by Linda Ford
“I will. I promise.” She swiped away her tears. “My mama and papa heard my prayers and then kissed me goodnight. Okay?”
Warren looked to Mary Mae, seeking her consent. Her throat was too tight to answer so she nodded.
Polly slipped off Warren’s knees and knelt between him and Mary Mae. She clasped her hands together and bowed her head. “Dear Jesus.” Her voice caught. She drew in a breath and continued. “I know You don’t always give us what we ask for. I wish You would, but at least I can pretend. Now I wouldn’t mind if You saw Your way clear to giving me a real mama and papa and a real home, though I’m not complaining about Warren and Mary Mae or this nice wagon. Help us all have a good sleep. Keep us safe. And please say hi to Uncle Sam and tell him I love him and miss him. Amen.”
Mary Mae would not swallow past the lump in her throat. Polly turned to her. “My mama always went next so it’s your turn.”
Mary Mae nodded and cleared her throat. “Our Father in Heaven.” She stopped. How did she pray for the needs of this child? She simply didn’t know and decided not to try. “Thank you for no rain today. Help us reach Bent’s Fort soon. Please help Polly have a good sleep. In Jesus’ name. Amen.”
Polly sniffled as she turned to Warren. “Papa always went last.”
Warren nodded, understanding her meaning. He bowed his head.
Mary Mae wondered if his throat had tightened as badly as hers. His voice was deep but steady as he prayed. “God in heaven, thank you for taking care of us and help us be content with our lot in life. Amen.”
Short and sweet, but she understood the subtle meaning of the words. Polly must learn to accept the facts of her life.
Polly scooted under the covers and held out her arms to both of them. Did she expect them both to lean in and kiss her goodnight? Warren must have had the same thought as he waved her forward. She bent and kissed Polly, stroking her forehead as she whispered, “I love you.” She backed away so Warren could kiss her too. Polly sighed.
“You can go now,” she said. “If I need you I’ll call.”
“If you call, I’ll come running,” Warren assured her, earning a giggle from the girl. He chuckled as he jumped from the wagon and held out his arms to help Mary Mae down.
They stood facing each other, listening to Polly shuffle about as she got comfortable.
Mary Mae stuffed back a yearning that threatened to drive her to tears. How long could she pretend with Polly and still keep her shattered dreams buried?
Warren’s insides coiled like an overwound watch. So many emotions raced through him… emotions that he did not welcome. What had he been thinking to give Mary Mae dried weeds as a gift? And yet it felt good. And now pretending to be papa to Polly. It both frightened him and pleased him.
He could not deal with all those bottled up questions and feelings. “Would you like to take a walk?” he asked Mary Mae.
“I would.”
Did she sound as confused as he felt?
He asked Judith to listen for Polly then crooked his arm for Mary Mae to take as he guided her over the wagon tongues and into the dusky evening. A sliver of gold lined the horizon, the last remnant of the sunset. The trees were shadowed. He led her to the open, to a little rise that allowed them to see their footing and he paused to suck in a deep breath.
His tangled thoughts began to unthread. “I’m not sure how I feel about pretending to be Polly’s papa.”
“You are her guardian.”
“True. And it’s like I’ve been given a second chance to prove I can take care of a child.” His insides clenched. “But what if I fail again?”
She patted his arm. “Warren, if you fail, it will be because of something beyond your control and then I would suggest you should listen to your own words.”
He could think of no words for the situation and said so.
“‘Help us accept our lot in life.’”
It was the prayed he’d uttered for Polly hoping she would understand she couldn’t have all she wanted. “I guess it does apply. But it’s far easier to say it than to live it.”
Her low chuckle reminded him of the song of a night bird. “Isn’t that true?”
“Do you think it’s okay to let her pretend family?”
“I don’t have any experience, but if it gets her through her loss and disappointment I can’t see how it will hurt.”
“I think the same.” He grinned, but knew she couldn’t see it in the dark, especially as she gazed to the west. “You know it was her who picked that bouquet of weeds.”
“I’m not surprised. Maybe it’s her way of making sure we both continue to work together in looking after her.”
“I expect that’s it. And if it makes her feel safe, I’m prepared to go along with her plans.” He laughed. “So don’t be surprised if I offer you a handful of weeds every night.”
“If it makes her happy, I don’t mind.”
He wondered what else Polly might come up with. More dancing at the fire? More putting her to bed together? He thought about the day’s events and found he didn’t mind. Like he’d said, it felt like he was being offered a chance to redeem the mistakes he’d made with Gina and Reggie.
They returned to the campsite. “Good night,” he murmured as he helped her into the wagon and then made his bed on the ground beneath.
He fell asleep with a smile upon his lips and wakened with a start at the sound of Polly crying.
Mary Mae murmured comfort and sang lullabies, but Polly continued to weep. She’d soon have the entire camp awake, but that didn’t matter to Warren as much as the way her misery tugged at his heart. He ached clear through at her sobs.
Warren left the warmth of his bedroll and went to the back of the wagon. “Can I do anything?”
Polly flung herself bodily at him. He staggered back and barely managed to get a grip on the child. “Okay. I guess you want me to hold you.”
She nodded, her sobs making speech impossible.
He carried her to the now-dead fire and sat down on the nearest stool. He made what he thought were comforting sounds, but they did little to calm the child.
Mary Mae joined them, draped in a much-too-large coat that must surely have been Sam’s. She wrapped a blanket about Polly, then added a piece of wood to the coals and soon a low fire provided meager heat. She sat beside him, and they talked softly about unimportant things, like the way the flames danced, the sound of an oxen lowing and the hoot of an owl. Yet in this moment, he felt something he had not felt in a long time—a sense of peace and oneness with a woman.
Polly had stopped crying to listen to them talk and soon her head sagged. She had fallen asleep, but he was reluctant to end the spell, even knowing they all needed their sleep. Their talk faded. They were both tired. “She’s asleep. I’ll carry her back to the wagon.”
Mary Mae hurried ahead of him and climbed into the back then reached out to help with Polly. The child wakened enough to stagger into bed.
He held his breath. He suspected Mary Mae did the same as they waited to see if Polly would settle or start to cry again. His lungs released when after a few minutes, she didn’t waken.
“Good night,” he whispered to Mary Mae.
“And to you.” She pulled the flaps closed and the creak of the wagon signaled her moving to her bed.
He returned to his bedroll and waited for the cold to leave his body.
With a start, he realized he smiled into the darkness. He tried to make himself stop but failed. He couldn’t deny that sitting before the low flames holding Polly with Mary Mae at his side had felt real good.
He pulled the covers up to his chin. Help us accept our lot in life. Had he forgotten his own words?
7
Mary Mae struggled the next morning to act the same toward Warren. They had shared too many special moments and her feelings had started to shift, though she was at a loss to explain what she meant. After a few minutes, she put it down to sympathy toward both Polly and Warren because of their
loss.
Buck ordered them to hurry the morning routine. “I don’t like this weather.”
Mary Mae glanced to the sky. Gray clouds hung low. An icy wind battered them. She shivered, imagining how miserable they would be if rain soaked them in this cold weather.
No one needed urging to finish breakfast and get on the way.
Polly sat on the bench between Mary Mae and Warren. She seemed subdued this morning. Poor child was likely tired after her broken sleep. Just before Warren moved the wagon into line, Polly jumped down.
“I’m going to walk. Walking is good for the soul.”
Mary Mae waited until they were in line and moving along the trail to comment. “Where does she learn such wise words?”
Warren chuckled. “From Sam. Do you recall how he would come out with little nuggets of truth when we least expected it?”
“I do.” She laughed only the sound ended unexpectedly on a sob.
Warren shifted to look at her. “What’s the matter?”
She wiped at her eyes, hoping she could hide her tears. “Nothing.”
He caught her hands and pulled them from her face. “You’re crying.”
“Not really.”
He held her hands in a firm grip. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
She sucked in air, willing away the sadness that had overwhelmed her. “I miss Sam.” She’d spent many days riding in his wagon, spending time with Polly, but also Sam.
Warren squeezed her hands. “Me too. He was a good man.”
Their gazes went to Polly, then reconnected.
“He loved that child as if she was his own.” Mary Mae didn’t bother trying to hide the tremble in her voice. “He told me how his brother and wife died of pneumonia a year or so ago.”
Warren’s smile was crooked. “He was always so glad he was with them and able to take Polly. He and Polly adored each other.”
He still held her hand and she made no effort to pull away, finding comfort and strength in their shared loss.
Again, they watched Polly. She’d been skipping along, her head high, but her steps began to lag and her head hung down. “She’s tired,” Mary Mae said. “Polly, come get in the wagon.”
Polly’s head jerked up. She looked from Mary Mae to Warren and shook her head. “I shouldn’t always be in your way.”
“Stop the wagon,” Mary Mae said. But Warren had already pulled out of line and stopped. He jumped down and reached up to help Mary Mae, and together they went to Polly.
Warren took the child in his arms, much as they’d both seen Sam do over and over. “Little gal, you will never be in our way.”
Mary Mae patted Polly’s back. “Never.”
“But you can’t talk when I’m around.”
Mary Mae gave a shout of laughter. “We talk all the time.” Not quite true, but they had nothing to say to each other that couldn’t be said in front of the child.
“But not that kind of talk.”
Warren and Mary Mae looked at each other. He was obviously confused by Polly’s words as she was.
“What kind of talk do you mean?” Warren asked.
“Like what Donna Grace said.”
Warren looked completely baffled. Mary Mae was as well until she recalled the conversation Donna Grace had relayed about how she and Luke had fallen in love. How was she to explain it to Warren?
“You’re too tired to walk,” she said, instead of dealing with the subject. “Ride for a while.”
Warren carried Polly to the back of the wagon and lifted her into the back. They returned to the seat and resumed their journey.
“Do you know what she meant?” he asked.
“I might.” She looked in the back. Polly was curled up, sound asleep. She faced forward again. “Donna Grace told me Polly had asked about how they fell in love. One of the things Donna Grace said was talking together.”
“You mean she’s still matchmaking?”
He needn’t look so appalled at the idea. It wasn’t like she wanted marriage any more than she did.
They drove on a couple minutes. “One of the things.” He groaned. “What else did your sister say?”
“I’m trying to remember exactly. I think she said they shared responsibility, took care of each other, and wanted the best for the other person.”
“Sounds nice. And I see that’s where I failed with Gina and Reggie. I put my needs ahead of theirs.”
He sank forward over his knees.
Mary Mae longed for a way to comfort and encourage him, but could think of none.
He sat up straight and gave her a startled look. “Is that what the handful of weeds was all about? Me supposedly showing my care of you?”
Mary Mae grinned. “I expect it was.”
His smile widened and he laughed. “Not exactly courting goods, is it?
“We do the best we can under the circumstances.”
They settled into the rhythm of the moving wagon, but several times Warren chuckled and met Mary Mae’s gaze.
She told herself it was only amusement at Polly’s attempt at matchmaking, but nevertheless, it felt good to share this private little joke.
Maybe she should add to Donna Grace’s list: laughing together.
What was she thinking? It wasn’t as if she looked for ways to fall in love.
Warren chuckled over and over. He just couldn’t help himself. It was so cute to think Polly meant for him to woo Mary Mae with a spray of weeds. If he meant to woo the woman he would pick something more appropriate, like say, flowers. No. Flowers were too ordinary. He thought of the little pebble he’d given her in exchange for her thoughts and how she’d commented something to the affect that her thoughts were worth more than that. Indeed they were. A pretty, shiny, jewelled rock would be more appropriate. Maybe even a nugget of gold.
But the man she had hoped to marry had gone in search of gold, so that wasn’t a good idea. In fact, why was he even thinking along those lines? He wasn’t interested in courting Mary Mae, despite Polly’s wishes and plans.
Polly wakened and joined them, leaning an arm of each of their shoulders. “Where are we?”
Mary Mae laughed. “Somewhere between Independence and Bent’s Fort.”
Polly tsked. “That tells me nothing.”
Warren slanted a glance at Mary Mae enjoying the sparkle of enjoyment in her eyes. He knew she got as much pleasure from this child as did he. No wonder she wanted him to let Polly live with her in Santa Fe. She would take good care of the little gal, but he couldn’t pretend he didn’t have a responsibility and shift it off to someone else. Besides, he enjoyed Polly’s company.
“I expect we will reach Chouteau Island by tonight.”
“Then we are almost to Bent’s Fort.” Polly seemed upset at the thought.
He looked at her. “Why should that disappoint you?”
She leaned over the seat. “’Course I’m not disappointed. It’s just I got so many things to do.”
Warren turned to stare at the gal. Mary Mae did too, and then they looked at each other. He could see she was as puzzled as he.
“What, if I may ask, do you have to do? Besides ride in the wagon or walk beside it all day long.”
She gave a toss of her head. Her dark blonde hair hung in twin braids and they flipped from side to side. “I got plans.”
Warren and Mary Mae stared at each other.
“Any guesses?” he asked her.
“None I care to voice.” Her gaze held his, and he read her guess. Miss Polly had matchmaking plans. He groaned. “Good thing we will soon be at the fort.” Would that make any difference to the child, seeing as they would have to stay there until travel over the mountains was possible?
Frustration caught at his lungs. “Polly, I wish you would give up your plans.”
“Can’t.”
“I’m sure you can.”
He knew how stubborn Polly could be, but she must let go of this plan. “Why not?”
“Doesn’t the Bible say, �
�Where there is no vision, the people perish.’? I have no desire to perish.”
Warren’s mouth dropped open. He stared at Mary Mae caught by the dark surprise in her eyes. He spiraled downward, losing all sense of time and space, and then she laughed and his world returned to normal. Except, he couldn’t quite shake off the strange sensation of the experience. Nor could he explain what had happened to him.
“I never thought I’d hear a ten-year-old quoting scripture to defend herself.” Mary Mae’s voice was rich with amusement.
Warren laughed too, though he could not say if it was more amusement at Polly or at his own momentary loss of reasoning.
Buck called for the noon break and they pulled to a stop. The men quickly took the oxen and mules to water and let them graze and rest while they ate a cold meal.
Warren noticed how Buck studied the sky with a worried look on his face. Warren looked skyward too. Gray clouds scudded along, driven by the cold wind that made the travelers pull their warm clothes tighter around their neck.
Buck cut the nooning period short and they were soon back on the trail. Polly had joined Judith. Gil, with no need to scout further ahead at the moment, drove their wagon. Abel had gone back to the teamsters and helped drive the extra oxen.
“What is she up to?” Warren asked Mary Mae after he’d noticed Judith and Polly looking their way intently.
“Likely getting advice on love and marriage.” Mary Mae shrugged one shoulder and rolled her eyes.
“Just what a ten-year-old needs to know.”
“She’s ten going on thirty.”
He chuckled at the apt description of Polly. “I think she’s going to keep me on my toes.”
Mary Mae looked away, but not before he caught the hurt in her eyes. In the hopes of erasing it, he asked, “We’ll camp tonight near Chouteau Island. Do you recall the place from your trip to Independence?”
