners before and helped chain them to the metal stanchions to await the next train that would take them for trial.
Robert wrote out a report. Then, the three of them went in search of a hot meal. Having agreed they preferred to sleep under the stars, they bedded down near the river that provided water for the town and steam engines.
They took time the next morning to have a hot breakfast and several cups of coffee. Before they left, Robert went to the store to buy Ruby a new sketchbook if they had one. They didn’t, but he picked up several newspapers, knowing everyone would welcome news of the outside world, even if it was two weeks old or more.
By mid-afternoon, the five horses followed on lead ropes, and they began the trek to rejoin the wagon train.
He stopped and faced the abandoned homesite. It was a few miles out of the way, but maybe he’d discover something more. “I’m going to ride over there and have another look.” He’d told Carson and Allard about the graves. Let them think that was his only interest, but after he was there, he’d ride to the trail the wagons left and search for Ruby’s sketchbook. “I’ll catch up.”
Carson gave a quick salute as they rode on.
Robert urged his mount to a faster pace until he topped a hill and looked down into the hollow. He reached for his canteen to ease his scratchy throat before he rode on and dismounted at the graves. So many feelings rushed over him. The pain of those who left the graves behind. How it had made Dobie so sad. Most of all, missing Ruby.
Was it God directing them to a shared life that led to the loss of her sketchbook? He wished he could believe that, but although it might have given him hope she’d consider not going to Banff, he couldn’t bring himself to be so selfish. Besides, she could draw new pictures. She could start over.
He touched the largest of the three wooden crosses. Death was not the only way to lose a person. Choices could take them in different directions. Part of his heart belonged to that piece of land he meant to make into a forever home. But a larger part belonged with Ruby and what he hoped was a forever love.
He sat beside the graves.
She might have lost her sketchbook, but if he let her go to Banff while he pursued his dream, he’d have lost something far more valuable and irreplaceable.
Words teased at his thoughts. Slowly, they came into focus, spoken in his mother’s voice and accompanied by a gentle smile. “We choose what we will sacrifice. To give up something in order to gain something better is perhaps not such a great sacrifice.” He could picture her clutching a few belongings in her hands as they followed his pa yet again.
He’d asked what she was gaining.
“You and Henrietta. Your pa might let Hennie come with me, but he’d never let me take you.”
How had he forgotten that? His mother endured his father’s cruelty because she loved Robert. Giving up his hope of a permanent home out of love for Ruby was little compared to the joy of being with her. He’d go to Banff with her if she’d accept him.
His mind was made up and he focused on the graves. The yellow flowers were but a memory. But where was the blanket Dobie had brought? Had the wind blown it away? He pushed to his feet and looked around, saw a bit of gray fabric sticking out from under the fallen wall. An animal must have dragged it there. He pulled it out. A heavier object thudded at his feet.
He stared. He blinked. Was it possible? But there was no mistaking Ruby’s sketchbook. His soft chuckle disturbed nearby birds, and they scattered from the trees. He picked it up. The cover sported chew marks. Opening the pages, he thumbed past a few damaged by teeth and saliva. On the whole, though, the book was intact, and he whooped. Ruby would be so excited to have her drawings back, which are mostly in good condition. He stowed the book in a saddlebag and hurried to remount his horse, keeping up a steady lope as he followed the wagon train tracks.
The dust of the wheels and hooves was evident first and then the gray canvas covers and the line of horses. Soon, he made out the three Mounties’ red coats, but they weren’t what he searched for.
And then?—
There she was, following the horses. She turned, shielding her eyes with her hand.
He knew the moment she saw him. She gathered her skirt and raced in his direction. His heart leaping, he dropped to the ground and opened his arms. She flew into them, and they laughed and hugged.
“I was so worried about you.” She pressed her palm to his cheek. “If something happened to you—” Her voice broke. She swallowed audibly. Tears glistened in her eyes.
“I missed you too.” The words growled from his tight throat. “Ruby, I’ve had time to think.”
“Me too. I lost my sketchbook.”
“About that?—”
