Trail Angel by Derek Catron Read Free Book Online Page B

boat and cluttered as an old barn. Heavy wheels, set wide and constructed of a wood that resisted shrinking in a dry climate, supported the deep bed divided into two floors. The lower, reserved for provisions, stored things that were not needed each day. The upper, for clothing and bedding, doubled as a lounging place during the day and a bedroom at night. The running gear was removable so that the wooden wagon box, sealed watertight with pine tar, would float while fording a river.
    â€œMy challenge is trying to find a place to store these boxes without removing half of what we’ve already packed,” she said.
    Josey Angel extended a hand, but Annabelle ignored the offer. She’d been climbing in and out of the wagon for days while helping to pack provisions. The wagon had an arched, canvas-covered roof, with the hickory bows stretched high enough so a child could stand under them. Annabelle hunched over and narrated her progress as she made her way into the wagon.
    â€œThis first big box is packed with bacon, salt and other things we need often.” She stepped past huge linen sacks of flour and corn meal, smaller sacks of beans, rice, sugar and green coffee beans that they would brown in a skillet. “This old chest has clothes and things we will want to wear and use on the way. Then there’s the medicine chest.” She moved farther back, opened the box and recited its contents. “Brandy, quinine for malaria, hartshorn for snakebite, citric acid for scurvy.”
    She kicked at a metal cleat fastened to the bottom of the wagon. “These are for ropes to hold things in place.” She moved on, pointing to another box, nearly as high as the chest. “That has a few dishes and things Mother will want once we arrive.” Seeing his reaction, she said, “You don’t carry a tea set on the back of your horse?”
    Making her way back, she described items gathered along the sides: ax, shovel, handsaw, auger, rope. In one corner stood a ten-gallon keg for water and a churn. “That’s where the sheet iron stove goes when we aren’t using it,” she said, pointing to the other corner. “See how the lunch basket fits into the tub?”
    He pointed beside her. “Whose chair?”
    â€œThat’s Mother’s. We’ll turn it down at night, level things out with the sacks and pile the bedding and comforters on top to sleep.”
    â€œYou’ll sleep here with your parents?”
    â€œA gentleman wouldn’t ask,” she said. Seeing that hint of a smile on his smooth face, she added, “We’ll hang a sheet between us for privacy.”
    Annabelle sprang down from the wagon to stand beside him. “That’s a washtub,” she said, sniffing the air loudly. “I suppose you cowboys wouldn’t know about those.”
    He stood back to allow her to pass.
    â€œI suppose I better check on Father before somebody gets hurt,” she said, leaving him by the wagon. She wondered if he would follow her and wasn’t surprised when he called after her. “Weren’t you going to store these boxes someplace?”
    She turned to see him nudging the candles with a boot.
    Oh, blazes. Annabelle trudged past him, avoiding his gaze. She sighed as she looked in the back of the wagon, still uncertain where the boxes would fit.
    Josey Angel hovered, like some kind of sad-faced puppy. “I guess I best be going.” Annabelle didn’t even bother to look at him. “The Colonel wants to be in town when the general returns.”
    â€œGeneral?” Annabelle’s stomach fluttered.
    â€œThat’s right. He’s due back from his inspection of the forts. I think he’s staying at your hotel. There’s a party planned for him tonight, and the Colonel hopes to hear news about the trail.”
    Annabelle didn’t hear anything more the scout said. She steadied herself against the dresser in the wagon, her head