Joe turned away. Bobby's love and faith shamed him but frightened him,
too. If anything went wrong between Ellis and Barbara--but nothing could
go wrong. Nothing would dare to go wrong. He felt himself fully capable
of wringing Ellis's neck if he were to cause Bobby any unhappiness, and
at the same time he recognized that wringing Ellis's neck was not likely
to insure Barbara's happiness.
Joe set himself to the tasks in hand. "I'll get firewood," he said.
Their meal was a silent and listness one, for the loss of the mare was
deeply felt. For endless miles she had been one of their party, and now
she was no more. She had helped pull the wagon all this way, but she
would not share the home they were to have at the end of the Trail.
Darkness fell. Emma and the children sought their beds in the wagon. But
Joe was restless and he had no wish to sleep. He stood under the
star-dappled sky and let the soft spring wind caress his cheek. The wind
whispered to him and the earth seemed to pulse around him. There were no
other sounds save the cow moving about and the occasional shuffle of the
horse mule's hoofs. He still stood watch over his dead mate and Joe felt
sorry for him. But such things did happen and there was nothing anyone
could do about them. People had to weather their own misfortune and
prove stronger than ill luck, because if they did not they were lost.
Mules, Joe supposed, must do the same.
He sat on the wagon tongue feeling himself in tune with this new land
that he had decided to call home, and knowing it for a good land. Mike
padded up to crouch beside him, and Joe reached out in the star-lit
night to pet the dog.
There came the sound of hoofs from down the Trail and Joe reached inside
the wagon for his rifle. He stood quietly, the rifle ready, and waited
for Mike to bristle or challenge. But the dog remained quiet and Joe
relaxed. An enemy would not approach openly. He heard Ellis's,
"It's me."
He came slowly on his horse, and by the light of the stars Joe saw that
he was leading a black mule. The horse mule called softly, walked to the
end of his rope, and stared. The mule knew what was coming and he would
welcome one of his own kind where he would not tolerate a horse.