Mona Hodgson - [Hearts Seeking Home 01] (19 page)

“That’s correct. Along with three of her grandchildren, but all five of them go in and out of the wagon regularly.”

Mrs. Kamden stiffened. “You’re accusing those innocent children?”

“I’m only stating the facts. That’s what the captain said he wanted. And the more facts, the better.”

Mr. Cowlishaw drew in another deep breath. “Mrs. Milburn, had you ever seen Mrs. Kamden’s locket?”

“I have. She’s not worn it on the trip, but I did see the locket once when she took it out of the box to show it to me.”

The older woman nodded. “That’s a fact, Captain. So she knew where I kept it.”

“That doesn’t mean I took it. Others—”

“The children, you mean?”

“Yes, and your son and your daughter-in-law. They all knew you kept it in your jewelry case.”

Anna felt like cheering. Not only was Caroline remaining as cool as a crock in a root cellar, she was keeping her wits about her in this ridiculous investigation.

The captain flapped his hat against his thigh. “I see.”

Mrs. Kamden raised her chin. “You see what, Captain Cowlishaw?”

“Mrs. Kamden, I see that this very important matter will require more attention. Further inquiry.” Garrett Cowlishaw returned the hat to his head. “Would you have me do that now, delaying our departure all the more, or might my investigation wait until we arrive at Independence?”

“Very well.” Mrs. Kamden pressed her fingertips to her right temple as if to restrain an oncoming headache. “She is good with the children.”

The captain nodded. “I’ll escort you to your wagon then, and we’ll be on our way.” He cupped the elder woman’s forearm and turned to leave.

Anna added her sigh to Caroline’s. Yes, matters such as this went a long way to help Anna keep her concerns about her own mother in perspective. At least Mutter kept her insolence to herself. Mrs. Kamden had no such familiarity with discretion.

Poor Caroline.

Now the captain would be required to keep watch on her. And for all the wrong reasons.

Caroline knelt in front of her trunk and set the candle lantern on the floorboard beside her. She pulled the official stationery of the Department of War from an envelope, taking care not to hold the paper too close to the dancing flame. Pressing the folded letter to her chest, she sat back on her heels. The three youngest Kamden children were tucked in and sleep-breathing, Maisie’s like the purr of a kitten. Caroline closed her eyes and quieted her spirit.

Thankfully, Rhoda had agreed to move her mother-in-law into the Conestoga until the good captain could reconcile Davonna Kamden’s concern that Caroline was a thief.

Caroline blew out an unladylike sigh of relief. This was indeed one day she was glad to see come to a close. The poor woman couldn’t actually believe Caroline would take her locket … had taken it. Garrett Cowlishaw didn’t believe it. She’d seen the vein jumping in his neck and heard the tension in his mandatory questioning.

She’d seen something else in his hazel eyes too. A look she recognized from days gone by. Days with Phillip. Was it possible there was some truth in Oliver’s assumptions that the captain fancied her, despite her harsh treatment of him?

Caroline unfolded the sheet of paper Garrett had delivered to her on that cold day last November.

Once again, the finality of the letter washed over Caroline. She blinked hard against a ready wall of tears. Determined to cry no more for what was or could have been, she folded the letter and rose to her knees.

“Good-bye, Phillip.” If it were safe to do so, she’d burn the letter in the candle flame. Instead, she returned the paper to the envelope and slid her past back into the trunk.

Caroline folded her hands and bowed her head. Following Mrs. Brantenberg’s good teaching from the quilting circle, she asked God to take her scraps … the mismatched remnants of Phillip’s life and death. Saying good-bye to family in Saint Charles. The challenges of caring for the Kamden family. She also gave Him the puzzling piece of new fabric that was her attraction to Garrett Cowlishaw, an unlikely pattern at an unlikely time.

The sound of footfalls quickened Caroline’s heartbeat. Who would be out this late? And so close to her wagon? She blew out her candle in a swift puff. Quiet and still, she watched two silhouettes grow on the oiled canvas.

Caroline felt around for any sort of weapon but only came up with a whittled gun tucked into Duff’s boot.

No more steps. Silence.

“Caroline?”

“Rhoda?” She let herself breath again.

Caroline struck a match and relit the candle. The youngest Mrs. Kamden stood at the front of the wagon. When Caroline stuck her head out of the opening, she could see that Rhoda hadn’t come alone.

“Mrs. Kamden? It’s late.” Caroline looked at one woman then the other. “Is something wrong?”

Rhoda faced her mother-in-law, her eyebrows arched. “Mither Kamden needed a word with you.”

The elder Mrs. Kamden remained quiet, her hand pressed to her chest.

“Mither?” Rhoda’s eyebrows angled upward.

Davonna Kamden moved her hand, revealing a shiny locket dangling from her neck.

“Your locket,” Caroline said. “Yes, dear.”

“You found it. Where?”

Davonna shifted her weight. “It’s an amusing story, really.” Good. “I could use a little amusement.”

“Well, you see, I was knitting in the wagon when my yarn sack fell off my lap. Ian has real good hearing and asked what the jingling sound was. Yarn doesn’t usually make much noise.”

“It was the locket.”

Davonna offered a brief nod, her lips pursed. “Ian found it on the floorboard, chain and all.”

Caroline straightened. “I didn’t put it in your knitting sack.”

“Of course not, dear.” Davonna rubbed the locket as if it were a good-luck charm. “I must have put it in there. I’m afraid all this roaming around is making me, well, a little absent-minded.”

To say the least.

Rhoda sighed. “I, for one, am happy to have that mystery solved.”

Caroline didn’t feel as good about the mystery being solved as she would have expected. Now, the good captain would have no reason to make a deeper inquiry into her secret life as a locket thief. Tickled by her sarcastic thoughts, Caroline absently let out a laugh.

“You see, Rhoda,” Davonna said, “I told you our Miss Caroline was a jovial sort and would find the whole affair befitting of a hearty laugh.”

When Davonna and Rhoda joined in the laughter, Caroline let them assume her giggle concerned the locket. But her amusement quickly gave way to her concern for the elder Mrs. Kamden.

F
inally alone after five days on the road, Caleb sat at the top of a hillock on Sunday morning. He watched as colors as bright as his mother’s spring flower garden streaked the morning sky.

The wagons weren’t rolling today. The group had voted that Sundays would be their sacred Sabbath rest, which suited Caleb just fine. Rest sounded real good. He could use the time to do some thinking. His problem was deciding which topic to tackle first. Where he was headed and what he’d do when he got there. Why his boss seemed bent on shepherding him. Or should he concentrate on what he would do about the distraction Miss Anna Goben was proving to be? He’d surprised himself as much as he’d surprised her when he’d told her that her smile was worth more than any cup of coffee. Not the best compliment, now that he thought about it, but she’d seemed pleased anyway.

It had been easier to avoid her before he knew she and Boney only shared the love of two good friends.

The Scripture lay open on Caleb’s bent legs, his hand resting on a familiar passage from the book of Psalms. He felt more in common with King David than any of the other Old Testament men. Not that he was destined to be a king, but his sin, though not the same as David’s, had devastated his own people.

Footsteps squeaked in the dewy grass, causing Caleb to jerk. Garrett stood beside him.

“I’ve only known one other man who was as committed as you are to reading that book. He was a preacher in my regiment.” The words came out on a huff as Garrett folded his legs and settled on the ground beside Caleb.

“I read more out of desperation than spiritual fervor.”

“All of us carry scars from the war, but not every man turns to God like you have.”

Caleb sighed. If only he’d remained consistent in his choice to follow God in the first place.

“That’s what I came up here to talk to you about,” Garrett continued. “Desperation?”

Garrett chuckled. “Some might say I’m a little desperate.” He plucked a blade of grass and rolled it between his fingers. “It’s Sunday. You’ve done such a good job of reading Scripture every morning. I thought you might like to preach.”

The mere thought stung Caleb’s heart. “Sorry, but I can’t.”

“Sure you can.” Garrett glanced at the open pages. “It’s basically the same as all the other mornings. Only difference is you talk a little about the verse. How about the passage you were just reading?”

Psalm 51. Have mercy upon me, O God.… For I acknowledge my transgressions: and my sin is ever before me.

The verse still stung his heart.

“I can’t preach.” He wasn’t clean enough.

“Can’t, or won’t?”

“Take your pick. I’m not a preacher.” Caleb closed the Bible and stood. “It’s time I get to my chores.”

Caleb took quick steps down the hillock toward camp with Garrett close behind. They’d just reached more even ground, when Garrett broke the silence.

“See you at the breakfast table?”

Caleb nodded and waved his hat, then continued down the narrow path toward the chuck wagon. No need to ask where the captain was headed. To see the Kamden children. Or, rather, their red-headed nanny.

His boss was a good man. Not above jumping in and getting his hands dirty on any jobs needing to be done. The first night the Company set up camp, the captain had been the one to dig the latrine for the women. Garrett also had a touch for teaming up the men who might work best together. Their leader didn’t believe in letting bad feelings fester. And no matter how sorely someone tested his patience, he treated everyone with respect. He certainly deserved a second chance at love.

Now, if Garrett would only give up the notion that Caleb would make a good preacher. He cared too much for all of them to pretend he was qualified to be their spiritual leader. He was already crossing the line between truth and lies when standing before the Company reading Scripture like a saint.

He’d already grown fond of many of his fellow travelers, which fed the fear that he’d let them down. He couldn’t allow himself to fail the people who depended on him. Not again.

Unfortunately, that anxiety kindled impatience with anyone who didn’t follow the rules to the letter. Miss Hattie Pemberton and Miss Anna Goben were among those. Although he’d been right to inquire after them and to remind the young ladies of the Company’s policy, he really didn’t need to be so abrupt.

He owed them both an apology. He’d intended to deliver one Friday evening when he saw Miss Goben charging toward the pasture, but she had the canvas and hoop on her mind.