Page 8 of Wagon Train Melody
Rudy caught her.
She twisted to free herself and stood, breathing hard, her hair mussed.
Meanwhile, Bo continued to struggle.
“Try singing to him again.”
She smoothed her hair and sang. Bo stopped thrashing about. She climbed in beside him and eased him to his back. She sang for a few minutes. As soon as she stopped, Bo grew restless. She resumed singing but glanced toward the front where two little girls watched, and two horses stood motionless.
“You stay here,” Rudy suggested. “I’ll drive. Shout out if he gets too restless.”
“I don’t—you don’t—” But Bo fussed so she resumed singing without voicing the protest he knew she meant to give.
He tied King to the wagon and climbed to the seat. As he took the reins, he glanced down the trail.
A twist of dust appeared in the distance.
Was it a dust devil? Or a rider?
Alice followedthe direction of his gaze and thought she saw dust in the distance. Too small to be a bull train. It might only be the wind stirring up sand, but it had caught Rudy’s attention. He was definitely a man on the run. With someone chasing him. She would refuse his help but if she did, she might never reach the fort where she meant to make a home with Clint.
She sang as the wagon rolled onward.
“Where are we going?” Rudy called over his shoulder.
“To Unca Clint,” Kitty answered.
“Uh-huh. And where does Uncle Clint live?”
“Auntie, where he live?” Kitty called.
Alice tried to think how much she should say. But if she didn’t tell the man where they were going, he wouldn’t know what direction to take.
“We’re heading toward Fort Macleod.” That answer wasn’t precise. Toward the town. Nottothe town. He didn’t need to know that.
“You’re a little off course, aren’t you?”
Bo rolled his head back and forth and she resumed singing, making it impossible to answer Rudy’s question.
The wagon climbed the hill that had provided a degree of protection from any passerby. She understood she needed to find the Whoop-Up Trail but didn’t look forward to the travelers she might encounter.
Bo had quieted. She was grateful for that but wished it didn’t mean he was again unresponsive. She eased forward. “I was told to head west until I hit the Whoop-Up Trail. Apparently, it’s impossible to miss. Then I need to drop south a bit to where the trail branches into three and take the most westerly one which will take me to Fort Macleod.” The information she’d been given made her think she should arrive at her destination in a week. She hoped Rudy would verify that her information was correct.
“I’d avoid the trail if I was you. Lots of rough men traveling it. Large bull trains.”
She digested this information. She’d already considered that. And her alternatives. “I’ve no desire to wander around lost.” Even with Bo alert and in his right mind, she’d been aware of how vulnerable they were. Yes, she had her rifle and would use it if necessary. Not that she had ever had call to do so. But even so, it was little enough protection if she was confronted with a bunch of rowdies. On the other hand, avoiding the trail meant she traveled through unfamiliar territory with no roads or signposts. All she had was her sense of direction. It would be easy to get lost.
She was almost glad for Rudy’s presence even though she didn’t know what side of the law he was on. She’d be alert for anything he might do.
Bo mumbled and she resumed singing.
He quieted after a bit, and she looked out the front. She tried to get her bearings from the sun. They seemed to be going west still.
“Do you have any idea how far we are from the trail?” she asked.
“We won’t reach it tonight.”
She jerked forward and peered out over Sissy’s head. “I expected to get there this afternoon. According to what I was told.”
