Chapter 12

Cecil ground to a halt, his fists clenched at his sides. Of course, she was concerned about Hazel. He was, too. She was lacking energy. Had she always been that way, and he hadn’t noticed? Her mother and sisters, and yes, Louise, were always ready to help with Petey. They carried him so she’d get a break. Irene often rocked the baby to sleep.

A brief smile flashed across his face. Irene maybe did less now that she’d married Cecil’s big brother, Walt. Maybe Louise felt she had to make up for that. Or for Marnie marrying Pa.

But that was no reason Louise couldn’t enjoy Cecil’s attention.

Unless she didn’t want it.

At the thought, he bent over his knees and moaned. He sucked in a deep breath that did little to relieve the sensation that he was breathing under water. He retraced his steps to camp, retrieved the ax, and returned to the bush to cut wood. Armload after armload, he carried to the camp. The pile grew to waist height, but Louise didn’t make a single comment. Did she even notice? Or care?

Hazel watched him drop his next load of wood. “I hope we won’t be here long enough to burn all that.”

“I just want to be prepared, but I suppose I can get more if we use all this.” He stowed the ax and leaned against the wagon.

“Supper’s ready.” Louise’s call jarred him from considering what to do next. At least this allowed him to join her at the fire.

When she signaled that he should ask the blessing, his mind refused to work. The only prayer he could think of was, Please, God, let her be friendly again. Though friends wasn’t exactly what he desired. He stood, his hat in hand, and bowed his head. “Father in heaven, we have food and warmth. We’re safe and dry. We thank You for those blessings. Amen.” Drawing in a strengthening breath, he sat down.

Louise handed him a plate of food. Handed the same to Hazel. Filled a third for herself, but rather than sit on one of the log stools, she remained standing. “I feel the need for solitude.” She made her way to the river and sat overlooking the water.

Cecil’s legs stiffened. He would have followed her, but she’d aimed her words about wanting to be alone at him.

Hazel studied her friend, then him. “Did you two quarrel?”

His only answer was a shrug. It wasn’t exactly a quarrel, but he had no desire to try and explain it to Hazel.

Petey smacked his lips over the food. “More,” he said when Hazel wasn’t fast enough at offering it.

Neither of the adults seemed inclined to carry on a conversation.

Their plates were clean. Still, Louise remained at the river.

Hazel rose and gathered up the dishes. She washed them, put things away, then prepared Petey for bed.

Louise still did not return. Instead, she wandered along the bank.

Was she studying the water level? Hoping they could soon cross? Or was she simply avoiding Cecil? It seemed it was the latter when she didn’t return, even when Hazel retired with the baby.

Dusk lay across the land, soft and gray.

Cecil knotted his fists.

Louise wouldn’t be reading aloud tonight. It was already too dark. But that wasn’t the source of his greatest disappointment. If he could redo the day, he would not have kissed her. But how was he to know she’d have such a strong reaction?

From the time he’d started work at the blacksmith shop and the young ladies hung around watching him, he’d assumed they would have welcomed his interest. Maybe even his kisses.

Maybe he’d been wrong all this time. Maybe there was something unlikable about him.

He slumped over his knees, staring into the dying fire. Then something Gramma once said jolted through him. As a man thinketh in his heart, so he is. It was a Bible verse. He’d always taken it to mean that a kind person revealed it by kind acts. But did it also mean a man who thought he was decent would act that way and be seen that way?

He considered himself a good, decent, kind man. Now, he must live that belief even after Louise’s unexpected rejection. Her opinion of him must not be allowed to change him. He had no wish to become dour.

Nor would he stop trying to win her favor. Her words did not change his feelings or his hope. They had a little time before they joined the others, and even if he failed to win her favor before that, they had the rest of the journey.

Gravel crunched as soft footfalls signaled her walking along the river. The sound grew closer. Grass shushed under her feet.

Still lounging by the coals, he murmured, “Glad to see you back before it gets so dark you can’t see.”

“I would come toward the fire.”

Did her voice contain warning? About what? Was she concerned he’d kiss her again? It was on the tip of his tongue to assure her that he wouldn’t. But if she wasn’t thinking that, mentioning it would embarrass them both.

“Good night.” Her words were as firm as the blow of his ax to the fallen trees.

He waited until the rustle of canvas stopped, and then he curled up in his bedroll.

Tomorrow, somehow, some way, he’d find a way to talk to her. Explain. But explain what? He shifted to a more comfortable position. How was he to convince her he wanted to court her? There. He’d said it. He knew what he wanted. Now, all he needed was a way to do it.

He flipped to his back, knocking his boots over. As he moved them aside, a thought came to him. His grandparents had seldom disagreed, but he remembered one instance. He and Walt were still young and maybe a little uncertain about their lives as Pa left for a job. There was no memory of what the disagreement had been over, nor did he recall any argument. But the air was chilly when both grandparents were in the house. Cecil had sidled up to Walt and reached for his hand, hanging on to it tightly. Walt’s grip had been firm and reassuring, and the two of them had withdrawn to the farthest corner of the room. Cecil wished they could be invisible.

Grandpa stood inside the door, tossed his hat to the nearest hook, and rubbed his gnarled hand over his head. “Mamie, I regret my harsh words. I ask your forgiveness.”

Gramma hadn’t moved. Cecil didn’t know if she didn’t believe Grandpa or if she wasn’t willing to forgive, so he held his breath.

Grandpa had continued. “I can’t undo what is done, but I can promise I will guard my words and actions more carefully in the future.” He’d stepped closer. “I will show you my love in every way I can.” And he’d opened his arms to hug Gramma.

She’d sniffled a bit but went into his embrace. The two of them held each other for a long time. Long enough for Cecil’s fears to seep away.

Cecil didn’t recall what else was said or done, but those words stood out. I will show my love in every way I can. That’s what he’d do for Louise until she was well and thoroughly convinced.

Louise stayedin her tent when she heard Hazel leave the wagon with Petey. She listened to the baby babbling, wood being chopped, flames crackling, pots clanging. She inhaled the aroma of coffee and frying meat. The murmur of Hazel and Cecil talking reached her. This was what she wanted. Could she plead illness and stay in bed all day? Her book was at hand, and she could read.

But the call of nature made it impossible. Finally, she left her retreat and stepped in the dawn. She yawned and stretched.

“I wondered when you’d get up.” A note of concern filled Hazel’s voice.

Louise hadn’t meant to worry her friend. “I guess I was tired.”

Cecil held out the coffeepot. “Coffee’s ready.”

“I’ll be right back.” She scurried to the bushes, finished her business, and then detoured to the river to wash and assess the water level. It had gone down significantly. Perhaps today, they would rejoin the others. And life would be easier. She could spend time with the other ladies, and Cecil would be busy with guard duty and helping with the animals. A sigh rose from the depths of her being.

Easier. And harder. Before she fell asleep and whenever her thoughts surfaced in the night, she admitted that she’d grown fond of Cecil. But those feelings must be denied.

Dirt clung to her skirt from kneeling at the water, and she brushed it off, pulled her determination around her like a thick cloak, and returned to the camp.

Hazel and Cecil stood next to each other. She said something, and he smiled.

Louise’s steps slowed. She must be careful not to intrude on their time together.

The two of them watched her approach, and then they looked at each other. A wordless message passed between them.

Louise soothed the pain that twisted through her insides. This was how it should be.

She took the coffee Cecil offered and withdrew to the far side of the fire. Hazel had prepared breakfast. Cecil remained at her side as he prayed. The final words before his amen convinced Louise to stick to her plan.

“And may we be true to our convictions, honoring You with our choices.”

Hazel handed her a plate of food, and Louise again retreated to the far side. Although she was hungry, she picked at the food. Knowing what she should do and actually doing it were vastly different. Maybe instead, she could?—

No. She would do the right thing even if it was hard.

She set aside her plate without finishing the food. “I feel the need to rest. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll return to my tent.” Without giving anyone a chance to respond, she crawled back into the protection of the canvas.

“Louise?” Hazel peeked through the tent door. “Are you sick?”

“Just tired. You can manage without me today.”

“Of course, but I’m concerned about you.”

Hazel’s worry was the only thing Louise regretted about her choice. “I’ll be fine once I’ve rested a bit.”

Her friend slowly withdrew. The padding of her feet faded as she returned to the fire. Cecil questioned her. His words carried through the early morning air.

“Do you think she was hurt when she fell?”

“I don’t know.” Hazel’s voice was thin.

“Would she tell us if she was? Maybe I should check on her.” Heavier footsteps headed toward Louise.

“I can hear you both, and I’m not hurt.” She spoke loudly enough to stop Cecil in his tracks.

The dull sound of his boots striking the ground ended, and then withdrew.

After that, they spoke too quietly for her to hear. Dishes rattled. Wood cracked as Cecil chopped it. Petey chattered away. And then quiet descended.

Louise laid her book aside and strained to hear any sound. Water rumbled in the river. But nothing else.

Easing forward, she lifted the flap and peeked out. The fire had died to red coals. A pot hung over the heat. No doubt, Hazel had set something to cook for the noon meal. The wind ruffled the leaves on the nearby trees. Where had the others disappeared to?

She edged forward, poking her head out the opening to have a look. No sign of them. She wriggled a little farther out and saw them. A good distance away by the river. They sat side by side, close enough that their shoulders touched. Petey played at their knees. Cecil smiled down at Hazel. She ducked her head shyly.

Louise withdrew. This was how it should be. All she’d needed to do was give them time alone.

Inside the tent, the air grew muggy. She slipped outside and sat with her back to the wagon wheel, her book in her lap. The tent might hide her from view when they returned. But she didn’t read. A knot tightened her insides until the words didn’t make sense.

Nothing made sense.

She was a spinster and resigned to the fact. Her plans had not changed. She was going West to be a nurse to those who lacked medical care of any sort. Being single provided her opportunities she wouldn’t have as a married woman.

Her dream had once been warm and sufficient. But she’d allowed other things to intrude.

The wood pressed to the back of her head as she looked skyward.

“God, I promised Ma to be a nurse. Help me keep my promise.”

She would not let anything—or anyone—sidetrack her.

A little later, the others returned.

Hazel hurried to Louise. “You’re feeling better, I hope.”

“Much better, thanks.” She had her goals firmly in place.

Cecil, with Petey in his arms, stood by the fire, watching them.

Louise would not let herself think that he was concerned. Or—she gulped—hurt. Did he suspect she was purposely avoiding him?

“Good.” Hazel reached out to pull Louise to her feet. “The water has really gone down. Soon, we’ll be able to join the others.” She drew Louise toward the fire. “I made stew for dinner. It’s ready.”

“I should have helped.” What sort of friend pretended to be sick and left the work to others?

The same sort who would kiss the man her friend should have.

“Nonsense.” Hazel waved away Louise’s concern and served each of them stew.

Louise did her best to ignore Cecil and his demanding look. She’d made herself clear. Hazel was her friend, and she’d not do anything to interfere with what was best for her.

As soon as she’d finished her meal, she gathered up the dishes and began to wash.

Hazel grabbed a drying towel, but Louise waved her away.

“Petey doesn’t look sleepy yet. Why don’t you and Cecil take him for a walk so he’ll be ready for a nap.” It seemed she was always suggesting they take walks, but what else could she do to get them off on their own?

“Louise?” Hazel studied her. Then, shook her head and took Petey by the hand.

Cecil didn’t move. His unblinking gaze burned like hot coals. He crossed his arms and waited.

But there was nothing she could add. Or do. Except stand with her hands in the hot water and her gaze at the wagon beyond his left ear.