With a bonnet on her head she walked next to the creaky wagon. Her husband was guiding the mules over the long, open stretches. The two older boys walked on the other side of the wagon out just a little ahead. They watched for the incessant prairie dog holes. One misstep into those holes and a mule could be crippled.
The two toddler daughters were napping on a pile of quilts in the wagon bed. Her youngest son sat next to his father. The child seemed dazed in the hot, glaring sun. She knew it was time for him to get into the wagon bed, also. But her husband insisted it would just make him a sissy.
Still watching her son, the woman failed to notice the pesky hole. In an instant she was on the ground in excruciating pain. The mules and wagon were pulled to a halt. The sons and husband came running. The day's progress had to be stopped till the badly sprained ankle could be wrapped. With no trees in sight, the broom stick sufficed for a cane. Once more the journey continued. But for a while the youngest son had sat in the shade of the wagon.
no shade trees
the never ending prairie
one cloud's shadow
© petra domina
Thanks to Chèvrefeuille for daily prompts on