Mona Hodgson - [Hearts Seeking Home 01] (9 page)

“Pssst. Miss Caroline.” The children’s grandmother waved her over to the wagon, where she sat perched on the seat like a peacock. Davonna Kamden adjusted her feathered bonnet, a hat better suited to Memphis than the prairie that lay a few weeks ahead of them. “I haven’t seen Mr. Cowlishaw all morning. Wherever did our captain gallop off to?”

“Miss Hattie told me Mr. Cowlishaw rode ahead to scout our path.”

“Oh no.” Mrs. Kamden’s gaze darted to the left, then to the right. “Back in Saint Charles, I heard talk of them bushwhackers that raided farms and ranches. Is there going to be trouble?”

Maisie’s green eyes widened. “Are those bad men following us?”

Caroline gave the elder woman a look she hoped would encourage keeping such concerns to herself then looked at the little girl. “Maisie, everything is fine. There are no bad men following us.” At least not directly.

“Miss Caroline?” Lyall tugged her apron, his face pinched. “How do you know?”

“Mr. Cowlishaw and his brave trail hands are seeing to our safety.” She may not approve of Garrett Cowlishaw’s Confederate affinities or of his use of the words
dithering wife
in reference to Anna Goben, but she had full confidence in his ability to lead them. “In the meantime, do you think it would be fun to play a game?”

“Aye, let’s.” Duff pushed his canvas cap back on his head. “I like games.”

“Good.” Now all she had to do was come up with one. For more than a year, she’d lived with two nieces and a nephew close in age to these three. What would Mary, Cora, and Gilbert enjoy doing to pass the time? “To play the game, we all need to be walking.”

“My son gave me a job to do.” Mrs. Kamden raised the reins she held in her hand. “I’m not going to play your game.”

Whatever the game proved to be, she’d intended it for the children, not for
their gran. Something wasn’t quite right with Davonna Kamden, and because of it, she was proving to be much more of a challenge than any of the children. And a distraction.

Caroline recalled Garrett Cowlishaw’s last attempt to discourage her from making the trip west.

“It’s going to be a difficult journey… You’ll be traveling with a family you don’t really know… Carrying tremendous responsibilities.”

The captain of the caravan didn’t think she could meet the responsibilities and complete the journey.

Caroline sighed. Unfortunately, she was no longer sure she could prove the man wrong.

Garrett sat on a tree stump, watching the first wagons pull into the clearing. Following Boney’s lead, the others formed a semicircle in front of the stand of oak.

Even in a meadow teeming with wagons, animals, and people, Caroline Milburn managed to capture his attention. The young widow strolled playfully with the three youngest Kamden children in her charge. Caroline spun left and right with Maisie, Lyall, and Duff, her gingham skirts billowing with each spin.

He looked away so as not to be accused of staring.

“Captain!” Three-year-old Maisie darted toward him. “Captain!”

Her brothers joined her. Six-year-old Duff tugged the kerchief knotted at his neck. “What do you see, Captain Cowlishaw?”

Garrett looked at Caroline, who followed the children at a slower pace. “What do I see?”

“Uh, yes. What do you see around you?” Caroline tipped her head up, raising the brim on her bonnet. Her eyes were as bright green as the new leaves on the trees.

What did he see? A woman who was turning out to be very good with the children, strangers or not. A resourceful woman. A woman who made him wish he hadn’t gone to war, or at least hadn’t fought on the opposing side. Only their first day on the road and he was already doing a poor job of avoiding her.

“It’s a game we’re playing. Right now, we are looking for items that start with the letter
c
, Captain Cowlishaw.” A smile edged Caroline’s mouth.

“The game is making my toes better.” Maisie held up a cloth rabbit. “Her toes too.”

Lyall sighed. “Well, my legs still hurt.”

“Children.” The nanny swatted the air between them. “The captain doesn’t have time for our games.”

“Aha.” Garrett raised a pointed finger, looking straight at Maisie. “I know what I see that starts with a
c
. A cherub.” Chuckling, he tapped the little girl on the nose. “I see a cherub.”

All three of the children laughed, and so did their nanny. The melody charmed his heart, then caused it to ache. He’d expected to have children with Corliss. No doubt, Caroline had planned on having children of her own before the colonel died.

“Captain?”

Garrett shifted his attention to Lyall, who was bent and rubbing his right leg.

“What about my legs, Captain? They still hurt.”

“I’d rub some mint poultice on them to fight the cramping.” Garrett patted the boy’s shoulder then looked at the woman with a red curl dangling at her neck. “There should be mint sprouting along the creek here. That should fix you right up, Lyall.” He brushed the brim of his hat. “Ma’am, you be sure and let me know if you don’t find any.”

“I will.” She moistened her lips. “Thank you.”

Now, if only he had a clue about what to use as a salve for his aching heart.

A
nna strolled toward the pasture, the lead rope slack in her hand. Four oxen followed at her heels as she mingled with other folks doing the same with their animals. Dr. Le Beau’s daughter, Camille, approached with an empty water pail in each hand, her smile warm.

“Good evening.”

“
Bonsoir
. Good evening.” Long hair the color of coal lay over one shoulder, tied with a forest-green ribbon.

Anna waved as they passed, and Camille’s smile deepened. Camille wasn’t more than a year younger than her, and would likely be enjoyable to talk to if they both weren’t so busy caring for family and tending to chores.

“Bonsoir,” Anna said quietly, trying out the strange word. With her German accent, it didn’t sound even close to Camille’s version. Camille had already agreed to give Hattie French lessons. If Anna had time, it’d be fun to learn a third language, but she’d be doing well to keep up with the oxen tonight.

Despite the rough start to the morning—having to say good-bye to Emilie and the others in Saint Charles, only to face the fussy Mr. Reger—her first day on the road had been a good one. Mutter had ridden in the wagon seat for most of the fifteen or more miles but seemed resolved to make the most of the journey. If not for her own sake, for Anna’s. Perhaps Großvater had convinced her to ease up some. Whatever the motivation, Anna was grateful for the reprieve from Mutter’s objections. And if Mutter had looked for the bottles Anna had buried on the banks of Blanchette Creek last night, she kept their absence a secret.

When the lead rope stretched taut, Anna slowed her steps and drew in a deep breath. The fragrance of campfires and cook pots scented the air. With the first day nearly over, Anna turned her thoughts to the previous night. While still camped in Saint Charles, Mutter had laid claim to the hammock inside the wagon, and Anna had slept curled atop her trunk. Tonight, she’d sleep outside. Großvater had carefully positioned their wagon in the crooked semicircle so she’d have a tree to stretch her hammock to from the wagon.

She watched as Boney stepped out from between two wagons a few yards from her. He smiled but quickly darted away. Anna sighed as she tied the rope around a low branch. She and Boney hadn’t spoken more than polite greetings since she’d called off the wedding. She missed visiting with him and hoped they could return to being friends. This would be an even longer journey if she and Boney weren’t able to clear the air between them. It would already be plenty long with Mr. Reger questioning her every move.

“More, Mr. Caleb. More.”

Anna turned toward the squealing voice. About twenty yards away, near the creek, a passel of children followed Caleb Reger and his chestnut Pacer. Little Gabi Wainwright sat strapped in the saddle, with Mr. Reger’s hand cradling her back. Like a shepherd, Blair Kamden herded the younger children, including her siblings, Mary Alice Brenner’s twins, and the three Zanzucchi boys.

If Anna didn’t have Mutter to look after and supper to fix, she’d be tempted to take Molasses from the pasture and offer rides. That was, if she weren’t concerned about doing something wrong within Mr. Reger’s line of vision and inviting another of his smoldering speeches.

This evening, he hardly resembled that strict taskmaster. His hat nowhere to be seen and his hair tousled, he sidestepped alongside the horse. His baritone chuckle carried on the air along with the giggles of the children, and the infectious sound caused a surprising burst of laughter from Anna.

Looking up, he smiled at her. One of the oxen jerked the rope, catching her off guard and causing her to lose her footing and her balance. When her attempts to regain stability failed, Anna fell to the ground. Hardly missing a beat, she scrambled to her feet and grabbed the lead rope, embarrassment burning the tips of her ears.

Mean or nice, Caleb Reger was now, officially, an unwelcome distraction.

“Are you all right?” he called.

“Yes.” Except that her pride had taken another fall, and any bruise on her backside wouldn’t prove nearly as painful.

“Miss Caroline.”

Caroline looked up from Maisie’s tangled hair. Lyall stood beside the stool.

“When are you going to the creek?” he asked.

She sighed. “Not now, Lyall.” Could he not see how busy she was? How busy she’d been all day?

“But my leg hurts worser. And
Mither
said we can’t go without the sun.”

Caroline glanced up at the purple rays of the sun settling behind clouds near the horizon.

The afternoon walk hadn’t been much different from their morning walk, except that she’d run out of games to keep the children occupied. If Angus wasn’t helping his father grease wheels and Blair wasn’t helping Maren prepare supper, she’d be tempted to have them take the younger children to the creek after the mint for a poultice. Still, it was best she went herself. They didn’t need to add poison ivy to their list of complaints.

“Aaaackkk!” Davonna Kamden jumped back and stared at the rope that had suddenly appeared around the butter churn.

Duff gasped as he darted toward her. “Oh no. Gran.” Contrition creased his forehead as he quickly retrieved the rope. “I didn’t mean to throw it so hard.”

His grandmother huffed. “I’ll have no cowboys in my kitchen.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Miss Caroline?” Lyall asked.

Caroline drew in a deep breath and turned to face Duff’s brother. “Lyall.”

“The captain said to get polcy at the creek.”

“He said I’d find the mint for the poultice at the creek.” Caroline’s fingers chased a knot to the end of a lock of Maisie’s light brown hair.

“My legs hurt too.” Maisie squirmed.

“Be still,” Caroline said.

“Miss Caroline?”

She didn’t bother to look at Lyall. The way this was going, come morning, she’d still be untangling Maisie’s hair.

“Lyall.” Rhoda stood behind a sizzling cast-iron skillet.

“Yes ma’am.”

“Whose idea was it that your sister follow you through the trees?”