Wagonmaster by Nita Wick Page A

substantial.
    After lunch, he stopped at Addie’s wagon. As usual, she’d stored all her belongings, hitched up her oxen, and stood ready to leave. Josh waited for her to climb into the wagon seat. He led her toward the trail and pointed in the direction she should go. She simply nodded and set her oxen on the path. No hesitation. No complaints about the treacherous mud. No fear.
    She never ceased to amaze him with her determination and strength. He’d learned so much about her during the last week. He looked forward to joining her after dinner every evening. She’d told him about how her father had decided to go west and become a rancher. He’d promised to come back for her after she’d finished school. He wanted to build a nice, safe home for her before he brought her to Oregon, but he’d gotten sick about three years ago and was unable to return. Although his mountain home helped with his condition, he was never able to fully recover.
    She’d asked many questions of her own during their talks around the campfire. Josh had answered very few of them, purposely changing the subject. Only once had she asked about his former wife. That was something he didn’t talk about. Not with anyone. She’d apologized for prying, but guilt rode him. He had been as nosey as any church busybody about her life, and she’d answered every question. But he’d been unable to do the same. It was yet another example of why he wasn’t fit to be her husband.
    The afternoon proved long and arduous. Travel was slower due to all the mud, but it was no less strenuous. Other than Addie, Josh had sent the wagons in order of strength. Those further back in the train found it even more difficult to navigate the trail. The muddy ruts became deeper and deeper, so those carrying lighter loads and the wagons with stronger oxen brought up the rear.
    Josh found a suitable campsite for the night and instructed Addie to make camp. The others followed her lead, pulling their wagons into the usual circle. Jimmy, driving the last wagon, whistled loudly and pointed to the wagon in front of him.
    The Wheeler’s wagon tipped dangerously, mired in mud. Josh hurried to enlist the help of Adams and Fleming. Wheeler remained in the wagon seat to control the restless oxen while Adams and Fleming levered themselves around a wheel buried to the axle in mud. Both men struggled to find purchase in the knee-deep quagmire. Josh moved around front to help guide the oxen.
    Wrapping his left arm around the yoke straps of one of the oxen, he used his right hand to stoke its head. He spoke softly to the animal to soothe it and calm its fear. Once the beast settled, he called to the others. “All right now. Fleming and Adams, tell us when you’ve lifted the wheel enough for us to try and move the wagon.”
    Adams counted to time the lift.
    A few moments later, Fleming yelled, “Go!”
    Josh nodded to Mr. Wheeler, signaling him to set the oxen in motion. He pulled on the straps wound around his arm. The oxen were slow to react to Wheeler’s prodding, so the man slapped them with the reins again. This time the beasts moved, but not in the intended direction. Pain tore through Josh’s shoulder as the beast jumped away and jerked his arm with unexpected force.
    Josh’s breath seized, and it took him a moment before he could alert the others to his predicament. “Hold!”
    Wheeler pulled on the reins and stopped the animals. Josh managed to free himself, but his knees buckled. The blood rushed back into his arm, sending a new wave of agony through him.
    â€œYou all right, Reynolds?” Concern etched Wheeler’s voice.
    Josh bit back a cry of pain. He could do no more than shake his head and grind his teeth together. His arm throbbed relentlessly, and his shoulder burned like fire. Certain he’d torn his arm from his body, he lifted his right hand, running it over his shoulder to check for