was that possible? She was a widow. Surely she’d noticed her husband walking by now and then.
Maybe he was shy and they only did it in the dark. But then the husband would have missed seeing her body so nicely rounded in all the right places.
To top off Trapper’s confusion, she seemed to think this whole thing was his fault. All he’d done was stand in the rain and look.
She’d told him to forget about what he saw, but that would take a shotgun blast to the head.
He decided he’d try forgetting one part of her at a time. Those round breasts, just right for his hands to hold. Her hips, so nicely curved. Her waist so tiny. He’d lifted her and never guessed how small it was. And, her legs with the thin material hiding nothing.
This wasn’t working, he decided. Maybe he should start with her toes. They were muddy. They’d be easy to forget. In fact, he didn’t even remember them now. Maybe this was working.
No. He hadn’t even looked down to her toes. There were too many other body parts.
Trapper tried to act normal, but that was impossible. Every time he looked in her direction, he pictured her nude. He thought of how the silk had bunched up between her breasts and how it indented at her belly button.
Maybe if she’d take off her clothes again, he’d think about her with clothes on, but he doubted she’d go along with the idea.
As it got darker, Number Five crawled up in his lap. She patted his chest and said, “Night, Tapper,” then went to sleep.
Trapper saw Number One and the oldest Miller boy walk over near the trees and stand so close to each other they were almost touching. He told himself he’d go stand between them if they got any closer.
How was it he felt so old one minute and so young the next? When he’d been the Miller boy’s age, he’d been riding through enemy territory with a midnight sky as his only companion. He hadn’t even tried to keep up with what day it was. He figured he had too few days left to worry about it.
As they walked back to their wagon, Trapper wished he could have some time alone with Emery, but that wasn’t happening. She climbed up in the wagon and helped the girls settle down to sleep. It had been a long day and they were all tired.
Trapper found enough dry wood to build a fire. With the low-hanging fog, no one would notice the smoke so he felt safe tonight, but he couldn’t sleep. The vision of Emery standing in the rain was now carved on the back wall of his brain.
At dawn he was grumpy, but the girls didn’t notice. The sun was out and the storm seemed forgotten. Emery wanted to spend the morning washing clothes in the creek and cooking up a few meals. “The girls need a bath,” she said. “We can’t go into town looking this way.”
Trapper thought they looked fine. All the girls except Emery looked like they’d been rolling in the mud, but that wasn’t unusual to see in little farming towns. He decided to saddle Midnight and ride ahead to make sure there were no problems around the bend. By noon he backtracked to make sure they were not being followed.
All was clear.
When he returned, Emery had fish cooking along with a pot of beans. The Millers came to supper and added cobbler to the meal. They talked of living near Dallas.
Trapper saw the widow yawning a few times and wondered if she’d had as much trouble sleeping as he had. She was in the wagon by the time he waved goodbye to the Millers, so he had no chance of a good-night kiss on the cheek.
At dawn the next morning, the girls helped him pull the wagon out of the trees and they were once again headed west. The Millers said they’d wait another day, but Trapper feared he’d lost too much time already. His goal was to get the girls home by Christmas, but he feared if more bad weather hit, he might not make it.
Once they were rolling, the girls were singing in the wagon and Emery was sitting beside him, so he thought he’d try to talk to her. “The girls look good with their hair in braids.”
She smiled. “All but Eliza.”
“Eliza. Who is Eliza?” Trapper asked.
The little widow smiled. “Trapper, you do know they have names.”
“Of course,