Mona Hodgson - [Hearts Seeking Home 01] (20 page)

Turning toward his camp, Caleb caught sight of a familiar green calico dress. Anna Goben held the lead rope of an ox. It looked like she’d be the first to receive an apology, after all.

Her steps light and the rope slack, she led the steer toward a less populated patch of grass. Were her lips moving? Was she scolding the animal? Comforting it? He chuckled at the thought. But as he drew closer to her, he picked up a melody. She sang in German, but Caleb recognized the tune to the familiar hymn, “Give to Our God Immortal Praise.”

Wonders of grace to God belong; repeat His mercies in your song
.

She apparently had a better understanding of God’s grace than he did.

Just as quickly as his shoulders sagged under the burden of his past, he pushed the memories from his mind. He couldn’t change what he’d done on the battlefield. But he could try to right his impolite behavior.

Despite his first impression of Miss Goben, she truly was a marvel. She cooked, helped her grandfather with the livestock, fetched water, looked after her mother, created hats, yoked oxen, and slept in a hammock suspended between a wagon and a tree. Those weren’t all standard activities for a female who was also an eye-catching young woman.

Caleb slowed his steps.

Fact was, he’d found Anna Goben intriguing from the moment she’d
summoned Boney Hughes away from the altar. And then approaching him on her grandfather’s porch, her shoulders squared. Then, again, the evening he’d followed her to the creek bank and watched her bury what he was sure were bottles of liquor. Friday evening, he’d caught her watching him intently while she pretended to busy herself at the grub box on the back of the wagon. From what he’d seen of her, it didn’t seem there was anything she couldn’t or wouldn’t do to provide for and protect her family.

And she sang about God’s grace and mercy. To an ox.

He chewed his bottom lip. If he was thinking so highly of her, it might be best he maintain some antagonism between them. Fondness and affections weren’t something his heart could afford.

Caleb was in the process of turning around, about thirty feet from Miss Goben, when she looked up.

With no choice now but to follow through on his original plan, Caleb joined her beside a young willow. “Good day, Miss Goben.”

Her face pinked. “And to you, Caleb.” She glanced around them. “I didn’t see you there. Anna. Call me Anna.”

“Anna.” He pulled the derby from his head.

Her gaze rose to the top of his head, and a bashful grin brightened her blue eyes.

“My hair?” He looked that direction as if he could actually see his hair and then, smiling, raised his right arm. “On the top. Your left.”

He switched hands and brushed his hair. “Better?”

She nodded.

“I heard you singing.”

The pink in her cheeks deepened.

“You have a lovely voice.”

“Thank you.” She glanced at the rope in her hand. “I was just moving one of our oxen.”

“Mind if I walk with you?”

“I don’t mind, but I’m not going very far.” She looked at the steer. “It seems he’s feeling a bit cantankerous this morning.”

Caleb grinned. “I know the feeling. That happened to me last Tuesday morning.”

A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.

“When I saw you out here, I thought this might be a better time to clear the air.”

“I would’ve said you did as much the other evening when you helped with the wagon.”

Caleb matched her easy pace, swinging his hat at his side. “Yes, well, thank you. But there was nothing official about it.”

“All right, then. Let’s clear the air.”

“Good. It’s just that I have a job to do, and I wish to be cordial with everyone in the Company. I don’t want any ill will between us.”

She stopped and looked him in the eye. He saw no sign of ill will, and what he thought he saw made him weak in the knees. Curiosity? Interest? Attraction?

Caleb cleared his throat, hoping his imagination would take the hint. “I became concerned when I learned that you and Miss Pemberton weren’t with the wagons.” He sighed. “I overreacted.”

“Yes, well, at least now I am quite familiar with Company policy.”

“Please forgive my curtness.”

“You were only doing your job, keeping track of wayward women.”

He chuckled. “Perhaps, but I really don’t aim to make your trip miserable.”

“That’s good news. I agree that our travels will be more pleasant if we’re cordial, free of any ill will.” She moistened her lips.

Did she have any idea how distracting she was?

“You were new to Saint Charles when you took the job as a trail hand. My guess is you’re from Tennessee or Georgia, maybe Kentucky.”

“Good guess. I’m from Tennessee.” But it hadn’t been home since the war. “You went to school with Boney. Does that mean you’ve lived in Saint Charles all your life?”

“Since I was six.” She stopped and let the lead rope drop to the ground. “My father left me, my mother, and Dedrick in New York. That very week, we climbed into a stagecoach and came to Missouri to live with my grandfather.”

“I’m sure it was hard to leave your friends behind there, but it can’t have been any easier to leave the place where you last saw your brother alive.”

She shook her head, holding his gaze. “No, but I felt we had to make this
trip if there was any hope of crawling out of our grief. It’s been really hard on my mother. And on my grandfather.”

And on her. Trying to be strong for them. He could see the strain of it in her eyes.

Sighing, Anna tucked a curl of golden-brown hair behind her ear. “What about you? And your family?”

“I have one sister. And my parents.”

She raised an eyebrow, as if waiting for more. “They’re all still in Tennessee?”

“As far as I know, they are. I haven’t seen them since the war.” For all he knew, they counted him among the dead. Something else he didn’t care to think about, let alone say.

“I’m sorry, Caleb.”

“For what?”

“For whatever it is you can’t say.”

“Thank you.”

The air between them was certainly free of ill will, but it was nowhere close to being free of secrets.

Caroline greeted the two Beck couples on her way by their campfire. Rhoda had given Caroline time to herself this morning before the Sunday worship service. Davonna had found her missing locket, but the fact that she had jumped to disturbing conclusions remained. And so did Caroline’s concern regarding the older woman’s well-being.

She shook her head. Time to put the whole Kamden family out of her mind, for now, and think about someone else. Maren Wainwright. Whenever Caroline was tempted to feel sorry for herself, she thought about Maren. Here she was on this long journey to the unknown—a newlywed, stepmother to a four-year-old, and losing her eyesight because of some mysterious condition. And all without Mrs. Brantenberg, the woman who had become like a mother to her in America.

When Caroline arrived at the Wainwrights’ wagon, Maren sat at the
worktable cutting up potatoes and Gabi was still inside dressing. Rutherford came up from the stream, a bucket of water in each hand. After they greeted each other, he poured the water into the barrel lashed to the side of the wagon.

Rutherford captured his bride’s hand. “I’ll leave you two to visit. But I’ll be back in time for breakfast.” He pulled Maren toward him and kissed her on the forehead.

Caroline looked away while a niggling question taunted her. Would she ever love and be loved again?

Rutherford waved good-bye and strolled toward Garrett’s chuck wagon.

A sweet, happy song floated from Maren’s wagon, and Caroline looked that direction. “It sounds like Gabi is enjoying a little time to herself. As am I.”

“You’ll have breakfast with us?”

“Yes, if you’re sure.”

“I’m sure, and Gabi will love the company too.” Maren pointed toward the three-footed skillet on the cookfire. “The spider pan, as Mother Brantenberg liked to call it, should be hot enough by now. Mind if I cook while we visit?”

“Not at all. I like to watch other people work.”

Smiling, Maren rose from the stool. Before she could straighten, she began to teeter.

Caroline lunged forward, holding her arm out to catch her, but Maren quickly regained her balance.

“Are you all right?” Caroline asked.

“Yes. Thank you. I must have stood with too much haste.” Maren took slow steps to the campfire, tugging her apron straight.

Caroline looked at the spread of fixings on the table. “What can I do to help you?”

“You want to slice onion for the potatoes or cook the bacon?”

“I’ll take the onion.” Caroline reached into the tow sack and pulled out an onion. She found a knife and while she sliced, Maren started the bacon to sizzling.

A few moments later, Maren turned to her, blinking, something she did a lot of to help refocus her vision. But this time she didn’t look well. The color drained from her face.

“You’re not well. Are you?” Caroline asked.

Shaking her head, Maren twisted away from the fire. She jerked her apron skirt to her mouth and began to retch.

When her friend’s wave of sickness passed, Caroline carefully removed the soiled apron from Maren, set it on the ground under the wagon, and took over tending the bubbling skillet.

“How long have you not been feeling right?”

“Two or three days.”

“Mostly in the mornings?”

Maren nodded.

Caroline looked her in the eye. “You could be expecting.”

“Now?” Tears glistened in Maren’s eyes.

“Does Rutherford know you haven’t been feeling well?” Caroline could scarcely hear herself for all the popping and sizzling in the skillet.

“No. He’s busy every morning tending to the animals.” Maren pressed her hand to the waist of her calico dress, a tear sliding down her cheek. “I’ll talk to Dr. Le Beau tomorrow. I don’t want to disturb him on a Sunday.” Her bottom lip quivered. “Gabi is old enough to do a lot for herself, but a baby—”

Suddenly, Gabi stood beside them, holding up her cloth dolly. “Here’s my baby.”

Neither of them had seen or heard the child climb out of the wagon.

Maren looked away, brushing tears from her face.

Caroline scrambled to fill the silence. “After breakfast, maybe you’d like to go with me to help Miss Mary Alice with baby Evie.”

Gabi’s woolly brown curls bounced. “Yes.”

So much had changed for all of them in the past few months, and Caroline couldn’t help but wonder if Rutherford would choose to turn back when he found out Maren was carrying his child … on what his friend Garrett Cowlishaw called a treacherous journey.

Today, Caroline couldn’t say she wouldn’t return to Saint Charles with them.

C
aleb squirmed on his sparse allotment of log, bumping Tiny’s arm on one side and Frank’s shoulder on the other. All three of them shifted. The last Sunday service Caleb had attended wasn’t all that different from the one being held at the center of the circled wagons. The sky served as the ceiling. The grassy ground, the church flooring. A mishmash of logs and stools took the place of pews in the same way they had just over a year ago at Centralia. But Caleb couldn’t remember there even being a sermon, let alone who had delivered it. That Sunday morning, he’d somehow roused himself enough to attend.

No. Someone had dragged him out of the tent.

Billy
.

A familiar pang seared Caleb’s gut and shot into his chest, and he crossed his arms against the onslaught.

Garrett had insisted all of the wagon train’s leadership attend the service. Probably saw it as part of his role as the group’s shepherd. Most members of the caravan were present, including the immigrants who didn’t speak English. Even Wilma Goben, whom he’d rarely seen outside of her camp. Anna’s mother seemed to appreciate isolation as much as he did.

Raised in the church, attending Sunday services had once been second nature to Caleb. He had looked forward to the gatherings. But that was before …

His gaze darted to Mama Zanzucchi and the cross dangling from her neck, then to little Gabi Wainwright who sat in front of the group between Maren and Rutherford, her fingers tracing the holes on the flute she held. He
shouldn’t be here. Didn’t deserve to be here. He was a hypocrite, a sinner who didn’t belong in the midst of these good people.