Instead of fear, something else jolted it.
A different kind of anxiety. Jackson trusted her to protect the wagon. She sat straighter. “I can do that. Thank you for trusting me.”
“What’s your real name?” A grim line replaced any smile he might have had.
“I thought we agreed I would be Tiago so there was no confusion.” Was he going to get all manly and protective on her? Riding with Cook might not be about her protecting the wagon, but keeping her locked away.
She glared at him, trying to figure out his motive.
“You know I can help. You don’t have to keep me in a safe place.” She didn’t want to admit that her heart had soared with relief when he had joined her.
“When I saw you across from the warriors, I wanted your real name. What if something does happen? My first thought was...if I have to bury her, I won’t know the name to carve into the marker.” There was an angry clip to the edge of his voice. “I want to know the real you. Not the fake name.”
“I am Santiago. If I die on the trail, that is who you will bury.” Pushing her hat lower, her hands trembled.
He reached across his horse. Under his large hand, hers disappeared. “I will not be burying you on this trail.”
Sofia wrapped the colorful blanket tighter. Weak and tired, her body still refused to go to sleep. There were saddle sores on top of saddle sores.
Images of Rosita in the kitchen making tortillas appeared like a fantasy, a dream from a fairy tale that didn’t really happen.
Now she ate more dust than chow. Unable to sleep, she studied the colors in the woven patterns.
It would be easier to think about the parts of her body that didn’t hurt, maybe her head. That was it. Everything below her jaw ached. She thought she had worked hard before, but she had been a sheltered baby.
The woman who returned to her father would be different from the woman she was before she left.
A quick glace to the loaded rifle laying within reach was evidence of the change. She glanced at the mules, making sure they were still safe.
Still in the harness, they lay on the ground a few yards away from her. She scanned the edge of darkness for any threats.
Today, she had faced the possibility of her own death. She had survived without much of an incident other than going numb with fear.
She hated that she hadn’t known what to do. That Jackson had come to her rescue. Would she have made it back to the wagon if he hadn’t shown up?
Sometime during the week, she started waking up looking forward to seeing him. The chores were done in fast order, and she got the wagon moving quickly so she could ride out and find him.
He sat a horse better than any man she had ever seen, but it was more than that. He was more than a good-looking man that knew how to ride well. At his core, deep in his eyes, he not only understood her, but he needed someone to understand him.
Not that it was where her mind should go. Rubbing her face, she hoped to scrub the thoughts of the quiet talking Kentucky man from her brain.
The sounds of campfire companionship drifted over the night. The men still sat around the low fire, laughing and playing music. The songs were all foreign, not the kind she was used to.
Jackson warned her to keep as much distance as possible from the cowboys. She never felt so alone around other people.
She licked her lips. That was a mistake. So, she hurt above her jaw, too. They had never been so dry and cracked before. The taste of dirt and dust came with every painful breath she took.
She dreamed of riding alongside the longhorns, but instead most of her days were spent sitting next to Cook or going into the wagon and doing prep work for him. The one time she rode off, she got in trouble.
She coughed again. All the dust was never going to clear her lungs.
“Here, drink this.” Jackson stood above her and handed her a metal cup. He tossed something on the ground behind her, but she was more intrigued with the content of his gift. It looked like tea. It smelled like tea.
A small sip confirmed her guess. She sighed as the warm liquid slid down her sore throat.
She moaned. Tea. “Where did you get this? I would trade my kingdom for another cup.”
He just smiled at her, then stared off into the velvet night sky.
“It’s pure bliss.” She closed her eyes and groaned again as she took a slow sip. It was bad manners, but she didn’t care.
Digging in his vest pocket, he pulled out a small tin before lowering his long body on the ground next to her. He draped one arm over his knee and with the other offered the small box. “Here, coat your lips with this. It tastes bitter, but it’ll soothe the skin.”
Too tired to ask questions, she smothered the damaged skin.
Relief. Closing her eyes, she sighed and leaned against the large wagon wheel. “Thank you.” She handed it back to him. As much as she wanted to stash it away, she didn’t want to appear weak and needy.
“You keep it. I always bring two, and if you keep a light layer on during the day, you won’t need as much at night. You should also cover your face. The sun will eat your skin right off your bones.”
“Right now my bones are so sore they wouldn’t notice.” There was a heat to her skin she’d never experienced before. Another pesky insect made a buzzing noise before landing on her face. She slapped at it and got it, leaving a splatter of blood on her hand. Gross.
Taking her hand, he used a bandanna to wipe the bright red stain away. “I hear the closer we get to Louisiana the bigger the mosquitoes get. Soon enough we’ll be able to saddle them and fly over the herd.”
She couldn’t help but laugh. “Now that would be a sight. Driving the herd from the air.” She groaned. “Maybe we could even breathe some fresh air that isn’t heavy with dust. I really don’t know how the bugs are even finding my skin.”
“Cook says we’ll be getting rain soon, which will create a new mess of troubles.”
A star fell from the sky, leaving a trail. “Did you see that?” She pointed. “A falling star. It looks different out here than it does from a porch.”
Scooting down, she lay flat on the ground and studied the endless sky. “Do you think our loved ones are looking down on us?”
“Never really thought about it that way.” A few feet away he stretched out on his back, his hands behind his bare head.
He sighed. Silence lingered between them. The music from the cowboys softened as some moved out to watch the herd. Cook rambled around in the wagon.
“Do you have family back in Kentucky?”
“Not
