Wed On The Wagon Train

He kept an unobtrusive eye on the Prescotts. Although Matt had done all right so far, Josiah wasn’t quite ready to leave the kid completely on his own. This was a foreign environment to the boy and his sister. One filled with obstacles that could easily spell injury or worse for the unwary.

Miles from the nearest town or settlement, their group had nobody to depend upon other than one another. It was only right that Josiah should watch out for all his fellow travelers and, even more so, for a pair of siblings without any other family to back them.

His eyes swept along the line of wagons stretched out a goodly distance across the prairie, cutting a swath through the tall grasses. There wasn’t a tree in sight. Or anything else that cast a shadow big enough to offer a moment’s relief from the rays of the sun, climbing steadily higher in the sky. The day had turned warm already, and it would grow even hotter by the time the sun reached its zenith.

Josiah returned his gaze to the Prescotts’ covered wagon, near the end of the line. Doubtless, neither Matt nor his sister were used to spending hours out of doors with little protection from the unrelenting elements. But Matt trekked gamely ahead without complaint.

His sister had again taken up a position atop the wagon seat, parasol in hand. Tugging free the lace-edged handkerchief tucked at her wrist, she placed the material over her nose and mouth and daintily coughed into it. “Isn’t there anything you can do about this dust, Mattie?”

“Nope.” Matt reached under his hat brim and wiped a trickle of moisture from his temple, then adjusted the hat to shield his eyes from the glare of sunlight reflecting off the pale canvas wagon bonnets in front of him. “But if you get down and walk you’ll stay out of the worst of the dust cloud.”

Adela flapped her handkerchief in front of her face, but she wasn’t waving it as a white flag in surrender. “Walking in this heat would be even more miserable.”

“The other women clearly don’t think so,” Matt pointed out.

“All the same, I’ll stay here.”

“Suit yourself.”

Adela lapsed into silence. A few minutes later, her expression suddenly brightened when she sighted a small girl walking alongside their covered wagon. “Hello again,” she greeted the child. “I remember you from yesterday. I’m Adela.”

The little girl trailed her hand through the high grasses as she moved forward. “’ello, Dela.”

Adela’s smile stretched wider at the shortened version of her name. “And this is Mattie.” She indicated her brother with a flutter of her handkerchief.

“Matt,” he interposed, plainly not liking his sister’s nickname. Perhaps he thought it made him sound like a child rather than a man.

“’ello, Matt.” The child’s eyes shifted from the boy back to his sister, her little face tilted upward as she focused on Adela perched high above her on the wagon seat.

But she wasn’t paying proper attention to how close she was getting to the wagon wheels, which were taller than she was. And neither Matt nor Adela seemed to comprehend the deadly hazard the wagon presented to the little girl.

Josiah was all too aware of the danger, however. Moving quickly, he scooped up the child and settled her in front of him on the saddle.

She tipped her head back and looked at him with big, surprised eyes. Though her name escaped him at the moment, he recognized her as one of the Bakers’ brood. She was a miniature copy of her mama, unlike the rest of her siblings who took after their father in coloring. A large heavyset man, George Baker had black hair and a thick beard that reached halfway down his shirtfront.

Urging his horses to a faster pace, Josiah traveled up the line to reach her family’s covered wagon. After depositing her next to her mother, he cautioned Edith Baker to keep a closer watch on her child. The woman expressed effusive gratitude, but he waved it off and led his string of horses back down the line.

As he neared the Prescotts’ wagon, Matt called out to him.

Reining in next to the kid, Josiah matched his horse’s pace to Matt’s on foot. From his greater height atop his mount, he couldn’t see much of the boy’s expression, blocked as it was by the wide brim of his hat.

But Matt’s stiff posture telegraphed his discontent. “Why did you whisk that child away? You acted as if you feared we might taint her somehow.”

“It was nothing against you,” he refuted, stunned at the conclusion the kid had drawn from his actions. “I was simply trying to keep her safe.”

“Safe from what? I don’t understand.” Though Matt tipped his head up toward Josiah, half his face remained in shadow.

“A fully loaded wagon is hard to stop, and if that child had ventured too close to the wheels, she would’ve been run over and crushed.”

Adela gasped, her face contorting into a mask of horror. “Dear God, no.” She leaned to the side in an attempt to see down the line of wagons in front of her, but the canvas cover immediately ahead blocked her view.

“She’s safely back with her mother now,” Josiah reassured her. “But that type of accident’s all too common out here on the trail.”

“How do you know that?” Matt questioned. “Have you completed this trip before?”

“No, but when Rebecca’s family made the journey two years ago, her sister wrote dozens of letters about the experience. Rebecca shared several of them with me.” They had given him a firsthand account of the many perils another group of travelers had encountered along the trail. “Most people have no idea what they’re in for. But they soon learn. Just as you will.”

Matt ducked his head and his face disappeared completely beneath the brim of his hat. “Well, thank you for what you did. I’d never forgive myself if my ignorance was the cause of a child’s death.” Strong emotion roughened his voice.

Josiah shifted in the saddle. “No harm done this time. And now you’ll know to be careful in the future.”

Matt bobbed his head and didn’t say anything more.

With their conversation at an end, Josiah guided his string of horses a ways from the dust kicked up by the oxen teams and covered wagons.

The remainder of the morning passed uneventfully. At midday, Miles called the wagon train to a halt, allowing people the opportunity to eat a cold meal while the animals took a short rest.

And after the noon stop, Adela opted to walk instead of continuing to ride in the wagon. Though her parasol remained very much in evidence, it drew fewer stares and sniggers than it had the day before—most likely because she’d volunteered to help keep an eye on the smaller children now that she knew about the potential dangers.

Several little ones surrounded her as she strolled along at the plodding pace set by the oxen. She led one toddler by the hand, and a handful of other children trailed behind while she regaled the group with tales of daring adventure. Judging by her expression, Adela plainly found as much enjoyment in the pastime as the youngsters did.

Which served as proof that both she and her brother had begun to adjust to trail life. Admittedly, Adela at a significantly slower rate than Matt. But it was progress.

There was hope for the Prescotts yet.

* * *

The fourth night on the trail, Mattie perched on a slight rise overlooking their campsite. She was in the company of Josiah—though not by her choice. Miles Carpenter had put them together for guard duty.

She suspected Josiah might have had something to do with their pairing. But, despite that, there was no denying his presence calmed the worst of her fears about leaving the safety of the wagon circle.

Unfortunately, after settling at their post he’d seemed bent on passing the time in conversation.

The need to watch her every word made silence easier, but imprudent, as Adela had pointed out a few days ago.

Since staying mute wasn’t the wisest course, she might as well make the most of this opportunity to learn all she could, given that Josiah was more knowledgeable about life on the trail. Besides, if she was the one directing the discussion, she could keep the focus away from thorny areas, such as “Matt’s” past.

Her fingers flexed around the barrel of her father’s rifle. “I know we’re guarding the wagons and livestock.” That much was obvious even to her. “But what exactly are we guarding against?” She hoped the darkness hid the flush that heated her cheeks at voicing a question that so starkly revealed her ignorance.

“Coyotes and other critters. They might go after the smaller animals, or search for scraps of food around the campfires. Also, sounds travel far out here, and any sudden noise could spook the livestock and make them bolt. If they do, someone needs to be close by to round up the animals before they get too far.” He tilted his head back and glanced overhead. “The sky looks clear tonight, but a sudden thunderstorm could cause a stampede if we’re caught unawares. Trouble’s more easily averted when you see it coming.”

She fiddled with the bottom button on her father’s coat. “Just out of curiosity, in any of those letters did Rebecca’s sister write about a catastrophe befalling the group because somebody performed poorly during guard duty?”

Josiah turned his head, his gaze coming to rest on her again. “She didn’t mention it. Are you worried something like that might happen?”

Her hand curled into a fist, and the button she’d forgotten she was clenching popped off. She hastily stuffed it into her coat pocket. “Well, it’s possible, isn’t it?”

“I suppose. But don’t brood overmuch about it. As long as we keep our eyes open, it’s a simple enough job. Most nights the most difficult task you’ll face is ensuring you don’t nod off.” Josiah’s teeth flashed white in the darkness. “But talking helps with that. Plus, wild animals are more likely to keep their distance if they hear voices.”