“Not I,” was the response. “If you choose to follow our fortunes you shall do it, so get your traps, whatever they are, and come along.”
This, Louisa lost no time in doing. Her worldly belongings were packed in two stout bundles standing outside, and with the rest of the goods and chattels they were stowed away in the wagon which was to take them all to their destination.
Many were the westward moving wagons following the roads, some having come all the way from the eastern states, others from no further than the coast, where their owners had landed, and, like the Ross family, were conveying their goods over the last stage of their journey. At the small towns which were come upon at infrequent intervals, the wagoners would stop to help themselves to dipperfuls of tar from the barrels hospitably set out for the newcomers, and many an agonizing creak was thus brought to an end, to the relief of those who for hours had endured the noise of a squeaking wagon.
It was a beautiful open country which the travelers passed through. Even at this season flowers were in bloom, and bees still hummed above them. Herds of deer and wild horses haunted the plains; wild turkeys in great droves frequented the borders of the streams; thickets of prickly pear harbored more dangerous creatures, and the bark of the coyote made the presence of this ubiquitous little creature known even when he was not seen. The wagon in which the girls sat was driven by John Ross, while the others belonging to the party were guided by Mexicans. Neal Jordan and two or three of his comrades accompanied the travelers. True Texas rangers were these hardy fellows, and in buckskins and sombreros, with clanking spurs and long rifles, they looked their character. It gave the girls a sense of security to see these gallant out-riders, for, though the state was at peace, it was necessary for all travelers to be on their guard against the predatory Comanches and Wacos. Especially was this true after the main road was left and the small company turned off towards more isolated settlements.
Christine was as joyous as a maid could be. She and Alison took turns in sitting with John on the front seat, Alison taking the first ten miles by her brother’s side, and Christine the last ten. Louisa was quite content to sit anywhere.
“I shouldn’t wonder if we met up with Steve somewhere hereabouts,” said John, as the last five miles only lay before them.
Christine smiled and murmured: “Two years. Has he changed much, John?” she asked.
“Changed? In what way?” John laughed. “He hasn’t turned gray; neither has he grown decrepit and wrinkled. A man doesn’t alter noticeably in two years. I reckon you’ll be able to recognize him without an introduction. I expect he will have everything in good order for us. I’ll guarantee no one within fifty miles has a better cabin than ours. I don’t know that Steve can calculate to a day when we shall be along, though I reckon he won’t be far out, and we can be looking out for him when we reach Denton; that’s our nearest village and the one you’ll soon be best acquainted with.”
But the village of Denton was reached and no Steve appeared. John stopped to rest his horses, to ladle out a last dipperful of tar for his wheels, and to inquire into the happenings of the little place.
A tall man with a long beard, came out from the building which served as store, post-office and inn. He wore a blue flannel shirt and his trousers were tucked into his boots. “’Light and come in, John,” he said hospitably. “I declar’, yer a sight for sore eyes. How long ye been gone? Come in, all of ye. Mandy ain’t cla’red away yet and we’ll hand ye out somethin’. Got yer fambly in thar?” He peered curiously into the wagon.