Tracy Blalock - Wed On The Wagon Train

“I have plenty of time yet. It won’t take long.” He finished his coffee, then tossed out the dregs.

But still, he remained.

Fortunately, the oxen didn’t give her any difficulty as she worked to hitch them to the wagon.

Josiah crossed his arms over his chest, a slight grin stretching the corners of his mouth. “I see the oxen are behaving for you today.”

“I was worried they might turn stubborn again after stopping for so long overnight, the way they did yesterday before the ferry crossing,” she admitted aloud, now that possibility hadn’t come to pass.

“You’ll be an old hand at this in no time,” he predicted.

That was her hope.

Once the team was in position, it was a simple matter to reverse the process of the previous night.

Now, if only the rest of the day would prove as trouble-free.

* * *

Once out on the trail, Josiah stuck close to the line of covered wagons despite the fact that his horses could travel at a much faster pace than the slow-moving oxen teams.

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.