laid back the folds to reveal a jumble of items, mostly clothing.
“Not much, I’m afraid. The way I figure it, they must have bundled a bunch of things inside the quilt back at the river and rode ahead a ways before stopping to sort out their takings. They threw out the things they had no need of.”
Maummi leaned over the backrest and gathered up three small crocks. “Spices they left. Tomatoes they took.”
“Men must eat,” Papa said. “Even thieves.”
In the pile in her lap, Emma spied a piece of fabric she recognized, and picked up the white canvas bag with Katie Beachy’s gift inside. The warmth in her chest expanded as she clutched the small piece of home in her hand.
“Well, I’ll leave you folks to sort those things out. I’ll see you in Hays, Jonas.” Luke held the reins in his left hand, and touched the brim of his hat with his right. “Afternoon, ladies.”
With one long searching glance at Emma, during which heat rushed into her face and she could not meet his gaze, he turned his horse and galloped away. Aware that Papa studied her from the side, she purposefully did not look up to follow his progress.
“Of all the things the thieves could have left behind, why didn’t they leave us something useful, like bed linens to protect us from the ground at night?” Rebecca leaned across Papa’s lap and snatched up a piece of clothing. “Instead, they leave this.”
She held the garment up. Horrified, Emma recognized her own set of underclothes. Luke had handled her bloomers! Her face burning, if she could have sunk to the floorboard and covered herself up with the quilt, she would have.
Papa stood. His expression, ever unreadable, was even more blank than usual. Never a good sign, in Emma’s experience.
“I will walk beside the oxen for a while,” he announced.
Emma drew her knees up to let him edge around and hop to the ground. Her face still aflame, she set about folding the miscellaneous clothing piled inside the quilt while Papa urged the oxen into movement, and the wagon lurched forward.
THIRTEEN
Emma hefted her skirt and watched where she placed each foot. Following in the trail of a herd of cattle not only smelled terrible, it made walking a straight path impossible. Her gait resembled that of Mrs. Eicher at a frolic last year before anyone realized the cider had turned hard.
Still, picking a clean path was not a problem when traveling at the painfully slow pace Papa set. The wagon crept along behind her, every creak and crack magnified in the silence that surrounded them. When Emma had climbed down to walk beside Papa an hour back, Rebecca stretched out on the hard bench and drifted off to sleep. Maummi sat in her chair, her head bent over the mending in her lap, her body swaying with the movement of the wagon as the oxen plodded ahead.
Emma was careful to keep any hint of frustration from her tone. “I think the oxen could move a bit faster, Papa.” She glanced sideways, disappointed to see no reaction whatsoever on her father’s face. “At this rate, I fear we won’t see Apple Grove before August.”
“We are not expected before then.” He didn’t turn his head to speak, keeping his eyes fixed forward. “The Millers will mind the farm until our return.”
Emma drew a slow breath into her lungs and willed the anxious knots in her stomach to loosen. Up ahead, Luke’s cattle had dwindled to bug-sized spots of brown on the horizon. If she strained her eyes, she occasionally caught a glimpse of a cowboy or two, riding back and forth across the rear of the herd, but the men in the lead had disappeared behind a swell in the land far beyond. She had lost sight of Luke.
When she could once again trust her voice, she said in a pleasant tone, “If we delay, you’ll miss your meeting with Luke on Wednesday.”
Papa gave no reply but simply continued walking at the frustratingly slow saunter he’d maintained all afternoon.
Maybe she could push him a little. Gathering her skirts a touch higher, she stretched her stride a tiny bit. Not enough to draw comment, but enough that Papa would be forced to speed up in order to keep pace with her, perhaps without noticing.
Within a few minutes, she had pulled ahead of him like a sprinter outpacing a child. A backward glance revealed the same patient, unreadable expression on his face. Her teeth