Page 5 of Wagon Train Redemption
“One would hope so.” She showed more interest in Bertie’s play than in his words.
Why did that bother him? Except…couldn’t she look at him and see he was no longer the brash young man she remembered? Even if she’d had reason.
“It must have been—” He meant to say something about losing her parents and acknowledge how difficult her move must have been. But a yell from Bertie interrupted.
“I find arrow.” He held an object over his head. “See.”
Carson jumped to his feet. Angela stood seconds afterhim. She looked around. “Indians?” she whispered, her eyes wide.
Blue-green eyes like some kind of precious stone he couldn’t remember the name of. He’d never noticed that before.
Her gaze went past him, swept the area. Her breath came and went in short jerks.
Out of caution, he, too, took in their surroundings even as he murmured words of assurance. “I rather doubt it. Besides, they now use guns, but I’ll have a look.”
She scurried after him as he climbed the hill to where Bertie examined the ground for more treasures.
“Look, Carson.” Bertie shoved the arrowhead toward Carson. “I keep it?”
“It’s yours.” The ground was scuffed almost bare. A prickle when up Carson’s spine. If this spot had been used a few years ago, shouldn’t the grass have grown back? He dragged his boot heel along the soil, moving aside the dirt. Rock underneath. That and the lack of recent rains could explain the shortage of grass. “No one has been here in years.” Did his voice sound more certain than he felt?
“We should get back to the camp.” Angela’s words were thin as if squeezed from a tight throat. “Bertie, time to go.”
“Alice, Limpy, come.” Bertie patted his leg, and both the goat and dog loped at his side as Angela hustled them toward the wagons. Carson fell in step with her.
Nervousness and fear came off her like dust wafting up from each of their steps.
“Angela, the Natives are peaceful and on reservations.” Though it had entered his mind that they might not enjoy the limitations of the treaties.
“I haven’t forgotten the uprising of 1885. Your parents were so concerned about you.” The look she tossed him was full of accusations as if to suggest he should have donesomething besides join the force and prepare to defend his country.
“I was never in any danger.” Though they only knew that in hindsight. He didn’t intend to tell her how frightened everyone was. Nor how the pioneers and ranchers had formed militia groups should the conflict reach them. It hadn’t. “Besides, I felt called to serve and protect.” Would she acknowledge that as a noble motivation?
“Hmm.”
The sound told him nothing. Perhaps he was better off not knowing what she thought of him. Besides, he’d have plenty of time on the way to the fort to prove he wasn’t the rash young man he’d been back then. After all, he’d only been seventeen going on eighteen. Overly impressed with his status as an adult with plans to become a Mountie and head west.
“How old are you?” The question came without forethought.
“Pardon?”
“I’m sorry. I know it’s none of my business.” Besides, he could ask one of his sisters. “I was merely wondering how old you were when you joined the family.”
Her blue-green eyes narrowed and flashed. “I was almost fourteen.”
“Ahh.” That made her almost eighteen now. “You’re about the same age now as I was when you came.” Their footsteps ceased moving, and she studied him. He tightened his muscles and tried not to squirm under her examination.
She shifted her gaze past him, allowing him to draw in a deep breath. “I suppose that’s true.” Her gaze returned, intense and burning. “I hope I am kinder.”
“Angela, I’m sorry. Can you let it be in the past? I’ve changed. I swear.”
Turning to watch Bertie and his pets, she breathed in so long, he worried something was wrong. He was about to pather back to get her to let the air out when it whooshed from her lips.
“I’ll try.”
“Thank you.” His relief was measured. But he had the trip to prove himself.
Limpy growled, jerking Carson’s attention that direction. The dog’s ruff stood on end.
