“Here, let me,” Becky said in her soft, serene voice, taking the brush from Allison's hand and running it gently through the thick, sunshine-colored mane.
Allison's eyes closed at the tingling sensation in her scalp. She could feel Becky's hand trembling slightly.
“Worried about Dad?” Allison guessed.
“A bit. I hate that he's out there with those train robbers everyone's been talking about lurking in the shadows.” Becky's voice wavered.
“I know,” Allison agreed, “but you know Dad loves his job. If he doesn't drive the train, what is he good for? He's said that enough times. Thank the Lord Mom convinced him to keep his rifle with him.”
“Did you see Wesley today?” Becky asked, changing the subject.
“Hmmmm,” Allison said. Why did you have to bring up Wesley, sis? I don't want to talk ab
