Mona Hodgson - [Hearts Seeking Home 01] (33 page)

No one had to tell him what had happened. Instead of burying her mother’s
bottles this time, she’d sent them to the fire. In the river, he’d smelled the liquor on Wilma Goben’s breath. He’d seen Anna storm away from the shore. She’d held the lead rope taut, pulling the oxen as if they were her burden to bear.

She knew her mother had been drinking and caused the trouble out on the river.

Now, Caleb followed Wilma Goben into the draw, fighting his trembling insides. Where was she going?

Away. He knew from experience all she wanted was to get away from herself. From those she’d hurt. From anyone who knew her.

And this was his fault. He’d had his suspicions before they’d ever left Saint Charles. He should’ve told Anna he’d seen her carry a sack toward Blanchette Creek and bury what he guessed were whiskey bottles. Instead, he’d let Anna and her mother hold on to secrets that could’ve claimed their lives. Only God knew what would happen to Wilma Goben now if he didn’t stop her.

Mud from the river bottom weighted his wet boots just as surely as the Saint Charles memory tugged his heart. Wilma kept moving, her pace as unsteady as her gait. The setting sun would soon give way to twilight.

Following directly behind her, he took longer strides. “Ma’am. It’s Caleb.”

She jerked, losing her balance. Mrs. Goben fell, landing in a heap on the sandy bottom of the wash.

“You’ve had a busy day, ma’am.” When she made no effort to stand, Caleb sank his knees into the sand beside her. “Your hair is still wet, and the sun is sinking fast. Why are you out here?”

“You’re out here. I might ask you the same question. Why?”

“I followed you.”

She huffed, then pushed a thicket of graying brown hair behind her ear and looked at him. “It wasn’t enough that you saved me from the deep?”

“I don’t know. Was it?”

She looked everywhere but at him. “What do you know about it?”

“It?”

“Drinking. That’s why you’re here.”

“I know some about it, ma’am. Too much.” Caleb drew in a deep breath and let it out. “I had a problem with the drink myself.”

“That’s what you think I have?”

“You don’t?”

“That’s what Anna told you, that I have a drinking problem?”

“I didn’t talk to your daughter.”

She repositioned her skirt to cover her bare feet.

“I saw the flames in your firepit. Then I saw you running away from the wagon, and I wanted to be certain you were all right.”

Wilma Goben crossed her arms, staring at the sand and sagebrush surrounding them. “Why should I tell a stranger anything?”

“Because he pulled you out of the river?”

“But you weren’t on that ferry. You don’t know anything about what happened.”

He sighed. Nothing about this day had been easy. “That’s right, ma’am. I wasn’t on the ferry. Not when I saw you go overboard.”

“I was feeling a little dizzy with the boat moving on the water and all. I lost my balance and fell into that doctor’s flighty horses.” Wilma sighed. “I feel bad about his wagon.”

He’d heard from Le Doc that she was unsteady and had gotten too close to the horses.

“You were so kind to come in after us,” she said, continuing. “You and Boney. Angels, both of you.”

“I can’t speak for Boney, ma’am, but I’m no angel.” She was looking at him, but she still wouldn’t look him in the eye. “We care about you and your daughter.”

She pinched her bottom lip between her teeth. “The doctor’s wagon, is it all right?”

“A wheel broke up and was lost in the river. All that’s left is the hub and a couple of spokes.”

Her lips pressed together, she shook her head.

“You could’ve drowned.” His voice cracked. “Your daughter could’ve drowned trying to save you.” He’d deal with those emotions later. Right now, he didn’t want to let Wilma Goben off the hook. He was desperate for her to see the damage her drinking could do. Before it was too late.

Before she allowed liquor to stand between her and her duty.

Before she let down everyone who trusted her … everyone she cared about.

“My vater is helping the doctor with his wagon?” she asked.

“Yes.” Caleb swallowed the memory of coming out of his stupor and finding Billy and the others in his squad dead. He had to do what he could for Anna’s mother. “My guess is you started drinking after your son died.”

She looked up, her chin quivering. “You know about Dedrick?”

“Boney told me they were good friends, that Dedrick died in the war.”

She pressed her hand to her cheek as a mother would to her child’s face. “Dedrick was a good boy. When he died, I felt so empty. It’s a cold life without my son. The drink, it warms and soothes the ache inside.”

He nodded. “I know how that feels. To lose someone you love, and all you want to do is forget.” A shiver raced up his spine. “To feel better. Warm again.”

Tears streamed down her face.

Caleb blinked hard against his own tears. “Before the war, I had big plans. I was going to be a preacher. Then something happened that hurt me deeply, and I soon started drinking with friends.”

“It wasn’t like that for me. I did it on my own.”

“Ma’am.”

She finally looked him in the eye, her face drawn and gaze teary.

“For some of us, it takes catastrophe and heartbreak before we can see what the love of liquor is doing to us. And to the people we say we love.”

Wilma mumbled something under her breath and wiped her eyes.

“Please, Mrs. Goben, don’t let that happen to you.” Caleb pressed his hand to her forearm. “Stop imbibing before there’s any more heartbreak.”

“Turns out you’re not a stranger, after all.”

“No ma’am.”

Not a stranger to any of it, which concerned him. His father had said the same words to him on the back pew of his church, and he hadn’t heeded the warning.

H
er tears spent, Anna put on dry clothes and grabbed Mutter’s shawl. Mutter had left the wagon without it. Without supper. In her stockinged feet. She pulled Mutter’s only other pair of shoes from her trunk. Großvater hadn’t come to the wagon yet. He was probably still busy trying to make things right for the Le Beaus. If she didn’t see to Mutter, who would?

Anna pulled the candle lantern from the top of the salt barrel. Her hands full, she set the supplies on the end of the seat then climbed out. She’d hoped Mutter would have returned by now, but she hadn’t, and it would soon be nightfall. The footfalls she’d heard when Mutter ran away had come from behind the wagons, so that was where she would start.

The Boone’s Lick Company’s policy probably indicated that she should contact the captain in such situations, but she wasn’t in the mood for a fuss. Or for offering any explanations as to why Mutter had gone off with wet hair and no shoes at dusk. Besides, there was a strong chance Mutter hadn’t made it as far as the riverbank before propping herself against a rock to practice her speech.

She’d taken her last drink. She’d never tip a bottle again. And that was a promise. She’d never meant to hurt her baby girl. It pained her to know that I’d lost my mother to grief … to the bottle. How awful. Knowing that would make all the difference. She would choose her daughter over the bottle. Without hesitation
.

Tears brimmed Anna’s eyes. The first part of the speech she’d heard before. The second part was just as much a lie. It was all just empty words. In the meantime, Mutter could be asleep under a tree somewhere without so much as a shawl to wrap around her. Or she could be lost.

Either way, it was Anna’s job to take care of Mutter. Raising the candle, she trudged toward the trees. But she hadn’t walked more than ten steps before the mental image of a bear walking away with the Kamdens’ grub box stopped her. They were still in Missouri, or at least close to its edge. What if there was a bear out here?

No need to think the worst. That had nearly happened on the river. She could’ve lost Mutter altogether.

The brisk night air chilled her neck, making her grateful her hair had dried quickly. Or maybe it was remembering the bear’s roar that gave her gooseflesh. She tried to tug her shawl tight with her hands full and dropped the boots. Anna had bent to pick them up when she heard Mutter’s voice. And Caleb’s too?

Straightening, she looked up, toward a sandy draw. Mutter walked her direction, resting her arm on Caleb’s.

Relief swept over Anna. She sighed. She’d never misjudged anyone as she had Caleb. He’d been her rescuer—not once today, but twice. This time, how had he known they needed rescuing?

Mutter waved with her free hand.

“Where did you go?” Anna asked.

Mutter let go of Caleb’s arm. “For a walk.”

Anna looked at Caleb, his shirt still wet and clinging to his chest. “Where did you find her?”

“She was in the draw.”

“How did you know?”

“I was coming to the wagon to check on the two of you when I saw your mother heading that way.” Caleb brushed wet hair back from his face. “I followed her to make sure she was all right.”

“Thank you.” Did he think Mutter was all right? Had he any idea of her bad habit? Keeping her questions to herself, Anna turned her attention to Mutter. “We’d best get these boots on you. Then we’ll go have some supper before we rest.”

“Yes. This has been a long day.”

Second longest. She had been sure the day she learned her brother had died would never, ever end.

When Mutter had laced her boots, she looked up at Caleb. “Thank you for everything, Mr. Reger.”

“Yes ma’am.” He looked at Anna and opened his mouth as if to say something but didn’t.

“I’ll see her to the wagon. It’s not that far. Thank you. Again.” Anna dipped her chin then cupped Mutter’s elbow. After watching Caleb turn toward the river, she started walking to the wagon.

“He’s a nice young man, Anna.” Mutter lifted her shoulders in a deep breath. “Very helpful too.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. He sat with me for a while, you know.”

“Did you talk?”

“Of course we did. I
can
be sociable, now and again.” Mutter snickered. “Especially with someone like him.”

“Someone like him?” Compassionate and protective. A lifesaver.

“He knows life can be cold, dear, and that drink can warm and soothe the ache inside.”

Anna faltered and nearly dropped the candle lantern. “Caleb? He said that?” They couldn’t be talking about the same man. Caleb didn’t drink. He couldn’t.

“Yes dear. He said he, too, drinks for the same reasons.”

Mutter wouldn’t make up that kind of story. She’d been encouraging Anna to consider Caleb. And he’d already begun to draw her affections.

“Don’t look so distressed. He knows drinking is a habit that can cause heartache, and we’re going to help each other do better.”

Anna’s throat burned. Mutter was family. She had to listen to Mutter’s speeches, but Caleb could keep his to himself.

By the time the paddle wheeler inched toward the west bank of the river, Garrett was fit to be tied. Not only had two of the paying travelers gone into the water, so had two of his trail hands. How was he to keep everyone safe in that kind of chaos?

The Le Beaus’ hobbled wagon sat on the shore with several men huddled around it. But a disabled wagon was the least of his worries. He could have lost them all.

When the wet Pacer at his side whinnied, Garrett looked past the crowd to where Caleb stood up on the bank. He’d start with the young man who took off into the water on his horse and contend with Boney later.

As soon as the ferry grounded and the plank swung down, Garrett barreled off the boat, holding the lead rope for Caleb’s Pacer.

“Boss.” Caleb took the rope from him and hugged the horse’s neck. “Thanks for bringing him over. My saddle?”

Garrett looked at the wagon trailing him. “Tiny’s got it on the supply wagon.”

Caleb pulled his wet shirt out from his chest. “My dry clothes too.”

Garrett nodded. “The Gobens? How are they faring?”

“The women are fine, Boss. Safe at their wagon.”

“And Boney?”

“Ornery as ever. Already cooking.”

Garrett glanced at the Le Beaus’ wagon.