by Prairie Song
“Anna, you found her already gone.” Caroline rested her hands on Anna’s knee. “Garrett checked her. And Dr. Le Beau—”
“I know. But my heart can’t believe it.” Her lips quivering, Anna shook her head again. “I should have left the store with her.”
Caroline knew about should have feelings too. Anytime someone you loved died, you second guessed your actions. And they always came up short.
“First, he buried his wife, then his grandson. And now his daughter. Poor Großvater. I should be with him.”
“Caleb will take care of him.”
Anna hung her head.
Caroline took the cup from Anna and set it on a barrel. After lowering herself to the mattress, she drew her friend into an embrace. Anna’s head nestled against Caroline’s shoulder as they let fresh tears fall. “Lord Jesus. You see us.”
God had nudged Caroline forward, drawn her into a brighter future. Anna’s situation was different, but God would do the same for Anna … in time. Caroline had to believe that for her friend.
Caleb walked alongside Otto on the road to Rock Creek, holding the oxen’s lead rope. He chose his path carefully to avoid jostling the wagon. Otto stared straight ahead, but Caleb doubted he saw much. His chest scarcely lifted, his breaths shallow. Otto hadn’t spoken a word since leaving camp.
The image of Anna in pain haunted Caleb. All he’d wanted to do was stay. Hold her. Comfort her. But on the one occasion she looked directly at him, all he could see was anger. The only words she’d spoken to him were in protest, saying she should be taking her mother’s body into town, not him. But Otto had insisted she remain there with her friends.
Caleb took his hat off and put it right back on. In the silence, his past was on the attack. He could have done more. Whether Anna would listen to him or not, he could have said more to Wilma. If he’d told her everything, maybe he could have made her see the destruction that lay ahead of her. Maybe he could have saved her.
There had to be some way to make his own redemption from the bottle beneficial to someone. If he couldn’t comfort the woman he cared for, he’d at least try to be of some help to her grandfather.
“Sir.”
Otto drew in a halting breath.
“Are you all right?”
Otto shook his head. “I’m carrying my daughter’s dead body to be buried among strangers. It will take time.”
Caleb knew about the passing of time but wasn’t as confident about time making that much of a difference.
“Alcohol killed her.”
Caleb felt his throat tighten with a fresh onslaught of remorse, and nodded.
“Wilma was in the store with Anna. I didn’t know—” Otto’s voice broke. “You did all you could for her.”
Otto shook his head, kicking a clot of dirt in his path. “You know my Wilma got hold of rotgut? It’s poison.”
“I suspected as much. Saw a merchant’s wagon and heard bottles rattling inside. Even suspected trade whiskey.” Caleb blew out a long breath. “Thought he was far enough ahead of us … I should’ve done more. I’m sorry.”
Otto groaned and wiped his face with the back of his arm. “We all tried to help her. Especially Anna. She tried so hard to stop Wilma from drinking, to protect her from the bottle.”
Caleb nodded, fighting the lump in his throat. “My family tried to do the same thing for me.”
“You drink?”
“I did. I was lost to it. But not anymore. Not since the war.”
“How could you give it up, and my Wilma couldn’t?”
“Something terrible happened. I might have been able to stop it, had I been sober.”
“The trouble I saw in your eyes?”
“Yes sir.”
“You told Wilma?”
“About the drinking. Told her I understood alcohol’s appeal.”
“That explains my granddaughter’s sudden change of heart toward you.”
Caleb stopped to face Otto. “It does?”
“Wilma would have told Anna.” Otto dragged a weathered hand over his face and glanced back at the wagon. “God rest her soul, it wouldn’t surprise me if my Wilma didn’t say the drinking was in your past.” He hung his head. “She may have even used that to keep Anna from holding her to account.”
His heart stinging, Caleb wiped his mouth. Why hadn’t that occurred to him? Could Anna have really thought him an ally, supporting her mother’s drinking?
“My girl didn’t know your whole story, then, and in her own struggles, Wilma couldn’t believe anyone could walk away from the bottle for good.”
A fact Caleb couldn’t expect Anna to believe either, or even care about. Not after tonight.
43
Anna opened her eyes, looking up at the first hint of dawn. Diffused light edged a gray sky. Surely last evening had been a nightmare, and Mutter was really asleep in her hammock inside the wagon. Soon, when Isaac blew his horn, she would grouse about the noise.
Seeing the two wagons that supported the ropes for her hammock brought another wave of tears to Anna’s eyes. Neither belonged to Großvater. She’d spent the evening with Caroline at Maren’s wagon. If she looked out about twenty feet into the meadow, she would see where Rutherford and Garrett had kept watch over the Wainwrights’ camp. Watch over her.
Mutter really was dead. And although Großvater’s intentions were no doubt noble, he had indeed left her here.
“Miss Anna.”
Anna turned toward the sound of Gabi’s sweet voice. The little girl climbed down from the wagon, her woolly brown curls bobbing. Gabi took slow steps toward the hammock, carrying her quilted dolly, an inseparable appendage.
“Are you awake?”
Drawing in a deep breath, Anna sat up, letting her legs dangle over the side of the hammock. “I am awake, sweetheart.”
Gabi peered up at her. “PaPa told me about your mutter. She died.”
Anna nodded.
“My mother died too.”
A new wave of tears welled in Anna’s eyes. She remembered Gretchen Brantenberg Wainwright.
“When I was a baby.” Gabi’s blue eyes glistened. “I’m sorry about your mutter, Miss Anna.”
“Thank you.”
“I have a new mother now.”
“Yes. Mother Maren.” Maren had climbed out of the wagon behind Gabi and busied herself at the grub box.
Gabi studied Anna from her disheveled locks to her stockinged feet. “You’re prob’ly too big for a new mother.” Suddenly extending both arms, Gabi held the doll out to her. “But you can use my Baby Mary.”
Anna opened her mouth to speak but couldn’t.
“She helps me when I’m sad. When I miss my Oma in Saint Charles real much, I hold Baby Mary like this.” Gabi hugged the quilted doll to her chest. “Mother Maren says Baby Mary catches my tears and gives them to God.”
Blinking against the tears now brimming her eyes, Anna slid out of the hammock. Kneeling, she pulled the little angel into an embrace.
Großvater had been right to leave her here. This was the perfect place for her this morning. Here, receiving love from sweet Gabi, Anna felt God catching her tears.
Less than two hours later, Anna rode toward a small graveyard on the outskirts of Rock Creek. Boney and several of the others from camp rode with her.
Pulling up on the reins, she slowed Molasses’s gait. None of this was real. It couldn’t be. But when she and the others approached Großvater and Caleb, the truth was impossible to deny. They both sat on stools in the shade of the wagon, only a few yards from a hole in the ground.
Großvater stood, then Caleb. Black Nebraska soil from the grave still clung to the folds of their trousers. It didn’t make sense. Caleb didn’t seem like a man who would let drink get the best of him. He worked hard, and nearly every time she saw him, he was helping someone. The only time he spent alone was when he went off to read his Bible. But if it weren’t true, why would he tell Mutter he liked to indulge in the drink too?
&nbs
p; When Großvater stepped up to Anna’s horse and offered his hand, she lifted herself in the stirrup and swung down into his tearful embrace. The others dismounted in silence and gathered around the grave. The slight whistle of the wind accompanied Anna and Großvater on the slow walk to their place beside the grave.
Why had she insisted they go west? Why couldn’t she have just let Mutter remain in Saint Charles? Why had she insisted they leave Independence?
Anna looked down to see a form wrapped in a sheet at the bottom of the grave. Lifeless and anonymous in this vast wasteland of the prairie. Mutter finally lay in peace, free of her torment.
If only it were peace Anna felt. Instead, sorrow and regret pushed tears from her eyes and chased them down her face.
Boney read from the Twenty-third Psalm and talked about Mutter’s kindness to him when he was a child. He talked of Mutter’s German potato salad and shared a story about her helping him find a hiding place when Dedrick kept beating him at hide-and-seek. Good memories of a good time.
And now that was all Anna had left of Mutter—memories. The good and the bad ones.
When Boney had finished and the others walked back to the road where they’d tethered their horses to the fence, Anna remained at the graveside. She knew it was only Mutter’s lifeless body there in the ground, but she couldn’t leave. She couldn’t stop trying to make life easier for Mutter.
Großvater stood beside her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “It’s time, Anna.”
She shook her head, tears streaming her face.
Großvater turned her toward their wagon. The wagon where she’d found her mother dead.
Her breaths shallow, Anna looked at Caleb. He stood beside the front wheel, holding his hat in his hand.
“Anna, I can’t begin to express how sorry I am,” he said.
She nodded, biting her top lip at a flood of swirled emotions. Sorry for her loss? Sorry he hadn’t seen the damage Mutter’s drinking could do? Sorry he drank? Sorry he kept dark secrets?
Her whole body trembled. How was it possible that she could hate him and love him at the same time?
She hated the sorrow and sincerity she saw in his eyes.
She hated that he hadn’t cared enough to tell her the truth about himself.
She hated that her heart ached for him, that her hand felt cold and she longed to set it in his.
Anna looked at Großvater. “I can’t stay here.”
Großvater took the lead rope from Caleb and shook his hand. “Thank you. If you’ll ride Molasses back to camp for us, we’ll see you there.”
Caleb nodded, and without looking at her, walked back toward the grave, where Boney waited with a shovel.
She hated the fact that she and Caleb couldn’t be together.
After one last glance at the fresh grave, Anna joined Großvater on the road that led to their camp. The road that would take her into a life without her mother.
Großvater cupped Anna’s elbow and pulled her close. “Thank you, Anna.”
She reared back, startling the oxen. “You have nothing to thank me for, Großvater. I failed Mutter. I failed you.”
He shook his head. “If you failed anyone, it is only yourself.”
Anna opened her mouth to speak, but he pressed his finger to her lips.
“And that’s because you expected of yourself what only God could do.”
Anna’s lips quivered. She could almost see Mutter nodding in agreement with him.
“Anna, you did what I couldn’t do.” His shoulders sagged. “You took care of your mutter, when she seemed bent on making the task impossible. It wasn’t fair to expect more of yourself.”
Her chest tightening, Anna wiped the tears from her cheeks. “I expected more of Caleb.”
Großvater’s brow creased. “What did you expect from him?”
“Honesty. Caleb knew about Mutter. He pulled her from the river and found her in the draw that night and brought her back.”
Großvater nodded. “Yes, that is all true, but I don’t see where he was dishonest.”
“Because he drinks and never told me. Telling Mutter only made her think her drinking was all right.”
“He drank,” Großvater said. “Past tense.”
“That’s what he told you?”
“Yes. And I believe him. Anna, he’s spent time with us. Lots of it. Helped us.”
Anna moistened her lips, trying to push the memory of his kiss from her mind.
“Have you ever seen or heard or smelled any evidence of alcohol in him?”
“No.”
“You don’t think Boney would notice? Boney loves you like a sister. He knows your heartache. You don’t think he’d tell you if he had any reason to believe Caleb was given to drinking? You don’t think he would protect you?”
“He would.” A fresh issue of tears stung her eyes.
“Caleb isn’t your enemy. He never was. He tried to help your mutter.”
“Instead, he dug her grave.” She needed to stand behind her decision to dislike him. It was for her own good.
Großvater sighed, his shoulders sagging. “God is with us on this road, Anna girl. And He has been all along.” The words seemed to flow as if Großvater hadn’t just lost his only daughter. “I don’t know. I don’t understand.” He sent a reverent gaze heavenward. “Only God knows.”
But did God know how furious she was? How afraid she was to give her heart to someone she couldn’t trust? How afraid she was that Caleb had already captured her heart?
44
Caleb shifted in the saddle. The memory of watching Anna mourn her mother tore at his heart. Why, God, why?
Boney pulled a slab of jerky from the pack on his mule. He ripped off a hunk and held it out to Caleb. “After all that work you did today, you should have a bite.”
“Thanks.” Caleb took the jerky. “You think Anna will be all right?”
“That depends.”
Caleb looked at Boney with his eyebrows raised, waiting for the rest of the answer.
“On you.”
“How do you figure that?”
“I reckon you’ll either decide to tell Anna the whole truth, or you won’t. And whatever you decide will affect her.” Boney bit the end off of his stick of jerky. “You know you’re that important to her, don’t you?”
“I can’t be.”
“Just ’cause you used to drink?”
Caleb nodded. “How’d you know?”
“ ’Cause of what you didn’t say about Wilma. Idle gossip comes from folks who haven’t done a particular thing but are afraid they might.”
Caleb nudged his hat back and looked at Boney. “How’d you get so smart?”
“My mama said I come by it naturally.”
Caleb chuckled.
“You told Anna you used to drink?”
“No. But I told Wilma that night in the draw. I planned to tell Anna—time and again.” Caleb shook his head. “You see why I can’t tell her now. Her mother just died because of it.” He choked back a sudden catch in his throat. “And other people died because I drank.”
“You know I’m mindful about all that, but sorrow is sorrow. And it seems to me, the way you and Anna feel about each other, you two could be lightening each other’s load.”
Boney was right. He needed to talk to Anna. The sooner the better.
He had just pulled his horse off the road and toward the line of wagons, when Boney grunted. “You seein’ what I’m seein’?”
Caleb looked up. Anna was fairly marching up the line toward them, her skirt pinched up at the sides.
“Which one of us you figure she’s aimin’ to fire at?” Boney asked.
“Probably an easy guess. She had plenty of time to talk to her grandfather.”
“You told him?”
“Uh-huh.”
“You need a little moral support?”
Caleb shook his head and climbed down from his Pacer. “Thanks, anyway.”
“Well, good luck
to you, then.” Grinning, Boney turned his mule toward the chuck wagon.
Her shoulders squared and her lips pursed, Anna looked straight at him. As she approached, he started to ask if she was all right and thought better of it. She obviously was not.
Anna stopped mere inches from him and looked him in the eye, her eyes narrowed. “You didn’t think I had a right to know.”
“I did.”
“You said you were fond of me.”
“I was … I am.” He reached for her arm, but she pulled it away. “I am fond of you, Anna. Very fond.”
She shook her head as if a fly had buzzed her. “Yet, you told my mother about your past and you didn’t tell me?”
He drew in a breath to calm himself. “I wanted to tell you. That day I said I needed to tell you something before you and your mother went into Independence. That day on the knoll. The night of the dance. You wouldn’t listen. I wanted you to hear it all from me.”
“Instead, you let me believe you were like her, that I couldn’t trust you.” Her fists balled, Anna leaned into him and pounded his chest. “You let me believe you would drink yourself to death and die on me too.”
He cupped her wrists, allowing her to continue hitting him. When Anna broke down into sobs, the pounding subsided and she melted into his embrace, her face buried in his chest.
Her breaths shuddering, she pulled away from him and looked up, her eyes full of questions.
“Anna, I can’t express how sorry I am it came to this. I cared about your mother. I tried to help her. Yes, I used to drink. I drank to hide. I drank to be brave. I don’t anymore.”
She shook her head. “I lost count of how many times Mutter said she had stopped.”
Caleb rubbed his bristled cheek. “I need to tell you more.”
“It won’t bring my mother back.”
“Anna, I am truly sorry for your loss, but your mother is not all there was and is to life.”
