Ma tsked. “You are soaked through, Katherine. It’ll be a mercy if you don’t take sick.”
“It’s nothin’ a little time and some dry clothes won’t fix,” Kate said.
“It’s something that you should have let your brothers tend to.”
“Then they’d be the ones havin’ all the fun,” Kate said with a cheeky smile.
Ma’s voice was tight. “It is not a lady’s place to go frolic in the rain with the livestock.” She turned to Pa. “Will you talk some sense into her?”
Pa looked at Kate and gave her a wink. “Was it a good frolic?”
Kate grinned and Ma threw up her hands. “You’ve all lost your sense! What am I to do?”
“We’re a lost cause, Edie. Just set us free and we’ll wander the hills like Indians.”
Danny let out a whoop and Ma harrumphed. Ian just shook his head.
Kate gave her father a grateful smile and reached for her dry clothes.
Chapter 3
Sparksfloatedupwardintothe velvet blackness of the night sky. Kate perched on an upended pail and tried to stretch her aching back. Who knew sitting on a wagon seat for three days straight would make a body so sore. She still felt damp from yesterday’s storm.
Beside her, Ian lay on his side, head propped on a fist, lanky frame stretched behind her. He read one of his beloved books, tilted to catch the most of the meager light of the fire. Kate leaned forward to read the title on the spine—The Works of the Rev. John Witherspoon.She made a face.
“I saw that,” Ian said with a smile as he turned a page, his brown hair the exact shade as hers glinting in the firelight.
“How do you not fall asleep readin’ somethin’ so dry?” Kate asked in genuine confusion.
Ian sighed and put down his book. “Just because it’s not a dreamy romantic adventure doesn’t mean it isn’t worth reading.” She sniffed and turned away from her brother’s teasing brown eyes. No matter. Kate didn’t care one whit what anyone thought of her literary choices.
Ian went back to his reading, and Kate looked across the fire where Danny and Pa were engaged in a lively discussion on the qualities of a good cow horse. Ma listened with an absent smile, darning a pair of socks. Seeing all those dear faces, illuminated and softened by the warm glow of the dancing flames, Kate felt her heart burst with love andhappiness.Thank you, Lord,she whispered in her heart,for blessin’ me with such a family.
Leaning back, Kate gazed at the blanket of stars and listened to the quiet sounds that came to her drifting on the night air. Crackling fires. Muted conversations. The rustle of bedding livestock. Somewhere a horse whinnied, answered by the soft nickering of its kin.
A pair of booted feet interrupted the night’s quiet symphony and made a crunching approach to their camp. Kate turned, wondering which of the many fellow travelers she would meet this evening. She could make out a tall young man, his face still cast in shadow. But there was something familiar about his gait, the way he hunched his shoulders as if embarrassed of his height, the way he fiddled with the wide-brimmed hat in his hands. He finally stepped into the light, and she gasped in recognition. “Andrew? Andrew Thompson?”
The rest of the family, who hadn’t heard his approach, looked up at the young man in confusion. It wasn’t until they heard the newcomer’s familiar Georgian drawl that the spell of inaction broke.
“Good evenin’, y’all.”
Pa reacted first. “Andrew, me lad, good to see you!” he exclaimed and jumped up to clasp his hand in a vigorous handshake. “What on God’s green earth are you doin’ here?”
“Good to see you too, Mr. McGrath,” Andrew replied. Never far from his proper Southern manners, he politely extracted his hand from Pa’s grip and turned to Ma. “Mrs. McGrath. Danny. Ian.” He nodded to each of them in turn. “Howdy, Miss Kate,” he added, giving her a small smile.
Unsettled by his sudden appearance, Kate only furrowed her brow in response. She had said goodbye to her former life, cast it off without looking back; she had relished the opportunity to turn the page and start a new chapter. Confusion welled up in her heart. Hadn’t she said goodbye to Andrew and the other mule hands a week ago, never to seethem again? What was he doing here, with their wagon train, a three days’ journey out of St. Joe?
“Why don’t you have a seat, Andrew,” Ma graciously invited, “and tell us how you came to be here.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” Andrew accepted and carefully sat between Kate and Danny. Closer to her than was entirely comfortable. “Well,” he began, “you see, when y’all left, St. Joe got awful lonesome.” His eyes flickered in Kate’s direction. Or did she imagine it? “And, well, you had talked so often ’bout the glories of the West, Mr. McGrath, and how a man could become anythin’ he wanted out there”—his dark eyes glanced around the fire—“well, I s’pose I just decided that I might as well come along.”
Danny mirrored the quizzical frown Kate wore on her own face and asked, “You brought your own wagon?”
“No. I didn’t have enough coin for a whole wagon to myself,” Andrew answered.
When he didn’t offer any more information, Ian continued the line of questioning. “So how is it that you joined a wagon train without a wagon?”
“Oh, I just figured these caravans could always use another outrider, you know, for huntin’ and defendin’ the womenfolk.”
