Chapter 10

Ten

T he wagon train moved out, and Carson joined Angela at the back of the entourage. He looked forward to resuming their talk of the four years he’d missed. Of course, he’d missed a whole lot more than that. Her first fourteen years as well.

“Can we talk about more than the time after I left home?” He watched for her reaction. Otherwise, he might have missed the way she sucked in air and pressed her lips together.

“I stayed at home with Father. Helped him garden and tend the animals. That’s about all.”

There was more. She hadn’t attended school. And from how she acted when she first came, she couldn’t have had much social contact outside of her father. And her mother before she died.

“How old were you when your mother passed?”

Again, a sharp intake of air and then stillness. She was silent so long he wondered if she meant to answer. Or was she lost in sad memories?

“I know how difficult it is to lose a parent.” His tone was pleading, full of sympathy .

Her eyes dimmed above her wobbly smile. “I know you do. We all miss your pa.”

Only the rattle of the wagons and the distant caw of a crow broke the silence as they padded along the trail.

Finally, she sucked in a breath. “You’re still waiting for an answer?”

“Is there some reason you can’t tell me? Just say so if there is, and I’ll let it drop.” Though not answering would raise even more questions.

“No reason except I find it hard to talk about. It was a difficult time.”

At the tightness of her words, he cringed over having started on this topic. But he couldn’t imagine any reason it should remain a secret. Though it could be that everyone knew the details except him. In that case, why was she so reluctant to tell him?

“I was eleven years old when my mama died.”

The quivering in her voice was his undoing. He caught her hand and squeezed it. “So young. It must have been hard.”

“More than you can imagine.”

Why the harsh tone? Death was hard, but it didn’t explain the way her eyes flashed almost suggesting anger.

“Something happened.” He was as sure of it as he was of the sun shining overhead. He stopped and pulled her to a halt as well. He studied her downturned face. Though losing one’s mother at that age was more than enough to cope with, especially when she had only her father left.

She tried to pry her hand free, but he held it tight. Her head slowly came up. The darkness in her expression sent a spasm through him. “I can’t talk about it.”

“Of course. I understand.” Except he didn’t. He’d grown up in a family where there were few, if any, secrets. Talking had always proven to be a balm. But she’d grown up in different circumstances, so he retained her hand as they resumed walking. It was time to change the subject. “Watching Dobie and Cecil floating their wooden seacrafts reminded me of Pa.”

Her fingers began to relax.

“I’m sure he knew having Bertie around all the time made things difficult, so he would take me fishing and Bertie would stay with Ma. He taught me everything he knew about catching a fish. Many times we forgot about the rods, leaving them propped in the water, and we’d lay on the sandy shore and talk.” See, talk had always been a big part of his life.

“What kinds of things did you discuss?”

“Lots of things.”

“Can’t you remember anything in particular?”

He had to scramble to think of something specific. “What I recall mostly is how pleasant it was to be with Pa and to feel special. He’d tell me about growing up on a farm. About the calf he was given when he was six years old. He raised it, and it became their milk cow. I still remember how his words grew stiff as he said the cow had died after he and Ma married and moved to Manitoba.”

“Ahh.” Her fingers squeezed his. “What else?”

“Well, let’s see. Oh, wait. I know something else. He told me how his ma had taught him to pray at her knees. And how he’d prayed the Sinner’s Prayer there.”

“Really? I love that.”

“Me too. And my ma had me do the same thing.”

She stopped, and so did he, rather than break their contact. “That’s how you became a believer?”

He nodded, his gaze riveted to hers. “How did you become one?”

“It wasn’t so simple for me.” Her lips worked in and out. “I left Mama’s graveside with Father. When we got home, he sat at the table, reading his Bible and praying, and I started to scream. What kind of God lets such bad things happen? Father pulled me to his knees, even though I struggled against him. He held me until I calmed down, and then he talked. He said God wasn’t to blame for cruel events or cruel people any more than Mama could be blamed when one of her flowers died. He said God loved me even more than Mama or he could. He added that, more than anything, Mama wanted me to trust God no matter what.”

“That must have been hard.” Did he mean the scene where she screamed about her loss or the challenge to believe as her mother wanted?

Angela nodded. “At first, I couldn’t trust that God loved me. But I remembered all the lessons Mama had taught me…Bible stories, stories from her life about God’s love and care. Slowly, I began to trust God.” She paused and then added, “But trusting people doesn’t come as easily.”

His low chuckle was acknowledgment of her statement. “I guess, as a Mountie, I’ve learned some people shouldn’t be trusted.”

She studied his face. “Your upbringing has been so different from mine.”

“And yet here we are on the same wagon train, going the same direction.”

They walked on in companionable silence for several yards. She jerked his arm to get his attention.

“I never did properly thank you for saving me from drowning.” Before he could respond, she continued. “I worried you might catch pneumonia or a cold when you rode off so soon afterward. Before you even got warm.”

“I was fine, but thank you for your concern. I’m glad I was able to pull you out of the water. And no ill effects for you?”

“None whatsoever.” She glanced up at him and then away as if she wanted to tell him something but didn’t know if she should.

“What is it? You can tell me.”

She avoided meeting his gaze as the words stumbled from her. “I called your name as I went under. I thought if anyone would see my need, it would be you.”

“Me?” He nearly tripped, both surprised and pleased. “Why me?”

Her eyes widened as she looked directly at him. “Because you’re a Mountie.”

“Because—” He whooped with laughter. “Are Mounties supposed to have the ability to foresee such things and run to the rescue?”

She batted her eyes. “You mean they don’t?”

His laughter grew in volume until it drew Ma’s attention. He sobered enough to talk. “I’ll have to check my handbook and see if I missed a chapter describing that skill.”

“You do that. You might be surprised at what you learn.” Flashing light in her eyes accompanied her grin.

She was surprisingly fun to talk to. Something he hadn’t discovered before he left home.

“You ever go fishing?” The subject didn’t matter. Only talking to her, learning about her did. There remained so many unfilled years to discover and only a few days of this journey to learn everything.

“My father also took me fishing. Sometimes Mama would come along before—” She swallowed audibly.

He squeezed her fingers to let her know he understood how difficult it was to talk about her mother. Strange how normal it felt to hold her hand. Did she feel the same ease about doing so?

She flashed a smile at him. “The creek ran through a pond in the back of our farm. I don’t think anyone else knew of its existence.” Her words caught. “Though it’s strange that they didn’t. Maybe Father had let it be known it was private property. Hmm. I do recall a couple of No Trespassing signs but—” Her steps slowed to a stop. Her fingers curled against his hand. “I just realized something. ”

Whatever unexpected thing she’d remembered, he wouldn’t go on until she told him. Until he’d been able to erase her shocked expression. “What did you realize?”

“I thought everyone had such signs at the edge of their property. But I never saw any when I joined your family. Not a one.” Her gaze riveted to his. Demanding. Or was it searching? Begging?

Tightness rose up his throat at the need he saw. How was he to meet it, especially when he didn’t understand it? “Maybe things were different there?” His tone was tentative.

“They were.” She blinked. Nothing remained in her eyes except distance. She resumed walking, leaving him standing alone, his hands empty and his thoughts confused.

What had just happened?

Oh, how different things had been back there. He had no idea, nor did she mean to tell him. She’d trodden too close to revealing details about herself he couldn’t know. From now on, she’d have to be more careful about what she said to him.

“It’s nice to see how happy Ma and Gabe are, isn’t it?” That was a nice safe subject.

“Totally surprising though. I mean—” He grinned and tipped his head toward the wagon ahead of them with Gabe and Ma walking beside it. “Who would have guessed that?”

“You’d be even more surprised if you’d seen them at the start.”

“Do tell.”

Gladly. “Ma wasn’t pleased when the Millers said they meant to accompany our group. She said they could travel a distance from us. Their presence did not suit her. For one thing, it upset Bertie. It was about all she could do to get him to leave the barn the day we headed out. ”

“I was kind of surprised about that myself. I imagined him hiding in the barn and refusing to come. What made him agree to come?”

“Gabe needed help with his oxen. And Bertie?—”

“Let me guess. Bertie whispered something to the balking beasts, and they did exactly what he asked them?”

They laughed.

“Bertie’s always had a special way with animals.”

Gabe nodded, “He is a kind and gentle man. I’m glad he’ll be going with Ma and Gabe. He’ll be happy and, in many ways, a help.”

“That makes me think of something I realized when I was assisting the Andersons. How important?—”

Joe riding toward them cut him off. He reined in beside them. “The prairie to the west has been burned off. We’ll have to drop south in order to have grazing for the animals.”

Fire! Angela’s hand fisted at the memory of outrunning the fire that almost consumed them. She pushed words past the tightness in her throat. “Was anyone hurt?”

“I don’t know. I had to return to get back to the wagon train to turn it away.”

“I’ll have to check.” Carson grabbed his horse’s reins and paused to speak to Angela. “We keep getting interrupted, but we’ve still got time to do those four years. I promise.” He swung into the saddle and smiled down at her. “And maybe even the years before that.”

She pasted on a smile as he rode away, pausing at Ma’s wagon to get his red serge.

The look on his face as he said he meant to resume their talk and more was too insistent, too demanding. She’d let him know she preferred looking ahead to reviewing the past. Settled on that matter, she hurried to catch up to the wagons where she fell in beside Bertie, listening to him tell about the bushes Alice had found and enjoyed .

“Her eats funny things.”

“She does, doesn’t she?” She laughed at the way Bertie nodded so hard he almost lost his hat.

“Mr. Gabe say I can have more pets when we move to his farm.”

Did Bertie realize there was no “farm” at the moment? Just a dream.

“He say I might have to wait until spring. Ang—” He stopped to face her, his expression a question mark. “How long to spring?”

Bertie had little concept of time. She explained it another way. “First, we get to the fort. Then there’s fall and then winter. After that comes spring.”

Bertie’s wide shoulders hunched forward. “That a very long time.”

“But there will be so many things to do and enjoy.” Those words applied to herself as well. Hadn’t Pa Woods taught her to take each day and find the good in it? He’d said one verse so often, she always remembered it in his voice: “This is the day which the Lord hath made; we will rejoice and be glad in it.”

I will, Pa. I’ll do my best to remember all the good things you taught me. Including leaving the past and turning always to the future.

Sometime later, at Joe’s signal, they made camp. Like the others, Angela shaded her eyes and looked west toward the charred land. A whirlwind whipped up, black with ashes.

“I hope Carson doesn’t find trouble,” Ma said.

“He’ll handle whatever he finds,” Irene soothed.

“I know. But…” Ma didn’t finish. She didn’t need to. The others understood that she would shield him from pain and trouble if she could. Just as Hazel would for Petey and Louise for Dobie, though in the latter case, the poor child had already dealt with witnessing his parents’ deaths. There were things a child couldn’t avoid as Angela well knew .

The travelers set up camp. The routine was now so familiar that Angela doubted any of them had to think of what they were doing. She helped free the oxen from their yokes and led them to water. Ashes floated on its surface…a reminder of the fire to the west. Tenting a hand over her eyes, she stared into the distance, saw nothing more than she’d seen earlier—blackened land, swirling ashes, and the blue sky now tinted pink and orange.

Cecil informed her he was on duty to watch the oxen, and she returned to where Ma and Hazel had set up camp. There was always baking and a dozen other chores to attend to. Making biscuits was one task she took care of, and she set about mixing up the dough.

Conversation buzzed around her, but content to be an observer, she didn’t participate and didn’t really listen until Ruby nudged her.

“Did you hear me?”

“I’m sorry. What did you say?” Angela continued to roll out the dough and cut the biscuits.

“I asked if Carson said anything about the homestead he plans to file on. Robert seemed to think we’d be neighbors with him. Oh, not next door but close enough to visit.” She barely paused to take a breath. “I wonder if he’s got someone picked out to marry. I wouldn’t mind having a neighbor woman nearby. We could exchange recipes. Maybe the four of us could go on picnics together and…”

Angela’s thoughts skittered off in their own direction. Did Carson have plans to marry? He hadn’t mentioned it. But she’d ask next time they talked. That topic would steer him away from wanting to know her past.

The biscuits were baked and resting on the table beside the stew Ma had prepared. Beans baked over the fire in preparation for tomorrow. Ma called, “ Supper.”

Everyone gathered around the fire. Except Carson. Ma looked to the west. “I hope he’ll be back soon.”

Irene squeezed Ma’s shoulders. “He’s been managing fine as a Mountie for three years.”

“I know.” With a sigh of acceptance, she looked at Gabe whose smile was warm and encouraging. “Go ahead and pray. We won’t wait for him.”

Angela bowed her head as Gabe rose to ask the blessing. She added her own thanks for the warm, accepting family she’d become a part of. She wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize her acceptance. As Pa had said when she first joined the Woodses, “This is your God-given opportunity to leave the past behind.”

While they ate, the talk turned to what each would be doing when they reached the fort. Angela nodded and smiled as plans were discussed. She, alone, had no plan, but she wouldn’t let that stop her from being happy for the others. They deserved every good thing that came their way. Pa would be pleased for them.

The meal over, she helped clean up, packed away food for tomorrow, and brought water from the nearby stream for washing. The chores done and the oxen settled for the night, Gabe brought out his guitar. As usual, he and Ma sang, “Home Sweet Home.” The words and music swelled in Angela’s heart, tightened her throat, and pushed tears to her eyes. She blinked them back. They all looked forward to a new home with those they loved.

Tomorrow, she would ask Carson for his help so she, too, could look forward to—well, if not a home shared with someone she loved, at least a place to belong.