Page 62 of Wagon Train Redemption
The dog whined but submitted and licked Carson’s hand as if to share his regret.
“Have you eaten?” Angela asked when Carson stepped away from the dog.
“No.”
“Let me get you some food.” Guessing he’d had little to eat since he rode out, she put out generous amounts of beans, sliced roast venison, dill pickles, and biscuits. She would have given him coffee, but without a fire, there wasn’t any, so she filled a cup with cold water taken from the nearby stream.
“Thank you.”
The noon break was almost over, but she lingered at his side. “Are you going to tell how you ended up with a dog?”
“It’s not a story for little boys to hear.” He ate eagerly but tossed some to the dog. “I’ll tell the men what happened.”
She nodded, disappointed he wasn’t prepared to share the information with her.
“Let’s walk together this afternoon so I can tell you.”
Every whiff of annoyance disappeared. “I’d like that.” She put his empty plate with the others. But when she turned to help Ruby with the oxen, they were already hitched to the wagon, and the wheels began to turn.
She waited as each wagon passed. Not until the last one was several yards down the trail did Bertie put Limpy to theground. Thankfully, the little mutt decided to ignore the bigger dog and trotted after the wagons.
“Everyone should be comfortable with him now.” Carson untied the dog, then noticed the way Angela backed away. “Angie, he won’t hurt you. I promise.”
“Where did you get him?” She walked a distance from the pair though the dog followed placidly at Carson’s side.
“He was with his dead master.” Carson told of finding the wanted man. “The dog was very protective and unfriendly, but I woke this morning with his chin on my leg. What was I supposed to do with him?”
“I suppose you didn’t have a choice. What are you going to call him?”
“So far, I’ve just called him Dog.”
Laughter slipped up her chest. “That’s like calling you Man.”
“He doesn’t seem to mind. Do you, Dog?” The animal perked up his ears at Carson’s voice.
“Still, if you’re going to keep him, he should have a name.”
Carson stopped and faced her. “Don’t you mean ifwe’regoing to keep him, Partner?”
“Does that mean I get a say?”
“Of course. If you don’t want him, I’ll leave him at the first farm we come to.” He might have tried to keep his tone neutral, but longing added a husky quality. He wanted the dog.
All the while they’d talked, the animal watched and listened, turning from one to the other as if following the conversation, which, of course, was foolish to think.
“How about if I introduce you?” He looked down at the dog. “Dog, this is my friend, my partner, and soon to be my wife, Angie. Say hello.”
Angela gasped when the dog sat on its haunches and lifted a paw to her. “Is it safe?” She couldn’t take her focus offthe dog partly out of fear and partly out of surprise, and the latter seemed to swallow up the first. She didn’t wait for Carson’s reply but reached for the dog’s paw and shook. “Pleased to meet you, but I’m not going to call you Dog.” She tipped her head to study the animal.
“How about Duke?” Carson asked.
“Too regal. Shep?”
“Sounds like a sheepdog.”
“Mouse,” she offered tentatively, earning Carson’s boisterous laughter. She was almost certain the dog smiled too.
“I’d sooner call him Bear.”
