Chapter 13

This was not how Cecil thought the day would go. His plan to prove his affection had gone nowhere.

Surely, he could be forgiven for one kiss given in haste. And yet she’d blocked him in every way since. He’d apologized. What else could he do?

“Walk?” Petey held out a hand to Cecil.

At least someone welcomed him. Cecil trotted over to the boy. He smiled at Hazel. She, too, was worried about Louise. A smile was the only reassurance he could offer.

They walked to the edge of the trees when Petey dropped to the ground, crying.

“He’s tired,” Hazel said.

“Then it’s time for him to have a nap.” Cecil scooped up the little guy and carried him back to the wagon. He lifted him inside, and Hazel followed.Now. Now was the time to talk to Louise.

He turned around. She was gone.

The burning sensation that rushed up his veins had nothing to do with the bright sun overhead or the dying flames. Or even the strong coffee he’d consumed at the noon meal.

It was entirely because of his frustration with how she treated him.

There had to be a way to explain that she would accept. Not that he meant to say that he regretted kissing her. Or growing fond of her and wanting more time with her.

Wanting—

He groaned.

“Something wrong?” Hazel called from the wagon.

“No. Sorry to disturb you.” He crushed every blade of grass under his boots as he strode toward the river.

He checked to the right and the left but didn’t see any sign of Louise.

Had she been in her tent? He retraced his steps. The door was pulled shut. “Louise,” he whispered.

No response.

If he called louder, he’d disturb Hazel and the baby, so he waited in silence. After a few minutes, he felt silly and, rubbing his forehead, moved toward the fire.

The silence was broken by the thud of a big animal.

His breath stalled. Where was Louise? But before he could call out, Joe’s voice came.

“Hello.” And he rode into sight.

Air whooshed from Cecil’s lungs. It was only their scout. But his relief ended as abruptly as it came. Where was Louise? Had she fallen again? Or perhaps encountered a coyote intent on revenge?

Joe dismounted. “Is the coffee hot?” He nodded toward the pot near the hot coals.

“If it’s not, it soon will be.” Cecil tested the metal side of the pot. It was hot enough to sting. He grabbed the nearby towel and filled a cup for Joe and another for himself.

They both tipped back their cups.

Joe contemplated the coals.

Cecil’s studied the trees, the trail, and the riverbank, looking for some indication of Louise. His hand spasmed. He’d been clenching the cup so hard his fingers knotted. Relax. Relax. Breathe. His grip relaxed marginally. Real relaxation was impossible until he saw Louise and knew she was safe.

“River’s down enough you can take the wagon over.”

Joe’s words jerked Cecil away from his thoughts. The grip returned to his fingers, and the handle of the cup bit into his flesh. Yes, he was glad they’d rejoin the others and resume their journey, but finding time alone with Louise would be difficult, if not impossible if she wanted it that way.

“That’s good news.” The words caught in his throat, and he coughed to release them.

“Where are the others?” Joe stared at the wagon and scanned the area around them. Then his gaze returned to the wagon. Hazel shifted so her feet became visible.

Joe lowered his cup, took half a step in that direction, then stopped. “Mrs. Meyers is sick?”

“Resting with the baby. She was poor for the first day or two but seems fine now.”

Moccasins scuffed in the dirt as Joe shifted his attention to the camp. “Miss Archibald?”

Cecil had the same question. Where was Louise? Again, his gaze swept the area. “She’s gone for a walk.”

Joe drained his cup and set it aside. “Hope she’s back soon. Let’s get the oxen ready to go.” But he didn’t move. “I don’t want to disturb those resting.”

“But we need to get going.”

“It’s too late in the day to set out.” He meant after they’d joined the others.

Cecil wasn’t near as concerned about waking Hazel, if she even slept, as he was about Louise. Where was she?

The wagon creaked as Hazel eased from the back. “Joe. Good to see you.” Her smile was the warmest Cecil had seen her wear since they had gotten stranded. Of course, she was eager to return to her mother and sisters.

The oxen mooed as Cecil and Joe brought them to the wagon.

Louise stepped from the trees. The sound must have drawn her back to the camp.

Wanting to make sure everything was all right, Cecil tried to catch her eye. She avoided looking at him. The knowledge stabbed him with the fierceness of a hunter’s arrow. Swallowing back the pain, he forced himself to think of nothing but getting the oxen into harness.

Disturbed by the noise, Petey started to cry.

Joe dropped the strap he held and hurried to the front of the wagon. “Hello, Little Warrior.”

Petey blinked and swallowed back his cry. “’Lo.”

The pair grinned at each other.

“Come to Mama.” Hazel’s voice whispered from the back of the wagon.

Petey waved at Joe and then trotted to his mother.

While Cecil and Joe finished with the oxen, Louise and Hazel packed up the tent and the cooking things.

Those on the other side of the river gathered to watch as the wagon rattled down the slope to where Joe indicated they would cross. Cecil led the horses. Joe drove the wagon. Hazel carried Petey, and Louise walked at her side. All nice and orderly.

Except for the stampede of feelings Cecil couldn’t corral. Things he didn’t want to admit to. Some were almost shameful. Regret that Joe had shown up when he did. Wishing that he could spend more time with Louise. Deepest and hardest of all was the hollow ache inside that had no name but came from the way she avoided him.

“Ladies,” Joe called. “Best you ride, or you’ll end up swimming.”

Both of them scrambled aboard, sitting so they could watch as the wagon rolled forward. Cecil rode beside the oxen to urge them onward as the water rose to their noses. Water as cold as winter. It filled his boots. Splashed on his face. He swiped it away so he could see clearly.

“Pull. Pull.” He patted the near ox on the rump. “That’s it. Keep pulling.” He spared a glance over his shoulder to check on the wagon.

The water lapped about the wheels and pushed at the bottom of the wagon bed. The two women peered out from behind Joe. Big blue eyes and wide dark eyes. Petey would be safely held in his mama’s arms. Cecil could picture the ladies holding each other’s hands.

Louise would be murmuring a prayer.

He added his silent prayer to hers. Lord, keep this wagon safe. Keep the occupants safe.

The current was strong. It pushed against him. His horse struggled to fight it. The rushing water had the power to tip the wagon. And worse, push it downstream.

Still praying, he glanced over his shoulder. The wagon tipped from the force of the water.

Joe hollered at the animals. Cecil urged them onward.

Were they halfway? Would they make it? His prayer was reduced to a simple God, help us.

His horse lurched forward, pulling hard. How much farther? Another glance over his shoulder. The wagon was still coming. And then his attention returned to the oxen. They must keep moving. Keep pulling. It was the only way they’d make it across. If they floundered, the current would take the wagon.

“Hiyi!” he hollered.

The water grew less deep. The oxen snorted.

One more challenge—pulling the wagon up the slope to where the others waited.

The big animals leaned into the harness. Their muscles bulged, and then they were on dry ground, next to Pa’s wagon.

A cheer rose from those watching. But a louder one came from Cecil and the ladies in the wagon. Cecil’s was loud enough to make Chief lift his head. Though he was likely as glad to be back on solid ground as the people were.

Cecil dismounted and emptied his boots.

Marnie and the other ladies gathered around Hazel and Louise, hugging them and telling them how much they’d missed them.

Pa and Walt joined Cecil, waiting for him to take care of his boots before they helped him park the wagon.

“Finally, all three wagons back together.” Pa slapped Cecil’s shoulder before he helped unyoke the oxen and take them to join the others. “I’m glad you were with the ladies and Petey. I knew they were all right with you there.”

“Thanks, Pa.” Not often he got such generous praise.

“Supper isn’t quite ready,” Marnie announced to the gathering. “But there’s a pot of tea.”

“And cookies?” Louise asked, her gaze darting to Cecil and just as quickly, darting away. “Never mind. Forget I said that.”

“But there are.” Marnie indicated a tin full of what looked to be molasses cookies.

“Joe, join us,” Pa called as they gathered around the fire. “They’re going to tell us what they did over there.”

The scout hesitated and then nodded. “I’d like to hear.”

Irene handed everyone a cup. Pa carried the tea around, filling each. Marnie followed with the cookies.

It would have been a perfect way to celebrate crossing the river except Louise sat beside Angela on the far side of the camp.

The tea swirled as Cecil tipped his cup back and forth. Louise was Hazel’s friend. But the rest of the Woods family were also friends. Louise could choose to be with any of them. Marnie, the mother. Or Irene, Cecil’s new sister-in-law. Or Ruby or Angela. Or their brother, Bertie. The big, gentle man with the mind of a child. And a menagerie of pets.

Yes, lots of ways for Louise to avoid him.

But Cecil hadn’t learned how to make his grandmother smile without also learning how to convince others to see the bright side of a situation. It might not be easy, but he’d find a way to make Louise believe his kiss had been a good thing. And a future with him would be a great thing.

Was it about her nursing?

He pushed the nagging thought aside. One thing he’d heard often from both his grandparents was to trust God to make a way.

Louise pressed close to Angela,who whispered, “I’m so glad you’re back. I worried…”

“We were perfectly safe once the water stopped rising.” Louise nibbled at the cookie. Ginger-flavored molasses. Soft and chewy. Why weren’t they more enjoyable? When did she start to believe that crisp, mild-flavored cookies were better?

When Cecil told her about learning to make them under his grandmother’s tutelage.

When she’d made them in the Dutch oven and shared them along with tea.

She took a bigger bite of the dark-brown cookie. Molasses cookies suited her just fine. So fine, she wouldn’t look anywhere but at the cookie. And the tea. And the flames that danced across Cecil’s face and filled his eyes.

Her eyes were too wide. They stung from not blinking. No, from the smoke that drifted in her direction.

“Tell us everything.” Gabe’s voice startled her into sucking in a deep breath. Gave her the strength to lower her attention to her cup.

Cecil relayed how they’d spent their days. How the water had risen so quickly. How he’d brought in rabbits to augment their food supply. He laughed as he told how Louise had chased a coyote away from their food.

Louise’s cheeks stung as all eyes turned to her.

“She’s the bravest woman I know.” Hazel’s affirmation sent guilt into her heart. She didn’t deserve Hazel’s praise. “She’ll be a great nurse in the West. She took care of me when I didn’t feel well.”

A nurse didn’t let wayward feelings have control. Louise lifted her head, and smiled at Hazel. “Thank you,” she murmured. “But we worked together.”

“Indeed, we did,” Cecil told about gathering wood. “Louise took quite a fall but insists she’s not hurt.”

Marnie leaned closer. “Is that how you got the bruises on your face?”

“It was nothing.” At least they’d faded a degree. “Cecil got this close to encountering a skunk.” She showed her hands a couple of feet apart. “It was a mama with four babies.”

“Baby skunks?” Bertie’s eyes lit up. “They be a good pet.” Alice, his goat, sat behind him with Limpy, the brown, three-legged dog at his side. The two cats curled in his lap.

Louise held her tongue, but it seemed Bertie had enough pets.

“I don’t think you want skunks for pets.” Marnie’s voice hinted at her amusement.

Louise’s disobedient eyes lifted Cecil’s direction. His attention should have been on Marnie. Or Bertie. Or anyone. But his bottomless gaze crashed with hers, sending a jolt throughout her body. Her hand jerked. If her cup hadn’t been empty, she would have splashed tea over herself.

“Louise? Something wrong?” Angela whispered.

“No. Nothing.” Her words broke into fragments. She cleared her throat to suggest that was the reason.

“It’s good we’re together again. God has kept us all safe.” Gabe’s strong words should have encouraged Louise. Yes, she was grateful but?—

Nothing else. She was grateful they were all safe. Grateful to be back with the others. And soon to be on their way again, heading toward her goal. Fulfilling a promise she had made at her mother’s bedside. Something she had to remind herself frequently of late.

Joe rose in that fluid way of his. “I’m going to check the animals. Make sure they’re all ready to move out in the morning.”

“We’ll come.” As Gabe stood, his sons did too, and the men strode to where the oxen grazed, joined now by the pair that had been stranded across the river.

“We need to finish meal preparations.” The women joined forces to make supper.

The others chattered. Hazel was much more relaxed now she’d been reunited with her family. No one noticed that Louise was quieter than usual. She wouldn’t have known how to answer if they asked about it. There were no words, no explanation for the way she felt. It was like climbing a mountain, seeing a beautiful view, and then falling into a bottomless dark hole.

She wasn’t the only one who decided to retire early. Hazel went to the wagon, leaving Louise alone in the tent. Alone with her regrets and guilt. Sleep came, but only for quick visits. She tossed from side to side, willing herself back to peaceful slumbers.

Just as she was about to doze, voices outside her tent jerked her fully awake.

Gabe sounded upset. Or maybe concerned.

A second voice joined his. More concern.

Louise pulled on her dress, added a sweater against the cool, and crawled out of the tent to see what was wrong.