Mona Hodgson - [Hearts Seeking Home 01] (17 page)

“He’s gone to get the oxen.”

“He was awfully slow getting out of bed this morning.” Mutter scooped butter from the churn. “I was already up and dressing before he dropped his hammock into the back of the wagon.”

Anna nodded. “Yes, and now that you mention it, he was moving pretty slowly, even at rolling his hammock.”

“That’s not like him. Since Vater agreed to join the caravan, he’s had more energy than I’ve seen in him since … well, you know.” Mutter looked away.

Since Dedrick died. Why couldn’t Mutter say it?

“Do you think he might be ill?” Mutter asked.

“He didn’t say anything about it. Went after the oxen like he does every morning.”

“You know your großvater. He wouldn’t say if he was feeling
punk
.”

Anna pulled three tin mugs from the wagon box. “I’ll keep an eye on him.”

Mutter began to slice dry sausage for their breakfast. “And I might talk to the doctor.”

“Großvater wouldn’t like that.”

“Well, I wouldn’t like it if he got sick and died on me.”

Anna sighed. “Großvater is fine. You’ll see.” Still she couldn’t help but watch for him to return to camp while she freed her hammock from the tree and rolled it.

The coffee seemed eager to boil this morning, sending out a rich aroma. Distracted by Mutter’s concerns, Anna realized she may have ground extra into the pot.

Großvater appeared and dropped the lead rope at the tongue of the wagon, leaving the four oxen unattended. “I could smell our coffee two camps down. Works better than a dinner bell.”

Anna poured him a cup and studied his face for any sign of illness.

“Danke.”
Großvater carried the cup to the table, the steam trailing him. He sank onto a chair and took a long gulp. “Tastes extra good this morning.”

Mutter glanced at the oxen, not yet yoked to the wagon. “Vater?”

After another gulp of coffee, he peered up at her over the cup. “Wilma?”

“How are you feeling?”

“Like everyone else. With my fingers.”

Giggling, Anna handed Mutter a cup of coffee. “Großvater seems fine to me.”

Mutter huffed. “Just as annoying as always, that is for certain.”

“And you’re worrying for naught. You can’t blame me for wanting a little coffee before I go back to work.” He set his cup down and went to the tongue.

“Mornin’, Otto.” Boney strolled up with Caleb Reger at his side. “Anna. Mrs. Goben.” Boney returned his attention to Großvater. “Me and Caleb were just fighting over who was going to get to yoke your oxen for a cup of that coffee and a hunk of Anna’s spice bread.” He looked at Caleb and raised a brow.

“Uh, yes, we were. And I say it should be me. After all, everyone knows
Boney’s a better cook than I am. He can make his own bread.” He looked at Anna and smiled.

“Well, I am glad to see you,” Mutter said, “and will happily give you both a portion and a hot cup if you’ll do the rest of Vater’s chores for him this morning.”

“Sounds like a good deal to me, Otto. We get fed, and you get to watch us work.”

“My daughter thinks I’m weak.” Großvater shook his head. “When it’s just that blamed bear kept me awake the other night, and the memory of its visit hasn’t helped me get much sleep since.”

“You and me both.” Boney gave a low whistle and clapped Großvater on the shoulder. “Show me where to find a coffee mug.”

Had Boney seen what Mutter was worried about? Was Großvater not feeling well and trying to hide it? Or was he just grateful for the company? Mutter was no doubt wondering the same things.

When Boney sat down to visit with Großvater, Anna poured a cup for Caleb.

He looked up at her. “So that’s my prize?”

“Your prize?”

“The coffee.”

Nodding, she smiled and held the cup out to him. “A sip or two might help with the work.”

He took the cup, his gaze lingering. “Your smile is worth more than any cup of coffee.”

Her cheeks warmed. She tried not to smile, but couldn’t help it. “Thanks again for helping us with the hoop yesterday. Seems as long as we’re around, you don’t have to concern yourself with boredom.”

“You are anything but boring, Miss Goben.” A smile parted his lips.

She could say the same about him. “I best let you get this job done before the coffee cools.”

Caleb returned the cup to her, then bent over the yoke and effortlessly lifted it into position.

Watching him yoke the oxen, Anna couldn’t help but wonder if that was what she’d dream about tonight.

At least Davonna Kamden had chosen not to voice her accusation of thievery in front of her grandchildren.

Caroline stirred flour into the dough starter, but her mind and heart weren’t in the work. Instead, her thoughts kept returning to the elder Mrs. Kamden’s charge. She’d hardly slept a wink last night because of it. When Davonna had gone back into the wagon to gather a few things, Caroline had hoped she would find the missing locket. When that didn’t happen, Rhoda had whispered her apologies to Caroline and taken her mother-in-law to the Conestoga for the night.

That had left Caroline to settle the children into their makeshift beds. Of no mind to do anything else, she’d tossed and turned atop her pallet on the lid of her trunk. All she could think about was Davonna Kamden and how much she wanted to get away from her. When she’d first met the elder Mrs. Kamden, the woman had taken an instant liking to her. It was Davonna’s idea that her son employ Caroline on the road west to provide her with the means to join the caravan. They’d lived side by side for several days now. Caroline had given no reason to be distrusted. On the contrary, she’d accepted the woman’s eccentricities and done all she could to aid her.

Certainly, she wasn’t the only one who entertained concerns for the grandmother. Davonna’s childish manner had puzzled her more than once. But for her to conclude that the locket had been stolen and Caroline was the culprit … Would anyone in their right mind think such a thing?

Nonetheless, the moment the captain of the Boone’s Lick Company returned from his early morning scouting trip with Rutherford Wainwright, he was sure to include her in an investigation of thievery.

During this extended midday break, Davonna sat on a quilt under a shade tree up the hill from the wagon. Ian and Rhoda Kamden had gone to the creek with all five of their children.

Caroline covered the bowl of dough starter and returned it to the new grub box Arvin Beck had made for the farm wagon. Rhoda had nearly insisted on staying behind to tend to the dough and peel potatoes, but Caroline needed to be alone. When she wasn’t thinking about the events of last evening, her
thoughts turned to the quilting circle in Saint Charles and to her sister and nieces and nephew. She missed the weekly drive out to Mrs. Brantenberg’s farm with Jewell. She missed cooking meals alongside her sister.

She missed Elsa Brantenberg, Emilie, Johann Heinrich and the dry goods store. She missed sleeping on a soft bed. And, yes, she still missed Phillip. She liked having someone with whom she could share her life. And caring for someone else’s gaggle of children and difficult mother-in-law wasn’t at all what she had in mind.

“Miss Caroline!”

The voice had become familiar when she worked in Heinrich’s Dry Goods and Grocery. Caroline turned toward the gangly young man with the fuzzy beard.

Oliver Rengler glanced at the bucket of potatoes she had yet to peel. “Oooweee. You want some help with those?”

“Yes. Thank you, Oliver.” Perhaps having someone to talk to could rein in her thoughts. She pointed to a stool at the back of the wagon. “If you pull that up here, I’ll put you to work.”

“I’d like that, Miss Caroline.” Oliver fairly ran to the stool then back to the table with it. “This is one of those days I seem to be nothin’ but in Sally’s way.”

More often than not, Oliver’s sister-in-law seemed put off by him. In Saint Charles, Oliver had spent a lot of time at the dry goods store. The close quarters of a wagon train weren’t as accommodating.

“Sometimes, we women have a certain way of doing things—our way.” Caroline smiled.

Oliver chuckled. “That’s the truth, Miss Caroline.”

“I’m happy for your help.” As he settled onto the stool at the table, Caroline moved a second pot toward Oliver. “You can put the peeled spuds in this one.”

He grabbed a knife and began to peel, taking a little too much potato in the process. “We can have a sport. See who can fill their pot first.”

Caroline looked into her tin bowl. “I don’t think that would be fair. I have a much smaller bowl.”

“Life ain’t fair, Miss Caroline. Owen’s told me that time and time again.”

She drew in a deep breath and let it out on a wistful sigh. “That may be true, Oliver, but I want to be fair.”

“I like that about you, Miss Caroline.” He started peeling his next potato. “You’re nice to people, no matter what.”

Caroline nearly choked on his unassuming compliment, which collided with a series of memories. Her judging Garrett Cowlishaw because he’d fought for the South. Her judging Davonna Kamden because the woman talked too much.

“Do you like working for that lady?” Oliver looked over at the dogwood tree and the woman who sat beneath it.

“Actually, I work for Mr. Kamden. I help take care of his children.” And his mother.

Oliver dropped the remnant of another potato into his pot and looked up at her, his brown eyes widening. “Remember when I said I could be sweet on you if you wanted me to?”

“I remember.”

“We were in the dry goods store.”

Caroline carefully slid her knife around the spud, hoping Oliver would notice how little of its flesh she wasted.

“You said you weren’t looking for a husband.”

She remembered that too.

“You still feel that way?” he asked.

Caroline nodded. As much as she longed for someone special in her life, she feared opening her heart only to risk losing another husband. She couldn’t, could she?

“I was just wondering. ’Cause our captain … he looks at you a lot.”

“He does?”

Oliver’s exaggerated nod folded his chin whiskers against his chest. “He looks at you like he really likes you.”

If that were true, his interest would change upon today’s return from scouting when Davonna Kamden planned to report her accusations. And as captain, he’d be obligated to pursue the charge.

Oliver dropped yet another mutilated potato into his pot. “I seen you look at the captain that way too.”

“You have?” She moistened her lips. “You must be mistaken.”

Oliver shrugged, a coy grin lifting his thick eyebrows. The youngest Rengler brother was obviously an incurable romantic.

If Garrett Cowlishaw was looking at her, it wasn’t in
that
way. Not after the way she’d treated him.

However, their past encounters hadn’t seemed the least bit important when she and the captain nearly ran into each other yesterday. When they’d both bent to pick up the fallen letter and their hands touched. He hadn’t seemed any more anxious to withdraw his hand than she had been.

Caroline ducked her head to hide a blush. What if Oliver was right?

Garrett pulled up on the reins, slowing his black stallion. While most of the Company enjoyed a much-deserved noon stop, he and Rutherford Wainwright rode on for a look at the road ahead.

He’d known Rutherford for as long as he could remember. They were boys together in Virginia with big ideas and big dreams. Rutherford had gone to Missouri, found a job, then a wife. They’d both suffered heartache in and around the war, but now Rutherford was living a fresh start. He had his little girl at his side, along with his new wife, Maren. And he gave God the credit for helping him find his way through sorrow, for giving him a second chance.

Garrett raised his face to the sky. Could he believe God would do the same for him?

Rutherford slowed his horse, matching Garrett’s slower pace, then looked at him. “You plannin’ on telling me?”

“What?”

“Your secret.”

No point in asking how Rutherford knew he’d been keeping something from him. It was the nature of good friends to know.

Rutherford dipped his chin and stared him in the eye. “Doesn’t matter if you’re on your feet or on a horse, you always slow down when you’re deep in thought.”