The Journey Home

by Linda Ford

“I’ll see you to this neighbor. My ma would have my hide if I didn’t make sure you were safe.” He pushed his hat farther back on his head and nodded as if she’d agreed.

  “I’m quite capable of looking after myself. I don’t need you keeping an eye on me. Go away.” She steamed down the road, dragging her bundles and the rifle.

  “I’m going the same direction. Why don’t you let me put your things on Sam?”

  She stubbornly plowed onward. When he sighed and fell in step with her, she paused. “Seems a shame to be wasting your time. You might find a job if you hurry to town.”

  “I ain’t leaving you until I know you’re safe. Ma would have my—”

  “She’d have your hide. So you said.”

  “Are you always so contrary?”

  “I’m the most compliant of persons.” Except right now. “Normally.”

  “So it’s just me.”

  “Yup. Now why don’t you get on your horse and ride away?” She had never been sharp with anyone in her life, but this man prodded her the wrong way. “Sorry for being rude,” she mumbled.

  “I’m used to it.”

  Although he said this in a mild way, his words stopped her in her tracks and she turned to stare at him. His dark eyes gave nothing away. Nor did his blank expression, but she understood he meant he faced unkind comments because of his race.

  “Huh,” she finally said, unwilling to point out that not everyone felt the same way. She couldn’t say how she felt about the man, but it had nothing to do with his race and everything to do with the way he got under her skin like a long, unyielding sliver. She hurried on, not surprised when he walked beside her.

  “How far to this neighbor?”

  “The Hendersons. Three miles. Big Rock is a few miles farther.” She hoped the suggestion he might like to hurry in that direction would be clear.

  “Yup.”

  The weight of the bag made her shoulder ache. The bedroll kept slipping from her arms and the rifle banged against her shins, but she paid them scant attention. She was used to working hard without complaining.

  Kody caught the bedroll just as it threatened to escape her grasp.

  “That’s mine,” she protested.

  “So it is.” He tied it to the saddle and reached for the rifle.

  “That’s Harry’s and I intend to see he gets it back.”

  “Harry would be your brother?”

  “Of course.”

  “Well, when you give it back, I suggest you do it like this.” He waved the gun as if hitting someone with it, then rubbed his head, moaning.

  Despite the fact she didn’t want Kody to tie her meager belongings to the saddle, despite the fact she didn’t want him accompanying her, she laughed because his action so accurately echoed her sentiments. Though she would never do it. No. She’d hand the gun to him meekly and promise to work hard and not argue with Nellie. She’d done so over and over just to make sure Harry wouldn’t send her away. Like he’d done when she was twelve. How grateful she’d been when he took her back. Only with Harry did she have a safe place.

  Remembering sucked away the last drops of anger, so when Kody reached for the carpetbag, she handed it to him without argument. And submissively followed him down the road.

  A few minutes later, Charlotte pointed to the low house. “The Hendersons’.” They paused at the turnoff. She reached for her things. “Thank you for your company.”

  Kody touched the brim of his hat and gave a slight nod. “My pleasure.”

  She wondered if he mocked her. She shrugged. What did it matter? She marched to the door and knocked. Mr. Henderson opened. Mrs. Henderson stood at his shoulder, holding the new baby. “I’ve come to see if there’s any word from Harry.”

  Two older people stood by, watching curiously. The three other children eyed Charlotte.

  “No, nothing. I would have ridden over if I heard anything. Haven’t been to town for a couple of days. Not since I picked up my folks. They’ve come to help.”

  “Perhaps I could wait here.” She knew as soon as she spoke it wasn’t possible. They must be crowded to the rafters already. “Never mind. I’ll go to town and see if there’s a message waiting.” Please, God, let there be some word. Her silent prayer grew urgent. What would she do if there wasn’t?

  Chapter Three

  Kody waited at the side of the road. He didn’t really want to help her, but if he ever saw Ma again he wanted to be able to face her without any guilty deed to hide. She’d raised him to see and respond to the needs of others. He only wished others had been taught the same and saw past his heritage to his heart. But it no longer mattered. He had a destination—northern Canada. He’d heard a man could get cheap land without the uncertain benefit of neighbors. It sounded like his kind of place.

  He settled back out of sight behind a low drift of soil and watched as Charlotte made her way to the door and knocked.

  A young man and woman opened to her. Kody strained but couldn’t make out any words until the man nodded. “Certainly there might be something by now. I’m sorry I can’t take you.”

  Charlotte murmured a reply, then turned and plodded back to the road. “We can fill the canteen and clean up.”

  He handed it to her. “You go ahead. I’ll wait here.”

  “I thought you were anxious to wash.”

  He studied the house, the door now closed. “Your friends won’t understand your keeping company with me.”

  “I’m not keeping company with anyone.”

  He didn’t make a move toward the nearby water trough.

  “They do understand the need for water.”

  Sam whinnied and nudged Kody. He could ignore his own thirst, but it hardly seemed fair to deprive Sam of a drink. “Lead on,” he murmured, a sense of exposure causing him to put the horse between him and the windows of the house.

  They both washed, then Kody pumped fresh water for them to drink. He filled the canteen and waited as Sam drank his fill.

  Charlotte wiped the back of her hand across her mouth and smoothed her damp hair off her face. “I’m going on to town. Harry must have sent word by now.” She hitched the rifle over her shoulder, tried to tuck the unwieldy bedroll under one arm as she struggled to carry the bulky bag in the other. Then she resolutely headed down the road.

  Knowing he had to do what Ma would consider the right thing, Kody fell in beside her. “How far is it, did you say?”

  “Didn’t.” She paused. “Five miles.”

  He swallowed a groan. He wasn’t used to walking and had already used his feet for three miles while Sam plodded along with an empty saddle. “Seems a shame for Sam to be doing nothing.”

  “No need for you to go out of your way.”

  “I hadn’t planned on going to Big Rock. Hadn’t not planned it, either. I’m only passing through on the way to something better. Picking up work where I can find it on my way north.”

  “What’s up north?”

  “Canada and a new life.” As soon as he earned some more money he’d be ready to start over. “Hear you can find places where you never see another soul for months at a time.”

  “I’m here to tell you it can get might lonely not seeing another person.” She shot him a look so full of disgust he chuckled.

  He understood her response to being alone differed vastly from his own reasons for wanting it, so he didn’t say anything.

  They walked onward a few steps.

  “Seems a shame for Sam to be doing nothing.”

  “No one asked you to accompany me. Get on and ride for Canada.”

  He snorted. “My ma would give me a real dressing-down if she heard I’d done such an ungentlemanly thing.”

  “Your ma isn’t going to know, now is she?”

  “You can never be sure.” His voice rang with a mixture of regret and pride.

  She laughed. The sound made his insides happy. “I’ve heard of mothers having eyes in the back of their heads,” she said. “But this is the first time I
heard someone suspect their mother of having long-distance sight.”

  He smiled, liking how it eased his mind. He’d gotten too used to scowling. “It ain’t so much she’ll see me do something, but if I ever see her again, she’ll see it in my eyes.” He’d never been able to fool Ma. She seemed to see clear through him. Which was one more reason to stay away from Favor, and Ma and Pa and all that lay in that direction.

  Charlotte stopped and considered him. “Do you know how fortunate you are to have such a mother? If I had such a mother I’d never leave her. What are you doing going to Canada to be alone?”

  “I have my reasons. Now save me from my mother’s displeasure and ride Sam to town.”

  She studied him for a long moment. His skin tightened at the way she looked at him. He saw the fear and caution in her eyes, knew she saw him as a redskin, someone to avoid.

  With a hitch of one shoulder to persuade the rifle to stay in place, she turned her steps back down the road.

  He’d met this kind of resistance before and sighed loudly enough for her to pause. “My horse ain’t Indian. Or half-breed.”

  Her shoulders pulled up inside her faded brown dress. He could practically see her vibrate, but didn’t know if from anger or fear or something else. She let her bag droop to her feet and turned to face him. The sky lightened, with the brassy sun poking through the remnants of the dust storm, and he saw her eyes were light brown.

  “Are you accusing me of prejudice?” she demanded, her voice soft, her eyes flashing with challenge as if daring him to think it, let alone say it.

  Could she really be free of such? His heart reared and bucked as long-buried hopes and dreams came to life—acceptance, belonging, so many things. He shoved them away, barricaded them from his thoughts. Best he be remembering who he was, how others saw him. “Nope. Just stating a fact.”

  “I couldn’t care less if your horse is Indian, black, pink or stubborn as a mule. I prefer to walk.” She spun around and marched down the road, sidling sideways to capture the escaping bedroll with her hip.

  He grinned at her attempts to manage her belongings. For a moment he stared after her. She said words of acceptance, but he doubted she meant them as anything more than argumentative.

  He followed, leading Sam. “He ain’t stubborn.”

  “How nice for you.” She continued, unconcerned by the wind tugging at her skirt and dragging her coppery-brown hair back from her forehead, undaunted by her belongings banging against her shins with every step.

  Mule-headed woman. She made him want to prod at her more, see what would surface. He tried to think of a way to challenge her insistence on walking, wanting to somehow force her to state her opinion on his race. No doubt she had the same reservations as—ha, ha, good word choice. Again, his mother would have been amused. The same reservations about Indians most white folk. “My mother would want you to ride,” he murmured.

  Finally she nodded. “For your mother.” He secured her things to the saddle, then she tucked her skirt around her legs and used his cupped hands to assist herself onto Sam’s back. “I’ll ride partway. You can ride the rest.”

  He didn’t argue, but nothing under the brassy sun would allow him to ride while a white woman walked at his side. He could just imagine the comments if anyone saw them.

  “Seems everyone wants a new life,” she said from her perch on Sam’s back. “Except me. I’ve been quite happy with the one God provided.”

  He wondered how being abandoned made her happy or caused her to think God had provided for her. “How long since your brother left?”

  She darted him a look, then shifted her gaze to some distant point down the road. “Near a week.”

  Kody had learned to let insults roll off him without response. In fact, he’d learned to ignore lots of things in life. But a week? Well, he figured she had to be made of pretty strong stuff to still be fighting.

  They walked on for the distance of half a mile until Charlotte broke the silence. “Why are you so anxious to go where you never see another soul?”

  Kody didn’t answer at first. Wasn’t sure how to. This woman had a family. Sure, her brother had left her behind. Maybe with the best of intentions. But she expected him to welcome her into his new home. What would she know about how it felt to be a half-breed? How it affected everyone and everything in his world? How people expected him to be a wild Indian? At times his frustration made him want to act like one. “Sometimes a man likes to be alone.”

  “Don’t you feel the need to have someone to talk to?”

  Always. Try as he might, he never got used to keeping his thoughts inside himself. “Sam here is a good listener.”

  She laughed, a sound like water rippling over rocks. A sound trickling through his senses like someone brushing his insides with a feather. “If you want only listening you could park a rock on your saddle and talk to it. Seems to me a person wants a bit more. Someone to agree or argue. Someone to acknowledge your presence.”

  He refused to let her words poke at his loneliness. He’d made his decision. There was no looking back.

  They fell into quiet contemplation as they continued toward the town. Kody’s thoughts always seemed to have a mind of their own, and after talk about his mother, there was no way to keep himself from remembering her. She loved him. As did his father. He’d never doubted it. They treated him as their own and never once made him feel inferior. For that he loved them deeply, but life had created a solidly strong reason for him to move on. He stopped himself from thinking further along those lines. He’d made his decision and he wouldn’t look back. Canada promised the sanctuary he sought. He hoped it would also provide forgetfulness of what he’d left behind.

  Despite Charlotte’s insistence she’d take her turn walking, Kody did not allow Sam to stop until Big Rock sat square in front of them. He pulled Sam off the road and helped Charlotte dismount. He hung back behind the low bushes at the side of the road. “You go on and see if Harry has sent you a message.”

  She brushed the dust off her dress and smoothed back her hair, which fell to her shoulders and trapped the golden rays of sunshine, then she took the bedroll and bag Kody handed her. He chuckled as she struggled to carry the rifle. “Might as well leave it behind.”

  She ignored his suggestion. “Thank you again and God bless you on your journey to Canada.”

  “You’re welcome.” He hunkered down behind the bushes and waited. He’d make his way into town later to assure himself she was okay, then he’d move on. He plucked a dry blade of grass and rolled it between his fingers. Used to be he could occupy his mind with such useless activity, but not today. His thoughts had been willful and troubling since he’d entered the house where Charlotte huddled alone. Something about her—her words of faith, her belief in family and belonging—reminded him of what he’d left behind. He didn’t thank her for bringing to his mind the very things he wanted to forget.

  He turned to discuss the matter with Sam. “She thinks you’re no better than a rock to talk to.”

  Sam snorted his disbelief.

  “I know. I was offended, too. Shows what a woman knows. Sure, it’s true you don’t say much, but I know you understand.”

  Sam shook his head in agreement.

  “Can’t understand her brother abandoning her, though. She ain’t so big she couldn’t fit in somewhere.”

  Sam shook his head again.

  “I sure hope the man has sent for her.” He pushed to his feet and swung into the saddle. “Let’s go see.”

  He pulled his hat low over his eyes and sat boldly upright, ready to face any challenge. He rode slowly through the wide streets of the suffering town, noted the vacant windows in several buildings. People pulled up and left everything behind as the drought and depression took their toll. A lone truck sat at the side of the street.

  A man in the doorway of the feed store jerked to attention and watched Kody with narrowed eyes. Two old codgers leaned back on chairs in front of the mercantile. As
Kody passed they crashed their chairs to all four legs. One spat on the sidewalk. Kody ignored them. He had no wish to start trouble. He only wanted to check on Charlotte and then he intended to head north as far as his empty stomach allowed before he tried to find some kind of work. It had become the pattern of his days. Sometimes, if the work was good or the pay promising, he stayed for days, even weeks. Other times, he earned a meal and moved on. Always north. Always toward his dream—Canada and forgetfulness. The journey had taken far longer than it should. He needed to make more effort to reach his goal.

  He turned aside and stared at the display in the window of Johnson’s General Store, though he only noted the post office sign. Charlotte would have gone inside to ask for her letter.

  He waited, ignoring the stares from across the street. The two old men posed no threat, only annoyance and a reminder of what others saw when they looked at him.

  Charlotte staggered out, a letter grasped in her hands. Her eyes had a faraway look as she stared past him, not seeing him, not, he guessed, seeing anything. At the shock on her face, he almost bolted off Sam, wanting to catch her before she stumbled and fell. Only the thunderous glance of a passing matron stopped him.

  Charlotte collapsed on the nearby bench beside her belongings and shuddered.

  Kody waited until the woman hurried on before he murmured, “You got your letter?” Seems she should have been a little more relieved to hear from her brother.

  Slowly, as if it took all her mental energy, she pulled her gaze to him. She swallowed hard, her eyes seemed to focus and she shuddered again. “Harry says he’s sorry, but they’re still looking for a place. I’m to wait for further word from him. He suggested I stay with the Hendersons, but they’re full with his parents there.” Her eyes glazed. “I have no place to go.”

  The sound of someone on the sidewalk forced Kody to hold his tongue, though what could he tell her? Certainly she couldn’t go back to the farm and no food or water, but she must have friends she could stay with for a few days.

  A man stopped in front of Charlotte. “Well, if it isn’t my neighbor. Haven’t seen you in a few days, Charlotte. How are you doing?”