Mona Hodgson - [Hearts Seeking Home 01]

by Prairie Song

  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.

  30

  Her 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.

  “They’re fine too. Le Doc’s wife, daughter, and the children are with the Pembertons for supper.” Caleb
pointed to the Pemberton camp. “Otto Goben helped Arven Beck pull what was left of the hub off the wagon. The rest of the men are retying his load while they wait for Tom Brenner to bring a new wheel. He should be able to get one at a small settlement up the road.”

  “They’ll have it ready to roll by morning?”

  “That’s what they said.”

  Garrett watched his stallion pass, tethered to the back of the supply wagon. “There’s more I need to know.”

  Caleb’s brow creased. “Boss?” He had yet to look Garrett in the eye.

  “Looked to me like somebody was throwin’ kerosene on their fire. What do you know about that?”

  The trail hand looked away.

  Garrett gripped Caleb’s elbow. “I have my suspicions, but you need to tell me what you know.” He let go. “For all our sakes, including Anna’s.”

  “It was liquor. Anna found some bottles in her mother’s things and tossed them into the fire.”

  “Wilma Goben had been drinking before she boarded the paddle wheeler, hadn’t she?”

  Caleb nodded. “After Anna tossed the bottles, her mother ran away. I followed her into the draw. We had a good conversation.”

  “You told her you know about her drinking?”

  “I did. Yes. And I think, at least, I hope the frightening events of the day were enough to scare her into temperance.”

  “I’m afraid you may be a little naive when it comes to drunks.”

  A shadow darkened Caleb’s eyes. “I know more than I should, sir.”

  Garrett was more curious than ever about his trail hand’s family history, but he couldn’t get into it right now. Too much to tend to before twilight left them with only moonlight and candles to work with.

  “So much as a hint of her hittin’ the bottle again, and the Gobens are headed back to Missouri with the first go-backers we see.”

  Caleb set his jaw. Ready to admit it or not, everyone knew he was sweet on Anna Goben.

  It made no difference to Garrett how Caleb felt about Anna. It couldn’t matter. Not to a leader who had close to four dozen folks to look out for. “You know what her mother did. She put everyone and everything on that ferry in harm’s way. And you know as well as I do that because of her drinking, her daughter, you, and Boney could have lost your lives.”

  Caleb rolled the lead rope around his hand. “But we didn’t.”

  “This time.”

  “They’ll be all right, Boss. Anna saw to it her mother doesn’t have any liquor left in the wagon.”

  “Until she talks someone else out of theirs or we reach an outpost.”

  “We need to keep a closer watch on her, is all.”

  “Well, it won’t be you or Boney doin’ it. You two are heading out to do some scouting. Thursday or Friday. I’ll let you know when I decide which it is.”

  His jaw tight, Caleb nodded and then walked his horse toward the pasture where the others grazed their animals.

  Caleb and Boney both had too much emotion invested in the Goben family to be objective. Garrett needed to be the one to keep watch after the Gobens, starting first thing in the morning. In the meantime, he’d check the progress on the wheel.

  Tuesday evening, Caroline sat on the floorboard, wedged between her trunk and a barrel. The friendship album quilt from the Saint Charles quilting circle warmed her legs. Her bent knees held the journal that supported a sheet of stationery.

  Davonna Kamden, having grown tired of her knitting, lay on her horsehair mattress repeating the Twenty-third Psalm.

  “The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want.”

  Maisie’s peaceful face glowed in the lamplight. Lyall and Duff had finally drifted off to sleep too.

  “He leadeth me beside the still waters …”

  The verse brought to mind the day’s events. The water was anything but still when Anna and her mother disappeared into its depths.

  Oliver had been helping her and Rhoda set the wagon when shouts from the bank summoned those who had already crossed back to the river’s edge. Caroline had watched in breathless dread as they’d lost sight of Wilma Goben. Then Anna. And watched in relief as Caleb and Boney reached Anna and her mother and brought them to safety. She’d celebrated with the others as all four boarded the ferry, dripping wet and chilled but alive. Safe.

  “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death …”

  Caroline had heard the talk on the riverbank. It was no surprise to hear the proclamations that Wilma Goben liked her drink. Caroline had lived in her brother-in-law’s house for too long not to recognize the signs. She’d piggybacked on her sister’s sorrow, trying to protect the family secret. Time after time, she’d heard Jewell make excuses for Jack. Before long, she’d started doing the same thing. To protect the family. But from what? Secrecy didn’t change the truth, and shrouding it in darkness only added loneliness and fear to the hiding.

  Poor Anna.

  “Thy rod and thy staff they comfort me …”

  Caroline smoothed the stationery and dipped the quill.

  My Dear Sister, Jewell,

  Hattie started writing the quilting circular yesterday. We will all add to it. But I wanted to pen a more personal letter for you alone.

  I hope you and the children are well. Jack, too. In fact, I pray he is better.

  Was it too much to hope he was less crabby, kinder now that she was gone?

  I am well. Except for missing my family, I am feeling better than I have felt since Phillip left for the war. Most days, we travel fifteen to twenty miles. The walking is doing me good. Seeing the beauty of God’s vast creation warms my heart as the sun warms my skin. Having the three youngest Kamden children and their grandmother to care for is at times a great challenge, but the work gives me purpose. And—

  Mrs. Kamden paused before continuing her recitation.

  “Thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over …”

  Jewell, this past Sunday, I went for a horseback ride. With Garrett Cowlishaw. Yes, the very same man I rebuked when, a stranger, he stopped to help us with the broken wagon wheel. Garrett and I will ride again this Sunday, weather permitting.

  Caroline stilled her hand and moistened her lips. Oh, how she wished her sister were here for a chat over tea. She had so much to share with her. Trying to sort her thoughts, she dipped the quill again.

  I feel a change, Sister. I loved Phillip and gave him my heart. Some might say that because Phillip died, my heart is mine to give again. But thinking about another man with affection feel foreing. And wonderful.

  Do you think it wrong for me to want to love and be loved again?

  31

  The memory of Anna’s face the night before, wrought with fear and pain and then relief drove Caleb up the line of wagons toward the Goben camp.

  The past several days had passed in a swirl of early morning chats with Anna, reports of thefts, Sunday supper with Anna, countless interruptions, river rescues, and pep talks. All since he’d made the decision to tell Anna the truth and all since he and Anna kissed on Saturday. Truth was, he was long overdue for another kiss.

  He cared deeply for Anna despite his resolve not to. He might even have loved her. The problem was Anna’s family depended on her for their well-being and there might not be a permanent place for him in her life. He admired her commitment to her mother and her grandfather, but it was wrong for them to expect so much of her.

  Anna deserved a life of her own, of her choosing, regardless of what her mother decided to do with hers. Wilma Goben would either let yesterday’s frightening river incident and his frank talk with her in the draw help her change her course, or she wouldn’t.

  Either way, he couldn’t stand by and let Anna end up like Billy and the others in his squad—victims of his disastrous choices. Anna needed to know the truth about him, so she could see what her mother’s bad habit could … would do to her.

  The campfire at the Gobens’ wagon was abandoned. The yoke was empty. Anna’s hammoc
k was down, and breakfast things were set out on the table, so the women had to be close by. Caleb stood still, listening. He didn’t hear any voices on the other side of the canvas, so perhaps Anna had stepped away for a moment.

  A sudden groan drew him closer to the wagon.

  “Anna?” Wilma’s weak voice sounded a mile away. “Is that you, Anna?”

  “No ma’am. It’s Caleb Reger.”

  “Oh. I’m afraid I’m under the weather today.” Another groan. “Do you see Anna?”

  “No ma’am. I thought maybe she was in with you.”

  “I haven’t seen her yet this morning. I can’t blame her. I caused a lot of trouble yesterday.”

  “I heard you groaning. Are you in pain?”

  “My head is pounding something fierce.”

  Caleb nodded as if she could see him through the canvas.

  “What are you doing here?” Anna’s voice behind him sounded as if she’d run into Skins, not a man she’d kissed just days ago. “My mother is still in bed.”

  Caleb turned. “Yes. I mean I knew she was still in the wagon.” He swallowed. “I came to check on her. To see you.”

  Anna set a full bucket on the ground beneath the water barrel. “Now is not a good time.” She wasn’t looking at him.

  “What’s wrong? What happened?”

  Her shoulders squared; her lips pressed together.

  “Anna, I understand you being upset.”

  “You do?”

  “Yes, of course I do.” He took a step toward her. “You had a very trying day. And night.”

  “And now I have work to do.” She backed away, still avoiding his gaze.

  “I can help. Let me help.”

  “Not this time.” Anna wiped her hands on her apron. “Please go.”

  “But—”

  “Please.”

  “Very well. If that’s what you truly want.”

  “It is.”

  His throat tightening, Caleb brushed the brim of his hat. “I’d ask the good doctor if he has any catnip herbs in his apothecary. Catnip tea might help your mother with her sick headache.”

  Her jaw set, Anna spun and walked to the box at the back of the wagon.