Page 24 of Wagon Train Melody
“No, Pa isn’t angry. He said you did a fine job.” Rudy continued to speak calmly, assuredly.
“He did? That’s good.” Bo looked around again, saw the little girls staring at him. “You going somewhere?”
Alice pressed her hand to her mouth as tears flooded her eyes.
That left Rudy to answer. “We’re going to visit Clint. Why don’t you come with us?”
“Pa won’t mind?”
“Pa thinks it’s a great idea.”
Bo nodded and climbed back into the wagon. He sat on the floor and put an arm around each child. “So, we’re going to visit Uncle Clint? That should be fun.”
Kitty giggled. “You forgotted.”
Sissy looked more concerned than her younger sister. “How could you forget?”
Bo looked puzzled.
Afraid the boy wouldn’t be able to deal with his confusion, Rudy patted Bo’s shoulder. “We all forget at times. Now let’s go see Clint.”
Bo nodded and sat with his back to one of the crates. “I’m ready.”
Rudy walked around the wagon and saw Alice leaning against his horse, her shoulders heaving in silent cries. He touched her arm.
She sniffed and lifted her head. “That’s not Bo.”
“Yes, it is.” But he understood what she meant.
She rocked her head back and forth, tears streaming down her face.
Unable to see her pain and do nothing, he pulled her to his chest and held her, patting her back as he talked. “Alice, he’s awake and we can be grateful for that. It will take time for his mind to clear. That’s all.” He hoped he was speaking the truth.
Her hands fisted into the fabric of his shirt and her forehead pressed to a spot in the middle of his chest.
“Auntie, where are you?” Sissy’s voice carried from the other side of the canvas.
“We’re coming,” Rudy called. “Just checking the horse and making sure he’s all right.”
Alice leaned away, wiped her eyes, and gave a shuddering laugh. “Are you saying I’m a horse?” she whispered.
He laughed. More out of relief that her tears were over than at the idea of calling her a horse. He took her hand and led her back to the front of the wagon where he assisted her up. He watched her out of the corner of his eye as they resumed traveling.
She stared straight ahead, but he wondered if she saw anything. Twice she shuddered and after several minutes let out a long, weary sigh.
“I hope you’ll forgive me.” Her eyes were wary as she looked at him.
“Of course. But what am I forgiving you for?”
She looked down then lifted her head. Her cheeks had blossomed roses. “For being so bold as to cry on your chest.”
“Ma’am, glad to be of service.” He touched the brim of his hat.
The roses in her cheeks blossomed even more. “You’re very gracious.”
He hooted. “I’ve been called a lot of things but never gracious.” He pretended to give it some thought. “I think I like it.”
It was on the tip of his tongue to say he enjoyed holding her, but would she interpret it to mean he’d enjoyed seeing her cry? Which he had not. In fact—he rubbed at his breastbone—it had hurt to see her tears.
