He took the mare mule's harness from his horse and put the saddle back
on. Barbara came from behind the wagon and Joe looked wonderingly at
her. There had been tears, but there weren't any now. She walked
straight, her shoulders braced as Tad braced his. Joe had a curious
feeling that he no longer knew this lovely youngster. She had left
Missouri a young girl; now she was a young woman. Joe knew suddenly
that she would never again throw herself, sobbing, into his arms. She
had learned to cope with her own fears and heartbreaks. There was a
touch of almost wifely solicitude in her voice.
"You be careful, Ellis."
"Don't you be worrying about me."
"Here." Joe took out his wallet. "You'll need money."
"I've got some."
He kissed Barbara, mounted, and set off down the Trail.
Joe watched him go, and as the young figure sitting jauntily astride his
horse disappeared over the horizon Joe knew a twinge of apprehension. If
Ellis found a mule pretty soon, he'd likely bring it back. But if he had
to go very far, and a mule was too hard to find, and if he came upon
some other traveling family in which there was a pretty girl and he
received a warm invitation or a good offer--No, no, Joe told himself.
Ridiculous. Ellis was made of better stuff than that. And then, in order
to reassure himself, he turned to Barbara and said, "He'll be back,
Bobby."