by Linda Ford
Mary Mae came to his side. “What are you doing?”
“I can’t stay here. Who knows how long the storm will last. Maybe into the night. You might think you can ignore the judgment on one night together, seeing as we were stranded outdoors, but not a second time when there are alternatives.”
She caught his hand. “It’s early. You can surely stay until after supper.”
He turned slowly to look into her face. Was she asking him to stay? Did she desire his company?
He left the knot secure and put his back toward the flap. Polly huddled under a blanket, sitting near the front. She eyed them both with interest.
Did she think this would turn out differently than her plan had?
The child was restless and shifted about. “There’s nothing to do in here.”
“Help me amuse her,” Mary Mae whispered.
That explained why she wanted him to stay. He sank down and pulled his knees up as far as he could.
Mary Mae sat beside him. Polly stared at the two of them. Suddenly she brightened. “Can we play some of the games we played last night?”
One game they wouldn’t be repeating was her trying to trick them into marriage. He didn’t mind playing the others.
Soon they laughed as they tried to come up with words beginning with the last letter of the word given by the previous person.
He didn’t realize how long they played word games until Luke banged the side of the wagon. “Better look outside.”
Warren scrambled to his feet and opened the flap. Mary Mae pressed to his side so she could see and Polly elbowed her way in front of them.
He reached a hand out, palm upward. “No more snow.”
“But fog as thick as pudding.”
They couldn’t see the end of the wagon ahead of them.
Warren said, “I have to make sure the animals are okay.”
“Of course,” Mary Mae said. “We’ll start a fire.”
Warren caught Polly by the shoulders. “Do not leave this wagon under any conditions.”
“I won’t, but what if you get lost out there?”
Warren held her tight. “I won’t get lost.”
“Promise.”
“I promise.”
“Okay.”
He released her, jumped down and helped Mary Mae to the ground. “Stay inside the circle of wagons.”
“I will.” She squeezed his hand. “Stay safe.”
Their fingers lingered even as they stepped apart and then she was merely a shadow through the fog.
Orange flames leapt skyward. Someone had thrown wood on the fire. He knew she would be safe.
Luke and Warren followed the ring of wagons to take care of the animals.
“Donna Grace is concerned about Mary Mae’s reputation.” Luke’s words sounded hollow in the fog. “She’s worried the men will look at her differently. And her grandfather Ramos is going to kick her to the street if he hears. She says he is very strict.”
“You heard her. She isn’t interested in getting married.”
“Maybe we have to do what is best for her.”
Warren stopped. He looked at his brother, shrouded in mist. “You can’t force her to marry me. Nor would I want it.” The truth was not hidden by the fog. He didn’t plan to marry again, but if he changed his mind, he wanted a woman who loved him enough to accept him with his flaws and failings. One to whom he would be willing to offer not only his heart, but his loyalty above his own pursuits and the best care he could provide. Guess that meant he might fail at times, maybe out of blindness, but not out of neglect. He’d learned how badly that could turn out and what a terrible toll it could take.
“If we marry it will be because we decide it is what we want. Not to satisfy a bunch of people who would judge us for doing what had to be done.”
They reached the animals. At least taking care of them eliminated any possibility of Luke pursuing the subject.
Why couldn’t they all accept that Warren and Mary Mae didn’t want to marry and stop bringing up the topic?
Mary Mae wiped the dampness from her face. She’d never before experience fog like this. Wet and thick as soup. Thankfully the snow had stopped and only a thin layer covered the ground. The warmth of the fire melted the snow and the rising steam added to the moisture in the air.
Donna Grace huddled close to the fire with Elena in her arms. “This damp coldness is so penetrating. I worry the baby will take a chill.”
Judith sat beside Donna Grace, trying to keep a wriggling Anna wrapped. “Same with this one. I fear pneumonia.”
“You two keep your babies safe and dry. Mrs. Shepton and I will take care of meal preparation. Right, Mrs. Shepton?”
“Indeed.” She shivered. “The cold bites right through my old bones.”
Mary Mae looked at the trio of women. They all looked miserable and worried, though perhaps the shroud of fog that partially obscured them added to the appearance. “All of you stay by the fire. I can finish supper preparations.” There was little left to do. The stew and beans had simmered while they sheltered in the wagons. She mixed up a batch of biscuits and set them to bake. Thinking a nice sweet would cheer up everyone, she mixed up a raisin pudding and put it to steam.
The coffee pot had been drained and she made more, wanting it to be ready when the men came in.
The fog muffled sounds, giving them a strange echoing feel. The lowing of the oxen and the shouts of the men were muted so she couldn’t tell how far away they were, or even which direction. If she couldn’t see the other women huddled by the fire, she would feel as if she were alone in a damp, grey world.
A scream rent the air. Mary Mae’s arms jerked so hard she almost splashed hot water on herself. Her heart reared. It took her a moment to place the sound. And when she did, her alarm magnified a thousand times. “Polly!” She raced for the wagon, scrambling over the tailgate with no regard for her long skirts.
Polly grabbed Mary Mae’s arms, sobbing and shaking.
“What’s wrong?”
“I saw something.” Her words came in fits and starts.
“What? Where?” Mary Mae climbed into the wagon and held the child.
Polly jabbed a shaking finger toward the opening. “Out there.”
“Well, let’s have a look.” But Polly held Mary Mae and prevented her from moving. “Honey, was it one of the men? The dog? A horse?”
Polly shook her head to each question. Her fear was palpable.
Mary Mae shivered. It wasn’t like Polly to be upset by anything. Like she said, she’d been up and down the trail before. She’d seen all sorts of things, many of which were too intense and frightening for a child. Perhaps the events of the last few days had caught up to her. “Honey, nothing bad is going to happen to you. Both Warren and I are here to protect you. So are all the rest of the people out there.”
“But none of them are here. I was all by myself.”
Mary Mae almost allowed herself to be consumed by Polly’s fear, but she forced herself to remain rational. Polly likely had been frightened by being alone and in her loneliness had imagined something. She could remember how she and Donna Grace used to frighten each other by pretending they saw scary things in the shadows.
“I have to check.” She eased out of Polly’s grasp and made her way to the back. Despite telling herself there was nothing to fear, she tightened the ropes on the flap and peered out a small opening. “There’s nothing but fog.” She aimed for an amused chuckle but admittedly, it sounded strained. “The fog rolls and twists. That’s probably all you saw.”
“No, it wasn’t. I know it.”
Mary Mae began to loosen the ropes of the closure. “I must get back to supper preparations.”
Polly latched on to her.
Mary Mae tried to extricate herself, but she no more than pried one hand free when Polly grabbed her again.
“Honey, stay here. Pull the flaps tight. You can look out the front and see us around the fire.”
; “No, I can’t. The fog swallows you up.”
Mary Mae went to the front to peer out. She could see nothing but shadowy shapes she knew to be the wagons and an eerie orange glow from the fire. She couldn’t even make out the women. No wonder the child felt alone and afraid. She considered taking Polly with her, but would Warren object to her overriding his decision that Polly must spend a whole day in the wagon?
Polly clung to her. She either had to stay with the child or take her with her.
As she debated which to do, a shot rang out, the noise ringing through her head and setting her heart into a wild gallop.
Polly whimpered. Mary Mae hugged her.
“What happened?” Polly choked out.
“I don’t know.” She could barely manage a whisper. Who was out there? Raiders? A thump came from nearby. A thudding shook the wagon. Was someone about to attack them? She looked about. How could she defend herself? She didn’t have so much as a piece of wood. She drew Polly with her to a spot between the trunk and the seat and prayed if anyone looked in the wagon they would not be seen.
Another shot blasted through the air.
Mary Mae’s arms spasmed and her heart rattled against her ribs.
Polly buried her face against Mary Mae and Mary Mae held to the child so hard she wondered if she could breathe.
A third shot.
Fear lived in the wagon, its breath hot and filled with danger.
What or who was being shot? What if Warren had been hit? She tried not to sniffle, but she couldn’t imagine completing the trip without him. The truth was, she couldn’t imagine life without him. But she must. He would continue freighting and she would go on to Santa Fe to help Sophia. Neither of them wanted to stay together. Each of them had their own reasons. But her insides were as brittle and fragile as early morning ice on a pond as she thought of something happening to him.
She tried to pray. For safety for Warren. For Sophia and her baby. For Polly and the home she so desperately wanted. But her thoughts had knotted until she couldn’t breathe, afraid the sound would reveal her whereabouts. She waited, nerves tingling, for another shot, but silence as deep as an ocean surrounded her.
A man called out. Was it someone they knew? Or a stranger intending them harm? She recognized Frenchie’s voice. And then shouts.
She thought she heard Donna Grace speak, but she wasn’t about to leave the shelter of the wagon until she knew for certain it was safe to venture out.
11
Warren left the teamsters to deal with the animals and hurried back to the campsite, knowing Mary Mae would be concerned about the shots. Luke and Reverend Shepton were hot on his heels. Gil had left with Buck to check on the animals.
The fog altered distances, and it seemed they had to run a long ways to reach the inner circle of wagons. He didn’t slow his steps until he reached the fire and glanced around.
Donna Grace sat with Elena in her arms. Judith held a drowsy Anna. Mrs. Shepton looked relieved to see the men.
But where was Mary Mae? His mind raced as he thought of her lost in the fog. “Where is she?” His question was loud and harsh.
“She went to the wagon a bit ago,” Judith said. “I haven’t seen her since.”
He covered the distance in long strides. The flap had been tied closed and he struggled to find the ends of the rope and loosen it. No sound came from inside the wagon and in his haste, his fingers were clumsy, but finally he had an opening he could climb through. The wagon dipped as he stepped up and swung his leg over the tailgate. Shadows filled the inside, but he could see through to the front and he didn’t see Mary Mae or Polly.
Surely he was mistaken. They had to be there. He blinked. He could not see anyone. “Mary Mae,” he bellowed.
“Warren.” From the shadows a small figure emerged and threw herself against him, clinging so tightly he couldn’t move.
He squatted down. “Where’s Mary Mae?”
“Here.” He heard her soft answer, set Polly aside and went to her side. She sat against the side of the wagon, her knees drawn up so he hadn’t been able to see her in the dimness. She reached out her hands and caught his shoulders, but other than that, she didn’t try to move.
“Are you hurt?” He touched her arms, caressed her face. If she had accidently been shot, he didn’t know how he would endure it. To see her suffer. Or die. His throat clenched off.
“Just weak with relief at seeing you. I don’t think my legs will hold me.”
He sat down and pulled her close. “You’re okay. Thank God.”
“Thank God you are safe. When I heard the shots I was so afraid that—” She couldn’t go on.
He too had lost the power of speech.
Polly planted herself on his lap and burst into tears. “I saw something, but Mary Mae didn’t believe me.”
“There were wolves out there. That’s likely what you saw. Thank God you are both safe.” He held them close. It was a moment before he could go on. “We saw them and shot three. The others ran away. A lot of our animals spooked and ran off.”
Polly sobbed. “The wolves will get them.”
“I hope not.” But it was a possibility. Not one he felt ready to worry about at the moment. It was time to get on with the necessities of the day. “I think we should go find supper.”
Polly sat up. “I am not staying in here by myself.” She sucked in a deep breath and changed her tone. “Please, Warren. Don’t make me. I’ve learned my lesson. I won’t do anything to cause trouble.” Her words held nothing but pleading.
“I hope you’ve learned the foolishness of what you did. Yes, you may come with us.” There was no way he meant to leave her behind. In fact, if not for the necessity of finding the oxen and mules, he would not leave either of them until they reached the safety of the fort.
He climbed from the wagon, lifted Polly down and helped Mary to the ground. Polly would normally have scampered away, but she clung to Warren’s hand. Mary Mae clung to his other side. He was more than happy to hold them both close.
They joined the others at the fire. He kept Mary Mae pressed to his side. Polly leaned over his knee, sticking to him.
The women demanded explanation from the men and heard the story. But too many talked at once. Reverend Shepton held out his hand. “One at a time. If I may?”
Warren nodded. “Go ahead.” The others murmured agreement.
The reverend began his story. “I think Gil was the first to notice the shadows shifting.”
Mary Mae took Judith’s hands. “I’m sure he’s okay.”
Judith nodded. She knew, as they all did, that many dangers lurked in the fog, not the least of which were a pack of wolves.
Reverend Shepton continued. “Suddenly, the animals leapt at us.”
Warren wondered if he knew his voice shook. But then all of them had been alarmed and frightened at the attack.
“One went for an ox. Frenchie grabbed the animal by the scruff of the neck and pulled it off. You heard the shots. I think they all hit their mark, but it was too foggy to see. The wolves slunk away.” He glanced over his shoulder toward. “I certainly hope they’ve left us for good.”
Polly pressed to Warren’s chest. He wrapped an arm protectively around her. Mary Mae held to his hand and he intertwined his fingers with hers. He would protect both of them from wolves, or wild men, or whatever danger lingered out there.
Luke held baby Elena in one arm and Donna Grace in the other. “Gil and Buck and several of the men have gone to bring back the oxen that stampeded. And there is a tight guard around the other animals.”
An uneasy silence settled over the circle of people.
Mrs. Shepton got to her feet. “Everyone is safe and that is what truly matters. God will take care of us each step of the way and right into His presence.”
Hardly reassuring to think of being ushered into God’s presence at this moment, Warren thought, but he knew the woman meant well.
She continued. “The food is ready. We migh
t as well eat.” She turned to her husband. “Would you ask the blessing?”
The reverend rose, took off his hat and bowed his head. For a moment, he didn’t speak, and then, his voice ringing with strength, he thanked God for protection and food and asked for the safety of the men searching for the oxen. “Amen.”
Mrs. Shepton began to serve the beans and potatoes and roast buffalo meat that the women had prepared. Judith held Anna and Donna Grace huddled close with Elena in her arms. Two little girls, sheltered by the love and devotion of the adults. Warren knew any of them would risk their lives for the children. It was a sobering, yet comforting, thought, especially as he counted himself among them.
The food was hot and tasty, but he could have been eating ten-day-old biscuits for all the enjoyment he got from the meal. He glanced around. The others ate slowly and with little interest.
Mrs. Shepton served them coffee and a raisin pudding. “Mary Mae made this,” she said as she gave Warren his portion. “She’s a good cook.”
“Yes, she is.”
“Brave and independent, too.”
“So I’ve discovered.” Despite finding her hiding and afraid in the wagon, he knew if she had been alone, perhaps the only one to survive an attack, she would forge ahead. She would not remain curled in a ball. She would ask for help if she needed it.
Guilt and regret seared up his throat as he realized he thought of Gina in that statement. Why hadn’t she gone for help when she realized how sick she and Reggie were? He shooed the disloyal thought away. It was his fault for not being there, not hers for not seeking help.
A heavy silence sank over the gathering. Only Anna, who had begged for him to hold her, seemed oblivious and babbled her baby talk as she played with the buttons on his coat.
Thudding drew every eye toward the sound.
Shadowy figures flitted in the fog. Warren made out the shapes of two men. They spoke. It was Gil and Buck returning.
Judith hurried to Gil and they hugged. She stuck to his side as they joined the others around the campfire. Mrs. Shepton brought both men a plate of food and a cup of coffee.
