Mona Hodgson - [Hearts Seeking Home 01] (6 page)

Hattie lifted the brim of her hat, peering at their leader. “You changed your mind?”

“Yes.” Mrs. Brantenberg’s nod was exaggerated and her smile wide. “And I asked Johann Heinrich to marry me.”

Anna’s mouth dropped open in a gasp that joined several others in the room. She knew the widow and the shopkeeper had been friends for thirty years or more, but marriage?

“He said yes!” Mrs. Brantenberg’s blue eyes sparkled.

Emilie stilled her fork midair, a smile tipping her mouth. “They’ll marry Sunday after the service, and I couldn’t be happier.”

“That’s wonderful news.” The tension on Hattie’s face didn’t support her statement. “I don’t mean to be lemon juice in the sugar bowl, but what about those of us going on the trail? And your family?”

Anna sighed. She would miss having Mrs. Brantenberg on the road with them, and she wasn’t even her kin. But little Gabi wouldn’t have her grandmother with her, and Mrs. Brantenberg had been like a mother to Maren.

Maren blinked. Anna wasn’t sure if her friend was merely focusing her failing vision or fighting tears. “Of course we will miss Mother Brantenberg, but we are happy for her and for Emilie’s father. Not everyone gets a second chance at love.”

Or a first chance at love. Anna opened her mouth to add her good wishes but fell silent in her thoughts. What if friendship could be enough of a basis for marriage? She was only eighteen, certainly not beyond marrying age, but what if Mutter was right, and she’d turned down her best chance of escaping Mutter’s grief? To marry someone who knew and understood her family?

Caleb proceeded up the line of wagons to the next one to be inspected. The sight of six carriage horses in hames harness stopped him cold. Dr. Édouard Le Beau perched on the wagon seat, chin up and shoulders back, the reins slack in his hand. His teenage daughter sat beside him, already taller than her father.

The doctor adjusted the red, cone-shaped hat on his head and spoke in French.

Straightening her back, Mademoiselle Camille looked at Caleb. “Is something amiss, Mr. Reger?”

Caleb removed his derby then wiped his brow with his shirt sleeve. “In the provisions list, Captain Cowlishaw recommended oxen or mules to pull the wagons.” He glanced from the doctor to the young woman with hair the color of midnight.

“Oui.”
That was the only word Caleb recognized before the man’s daughter opened her mouth.

“Papa says, ‘But I don’t have oxen or mules.’ ” Dr. Le Beau raised his hands, palms up. More French.

“I have only horses.” Mademoiselle Camille raised her eyebrows as her father had.

“It won’t be an easy journey.” Caleb raked his hair and returned his hat to his head. “Oxen are a much stronger animal, and mules are less skittish.”

While speaking, the doctor climbed down from the wagon seat.

The young woman remained seated. “Again, my Papa said, ‘I don’t have oxen or mules.’ ”

Caleb drew in a deep breath. “Only horses.”

She nodded.

Caleb started his inspection with the lead horses, lifting each hoof to check the farrier’s handiwork. As he moved behind each horse, he gave the withers a pat to make sure there was no sign of spooking. He tugged and jangled every part of the harness, hoping to find some reason to reject the whole rig. He finally made his way around the front of the team and back to the wagon. “Tell your father to remember this, if you have trouble with your horses, we can’t hold up the whole train.”

She translated and her father brushed the base of his hat.

“Oui.”
Dr. Le Beau spoke another chain of indecipherable words.

“Papa said, ‘My horses are six in number, and strong.’ ” The mademoiselle emphasized the last word.

Caleb nodded. For some folks, hearing the truth wasn’t enough. They had to see it to believe it. He was one of those folks, and apparently so was the doctor. No point in wasting his breath. Besides, it’d be good to have a physician along on the trail.

After making his notations on the inspection slip, Caleb signed the paper and handed it to Le Beau. “You’re free to go, sir.” He regarded the daughter. “Madamoiselle. Tuesday morning at dawn, pull your wagon into line on Boone’s Lick Road there.” He glanced at the road alongside the Western House Inn, waiting for the young woman to translate.

“
Oui
, Monsieur Reger.
Merci
.” The doctor raised his hat then climbed onto the seat beside his daughter and snapped the reins.

Caleb watched as the horses pulled the wagon onto the road. At the sound of his name, he looked over his shoulder.

Garrett leaned on the box at the back of their supply wagon and waved
him over. “I’ve got to go see somebody about the trip. Since that was your last wagon today, you want to come along?”

“Gladly.” Caleb had been stuck at The Western House all day inspecting wagons, interpreting the caravan instructions, and answering questions. Getting out and about sounded good. He climbed up onto the seat of the buckboard.

Within minutes, Garrett directed the two horses past the courthouse on Main Street, up the hill toward Lindenwood, and onto a familiar street.

Caleb angled toward his boss. “This
someone
you need to see … you failed to mention it was Miss Goben.”

“It isn’t.” Garrett didn’t look left or right. “I need to speak to her grandfather.”

“But it’s where she lives.”

The boss turned, looked straight at him. “You have a problem with seeing Miss Goben, do you?”

Caleb folded his arms at his chest. “You think I need to apologize.”

“You don’t?” Garrett’s brow creased. “Was it my imagination, or did you accuse her of coming to the store to gloat about leaving Boney at the altar?”

Caleb gulped against a dry throat.

“You got yourself spurned by a woman, did you?”

Caleb shifted on the seat. “I planned to marry. Susan told me she wasn’t ready to marry yet and asked me to wait until the fighting ended, but I received a message saying she’d married someone else.”

Garrett lifted an eyebrow. “Well, Miss Goben isn’t that woman back in …”

Caleb blew out a breath. His boss was always fishing to learn more about his past. He’d said enough and refused to bite the line. He couldn’t. Not if he wanted a fresh start.

“Here’s something else to think about.” Garrett pulled up on the reins, slowing the horses. “You can bet it’ll be a much longer ride west if you set out with enemies. Especially a woman you’ve alienated.”

Caleb gave him a curt nod. “I’ll see to it straightaway.”

“Good. I knew you had to be smarter than the two of us acted at Heinrich’s store on Tuesday.” Garrett chuckled.

“How’d you get so sharp about women, Boss?”

“Same way you did … stickin’ my foot in my mouth, one woman at a time.”

Caleb chuckled. Unfortunately, he had but a minute or two to think on what he’d say when he saw Miss Goben.

The wagon rolled to a stop in front of the gingerbread-fronted home where he’d almost attended a wedding. Caleb climbed down from the wagon and tugged his shirt sleeves straight.

Otto Goben sat on the front porch caning a chair, a felt hat shading his face.

Garrett waved on their way up the gravel walkway. “Good day, Otto.”

“It is. Come. Sit for a spell, why don’t you?”

Caleb followed Garrett to the porch at a slower pace.

Otto nodded toward two freshly caned rockers across from him. Garrett seated himself closest to the front door. Caleb couldn’t help but glance at the open door.

“You here on business or pleasure, son?” Otto asked.

Caleb squirmed a little, rested his hands on the arms of the chair and forced himself to lean back. “Business.” He looked at Garrett, waiting for him to explain.

“Are the women of the house home?” Garrett asked. “Your granddaughter? Her mother?”

“No, and yes.” Otto finished another weave and poked the end through a hole. “Wilma’s in the kitchen, but Anna’s gone to the quilting circle at Heinrich’s store.” His blue eyes focused on Caleb. Had Miss Goben told her grandfather about his rudeness to her at the store? “You need to see her?”

Caleb swallowed the lump forming in his throat. “I do, sir. I mean … I have something to tell her.”

The elder man grinned, which didn’t help Caleb’s comfort level any. “Very good then, Mr. Reger. You make yourself comfortable. She should be along sooner than later.”

“In the meantime”—Garrett stretched out his bum leg—“I wanted to speak to you about the trip.”

“We’ll be ready. You been talkin’ to old man Gut over at the saddlery?” Otto sat forward, his torso just as lean as his long legs. “I’m workin’ day and night to get these chairs done so I can pay off our debts before we go. That what you’re worried about?”

Garrett rested against the rocker. “No sir. I have no doubt you’re a man who will honor his financial commitments.”

“Good.” Otto gave Garrett a generous nod. “My wagon’s nearly ready. We’ll finish packing the bulk of it Saturday.”

“About that …” Garrett removed his hat. “I have concerns about your family joining the caravan west.”

Caleb pulled off his hat and sat up straighter. It’d be better for all concerned, including Boney, if the Gobens didn’t make the trip. Garrett obviously had reservations too. He’d assumed his boss was too busy with Boney at the wedding to notice Wilma Goben’s unsteadiness.

Otto rolled the caning and set his project on the porch floor, then leaned on the arms of his chair and met Garrett’s gaze. “You needn’t worry about my age. There’s plenty of men exploring, mining, even ranching in their fifties.”

Emery Beck was Otto’s age, if not older. Did Otto really think that was the concern?

“It’s not your age.” Garrett glanced first at the open doorway, then at the open window behind them before looking back at the older man. “It’s the women.” He spoke just above a whisper. “Your daughter doesn’t get out much. I don’t know her, except for an occasional greeting, but she seems a little—”

“Fragile?”

“Yes sir. It’s a very long and arduous journey.” Garrett blew out a long breath. “Are you certain your daughter is well enough for the trip?”

“Losih’ her son took the starch out of my Wilma.” Rubbing his bearded jaw, Otto glanced at the door. “Grief can do that to a person.”

Garrett nodded. “It surely can.”

Caleb worried the brim on his derby. Was that why Miss Goben had wavered in her decision to marry Boney? Because of her mother’s frailties? Because of grief?

“I’ve given it a lot of thought. And my granddaughter is right.” Otto scrubbed his cheek. “We can’t just sit here and wallow in Dedrick’s death. Languish in our loss. We have to get up and move toward a brighter future.”

Caleb gulped. Miss Goben had said that? That was what he was doing, trying to move into a brighter future. Perhaps he had more in common with the young woman than he’d given her credit for.

“If you’re worried about my granddaughter being able to make the trip, you can ask her about it yourself.” He angled his head toward the road.

Caleb turned. Miss Goben fairly bounced up the street until she glanced at the porch and met his gaze. Her steps slowing, she squared her shoulders.

Following his boss’s lead, Caleb rose to his feet. Her steps measured, Miss Goben strolled up the gravel walk toward them.

Caleb nodded. “Miss Goben.”

“Mr. Reger.” He’d handled ice warmer than her stare. “What is it? You didn’t have your full say at the dry goods store?”

Caleb glanced at the hat in his hand. “I owe you an apology.”

“You do.” A statement, not a question.

Not having a clue what to do with his arms, Caleb let them hang at his side. “I allowed past experience with women to cloud my judgment where your actions were concerned.”

“I see.” Her lips pursed, she raised an eyebrow. “That is your apology?”

Her grandfather’s hand flew to his mouth too late to muffle a snort.

Anna Goben was a tough one. Caleb doubted she’d have any trouble facing down a bear. “Ma’am, I misthought and misspoke, and for that I am sorry. Please accept my humble apology.”

“You did. I do.” A blush pinked her neck and turned her cheeks red. She moistened her lips. “Apology accepted, Mr. Reger.”

“Thank you.” Despite the cool breeze causing the curtains in the window to flutter, Caleb fought the impulse to fan himself with his hat. Miss Goben’s effects on him were puzzling, to say the least. He wanted to maintain that she was fickle and remain angry with her. But at the same time, he felt her grief over the loss of her brother and the frailty of her mother.

They’d made their peace, but would it make this trip west, in such close proximity, any easier? He still didn’t believe the trail was the proper place for this single young woman and her fractured family.

A
whistled tune floated on the air from Blanchette Creek. Anna looked up from the worktable, her quill poised over the stationery. Her bay pony stood tethered to a nearby tree, ears perked. A crooked row of wagons wearing new white bonnets lined the edge of Boone’s Lick Road. Großvater, like many of the other folks in the Company, had sold his house and most of his belongings. Now they were living out of a more portable accommodation, camped between the creek and the road. As of that afternoon, the dressed-up buckboard wagon was to be their home for the next five months. This was their last night in Saint Charles before their Tuesday morning departure.