Chapter 6

The moment Louise could see inside the wagon, she understood Cecil’s reaction. The blankets had been tossed haphazardly over the front seat. Several boxes stood open, and the contents scattered about. Hazel dug through the satchel holding Petey’s clothing, throwing items over her shoulder.

“Hazel!” At Louise’s sharp words, the woman looked up, her eyes cloudy blue.

“Where’s Petey? I can’t find him. Where is he?” The panicky words tore at the air.

“Hazel, he’s right here.” Cecil stood beside Louise, the child in his arms.

“Mama.”

At Petey’s voice, Hazel sat back, releasing a gust of air. “When I couldn’t find him—” She scowled at the mess around her and gave a mirthless laugh. “’ Course, I didn’t think he’d be in the satchel. I don’t know what I was thinking.” She folded each garment and returned it to the bag. “I’ll clean up this mess.”

Louise and Cecil edged back, far enough away they could whisper without Hazel overhearing.

“She seems confused.” Cecil’s attention stayed on Hazel.

“Decidedly. Her fever might have risen.” Louise returned to her friend. “Hazel, how are you feeling?”

“Fine. I’m fine. Oh, a little tired, but that’s to be expected.” Her hands fluttered as she folded items and returned them to the various boxes. She shot a glance at Louise. “You must wonder why I did something so foolish.” She waved to indicate the untidy interior. “It’s just that when I awoke and didn’t see Petey, I panicked. I thought—” She shrugged. “I was only half awake and not thinking clearly.”

“He’s fine. We’ve been looking after him.” Louise’s concern was not soothed by Hazel’s explanation. She jumped into the back of the wagon and sat close to her friend. Touched her forehead. “You’re still a little feverish.” Though she wasn’t burning up. The medicinal tea had helped. “Do you have anything else going on that you aren’t telling me?”

Hazel’s restless hands stilled in her lap. “I had such a disturbing dream about Peter. He was calling me. Trying to tell me something. A warning, I think.” She shook her head. “It’s left me feeling unsettled.”

Louise held her friend close. “You’ve had a fever. That’s probably what brought on the disturbing dream. Let’s finish tidying up, then join Cecil and Petey. That will make you feel better.”

Together, they folded everything and returned boxes to where they belonged. Then Louise took Hazel’s hand and led her to the fire.

“Sit here and enjoy the company. I’ll finish supper.” While she mixed up the dumpling dough, she watched Cecil with Hazel. As she’d hoped, he sat beside her and talked.

“We saw a coyote floating down the river on a log,” he said. “Petey here thought he’d like him for a pet.”

“Doggie,” Petey said and toddled toward the river.

Cecil directed him back by holding out his ball. “Catch.” He waited until Petey held out his hands six inches from Cecil’s and “tossed” the ball to the little boy.

“A coyote on a log. Imagine that.” Hazel’s tone was less enthusiastic than one might hope, but at least she was taking part in the conversation.

Cecil told her that the others across the river had waved. He repeated what he’d told Louise about how they wouldn’t go on without her and Petey.

“Good thing you’re with us, or they might not wait.”

That brought out Hazel’s chuckle.

Louise turned away from watching them. This was what she wanted. Both to see her friend feeling better and to have her enjoy Cecil’s attention. She was nothing but happy for both of them.

Again, she pressed her palm to the ache in her chest. Strange how it came on without cause. Perhaps she was breathing too much smoke.

She kept her attention on the meal, the fire, the boiling water, the clear blue sky, and the fluttering leaves on the nearby trees.… And ignored Cecil and Hazel until it was time to serve the meal.

Cecil offered grace, his words calming her soul.

“God, keep us safe,” she whispered before she loaded plates for everyone. If Cecil overheard her prayer, he would assume she meant from floodwaters. But that was only part of her prayer. She also meant—she shook her head.

What did she mean?

She had no answer apart from the fear that she would fail in her desire to see her best friend and Cecil falling in love and getting married.

Again, that tightness in her chest.

She sat a distance from Hazel and Cecil, the latter feeding Petey from his plate. A picture of a happy family.

Spoons scraped against metal plates as everyone ate. Even Hazel had developed an appetite. “Thank You, God,” Louise whispered, ducking her head when Cecil glanced her way, a silent question in his eyes.

When they’d finished eating, Louise suggested Hazel might like to walk. “Cecil, would you go with her and make sure she’s all right?”

He hesitated. “We’ll help with dishes first, and then you can join us.”

“Oh no. You go ahead while Hazel is feeling up to it.” She gathered up the dishes and slipped them into the pot of hot water.

Still, Cecil hesitated. Questions lingered in his eyes.

Finally, he exhaled and gave in. “Very well.” And with Petey between them, holding their hands, they made their slow way along the path Louise and Cecil had taken a few hours ago.

Louise ducked her head, giving the plate she scrubbed undue attention until they’d gone several yards. Then she looked up, her gaze following them.

Her friend deserved every bit of happiness life could provide.

Cecil concentratedon keeping Petey from stepping in puddles. He pointed out the flash of red from a bird in the trees.

Hazel nodded.

He wanted to make a joke about the robin, but nothing came to mind. The air between them was stiff. Yet he’d been so relaxed with Louise not many hours ago. They’d laughed naturally. He looked over his shoulder.

Louise was watching them. Did he detect longing in her expression? He should have been more insistent that she accompany them.

Hazel slowed. “I’d like to go back.”

They retraced their measured steps, and Hazel returned to the log stool. “I’m very tired.” Even her voice lacked strength.

Cecil studied her, then arched a brow at Louise.

She met his look and drew her mouth back, so she was concerned about her friend.

He waited while Louise helped Hazel prepare for bed. When she returned, he voiced his concern. “I hope she’s getting better. If something—” He looked toward those on the other side of the river. How would they ever explain if something happened to Hazel?

“She ate. She isn’t feverish any longer. I think she’s on the mend. A few days of rest will do her good.”

He wanted to believe the same thing.

Petey waggled his ball to Cecil, and he played with the little guy until it was time for him to go to bed. Hazel drew her son to her.

Pink tinted the sky. The evening lay before them. They’d discussed sleeping arrangements. Louise thought Hazel would sleep better if not so crowded, so Cecil set up a tent close to the wagon where Louise would hear if Hazel needed attention. For himself, he would sleep under the wagon where he could hear if any of them needed help or if the water rose.

A glance in that direction revealed it had not.

Nor had it receded.

Light still lingered in the sky. An evening chill had them both returning to the warmth of the fire. He’d done little throughout the day and wasn’t sleepy. Nor did Louise yawn or suggest she’d like to go to bed.

“Would you mind reading more of that book?”

“Gladly.” She went to the tent, found the book, and then settled herself near the fire and began.

The words flowed over Cecil like sweet birdsong, flooding his senses with sights, scents, and sounds. Then her voice cracked. The light had grown gray. Just how long had she been reading?

“That was good.”

“Yes. Good enough I don’t mind reading it again. In fact, reading it aloud makes it even better.” She flashed a smile. “I don’t know if that makes any sense.”

“It does. Gramma read to us when we were younger. We’d gather round on cold winter nights and, in our imagination, be in a warmer, more exciting place.” He chuckled. “Even the Bible stories took on more color.” The gyrating flames danced and shimmered. “You’ve never imagined the books of Joshua and Judges until you’ve heard Gramma reading them.”

A log snapped. Sparks flew upward. Memories washed over him. Sweet and sad at the same time.

He shook off the melancholy. “Thanks for reading.”

“My pleasure.”

Did he detect a catch in her voice? Well, of course, he did. She’s been reading for a long time. Her throat would be parched. He snagged a clean cup and dipped it into the bucket of water.

“You must be thirsty.”

“Thank you.” She drank the contents and set the cup aside to be washed later. “I’ll go to bed now.” She waved toward the river. “Will the coyote come here, enticed by the smell of food?”

“Unlikely.” But to be on the safe side— “I’ll keep the fire going.” The wood supply had dwindled. He’d do something about it in the morning.

He retrieved his bedroll and spread it by the fire, rather than under the wagon. At least the ground was dry now. By morning, maybe the waters would begin to go down. The flames leaped upward as they caught on another log. He waited while Louise checked on Hazel, declared she was sleeping peacefully, and then crawled into the tent.

The canvas shushed and billowed as she prepared for bed.

Would she notice the little bouquet he left for her? In hindsight, it seemed foolish. She’d barely be able to make out the flowers in the dim light, though the flames burned high enough to offer some assistance.

Everything grew quiet.

Fabric rustled.

“Cecil?”

“Yes?”

“Did you leave these flowers in here?”

“I thought you might enjoy them.” Really? What had he been thinking? She was there only to sleep. Not to dream or muse or wonder.

“That’s very kind of you. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” At least she’d said thank you, though she must surely wonder at the gesture.

“I’m sure they’ll give me sweet dreams.”

“I hope so. Good night.” A smile curved his lips. Good. She thought of sweet dreams not confusion as to why he’d done such a thing.

“Cecil?”

“Yes?”

“It was a good day.”

“It was.” He wanted to ask her what part or parts she’d considered good, but they needed to sleep. He lay back, his hands behind his head, and answered his question. It had been good talking to Louise, telling her about his grandparents, and hearing about her life, which hadn’t been easy.

He grinned into the flickering light. It was interesting to catch her whispered prayers that she didn’t intend for him to hear.

Other scenes replayed in his thoughts. How gentle and kind she was with Hazel. She was the sort of woman you could count on through thick or thin. Not like Myra, who only considered Cecil amusing until someone richer and more important came along.

He turned to face the fire. That was in the past. It no longer mattered. Not when he had a fresh, exciting future ahead.

Sleep must have claimed him, for he startled awake to the sound of a coyote yapping. They always sounded so close. He lay motionless, straining to hear what other sound had disturbed him. The grass rustled nearby. Snuffling indicated something there. A coyote? Or a bigger, more dangerous animal? Easing to his knees as quietly as possible, he found a chunk of wood and tossed it onto the coals. Sparks sprayed out, and flames erupted.

He looked across the fire into glowing amber eyes. A furry white tail shot upward, a broad white streak visible down the small animal’s back.

Cecil chuckled. A skunk. Not that they weren’t dangerous in their own way.

“Go away,” he muttered and waited for the animal to decide what it would do. If it stomped its feet and turned its back to Cecil?—

Well, Cecil eased to his feet, ready to escape.

The skunk sniffed and marched away, as regal as any king.

Cecil sank to the ground, soft laughter escaping his lungs. Wait until he told Louise about their night visitor.

“Cecil?” Her whisper barely disturbed the silence.

“I didn’t mean to waken you.”

“Was it a coyote?”

His answer began with a chuckle. “A saucy skunk.”

“Oh.” Her bedding rustled. The canvas walls shifted. “I hope you didn’t get sprayed.”

“No, he wandered off with a sniff of disinterest.”

“Good. Well then, I’ll say good night again.”

“Good night to you.”

A coyote sang in the distance.

“Cecil?”

“Yes?” Was she as reluctant to say a final good night as he? Though he couldn’t say why he felt that way. Only that it was lonely out here with just a skunk and coyotes for company. He swatted away a bug crawling on his neck. And insects. But who wanted insects?

“I’m glad you aren’t going to smell like skunk tomorrow.”

Did he detect humor? He snorted. “I guess I wouldn’t be good company, then.”

He waited for her to respond, but the pause lengthened until he decided she didn’t intend to say anything more. He was about to shift his position when her voice came again.

“I’m glad it didn’t happen.”

“Me too.” He put another log on the fire, shifted to his side, facing toward her tent, and waited. But sleep claimed him.

He woke in the pale gray light and lay there recalling everything that happened during the night.

Had she said something just before he fell asleep? Something that had made him smile? The happy feeling still clung to him, but he couldn’t for the life of him remember what she’d said. Something about the skunk? Or was it about him? Them?

Or had he imagined it?