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 letsilent 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.

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.