He climbed onto the wagon and sat on its edge.
He eyed the space beside her on the wagon seat suspiciously.
The wagon groaned into a slow roll.
She watched him climb stiffly into his wagon and knew a moment of sadness when she remembered that before long she would be leaving and she would never see him again.
The wagon strained forward.
She climbed into her wagon and dropped onto the hard seat.
He bought some battery powered lights to hang on the wagon and Gerald helped him pile hay on the wagon.
Tucking a wayward strand of curly brown hair back into her bun, she replaced her hat and wrapped the lead lines around the wagon break.
They brought the remains down in a wagon this afternoon.
Or maybe driving the family wagon in for supplies or . . .
He let the wagon pull ahead and crossed behind it, speeding up to reach the seat from the other side.
He gave the horse enough room to walk away from the wagon and then tied the rope to the wagon.
Turning it up side down, she slapped it against the side of the wagon wheel.
She scrambled from underneath the wagon and hastily threw her blankets under the seat.
With a final glance at the approaching figures, she dropped from the wagon seat and sauntered over to join the men at the cook fire.
Of course, even a greenhorn could follow the wagon tracks they would leave in the sand.
She watched for soft areas where a wagon might get stuck.
Since each wagon had three teams of horses, that could become time consuming - and time was their enemy.
Pulling his Winchester from a boot attached to the side of the wagon, he walked toward her.
She slapped her hat back on to hide the color in her cheeks and scrambled onto her wagon seat.
He had guided wagon trains across Indian Territory and battled the Cheyenne.
She peered out from under her wagon and found the smiling face of Bordeaux.
Now there's a sight I thought I'd never live to see - someone hitching up your wagon while you're fixin' breakfast.
Bordeaux helped her up on her wagon seat and she smiled down at him.
There was already a sizable gap between her wagon and the one in front of her.
The mule lurched forward and the others followed, jerking the wagon into action.
Bordeaux jumped back as her wagon moved to catch up with the others.
That evening, she climbed from her wagon and beat the dust from her clothes with her hat.
She lifted her canteen from the wagon and took a mouthful.
Grabbing an armful of the hay they had packed around the supplies in each wagon, she dropped it on the sand and the mules eagerly began devouring it.
Pulling her blanket from under the wagon seat, she shook it and checked under the wagon for unwelcome guests.
But instead of helping her into the wagon in the same gentlemanly manner, he grabbed her by the collar and waistband and dumped her in the front of the wagon.
They would find someone to drive the wagon back across the desert.
By the time she reached the wagon, the desert was bathed in moonlight.
He watched her for a few minutes while she crawled under the wagon and pulled her blanket around her shoulders, and then he walked away.
Then she headed for her wagon to harness the team.
He shrugged and offered her a hand up to the wagon seat.
Lifting her into strong arms, he deposited her roughly on the wagon seat.
She picked up the lines and worked her wagon behind the rest.
Cassie, pull your wagon up beside Fritz.
Her rifle was leaning against the wagon, within easy reach, and her whip hung near by.
The pace increased until a horse leaped over the wagon tongue and into the circle.
They each went to their assigned wagon and lit a match, tossing it inside the wagon and moving away from the circle almost in unison.
The warrior led her to a wooden wagon, enclosed on all sides except for a small window.
Sometimes through the monotonous waves of men, like a fleck of white foam on the waves of the Enns, an officer, in a cloak and with a type of face different from that of the men, squeezed his way along; sometimes like a chip of wood whirling in the river, an hussar on foot, an orderly, or a townsman was carried through the waves of infantry; and sometimes like a log floating down the river, an officers' or company's baggage wagon, piled high, leather covered, and hemmed in on all sides, moved across the bridge.
As often happens, the horses of a convoy wagon became restive at the end of the bridge, and the whole crowd had to wait.
The Cossack bent forward from under the wagon to get a closer look at Petya.
Perhaps he was really sitting on a wagon, but it might very well be that he was not sitting on a wagon but on a terribly high tower from which, if he fell, he would have to fall for a whole day or a whole month, or go on falling and never reach the bottom.
If one wagon got stuck, the rest would have to stop while one of the other teams was unhitched and added to pull the wagon out.
Pete threw his feet over the wagon seat and dropped to the ground.
Are you going to help me into my wagon today?
Why would I want to see more of the same thing I view from this wagon seat all day?
The structure was just under seventy feet long and about twelve feet high; said to be the height designed to accommodate a wagon fully loaded with hay.
He asked me to drop off his gear at the sag wagon tomorrow morning so it gets hauled to Alamosa on the truck.
Now, however, I see the folly of attempting to hitch one's wagon to a star with harness that does not belong to it.
"What a fine fellow you are, friend!" said the Cossack to a convoy soldier with a wagon, who was pressing onto the infantrymen who were crowded together close to his wheels and his horses.
Perhaps it was just the Cossack, Likhachev, who was sitting under the wagon, but it might be the kindest, bravest, most wonderful, most splendid man in the world, whom no one knew of.
Detective Dean might have been on a roll, but his wagon had suddenly come to a stop.
Dean's gear was now being transported by sag wagon like everyone else's.
She walked slowly around the wagon, admiring his handiwork, and finally glanced up at his face.
Vara would do as he asked and saw the ends off the poison-tipped arrows, claim she'd fallen ill, and hide her body in the wagon until it was time to act.
Even Alex participated in the last-minute planning, finding a wagon and harnesses.
The sun was casting its last orange rays into the sky when they all loaded onto the wagon and headed into the field.
With the soldier, an infantry officer with a bandaged cheek came up to the bonfire, and addressing Tushin asked him to have the guns moved a trifle to let a wagon go past.
Two horses were tied up and there was a wagon and mule at the end of the street.
I had a video of it but some jerk ripped it off my shopping wagon in Pittsburgh.
She obeyed and lowered herself to the floor a moment before the wagon jarred into motion.
They traveled until the wagon grew hot.
Alex joined them as they started serving and later drove his truck down and brought the team and wagon up to the footbridge.