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Authors: Marcia Lynn McClure
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heavy frown.
“Let’s start with a little outin’. Today,” he said, “I told Weston to meet us here just before noon. Follow my lead, Rivers. That’s all I ask. Follow my lead for a few days, and then ya can be on your way and rid of me.”
“Ya look pale, Rivers,” Jolee said as she sat next to Rivers in the wagon later that morning. “Ya feelin’ okay?”
Rivers forced a smile and nodded. “It’s nice to get out, isn’t it?” she said, trying to change the course of the conversation.
“Oh, yes. This’ll be so fun. Just the four of us,” Jolee sighed. “Paxton so rarely allows himself any relaxin’ time lately.” Jolee looked up, shading her eyes from the sun. “It’s a little cloudy though. I don’t know. We might get wet out here.”
“We might,” Rivers mumbled. She was certain her heart had tried to quit beating. She felt cold, lonely, empty. Glancing up at Paxton, however, she knew she would not simply fade away, for the hammering in her chest at the sight of him reminded her that the broken heart beats on.
Paxton halted the team and helped Rivers down from the wagon as Weston assisted Jolee. Just the simplest touch, the feel of her hand in his, caused Rivers’s flesh to erupt into goose bumps. She wondered how she would endure life without such thrilling sensations to experience.
“Rivers has never seen the writin’ on the rocks over here, Weston,” Paxton remarked.
“It’s purty interestin’ if ya ask me, Rivers. How the Indians made pictures on the rocks and now we can look at ’em and try and figure what they were wantin’ to say,” Weston agreed, taking Jolee’s hand and leading her toward a nearby rock formation.
“It looks like rain,” Rivers commented.
“Naw, them clouds is just threatenin’. They won’t do nothin’,” Weston assured her.
“You look like a sick puppy, Rivers,” Paxton whispered in her ear as they followed Weston and Jolee.
“Forgive me. I’m not comfortable lying to my friends,” Rivers snapped.
“You’re right. I guess Jolee wasn’t your friend yet when ya showed up on the front porch askin’ for work and lookin’ like a boy,” Paxton snapped in response.
“You’re being cruel to me, Paxton,” Rivers said, painful emotion rising within her.
“This here’s my favorite,” Weston called over his shoulder, motioning for Paxton and Rivers to join him and Jolee. “See here,” he explained. “This looks like a family to me. Ya see a man, a woman, then some children added in.” He smiled flirtatiously at Jolee, and Rivers reached out to touch the markings with her own hand.
“It’s lovely,” she said. “I wonder what they made these with. You would think they would’ve worn away by now.”
“I’m glad they haven’t,” Weston commented. “I’ve always found all this interestin’.”
Rivers glanced up at Paxton to find his gaze firmly affixed on her. She uncomfortably cleared her throat and moved to a different impression on a nearby stone.
“That ol’ tree is around here somewhere, ain’t it, Paxton?” Weston asked a few moments later.
“What ol’ tree?” Paxton grumbled. Rivers looked to him quickly, recognizing the irritated intonation of his voice.
“Don’t play the dumb dog there, boy,” Weston chuckled. “That ol’ tree everyone carves their names in. Yeah! There it is. Yonder,” he said, pointing to a huge and ancient-looking cottonwood. “Come on, Jo…I’ll show ya.” Taking her hand in his, he led her in the direction of the tree, motioning for Paxton and Rivers to follow.
Paxton paused, seeming determined not to follow. “Come on, you old grumpy Gus,” Rivers prodded, taking Paxton’s hand and tugging on it. Paxton sighed, obviously irritated, but followed. Somehow, Rivers’s curiosity was completely teased. She couldn’t think why he would be so unwilling to look at an old tree with names carved in it. Still, if she was going to endure the kind of heartache their
“Let’s start with a little outin’. Today,” he said, “I told Weston to meet us here just before noon. Follow my lead, Rivers. That’s all I ask. Follow my lead for a few days, and then ya can be on your way and rid of me.”
“Ya look pale, Rivers,” Jolee said as she sat next to Rivers in the wagon later that morning. “Ya feelin’ okay?”
Rivers forced a smile and nodded. “It’s nice to get out, isn’t it?” she said, trying to change the course of the conversation.
“Oh, yes. This’ll be so fun. Just the four of us,” Jolee sighed. “Paxton so rarely allows himself any relaxin’ time lately.” Jolee looked up, shading her eyes from the sun. “It’s a little cloudy though. I don’t know. We might get wet out here.”
“We might,” Rivers mumbled. She was certain her heart had tried to quit beating. She felt cold, lonely, empty. Glancing up at Paxton, however, she knew she would not simply fade away, for the hammering in her chest at the sight of him reminded her that the broken heart beats on.
Paxton halted the team and helped Rivers down from the wagon as Weston assisted Jolee. Just the simplest touch, the feel of her hand in his, caused Rivers’s flesh to erupt into goose bumps. She wondered how she would endure life without such thrilling sensations to experience.
“Rivers has never seen the writin’ on the rocks over here, Weston,” Paxton remarked.
“It’s purty interestin’ if ya ask me, Rivers. How the Indians made pictures on the rocks and now we can look at ’em and try and figure what they were wantin’ to say,” Weston agreed, taking Jolee’s hand and leading her toward a nearby rock formation.
“It looks like rain,” Rivers commented.
“Naw, them clouds is just threatenin’. They won’t do nothin’,” Weston assured her.
“You look like a sick puppy, Rivers,” Paxton whispered in her ear as they followed Weston and Jolee.
“Forgive me. I’m not comfortable lying to my friends,” Rivers snapped.
“You’re right. I guess Jolee wasn’t your friend yet when ya showed up on the front porch askin’ for work and lookin’ like a boy,” Paxton snapped in response.
“You’re being cruel to me, Paxton,” Rivers said, painful emotion rising within her.
“This here’s my favorite,” Weston called over his shoulder, motioning for Paxton and Rivers to join him and Jolee. “See here,” he explained. “This looks like a family to me. Ya see a man, a woman, then some children added in.” He smiled flirtatiously at Jolee, and Rivers reached out to touch the markings with her own hand.
“It’s lovely,” she said. “I wonder what they made these with. You would think they would’ve worn away by now.”
“I’m glad they haven’t,” Weston commented. “I’ve always found all this interestin’.”
Rivers glanced up at Paxton to find his gaze firmly affixed on her. She uncomfortably cleared her throat and moved to a different impression on a nearby stone.
“That ol’ tree is around here somewhere, ain’t it, Paxton?” Weston asked a few moments later.
“What ol’ tree?” Paxton grumbled. Rivers looked to him quickly, recognizing the irritated intonation of his voice.
“Don’t play the dumb dog there, boy,” Weston chuckled. “That ol’ tree everyone carves their names in. Yeah! There it is. Yonder,” he said, pointing to a huge and ancient-looking cottonwood. “Come on, Jo…I’ll show ya.” Taking her hand in his, he led her in the direction of the tree, motioning for Paxton and Rivers to follow.
Paxton paused, seeming determined not to follow. “Come on, you old grumpy Gus,” Rivers prodded, taking Paxton’s hand and tugging on it. Paxton sighed, obviously irritated, but followed. Somehow, Rivers’s curiosity was completely teased. She couldn’t think why he would be so unwilling to look at an old tree with names carved in it. Still, if she was going to endure the kind of heartache their
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