A Daughter's Quest

by Lena Nelson Dooley

  The sheriff sat back down and pulled a tablet and pencil from the top drawer of his desk. “I can’t stop you from going, so I’ll write the directions so you won’t get lost, but I still don’t think it’s a good idea.

  “I’ll go with her.”

  Hans stuck his hands in the back pockets of his trousers. So much for forgetting about Constance Miller. Not only would she be in his thoughts, he was going to spend at least a day with her.

  “Oh, but I couldn’t take you away from your work.” She started to reach for his arm, but then let her hand drop. He followed her actions with his gaze.

  He turned to look in her beautiful face, a face that held a very becoming blush. “Work’s a mite slow right now.” He watched her indecision dissolve into acceptance. “It might take most of the day, so I’ll pick you up at the hotel at nine o’clock in the morning, if that’s all right with you.”

  Her nod was almost imperceptible.

  “Here are the directions.” Andrew handed the piece of paper to him. “I think you know where this is.”

  Hans studied the notes and crude drawing. “Ja, I know the place. We won’t have any trouble finding it.” He stuck the paper in his shirt pocket and turned to go.

  “Thank you, Mr. Van de Kieft.” Her soft words followed him into the street, the melody of them once again playing on his heart.

  As expected, Hans didn’t get much sleep that night, either. At one point, he stood by his bedroom window and stared at the stars. “Vader God, why is this happening to me?”

  When he spoke out loud to the Lord, he wished for an audible answer in return, but it didn’t come. However, peace stole over his heart. Maybe God had everything under control. Maybe it was His will for Hans to spend time with this woman.

  Since she had expressed her desire to return to Arkansas, he needed to guard his heart. If he got too close to her, he would be hurt when she left. When he finally fell asleep, he slept longer than he planned and had to hurry to get everything ready to pick her up.

  Nine o’clock had passed when he pulled the wagon up in front of the hotel. While he tied the reins to the hitching post, Constance came out on the boardwalk.

  “Will I need a parasol to protect me from the sun?”

  Because the walkway was a couple of feet from the level of the street, Hans had to look up at her. “Yes, bring one. The road we’ll follow has shade in some places, but not in others.”

  He stood with his hands fisted on his hips and watched her go back into the building. Her clothes were more sensible for a ride than anything he’d seen on her so far. The brown skirt and matching top wouldn’t show the dust too much, and the fullness of the skirt would make it easier for her to get up into the wagon. Of course, he would be glad to help her. As tiny as she was, he could just swing her up. That thought reminded him of the other times he had touched her. The familiar knot tied itself in his midsection.

  As soon as they passed the edge of town, trees lined the roadway. Even though the leaves on many were just coming out, they provided respite from the sun. Constance folded her sunshade and laid it behind her in the conveyance. “What’s this stuff in the back of the wagon?”

  She eyed the folded quilt as if it were a coiled serpent. After she returned to the hotel yesterday, all kinds of doubts tormented her. Could she really trust this man? He had protected her from harm twice before, but were his intentions honorable today? Maybe possible outlaws weren’t the only danger on the trip.

  “It will take us more than an hour to reach the farm.” The man didn’t take his eyes off the road when he talked to her. “The basket contains food for our lunch, and I brought the quilt in case we have to eat on the ground.”

  “Thank you.” She was always thanking the man. Why hadn’t she realized that they would need to eat while they were gone? She could have asked the hotel kitchen to prepare them something. If she were back home, she would have known what to do. Here she felt almost like a fish out of water. Everything was topsy-turvy, and she didn’t always think straight.

  They rode along for more than an hour without saying anything. Constance watched the countryside change from fairly flat land with lots of trees to small rolling hills with tall grasses blowing in the wind. Soon after they left the shelter of sparse shade, she once again unfurled her parasol. Holding it kept her hands busy.

  Mr. Van de Kieft wasn’t talkative. At first, she was glad. What did they have to talk about anyway? Then she decided that he was either just being stubborn or he was ignoring her. She didn’t like to feel ignored.

  “Have you always lived in Browning City?” Her question must have startled him, because he gave a slight jump.

  He turned toward her and studied her expression for a moment. “Not always.”

  Was that all he was going to say? “So where did you live before?”

  He kept his eyes on the road ahead. “My family came here from the Netherlands when I was only ten years old. We had a farm north of Browning City.”

  Once again, silence stretched between them. When it became uncomfortable to Constance, she asked another question. “You said ‘had.’ Are they not there now?”

  When he shook his head, the shiny blond hairs that barely touched his collar stirred in the soft breeze. “No. My father’s only brother and his family came to America after we did. He settled in Pennsylvania. My parents decided to move close to them.”

  Constance stared at him. “And you didn’t go with them?”

  He guided the horses around a bend in the road before he answered. “I was serving as an apprentice to the blacksmith and didn’t want to go.” He glanced at her as if looking for her reaction.

  “Do you hear from them?”

  “Ja, we write letters all the time.”

  When they finally turned down the lane that led to the farm, Constance was glad Hans had thought to bring food. Her stomach gave a very unladylike rumble.

  “Are you hungry?” His words surprised her, because he hadn’t said anything for quite a while.

  “I believe I am.” How embarrassing! Because they were once again riding in speckled shade, she folded her parasol and put it behind her.

  “We should be at the house pretty soon. Let’s check to see if anyone is living there first.”

  They soon rounded a bend in the lane that revealed a meadow reaching all the way to the edge of a bluff. Although she could hear the river flowing below, they seemed to be high above it. On the other side of the meadow, a house nestled between trees at the edge of a forest. What a beautiful setting for a home.

  “The house looks deserted.” Hans pulled on the reins, and the team came to a full stop. “If you want to, we could eat closer to the edge of the bluff, and you can take in the view.”

  She turned toward him. “That’s thoughtful. I would enjoy it very much.”

  “The horses have plenty of grass to eat here. After we’ve finished our meal, I’ll try to find some place to water them.”

  Hans set the brake and stepped over the side of the wagon. When he was on the ground, he turned and placed his hands on her waist. Before she realized what was happening, she stood on the ground beside him. It took a moment for her to catch her breath. The man really was strong to lift her so effortlessly over the side of the vehicle. The warm imprint of his hands on her waist lingered, making her uncomfortable.

  He headed toward the back of the wagon, and she followed. “I can carry the quilt.” She tried not to sound breathless but didn’t quite make it.

  “Mary was kind enough to fix the food for us.” Hans smiled at Constance. “She said to tell you to enjoy it.”

  “I’ll be sure to thank her the next time I see her.”

  Soon the quilt was spread under the shade of a tree far enough away from the edge of the bluff to be comfortably safe. Constance enjoyed the view while Hans unpacked the picnic basket. The tantalizing fragrance of fried chicken called to her stomach, and it rumbled a response.

  “I can’t exactly remember m
y geography. Is that area across the river still Iowa?”

  Hans looked up from his task. “No. That’s Illinois. The river is the eastern boundary of Iowa.” He pulled a large jug of fresh water and two tin cups from the basket. “Our food is ready.”

  Constance sat on the other side of the quilt. Hans was glad he could face her and study her while they ate. After she finished arranging her skirt around her, he handed her a blue granite plate, a silver fork, and a red-checked napkin.

  The food tasted wonderful out in the spring air. Besides the chicken, Mary had included biscuits, cheese, and pound cake. As they ate, their conversation took many turns, but they learned a lot about each other. For the first time, Hans felt really comfortable around Constance. Comfortable enough to ask the question that burned a hole in his heart and mind.

  “Why did your father insist on you finding this Mr. Mitchell?”

  Constance paused with her tin cup halfway to her mouth. Her gaze bore into his before she turned her eyes away from him. For a moment, he didn’t think she was going to answer.

  “He wanted me to give him a message.”

  “It must be a very important message.” He waited for her response that never came.

  The way she stayed turned away and wouldn’t look at him confirmed the suspicions Hans harbored. There was much more to the story than she was willing to reveal. What was she hiding? If it wasn’t something bad, why was she so secretive?

  five

  Constance walked toward the house. Hans met her going the opposite direction, leading the horses to the spring-fed pool they found quite a ways into the woods. While he watered them, she gazed all around the meadow. The house looked pretty large. Maybe the Mitchell family needed a lot of space. She wondered how many people lived here.

  Each side of the building contained at least two windows. She had never seen this many on a house in the country before. Hoping to get a look inside, she pushed aside the bushes that grew in every direction from their position beside the house. Unfortunately, curtains obstructed her view of the room. After trying two more windows and receiving several scratches on her hands, she gave up. She walked the perimeter of the house at a distance far enough away to avoid touching the prickly plants.

  The walls looked sound. Constance stepped up on the front porch and turned around. Since the meadow gradually rose from the edge of the bluff to the level of the house, she could see far into the distance. Even though she missed the mountains, she would enjoy seeing a view like this every morning. Facing east, the morning sunlight would warm the house, but when the heat of the afternoon sun beat down, the trees surrounding three sides of the house would keep it cool.

  Constance moved over by one of the narrow, square columns supporting the roof of the porch. If she owned a house like this, she would put a couple of rocking chairs out here. It would be a good place to sit in the evening, watching twilight creep across the landscape.

  After enjoying this scenario, she turned to check the front door. If it wasn’t locked, maybe she could slip into the house. She had never gone into anyone’s house without them inviting her in, but the place was deserted. It wouldn’t hurt to look around.

  Just as the latch clicked open, Hans came around the side of the house. “It’s time we started back.”

  Disappointed, she pulled the door closed again. She wanted to be alone when she checked out the house. At least now that she knew the way to the farm, she could come by herself.

  After they were seated in the wagon, Hans clicked his tongue to the two horses. “There’s another farmhouse not too far from here. Maybe we could stop and see if the neighbors know anything about this family.”

  Constance turned to look at him. “That would be helpful. Tha—” She gulped on that word.

  “Constance, you don’t have to thank me for every little thing I do.” He sounded amused.

  She gripped her hands in her lap. “My mother taught me to be polite.” She peeked up at him.

  He nodded, but she noticed he kept his thoughts to himself.

  She did too. Constance had a lot to think about. Why would a family just leave such a nice place sitting empty? Where did they go? When did they plan to come back? Would they ever come back?

  Hans turned the team onto a lane that led back through a copse of trees. He knew there was a farm on the other side.

  Soon the wagon emerged into an open field with a house on the east side.

  “Hallo.” His shout must have startled Constance, because she jerked and grabbed onto the seat. “Anybody home?”

  A man carrying a pitchfork came out of the barn and started toward them with the tool across one shoulder. They met halfway to the house.

  “What kin I do for you?”

  Good, he was friendly. Hans knew that not all farmers liked people coming onto their land. Since this house was hidden from the road, he had been afraid the owner wouldn’t welcome them.

  Hans hopped out of the wagon and shook the man’s hand. “We’re trying to find out something about the Mitchell family who live between here and the river.”

  “You and your missus want to come up to the house for a cold drink of water?”

  Hans knew that if the man knew they were unmarried and traveling alone, he would get the wrong idea about Constance, so he didn’t correct the man. He wasn’t sure Constance noticed. If she had any questions, he would answer them after they were on the road again.

  “We had some just a bit ago. Thank you, anyway. What can you tell me about the Mitchells?”

  “You’re not the law, are you? No one’s in trouble?”

  Hans shook his head. “Constance’s father wanted her to look up his army buddy, Jim.”

  The farmer stuck the pitchfork into the dirt and leaned one arm on the top. “Jim and his brother came back after the war.” He pulled a bandanna out of the back pocket of his overalls and wiped the sweat from his forehead. “They was ‘round here for a couple of years.” He stuffed the handkerchief back into the pocket but left most of it hanging out, probably to dry.

  “About a year ago, both the old man and his wife took real sick. The brothers tried to nurse them back to health, but it didn’t work. After their parents died, those boys hightailed it out of here, and we ain’t heard from them since.” He put his other arm across the one on the handle of the tool. “Can I help you with anything else?”

  Hans scuffed his toe through the dirt on the lane. “Has anyone else been interested in the farm?”

  “Not so’s I know. Jim and his brother asked us to look after the place for them. We keep an eye on it, but I haven’t seen anyone nosing around.”

  Hans studied the man’s expression. He felt sure the farmer was telling the truth, but since this farm was cut off from the road by all the trees, the man might not know if anyone went up there.

  “Thank you for the information.” Hans stuck out his hand, and the farmer shook it before hefting the pitchfork back across his shoulder.

  The man pointed to a grassy area on the other side of the lane. “You can turn your wagon around over there. There ain’t no soft spots where you kin get stuck.”

  Back out on the road, Constance finally spoke. “You didn’t tell him we weren’t married.”

  Hans nodded. “I know.”

  “Why not?”

  He glanced at her to see if she looked angry. Thankfully, she didn’t. “I thought it would be better for your reputation if he didn’t think you were single.”

  “But isn’t that lying?”

  “I didn’t tell a lie. I just let him think what he wanted to.”

  This conversation was taking them nowhere. Hans wished he could get her to open up to him and tell him the real reason she was so intent on finding Jim Mitchell. There could be all kinds of reasons. Maybe her father promised her to Mr. Mitchell, and he wanted her to fulfill the promise. But she didn’t look as if she were trying to find her intended.

  Could there be some other, less legal reason she wanted to find the
man? That thought kept nibbling at him, making him feel unsettled.

  They arrived back in Browning City mid-afternoon. Constance felt tired. She didn’t think she would have been so exhausted if she’d been able to get the man to carry on a conversation on the long trek. As it was, she felt that Hans didn’t quite trust her. Maybe he guessed that there was more to her promise than she had told him. There was, but it wasn’t really any of his business. Talking about unimportant things would have made the time go faster.

  She tried to get him to notice the country they drove through. His monosyllabic answers effectively cut any conversation short. Constance would have just as well traveled alone for all the company he was.

  Hans stopped the wagon in front of the hotel and hopped out. By the time Constance stood up, he was on her side of the wagon, ready to help her down. This time, he took her hand and held her steady as she stepped over the side onto a spoke of the front wheel.

  When she stood on the ground, she looked up into his face. “I appreciate the way you helped me today.”

  “Constance…Hans.” Mary came out the front door of the hotel. “I’ve been looking for you. I guess I didn’t realize it would take this long to go to the farm.” She stood on the boardwalk and smiled at them.

  Hans offered Constance his arm and escorted her to the steps where the boardwalk broke for the alley. By the time they were at the top of the steps, Mary stood beside them.

  Constance let go of his elbow and turned to the pastor’s wife. “Why were you looking for us?”

  “Actually, I was looking for you.” Mary took Constance’s arm and pulled her toward the hotel lobby. “Let’s sit in here so I can tell you what I found out.”

  After the two women waved at Hans as he departed, they sat on a sofa beside one wall. A tall bushy plant made the spot feel secluded.

  Mary looked as if she were about to explode with excitement. “Mrs. Barker owns the boardinghouse.”

  “I’ve noticed it on the other side of town.”

  “Well, she’s a really good cook, but she doesn’t like to bake. She had a woman who did all her baking, but the woman fell and broke her leg. Mrs. Barker needs another cook. I thought you might like to do it, if you know how to bake, that is. You would get a free room at the boardinghouse, and she’d pay you some, too.” Mary talked so fast, Constance couldn’t get a word in edgewise. “I know you won’t be here long, but maybe you could stay until the other cook is on her feet and able to work again.” When she stopped talking, she turned an expectant expression toward Constance.