A Daughter's Quest (16 page)

He loped across the meadow, being careful not to step into any of the holes. “I could ask you the same question.” He gestured toward one of the pockmarks. “Why have you been digging here?”

Constance heaved a deep sigh, seeming to consider how to answer. During the lull, he reached her side. He had to grip his hands into fists to keep from reaching out to her; then he thrust his fingers into his back pockets.

She stared at him a long moment before answering. “Come sit down on the porch with me. I’ll feel more comfortable talking to you there.” She turned and led the way.

After she sat, he dropped down onto the wooden porch but not too close to her. He wanted to keep his wits about himself, and being too near Constance would muddle his thoughts. “What are you going to talk about?”

She turned her head and stared off into the distance. “I know you’ve been really helpful to me. …”

After her words faded off, he waited. Surely she had more to say.

“I guess you want to know the real reason I’m looking for Jim Mitchell.”

He nodded, then realized she couldn’t see his movement from there.
“Ja.”

How could Constance tell her story without Hans getting the wrong impression of her father? She was tired of hiding things from Hans. Maybe the absolute truth would be best in this circumstance. She turned to look at him, and his intense scrutiny almost crumbled her defenses.

“I told you that my father made me promise to find Jim Mitchell.”

“Ja.”
He nodded again. “I remember.”

The way he said it, she felt that his memories contained more than her comment about the promise. What if he was also remembering the moment in the mercantile? Heat crept into her cheeks, so she turned back to study a flock of birds heading north in the intense blue sky.

“It’s kind of a long story.”

“I have plenty of time.” His tone held finality.

Constance knew she would have to tell him everything, even if it meant that Hans wouldn’t trust her…or like her… anymore. “My father was a good man. He came back from the war changed. I don’t think he ever got over it before he died.” She glanced back at Hans. He didn’t look disgusted yet.

“Ja. I’ve seen other men who were affected by the fighting.” Hans lifted a foot onto the edge of the porch and leaned an arm on his upraised knee.

“I didn’t know about any of this until he was dying. That’s when he extracted the promise from me.”

Constance didn’t know why it was so hard to talk about what happened. She should just blurt it out. She had spent enough time with Hans to know that he was an honorable man. He would understand. She studied his hand that hung in the air. Maybe not looking at his face would make it easier.

“While they were together in the fighting, my father worked out a plan to steal a gold shipment from the Union soldiers.” After that sentence, she ventured a glance at his face.

Hans shifted until he could lean back against the post holding up the roof of the porch. “I heard about that shipment being stolen. Is that what you’re looking for?”

Disappointment wrinkled his brow, and she winced.

“Yes, but not for the reason you’re probably thinking. You see, my father didn’t take part in the robbery. He was a Christian. He said the war made him forget for a while, but he couldn’t go through with the plan, and he thought he had convinced Jim Mitchell not to do it, either.”

A look of relief softened Hans’s expression. “Then who stole the gold?”

Constance took a deep breath before she continued. “The only person with him when he planned the job was Jim Mitchell, and the robber or robbers carried it out just the way Pa planned it. He was sure Mr. Mitchell did it.”

“And he wanted you to come get his share.” Now disgust colored his tone.

“No!” She was sure he would never believe her, but she might just as well finish the story. “Pa wanted me to tell Mr. Mitchell to give back the gold. Pa had been saving money so he would have enough to travel here and talk to him, but then Pa got sick. Just before he died, he told me where his savings were hidden and made me promise to convince his old friend to do the right thing. I never knew it would be so hard to fulfill that promise.”

After she finished, she sat with her hands clasped in her lap, waiting for his comment, certain this admission would drive Hans away. Why would he want to protect her now? He evidently thought she was part of the whole bad mess.

“So all these holes were looking for the gold.” His statement of the fact sounded almost like a question.

Constance nodded, not even turning her head. “I thought if I could find it and give it back to the government, I would have fulfilled the promise to my father.”

Hans stood and moved in front of her. “Look at me, Constance.”

She complied. With the bright sunlight behind him, she couldn’t read his expression.

“None of this is your fault. You shouldn’t have had to shoulder the burden alone.” He reached out and took her hand in his. “I wish you had told me before. I could have helped you decide what to do.”

With a tug of his hand, he pulled her to stand in front of him. Too close in front of him for her comfort.

“So what do I do now?”

Her question shook him. So did her inquiring gaze. As a man, he wanted to be able to fix everything for her, but how could he take care of all this? Where should he start?

“First let’s get these holes filled. I’ll help you.” He glanced around the clearing, feeling more in control since there was something tangible to accomplish. “Where is the shovel you used?”

“Down by the spring.” For the first time in weeks, her heart felt lighter. “That’s where I have Blaze grazing near the pool.”

Hans went to Blackie and picked up his reins. “Let’s take Blackie, so he can get a drink.”

While they walked, silence stretched between them like a living thing, but he had to come up with a viable solution. If he tried to talk, it would muddle his thoughts. Maybe they should go see the sheriff. Andrew would know the best way for them to handle it. Hopefully, Constance would agree.

The glen in the middle of the woods looked idyllic, like some place from one of the fairy tales his mother read to him and his brothers and sisters when he was a young boy. Sunlight broke through the branches that arched over the spring-fed pool, making the surface sparkle and glisten. This would be a special place to own, yet the farm stood desolate. What a waste. Hans wondered what would happen to the property if the brothers never returned.

Constance went over to Blaze and talked softly to him while Hans watered Blackie.

“I’ll leave Blackie grazing here with Blaze.” He led the stallion to a spot in the tall grasses not far from the other horse; then he picked up the shovel that leaned against a boulder beside the pool, hefted it to his shoulder, and started toward the meadow.

“I wish I had another shovel.” Constance skipped every few steps to keep up with his long stride.

Hans silently berated himself for not noticing sooner. When he shortened his steps, they walked together. He didn’t talk, because he was mulling over all she had told him today.

As they reached the edge of the woods, he stopped and pulled the spade down. “You use this, and I’ll use my hands.”

She turned her eyes toward his face, and they darkened to a deep brown. “I don’t want to make you do that. It’s my fault the holes are there in the first place. I can use my hands.”

He picked up one of hers and laid it on his palm. Such a tiny, dainty thing. Her fingers barely reached the base of his. “It would take you a long time to fill in even one of the places. I can do it easier.”

Hans knew that he should let go of her hand, but it rested against his callused palm, soft and creamy, even after all the work she’d done today. “You take the shovel, Constance.”

When he reluctantly dropped her hand, her expression changed to one of disappointment. It mirrored what he felt. “You start here in the shade. I’ll go out there in the sun. I’m used to it.”

As Hans knelt beside a hole, he glanced back at her. She stood watching him for a moment, then turned to the holes at the bases of the trees. While she scraped the dirt back where it came from, he did the same. He filled a hole, then patted it down, leaving only a little mound that would settle with the next rain.

They worked for a while with just the breeze and forest sounds breaking the silence. Hans felt peaceful accomplishing something for Constance. This was the way a husband and wife would work together. That was what he really wanted, a wife to work alongside him and share everything with.
Lord, You’re going to have to help me with this. Did You bring Constance to Browning City because she is the wife I have prayed for?
That new thought made his heart feel lighter.

“Constance.” His voice sliced through the meadow like an intruder. “We should go talk to the sheriff when we get back to town.”

He glanced at her. She had stopped working and stared at him. “I’m not sure that would be a good thing.”

Hans stood up and brushed his hands on his trousers. “It’s the only thing to do. Andrew Morton is a friend of mine. He’ll give us good advice about all of this.”

She stood the shovel up and clasped both her hands around the handle, staring out across the river. “Since I don’t have any other ideas, I guess you’re right.”

Hans could tell that she wasn’t completely convinced, but it was a start.
Right, Lord?

Constance hadn’t realized just how heavy the burden of the promise had been until she no longer carried it alone. Telling Hans was the smartest thing she had done in a long time. He was an honorable man, wise enough to handle her promise with discretion. Except for the first few minutes when he thought she was telling him that she had come here for the gold, he had been nothing but supportive. And he gave no indication that he thought any less of her father for coming up with the plan to steal the gold. He understood how a man’s outlook could be skewed by the circumstances of a war.

She had become used to having Hans around all the time, and now Constance knew that she really didn’t want that to change, no matter what she felt before. Now that she understood his concern for her, she welcomed it. No one had ever paid that much attention to her needs, not even her parents.

If things were different, maybe there could be a future for the two of them…together. Of course, he didn’t think of her that way, but she could imagine them sharing their lives. Hans was the kind of man Constance wanted to marry. A man who knew how to protect a woman. A man who took charge of things with wisdom. A man with blue eyes that could melt the coldness from any heart, especially hers.

While they finished filling in the holes, all she could do was think about the man who worked in the too-warm spring sunlight, cleaning up her mess. Even in that task, he sheltered her by having her do the easier holes in the shade.

“Constance, are you about finished?” Hans stood over her.

How could such a large man move so silently? She hadn’t known he was near until he spoke her name. Then the sound of his voice wiped everything out of her mind except the fact that he was so close. Heat made its way up her cheeks. She couldn’t remember ever blushing as much as she had since she met this marvelous man.

After giving a final pat with the shovel to the mound of dirt she had scraped together, she stepped back. “That’s the last one.”

Constance ventured a glance at his face, and his smile almost took her breath away. She turned and started through the woods toward the spring.

He moved beside her, matching his steps to hers. “It’ll feel good to get all this dirt off us, won’t it?”

She nodded, hoping he was looking at her. She was afraid that if she spoke again, her voice would tremble, and that would never do. The poor man didn’t need to be burdened with the fact that she felt more for him than a friend should. Probably, that fact would embarrass him and ruin their wonderful friendship.

They got a drink, washed up, and led the horses over to the water for one last time. Hans thought about the last few minutes. He wasn’t sure exactly what had changed between him and Constance, but something had.