“Ye probably deserved it.”
“My sister Nell screamed and kicked,” said Boyd. “I’d just give her a little shake and she’d scream as if I was killing her, then kick me. My mother always said she was probably having a nightmare.”
“I complained to my father,” said James, “and he said my mother punched too so he just gave her a poke with a stick, a long stick. So I started doing that, right up until she got married. My sister’s husband doesn’t have bruises so I have to wonder if he does the same. Pa might have warned him.”
“My mother told me to just stare at her, that a person can sense that and wake up. Just to be sure, I had my brothers and sisters come with me and we all stared at her. It worked,” said Boyd, and nodded as if it had been the greatest hint of knowledge he had ever been given.
“How many brothers and sisters do ye have?” asked Matthew.
“Four brothers and three sisters,” Boyd answered. “The girls were the worst at waking up. Boys just cursed you, rolled over, and tried to go back to sleep.”
Matthew shook his head. “I just have brothers but, while they might not wake up cheerful, they do wake up without any trouble.”
“Then you wake her up,” said James.
“Why not just let the lass sleep for a bit?”
That sounded like a good idea, Abigail thought, but doubted she would be able to after hearing their ridiculous conversation. For grown, battle-hardened men, they could certainly talk a lot of nonsense. Then she wondered if they had these moments of silliness because of how ugly their lives had to be sometimes when caught up in a war. It was a sad thought and she quickly shook it away.
“What is that on her head?” asked Matthew.
“A sunbonnet,” replied Boyd. “My mother always wore one.”
“Looks like a coal scuttle.”
Abigail decided that was more than any woman should have to endure and, fighting the urge to grin, she grabbed her rifle. She heard James curse and, when she rose up on her knees, she saw that all three men had ducked down, hiding by the side of the wagon. She put her rifle aside, moved to the side of the wagon, and peered over. It was nearly painful to hold back the urge to laugh.
“Why are you down there?” she asked.
“Checking on the goat,” said Matthew as he awkwardly stood up.
“Is she all right?”
“Looks fine,” said Boyd.
He brushed off his coat and frowned at her. “Where is your rifle?”
“Over there.” She pointed to where it was always set, away from the baby but still within reach, and allowed herself a small grin since her face was turned away from them.
Matthew glared at James who just shrugged and grinned. “I panicked.”
Ignoring them, Abbie checked to be sure Jeremiah was still safely shaded and asleep then climbed into the driver’s seat. “I think we ought to put the goat into the wagon,” she told Boyd when he climbed up beside her.
“Why? She really did look just fine. Only a bit dusty.”
“Because I need her milk for Jeremiah and I don’t think it is good for her to be trotting along under there. It is too hot and dusty. Even a goat has to be bothered by that.”
“Ah, I suppose it is possible it could affect her enough for her milk to dry up.”
He climbed into the back and used her chests to form a pen for the animal, pushing them to the sides and angling them to make a square with the wagon side. Abbie climbed into the back and stretched a blanket out to shade the area. She hoped the goat wouldn’t eat it as she secured it to the wagon. She got down to drag the goat out and heft her into the wagon, placed her in her newly constructed pen, then tied her rope to the back of the seat.
As Abbie got back into her seat she decided she needed a new name for the animal. She could not understand what had possessed Mrs. Beaton to call the goat Delphinium. Perhaps the animal ate some of hers, she decided as she picked up the reins and they started on their way.
“Are ye going to wear that hat all the way?” Matthew asked as he rode up by her side.
“At least until the sun sets, the coal scuttle stays on.”
Matthew winced, realizing she had been awake longer than he had suspected. Boyd hid a faint smile behind his hand but James was grinning widely and he knew the man was fighting not to laugh. Matthew tried to think of something to say, something that sounded like an apology, but he could not think of a thing. He did really hate that hat on her.
