Chapter 12

Twelve

The fire was dying when Hollis came to his bedroll. It was late, there was no noise in camp. No one else awake, save the three men on watch, outside the circle of wagons.

He'd planned it this way. It was easier tiptoeing through the darkness. Better than facing a smiling Abigail over his supper plate, his stomach churning and his heart twisting inside him.

He toed off his boots, aware that she slept a scant arm's reach away, and piled his slicker and hat atop them. A biting wind had blown since late afternoon and brought back a chill he'd thought they had already seen the last of. Most folks in the company bundled up in shawls or blankets as darkness closed in.

Which is why Hollis expected to slip his feet into a cold bedroll. Yet the cloth around his feet was... warm. He ratcheted up on his elbow, but of course it was too dark to see. He toed around and located the large, flat rock still emanating a pleasing heat.

Abigail must've done this. He knew it instantly. She would've placed the large rock in the fire, let it sit there for hours, then tucked it inside his bedroll to warm it.

He lay flat on his back, his head pillowed on one arm. There was too much quiet coming from her bedroll, only those inches away. No even breaths like he'd hear if she was sleeping. She was awake, even though it was late.

Staring up at the countless stars, he felt a heavy weight pressing in on his chest. It'd been a long while since someone had taken care of him. Since someone had thought of his needs, of his comfort.

What did she want from him? He'd told her from the beginning that this marriage couldn't be real.

Her expectations felt crushing on top of the weight he carried about his captains, the company today. He couldn't breathe. He turned onto his shoulder, the movement pushing air out of his lungs in one big oopmh .

And now his field of vision locked on Abigail, a shadow in the darkness.

So close. Right there.

"Are you all right?" she whispered, the words barely audible. "I saw Leo and Owen arguing when I was cleaning up from supper; I think you and August were scouting ahead..."

No, he wasn't all right. There'd been tension among the captains in the meeting he'd held during the noonday stop. Cutting glances between the men, silent stares, and crossed arms. An echo of that first fateful overland crossing. He'd been worrying on the problem all day, unsure of how to solve it.

No, he wasn't all right.

Was Owen right? That was the thread that tangled in Hollis's thoughts. Thoughts of Dinah, Abigail, and his past. Thoughts that stirred him in a way that had never happened to him before. Even before the river had washed him away, if he admitted it to himself.

Was he distracted? Was he putting this company in danger? A liability because of the head injury he'd sustained weeks ago?

"Owen is bucking my leadership." He hadn't meant to blurt out the words, not even in a whisper. But everything that had been eating at him was suddenly unbearable. And she'd asked.

He kicked at the bedroll now stifling his feet, but it didn't help. Because the pressure was coming from inside of him.

A quiet breath. "Owen respects you."

He doubted that, not after how the other man had come after him that morning.

She must've sensed his silent disagreement, even in the dark.

"He found out about the short-term memory problems." August had revealed his secret. Hollis still couldn't come to grips with that.

She made a little sound of understanding, one that grated against his nerves.

"He's hurt you didn't confide in him," she whispered.

"Not hurt. Angry."

"You sure about that?"

He pictured Owen's craggy face from earlier. He was certain.

"You've trusted Owen as one of your captains for the entire journey thus far."

Yes, but he doesn't trust me .

The words caught painfully behind Hollis's chest. The stars that had been bright and warm now sparkled with cold fire. "If Owen doesn't do as I say, it could cause trouble for the company."

He heard a soft sigh. She hesitated before whispering, "You hold to your control so tightly..."

"That's my job," he snapped, voice louder than he intended. A nearby snore was interrupted momentarily before kicking back up. "That's what every one of these families has paid me to do," he whispered fiercely. "To keep them safe and help them reach Oregon."

Owen was too sure of himself. He knew the outdoors and had crossed successfully with his brother, but two men traveling alone could cover different ground, take different risks. A big company was another animal entirely.

"You trusted me and August with your secret," she whispered. "Why not?—?"

"Maybe that was a mistake."

Silence settled between them as cold as the air biting the exposed skin of his face. He felt her hurt. Hated that he'd caused it.

But another part of him wondered whether it was for the best. There was no future for him with Abigail. Wasn't it better for her to realize now that there was no fixing his problems? Her compassion was wasted on him.

His voice was rough when he spoke again, "What about you?" he demanded in a whisper. "You don't share what plagues you."

He heard a soft, tearful snort. "Everything plagues me," she returned. "Every day brings different dangers. A new way to lose a friend. Another threat that we may not make it to the Willamette Valley."

"And yet you walk around singing and humming until you drive everyone to distraction."

No, not everyone.

Him.

It was him she drove to distraction.

He'd catch sight of her smile from across camp and feel that tug in his gut. Hear a tinkle of her humming, even if he couldn't see her, and find a smile playing about his lips.

"If there truly is uncertainty around every bend, why shouldn't I greet it with optimism?"

"You can pretend to be happy, but if it isn't real, aren't you lying? To yourself and everyone around you?" The words were out of his mouth before he'd thought them through, before he'd considered their sharpness and how they might strike.

She went silent, barely even breathing. For a moment, he wanted to apologize, to say he hadn't meant them. But before he'd figured out how to get the words out, she rolled away from him in the darkness.

The fire popped. It wasn't loud enough to cover the sound of her soft sniffle. Her shuddering breath.

He'd made her cry.

Knowing he wouldn't sleep, not now, he slipped from his bedroll and left her and the dying fire behind. He didn't know where to go—he needed to stay close in case anyone came looking for him in the night—but he couldn't bear the physical closeness to her, not when things would never work between them.

He'd only taken a step or two outside the circle of wagons when a shadow appeared out of the darkness.

"August."

His friend slipped from his horse and approached. Hollis had forgotten he'd been on watch.

"What's the matter?" August asked.

"Nothing. Everything." Hollis ran his hand through his hair, only now realizing he'd left his hat behind by the fire.

"Abigail?"

"She makes me..."

"Out of sorts?" There was a definite note of amusement in August's voice, one that Hollis couldn't match.

August seemed to read the tension vibrating through him. The man was mindful and observant. It made him a great tracker, but Hollis could've done without it in this moment. He braced for what his friend would say.

"It took Felicity being grabbed by that bandit for me to realize I was the only one standing in the way of my own happiness." August's words were quiet and contemplative. He glanced at Hollis in the darkness. "I've seen you weather a lot of hardship leading this company, but I've never seen you as settled as when we found you and Abigail by the river."

"That wasn't real," Hollis insisted.

August let the words hang in the silent darkness between them. His horse snuffled softly in the grass.

Wasn't it ? Hollis could hear the words August would've said.

Or maybe that was his own conscience.

That was part of what was driving him to distraction since they'd returned to the company. The memories of his time with Sparrow were so clear. They'd weathered hours fraught with hardship and tension, yet he had felt settled. Almost happy, if that was possible in the dangerous wilds.

"It wasn't real," he repeated.

"Why can't it be?" August asked gently. "You've got a chance to make it real in these weeks before we reach the end of our journey."

"I can't." That truth settled inside him with a deep finality.

"How come?"

"It isn't my destiny to have that."

"What? A wife? A family? Happiness?"

"Any of it. I figured that out after I lost Dinah. I'm cursed." There was almost a relief to finally saying the words. Acknowledging what he'd been so slow to realize. Dinah had been the last loss in a life full of losses. He couldn't take any more. He'd had his fill of grief.

At least August didn't poke fun. He wasn't that kind of man. "I'm not sure the Bible teaches that a man can be cursed like that. Even Job lost everything... but got it all back."

Hollis shook his head.

"You sure you're meant to suffer like that?" August asked.

If there'd been a hint of skepticism in his friend's tone, Hollis wouldn't have answered. "It's easier to go through life without ," without happiness, without love, "than to lose it over and over again."

August placed his hand on Hollis's shoulder. "God never promised to keep his people from trouble," he said. "But he did promise He'd never abandon you."

August's words didn't touch him. Hollis felt only hollow.

You can pretend to be happy.

Hollis's words from last night wouldn't stop ringing in Abigail's ears.

Morning had dawned, but her husband hadn't come to the fire searching for his breakfast. Or anything else. She must have driven him away with her impertinent questions.

What a fool she'd been to think that his openness when he'd spoken of his wife meant that he welcomed her questions and opinions. He'd told her straight from the beginning that this wasn't any kind of real relationship, hadn't he?

She put down the spoon she'd been using to flip a slice of ham browning in the frying pan, only to realize she'd misjudged and the spoon fell to the ground with a thud.

Frowning, she picked it up and set it aside. Another dish to wash.

She hadn't slept well after Hollis left the campfire last night. She'd lain awake for what felt like forever, waiting for him to return. He never had. At some point, she'd drifted off only to dream of murky water pulling her under the surface. Hollis's words ringing in her ears. And then a glimpse of a tall, stately woman—faceless—standing with Hollis before a preacher.

It was that image that had woken her with a gasp. Hollis and his wife, the way Abigail had imagined her.

"Mrs. Fordham said she'd appreciate some more of your broth."

Abigail lifted her head, only then noticing that Felicity had approached.

The camp was bustling around them, everyone preparing for the bugle's call and the orders to roll out.

Mrs. Allen waved to Abigail from her wagon nearby, a reminder that her social standing had improved after the announcement of their marriage. Folks had come to her yesterday to offer their congratulations and to ask how she was faring.

Abigail blinked and pulled herself back into the conversation. Felicity watched her expectantly.

"Of course." She moved to the wagon where she'd left the clean bowls that morning to dry. The broth was on the coals to keep warm. She'd reheated the leftovers of what she'd made last night.

"I don't suppose August would shoot me another grouse? Or turkey? Or quail?" She'd seen Mrs. Ward by the riverbank this morning when she'd gone for water. The woman had been performing the same chore, but looked pale. Abigail could only hope that whatever illness was plaguing their camp wouldn't spread.

Best to be prepared. Mam had taught her that.

"I'll ask." Felicity took the bowl with its fragrant, steaming liquid. "Are you all right?"

"Of course." Abigail smiled at her friend, the words coming naturally. Until Hollis's voice echoed in her mind again. You can pretend to be happy.

Felicity's expression turned thoughtful as she glanced toward Ben, who was playing with young Sara, Leo and Evangeline's little girl. Felicity had enough to worry about. Abigail's troubles were her own. Talking about them wouldn't solve anything.

Felicity sidled closer. "I've counted you as a dear friend from the moment we set out on this journey."

Abigail's brows pinched.

"I know that your marriage to Hollis isn't real," Felicity whispered.

A prick of awareness skittered up Abigail's spine. She couldn't help a quick glance around. No one seemed to be paying them any attention.

"Of course it's real." A moment of their vows clicked into the front of her mind.

"I don't see how it could be," Felicity whispered. "One moment you aren't married and then you are?" Her expression grew serious. "Hollis is a hard man."

Abigail frowned. " Only because life has treated him so poorly."

He'd lost his cousin, his wife and baby. If anyone had a reason to keep people at a distance, it was him.

"He has bossed you since the first day of our journey," Felicity reminded her. "Along with everyone else."

"My brother tasked him with watching out for me," Abigail reminded her.

"Yes, but he's?—"

"He's a protector," she said with a fierceness she hadn't meant to bleed into her voice. She couldn't bear for her friend to say anything more disparaging about Hollis. "He cares about each soul in this company and keeping each of us safe until the end. He's a warrior who will fight if needed. He's intelligent and articulate?—"

"All right," Felicity said, holding one hand in front of her.

Abigail was breathing hard, like she'd run circles around her wagon. She hadn't meant to get so riled up.

"I can see that your feelings toward him have grown since we started this journey."

Felicity's statement hit with a gravity Abigail hadn't expected. She leaned one hip against the tailgate, her hand landing on its surface to steady her. Until this moment she hadn't realized how deeply her feelings about Hollis ran. What had begun as a grudging friendship had grown into something more—for her.

Yet with the same weight, she realized the futility of caring for him.

"Then you've made a good match," Felicity said. "Even though you forgot to invite your closest friend to the ceremony."

Ah. There was the hurt that had kept Felicity at a distance yesterday and brought on her chilly words moments ago.

"I'm sorry," Abigail said. "It happened so quickly?—"

"And I've been distracted with August and Ben. Then you were swept away, and we were frantic to find you." Felicity seemed as eager to believe the timing as Hollis and Owen had hoped everyone in the company would be.

Abigail hated keeping the truth from her friend; her stomach knotted and she opened her mouth to say the whole truth. That Hollis wasn't a good match for her because he didn't want a wife. That the marriage would be dissolved in Oregon. That Abigail's heart would be broken.

But she snapped her mouth closed and swallowed it all.

"I'm thankful for your friendship," she said before sharing a quick hug with her friend.

Felicity held up the bowl. "I'd better deliver this broth before it chills."

She disappeared, but it wasn't long before a young man ran up calling for Hollis.

"He's not here," Abigail said. "I believe he's with his captains."

It was her best guess, given that her husband hadn't graced her with his presence this morning.

"Our neighbor is awful sick this morning," he said. "I'm gonna help them get their oxen in the traces, but the husband looks like he's gonna fall over iffen he has to walk far this morning. Can you tell him?"

"Of course."

She pushed down everything that had been worrying her about her relationship with Hollis to deal with at a later time. It didn't matter whether Hollis wanted to see her. This news was something he needed to hear. It might even affect the entire company.

She left her packing to search for him but found him nowhere among the wagons. She strained her eyes to see the cowboys guarding Leo and Evangeline's herd of cattle.

Not there either.

It was a relief to see Owen riding through the chaos of families packing up. After last night, she knew that there was tension between the two men. But she also believed what she'd said about Owen. He'd earned Hollis's trust over the past weeks on the trail.

He was clearly impatient to be away when she waved him down.

"Can you get a message to Hollis?" she asked. "The Kimball family is very ill this morning. They may need help driving the wagon."

"I'll make sure they get the help they need."

She felt a moment of misgiving. "And tell Hollis," she repeated.

He nodded, wheeling his horse. Or had that been a shake of his head? He was already gone, so she couldn't press him more. Owen was busy. It was a lot of work to get the company moving from the circle. But he'd get word to Hollis.