The Cowboy Who Saved Christmas - Jodi Thomas Page 0,20
ride bareback to the next trading post if you don’t take the price.”
“Damn. You’re as tough to trade with as your daughter, mister.”
Trapper didn’t correct the old goat.
A few minutes later he told One to drive the wagon, and he rode ahead with Two and Three traveling beside him.
They were not as skilled as Number One at riding, but both could handle their mounts. As the miles passed, he told them how to watch for trouble. How to move leaving fewest footprints on the land. He said they had to feel trouble in their gut before their brains.
As the day aged, he traded places with One and let her ride with her sisters. The only rule was to stay in sight of the wagon, and the three ladies pushed that limit to the edge.
Before sundown they camped.
Emery and the two little ones made biscuits that looked like rabbits as Trapper made sure the older three took proper care of their horses. When he came back to camp, he whispered to Emery that he’d seen Number Three smile twice that day.
The old wool hat was retired to become the cornhusk dolls’ bed.
After supper all the little ladies turned in. Trapper said he’d wake up One at midnight so he could sleep for a few hours.
She nodded. He swore she’d matured these last two weeks. No bedtime stories or songs tonight; the girls were all tired.
Trapper kept the fire low even though the wind was kicking up from the north. He figured if the four riders were looking for them, they would have already been traveling back. Once they passed the trading post, it wouldn’t take long for them to catch up.
Maybe not tonight, but Trapper guessed he’d be seeing them sometime tomorrow. Of course, it was just as likely that the men were simply riding fast toward Jefferson, but Trapper felt they were coming. Gut, not brains.
The next morning he was on edge. The wind was strong, with a bit of snow blowing like sand. All the girls stayed in the back of the wagon except Number One. She and Emery took turns riding shotgun.
By midafternoon the snow increased but still blew sideways from the north. The heavy clouds seemed to boil above them, promising a storm. Trapper ordered everyone inside the wagon as he drove, fighting to see the trail on a ground turning white.
Finally, before dark, he found a ravine about a quarter mile from the trail. It wasn’t much deeper than the wagon was tall, but it would break most of the wind.
Though not perfect, he took the stop knowing that the horses needed rest. His three riders jumped out of the wagon and helped him with the horses. They walked them to the deepest part of the wide ditch. It was too rocky for the wagon, but here the animals were out of the wind, and they found a spot to form a corral.
When they got back, all the girls helped to push the wagon into a pocket in the ravine, taller and longer than the wagon. Trapper chopped down a few branches and small trees to block the one side of wagon that was exposed. The barrier might not keep out all the wind, but it would help.
Emery had a supper of apples and biscuits with leftover bacon sitting out on a tiny table made of bags. They all knew there would be no campfire tonight. They’d eat in the wagon.
Halfway through the meal, Number Five stood up and said that Tapper was staying inside with them tonight. It was too cold to sleep out, even if he did have a P-gun and didn’t need the chamber pot.”
He was the only one who blushed. The others all laughed.
“I never knew little girls thought of such things.”
“We’ve seen them on babies,” Three announced. “You take off their clothes and the pee gun shoots up like a fountain.”
Two added, “Don’t boys think things about girls?”
“We are not having this conversation.” If he got any redder, he’d be stepping out in the blowing snow. He sat on the bench by the back opening that was now draped with the girls’ dresses. Looking down at all of them settling in, he felt like an eagle watching over his nest of chicks.
Emery moved over to sit beside him. He wrapped his blanket and his arm around her. She spread her blanket over their knees.