Twenty Eight

It took two more days to get home at our slow pace, little between us changing. Mamma must have been on the lookout because as soon as Al's horse crested the knoll overlooking our yard I hear her disbelieving shout.

"Frank! Frank, she's home!"

They came running, my mother's face wet with tears, Frank's tight with relief as they both somehow folded me into loving hugs at once. It was easier to lie limp than resist considering the pain I was still in.

"I reckon I'll get back to work, Boss," Al was untying the straps of the travois from his saddle. "She'll be alright."

"Baily, I won't forget this-" Frank stood but Al shook off his words.

"I'd rather you did." Setting his heels to his horse's flanks he was racing off in a cloud of dust, leaving me to my relieved and overjoyed parents.