Chapter 11

Eleven

C arson rode onward, the ground beneath King’s hooves crackly, the air rank with the acrid smell of ashes. As far as he could see, the grass was scorched to the ground. It would grow back fresh and green, but in the meantime, it was barren. Not a blade of grass to feed an animal. It reminded him of the stories of the first Mounties trekking westward. There hadn’t been grass enough for the animals. Many of the horses had been near starvation when they detoured to the south in search of better traveling. That journey had been extremely challenging. But much had been learned, and things were now better.

Ma had told him of the fire that almost overtook the little wagon train. It was a miracle that escape was possible. As Ma said, “God’s gracious hand of mercy.”

Even though his thoughts wandered, he was attentive to his surroundings. In several places, bare bones of an animal lay exposed. Their condition bore the truth that the deaths had not been recent. He continually scanned the horizon seeing nothing but blackened earth. The railway tracks lay to the north, and he angled in that direction. He made out the shape of buildings, and black ashes indicated the fire had burned that way. He squinted. Impossible to tell from this distance if any buildings had been consumed.

Soon he was close enough to see a wide furrow plowed around the town, providing a fireguard. It appeared the town had been spared any damage.

He crossed the muddy fireguard and made his way to the street paralleling the rail tracks where he’d find the majority of businesses. He reined in. The sign at the train station named the place Willowdale. The stand of willows across the tracks explained the name.

A wagon stood in the street, and a man and woman carried water from the town pump and sloshed it over the wagon box. The water ran off in black tendrils. The pair worked in unity, smiling and laughing as they passed each other.

Another example of the value of a partnership between a man and a woman. No doubt there was love too. But was love the binding factor, or was it their commitment to their task?

What would Pa say?

Pa loved Ma. That was obvious. But so, too, was their commitment to taking care of Bertie and the rest of the family. Seemed a good chance their feelings weren’t always what carried them through but their commitment to the common good. In other words, their partnership.

Pushing aside the thought for now, he sauntered down the street and drew abreast of the couple. They stopped at his approach. He introduced himself. “Constable Woods. You folk were fortunate enough to escape that fire.”

The man held out his hand to shake Carson’s. “Pleased to meet you. We’re the Browns. Yes, we successfully fought the fire. Working together, we saved the town and our place. It’s the one nearest to where the ground is burned off.” He pointed. “I couldn’t have done it without the missus’s help.” He beamed with such pride and affection. “She’s proven to be the perfect helpmeet. Just as God ordained.”

That answered Carson’s question. Partners and helpmates made for a successful union. He asked questions about the fire. Learned it had passed through two days ago. Had stopped at the river to the west. As far as anyone knew, no one had been injured.

Satisfied with the information and even more satisfied with his conclusion about the benefit of marriage, he headed back to the wagons. It was dark when he approached the camp. His lungs were full of ash-filled dust that had risen as he rode. He coughed. Poor King would have breathed in even more of the stinging air.

Not wishing to disturb those already asleep, he skirted to the side and proceeded to where the animals were resting.

“It’s me,” he called softly to warn whoever was on guard duty.

Joe emerged from the shadows. “What did you discover?”

As Carson took care of his horse, he relayed the information. “We can’t go that way,” he said by way of agreement with Joe’s earlier decision.

“Nope.” Joe moseyed on.

The aroma of the meal the others had shared lingered in the air. Carson’s stomach growled. But he’d survive until morning, and he sucked back the last of the water in his canteen.

He was awake, sitting against a tree, before dawn was more than a promise and before anyone around the camp stirred. Gabe was the first up. He built a fire and filled the coffeepot. Ma joined him, added ground coffee to the water, and hung the pot over the fire.

The rattle of pots and pans brought the others from their beds, yawning and stretching.

Walt sank to the ground beside Carson.

“I heard you take over in the night,” Carson murmured as much to inform the man that he was a light sleeper as anything.

“You’ll be anxious for breakfast. Or did you find something to eat on your travels?”

“I did not. How long do you suppose that coffee will be?”

Walt chuckled. “Should smell it any minute. Why not head that way?”

“Believe I will.” His bedding was already rolled up. His boots were already on, and Carson pushed to his feet. By the time he reached the fire, the coffee aroma blended with that of frying meat and his stomach kissed his backbone.

Ma looked up from tending the meat. “Glad to see you back safely.”

Angela poured coffee into a cup and handed it to him. She didn’t say anything, but he allowed himself to believe the spark in her eyes was welcome.

As the others gathered, he repeated his news about his findings. But he stopped before he blurted out his revelation about marriage being a partnership. He’d save that for Angela’s ears.

He’d forgotten it was Sunday. But Gabe and Ma hadn’t. As soon as the meal was cleared away and the wagons readied for the day, Gabe called them back to the campfire that had already been allowed to die down. Before they left, they would soak it again. No one wanted to see a fire get away.

Carson chose a spot beside Angela as Gabe played his guitar. They sang three familiar hymns. The words and music made sweeter by singing them with his family…something he’d missed.

Gabe opened his Bible. “Today, I want to read something to remind us all of God’s care and protection. This is from Isaiah chapter forty-three, verse two, ‘When thou passest through the waters, I will be with thee; and through the rivers, they shall not overflow thee: when thou walkest through the fire, thou shalt not be burned; neither shall the flame kindle upon thee.’” He closed the Bible. “On this journey, we have seen God’s protection through fire and water, but let’s not forget that He is with us every day, every step. Without Him, we would wander through life lost and aimless.” After a few more words, Gabe closed in prayer, and they set out.

Carson tied King to Ma and Gabe’s wagon and looked around for Angela. Where was she? He strode forward. She perched on the wagon seat. Where was Ruby? There she was, walking beside Hazel. Fine, they could talk as readily riding a wooden bench as they could walking.

“May I join you?” he asked.

“Of course.” The wagon jolted over a rough spot, setting the pots hanging on the side into a discordant rattle and making it impossible for him to interpret her tone. Was she eager to have him ride beside her or simply accepting?

Not that it mattered. He swung up and dropped to the seat. “Howdy.” Only after the word was out did he realize how silly it sounded. After all, it wasn’t as if they hadn’t seen each other all morning.

She grinned. “Hello to you too. I was happy you didn’t find anyone injured or worse in the fire.” Her mouth flattened, and darkness dimmed her eyes. “Fire can be a fearful thing.”

“That’s true. Gabe’s words this morning were a good reminder.”

“God is good.” She nodded. “Because of this journey, I’m finding it easier and easier to trust Him.”

Recalling what she’d said earlier, he asked, “Are you also finding it easier to trust people?” He wasn’t sure what he wanted her to say, but would she say yes and include him in that statement?

At first, she stared straight ahead, and he wondered if she’d heard. But her fingers curled into fists, and a muscle in her cheek twitched. Something about that question upset her. Would she tell him why if he asked?

Her shoulders rose and fell, and her words came out slow and measured. “I trust those who have proven to be trustworthy.”

“That makes sense. But how do you discover that truth except by trusting just a little in the first place?”

She jolted around to face him, her eyes wide with protest. “That sounds like a recipe for disappointment and hurt.”

Those forceful words hit him like a physical blow, driving the air from his chest. “Angela!” He put out a hand to touch her. But when she shrank back, he changed his mind. “Who hurt you?” He could hear her teeth creak.

She sucked in air several times and puffed out her lips. “Floods and fires. It’s been an adventuresome journey. I’ll be grateful when we reach the fort.”

It was not an answer to his question. “Me too.” What else could he say? This was not how he planned the conversation between them to go. Perhaps now was not the time to broach the subject of a marriage partnership. Instead, he returned to the time he’d been away from Bruffin. “Did you ever meet Mabel Osbourne?”

“Mabel Os—Oh, I think you mean Mrs. Armsguard.”

“She got married? Well, not that I’m surprised.” Only that he hadn’t heard. In all the letters that traveled back and forth, no one had mentioned it.

“Why?” Angela tilted her head to the side as she looked at him.

“I courted her at one time. Don’t you remember? ”

“I don’t remember much of my early days there. It was all so overwhelming.”

“Of course.” From backwoods girl to living with a rowdy, busy family. She must have felt like a duck out of water.

“You courted her? What happened?”

“Bertie.”

At her quick indrawn breath, he knew she understood. But he wanted to make it clear.

“Of course, she knew about my brother. Everyone in the community did. And everyone had an opinion about him. But she welcomed my interest, so I naturally thought she understood about him and accepted him. But—” He shrugged. “When I mentioned marriage, she seemed to welcome the idea. But—” He huffed out air at the memory. “She said she hoped I’d understand that she’d willingly marry me, but I must also understand that she would not welcome Bertie into our home. The word she used to describe him was mean and petty.” And still made anger twist through him. “I said that under those conditions I withdrew my offer. I never spoke to her again.” At least he knew Angela would accept Bertie. Her affection and tenderness for his brother was clear to anyone who cared to observe.

“Oh, Carson. I’m sorry.”

“It shouldn’t still hurt, but it does.”

“Maybe some hurts we shouldn’t try and forget. Maybe they are meant to make us careful.” Her eyes were probing, full of conviction.

“I suppose it has made me cautious about having people apart from family and close friends around Bertie.”

She nodded. “Cautious about people. Like me.”

“Except I’ve told you why I feel that way. You haven’t.”

Her fists again tightened. Her lips pressed into a thin line. She rocked her head back and forth. “I can’t. There are things I don’t care to resurrect. ”

Put that way, he had to relent. Besides, why did it matter so much to him? What he had in mind between them didn’t require that he know everything about her. “Very well.” He talked about other things. Learning to be a Mountie. Some of the people he’d met while on patrol. Some of the situations he’d encountered, though he limited himself to the ones that turned out well and avoided telling her of the awful ones. “I’m ready to settle down and have my own home.” With a partner.

“You deserve it.”

“Thanks. But my plans have changed with Ma and my sisters getting married. Even my baby sister.” His laugh was rueful.

“She’s pining for him. Poor girl.”

“Her and Robert. Still surprises me.” Now was the time to broach the subject uppermost in his mind. “I wanted to tell you about the Andersons.”

“I’d like to hear, and talking helps pass the time. Mostly there’s nothing to see but trees, grass, and the swaying of the oxen lumbering along in front of us.” She lifted a hand to indicate their surroundings. Her quiet laugh was short. “Don’t get me wrong. I prefer the boring to the dramatic. No more fires or floods or rustlers or desperate women.” Her shudder might have been exaggerated. Or not.

Joe, on horseback, thundered toward them.

“You might have spoken too soon,” Carson murmured.

Joe stopped at the first wagon before he rode to Angela’s. “We have visitors coming. We’ll stop up ahead in a few yards. There’s water. It’s early, but we’ll noon there.” He rode back to inform Ma and Gabe.

“Visitors?” Angela gripped the reins harder. “Does it mean trouble?”

The few times they’d had visitors, it hadn’t been good. Men wanting to rob them. A desperate woman wanting to marry one of the men. A lost young fellow stealing food. Dobie seeking help for his dying parents. She shivered at what this might mean and urged the oxen to a faster pace though they plodded on at their regular speed. One good thing had come out of it—it diverted Carson from probing her past and her reasons for being cautious about trusting people. Of course, there were those she totally trusted because they had proven to be trustworthy. Like Ma and, before he died, Pa. But didn’t that reinforce what Carson said? That you had trust people, even a little, to learn if they deserved it.

She shook her head, then glanced toward him to make sure he hadn’t noticed. Trust was fragile. Easily destroyed and impossible to rebuild. Better to guard her heart than to have it smashed like a rotten pumpkin.

Thankfully, Carson leaned forward, watching for the visitors.

They pulled to a stop. The oxen were taken to water and rest. Angela was helping Ma put out food for the noon meal when their visitors appeared over the hill. A farm wagon, loaded with furniture. Angela couldn’t make out those who rode on the seat except to see there were three people.

“I hope they’re friendly,” Ma murmured.

“Joe wouldn’t have invited them if they weren’t.” Hazel shaded her eyes to see the wagon better as it approached. “It’s a woman and two boys.” Surprise had her dropping her hand and staring.

Joe rode beside the visitors and accompanied them to the camp. “This is Mrs. Hankins and her sons.”

“Please join us for our noon meal,” Ma said after names and greetings were exchanged.

Mrs. Hankins accepted. Her two boys, Ethan and Eric, who were ten and twelve, climbed down and stood awkwardly to one side.

Ma offered the woman a drink of water while she put out food. “Where are you headed, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Angela wasn’t the only one who listened as the woman answered.

“My brother has a farm toward Cypress Hills. The boys and I are going to join him.”

The first question that popped into Angela’s mind was where was the husband and father? But she couldn’t ask it. Turns out, she didn’t have to.

“My husband ran off with another woman and left us without a penny to our names.” Mrs. Hankins dashed away tears. “I’m ever so thankful my brother said we could join him. He says we can work together on his farm. Said it would benefit us both.”

“I am so sorry to hear of your situation.” Ma squeezed Mrs. Hankins’s arm. “May God give you the home you desire and deserve.”

“Thank you.”

Carson was close enough to have heard the woman’s story, and Angela gave him a look that surely carried her thoughts. After all, this proved how dangerous it was to trust people.

His look was equally firm, but she didn’t know what he meant.

The travelers gathered around for the meal. They lingered afterward as the oxen rested. Ma and Mrs. Hankins talked about starting over. Angela couldn’t hear everything they said but enough to know Ma offered the woman encouragement.

Ruby opened her sketchbook and closed it again without drawing anything. “What kind of man does that sort of thing? Leave a woman with children? Thankfully, I know Robert would never do that.” She heaved a huge sigh. Then she sat up as if struck by a sudden thought. “Do you suppose Mrs. Hankins is a shrew in private, and that’s why he left?”

It was one of those age-old arguments that grated through Angela. “Why are we so eager to blame the woman? Looks to me like she’s doing her best.”

“I expect you’re right. It’s just so wrong.”

“Indeed.” As wrong as the sun rising in the west and setting in the east.

“I thank God for good men.” Ruby’s words rang with conviction.

“Amen.” Thankfully, Angela had known a few such as Father and Pa.

They bid farewell to the Hankins family and resumed their own journey.

Ruby took her turn driving the wagon and waved Angela off. “You might as well walk as be bounced to pieces.”

Angela hesitated when she saw Carson had tied his horse to Gabe’s wagon, preparing to walk. But wasn’t this her opportunity to point out the risks of trusting? She waited until the wagons passed before she joined Carson.

“That poor woman.” She didn’t try and hide her challenge. “And they were married. If you can’t trust your spouse, who can you trust?”

“I don’t know.” He seemed weary of the discussion, so she let it drop.

Ahead of them, Bertie and Limpy trotted after Alice who had spied some bushes she wanted to taste.

Angela and Carson slowed to watch and waited until Bertie called his pets and returned to Ma’s side.

Carson broke their silence. “I started to tell you about the Andersons.”

“I started to listen.”

They grinned at each other.

“I watched them work together sorting out their belongings and setting up their new home. What struck me was that they were partners.”

“Partners? I’ve always thought of that as an arrangement between business owners. Never thought of it as a marriage arrangement.”

“It worked well in my opinion. I saw the same thing at Willowdale between Mr. and Mrs. Brown. Partners. Sharing the work. Supporting one another. I believe it’s the way to go.”

“I see.” She’d never heard such a thing, but what did Carson have in mind by telling her?

“Can you think of a better reason to marry?”

She could have said out of love, such as she’d witnessed between the couples on this journey, but before she replied, he continued.

“Think of it. The expectations of romance and—” He held up a hand and waved in a circle as if he couldn’t think of another word to describe such a relationship. “Let’s just say they are often unfulfilled. In a partnership, each one does his share, helps the other, and things go well. Expectations are understood and met.”

“It sounds good.” What else could she say, even though surely expectations in a partnership could also be unfulfilled?

“Don’t you think it requires a different sort of trust than marrying for love?” His hand fell to his side, but his urgent expression suggested he wanted her to agree.

“I suppose. But why does it matter to you? Don’t you hope to marry for love?”

He shrugged. “I’d be willing to settle for a convenient, well-working relationship.”

“What you’re really suggesting is a marriage of convenience.”

“Perhaps it is, though I like the word partnership better.” He stopped walking and faced her. “I had plans to give Ma and the girls a home. It would have benefited me as well, providing me with someone to help. Not only to provide meals and such but also to share the load. Now that is no longer happening. And there’s you. You said yourself that you didn’t know what you’d do when we got to the fort seeing as everyone else is starting a new home.”

She nodded. She had said that.

“Both of us would benefit by becoming partners under the bonds of marriage.”

“Are you asking me to marry you?” Her voice rose to an impossibly high note. She’d never considered such a thing.

“I am. I think it would benefit both of us.”

Her laugh was short, abrupt. “I was going to ask if you could recommend someone for me to marry. A marriage of convenience. But I never—” She broke off and stared with not a thought in her head or a word on her tongue.