Mona Hodgson - [Hearts Seeking Home 01] (11 page)

“After supper last night, your father”—Caroline glanced at Mrs. Kamden—“your son, went over Captain Cowlishaw’s morning regimen.” She pulled her bonnet on and tied it at her chin. “I suggest we get moving, if we hope to have time for breakfast before Mr. Boney starts this circus parade.”

Mrs. Kamden giggled. A reaction Caroline would have expected of the children.

Muted light glowed through the oiled canvas. Could well have been a full moon, but the horn blows meant dawn was breaking.

Maisie jerked away from Lyall. “Did you do that?”

“What?”

“Boy stink!”

“It’s that stupid rabbit you carry around.”

Maisie clutched her flop-eared cloth treasure. “Is not.” Maisie started to cry.

“You did it, Lyall. I heard you.” Davonna Kamden pulled her quilt over her head, which was still planted on a feather pillow.

Not knowing what else to do, Caroline slid off the trunk. This would be
her first full day with the family, and it was off to a confusing start. Had Ian Kamden brought her along to be the nanny for his children or his mother?

Right now, it seemed both would require her constant attention.

A steaming tin mug of coffee in hand, Garrett stood at the edge of camp, surveying the activity and order of things in first light. Isaac had blown the horn just fifteen minutes ago and in an instant, various families started stirring. Men lit small cookfires and harnessed their teams. Women milked their cows and pulled pots and pans from their wagon boxes. Children hauled buckets of water up from the creek while tending to their younger siblings.

According to his trail hands, everyone did fine yesterday. Most were used to walking, but he’d heard a few children complain about sore feet and legs. Lyall Kamden came to mind, and so did his resourceful nanny. Especially the smile that lit her face when he’d surprised her with the mint for a poultice. She’d called it a bouquet.

He gave his head a shake. He best not be thinking about her or he’d never get anything done.

Garrett looked over at Dr. Le Beau’s wagon. Remembering Caleb Reger’s nickname for the Frenchman, he chuckled.
Le Doc
. Caleb was a puzzle. His dry sense of humor seemed to battle a serious vein that ran deep. Maybe dangerously deep. Sometimes, Caleb was as intense as a soldier pinned down behind a berm. That had been the case when he’d confronted Miss Goben in Heinrich’s Dry Goods store and accused her of gloating.

Apparently, the young man’s intensity had flared again yesterday. Tiny had told Garrett about the way Caleb had ridden out to Miss Goben and Miss Pemberton like a sentry at a guard post. Garrett shook his head. He wished he knew what was eating the young man, but he couldn’t get much of anything out of him. A good reason to pair him with Isaac.

Le Doc waved, drawing Garrett’s attention.
“Bonjour, mon capitaine!”

Garrett doffed his hat in a greeting then continued his survey. The three Zanzucchi boys crossed the meadow, hauling buckets of water to their oxen. The Rengler brothers pulled down the canvas tent strung from a rope between their wagon and a tree. Mary Alice Brenner, the twins tottering at her side,
carried her baby girl to the campfire they shared with Rutherford and Maren Wainwright.

He took a generous gulp of hot coffee. All the wagons and animals had performed well. So far, the only wagons he’d seen lagging belonged to Ian Kamden. He looked at the farm wagon Caroline Milburn managed with the elder Mrs. Kamden. Duff, Lyall, and Maisie spilled out over the seat of the wagon and down the wheel. Caroline followed them out at a slower pace.

As much as he found his youngest trail hand puzzling, he found the young widow to be fascinating. He couldn’t think of another woman who would be so determined to go west on her own that she would travel with a passel of strangers to do so.

“Hey, Boss.” His youngest trail hand carried a book and was swinging a doused candle lantern. Caleb glanced over his shoulder in the direction Garrett had been staring, his mouth curled in a grin. “If I was prone to gamble, I’d bet you are sweet on the nanny.”

Tipping his head, Garrett looked at Caleb. “If we’re gonna talk about such matters, we’ll need to discuss that doe-eyed face of yours last night when you spotted Miss Goben at our camp.”

Caleb gulped, glancing at the Bible he held. “Like I said before, Boss, it don’t matter if you stare at the widow. Just so long as you don’t get all atwitter and propose marriage to her.”

Thankfully, Caroline had been too busy herding children to notice, but Garrett did need to divert his attention from the comely redhead. He glanced at the Gobens’ wagon, where Otto’s granddaughter was hanging a pail from a hook by the water barrel. “The same goes for you then.”

“You needn’t worry.” The young man sighed like he carried the weight of the world on his broad shoulders. “I won’t be marrying anyone.”

There was that shadow that followed Caleb around like a storm cloud. Garrett waved his coffee mug toward the Bible. “You read that?”

“I do.”

“Good.” Garrett looked over at Le Doc’s wagon where the Le Beau boys shinnied up a tree, reminding him of the squirrels from yesterday. “You can read a passage before we pull out this morning.”

Caleb lifted his chin, his brown eyes wide. “I can’t.”

“You can’t read?” Garrett scrubbed his bearded chin. “You just said—”

“I can read.” His voice flat, Caleb tucked the Bible under his arm.

“Every morning just before we pull out, you be ready to read a passage—not a long one, mind you. I’ll have someone else do the prayin’, if that’s what’s bothering you.”

“Sir.” Caleb drew in a deep breath. “I’d rather not.”

“I’d rather not tempt calamity, but there’s a good chance we’ll need to face trials at some point in this journey. Don’t you agree that God’s truth can prepare our hearts and bolster our spirits?”

Caleb reluctantly nodded then trudged to their camp.

An obvious attraction to Miss Goben. Confident he’d never marry, though still shy of twenty-two. Read the Bible, but turned white as a blizzard when asked to share what he read.

A puzzling young man, for sure.

Wednesday night Anna startled awake. Her hammock swayed, strung between an oak and a hook on the side of the wagon. She’d heard something in the distance but couldn’t tell what.

Rubbing her eyes, she looked up into the dark night and squinted to focus her vision. The crescent moon offered enough light to show a clear sky. No hint of lightning or thunder. The company had come through a little berg called Warrenton that afternoon and were camped near a creek. Maybe some hunters or other travelers had set up camp nearby.

Now that she was awake, she heard only sounds she recognized—Großvater’s stumbling snore, frogs croaking in the creek, and the incessant chirp of crickets from a few feet away.

Most likely, she’d been dreaming. Whether of walking mile after mile or hearing Caroline’s story about the captain bringing her a bouquet of mint for a poultice or falling on her backside in front of Caleb Reger. They had all taken the stage in her sleeping thoughts.

“Bear!”

“A bear!”

Both were women’s voices. Not far down the line.

Her heart pounding, Anna rolled from the hammock, tugging her
dressing gown free. A rifle blast split the night, and heavy footfalls pounded the ground in the direction of the screams.

“Make noise!” Trail hands’ voices, repeating the order, ran by.

The wagon creaked and groaned. Mutter was on the move too.

“There’s a bear in camp, Mutter. Stay inside,” Anna called.

Mutter hung out the puckered opening in the canvas. “
Vater! Mein vater
. Where is he?”

“Right here, Wilma.” Großvater scuttled toward them. Huffing and puffing, he scooped a stick off the ground and yanked the bean pot from its hook on the side of the wagon. Whistling louder than she’d ever heard him, he banged on the pot.

Anna joined Mutter on the seat and struck tin plates with spoons, shouting until the other noises began to fade.

“They’re quieting down,” Großvater said. “Must have chased him out of camp.”

Anna dropped the plate and spoon to her lap, sighing in unison with Mutter. “It’s over.”

“Is it?” Her hands shaking, Mutter tugged a blanket up to her neck. “Someone could be hurt. Or worse.”

“You folks all right?” Caleb Reger’s voice rose as he stepped into view. “Otto, you here?”

“Yes.” Großvater walked into the faint glow of the firepit.

Anna pulled the other corner of Mutter’s blanket over her shoulder. The disconcerting trail hand held up a candle lantern. Why did it have to be him? A rifle rested against his left shoulder. “Ladies?”

“We’re all fine.” Anna clasped her hands to stop the shaking. “Thank you.”

“Thank God.” Caleb sighed.

“The bear?” Großvater leaned on the wheel. “What happened? Everyone else safe?”

“Our furry guest took a grub box from the Kamdens’ table.”

Anna and Mutter both gasped. “Caroline? The children?”

“Shaken up but unharmed. The doctor is with Mr. Kamden’s mother, Davonna. She heard the growl and caught the vapors. Seems fine now. We’ll need to check on the livestock. May have to round some of them up in the
morning before we can head out.” Mr. Reger tilted sideways, glancing at the back of the wagon. “If you have any food in that box, we’ll need to hang it from a tree. Away from the wagon.”

They didn’t. But a box of food wasn’t all that could make them vulnerable on this trip. Großvater and his weakened constitution. Mutter and her attraction to the bottle. Back in Saint Charles, the captain had warned them of the dangers of the journey, but none of them had seemed real to Anna. Until now.

She wondered suddenly if the hope and new life waiting for them at the end of this journey were worth the risks it would take to get there.

C
aleb sat in the middle of his bedroll, the graying sky offering a hint of the coming dawn. He draped a wool blanket over his shoulders and rested his forearms on his knees.

The captain expected him to read from Scripture this morning. In front of the entire Company. As if he had authority, or even the right, to do so. Garrett wanted him to share some sort of word from God for their day, an encouragement for their journey.

Now all he had to do was decide what that would be, and pretend God wasn’t being silent. Or at least hope that even if He had nothing to say to Caleb, God would answer the needs of the others. Davonna Kamden came to mind. As did Anna Goben. She slept outside. She could’ve been killed by the bear last night.

“Mornin’, Mister Caleb.” Isaac rose from the ground. He was already a big man, but as a silhouette in the early morning hours, he seemed to block out the sky.

“Mornin’, Isaac. You get any sleep?”

“Not more than three or four winks.” He rolled his blankets. “You, sir?”

“About the same.”

“Kept hearin’ that bear. Seein’ him makin’ off with the Kamdens’ grub. Not too proud to admit the whole thing had me feeling, well, a lot like that poor woman.”

“Faint?”

“Yessir.”

A chuckle escaped before Caleb could stop it.