small and fetching as in the old years. She always wore the new dress, of boughten goods, that Ma dressed her in on her sixth birthday, and had her pigtails tied with the red ribbon Rebecca had given her.
The camping places of last night and the night before somehow went with home. The wagon train hadn't much more than pulled out than the spot they'd stayed at joined with the old thoughts, something known that wouldn't be known again, so that a body felt lost and a little homesick, wanting the time back again, the friendly fire, the still evening, the sound of the water, the easy talk. Nothing ahead of them was known; none of it was warmed by memories.
Rebecca said "Haw" to the oxen and pulled her old coat closer about her neck. She was walking at the side of the wagon, being so tired and sore she didn't want to ride. If a person had flesh on her, she got stitches and aches from the jolting, and spots on the flesh sore to the touch.
Ahead of her Lije turned and smiled and turned back again to his team, tucking his chin into the breeze that made a mourning sound along the canvas of the wagons. Rock moved along behind him. That was the way with that dog. Most of the time he followed Lije or Brownie as if on a lead rope.
Rebecca tried to push the backward thoughts from her mind. Her man and her boy were happy, and that was enough. A happy family was all a person could ask for. It wasn't in the right nature of things for her to allow herself the miseries when she had that much.
Everything was going as well as a body could hope. They were making fair time, even Dick Summers said, and they hadn't had any trouble to speak of. Just the stampede was all, and the Indian Mack had shot for some reason and, later on, the Kaws that came to call about the shooting and had got shooed off by Tadlock. The men had found the cattle, all but one. Dick didn't lay the stampede to Indians, except that maybe the critters were spooky from the smell of them there along the Kaw. A green animal, he said, always scared at Indian scent.
Rebecca drove the second wagon mostly, though Brownie spelled her sometimes, and sometimes where the way was open the oxen could be trusted to follow along, trailed by Summers' pack horses tied behind. Riding or walking, she kept her eye out for Lije and Brownie, and for Dick Summers, too, though he was mostly out of sight, scouting for Indians or deciding the way or hunting. He kept the pot full. At first, close to the settlemerits, he had come in with ducks and snipe and pigeons,
hut now he hunted bigger game. Last night he brought back two turkeys and a strange thing that he called a wild goat but others said was an antelope. He kept the pots full, their pot and Brother Weatherby's, too. She reckoned it was a long time since Brother Weatherby had fed so well. There was power in the sermon he preached against traveling on the Sabbath Day -but they traveled just the same.
Dick was a good man, and her Lije was, too, as people were coming to know. Lije was strong in his body and good in his nlind, but it was his spirit that was best of all, being calm and kind and not set up.
She would see him, ahead with the heavy wagon and its double yoke, and him likely walking and popping his whip now and then. Or the train would have to stop, and he would go to the head of it and help others across a wash or up a bank, his clothes muddy or dusty afterwards and damp with sweat. He didn't talk too much, and never loud and bossy like Tadlock, but he did his share and more of the work.
Most of the time Brownie was back with the cows. She saw him sometimes when the train was climbing a rise and waved at him, and he would give just a little wave back, being a boy yet and bashful about showing his feelings. For all that he was only a boy, he was doing a man's work. He didn't need to be back with the stock so much, not with just the fifteen head that Lije was bringing along; but he had hired out
The camping places of last night and the night before somehow went with home. The wagon train hadn't much more than pulled out than the spot they'd stayed at joined with the old thoughts, something known that wouldn't be known again, so that a body felt lost and a little homesick, wanting the time back again, the friendly fire, the still evening, the sound of the water, the easy talk. Nothing ahead of them was known; none of it was warmed by memories.
Rebecca said "Haw" to the oxen and pulled her old coat closer about her neck. She was walking at the side of the wagon, being so tired and sore she didn't want to ride. If a person had flesh on her, she got stitches and aches from the jolting, and spots on the flesh sore to the touch.
Ahead of her Lije turned and smiled and turned back again to his team, tucking his chin into the breeze that made a mourning sound along the canvas of the wagons. Rock moved along behind him. That was the way with that dog. Most of the time he followed Lije or Brownie as if on a lead rope.
Rebecca tried to push the backward thoughts from her mind. Her man and her boy were happy, and that was enough. A happy family was all a person could ask for. It wasn't in the right nature of things for her to allow herself the miseries when she had that much.
Everything was going as well as a body could hope. They were making fair time, even Dick Summers said, and they hadn't had any trouble to speak of. Just the stampede was all, and the Indian Mack had shot for some reason and, later on, the Kaws that came to call about the shooting and had got shooed off by Tadlock. The men had found the cattle, all but one. Dick didn't lay the stampede to Indians, except that maybe the critters were spooky from the smell of them there along the Kaw. A green animal, he said, always scared at Indian scent.
Rebecca drove the second wagon mostly, though Brownie spelled her sometimes, and sometimes where the way was open the oxen could be trusted to follow along, trailed by Summers' pack horses tied behind. Riding or walking, she kept her eye out for Lije and Brownie, and for Dick Summers, too, though he was mostly out of sight, scouting for Indians or deciding the way or hunting. He kept the pot full. At first, close to the settlemerits, he had come in with ducks and snipe and pigeons,
hut now he hunted bigger game. Last night he brought back two turkeys and a strange thing that he called a wild goat but others said was an antelope. He kept the pots full, their pot and Brother Weatherby's, too. She reckoned it was a long time since Brother Weatherby had fed so well. There was power in the sermon he preached against traveling on the Sabbath Day -but they traveled just the same.
Dick was a good man, and her Lije was, too, as people were coming to know. Lije was strong in his body and good in his nlind, but it was his spirit that was best of all, being calm and kind and not set up.
She would see him, ahead with the heavy wagon and its double yoke, and him likely walking and popping his whip now and then. Or the train would have to stop, and he would go to the head of it and help others across a wash or up a bank, his clothes muddy or dusty afterwards and damp with sweat. He didn't talk too much, and never loud and bossy like Tadlock, but he did his share and more of the work.
Most of the time Brownie was back with the cows. She saw him sometimes when the train was climbing a rise and waved at him, and he would give just a little wave back, being a boy yet and bashful about showing his feelings. For all that he was only a boy, he was doing a man's work. He didn't need to be back with the stock so much, not with just the fifteen head that Lije was bringing along; but he had hired out
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