nudged the girl gently with his elbow.
“Howdy.”
Vanessa barely heard the girl’s greeting, but she leaned forward in the saddle so she could look into her face. “Hello, Mary Ben. I’m Vanessa. We’ll get acquainted later.”
“It’d be good to water the teams afore we make camp.” The old man’s eyes moved constantly, scanning the area on each side of the trail.
“Have you been over this trail before?”
“Once or twice. If yo’re willin’ to press on there’s a openin’ to the river on ahead where we can drive down, then it’d be best to back off aways ’n make camp.”
“All right. I’m glad you’re with us, Mr. Wisner.”
Vanessa rode ahead and told Henry and Ellie the plan, then watched for John Wisner’s signal to turn toward the river.
* * *
It was almost dark by the time they made camp and staked out the stock. The prairie grass was pale gold in the dusky light, and there was the smell of the sun-ripened grass and cool river water on the breeze that came from the south. Firelight flickered between the two wagons and soon a trail of wood smoke drifted upward and bacon sizzled in a pan.
Mr. Wisner walked around the end of his wagon with his hand firmly grasping Mary Ben’s arm. The girl had a pained, frightened look on her face, but the determined old man was urging her forward.
“Ma’am,” he said to Ellie, “this here’s Mary Ben.”
Ellie took in the situation at a glance. “Hello, dear,” she said as she continued working. “Now, if you’ll give us room around this fire, Mr. Wisner, Mary Ben and I will have some supper ready in no time at all. Mary Ben, fetch that plate from the table and dish up this bacon. I’ll fry us a mess of eggs tonight. I’ve got to use them up before they get too old.”
The old man backed off. He watched anxiously for a moment, then went to his wagon. He returned with a large-mouthed crock with a cork stopper in the top and set it on the table.
“You folks got a likin’ fer honey? Me’n Mary Ben got us a bit awhile back,” he announced shyly.
For the first time in months Ellie didn’t insist on getting out the table and eating on a cloth. She filled a plate for each and they ate hurriedly. Neither the girl nor Henry said a word while Vanessa, Ellie and John Wisner talked of keeping watch through the night. Henry was interested in the dog. He watched it and glanced shyly at the girl. The big yellow dog lay beneath the wagon, his eyes seldom leaving Mary Ben. She sat down on the ground beside him and fed him bits from her plate from time to time.
Henry cleaned his plate, set it on the box where he had been sitting and went to where the girl sat beside the dog. He hunkered down beside them and held out a piece of bacon he’d saved from his own meal. The dog ignored it. The girl reached over and took the meat from his hand. She held it out and the dog carefully took it from her fingers. Henry smiled and reached out to scratch the dog’s ears.
“Don’t touch him,” Mary Ben said sharply.
“Why not? I’ll not hurt him.” The girl glanced at him and then away. “My name’s Henry.” Mary Ben placed her plate on the ground, folded her hands in her lap and looked down at them. “What’s his name?” She didn’t answer. Puzzled and disappointed because she wouldn’t talk to him, Henry asked, “Does he have a name?” Mary Ben twisted her hands in her lap and refused to look at him. Doggedly, he persisted. “I had a dog named Shep, but he was killed in Wichita. If he doesn’t have a name why don’t you call him Shep?”
“His name is Mister.”
“Mister what?”
“Mister nothin’. Just Mister.” She looked at him and Henry smiled.
“I like that. Will he let me pet him?”
Mary Ben continued to look at him, her face still, her eyes large and questioning. He wasn’t like any man she had met before. He was clean and he didn’t grab at her. He seemed to be as unsure of himself as she was, and he was