Mona Hodgson - [Hearts Seeking Home 01] (39 page)

He had told her the day he kissed her that he had something to tell her, something she needed to know. What if she was wrong not to hear him out?

She squared her shoulders. No.

No matter how desperate she was to believe Mutter could change—that her near-drowning would reform her—there was better chance that Mutter’s struggle would continue. No. She wasn’t judging Caleb. Not really. She just knew that hearing him out wouldn’t make a difference. She couldn’t give her heart to a man she knew would break it time and time again, as Mutter had. He’d make promises he couldn’t keep, regardless of his desire to do so. Because of alcohol.

“Anna?” Hattie laid her hand on Anna’s arm. “I asked if you wanted to walk back to camp with Caleb.”

“I don’t.”

She couldn’t.

S
aturday morning, Anna walked the road with Maren Wainwright, whose plaited blond hair circled her head. The Danish immigrant suffered from what a doctor in Saint Charles referred to as Night Blindness, with no known cure. And yet Maren possessed a quiet strength and grace Anna desired for herself.

Little Gabi Wainwright and little Maisie Kamden skipped ahead of them, singing to their cloth doll and rabbit. The girls’ songs about the birds and rocks tickled Anna, but also pricked her heart. Would she forever be responsible for Mutter and Großvater, or would she one day marry and have a family of her own? She’d started to believe she might …

She shook her head. Never mind what she thought. Or felt.

It didn’t matter.

But still, last night’s image of Caleb on the ground with Davonna Kamden, mourning the loss of a baby he didn’t know, disturbed her. He hadn’t behaved like he’d been drinking. Instead, he’d seemed wrought with grief.

Anna brushed a blade of grass from her apron. Whatever happened to her resolve to lean on God’s understanding and to trust Him to direct her paths? She should be thankful God had allowed her to discover the truth about Caleb before she’d let her heart follow him. They’d already kissed. A mistake.

“Your mother? Is she well?” Maren tucked a windblown curl behind her ear and blinked feverishly.

Anna looked at her friend. “Yes. Thank you. She seems to be feeling better
than she has in a long while.” Anna tugged the brim of her bonnet to better shade her eyes from the sun. “In fact, she’s been doing most of the cooking lately.”

“Yes.” Maren nodded. “She brought us some of her
kartoffelpuffer
this morning. Even better than Mother Brantenberg’s potato pancakes.” She pressed her finger to her mouth. “You know you can’t tell Elsa I said that.”

“Don’t worry, she won’t hear it from me.” Anna smiled. “But I know the secret ingredient.”

“Do tell.”

“She adds garlic to the hot oil. Says that’s what adds flavor. And wards off rheumatism.”

“Rutherford asked her for the receipt. Perhaps she can teach Gabi how to make them.”

“I’m sure she’d be happy to.”

And what a great idea to get Mutter involved with the others. Being around children was good for one’s spirit. One of the great blessings of being on the trail with all these families.

“Anna.” Maren looked at her, blinking. “You are a good daughter.”

Anna looked away, fighting the legions of doubts that plagued her.

“Even before we left Saint Charles, we all saw you.” Maren laid her tender hand on Anna’s sleeve. “Despite your own grief, you worked to provide for your family. And here on the road, you’ve done everything you can to care for your mother.”

“Thank you.” Anna patted Maren’s hand. “You are a good friend.”

“I know it can’t be easy.”

Anna shook her head. “No, but we all do what the Lord gives us to do. You are a good example of that, from the very day you boarded the boat in Copenhagen. Now, you’re on a wagon caravan crossing this wide desert, all the while anticipating a child.” She glanced at the girls scampering ahead of them, then returned her focus to her friend. “You’re feeling better these days?”

Maren nodded, bouncing her braided crown. “No more fainting. I count that good.”

“Yes, well, you did gain everyone’s attention for Rutherford’s sermon that Sunday.”

Maren giggled, her face turning pink.

“What was it Caleb read this morning? I can’t remember.”

“From Romans, the fifth chapter?” Maren looked ahead at the two girls. “That’s far enough ahead, Gabi girl.” She turned back toward Anna. “Something about glorying in tribulations.”

“Yes.” Anna sighed. “Knowing that tribulation works patience. Patience, experience; and experience, hope.”

“I suppose that means we’ll both have an abundance of patience by the end of this trip?” Maren smiled.

“Good.” Anna swatted a fly away from her face. “I could use a greater measure of patience.”

“Me too.” Maren pointed at the two little girls twirling just ahead of them then faced Anna. “He’s a bit of a surprise, that man.”

“Rutherford?”

“Him, too. But I was thinking about Caleb. A man who reveres God’s Word. And always helping folks, like your grandfather and Mrs. Kamden.”

“Yes.” Anna couldn’t argue with any of that. Caleb was like no man she’d ever met. Quiet. Smoldering. Emotion in check, but just barely. Sensitive. Compassionate. But if what Mutter said was true, he had a secret Anna couldn’t abide.

“Rutherford and I—Gabi too—are excited about the music celebration tonight. You’re planning to come, aren’t you?”

Anna gulped. Großvater had mentioned the plan over breakfast. She hadn’t yet come up with a good enough excuse not to participate. But she couldn’t go.

“Your grandfather is playing the mandolin. Rutherford will play his zither.” Maren arched her eyebrows. “With all the troubles your family has had lately, a little fun would do you well.”

That much was true, if not for the fact that she was trying to avoid Caleb, and it would be even more difficult to do at a Company dance. Especially since he was convinced she was angry with him and he was bent on learning why.

Caroline pulled the hand mirror from her trunk and studied her reflection. Except for the fact that she’d been traveling across the country on foot for a
month, out in the elements, she didn’t look too terrible. After supper, she’d managed to wash her face and brush out her hair, which now was swept into a chignon. If only her feelings could be so easily contained.

With the attention Garrett Cowlishaw had been paying her the past few weeks, her mind had started thinking about the possibility that she could marry again. The realization that she cared for Garrett tangled her feelings all the more. This wasn’t his first wagon caravan. He heard the call to adventure and answered it. He’d traveled this way twice before. In their time together on Sunday afternoons, he’d said nothing about wanting to settle down. He’d been married once already. At one time, he may have planned to have a family, but he could have decided not to marry again. Did he even mean to remain in California once he’d seen the wagons safely there?

“How-de-do, Miss Caroline!” Davonna Kamden’s face appeared through the puckered opening in the canvas. “Dear, the family went ahead. I said I’d wait for you, but I can’t—”

Caroline held up her index finger. “I’m nearly ready.” She tucked the mirror into her trunk then pinned a small hat on her head. She handed her candle lantern to Davonna and carefully climbed over the wagon seat. Her feet on the ground, Caroline smoothed her blue dress and repositioned her lace shawl.

“You look lovely, dear.”

“Thank you. You do, as well.” Davonna wore a starched green, puff-sleeve dress, and a warm smile that crinkled the soft creases at her eyes. Caroline raised her arm and bent it as a proper escort would.

Her smile deepening, Davonna rested her gloved hand on Caroline’s arm. “I already have dance partners.”

Plural?
“The music hasn’t even begun, and you’ve received multiple requests?”

She held up her other hand. “Three dance partners, in fact. Mr. Tiny. Mr. Lyall Kamden.” A finger wiggled with the mention of each name. “And
your
Captain Garrett.”

“He isn’t my Captain Garrett.” The statement left her feeling a bit cold.

“Well, dear, I don’t believe he has a clue about that.” Davonna tittered.

Their Sunday horseback rides had everyone making assumptions about
the two of them. But she couldn’t afford to presume Garrett Cowlishaw’s attention meant anything more than companionship to him.

“Oh my stars. I was wrong. Four menfolk reserved a dance with me.” Davonna shook her head. “How could I forget about Oliver?”

Caroline swallowed her amusement. “You do have a full dance card.”

Davonna nodded then looked out at the camp. “It’s so lovely.”

They’d circled the wagons for tonight’s gathering. Garrett and the other men built a firepit in the center of camp. Red and orange flames pirouetted in a light breeze. The children played off to one side and a small band assembled itself on the other. A table held various refreshments—pies and other desserts. Lorelei Beck had made macaroons. Everyone looked as if they’d been polished—clean and fresh.

Caroline looked up. Out here on the open prairie, even above a fireglow, the sky sparkled with myriad stars. An especially lovely night.

“Ladies.” Garrett walked toward them, his beard neatly trimmed and his hair combed into place, all except for that one wave that liked to frame his temple.

A handsome night
. Or at least
her
captain was handsome tonight.

Davonna removed her hand from Caroline’s arm and laid it on Garrett’s. His grin undermined Caroline’s footing. Thankfully, he held his other arm out to her. The warmth of his skin through his chambray sleeve did little to steady her as he led them toward a circle of chairs, stools, and benches.

“Captain, seeing as how you were so prompt, I’m awarding you my first dance.”

“I am most honored, ma’am.” He looked at Caroline, his eyebrows arched in a question. “The second dance on your card?”

“It’s yours.”

And maybe, if she was bold enough, she’d take the opportunity to ask if this was his last caravan west.

Anna seated herself at the worktable across from Mutter. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen her writing a letter.

Anna pulled a sheet of paper from the desk kit and flipped it over to the
blank side. This was as good a time as any to add to the quilting circular. Lorelei had handed her the letter during the noon break. She could tell Emilie and the others in Saint Charles about how well Mutter was doing and that the adventure seemed to have added several years to Großvater’s life.

Mutter stilled the quill in her hand and looked up. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Anna dipped her chin in surprise. “Writing a letter seemed a good idea.”

“It isn’t. Not for you.”

“Why not?”

The screech and squawk of instruments being tuned momentarily drew their attention to the center of the circle of wagons. “You’re not going to be young and attractive forever. You need to find a husband. Now.”

“I’m only eighteen.” Besides, what did writing letters have to do with aging? And what did going to a campfire gathering have to do with finding a husband? Even as she thought it, Anna knew the answer and the name that would soon be on Mutter’s lips.