by Linda Ford
“I guess he offered a type of security you didn’t find with your pa.”
“Oh, no. I agreed with my pa.” But Warren’s words made her consider the possibility. “You might be more right than I realize. Grandfather did represent the kind of home and belonging I longed for.” She sighed. “I guess Polly and I are a lot alike. Both of us wanting a settled home.”
Polly sat up. “Is that why you are going back to Santa Fe?”
It wasn’t the reason she’d thought, but perhaps it truly was why.
Polly stared down the trail, her eyes going far past the animals and wagons ahead of them. “So you’ll get the home you want and I won’t.” The disappointment and pain dripping from her words was as sincere as anyone could expect.
And they gave Mary Mae an idea. One she would discuss with Warren at the first opportunity.
All this talk about home caused Warren’s insides to flop about like a boneless bit of flesh. He’d long since given up the dream of home and family, but the feelings still made themselves known from time to time.
He couldn’t fulfill the dreams or wishes of either of his traveling companions any more than he could do so for himself. Best thing he could do was change the subject.
“I recall the time Judith broke her leg when she was seven. I blamed myself because I was supposed to be watching the wagon where she was.” Baby Dodi had been in the wagon, too, but he would leave that part of the story out for Polly’s sake. “She was thrown from the wagon and that’s how she broke her leg. I felt so bad, but my Pa said there were some things in life that no one was to blame for. That’s why they were called accidents. He suggested we do something to make the time go faster for Judith as she had to stay in bed until her leg healed. So me and Pa and Luke spent hours making her a dollhouse.”
“I remember that story,” Polly said. “Judith told us about it.”
“Why so she did. But that was her version. This is mine.”
Mary Mae laughed softly and nudged him in the side. “Go on. I’d like to hear your version.”
He resisted an urge to press his arm over Mary Mae’s and hold it to his side. Instead, he continued with his story. “I don’t know what made me happier. Spending all those hours working with Luke and Pa, or seeing how much Judith enjoyed it.”
Polly sat up so she could face Warren. “That means you love her.”
He looked to Mary Mae to see if she understood what the child meant. She shook her head slightly to indicate she didn’t.
“Of course I love her. She’s my sister. But how does seeing her play with the dollhouse prove it?”
“Judith said one thing about love is helping others. And you did that for her.”
Warren watched Polly closely as she first studied Mary Mae and then him with such intensity. He had no idea what was going on inside the little gal’s head, but chances are it somehow involved the both of them.
He released his breath slowly as she sat back. Maybe he had misjudged her. But he wasn’t entirely sure she wasn’t scheming something.
She seemed content to rest against Mary Mae’s shoulder for much of the afternoon, jumping down to walk only when the sun edged toward the west.
Buck soon called for them to stop and circle the wagons. The campsite was one they’d used before—a pleasant spot near the banks of the Arkansas River with plenty of bushes and trees to provide shelter.
Warren headed out with the mules, surprised that Polly followed him. Though perhaps he shouldn’t have been. She had often followed Sam as he did his chores.
Several times, she paused to pick a weed or head of grass and soon had quite a bundle.
Warren enjoyed seeing her skipping along as if enjoying the moment.
They tended the animals, went to check on Sam’s wagons and also Warren’s. When every detail was taken care of, they made their way back to the camp where the meal was ready. Just before they joined the others, Polly tugged at his arm to stop him.
“You should give this bouquet to Mary Mae.” She pushed the things she’d gathered to toward him.
He shoved his hands behind his back. “Why me? You give them to her.” He wasn’t so naïve as to not recognize an attempt to spark a romance between him and Mary Mae.
“Aren’t you grateful for her help?”
“Well, of course I am. What’s that got to do with it?”
“Wouldn’t you like to thank her?”
“Sure. I’ll say thank you.”
“Sometimes words aren’t enough. Sometimes you need to do something more. Here.” She waved the bundle of weeds toward him.
They could either stand here all evening arguing, or he could take the bouquet or whatever one might call it, give it to Mary Mae and enjoy a hot meal. He chose the latter.
“Fine. I’ll give it to her.”
“And be nice about it.”
That stalled him in his tracks. “What’s that supposed to mean? Aren’t I always nice?”
“Wouldn’t hurt to be a little nicer.”
He stared at the child. But could think of no response to words that made it sound like he needed to mend his ways. “Huh.” He hated to admit it, but a ten-year-old had outwitted him.
They reached the camp. He went to Mary Mae’s side and held the weeds toward her.
“Here’s a bouquet to say thank you for helping me today.”
She blinked. Looked at the offered bouquet and took it. “Thank you.” Her gaze went to Polly who smiled and nodded her approval.
“You’re welcome.” He sat down near the fire.
Polly went to Mary Mae. “Do you want me to find a jug and some water for your flowers?”
Mary Mae studied the bouquet. “I don’t think it needs water, but maybe I could stick it in something.”
“I have just the thing.” Polly raced back to the teamsters and spoke to Frenchie. He nodded and went to the back of a wagon and pulled out something. A tin can. He took out his knife and worked at removing the entire lid then handed it to Polly.
She ran back to Mary Mae’s side and held out the can. Mary Mae stuck in the weeds.
Polly smiled and admired the arrangement. “It looks nice, doesn’t it?”
“Very nice.”
Warren thought Mary Mae’s tone was as dry as the weeds in the can. Not that he could blame her. Did she guess the whole idea had been Polly’s? Or would she think he had decided to court her?
He must find a way to make sure she understood that wasn’t the case, but he could hardly blurt out he wasn’t interested in her.
He watched her move about, talking to the other women, pausing to give little Elena a kiss on the cheek, turning to listen to something Anna babbled. After a bit, he realized how long he’d been staring at her and how much he enjoyed it.
Perhaps he didn’t mean he wasn’t interested in her. He just wasn’t interested in marriage.
She already knew that, so he saw no reason to explain that the bouquet didn’t mean anything had changed.
Some perverse little thought wriggled forward in his mind. Would he ever reconsider his opinion?
6
Mary Mae’s gaze returned again and again to the tin can full of dry grass and weeds Warren had given her. She suspected Polly had picked the spray, but if Warren had, did it mean anything more than a gesture of gratitude?
She dismissed the pointless questions and helped with the meal. Everything was ready and Reverend Shepton asked the blessing, thanking God not only for the food, but for safety in their travels. She whispered, “Amen.” So many things could go wrong and some had. Every day without an accident or other untoward incident was a blessing not to be taken for granted. Yesterday had made that abundantly clear.
Polly appeared at her elbow, holding out a plate.
“You’re hungry?” Usually the child had to be called to the meal.
“Warren is. He’s had a hard day.”
Mary Mae filled the plate for him. “A hard day? How’s that?” She had seconds ago thanked God
for an uneventful day and he had shared the same day.
Polly tsked, the sound making Mary Mae smile. Sometimes Polly sounded more like an adult than a child. “His best friend died and now he has to take care of Uncle Sam’s wagons as well as his own. Isn’t that reason enough to treat him kindly?”
Mary Mae thought she had treated Warren kindly even before Sam died, but perhaps Polly worried that the extra work might be burdensome to Warren and he could grow to resent her. She could assure Polly that Warren wasn’t that sort.
Polly stepped back when Mary Mae handed the filled plate toward her. “You should take his food to him.”
“Me?”
“Yes, to show you understand about all he’s gone through.”
Mary Mae studied Polly a moment wondering what the child was up to. Polly’s brows drew together and she bit her bottom lip. Was she truly worried that Warren might be resentful of the extra work? Mary Mae made up her mind. If it made Polly feel better for Mary Mae to make this little gesture, she could see no reason to refuse and she carried the plate to Warren.
He looked up, surprise in his green eyes. He glanced around to see that he was the first one served. “Thanks.”
She didn’t blame him for being a little confused. “Just my way of expressing my gratitude.”
He seemed even more surprised by her murmured words. “For what?”
She realized she had echoed Polly’s thoughts and they didn’t make sense. All she could think to say was, “For the bouquet.” With her back to the fire, she could only hope he didn’t see the heat rushing into her cheeks.
He grinned and his eyes flashed. “Can’t imagine the gratitude I would be shown if I’d brought you flowers.”
Too embarrassed to answer, she fled back to the serving pots and filled a plate for herself then looked about for some place to sit except at Warren’s side. However, Polly was not about to allow that and tugged Mary Mae with her to that very spot.
She sat, feeling as if her knees were joints made of wood that creaked and protested. Only it wasn’t her limbs, it was her insides that felt awkward.
If anyone noticed the grass bouquet, the awkward moment of taking Warren a plate of food, or her own stiffness as she perched next to him, they didn’t mention it and she slowly relaxed.
They finished the meal and Mary Mae eagerly turned her attention toward cleaning up and preparing more food for the morrow. The men left to tend the animals. Polly played with Anna. It was the same routine they had followed since leaving Independence and yet it felt different.
She knew the moment Warren returned. Wait. What she meant was she knew the minute the men returned.
At the teamsters’ fire, Pete began with his mournful song.
As Polly ran toward the other group of travelers, the camp dog trotted out to greet her and she patted his head. She spoke to the harmonica player. Immediately, the mournful song gave way to a happy tune. Several of the teamsters danced a jig. Polly came back and stood in front of Warren. She took his hands and urged him to his feet.
“Swing me to the music.”
He twirled her around as she giggled. Then he held her hands and did a fair imitation of the jig.
Mary Mae joined the others in clapping and cheering them.
Then Polly reached for Mary Mae’s hands and pulled her to join them.
Mary Mae hesitated, but it was all light-hearted fun and they needed it so she took Warren’s hand and did her best to do the jig. It looked easy enough. Just bounce on her feet, kick out her heels and jump about. But her shoes tangled in her skirts and she almost stumbled.
Warren held her steady.
He stood still, holding her hand, waiting for her to shake free of the hem of her dress. She straightened and lifted her face to thank him. His smile lit his eyes.
She’d seen him smile hundreds of times. Had enjoyed sharing a joke or two with him. But this time was different. The warmth in his eyes caught her unawares. She stared at him feeling trapped by his gaze, unable to move.
“You swing her,” Polly said and backed away to leave the two alone.
Warren blinked. His smiling eyes darkened. His mouth drew into a straight line. “I need to sit this one out.” He led Mary Mae to the nearest seat. He went to Luke’s side and sat down.
Polly stood by the fire, looking from Warren to Mary Mae and back again. Her shoulders slumped and she moved away from them all and sank to the ground.
Mary Mae stifled a twinge of guilt, but she couldn’t fulfill Polly’s dreams. The child would have to accept that.
Elena had been nursing and finished. It gave Mary Mae an idea on how to end the awkwardness she felt. She went to Donna Grace’s side. “Let me take her. You and Luke go for a walk and enjoy a break.”
Donna Grace didn’t need a second invitation and handed over the baby. She and Luke stepped over the wagon tongues and went out into the waning light.
“We’re tired and going to turn in early,” Mrs. Shepton said, and she and the reverend went to their wagon.
Gil came in and sat by Judith.
Mary Mae knew they hadn’t had any time to themselves in several days. “I’ll watch Anna if you two want to go for a walk.”
They readily agreed and went in the opposite direction Luke and Donna Grace had gone.
Anna toddled after them. Mary Mae shifted the baby to one arm and hurried after Anna to bring her back. “Come and play with the baby.”
Anna readily followed her back and made happy noises at the contented baby.
“It’s nice to know little Anna will always have family.” Warren’s words drew her attention to him. She looked about. They were the only adults left. Why that should make her self-conscious made no sense. She blamed Polly for creating this discomfort.
Warren studied little Elena. “I wish I could offer Polly the same.”
This was the perfect time to present her idea and she sat where she could keep an eye on Anna as she talked to Warren. “Maybe there is a way you can give her the home she wants.”
His eyes narrowed to a squint. “I haven’t changed my mind about not getting married.”
She laughed at little at his misunderstanding. “There is another way.” She rushed on before he could try and guess what she meant. “You can let me keep her in Santa Fe with me. I’ll give her a home.”
He took his time assessing her offer and she let him, waiting patiently for his response.
“It’s very generous of you to offer, but I see several flaws in the plan.”
“Flaws? It’s the perfect solution.”
“Do you have a place to live there?” His voice suggested that he knew her answer.
“I can live in my grandfather’s hacienda.”
He shook his head. “I remember what you said about your grandfather. Polly will never be a lady, Spanish or otherwise. Besides, I venture to say that is not the sort of family Polly has in mind. But all that aside, I promised Sam I would look after her. And I intend to.” His gaze hardened. “This time I don’t intend to fail by neglect or by shifting my responsibilities to someone else.”
She knew he would not see the reasonableness of her offer at this moment and let it go.
Baby Elena blew bubbles, droplets of spit hitting Anna and making the little girl laugh.
It also served to draw Mary Mae’s attention away from Warren and she wiped Anna’s face.
Warren chuckled. “I remember Reggie doing that.” He jerked to his feet and strode a few yards away to stare into the night.
Mary Mae knew he struggled with the pain of having lost his son and wished she could offer some comfort. Before she could think what she might do, the others returned, each couple claiming a child and heading for their wagon to prepare the little ones for bed.
Polly appeared, too. “I’m tired. I want to go to bed.”
Mary Mae glanced to Warren to see if he found Polly’s announcement as surprising as she did. Had she ever before heard the child volunteer for bed? But perhaps the emo
tions of the last twenty-four hours had taken a toll.
“Do you want help?” Mary Mae asked. Polly was an independent child, but Mary Mae didn’t mind assisting if Polly wanted it.
“Yes, please.”
Mary Mae followed her into the wagon and and after Polly had removed her clothing, pulled the nightgown over her head, she sat cross-legged on the bedding. “I want Warren to tuck me in, too.”
Mary Mae could not miss the tears that were very close to the surface. “Of course. I’ll get him.”
Polly grabbed her hand. “Don’t leave me.”
Mary Mae sank back at the urgency in the little girl’s voice. “What is it?”
“I want to pretend.”
It took Mary Mae about two seconds to realize what the child meant. Pretend she had a family. Should she go along with it? But she could see no harm in granting the grieving child a bit of comfort and she went to the back of the wagon to call Warren.
He hurried toward them.
“She’d like you to tuck her in.”
“And say my prayers,” Polly called.
The look Warren gave Mary Mae was rife with caution and curiosity as he climbed in. They were crowded together in front of Polly.
“I’m scared,” she said.
Mary Mae had no doubt the child was being honest and her heart went out to her. “We’re here for you.”
“I know. But that’s what Uncle Sam said, too.”
Warren shifted so he could pull Polly to his knees. “I wish I could promise you only good things will happen in your life, but I can’t. I don’t have that kind of power.”
She nodded. “But can I pretend for a little while?”
“Pretend?”
Mary Mae waited. She would explain if Polly didn’t or couldn’t because of the sorrow twisting her face.
Polly managed to jerk out her words. “That I have a mama and papa to tuck me into bed.”
Warren sat back to look into Polly’s face, his expression guarded as if he didn’t want to encourage the direction Polly’s request would take him, but any argument he might have considered disappeared when he saw the silvery tears trailing down her cheeks. “I guess it won’t hurt if you remember it is only pretend.”
