Trail Angel by Derek Catron Page B

it.”
    Luke Swift, Rutledge’s brother-in-law, and the others agreed. Josey left them to work out the details of unhitching the teams and moving them to a fresh grazing area.
    By the time he returned, he found Rutledge’s wife, Mary, and Annabelle with Byron and the Colonel. Seeing mother and daughter working together, Josey realized how much they favored each other, Mrs. Rutledge’s touch of gray doing nothing to diminish the strength of her features. They would need strength, given their patient’s mulish disposition. Now awake, the Colonel looked more grumpy than frail.
    â€œI brought tea,” Mrs. Rutledge announced, leaving no doubt who was now in charge of the Colonel’s care. “I gave him a honey and vinegar mix for the cough. We need to get liquids in him—and I don’t mean spirits,” she added, glancing to the Colonel.
    â€œHe won’t drink any more water,” Byron said.
    â€œI would rather die from fever than from you drowning me.” The Colonel cursed in a hoarse whisper until Mrs. Rutledge silenced him with a cup of tea. Josey took the old man’s fractiousness as a good sign. Had he been suffering cholera, the Colonel would have been a more docile patient.

C HAPTER T WENTY -O NE
    When Annabelle returned that afternoon with more tea, she found the Colonel and Byron dozing beneath their makeshift tents while Josey Angel and her mother sat together beneath a canvas tarp he had rigged for shade and a windscreen.
    The sight of Josey Angel speaking to her mother like they were kin stopped her. The windscreen blocked their view of Annabelle’s approach, yet she heard every word.
    â€œHe’s like a father to you,” her mother said. She watched Josey eat as if he were one of her boys. They would have been close in age. As loud and lively as her brothers had been, Annabelle didn’t see much of them in Josey Angel. They did have the war in common, and Annabelle would never know how it affected her brothers. She wondered if Josey had always been as he was now. Would his mother recognize him?
    Josey Angel said something between bites of biscuit. Feeling guilty for listening, Annabelle thought to call out, but then her mother asked about his parents.
    Annabelle crouched to her knees.
    â€œThey’re good people.” Josey bit into another biscuit.
    â€œWhen did you last see them?”
    â€œWhen I left for war.”
    â€œDid you part on bad terms?”
    â€œNo.”
    Her mother had a way of using silence to make a person say more than they intended. The trick had always worked better on the boys than it had on Annabelle. After a pause when it seemed Josey Angel would say no more, he added, “It’s been so long, I almost forget what she looks like.”
    I should bring the tea before it gets cold. Josey and her mother sat without speaking, and Annabelle lingered another moment, listening to the music created by the rush of the wind across the tarp and the flute-like call of an unseen meadowlark.
    As they returned to the wagons, Annabelle confessed her eavesdropping to her mother. They hadn’t stayed long, wanting to give Josey Angel opportunity for a nap while the Colonel slept. He spoke of his plans to lead the train the following day, and not even her mother could object to leaving the Colonel and Byron once he explained his reasoning.
    If she hadn’t heard it, Annabelle wouldn’t have believed how freely Josey Angel spoke with her mother. She remembered a stray cat that used to come around their house. Just children then, Annabelle and her brothers tried to feed the cat, but they were too boisterous to lure it close enough to be petted. The cat sensed danger even in their good intentions and maintained its distance.
    On a day when the boys were away, Annabelle spied her mother feeding scraps to the cat. Through a window, she watched her mother squat on the porch, a morsel of chicken pinched between her fingers.