Wagon Train Proposal. Renee Ryan

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       Chapter Four

      Midday approached with alarming speed. To Rachel’s utter dismay, the Hewitt wagon was still nearly half-full. While Abby continued entertaining the children with her singing, Rachel and Emma unloaded the rest of their belongings.

      On their immediate left, Abby’s father quietly organized the contents of his own wagon. Over the past few months, Rachel had grown fond of Vernon Bingham. A short, thin man with a slight paunch, he sported a horseshoe patch of gray hair beneath a bald pate. Though not especially handsome, he had a pleasant disposition. And a ready smile.

      Even with a hint of the sadness lingering in his blue eyes, he looked younger and healthier than when they’d left Missouri.

      Prior to the fatal snakebite, his wife had been the heartier of Abby’s parents. Martha Bingham’s untimely death was a startling reminder that disaster could, and often did, show up at the most unexpected moments on the trail.

      Rachel attributed the sting she felt in her eyes to thoughts of Mrs. Bingham’s shocking demise and the void the woman’s death had created in her family. Though no longer a child, Abby was now motherless. And Mr. Bingham was a widower.

      That last thought brought to mind another widower.

      Pressing a hand to her heart, Rachel glanced in the direction of the river to where Tristan worked side by side with her brother and Nathan. All three men had rolled up their sleeves, but Tristan’s forearms were especially strong and muscular.

      She knew he was a carpenter by trade. That certainly explained his dexterity with hammer, chisel and rope.

      Watching him now, Rachel’s stomach dipped before she had a chance to prepare for the sensation. She blinked and looked away quickly. Unfortunately, she couldn’t stifle the sigh that leaked past her lips.

      “Rachel?” Emma’s concerned voice rang out from the interior of the wagon. “Is something the matter?”

      “Oh, Emma, no. I’m sorry.” To her embarrassment, she realized she’d been wasting precious time staring at Tristan. “I was...just—” she swallowed “—lost in thought.”

      Hoping to avoid additional questions, she took the stack of folded blankets from her sister’s arms and set the pile on top of a nearby trunk.

      Emma stared at her a long moment but thankfully ducked back into the wagon without voicing her thoughts aloud.

      For the next half hour they worked in silence, Emma handing Rachel items from the wagon, Rachel finding a place for them with their other possessions.

      The sky up above was clearer now, mostly blue and speckled with small patches of fluffy white clouds. A sure sign they’d seen the end of the rain. At least for today.

      Not that another shower would slow down the wagon train. Rachel’s fellow travelers were a tenacious, hardworking bunch. With single-minded focus, they completed their tasks quickly and efficiently.

      Rachel had witnessed countless displays of teamwork throughout the arduous journey. Though, originally, neighbor helping neighbor had been necessary for survival, the emigrants had become a makeshift family in recent months, sharing highs and lows, joys and tragedies, celebrations and sorrow.

      Sighing, Rachel reached for the next load from Emma, a box of dry goods and kitchen utensils. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Tristan tie off a rope and then step back to study his handiwork.

      Even from this distance, she could make out the furrow of concentration on his brow. Or was that concern Rachel saw in his eyes? She couldn’t quite decide.

      He turned his head and focused on a spot farther down the river. He said something to Ben and, a second later, strode off in the direction he’d been looking.

      He seemed to have a specific destination in mind with his ground-eating stride—very determined, very sheriff-like.

      Rachel glanced ahead of him, past several clumps of men and women working, to where Grant and Amos Tucker were already loading up their raft.

      She cocked her head, confused. Surely Tristan wasn’t heading toward the brothers with that hard look on his face. Everyone liked the young men, Rachel included.

      Grant, tall and wiry, with dark hair, gray eyes and a thin mustache, was a charmer and very likable. Amos, equally tall but more muscular, with eyes that tended toward greenish-brown, was always the first to offer compassion when someone was hurt or possessions went missing.