Whispers on the Wind (A Prairie Hearts Novel Book 5) by Caroline Fyffe Page A
Authors: Caroline Fyffe
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my life, I’ve been a guide, bringing wagon trains over the Oregon Trail. Since the transcontinental railroad slowed demand considerably, I make my way doing a little of this and a little of that.”
“A wagon master? How exciting!” She hurried to the opposite wall, beneath a sign overtop which he read to himself, Lending Lib-b-ary . She ran her fingers across the titles until she found what she was looking for and pulled out a book.
“This was published in late 1870 and features actual accounts of the early pioneers’ migration on that exact route. I’ve read it four times myself and it’s one of my favorites.” She enfolded the book into her embrace, her eyes shining. “I’m sure you have some fascinating stories to tell.”
Is fascinating the same as heartbreaking? He’d seen more death than any one man should. However, she made a good point. He’d also experienced more sunrises, seas of grazing buffalo, night skies so full of stars they didn’t look real, unfettered exuberance when reaching a destination alive, and the like, than most men could claim. She was absolutely correct. “I guess I do.”
“You must share a few before you leave Logan Meadows. There’re several families who have had personal experiences with the western overland route. I’m sure they’d love to speak with you. Hear what you have to say.”
I’m no public speaker. I’m not interested in sharing my past like a circus show.
She slipped the book back into its slot. “For now, how can I help you? Is it the reader you came in for?”
That and clearing up the misunderstanding about who it’s for. He nodded.
“Wonderful, then follow me right over here.” She took a small blue book off her back shelf and opened it several pages in.
There was a sketch of a black-and-white kitten that covered the whole page. Cat. My cat. The cat. His cat. Her cat. Black cat. Wh-wh-white cat.
He shook his head. “I’m beyond that. I can read all those words.” Almost.
“The book is for you, Mr. Wade? Not a child?”
“That’s right. I didn’t want to say so in front of that gossipy woman you warned me about. Didn’t want the news spread all over town”— the town I’ll soon be living in —“that I’m somewhat illiterate. I grew up traveling back and forth on the trail. The man who raised me had no learning, but would solicit the help of any kind woman along the way who could instruct me for a time. I never had any formal teaching, but I’m pretty good with my sums. Adding and subtracting. After your warning about Miss Fairington, I thought it best I keep that small fact to myself. I don’t feel good about deceiving you, but I stand by my reasons.”
“I understand completely.”
He shook his head, then glanced back at the picture of the cat, the book still resting open in her hands.
“I think that’s very admirable of you,” she said. “Desiring to further your education.”
Even though she was a bit judgmental on drinking and gambling, and she whiled away too many hours reading that could be put to better use, he couldn’t deny she was quite pretty. He wondered why a woman like herself hadn’t married. “Would you have something a bit more advanced?”
“Of course!”
She pulled out another and opened it to the middle.
He gazed at the page. It had been years since he’d been tutored. This was going to be more difficult than he’d first thought.
“Mr. Wade?”
Embarrassed, he shook his head, then pointed to the page. “The only words I know here are, the , but , look , and eat .” Disappointment pushed away his humiliation. I really need to be able to go over the accounts. Reading is a necessity. “I wonder if you might have some time to work with me? Just to get me started?”
She blinked, and her mouth opened a small amount as she thought over his statement. “You would progress much more quickly if I were close at hand to help with difficult words. Sounding out syllables takes time and
“A wagon master? How exciting!” She hurried to the opposite wall, beneath a sign overtop which he read to himself, Lending Lib-b-ary . She ran her fingers across the titles until she found what she was looking for and pulled out a book.
“This was published in late 1870 and features actual accounts of the early pioneers’ migration on that exact route. I’ve read it four times myself and it’s one of my favorites.” She enfolded the book into her embrace, her eyes shining. “I’m sure you have some fascinating stories to tell.”
Is fascinating the same as heartbreaking? He’d seen more death than any one man should. However, she made a good point. He’d also experienced more sunrises, seas of grazing buffalo, night skies so full of stars they didn’t look real, unfettered exuberance when reaching a destination alive, and the like, than most men could claim. She was absolutely correct. “I guess I do.”
“You must share a few before you leave Logan Meadows. There’re several families who have had personal experiences with the western overland route. I’m sure they’d love to speak with you. Hear what you have to say.”
I’m no public speaker. I’m not interested in sharing my past like a circus show.
She slipped the book back into its slot. “For now, how can I help you? Is it the reader you came in for?”
That and clearing up the misunderstanding about who it’s for. He nodded.
“Wonderful, then follow me right over here.” She took a small blue book off her back shelf and opened it several pages in.
There was a sketch of a black-and-white kitten that covered the whole page. Cat. My cat. The cat. His cat. Her cat. Black cat. Wh-wh-white cat.
He shook his head. “I’m beyond that. I can read all those words.” Almost.
“The book is for you, Mr. Wade? Not a child?”
“That’s right. I didn’t want to say so in front of that gossipy woman you warned me about. Didn’t want the news spread all over town”— the town I’ll soon be living in —“that I’m somewhat illiterate. I grew up traveling back and forth on the trail. The man who raised me had no learning, but would solicit the help of any kind woman along the way who could instruct me for a time. I never had any formal teaching, but I’m pretty good with my sums. Adding and subtracting. After your warning about Miss Fairington, I thought it best I keep that small fact to myself. I don’t feel good about deceiving you, but I stand by my reasons.”
“I understand completely.”
He shook his head, then glanced back at the picture of the cat, the book still resting open in her hands.
“I think that’s very admirable of you,” she said. “Desiring to further your education.”
Even though she was a bit judgmental on drinking and gambling, and she whiled away too many hours reading that could be put to better use, he couldn’t deny she was quite pretty. He wondered why a woman like herself hadn’t married. “Would you have something a bit more advanced?”
“Of course!”
She pulled out another and opened it to the middle.
He gazed at the page. It had been years since he’d been tutored. This was going to be more difficult than he’d first thought.
“Mr. Wade?”
Embarrassed, he shook his head, then pointed to the page. “The only words I know here are, the , but , look , and eat .” Disappointment pushed away his humiliation. I really need to be able to go over the accounts. Reading is a necessity. “I wonder if you might have some time to work with me? Just to get me started?”
She blinked, and her mouth opened a small amount as she thought over his statement. “You would progress much more quickly if I were close at hand to help with difficult words. Sounding out syllables takes time and
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