Page 39 of Mail-Order Bride Runaway
She took a small portion and ate it. “It’s tasty.”
He realized he’d eaten his forkful without noticing. Probably because his entire being was focused on not thinking about the way her expression grew serious, the curve of her cheeks, the brightness of her eyes. The way her lips moved. He jammed salmon into his mouth and concentrated on that and nothing else.
“It is good,” he murmured, although he ate the rest of his share without tasting it. He handed her two biscuits and took the same for himself. There were no biscuits left.
“You have my second one.” She held it toward him.
“I wouldn’t want you to be hungry.”
“I won’t be. I promise.”
It sounded like a promise she couldn’t keep. Nevertheless, he took the offering, careful not to touch her in doing so. Hunger seemed the least of his concerns at the moment. Far more demanding was his attempt to remember their marriage was pretend… temporary. There existed no place for wanting to feel her fingers in his or wondering if another kiss would be as filled with warmth and possibility as the first. He’d promised to get her to safety and then arrange an annulment. And he was a man of his word.
They drank from the stream and refilled the canteens. He hitched up the patient horses. That done, he checked the campsite and looked in the wagon to make sure everything was put away properly. Della began to pull herself to the seat. He sprang forward, almost tripping on a clump of grass in his hurry, and took her hand to help her.
She smiled down at him. “Thank you, kind sir.”
Unable to get a word past the dryness of his mouth, he rubbed his palm up and down on his pant leg. What was wrong with him? Must be he was missing his coffee. That had to be it.
Relieved to have found a reason for his wayward thoughts, he sat beside her, and they returned to the trail. Could he hope to make it back to the ranch tonight? A man on horseback could do so but he was driving a wagon. And he didn’t intend to wear out the horses. Unless…
He searched the horizon looking for signs of fire… or a pursuer.
His gaze riveted the direction they had traveled.
Della jerked around. “What do you see?” She saw it too. Grayish-brown clouds in the distance, shifting in the wind. “Is it fire?”
“I don’t think so. I don’t see any flames.” It wasn’t the color of smoke. It was the color of—He flicked the horses into a gallop. “It’s a dust storm. I hope we can outrun it.”
Della clung to the seat, turning to watch the cloud behind them. The wagon rocked from side to side and bounced over bumps in the road.
“You ever been in a dust storm?” she shouted to be heard about the racket of the wagon and the wail of the wind.
“No, but I’ve been battered by strong winds. I’ve seen the damage they can do.” He kept to himself the time he’d seen a wagon overturned, resulting in both horses being injured. Thankfully, the passengers had been safe, and the horses recovered, but it could have been so much worse.
They raced around a curve in the road that took them between outcrops of rocks that would provide shelter and he pulled the horses to a halt.
“We’ll stay here until the worst passes over.” Remembering how the wind had overturned that other wagon, he jumped down and reached up for her. They wouldn’t wait where there was danger. “We’ll be out of the wind if we hide in the shelter of the rocks.”
She fell into his arms. He steadied her, and holding her close to his side, he hurried them into the leeward side of the boulders which were higher than his head.
The wind roared around them, tails of it catching at her skirt causing it to billow out like a narrow tent. Her hair tickled across his face. The horses had their backs to the storm and stood with heads bowed.
Della’s eyes were wide as she turned to look into his face. “This is amazing. Do you remember the Bible verse that says God walks upon the wings of the wind? I feel like we are getting a touch of His power.” She looked up at the cloud of dust passing over them and dropping bits of debris upon them. She wiped dirt from her eyes. “How long will it last?”
“I hope not long but we have no choice but to sit it out.” He pulled her to the ground beside him and they leaned against the cold rock.
“It brings to mind the verse about God being a shelter in the time of storm. I always pictured the storm being an ocean, but this is a storm on land. Amazing.”
What Andy found incredible was how Della looked upward, her expression dancing with enjoyment. “If you think this is exciting, you should be here when we have a snowstorm.”
Her wide-eyed, bright blue gaze came to him. “What’s it like?”
“Sometimes the wind howls like a trapped wild cat and snow batters the windows.” He thought of the noise it made. “The sound is like that wild cat is scratching to get in. Cold seeps through the walls. We have to stay inside until it’s over, but Pa would stare out the window although he couldn’t see anything but the driven snow. He worried about the cows.”
The enjoyment in her face faded and creases folded into her forehead. “What happens to them?”
“They’d put their backs to the wind and drift with it. Depending on how long the storm lasted, they could be miles and miles away. If they found shelter in trees or a draw, they would huddle there.”
