Mona Hodgson - [Hearts Seeking Home 01] (36 page)

“Anna hasn’t been out and about much, and the boss is keepin’ me too busy for idle chattin’.” Boney shook his head. “No. What are you expectin’ her to say about you?”

“I don’t know. She turned me away Wednesday morning. I’ve been busy too, but when I have seen Anna, she’s been quick to look away and busy herself. I thought we were, uh, starting to enjoy each other’s company.”

“This started when you discovered her mother’s problem with drinkin’, right?”

Caleb nodded. “Yeah. After my suspicions were confirmed, anyway.”

“She’s probably red-faced about the family secret bein’ out.”

“Anna doesn’t need to feel embarrassed. Not around me.”

“You tell her that?”

“I will.” Caleb leaned forward as his horse climbed an incline. “First chance she gives me.”

Over the rise lay a lush green valley. An ideal place for their camp tomorrow night, except for the village of tipis clustered along the creek. Caleb pulled back on the reins, slowing his Pacer.

“Looks like we’ll be sharing the valley with the mission Indians the boss told us about.” Boney stopped his mule, stood in his stirrups, and looked to the horizon.

Caleb didn’t see any Indian scouts, but it didn’t mean they weren’t there. “We’ve got us some pretty skittish folks. You think they’ll be all right having Indians for neighbors?”

“I sure hope so, ’cause that’s where we’ll need to camp.” Boney looked out over the valley. “I say we pay ’em a friendly visit.” He pulled a slab of jerky from his pack and clicked his tongue at his mule.

Caleb took jerky from his pack too, then pulled his horse around to follow Boney’s mule down a muddy path toward a stand of about twenty tipis. Women dressed in deerskins busied themselves around firepits while men dressed in elk hide stood and watched them wander in. Children wearing loincloths chased one another with sticks in some kind of a game. The scent of smoke permeated the village. Buffalo skins hung on frames, drying in direct sunlight.

Boney glanced at Caleb. “Hunters and gatherers. Nomads like us.”

Caleb kept his head facing straight ahead, but his eyes were busy surveying his surroundings.

As they approached the center of the village, Boney held up the gift of jerky. “Afternoon, folks.”

A trim young man wearing a felt hat stepped forward from one of the frames. When he offered a short sentence in a language Caleb didn’t understand, the children ran toward Boney’s mule chattering and laughing. An older man joined the young one. They each reached for one of the offered gifts.

When the younger man took the jerky from him, Caleb removed his hat and pointed at the creek. “Hope you don’t mind, but we’d like to camp our wagons up the creek tonight.”

The man standing beside Caleb’s horse spoke undecipherable words to the man standing with the children, then smiled up at Caleb. “You make coffee then?”

Caleb nodded, chuckling inside. “Yes. You come see us. We’ll have coffee at the campfire.”

The older man held up his bundle of jerky and gave Boney a sort of salute before walking away, with the others falling into step. The greeting was brief, but Caleb took it as a good sign. They weren’t seen as any kind of threat. And this band obviously wasn’t Lakota, the tribe farther north, infamous for causing problems.

The wagon train could camp close by for the night. There didn’t seem to be any hostility or fear among the villagers. If only that were true for the band of travelers known as the Boone’s Lick Company.

A
nna guided Molasses toward a hillock up the road from camp. The Indians with which the Company shared the pretty valley weren’t anything like those talked about in the dime novels. The children had played with the Company’s children, and several of the Indian men sat around campfires, drinking coffee and swapping stories. So far, it seemed to be Großvater’s second favorite moment on the trip. The first was the previous morning, when he’d returned to camp to find Mutter cooking and sassing him.

The Company had made good time this morning, walking through a rolling countryside that held no rivers to ford and no surprises but for a large herd of antelope. Tonight, the camp would feast on roasted meat. For now, Anna saw their break for the noon meal as an opportunity for a little time to herself. She reined Molasses to a stop under a shady oak, swung to the ground, and pulled her sack from the pommel.

Looking out over the land, she could see for miles and miles and almost felt like one of the captain’s scouts. This must be how Caleb felt, riding ahead and seeing the lay of the land before the others. No sign of outposts, rivers, or Indian villages today. Just a hill here, and a draw there. Off in the distance, she spotted a row of what looked like three ants wearing soiled white hats. Probably wagons belonging to go-backers. The sight reminded her of the captain’s ultimatum to Mutter. If she took to the drink again, Anna’s family could be counted among those returning to Saint Charles.

Anna untied a small quilt from behind the saddle and laid it out on the grassy ground. Settled on the quilt, she reached into the sack for the napkin that held her sandwich. She asked the Lord’s blessing on her noon meal then
unfolded the cloth. Savoring the tangy taste of Mutter’s fresh sourdough bread, Anna let her mind roam the memories of the past five days. Mutter had gone from a stumbling drunken sot to someone bedridden and in need of care for two days, to a clear-headed, hard-working companion. At the same time, Caleb had fallen from lifesaver to someone who saw nothing wrong with Mutter’s life. Her past life. At least, Anna hoped the drunkenness was in their past. With Mutter feeling so well lately, it was easy to believe her need for alcohol was behind her. Easy to believe that breaking those bottles set Mutter on the path to sobriety.

But then, she’d gotten rid of Mutter’s bottles before. And what of Caleb’s family? Was that why he hadn’t returned home after the war? Because his parents and sister had emptied liquor bottles to no avail?

Anna shook her head. She needed to think about something else. Someone else. The quilting circle. That was what she needed, more time with the other women. It would be good for Mutter too. Back in Saint Charles, Thursday was the circle day. But Thursdays, like most other days, were spent walking. Sunday afternoons, however, seemed the perfect time for quilting together.

When Anna had finished her sandwich, she returned the napkin to the sack and pulled out her Bible. Since Caleb was reading God’s Word each morning for the Company, her personal reading had become sporadic, lost in the rush of preparation for retiring for the day or starting a new one. Drawing in a cleansing breath, she opened to Proverbs, chapter three.

“Trust in the L
ORD
with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths.”

She leaned against the tree and closed her eyes, letting the memories of the past several weeks wash over her. Mutter had accused her of trying to be the family law, trying to protect her from herself.

“If I can’t do as much, what makes you think you can?”

Indeed. Anna loosened the ties on her bonnet and let her arms drop at her sides. What made her think she could change Mutter if Großvater couldn’t and God chose not to?

That was the hardest question of all. Why wasn’t God changing Mutter? Or at least changing Anna’s own heart so Mutter’s choices wouldn’t hurt so much.

Her own understanding and her path were her biggest problems. She’d make plans based upon her understanding, and then plans would change. And that would make her angry. Then she’d try harder.

She wanted to trust the Lord with her heart. With her plans. Always. That was her intention. Why was it so hard for her?

Twigs snapped behind Anna. Her eyes popped open. She slapped her Bible shut and set it on the quilt.

“Anna?”

She scrambled to her feet and faced a chestnut Tennessee Pacer. Caleb Reger sat in the saddle, looking every bit the Southern gentleman, his back perfectly straight and the reins suspended in his right hand.

“I didn’t purpose to startle you, I—”

“You didn’t.” Anna bent to pick up her Bible and the sack, then looked up at him.

His slanted grin gave a full showing of teeth. As he pulled off his hat, a wave of hair settled on his ear.

Anna slid her Bible into the sack. “Perhaps you did startle me some. But it’s all right. I took my meal up here. Then I was reading. I’d closed my eyes to think. I was thinking.” She was talking too much.

Caleb’s grin hadn’t gone anywhere. He leaned over his saddle horn, bringing his face closer to hers.

She needed to return to camp. Now. She needed to get away from Caleb before she lost her resolve to avoid him. She didn’t like him. She couldn’t like him. Not if she wished to protect her heart. She scooped the quilt off the ground and folded it. “You shouldn’t have followed me.”

“I saw you ride ahead of the Company by yourself. When Garrett was ready to move the wagons and you hadn’t returned, I decided to come find you.” Caleb straightened and scanned the horizon. “I’m glad I did. I’ve wanted to talk to you.”

Anna swallowed the lump in her throat. After making her care about him, he’d finally decided to be honest with her, to tell her the truth about himself? Now that they’d been on the road together for nearly a month. Too late. She knew all she needed to know. Ignoring him, Anna stuffed the quilt into the sack.

He swung down from the saddle and stood directly in front of her.

She pulled Molasses’s reins from the branch. “I was getting ready to rejoin the Company.”

His jaw tightened. “You were leaning against a tree with your eyes closed, relaxed. Until you saw me. You’ve been avoiding me since the night I brought your mother back from the draw. Why? If you’re embarrassed—”

“Embarrassed?”

“Because I know about your mother’s drinking.”

He really thought mere embarrassment would be enough to keep her away from the man she cared about?

“Anna, if you’re feeling ill at ease because I know you broke the bottles in the fire, you needn’t.”

She slid the strings of the sack over the pommel, noting that the Boone’s Lick Company was on the move. “I’m not embarrassed.”

He blew out a deep breath. “We kissed. That meant something to me. And now, you’ve been avoiding me. I’m desperate to know why.”

She set her foot in the stirrup and lifted herself into the saddle.

“Anna.” He stepped forward, capturing the reins at Molasses’s withers. “If it’s not embarrassment, then what is wrong? What have I done to make you angry?”

“I had to choose.” Anna glanced at the last of the wagons passing on the road below them. “We’re late. With the captain’s talk of buffalo stampedes, prowling cougars, and sneaky Indians, my mother will be worried about me. I need to catch up.”

“We were friends.” He put his hand on her forearm. “And I thought we were becoming more than friends.”

She did too. But that was before she learned he and Mutter shared the same secret. She stared at his hand.

He abruptly let go of her arm, went to his horse and swung up into the saddle. “You mean you chose your mother over me? You don’t have to. Why are you so angry with me?”

She pulled her horse toward the road, and looked over her shoulder at Caleb. “I didn’t say I was angry with you, you did.” She gave Molasses a nudge, and settled into a gallop toward the wagons, refusing to look back.

About five miles down the road, Anna spotted the telltale drippings of a honeycomb in the branch of a dead tree and urged Molasses off the road.

She wasn’t at the tree two minutes, hardly enough time to come up with a plan, when a mule sauntered in her direction. Its slender rider brushed the brim of his floppy hat and smiled.

“You figurin’ on knockin’ that thing down for the wax?”

“And the honey.”

“This I gotta see.”

“I think it’s been abandoned.” She studied the hive for another moment, then looked Boney in the eye. “So you and Caleb are taking turns keeping watch on me?”

Boney nodded. “And on your mother.”

“The captain visits our camp every morning.” Anna sighed. “That isn’t enough?”