Page 35 of Mail-Order Bride Runaway
“Andy? Is that you?”
He stepped forward. “Sorry to intrude, but I was worried when you were gone so long.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to trouble you.” Her smile beckoned him. “Can you see the colors of the sunset dancing in the water?”
He joined her, standing close enough to see what she saw. At least that was his excuse for wanting to be touching his shoulder to hers. “I can.”
“It’s beautiful. Reminds me that God is in every part of His creation. As it says in Psalm nineteen, ‘The heavens declare the glory of God.’ I had to take time to thank Him for such beauty.”
The ripple of pink, orange, and plum in the water was mesmerizing. It was a very long time since he’d felt such awe at the splendor before him. “I regret to say that I see wonderful things all the time. It’s a large part of Montana’s appeal. But I have forgotten to thank God for providing it.” He caught her hand. “Thank you for the reminder.”
Her face reflected the pink of the sunset and the joy of the moment. “I believe it’s God you should be thanking.”
He bowed his head and closed his eyes. Before he could offer his thanks to God, Della caught his hand and squeezed. He pulled her close and whispered his prayer aloud.
“God, thank you for the beauty of nature, for the ability to see it and enjoy it, and for someone to share it with. Amen.”
He opened his eyes and looked into the blue depths of hers. She didn’t speak and neither did he, but their look communicated something that dripped sweetness into his very being.
“It is nice to share this moment,” she murmured.
“Yes, it is.” It was tempting to linger there but the sky was darkening, and they had to make camp. “Are you hungry?” It was a rhetorical question and together they hurried back to the wagon.
“I’m reluctant to start a fire. Do you mind cold beans?” He would have replenished his supplies at Dundare, but Mr. Hartman had put a stop to that plan. “I also have canned peaches.” He chuckled softly. “I never go anywhere without a good supply of them.” He poked around in the food box and pulled out a tin of salmon, something that had only recently been offered at the store. He understood it was processed on the west coast of Canada. “I’d forgotten I tossed this in. We can have it for breakfast.”
“I hope I’m not going to be responsible for you being short of food.”
“We’ll be fine.” He opened a can of beans and handed it to her along with a biscuit. He opened a second can for himself. “Sure going to miss my coffee tomorrow.”
She grinned. “You could build a fire right next to the water.”
He studied the situation. “I might.”
They sat side by side to eat, watching the last of the color leave the sky and fade from the water. A portion of the day’s heat of the day drifted away. “It will be comfortably cool tonight.” Yet he didn’t move toward bedding down.
Not until she yawned.
He scrambled to his feet. “You sleep in the wagon again.” He handed her a blanket and waited for her to get in the back.
“Don’t go too far away.” He didn’t miss the thinning of her voice and understood she felt vulnerable. Not only from being out in the open but from the knowledge that Mr. Hartman wouldn’t likely give her up readily.
“I’ll sleep under the wagon.” He took the rifle with him… just in case. The ground was warm, and he settled down, ready to fall asleep. Except above him, the wagon creaked as she moved about. He stared at the dark shape above him. It creaked again. Dust filtered down on him.
“Della, what’s wrong?” he called.
“Sorry. I’ll go to sleep now.”
He closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath, letting his body shape to the ground.
Above him, the wagon squawked.
“Sorry,” she called.
Then all was still. He waited, expecting her to move again.
“Andy! Andy!” Her harsh whisper jerked him from his sleep.
He sat up suddenly, banging his head on the wagon. On his hands and knees, dragging the gun with him and being careful not to hit his head again, he crawled from under the wagon.
