Linda Ford (11 page)

“Did you have a good night?”

“Slept good.” She swirled the coffee around in her cup, then nodded toward the others.

“How are things over there?”

“Good.” He held himself tight, wanting her to say something about last night, wanting her to give him some indication of how she felt. But she only tipped her mug back and forth, studying the dark liquid.

There’s time,
he warned himself.
Plenty of time. Give her all the time she needs. She’s such a young thing.

The smell of bacon wafted through the trees and made his mouth water. “They said to come for breakfast.”

“Guess I’m ready.” She went to the shelter and rolled up the bedrolls.

Crane stared after her. Guess that’s that. Unfolding arms that were suddenly stiff, he doused the fire and gathered up their few items.

Her arms loaded with bedding, Maggie headed toward the other campsite without looking back. With his heart suddenly cold and heavy, he followed.

Sally Jane looked up, smiled, and ducked her head. Crane wondered what Sally Jane saw that made her look so pleased.

Maggie plunked down and grabbed another cup of coffee. Ted sidled up to her, and she rubbed his hair.

Betsy danced to her side. “We’re having bacon and hotcakes. Don’t they smell good?” She turned to Sally Jane. “How long ’til it’s ready?”

Sally Jane laughed. “Quick as a wink. That is, if Maggie doesn’t mind holding Sarah so I can use both hands.”

Maggie’s smile returned as she reached out and took the baby.

Everything was back to normal, Crane thought later as he threw the saddle over Rebel’s back. But things had changed. Even if Maggie seemed set on showing she preferred things to be the same.

He slapped the saddlebags on. Rebel snorted and backed away. “Sorry, old boy. Didn’t mean to take it out on you.”

If that was the way Maggie wanted it to be, well, so be it. It took time to become truly man and wife. One night alone under the stars didn’t make it signed, sealed, and delivered.

He finished with the horses and paused, resting his hands on the worn, bulky pack. He was balking because she’d pulled at the reins.

He slowly filled his lungs.
Let her set the pace,
he cautioned himself. A colt broken with patience and gentleness was always a better horse than one broken by force. He figured people weren’t all that different.

His laugh was more snort as he thought of how Maggie would react if she knew he’d compared her to a horse. Quite sure of her outspoken reaction, he grinned as he led the horses to camp.

Maggie’s eyes widened as she stared at him.

He pushed his hat back from his forehead and grinned at her, delighting in the emotions racing across her face. Surprise, wonder, and a flare of something he decided he would take as interest. There was a definite crackle in the air between them.

As he turned to get organized to hit the trail, he hummed tunelessly.

Eleven

The sun was hot and the sky so bright it hurt the eyes. The children rode quietly in the wagon. Even the adults made little conversation, the heat sucking at their energy.

Crane watched Maggie out of the corner of his eye. As the morning progressed, she slumped over her chest. He dropped back until he was at her side. “Are you all right?” he murmured, touching her arm.

She jolted up, blinking. “Just hot and tired.”

“Maybe we should pull up for the day and wait this heat out.” He studied the landscape but saw nothing offering relief.

“No. I’m fine. Besides, how do we know how long it will last?” She glanced at the horizon and shuddered. “Let’s keep going and get out of these prairies as quick as we can.”

“I’m with you on that,” he muttered.

Wally, overhearing part of their conversation, said, “This heat is good growing weather.”

Wally could be right for all Crane knew, though he wondered about the lack of rain. Even the thunderstorm last night had produced nothing but a few drops.

By noon the heat was almost unbearable. They pulled to the side of the road and sought the shelter of the wagon.

Baby Sarah fussed.

“Poor wee mite can’t take the heat,” Wally said, his look forbidding the twins to complain. “Sponge her off, and see if that will help.”

Sally Jane did as her husband suggested, then nursed the baby.

“We might as well push on,” Wally said. “Sally Jane, you and the baby stay in the wagon, out of the sun.”

She climbed in back, and the twins sat on the tailgate.

Crane helped Maggie and the children mount.

“I don’t blame Sarah,” Betsy whispered as he lifted her up behind Ted. “I’m so hot I want to cry.”

“I know, Little Bit. I promise we’ll stop if we find some trees or water.”

But by late afternoon they had found nothing but a solitary water tower. Crane opened the spout, letting the water cascade over the children. They filled their canteens and watered the horses.

“There must be a dam close by to fill this tower.” Wally shielded his eyes against the brittle glare and studied the lay of the land.

“There’s a furrow where the pipeline runs.” Crane pointed to the north. “But I see nothing but flat prairie.”

Wally shrugged. “It could be miles.”

“I’ll ride over and have a look-see.”

Crane rode three miles or more before he found the dam tucked in a deep coulee. Plenty of water was there, but not so much as a twig of a tree. Nothing but scrub buck brush and wild rose bushes loaded with blossoms from white to deep pink. He breathed deeply of the sweetness, then turned back. “We’re just as well off here.”

Maggie sighed. “Then let’s get set up.”

Wally pulled the wagon off the trail, angling it to provide a band of shade. He pulled a tarp from the back. “Let’s tie this to the side of the wagon. It will help some.”

It was too hot for a fire, and with nothing but twigs to burn, they settled for cold meat and biscuits. Crane opened two cans of peaches.

Ted leaned against a wheel, casting a dark look toward the twins. Even Betsy looked fit to go bear hunting.

“You probably won’t believe this,” Crane began, “But I’d sooner ride in this heat than in a cold rain.” He leaned over his knees. “I recall a time we was trailing cows north from down in the States, and it had been raining for five days.”

The children faced him.

“Have you ever tried to build a fire in the rain? Or cook a pot of stew with water pouring down into the pot?” He shook his head. “ ’T’weren’t Cookie’s fault, but he was getting the butt of all the complaints.”

He glanced around at his listeners. “I want to tell you—you don’t want to run into a bunch of cold, wet, hungry cowboys who haven’t had decent coffee in days.” He chuckled.

“Well Sir, a couple of the boys was really riding Cookie. He threw down his spoon in disgust and muttered, ‘Don’t see
none of yous doing anything but belly achin’.’ ” And
stomped away. But don’t you think them old boys had heard the last
of it. Cookie waited until they had gone to sleep, then
scraped out the pot and dropped a good-sized spoonful of stew on a couple of pairs of boots.” Crane grinned at the boys, who sat forward, hanging on his every word.

“Seems Cookie knew some coyotes were slinking about and figured he’d get the last laugh. That night the coyotes found the stew.”

Wally started to chuckle.

“What happened?” Ted asked.

“They licked up the stew clean as a whistle, then went for the boots. Well, you can imagine what the boys had to say
when they woke up and found their boots half chewed up.”

The children stared at him, wide-eyed, their mouths hanging open. Betsy was the first to laugh, then the twins joined in.

“I bet they was real mad,” Betsy said.

“Serves them right,” Ted muttered. Then a slow grin crossed his face. “I’d like t’ve seen it.”

Crane shrugged. “ ’Course they could never be sure it was Cookie’s fault.”

“You wouldn’t have had anything to do with it, would you?” Maggie asked.

He shrugged, barely able to think with her eyes sparkling at him. “I was just a boy. Just the cook’s helper.”

“Great story,” Wally said. “Bet you got a dozen of them.”

Crane tore his gaze from Maggie. “You hear a lot of things around a campfire.”

“No doubt.” Wally turned to the boys. “You two get ready for bed.”

Crane nodded at Betsy and Ted. “You too.”

After the beds were rolled out, he took the Bible to Maggie. “Might be a good time to read about the flood,” he muttered. “All that water sounds good in a place like this.”

She choked back a laugh. “You think I should avoid stories of fire and brimstone tonight?”

“Good idea,” he murmured.

Her gaze held him, unblinking and dark. And questioning. He was caught in a rushing stream of emotion. What was she wanting? He waited, hoping she would explain.

“You going to read, Maggie?” Betsy’s voice rang across the narrow space.

Maggie blinked and lowered her eyes, but not before Crane got the feeling he had disappointed her.

He turned away, crossing his arms over his chest. He was no good at guessing games. She should know that. In fact, one of the things he’d grown to appreciate about her was her directness. Now all of a sudden she had this—this something she wasn’t being direct about.

She read the story of Abraham sending his servant to find a wife for his son, Isaac. At the words about Isaac taking Rebekah to his tent and making her his wife, her voice trembled and she hurried to the end.

Crane kept his head lowered, watching from under his eyelashes, barely hearing the last few words. Something about Isaac loving her and being comforted.

He chewed his lip. It hadn’t been a tent, only a tiny shelter built from willow branches. But he’d made her well and truly his wife. And it could be comforting if only he knew what she thought.

Sally Jane’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “Read again the part where the servant said the Lord had led him.”

Maggie found the place and read it again.

Sally Jane sighed. “That’s comforting to know God will lead us to the right spot.”

Maggie looked up. “I remember a picture Ma had. Probably still hanging up at home. It was of the good shepherd rescuing a lamb that had fallen over a cliff.”

Crane could hear the smile in her voice.

“Ma used to say sometimes we don’t follow so good and get ourselves into trouble, but even then God doesn’t leave us. He comes and finds us. You remember that, Ted?”

“Uh huh.”

“I guess that’s what He did.”

Sally Jane leaned closer. “What do you mean?”

“I’d lost my way. There’s no other way to say it. Then God sent Crane, and Crane had this Bible, and I remembered all the things I’d forgotten.”

Crane looked at his boots. It wasn’t the first time she’d said something that made him feel as if she were calling him some kind of savior. And he wasn’t. The idea made him twitch.

Sally Jane spoke again. “God’s made you into a special and unique family.”

Crane looked around. She was right. They were a family. He and Maggie, Ted and Betsy. A different kind of family but for sure a family. And they’d find themselves a place out West and make a new life. No looking back.

Maggie put away the Bible.

“Let’s do like Abraham’s servant and ask God to guide us.” Sally Jane reached out to take Maggie’s and Wally’s hands.

Maggie took Crane’s hand. A shock raced up his arm. He steadied himself as he reached for Betsy’s hand. The children joined hands until they formed a circle, then Wally prayed aloud for God’s guidance and protection. A gentle quietness held them after his “Amen.” Without speaking, they found their bedrolls.

Crane heard Wally whisper, “Good night, Dear,” and kiss his wife.

Betsy shuffled and squirmed, trying to get comfortable.

A light wind came up, carrying the heat of the day, but it stirred the air and eased their discomfort.

Maggie sighed.

Crane ached to ask her what was troubling her, but every word would be overheard. He turned on his side and waited for sleep to come.

❧

The heat still hung over them the next morning. They stopped at noon for another cold meal. Shortly after their noon meal, they saw a town in the distance.

“I’ve got some things to look after,” Wally said as they passed the first scattered buildings.

“A woman’s store!” Sally Jane cried. “Could I at least look?”

Wally chuckled. “Look all you like.”

“Maggie, I’ll get the supplies,” Crane offered, “If you want to go with Sally Jane.”

The twins and Betsy followed the women; Ted trailed after Crane. He clomped up the steps to the general store, pausing at the doorway to let his eyes adjust to the gloomy interior. The air inside was as hot as outdoors with the added weight of cinnamon, linseed oil, and turpentine smell. Flies buzzed against the grubby window and swarmed across every surface.

Crane stepped up to the counter, took off his hat, and swept the flies away. He reached out and took four cans of peaches and a half dozen cans of beans. He ordered cornmeal and flour, then circled the store, selecting more items he needed.

One corner held a selection of books. He glanced over them and turned away when something else caught his eye. He bent over the display and studied the fine black pen, remembering Maggie’s desire to write her father.

He nodded at the man tallying his purchases. “I’ll take that.” Crane pointed at the pen. “And that.” He indicated some ink. “And some paper suitable for letter writing.”

A few minutes later he stepped back into the sunshine, pulling his hat low to shade his eyes. Ted followed at his heels.

They crossed to where the wagon and horses were tied. Maggie, Sally Jane, and the children waited in the shade. Wally hurried toward them, then climbed into the back of the wagon with Sally Jane to put away their purchases.

As he half listened to Betsy’s chatter, Crane wondered what took them so long to stow a couple of parcels.

When Wally climbed down, he turned to Crane. “I’ve been asking around. There’s lots of land around here. Sally Jane and I agree this is the sort of place where we want to settle. So we’ll be stopping here.” He cleared his throat and looked from Maggie to Crane. “How about you folks? Why don’t you stop here as well?”

Crane met Maggie’s gaze, reflecting the blue of the sky. A man could drown in eyes like that. “I think we’ll be moving farther west,” he murmured.

Sally Jane touched Maggie’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. I’ll miss you.”

“We must at least spend the night together before you move on.” Wally called the twins. “We’re going to find a spot to camp. This will be the last night we’ll all be together.”

“Pa, why can’t they stay with us?” one twin asked.

“Why don’t we go with them?” said the other.

Wally shook his head. “This is as far as we go together.”

They camped a stone’s throw from town, next to a sluggish creek. Three large trees and a handful of bushes were all that relieved the relentless sun.

Long after the children had fallen asleep, the adults sat drinking coffee and visiting.

Finally Crane pushed to his feet, stretched, and yawned. “I’m for getting some sleep.”

“You’re right.” Wally stood and pulled Sally Jane up beside him. “I’m anxious to see if I can find us a homestead tomorrow.”

Sally Jane hesitated. “We’ll say our good-byes in the morning.” Then she let Wally help her into the wagon.

“Good night all,” Wally called before he pulled the canvas over the opening.

Maggie stared into the flames, then sighed heavily as she
got to her feet, found her bedroll, and despite the heat, pulled
a blanket up to her chin. He drained his cup before he headed for his own bedroll. But sleep didn’t come easily. He sensed Maggie was unhappy and put it down to having to part with their newfound friends. He wished he could offer her comfort. His arms ached to hold her, but his mind warned him to caution. She had come to him before, and he figured, if she wanted comfort from him, she would come again on her own.

Next morning they said their good-byes.

“Be sure to write,” Wally said. “Let us know where you settle.”

Sally Jane and Maggie hugged a long time. When they broke away, Sally Jane dashed tears from her eyes. “If you ever need anything, you let us know.”

Maggie stepped away and pulled herself to Liberty’s back. She and the children turned around and waved several times, but Crane did not look back.

With every passing mile the heat grew. They rode all day without finding a place to hide from it. Crane’s gaze constantly swept the horizon, hoping to find anything that would provide a bit of shade. It was late afternoon, the sun still blasting at them from high in the western sky, before he saw a stand of trees promising relief. It wasn’t far from the trail, and he pulled up. “Let’s stop here.”