A Home in Drayton Valley by Kim Vogel Sawyer Read Free Book Online

day or two of rest before climbing into a wagon and heading out. Mary would benefit from a comfortable bed in a warm hotel, if Joss were willing to spend the money.
    Mary draped her arm over their pile of belongings—two trunks and three carpetbags—and then rested her cheek on her bent elbow. She looked as worn out and sad as Tarsie’s crumpled bag, stirring Tarsie’s sympathy. Might the depotmaster be willing to share a tin cup and hot water so Tarsie could mix a potion to improve Mary’s constitution? Now that they sat on steady ground rather than in a rocking train car, surely her stomach would hold it down.
    Tarsie pressed Nathaniel into Emmy’s arms. “You children stay here with your mama. I’m going to—”
    â€œMary!” Joss’s booming voice carried over the discordant melody of hissing steam, whistle blasts, and conversation. Tarsie searched the crowd and spotted his hat-covered head. He emerged from the flow of people and stood before them, his hands on his hips. “Sorry it took so long. Had to walk near a mile to reach a livery, but I found us a wagon. It’s a sorry-looking thing, but the livery owner insists it’ll get us to Kansas without breaking down.” He swept off his hat and ran his hand through his thick, unruly waves. “I’m not as certain about the pair of nags he convinced me to buy to pull it, but I couldn’t afford any of the other horses in the corral.” He jabbed his thumb over his shoulder. “It’s waiting on the other side of the block. Couldn’t get it closer with all the fancy carriages cluttering up the street.”
    Mary wearily pushed to her feet, reaching her hand toward the children. “Well, then, let’s each take a bag and—”
    Tarsie pressed forward. “You sit back down with Emmyand Nathaniel. Joss’n me will cart our belongings to the wagon and then come fetch you.” She sent Joss a stern look, daring him to argue with her. Her gaze on Joss’s unsmiling face, she added, “After these past days of turning your belly inside out, you’re in no shape to be lifting anything heavier than a bird’s feather.”
    Silent communication passed between Tarsie and Joss, and although he hesitated for several seconds, he offered a brusque nod. “I’ll take the trunks. Tarsie can take the bags. You stay here with the young’uns until we’re loaded.” Bending forward, he pushed the bags from the trunks’ tops and lifted the biggest one. He sent a quick glance at Tarsie. “Follow me.”
    By filling their arms to overflowing, Tarsie and Joss transported all of their possessions from the depot to the wagon in three trips. Tarsie agreed with Joss about the wagon being sorry looking. With unpainted, weathered wood held together by rusty hardware and bent nails, the wagon appeared ready to rattle apart. But the boards supported the trunks and bags, and Tarsie had to trust that the human cargo wouldn’t fall through the bed, either.
    Tarsie remained with the wagon while Joss fetched Mary and the children. Her heart gave a funny flip when she saw them approach. Joss held Mary in his arms, the children scuttling along beside him, each holding to his jacket tails. What a picture they presented—a groom carrying his bride, attended by cherubs in homespun. Tears pricked her eyes, and she knew the image would be forever burned in her memory.
    Joss placed Mary gently into the bed of the wagon, then swung the children over the warped sides. He turned to Tarsie and offered his hands. She’d always viewed his broad hands—callused from years of toil—as hard and stern. But having seen them hold Mary with such tenderness, they seemed vessels of kindness. Of caring. Of love. Suddenly shy in hispresence—but uncertain why—she allowed him to assist her into the wagon.
    The wagon creaked and complained as Joss coaxed the team into