Page 18 of Her Gentle Protector
His dusty hat obscured his face, but Midge could make out his tall frame on the front of the wagon. Relief flooded her body, and she pushed past Marmee, bolting towards the arriving buckboard.
“Your ma just told me that the town has scarlatina,” she said, running up to the side of the wagon. “But you’re all right?”
Baxter’s calloused hands tugged at the leather reins, slowly bringing Daisy to a stop. He looked down at her, his gentle eyes locking with hers as a lazy grin spread across his face. “Were you worried about me?” he asked, a hint of mischief in his voice.
“Only in the sense that I didn’t want you to die before I paid you back for the chicken.”
Baxter let out a deep rumble that seemed to start in his belly before echoing through the small clearing. His eyes squeezed shut and head thrown back in laughter, as he thumped his hand against his thigh. When he was done, he reached his hand down. “Get on up here,” he demanded.
Midge only hesitated a moment before she placed her small hand in his large one. With a gentle tug, she felt herself floating through the air until she landed on his lap. Scrambling, she moved to the seat beside him and looked at the back of the wagon. Her eyes opened wide as she spied burlap sacks stacked high, overflowing with fresh produce. There were crates filled with canned goods and several large bags of flour, sugar, and salt, along with a few cans of preserved fruits and vegetables.
“You brought us food?” Midge asked, her voice filled with amazement. “And pillows?” she looked at the bedding on one side.
“The supplies are from Ma and Marmee. All of this is from Marmee’s garden. It isn’t much, but hopefully they can get the fever under control, and we can get back to town.”
“We?”
“Well, see that pillow and bedroll?”
“Uh-huh.”
“I’m going to stay in the barn,” he said. “I can’t go into my house since Sawyer is there; and you need the help.”
Her spine stiffened as she processed his words, and she nodded slowly, not wanting to put any more strain on her emotions. He slapped Daisy lightly with the reins and continued towards the house.
“Baxter! Baxter!” Midge turned to see Petunia running towards the wagon. She held up two plump birds in her hand and waved with her slingshot.
“I hope those aren’t chickens,” Baxter rumbled.
“Merciful heavens. What is that child wearing?” Marmee said.
“My guess would be buckskins and a raccoon,” Baxter offered, stopping next to the porch.
Petunia ran up and leaned against Marmee’s buggy, slapping two plump quail on the plush leather seat. “Whoo-whee-bob. I didn’t think I was gonna get them. They shore are fast critters. But look,” she lifted the bird once more. “I got two of them! We are gonna feast tonight, ain’t we, Midge?”
Midge wanted to disappear under the buckboard bench. “Why don’t you take those over to the trough, Pet.” Glancing at Ma and Marmee, she rubbed her hands. “Or closer to the well and you can clean them.”
Petunia picked up the birds and brushed the dirt and feathers from the seat. “Will you show me that trick you used to skin that chicken, Baxter?”
“In a bit, Petunia.”
“Petunia?” Marmee walked over and cupped the young girl by the chin, turning her face left then right as she examined her. “I can’t believe this is a young lady.”
Petunia pulled back her face. “I ain’t no lady.”
“That I can believe.” Marmee couldn’t help but frown when her eyes met Petunia’s wild and fluffy raccoon hat, complete with two playful button eyes and a dry pinecone piece for a nose. “What is that?”
“I found it, and you can’t have it.” Petunia crossed her arms and stomped off towards the well.
Marmee turned and looked at Midge. “I have no desire to take that hat from her. It needs to be burned, and she needs a bath. Are all the children like that?”
“Like what? Dressed in buckskin?” Midge’s face flushed with anger, her fists tightening in frustration as Marmee stormed into the house, her arms crossed, and eyebrows furrowed. She asked questions of the children, but her stern demeanor intimidated them into silence.
Sensing their unease, Midge stepped in front of them and snapped, “Leave us alone!”
“Verna,” Marmee called, ignoring Midge. “Come in here.”
Ma Hartman walked inside the small house, stopping short as her eyes scanned the room. The two women exchanged worried glances as they surveyed the small room, taking in the ragtag band of siblings huddled together, their faces dirty and tired. The air was thick with tension, and Midge’s heart raced at the thought of what she and her family were up against.
