Vow Unbroken (9 page)

She bumped his arm. “Ever been to Memphis?”

“No, ma'am, never have.”

“Do you think you might want to go sometime?” She looked up at him and batted her eyelashes. “I hear it's a very nice place.”

He laughed, then flicked the reins and swallowed hard. Even the little girl knew about her mother's vow. But then why wouldn't she? Most everyone in the Red River Valley knew the beautiful Widow Baylor had vowed not to marry again without her father's blessing. She'd for sure have already been snapped up if the man didn't live so far away in Tennessee. Too bad for the others; worked to his advantage though.

Of course, he'd considered her, asked around, ever since seeing her that day at the trading post with that storm blowing in, her leaning into the wind. What had it been? Four years? And he'd never heard an unfavorable word about her. With prospective wives few and far between in the territory and far more available men, he should've got over there sooner, let her know of his interest, but he wanted to impress her, be ready for the journey east. Then his mother . . .

“Get up, Brown Mule.” He hadn't thought of being a father to this miniature Sue. He'd only considered the widow, the possibility of making her a part of his life. But, now that Rebecca had brought it up, he pondered what all that having Sue entailed. The widow definitely came with some baggage, including the boy.

The girl bumped his arm again. “Mister Henry?”

“Yes?”

“Please promise not to tell Mama. About me prayin', I mean. I figure it should be our secret for now.”

He grinned. Smart like her mother, too. “Yes, ma'am, little miss. Our secret; I promise.”

Glancing up through the dancing leaves, he breathed a heavy sigh. The morning sun sparkled on them, through them, as though diamonds were the trees' fruit. They'd soon turn colors and another fall would arrive with its cooler weather. He loved autumn best of all. He looked back down at the top of the child's head. So, she'd been praying for a daddy. Poor little gal.

The wheels rolled against the hard-packed trail, spitting out occasional rocks. Wooden boards creaked under their load, and the mules' hooves kept a rhythm with the wagon's groans. Amazing how a man's life could take such a turn in two short days. Before the widow rode into it that morning, he'd never thought once about being anyone's father.

The trail had been on a descent all morning. A little after noon, he smelled the river and, soon enough, heard it. The little girl's chatter had finally stopped. He guessed she'd fallen asleep against him. He chuckled to himself. Again, so much like her mama.

He steered the team to the left, looking for the crossing the old man had told him about. Couldn't have missed it, though; the banks on both sides had been worn smooth. He stopped the team short, locked the brake, eased Rebecca awake, and then jumped down. Directly, Sue appeared at his side. He looked past her. “Levi, keep them back. We best water the mules before we cross.”

Sue grabbed his arm. “Why do that? They just had a drink not two hours ago.”

He leaned back against the wheel and threw his right leg across his left knee. “We don't want them stopping for any reason when we cross. Better safe than sorry.” He tugged off his right boot and sock.

She nodded. “And why are you taking off your boots?”

He looked at her a minute. Why, why, why. She was as bad as her little girl. “I'm going to walk the crossing before we take these wagons into the water.”

“Oh. Well. That's a good idea.” Her eyes twinkled with what looked to him like playful admiration.

“Well, thank you, ma'am. Glad to hear you think so.”

She smiled and even let a chuckle out. “You're so welcome.”

He pulled his other boot and sock off, then handed the pair to the little girl. “Keep them dry for me up there on the seat.” He turned back to Sue. “Could you please hold the team?”

“Certainly, glad to.” She walked up to the mules and rubbed Daisy's muzzle. “Whoa, girl.”

He walked in right where one wagon wheel would travel. The water was a bit cool, but not too bad. The river flowed a little above his knees at its deepest. He reached the far side, then came back where the other wheel would travel. It was narrow like the old man had said, but appeared more than wide enough to accommodate the wagons.

Levi busied himself hauling buckets of water to let the mules quench their thirst while Henry checked the riverbed. Sue met him at the bank on his return, still smiling. She was even prettier when she smiled.

“Looks like it'll be fine. Best we all get to waxing the wagons. Levi, you can help me with the underside.” With that chore accomplished, Henry handed Sue his paraffin. “Tell the boy to hang back while I cross. Once I clear the far side, he
can come hold that team, and I'll get on back over here.”

“Now, Mister Buckmeyer, I'm perfectly capable of driving my wagon across after you.”

“No doubt, ma'am, but it wouldn't do to get that cotton wet.” He didn't mention keeping his tobacco or pelts dry. “How about you let me get this first one to the other bank? I'll have a better feel. Then we'll see.”

“Fine, fine.” She held her hands up to her daughter. “Come on down, Becky. You wait here with Mama.”

“But I want to ride across with Mister Henry.” The little girl frowned and stuck out her bottom lip.

“Rebecca, I agree with your mother. It's safer to let me go it alone, so why don't you jump on down like your mother said?”

She turned her frown on him, then smiled and jumped off the sideboard. He climbed back into the first wagon. “Ho, now. Let's go.” He shook the reins, and the team heaved the load forward.

Keeping a close eye on the far bank, he urged them into the water. “Slow, now. Steady.” He spoke in calm tones.

On the far bank, the mules pulled the load out, and water, rushing off the wagon and wheels, ran back into the river. He took a deep breath, thankful the crossing had gone without mishap. He drove the team well up on the south side, then jumped down, hoping the lady wouldn't insist on driving the other wagon across. “Levi, come on over and hold this team.”

The boy shook his head and glared. Henry hated it that the youngster acted so mad all the time, but he figured his bad attitude stemmed from not having a father to teach him to be a man. No way could a woman do that, no matter how hard she tried.

“No need. He can ride over with us,” Sue lifted Rebecca
up and then followed her daughter into the wagon. Levi climbed in on the opposite side. “Ho, Mil! Come on, Mabel.”

Why did she feel the need to prove herself all the time? He was already duly impressed by her capabilities. “Keep 'em coming. Don't let 'em stop.”

Safely on the far bank, she pulled the rig up next to the first and climbed down with an ear-to-ear grin and her chin held a little high. “I did it, Mister Buckmeyer, didn't I?”

He smiled more at her elation than the successful crossing. “You sure did, ma'am.” Without a single hitch, both wagons crossed the Sulphur River and nary a drop landed on the lint or any of his goods. “Maybe some dinner while we're stopped?”

She nodded. “We've got biscuits.”

“That'll work, especially with a bit of my honey.” He turned to Levi. “Grab the buckets, and we'll fill the barrels.” He faced her again. “You do like honey, don't you?”

“Yes, indeed, and we can certainly take time for a noonday meal.” She appeared to be altogether happy with life. “Especially since we crossed the Sulphur so easily. I mean without incident, basically no trouble of any kind. Can you believe it?” She cleared her throat and laid one palm against her cheek. “Of course now”—her eyes twinkled—“I'd never be one to say I told anyone so.”

He nodded. “Good.” Before he put his boots back on, he waded out midstream, waited for the water to clear, then dipped the bucket full, handed it to the boy, and took the empty one. He had to figure a way to adjust that boy's attitude. And the woman? She had no idea how many things could've gone wrong.

T
OWARD THE END
of the first hour back on the trail, Levi came trotting up beside Henry. “Aunt Sue says for me to relieve you.”

“She's the boss.”

The boy jumped aboard, then settled in to the seat next to him, but didn't offer to take the reins. “I never took you for a coward.”

Henry glanced over at him. “I didn't take you for a fool either, but you're sure talking like one.”

“Oh, you think so? It was you ran off in the middle of the night when that stinking drunk came into camp.”

“That what you believe?”

The boy sniggered. “It's what I know, mister; saw it with my own eyes.”

Henry shook his head. He hated explaining himself, but the boy needed a lesson. “What if there'd been more of them?”

“There wasn't.”

“And you knew that right off?”

“Well, no, but the way I see it, a man meets whatever he has to head-on, not sulking around in the dark.”

“I prefer to know what's afoot, how many I have to fight. It's best to have all the advantages you can get going into any scrap.”

Levi studied Daisy's rump like he was trying to figure things out. After a bit, he turned back and stared at Henry a few minutes before saying anything. “What would you have done if there had of been more of them?”

“Whatever it took.”

The boy gave a quick nod and then reached over and grabbed the reins. “Aunt Sue said she'd like a word with you.”

Henry jumped down and slow-walked until Sue's wagon pulled alongside. Blue Dog trailed him. “You wanted a word?”

Rebecca leaned out across her mother. “Why is it you're walking when it's always my turn after Levi?”

“Guess we both can walk.”

“Sure you can.” Her mother shook her head at Henry. “Why don't you jump on down, Becky? You've gotten plenty good at it. Play with Blue and spend some of that energy of yours.”

“All right, Mama, thank you! I'll keep you in sight. I won't forget!”

He adjusted his hat, gesturing to Sue before setting it a little further back on his brow. “That word?”

“Oh, I was just so excited that we got across the Sulphur with no problems and didn't have to go so far out of the way over to the ferry, I hadn't told you how much I'd appreciate it if you could stop underestimating me.” She smiled down. “I mean I realize men think women are helpless without them, and I don't mean to be rude, but I have taken care of myself and my business without a man's help for a long time now. And I drove my wagon across that river with no trouble.”

He could hardly believe his ears. “Don't believe I have underestimated you, ma'am, but I apologize for giving you that impression. I've actually been quite astonished with your achievements. These sixteen bales of cotton on their way to market are a mighty testament to your abilities, Sue.”

“Oh. Well.” She cleared her throat. “Thank you, I guess.”

“And I was right proud of you for chasing off that horrible man this morning, too.”

“But you didn't think I could drive my own wagon across the river.”

“Wasn't that at all, ma'am.”

She looked off as though considering. “Then what was it?”

He shrugged. “Nothing to do with your capabilities, just wanted to be sure the load didn't get wet.”

“Well.” Her foot tapped the boards, then stopped. “All right. Since that's out of the way, I've thanked the good Lord for our safe crossing, and I wanted to thank you, too. For making sure it all went well and everything.”

“You're welcome, ma'am.” Seemed to him that the Lord always got a lot of credit for things a man did, but she could believe what she wanted.

“Also want to ask you, if you get a chance, would you talk to Levi? He's—”

He waved her off. “We talked. We're good.”

“Excellent. He is a precious boy.”

He looked off to Rebecca romping with Blue and laughing. “You've done a fine job with the both of the children, Sue; another of your impressive achievements.”

“Why thank you.” She didn't say anything for a while and fidgeted with runaway strands of her hair, working them back
under her hat. “Well, I guess that's all. I'm glad to know you think a little more highly of my efforts and wishes; especially since I—well—hired you to come along to assist us.”

Man, she just couldn't let it go. “Yes, ma'am. Sorry you got the wrong idea that I didn't.”

Rebecca ran up beaming. “I sure love your dog, Mister Henry.”

He gave the little girl a wink, then looked back up at Sue. “Mother always said, ‘Takes more than brawn to survive Texas.' ”

A hint of blush flushed Sue's cheeks. A smile tried to form, but she stopped it. “Well, thank you, Henry.” She wouldn't meet his eye, but it was the first time she'd used his given name since she came to his place. He liked the sound of it on her lips. “That's so kind of you to say.”