Page 6 of Wagon Train Redemption
Bertie grabbed Alice and drew back, fear pouring from him.
They were almost back to the camp. Had someone invaded it? Bertie crouched behind a thicket.
He listened. Something in the camp rattled.
Angela squeezed her hands into a knot.
Moving slowly, quietly, Carson edged toward Bertie. When he was at the bushes, he indicated Angela should come forward. “You stay here with Bertie while I investigate.”
She knelt beside his brother, and Carson crept onward.
“Be careful.” Her whispered words of caution brought a warmth to his chest which chilled at the increased noise from the camp. Thuds. Rattles. Clangs. Whoever made the noise had no concern about how loud it was.
His gun withdrawn, he inched forward, keeping to the shelter of the trees. When he could make out the camp, he stopped and stared. A grin widened his mouth. He holstered his gun and backed up enough to signal the others forward, holding his finger to his lips to warn them to be quiet.
Angela rose and spoke to Bertie who shook his head. She waited a moment before making her way toward Carson.
Together, they tiptoed along the trees until they could both see the camp. His attention wasn’t on the intruders, but on her.
She pressed her fingers to her mouth to silence a chuckle, but her eyes sparkled. Three fox kits played with the bucket they’d overturned and the baking pans that made a loud clatter.The sound seemed to amuse the kits for they darted to the pans, touched them, and jumped away when they clanged.
One climbed to the table, grabbed a biscuit, and dropped it to the ground. All three sprang at it.
“No.” Angela leaped forward. “You rascals get away from my baking.”
The three kits stared at her. When she waved her hands, they abandoned the biscuit and trotted off, glancing over their shoulders several times.
Carson laughed. “You’ve spoiled their fun.”
“I won’t have them ruining my baking.” She scooped the untouched biscuits into a tin and jammed the lid on top.
“Look.” He pointed the direction the foxes had gone. All three sat on the hill watching. “I expect they hope to sneak in and get a free meal.”
She stood, arms akimbo, and stared at them. “They can get their own food.” She picked up a clump of dirt and threw it at them, yelling, “Go away.”
Bertie had followed. Limpy, seeing the kits and hearing Angela’s order, ran toward the foxes, barking.
“No, Limpy. You get hurt.” Bertie took several steps in that direction, then stopped. “Carson, you tell him get back.”
Carson put two fingers in his mouth and let out a piercing whistle that had the foxes turning tail and racing away.
Limpy, no doubt thinking he’d succeeded in scaring them off, trotted back.
Angela burst out laughing, the sound trilling through the air. The sound went on and on.
Carson stared. Yes, it was amusing to watch the little critters, but it wasn’t that funny.
She wiped her eyes with the back of her hands. “Look at Limpy. He’s almost grinning. Thinks he’s the conquering hero.”
Bertie studied Angela as if trying to make sense of herwords, then sat on the ground, and hugged Limpy. “You good dog.”
Wanting some of that attention, Alice butted Bertie on the shoulder, prompting Bertie to wrap an arm around the animal. “You good goat.”
Chuckling softly under her breath, Angela wiped the table, picked up a big spoon, and set it in the washbasin.
Her amusement tickled Carson, even though he hadn’t been responsible for it in any way. But it eased his conscience over how his unkind remarks had hurt her enough that she remembered them four years later. He bent to retrieve a pot lid that had rolled under the table and straightened to find himself almost nose to nose with her, both of them holding a lid.
Something flashed through her eyes that made him think of sunlight dancing on water while people laughed and played. She ducked her head, splashed the lid in the washbasin, and moved away. She changed direction midstep and went toward the woodpile. Without picking up anything, she turned to the fire, grabbed up a potholder, and lifted the lid on the beans.
