Wagon train promises, p.15
Wagon Train Promises, page 15
She longed for words of comfort spoken into her fractured heart…to look at Cecil and find strength in his steady gaze. To be held in strong, protective arms.
None of that was possible with Dobie squeezed between them.
Nor should she even be thinking of such things.
Except the horrific scene was burned into her mind.
She allowed herself the comfort of their touch until they were almost back, and then she sat up straight.
“There’s no need to tell everyone what we saw,” Cecil murmured. “I’ll get Joe and Walt to help me.”
At the camp, she and Dobie stood by the dead coals as Cecil signaled to his brother and the scout. They moved away to talk. Gabe joined them to hear Cecil’s report but remained behind as the others got shovels and rode back.
The tremble of Ruby’s lips and the way Angela pressed her fingers to her mouth let Louise know that they understood what was going on.
“Everyone, this is Dobie. He’ll be traveling with us now. I’m taking care of him.” She squeezed the boy’s shoulder. He was so thin. A glance around the shack had made her wonder if his parents had been slowly starving. She’d seen no sign of provisions of any sort.
She introduced the ladies as aunts. Gabe was with the oxen, so she didn’t need to introduce him.
“And Uncle Bertie. He has lots of pets.”
Bertie held out a cat. “You can pet Smoky.”
The poor child trembled and pressed to her side.
Hazel looked at him, sorrow and sympathy filling her face. “He’s no doubt hungry. I’ve got beans and bacon.” She filled a plate and added a biscuit.
Dobie drew back at her approach. But the offer of food was too much, and a thin arm snaked out and took the plate. The boy withdrew and sat cross-legged on the ground, his back against Louise’s legs.
She would have liked a moment to explain to the others what she had promised the dying woman, but it would have to wait until later.
Hazel handed Louise a cup of coffee, and she drank it standing up with Dobie at her legs.
The women began to put away things in preparation for leaving. Then they waited for Cecil and the others to return.
Louise edged away enough she could sit beside Dobie, who pressed to her side. Poor little guy. His parents are gone. Surrounded by strangers and then being forced to move away from what had been his home.
She wrapped an arm around him. Her heart flooded with unexpected love. Silently, she promised him she would do the best for him, sharing with him whatever home she had.
The men returned, faces drawn. The oxen plodding across the grass and the rattle of harnesses offered the only sound as they hitched up the animals and prepared to leave.
When she indicated that Dobie should come in the wagon with her and Gabe, he backed away, shaking his head hard. Cecil prepared to travel beside the oxen.
“Dobie, do you want to ride with me?”
The boy sidled over to Cecil who pulled him up behind him. Dobie leaned his cheek to Cecil’s back and drew in a long breath.
Cecil reached back and pressed his hand to Dobie’s thin shoulders. “You’re safe with me, little man. I promise you that.”
Louise curled her thumb over her index finger. Cecil’s words and his promise echoed her own.
But Louise was the one who gave her word to the boy’s mother, and she didn’t intend to let another take her place. Dobie belonged with her. Though they would all travel together until they reached the fort.
And then what? By then, this group of people would be Dobie’s family. She flexed her curled fingers. Maybe she’d stay around the fort until the boy got used to seeing their fellow travelers go their various ways.
At this moment, she couldn’t deal with the idea of loss and saying goodbye and not seeing the others. “‘Take therefore no thought for the morrow: for the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself. Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.’”
Out of habit, she murmured the words aloud, bringing Gabe’s attention to her.
“What did you say?”
She repeated the verse. “I’d say we’ve had enough troubles and concerns for one day.”
“So has that little fellow.” He tipped his head toward Cecil and Dobie. “I’m happy to see Cecil’s concern for him.”
When Gabe shifted to look at her, she tried to ignore him, but he continued to study her. So she brought her gaze to him, and at the gentleness in his eyes, she released a pent-up sob.
“It was awful.” She described the scene.
“This may be some comfort to you. Cecil told me the boy’s father had died very recently.”
Her breath whooshed out like it fired from a slingshot. “I’m so glad. It was awful to think Dobie had—” The words caught in the back of her throat, trapped by her horror and relief.
Gabe pressed his hands to hers. “What a miracle that God put us here when we were needed.”
“He said his mother prayed for him to have a new mama and papa. And along we came. Just in time.” She sat up straight, sending a stiff rod down her spine. “I promised his ma I would take care of him. And I shall.”
“What about— Never mind.”
Louise might have pressed him to finish his sentence, but Bertie fell back, his goat and dog at his heels. He’d left the cats in the wagon ahead.
“Mama?”
Marnie moved forward from where she’d been on a pallet in the back. “Yes, son.”
“Me and Dobie be friends?”
Dobie turned at his name.
Bertie waved. “You me be friends,” he called.
Dobie pressed his cheek to Cecil’s back.
“You need to let him get used to you,” Marnie said. “He’s surrounded by strangers. I’m sure he’s feeling a little afraid at the moment.”
“I not like strangers.” Bertie slowed, let the wagon pass him, then trotted up behind Cecil. “We not be strangers. I big boy. You little boy. We be friends.” He touched the tip of his finger to Dobie’s leg, then ambled back to his cats.
Cecil spoke to Dobie over his shoulder. “Bertie and you will be good friends. You’ll learn to be happy here. You’re safe.” He met Louise’s look, his eyes sending some sort of message.
She didn’t know what he was trying to tell her.
CHAPTER 17
Cecil had brought a few items of clothing from the house for Dobie. All there was. They needed to be washed. As did the boy. He smelled like a cowboy who’d spent his summer on horseback and abhorred water.
But for now, Dobie needed to know he was safe.
Cecil hadn’t spoken his promise aloud to the dying mother, but he’d meant it with every breath he took. He would see that the boy had a home. A mother and father. All he had to do was convince Louise. He would do it tonight if he could.
But the evening was busy with chores, with Louise doing Dobie’s laundry. Hazel joined her to wash Petey’s items.
Cecil persuaded the boy to bathe in the river by joining him.
No matter what they did or where they went, Dobie clung to either him or Louise, making it impossible for them to have a private talk. And what Cecil had to say needed to be said with no one else around.
At bedtime, Dobie refused to go to bed until Cecil got out his bedroll. He followed Cecil as closely as his shadow. Cecil spread blankets next to his for the boy. But not until Cecil lay down, did Dobie do the same, a weary sigh whispering through the air.
When Cecil left for guard duty, the boy jerked awake.
“Go back to sleep,” Cecil whispered. “I’m going to watch the camp, but I’ll be back. I promise.” When he returned, Dobie was gone.
“He’s with me.” Louise’s murmur carried on the gentle breeze.
“Thanks.” But he wished the boy was still beside him. Cecil liked feeling he could provide protection for Dobie. But something more, bigger, something that flooded his heart with warmth accompanied the boy’s presence.
This had to be the love a man felt for a child. Even one not his own.
He woke to Dobie sitting on the ground watching him.
“Morning,” he said.
“Morning,” Dobie echoed. He leaned close. “My new mama smells nice. Like flowers.”
“You noticed that, did you?”
Dobie nodded. “My mama say a new mama would smell good.”
“Your mama was right.” At least in this case. Cecil pulled on his boots and rolled up his bedding to stow in the wagon.
Dobie did a fair-to-middling job of rolling his blankets and handing them to Cecil to put away.
“I see your new mama is making coffee.” She ground beans at the back of the middle wagon.
“She say I could have biscuits for breakfast. She make good biscuits?”
“Sure does.”
“Good.”
“Did your mama say something about that too?” The woman had done everything she could to prepare her little son for this unfortunate situation. Especially praying for someone to come along in time.
“No, but my mama made good biscuits until—” He ducked his head.
Cecil caught his chin. “Until what?” He’d seen their supplies—or rather, the lack of them. Every can had been scraped clean. There wasn’t a thing left to eat. The timing of them finding Dobie was further evidence of God’s hand.
“No more flour.” He plunked to the ground, his head hanging.
Bertie heard them talking and ambled over with both cats in his arms and the goat and dog at his heels. He sat beside Dobie, who gave him a cautious sideways glance.
“This is Fluff.” He indicated the furriest of the two cats. “This is Smoky.” He lifted Smoky to Dobie’s lap. “You pet her.”
While Dobie stroked the cat, Bertie introduced Limpy, the three-legged dog, and Alice, the goat.
Dobie gave no indication that he heard Bertie. The moment the cat began to purr beneath his hand, tears ran down the boy’s cheeks.
Cecil blinked back his own weeping to witness the silent grief that engulfed the boy.
He hadn’t heard Louise cross to them. Didn’t know she was there until she knelt by Dobie and pulled him into her arms.
At first, the boy resisted and then melted into the embrace.
Bertie sniffed. “You not be sad.”
“He’ll be sad for a little while,” Louise assured the big man. “Thanks for lending him your cat. That helps him not feel so sad.”
Bertie patted Dobie’s back. “You hold her long as you want.” He pushed to his feet and ambled toward his mother who was awake.
Dobie fisted away his tears. “Mama say I shouldn’t cry.”
Louise stroked his hair. “You can cry if you want. We understand, don’t we, Cecil?”
“We do.” He rubbed Dobie’s back, his gaze fusing with Louise. He understood far more than the boy’s need to confront his grief.
He and Louise were bound together over this boy.
All that day, he sought for a chance to speak to Louise alone. But the boy clung to him more than ever. He rode behind him again as they moved out. He followed him into the bushes when he went to relieve himself. He accompanied him out to the oxen and trailed at his heels as the men brought the oxen in. Dobie pressed to Cecil’s side when they ate. And when Cecil took his turn on watch, Dobie went to Louise.
On the third morning, Bertie called, “Dobie, you come? I take Alice and Limpy for a drink?”
Dobie had thankfully opted to stay with Louise while Cecil brought in a pair of oxen. Cecil feared if he didn’t step on the boy, one of the animals would.
At Bertie’s invitation, Dobie looked around uncertainly.
“Go ’head,” Louise urged. “We aren’t going to leave anyone behind.”
Dobie seemed to consider the idea, then trotted after Bertie.
Cecil shot Louise a smile. The boy was feeling more secure.
But by the time Cecil returned with the animals, Dobie was back at Louise’s heels. She turned with a pot of hot coffee and almost tripped on him.
Cecil rushed forward and grabbed the boy. “Dobie, you can’t follow her all the time. Or me. We might trip on you. Sit here.” He indicated a log stool. “You can see us both. We aren’t leaving you. You’re safe with us.”
Dobie rocked back and forth on his heels, his eyes wide. Then he ducked his head and perched on the stool.
“Good boy. Remember, you’re safe.”
Dobie nodded, his gaze shifting from Cecil to Louise. But when Cecil headed for the stream for water, Dobie jolted to his feet and trotted after him.
Fine. It was going to take a few days for the boy to feel secure. One thing they had lots of on this trip was time. Cecil just had to be patient. But sooner or later, he was going to have that talk with Louise.
It was Sunday before that opportunity arose.
They took time for a short service. Marnie had her strength back and joined in singing with Pa for the first time. In fact…this was the first time Pa had taken up his guitar since the service of thanks they’d had after the illness was over.
Dobie stared at the guitar like a starving man seeing food. He sat on a stool between Louise and Cecil but eased to the ground and inched toward Pa.
Cecil whispered to Louise. “I wonder if he’s ever seen or heard one before.”
“I thought the same.”
Dobie stopped inches from Pa’s feet, his gaze riveted to Pa’s fingers as they strummed out the music.
Pa smiled at the boy but continued to sing one song after another. Far more than they normally sang.
Cecil glanced around the circle of people. It appeared they were all as fascinated by Dobie’s interest in the music as he was.
Pa stopped playing. “That’s all for now.” He directed his words to Dobie. “But there will be more music.”
Cecil expected Dobie to hurry back to them, but he stayed rooted to his spot as Pa opened his Bible to read the Twenty-Third Psalm. “‘The Lord is my shepherd.’”
Dobie did not move except for shudders snaking across his thin shoulders.
Pa closed the Bible and leaned forward, talking to Dobie. “Son, have you heard those words before?”
Dobie nodded. “Papa read them. He say we are sheep. He tell me I should be a good sheep.”
Cecil blinked away a tear. On one side of him, Hazel choked back a sob. On the other side, Louise sniffled. He reached for her hand, but she pulled it away.
Pa continued. “God promises He will always be with us and take care of all our needs.”
Dobie nodded again. “That’s what Papa and Mama said.”
“God loves you.” Pa stroked his hand over the boy’s head.
A reverent silence filled the air, and then Pa prayed.
As they set out, Pa was well enough to walk by his oxen, and Dobie fell in step with him.
Cecil looked around for Louise. She was in the lead wagon, where she’d spent many days riding. Hazel sat beside her. Irene rode out front at Walt’s side.
Cecil could take his time. He joined Joe for a spell. After that, he rode to the crest of a nearby hill and watched the wagons pass. He then guided Chief to the lead wagon.
“Louise, would you like to walk a ways?”
She darted a glance at him. “I’m driving the oxen.” She flicked the reins to make sure he understood what she meant.
“I don’t mind doing it.” Hazel reached for the leather straps. “Go ahead.”
Louise curled her fingers tighter, but Hazel insisted.
Cecil dismounted, tied Chief to the wagon, and then reached up to help Louise to the ground. They moved aside to let the wagons pass and then followed on the grass bent over by the wheels.
All of Cecil’s rehearsed speeches disappeared into the bright sky. He cleared his throat.
She glanced at him. “Did you say something?”
No, but now was his time. “Dobie is doing well, don’t you think?”
“Poor child has had a lot of loss, but yes, he seems to be adjusting.” Her words ended on a note of mirth. “Look, he’s walking with Bertie.”
The pair followed the second wagon, the goat bouncing along at Bertie’s side.
“They both need a friend.” It wasn’t what he wanted to say, but the words wouldn’t come.
“I can’t believe what he’s gone through. But his mother did her best to prepare him. Poor woman.”
This was his opportunity. “We promised her he’d have a good home.”
“Yes, and he shall.” She kicked up a spray of grass seeds.
“He needs a mother and a father.”
She stumbled and righted herself before he caught her. Dust whispered around her feet as she backed away.
“I’ve been thinking the same thing.”
Why did her voice crack? Was the idea of marrying him that distressing?
She continued. “You and Hazel should get married and raise the boy.”
“Me and Hazel?” Why would she suggest such a thing? Before he could answer, she trotted to Pa’s wagon and climbed aboard.
She’d promised Dobie’s mother that he’d have a family. Cecil was right. The boy needed a mother and a father. Marriage was out of the question for her. At least for now. Wouldn’t she have to give up nursing to get married? But unless she married, she wouldn’t have anyone to share Dobie’s care. The argument had gone round and round in her mind. She’d avoided the obvious solution as long as she could. Dobie deserved a mother and father. Cecil would make a wonderful pa. And Hazel was always loving and kind.
But saying the words left her insides bleeding.
It was almost time to stop for the noon break. The thought of seeing Cecil taking Hazel aside to propose seared her throat. Thankfully, no one asked her a question because she would have been unable to answer.
How was she to remain calm on the outside when a storm raged inside?
Joe called a halt.
She jumped down and began pulling out the food prepared for the meal. They never took time to build a fire at noon, but how she longed for a cup of coffee to flood her insides with strength. “Lord.” She clattered a lid to drown out her prayer. “‘Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death—’” The deep breath she sucked in did not erase the pain.
