open and honest . . . and tolerant. "No. I'm not tired. I've slept enough in the past few days to last me a lifetime. But Lee's going to wake up soon and be hungry as a young bear."
She reached into the crate that they used in lieu of a cradle and patted the infant on the back. It was a miracle to her how much she loved the baby. After her mother had died, Lydia doubted that she would ever love another human being again. Maybe she loved the baby because he was totally dependent on her and couldn't hurt her. He wouldn't know any better than to love her back.
The wagons rolled to a halt just as Lee finished feeding. Lydia was rebuttoning her gown as Bubba steered the tired horses into the closing circle. No sooner had he unhitched them than Ma entered the wagon.
"How'd you like to get out of here?" she asked Lydia.
Chapter Four
"Y ou mean get up? Leave the wagon?" Lydia asked nervously. The only experience she had had with other members of the train was with Mr. Grayson and Mrs. Watkins. She wasn't ready to face the scrutiny and scorn of any of the others.
"Don't you feel up to it?"
"I think so," Lydia answered cautiously. "But I don't have any clothes."
"I brung some with me," Ma said, tossing down a bundle. "They're Anabeth's and prob'ly won't fit just right, but they'll have to do unless you want to wear that bedgown from now on."
Lydia was shaky as she stood, but was soon being bathed out of a basin and dressed in well-mended stockings, bloomers, and petticoat. "You ain't no bigger than a titmouse," Ma said disparagingly, eyeing Lydia's slender hips and thighs. "How you carried a babe, I'll never know."
That didn't hold true for her breasts. The bodice of the dress wouldn't close over them. "Tarnation," Ma said, aggravated. "Well, we'll button it up as far as it will go." Lydia felt that she would burst as she was squeezed into the material, but at least she was covered.
Luke had rubbed bootblack on her shoes and replaced the strings. She sat on the stool to lace them on while Anabeth pulled a brush through her hair.
"Now, ain't you pretty," Ma said proudly, crossing her arms over her stomach as she surveyed her handiwork. "Mr. Coleman brought me some quail he flushed out today and I've got a stew already simmerin' on your fire. It'd be a treat for him to come to his wagon and see that he had a fine meal waitin' for him, now wouldn't it? He's tendin' those horses of his. Why don't you move Lee's bed over near the tailgate and sit outside for a spell? The fresh air will do you good."
Timidly Lydia let herself be led outside. She was amazed by the activity going on. Sounds she had been listening to for almost a week now were matched to actions. Women were bent over campfires and portable ovens cooking the evening meal. Men were unhitching and rubbing down horses, carrying firewood, hauling water. Children were playing and shouting, racing between the tongues of the wagons.
"Here's Luke bringin' you some spring water." Ma had things well organized. "Why don't you get a pot of coffee boiling? I'm sure Mr. Coleman would appreciate that."
"Yes, I'll do that," Lydia agreed breathlessly. She would welcome something to do. People were beginning to notice her. She was aware of the nudges, the speculative, curious glances, the hushed conversations.
"I've got to see to our dinner, but I'll be right over yonder if you need me," Ma said.
Lydia was left alone. She busied herself with stoking up the fire, with stirring the fragrant stew, with making the coffee, with unnecessarily checking on Lee. When she ran out of things to do, she sat on the stool Luke had lifted out of the wagon for her, and stared into the fire. Not for anything would she raise her eyes to meet the curious looks cast in her direction.
That's how Ross found her. He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw her sitting there minding the cooking supper. The late afternoon sun set her reddish hair afire. Her cheeks were rosy with self-consciousness and the
She reached into the crate that they used in lieu of a cradle and patted the infant on the back. It was a miracle to her how much she loved the baby. After her mother had died, Lydia doubted that she would ever love another human being again. Maybe she loved the baby because he was totally dependent on her and couldn't hurt her. He wouldn't know any better than to love her back.
The wagons rolled to a halt just as Lee finished feeding. Lydia was rebuttoning her gown as Bubba steered the tired horses into the closing circle. No sooner had he unhitched them than Ma entered the wagon.
"How'd you like to get out of here?" she asked Lydia.
Chapter Four
"Y ou mean get up? Leave the wagon?" Lydia asked nervously. The only experience she had had with other members of the train was with Mr. Grayson and Mrs. Watkins. She wasn't ready to face the scrutiny and scorn of any of the others.
"Don't you feel up to it?"
"I think so," Lydia answered cautiously. "But I don't have any clothes."
"I brung some with me," Ma said, tossing down a bundle. "They're Anabeth's and prob'ly won't fit just right, but they'll have to do unless you want to wear that bedgown from now on."
Lydia was shaky as she stood, but was soon being bathed out of a basin and dressed in well-mended stockings, bloomers, and petticoat. "You ain't no bigger than a titmouse," Ma said disparagingly, eyeing Lydia's slender hips and thighs. "How you carried a babe, I'll never know."
That didn't hold true for her breasts. The bodice of the dress wouldn't close over them. "Tarnation," Ma said, aggravated. "Well, we'll button it up as far as it will go." Lydia felt that she would burst as she was squeezed into the material, but at least she was covered.
Luke had rubbed bootblack on her shoes and replaced the strings. She sat on the stool to lace them on while Anabeth pulled a brush through her hair.
"Now, ain't you pretty," Ma said proudly, crossing her arms over her stomach as she surveyed her handiwork. "Mr. Coleman brought me some quail he flushed out today and I've got a stew already simmerin' on your fire. It'd be a treat for him to come to his wagon and see that he had a fine meal waitin' for him, now wouldn't it? He's tendin' those horses of his. Why don't you move Lee's bed over near the tailgate and sit outside for a spell? The fresh air will do you good."
Timidly Lydia let herself be led outside. She was amazed by the activity going on. Sounds she had been listening to for almost a week now were matched to actions. Women were bent over campfires and portable ovens cooking the evening meal. Men were unhitching and rubbing down horses, carrying firewood, hauling water. Children were playing and shouting, racing between the tongues of the wagons.
"Here's Luke bringin' you some spring water." Ma had things well organized. "Why don't you get a pot of coffee boiling? I'm sure Mr. Coleman would appreciate that."
"Yes, I'll do that," Lydia agreed breathlessly. She would welcome something to do. People were beginning to notice her. She was aware of the nudges, the speculative, curious glances, the hushed conversations.
"I've got to see to our dinner, but I'll be right over yonder if you need me," Ma said.
Lydia was left alone. She busied herself with stoking up the fire, with stirring the fragrant stew, with making the coffee, with unnecessarily checking on Lee. When she ran out of things to do, she sat on the stool Luke had lifted out of the wagon for her, and stared into the fire. Not for anything would she raise her eyes to meet the curious looks cast in her direction.
That's how Ross found her. He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw her sitting there minding the cooking supper. The late afternoon sun set her reddish hair afire. Her cheeks were rosy with self-consciousness and the
Similar Books
