Wagon train promises, p.14
Wagon Train Promises, page 14
“We stay together,” he said.
“I agree,” Cecil added.
“Me too.” Irene slipped to Walt’s side. “Ma wouldn’t hear of it either.”
From the shadows came a weak voice. “Gabe, I’ll ride in the wagon.”
“Then it’s settled,” Gabe spoke firmly, but he didn’t manage to disguise the slight tremor in his voice. His footsteps were measured as he returned to Marnie’s side.
Louise left her to his gentle care. The other women were up, and having heard they were to travel today, they helped with camp chores. They moved slower than usual but were well enough to eat a hearty breakfast. Louise’s role of a nurse was no longer needed.
“I thank God,” she said loudly enough for even Hazel to hear, “that everyone is well again.”
“Amen to that.” Cecil squeezed her shoulder. “And thanks to you for taking care of them.”
His touch brought a sting of tears to her eyes, but she blinked them back. It was only because of gratitude tinged with fatigue that she was feeling weepy.
People gathered around the campfire. Gabe escorted Marnie to a stool, a firm grip around her waist.
Bertie sat close enough to press to her side. “Mama, you better?”
“Yes, son. I’m getting better.”
“I glad.” Bertie’s voice carried unshed tears.
As soon as Marnie settled, Gabe signaled to the others. “I have an announcement to make. We missed Sunday because of this sickness, but Marnie and I want to have a service of thanksgiving and gratitude for God’s goodness in healing us all.”
A murmur of agreement rose.
They followed their usual routine of getting the oxen hitched up and having breakfast before they gathered together. Gabe was feeling well enough to play his guitar as they sang. Marnie sat close to him, her face pale.
Hazel wiped away a tear and whispered to Louise. “She’s so weak she isn’t singing with Gabe.”
Louise understood the significance as much as Hazel did. Gabe and Marnie loved to sing together. She squeezed Hazel’s hand and whispered back. “She’s on the mend.”
Cecil rose, Gabe’s Bible in hand. “Pa has granted me the privilege of reading the Scripture today.”
Gabe must’ve allowed it because he wasn’t as strong as he’d thought.
Cecil continued. “We’ve encountered some challenges these past few days between the flooding of the river and the illness that gripped some of us. But God is faithful.” He opened the worn pages. “I’d like to read Psalm 139 as a reminder of God’s constant care and presence. ‘Thou knowest my downsitting and mine uprising, thou understandest my thought afar off…Even there shall thy hand lead me, and thy right hand shall hold me. If I say, Surely the darkness shall cover me; even the night shall be light about me.’”
To her utter shame, Louise clung to the words he read, finding as much encouragement from hearing his voice as from hearing the verses. Until he read:
“‘Search me, O God, and know my heart: try me, and know my thoughts: And see if there be any wicked way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting.’”
Those words stabbed her heart so hard she leaned over her knees to stop a moan from escaping.
Thankfully, no one noticed.
She tried to excuse her feelings toward Cecil as appreciation for how he’d made sure she was all right while she tended to the sick. Or as sharing similar concerns. Or even as fellow travelers. But God’s word demanded truth. She cared for him much more than that. More than she should. Closing her eyes did not erase the dreams that flooded her mind. Sharing life and family with him. Striking out together to conquer new lands and new opportunities.
Gabe closed in prayer.
Louise added her own prayer for strength. And a reminder to herself of her intention of being a nurse in the West. Nothing else. Nothing more.
If she rushed about afterward with more vigor than normal, helping arrange luggage and assisting those weakened by sickness to comfortable positions, hopefully, no one noticed.
Marnie rode in the back of the wagon she shared with Gabe, and he rode on the bench with Cecil walking beside the oxen to guide them. Louise sat next to Gabe. After all, she needed to be able to watch Marnie. Or so she could tell herself.
Irene rode beside Walt in the middle wagon while Angela drove the lead wagon with Hazel and Ruby riding in the back entertaining Petey.
They left behind the campsite where they’d been delayed for so many days.
Louise looked across the river where she’d enjoyed a few short, forbidden days in Cecil’s company. When she could no longer see it, she faced forward, her gaze slightly to her right so Cecil wasn’t constantly in her sight.
But how was she to get him out of her heart?
CHAPTER 16
Cecil almost tripped on the rough ground as he glanced back in Louise’s direction. Again.
“Son, pay attention,” Pa admonished.
He was paying attention, only not to where he put his feet. He tried again and again to catch Louise’s eyes. To signal to her so many things—that he was glad they were on their way again but that he missed the time they’d spent together while stranded on the other side of the river, that he was glad she hadn’t gotten ill but that he couldn’t wait until they could spend a few hours together.
When they did, he’d tell her what was in his heart. He’d be sure she understood that a woman could be a wife and mother and still offer her skills as a nurse to those who needed it, just like the women who served as midwives did.
He rehearsed the words he’d say. Louise, I love you. Will you marry me? No, that didn’t seem right. He tried another version. Tried many of them.
By the time they stopped for the noon meal and to rest, he still didn’t know what he wanted to say. Or rather, how he wanted to say it. But he had all afternoon to think it over.
He helped tend the oxen while Louise and Hazel brought out food for the cold meal.
Louise made sure those who had been ill got enough to drink. She hovered over Marnie. Not that he blamed her. The woman looked like the wind that tickled the grass would carry her away.
“Everyone, rest,” Joe said when the meal was over.
Edginess twitched through Cecil’s legs, and he wandered down to where the oxen grazed, pretending his only reason was to watch them.
The truth was that every muscle in his body coiled with eagerness and expectation.
He meant to tell Louise how he felt before the day was out. And he could see no reason that she wouldn’t welcome the news. Brown-eyed Susans grew in abundance on the hill where he sat, and they gave him an idea. He’d take a bouquet to her along with his confession of love.
If he wore a silly grin that afternoon, no one seemed to notice.
But his grin faltered that evening. Where they made camp, there were no flowers for him to pick. While he tried to come up with another plan, Joe asked him to ride over the hill with him.
“I thought I saw someone in the woods.”
Cecil could hardly refuse. Besides that, Louise was so busy—cooking, taking care of Marnie, helping Hazel with Petey—
If not for the fact those things were a normal part of camp routine, he’d be tempted to think she was purposely staying out of his way.
He rode beside Joe to the crest of the second hill and shaded his eyes. In the distance, Cecil made out two structures. A small barn and an even smaller second building. “Settlers?”
Joe studied the place several minutes longer. “Settlers.” His voice carried a hard note. “Not good place to live. Too dry. Bad water. Bad wind.”
“Maybe they’ll have the good sense to move on.”
Joe grunted. “White man not have good sense.”
Cecil laughed. “You forgetting you’re half white?”
“Not forgetting. Some white men different.” He reined around and headed back to camp.
The meal was ready when they returned. Again, Louise kept busy.
It was understandable that she was concerned about Marnie, but hovering over her made it impossible for Cecil to get a chance to talk to her alone.
There was always tomorrow. He’d somehow find a way.
The next morning, he saw his chance when she headed to the stream for water. He followed and waited until she’d filled the buckets.
“I’ll carry them back.” He took them from her.
She released them and straightened. “Thank you.”
“I’ve been hoping for a chance to talk to you.”
“Cecil, there isn’t anything more to be said.”
“But I think there is. Please hear me out.”
“Cecil.” Her glance went past his right ear.
“Please.”
“Cecil, look.”
“There’s something behind me, isn’t there?”
She tipped her head in acknowledgment, her gaze never shifting.
He turned slowly to see—
A boy? A very young boy? Where did he come from?
“He must be from that settler’s place Joe and I saw. But it’s a fair distance away. What is he doing here?”
“Let’s ask. Hello, how can we help you?”
The boy rocked back and forth on his feet. Matted brown hair hung in his eyes. And a good wash wouldn’t have gone amiss. Brown eyes regarded Cecil with blatant fear. Less fear when he looked at Louise.
“Mama sick. You help.” The words were faint, almost sucked away by the grass-bending wind.
“Of course, I’ll help. But first, what’s your name?” Louise edged past Cecil, whispering out of the side of her mouth. “Let me find out what’s going on.”
Cecil waited. Their visitor was just a boy posing no danger to Louise, but Cecil studied every shadow and squinted at every movement of grass.
“What’s your name?” Louise repeated.
“Dobie.”
“Hi, Dobie. How old are you?”
“Six. Almost.”
Cecil grinned at the boy’s answer.
“Good. Now tell me about your mama.”
“Her sick.” The rocking motion had stopped but now returned.
“Where is she?”
Dobie jabbed his thumb in the general direction of the place Cecil and Joe rode yesterday.
“Very well. You’ll have to show me where to go. But first, I need my bag.”
Dobie looked ready to take flight.
Louise held up her hand. “Don’t run away. My bag has medicine in it that I might need.” She stepped away and stopped. “Do you want to come with me?”
“I wait here.”
Water splashed from the buckets as Cecil trotted after Louise.
“I’m going with you.”
She waved his offer away. “No need.”
“I’m going.” Wild dogs wouldn’t prevent it.
They reached camp and she announced, “A young boy has come for help.” She reached into the back of the wagon for her bag and trotted away.
“Hang on a minute,” Cecil called.
“Time is of the essence.”
“I’m coming.”
“Suit yourself.” She hurried onward.
“Well, shoot,” he muttered and started to follow her.
“Like I say, white man not have good sense.”
Cecil ground to a halt at Joe’s words.
“Could be that place we saw last night.” Joe studied Cecil with dark eyes. “Long way to walk. Maybe take horse.”
Cecil paused. It would take minutes to saddle Chief. But then if it was the same place, he’d have no trouble overtaking them, and it would save a whole lot of time in the long run. He changed direction.
Joe followed. “We’ll wait some, then move out. You can catch up easy on horseback.”
“Sounds fine.” Poor Chief had never been saddled in such a hurry. He gave Cecil a look rife with protest. “Sorry, old pal, we need to hurry.” They rode after Louise and the boy.
The pounding of his horse’s hooves drew her attention. She flicked a gaze at him, then continued on her way.
Dobie skittered into nearby bushes and hid as Cecil caught up.
“I’m giving you both a ride.” In his mind, there was no alternative but to accept his offer.
But Louise continued marching.
He followed. “Louise, wait. If it’s where I think it is—”
“There’s only one horse.”
“We can all ride. It will be faster.”
She slowed, glanced to the bushes where Dobie remained. “Dobie, how sick is your mama?” To Cecil, she whispered, “I can’t ride if he doesn’t.”
“Her sick.”
“How far to your home?”
“Far ’nough.”
“Then let’s ride. We’ll get there faster.”
The boy eased closer, his wary gaze on Cecil, who remained motionless as he waited.
“You’ll ride?” Louise asked.
Dobie’s nod flipped dark hair over his face.
Cecil took her bag and hung it to the saddle, then held out a hand to her. “Sit behind me.”
“Astride?”
He chuckled. “You’ll be more comfortable. And who cares?”
“Very well.” She gripped his arm, and he half-lifted her as she settled behind him.
“Up you come.” He reached for Dobie. Louise did, too, and they swung him up to sit between them where he’d be safe. “Now hang on good.” When Louise gripped his shirt at the waist, Cecil patted each hand. Let her think it was to make sure she had a good hold. Really, it was to touch her. Chief pranced, eager to be on his way.
“Dobie, where am I going?”
The boy pointed in the direction.
Exactly where Cecil thought they were headed. He kept a gentle pace as they rode onward. They crested the hill and began the descent. As they neared the building, he sniffed. It was the odor of neglect and sickness.
Louise dug her hands into his sides. Did she smell it, too? Not that she had much choice.
They rode to the shack. He lifted Dobie down, helped Louise to the ground, and then dismounted.
With the stench stronger here, he and Louise looked at each other. The tightness around her mouth said all he needed to know. This was a place of illness.
“You come.” Dobie led the way into the house.
The sour odor almost knocked them over. It permeated every corner, every board, every nostril. A bucket by the door was full of fetid garbage. Flies buzzed around another bucket across the room.
Louise cupped her hand over her nose as they followed the boy.
“Mama, I get help.” Dobie rushed to the cot where a woman lay—thin and pale as death.
Across the room, on another cot, was the shape of a person, the blankets pulled over from head to toe—likely the man of the house. A handful of flies hovered over the blanket.
Cecil swallowed hard as Louise hurried to the woman’s side.
She whispered, “She’s still alive. Barely. Ma’am, how can I help?”
Cecil clenched his jaw. The woman was beyond help. Her eyes had that look to them. Did Louise see it as well?
“Dobie?”
Louise bent close to hear the woman’s weak voice. “He’s here. You have a brave boy.”
A skeletal hand reached for Louise. “Promise me you’ll take care of him.”
“I promise.” Louise stroked the woman’s forehead, the paper-thin skin crackling under her touch.
Weak, colorless eyes sought Cecil and held his gaze for a moment.
He nodded.
Before he could add his promise to take care of Dobie, her eyes closed, and a breath shuddered into her chest.
Louise cradled the woman’s hand. The contrast between hers and the sick woman’s sent cold into the pit of Cecil’s stomach.
“What’s his full name? Do you have any relatives?” Louise asked, a hint of urgency in her voice.
“Book. On shelf.” A weak jab toward the narrow shelf fixed to the wall by the table. “Give him family and love. Teach him about God. Make sure he knows I love him.”
“I will.”
A shudder shook the frail body. Cecil held his breath, watching for the covers to lift.
They didn’t.
“She’s gone,” Louise whispered. She looked over her shoulder for Dobie.
The boy pressed into the far corner, eyes big as wagon wheels, dark as midnight.
Moving slowly, Louise went to the boy and knelt before him. “Your mama is gone.”
“To heaven. Like Papa?” He darted a glance at the shrouded body.
“Yes. She asked me to take care of you.”
He studied Louise so long and hard Cecil wondered if the boy had blanked his mind.
“Mama said she pray for me to get new mama and papa.” Dobie’s gaze found Cecil. “I not want new mama and papa.” A silent sob rattled the boy.
Louise scooped him up and hurried from the house, calling over her shoulder, “Bring the book.”
By the time Cecil found the book and followed, the pair was sitting a distance away from the buildings and the smell, Dobie cradled in Louise’s arms, his shoulders rising and falling in quiet sobs.
Louise let silent tears drip from her chin. This poor boy had witnessed things no child nor adult should endure. The only comfort she could offer was her arms. And her prayers. “God, thank You that Dobie found us. That You brought us to him.”
Cecil led his horse toward them. “I’ll take you back to camp, then return to—”
She nodded. He didn’t need to finish. They both knew what had to be done.
“Brought the book.” He held it up. A black notebook.
“Could you put it in my bag, please?” She’d look at it later. Right now, there was a child to take care of.
They rode back to camp the same way they’d ridden away, but everything had changed. An orphaned boy who would need lots of care. And her heart feeling ripped loose. She’d seen things while nursing, but nothing that compared to this. God willing, she’d never again see such a scene.
Needing comfort and allowing herself this forbidden gesture, she leaned over Dobie and pressed her forehead to Cecil’s back. Her fingers fisted into his shirt fabric, where she clung to his waist. One hand came back and wrapped around her fingers. A shiver crossed his shoulders.
