Vow Unbroken by Caryl Mcadoo

Once the wagon’s wheels pulled out onto the far bank, she remembered to breathe. She faced her daughter, who climbed up beside her in the nick of time to celebrate Henry’s crossing. “Yes!” Sue patted her chest repeatedly and sighed. “That seemed easy enough.”
    Becky stood on the seat and clapped her hands above her head. “Yay! You did it! Hooray for Mister Henry! Hooray for Levi!”
    Sue looked up at her daughter and joined the celebration. “Whoopee!”
    Becky’s smile spread over her face like bluebonnets on the Texas prairie in April. She beamed. “Mister Henry can do anything.”
    â€œOh, you think so?”
    â€œYes, ma’am, he surely can.” Becky sat down and straightened her skirt. “But I remembered not to hurt Levi’s feelings and hollered for him, too, at the last.”
    â€œThat was certainly nice of you. I’m proud you remembered.”
    â€œYes, ma’am, but I’m sure Mister Henry didn’t need any help from him. Most likely, he did it all by himself. He can”—Becky looked up and nodded like the little priss she was—“do anything!”
    Sue wanted to argue with her daughter, and tried to think of something he couldn’t do, but she couldn’t come up with a single thing. Maybe he could do whatever he set his mind to. The first wagon stopped on the ridge of the far bank. She clucked the mules to life. “Hey, now.” She snapped the reins, and the wagon lurched forward. She would have preferred a bit more speed, but the wooden wheels knifed into the water and kept on rolling.
    She prayed all the way across and encouraged the team until she pulled onto the opposite bank, climbed it, then stopped a bit past the first wagon.
    Henry smiled on her way by. “Well done.”
    â€œThank you, sir.” She looked to the sky. “And thank You, Lord.”
    After a hundred yards or so, she topped the next ridge, and her heart skipped a beat. The wagon with the broken axle sat on the bank of the second branch of White Oak Creek, a ghoulish reminder of her friends and neighbors’ failed crossing. It taunted her jubilance and screamed of doom. Her mouth went dry, and all smiles vanished. She stopped the mules and locked the brake.
    Henry pulled up next to her. “The old-timer said this was the bad one, deeper water and not a lot of bottom. This is why the train turned back and took the ferry.”
    Sue tore her eyes away from the water and looked at him. “Did the old man mention how we might get across?”
    â€œClaims there’s a rock path.” He jumped down and extended his hand. “Want to help me find it?”
    She took his hand, steadied herself, then stepped down. For a second, he didn’t let go. A tingling danced up her arm, but she pulled away, extinguishing the sensation before it reachedher heart. She had no time for entanglements now, and especially not with Henry Buckmeyer—or did she? “Guess we need to get wet again.”
    Unlike the first branch of the creek, these beds had holes filled with deep mud. Henry crossed back and forth, as did Sue, time and again. In one spot, she stepped onto a thin layer of rocks. “Over here. Check this out,” she called.
    He walked back and forth over the area she’d found, sloshing through the water several times, then across from one bank to the other as many times. “It’s the best we’ve found.”
    She hated the thought of trying to cross it, but gave herself no choice. She definitely did not want to go back to Cuthand then all the way to Ringo’s Landing. But if she didn’t get her cotton to market, all her hard work and cash spent would be for nothing. Without the cotton money, it’d be doubtful she could even survive another year, certainly not with hers and Levi’s land intact.
    She faced Henry, who wore a grim expression. “What do you think?”
    He