Free Walk by Faith by Rosanne Bittner Page B

country.” Zeb spit more tobacco juice. “Ain’t you thought of settlin’ with a good woman? Havin’ a few kids?”
    â€œNot for me. I tried it once. She died. So did the baby.”
    â€œHad me an Indian wife once. She missed her people, so she went back to them. I’m a roamer, you know? I couldn’t stay in one place, and she wanted me to settle with her tribe. So we went our separate ways.” Zeb looked at Dawson. “Me, I’ve always been sort of ugly, and I’m uneducated, except in the ways of a mountain man, you know? I just ain’t the type to be a normal married man like the men on this wagon train. But you, you’re educated, Clements, and a good-lookin’ man, and not all that old yet, either. Army or not, you ought to think about marryin’ again. That there widow woman on this train, she’s a looker, for sure. Now there’s somethin’ you ought to pursue, know what I mean? You ought to at least give it a try. That there is a lot of woman. Seems to me she’s brave, goin’ west without a man of her own. That woman’s got pluck.” He nudged Dawson’s arm. “And maybe she’s lonesome for a man, if you know what I mean. Could make this trip right pleasurable for you,” he ended with a chuckle.
    The remark brought a quick twinge of desire Dawson would rather not have experienced. It awakened his original ire at allowing Clarissa Graham to join this wagon train in the first place. He shook his head. “A woman like that needs the settling-down type who’s willing to work at a real job and provide for his family. I’m just not ready for any of that yet. Might never be.”
    â€œWell, I’d sure give that pretty woman some serious thought. If I was your age and had your looks—”
    â€œDrop it, Zeb. You just tend to your scouting and leave the decisions about the people on this train to me.”
    Zeb spit once more and chuckled again. “Yes, sir, Mr. Clements.” He reached over and untied a blanket from his supplies, then fluffed it up and used it like a pillow, lying down inside the shelter. “I’m gonna try to get some sleep. You’d better do the same.”
    Dawson sat staring at the flickering flames as thunder rumbled in the distance. Again he wondered what the real story was behind Clarissa Graham, wondered why it mattered, and wondered why he hoped she and that little girl of hers were staying dry.

Chapter Ten
    May 10, 1863
    C larissa fought an urge to cry, the desire coming from anger more than despair. She was certain that Dawson Clements had placed her wagon toward the end of the wagon train today so that the muddy places in the trail would be churned up the worst by the time she reached them, making her job harder.
    After waiting a full day after the rain, everyone voted to get going so they could reach the Kansas River ferry crossing and get it over with. The crossing could take the better part of yet another day, as wagons had to be unhitched, the entire train floated across in parts—children, animals, wagons one by one, oxen, women, men and so forth. One ferry could carry only so much.
    They had not even reached the ferry yet, and if her wagon, Carolyn’s wagon and the two that followed them could not get through the current mud bath they trudged, they might not even make the ferry by tonight.
    She switched at the oxen, shouting orders and calling the beasts by their names as it took every effort of each ox to keep the wagon moving through mud that came a good halfway up between the wheel bottom and the hub. She grimaced and tried to keep the hem of her dress lifted, to no avail. Her black leather lace-up shoes made sucking sounds with every step, and it took every ounce of energy to keep up with the oxen, even though they, too, were not moving very fast. She looked ahead to see her bigger, stronger friend Carolyn trudging forward beside her own