Chapter 14

Fourteen

D eciding he would sooner sit in a saddle than a hard seat, Carson jumped down from the wagon and lifted Angela to the ground. She was light as a feather. Well, maybe not a feather, but she didn’t weigh much. And yet he’d seen her swing an ax and chop wood, observed her lugging tubs of water and lifting sacks of feed grain. Small but mighty.

Whoops, he hadn’t meant to say the words aloud and didn’t realize he had until she looked into his eyes, confusion in her gaze.

“What?”

“I was thinking that you are small but strong. A good partner.” His hands were still around her waist, and he tightened his grip, liking the feel of her.

“I hope so.” She stepped away from him.

“I can see us building houses, barns, and corrals. You’ll drive in nails as fast as I do.” Leaning back on his heels, he nodded. “Yup. Partners.”

“That’s what we’ve agreed to.” She freed Sid and Sal and led them toward the water hole .

He sprang forward. “I’ll take care of the beasts. You go help Ma or whatever you need to do.”

She grinned at him across the oxen’s backs. “Do you think Ma needs my help?”

He shook his head, but at the sparkle in her eyes, he changed his mind and nodded.

Her eyebrows rose.

“I don’t know,” he sputtered. “Do whatever you think you need to do.”

“I think I need to help with these animals.” She walked beside one ox while he walked beside the other.

This wasn’t a two-person job. Was she coming along simply to keep him company? He liked the idea that she might be.

“I enjoyed this morning,” he said.

She smiled across the oxen. “I did too. It was fun coming up with building plans.”

“This afternoon we can plan the bigger house. Would you like that?”

“I would.” She stood back as the animals plunged their noses into the water. Her eyes shone with reflected light from the pond. Or did the light come from inside her?

He liked to think it was the latter.

She directed her bright eyes toward him. “It’s fun being partners.”

Had he put that note of joy in her words? If so, he couldn’t be happier. He laughed out loud.

She cocked her head, one brow arching.

“I think we shall do very well as partners.” The oxen would eat and rest without any help from him or Angela, so he caught her hand. But rather than join the others where Ma was setting out food, he drew her into the nearest copse of trees. “I want to show you something.” But when they were surrounded by leafy trees, he had no idea what he meant to do. And he laughed.

Her brows rose again, though her eyes twinkled.

“On the quarter you and I are going to own, there are trees like this. And there’s a little clearing.” He pulled her onward, and sure enough, there was one here. “Like this. It’s a perfect place for a picnic. All sheltered. Trees bending and swaying in the breeze.” He inhaled deeply. “Can you smell it?”

She inhaled too. “What am I supposed to smell?”

“Life. Promises. ‘But I am like a green olive tree in the house of God: I trust in the mercy of God for ever and ever.’” His speech ended. How often he’d heard Pa quote that verse? “It’s from Psalms,” he murmured.

“I know. Pa used to say it. Every time I heard it, I was encouraged, lifted up.”

“Pa had a way of doing that.”

A shadow not from the nearby trees crossed her face.

“I’m sorry.” He reached for her hand and squeezed it. “I’d forgotten how he’d failed the last few months. I wish I could have been there even if it was hard.”

She wrapped her hand over his. “He suffered so much in the end.” Her throat worked. “Poor Ma.”

His heart cracked at the pain Ma and the others had endured and his own pain at not being able to join them. His face must have revealed his hurt, for she stepped closer and wrapped her arms around his waist.

“It was hard for you too.”

They held each other, offering sympathy.

Bertie calling to Alice reminded Carson of why they were stopped, and he released her, his arms cold, his heart protesting. “They’ll be waiting for us.”

She nodded but didn’t look up at him.

Was she embarrassed? Shy? Both? “Angie, thank you for your understanding. ”

Her head tipped sideways, her lashes winging up. Why such surprise? Because he’d acknowledged her offer of sympathy? That didn’t make sense. A smile pulled at his lips as he guessed it might be because he’d called her Angie again. Seems she liked the nickname. He’d be sure to use it again because he liked it too.

Ma’s smile welcomed them as they joined the others gathered for the meal. “Everyone is here now.” She looked to Gabe who offered a prayer of thanks before they ate the cold meal.

Carson sat on the ground beside Angela, searching for a reason to use her nickname again. Angie. He might never call her Angela again. He considered her name. He’d never thought of it before, but wasn’t it a form of angel? Good name for her. Good name for a partner.

His plate was empty although he couldn’t remember eating the food. Feeling guilty for sleeping through his turn at guard duty and knowing he’d neglected his role as Mountie, he pushed to his feet. “I’ll do a little scouting.”

Angie looked up at him. Was it disappointment in her face? Did she want him to stay with her? He jammed his hat on and strode to his horse. Joe followed.

“No need, you know.”

“You’re scout for the wagon train, but I’m a Mountie. It’s my duty to patrol the area.” That was only partially true. Part of his task was to accompany the wagons. But that didn’t mean he shouldn’t be checking for problems further afield. He rode to the top of the nearest hill, stopped to scan his surroundings, then rode to the north. The blackened ground concerned him. Back at Willowdale, the people seemed to think no one had been affected by the fire, but how could he be certain if he didn’t check for himself?

He followed the burned-out area until he reached the river. He dismounted to quench his thirst. Allowed King to drink before he moved on. He rode north, at times following the river, at other times riding over the ashy ground. Never quite shaking the worry that he might miss something. The sun dipped to the west when he stopped, having seen nothing but scorched trees and burnt grass. It was too late to return to the wagon train, so he headed back to the river to make camp. He’d find a spot that had escaped the fire.

A growl greeted him as he ducked through the trees, and he unholstered his gun. King stopped without Carson signaling him. Evening shadows obscured the area.

The growl came again. Carson urged his horse toward the sound. At first, he made out nothing in the shadows, and then one shadow moved and growled. A dog. A big dog.

“Easy, boy. I’m not here to hurt you. What’s that you’re protecting?” Was it a person?

He dismounted with careful slowness. The dog leaped forward barking madly but did not attack.

“I’m your friend.” He waited as the dog snapped and snarled. His gun at the ready, he took one slow step forward, murmuring to the dog as he did. Although the animal sounded vicious, he did not attack. Step by step, Carson closed the distance until he made out the form of a man. Ignoring the dog, he hurried forward and dropped to his knees.

“Sir!” But the man was dead.

Carson rolled him over and peered into the face. Ignoring the smell of illness and death, he leaned closer. He’d seen that face. Where? The man wore a gun belt that held a fancy pistol. The holster was tied to his leg. Now he remembered. This man’s likeness was on a Wanted poster.

Carson examined the body for cause of death. Found no injuries though there were plenty of old scars. He removed identifying items and belongings, including a copy of the Wanted poster folded into the man’s pocket with a bullet hole through the hundred dollars offered for turning him in. Carson would put his death down to natural causes.

All the while, the dog stood at guard, hackles raised, a deep growl coming from his throat. Carson ignored the exposed fangs after deciding the dog didn’t mean to attack.

With only his small camp shovel to use, he dug a shallow grave.

The dog roared and lunged when Carson rolled the body into the hole. “Sorry, dog, he’s gone. No point in you fussing about it.”

He filled in the dirt and covered the grave with rocks. By the time he finished, it was dark. He squatted nearby.

The dog sat on the other side and whined. Strange how a man wanted for murder could earn a dog’s loyalty.

“Did your owner have a horse?” Not that he expected an answer. He searched the trees and found no animal. His horse must have run off or been stolen. Carson returned to King and unsaddled him.

“I’m hungry.” He pulled dry biscuits and pemmican from his meager supplies. “I expect you are too.” He tossed a share to the dog who leapt forward with a growl that ended in a whine as he smelled food.

Carson got comfortable with his back to a sturdy tree. Did he dare fall asleep with an angry dog nearby? The cold air descended, and he pulled a blanket over him. This must be why he’d felt the need to search the area more thoroughly though he had no way of knowing there was a dead man nearby. He was following his training. Don’t assume unless you’ve checked. It’s a big country with many places to hide or get lost.

What would Angie be doing? She’d probably be asleep by now. Would she have missed him? Funny how he missed her, how he looked forward to returning to her side.

It would be nice to have someone to go home to.

Angela jabbed her needle through the fabric. She’d neglected her quilt squares far too long. Hazel had completed twenty, always finding things she wanted to capture—Petey and a ball, Joe’s moccasins, the flowers, the pots of food. Angela was less imaginative or perhaps less observant. But she was drawn to creating this square. It featured a low building with the roof sloping to the back and windows facing the front. A sprawling willow tree sheltered the far corner. She even managed to make what looked vaguely like chickens in the yard.

Ruby peeked over her shoulder. “Is that the house you used to live in?”

“No. Just something I dreamed of.” Why did she keep thinking of dreams? Yet the word marched through her thoughts. All her life she’d longed to be loved, accepted, and valued. Yes, Mama had loved her. So had Father. It had never been enough. Maybe what she’d experienced as the unofficial adopted daughter to the Woodses was fulfillment of that dream. Except it didn’t satisfy the gut-deep longing in her heart.

She yearned for too much. Perhaps she always had. All she had been offered was a partnership. Far safer than longing after the things she’d never be worthy of.

Her fingers grew idle as she stared to the north. Carson had ridden away yesterday at noon. Here it was another noon, and he hadn’t returned. She puffed out her cheeks and returned to her quilt square. At least it had given her plenty of time to do this.

Limpy barked furiously. The sound startled Angela so that she jabbed her finger.

The dog ran from the camp.

“Limpy. No. Come.” Bertie called for his dog.

Angela set aside her project and rose to see what bothered Limpy. A horse and rider appeared over the hill. Carson! With a dog at his horse’s heels? A huge dog. No wonder Limpy was so upset.

Carson reined in and spoke sharply to his dog. The dog dropped to its haunches.

Bertie grabbed Limpy and held him tight.

“You got him?” Carson called.

“Ya.” Bertie wouldn’t be letting Limpy go.

“Then I’m coming in.” Carson spoke to the dog as he rode to the camp. “Dog, sit.”

The big dog did, but he bared his teeth and growled.

Hazel held Petey tightly, even though Petey reached out. “Doggie.”

“That doggie is not for you,” Hazel warned.

At the same time, Louise held Dobie’s hand, not that the boy seemed inclined to go near the snarling animal.

Why would Carson bring such a dangerous creature here, especially with a baby and a small boy in their midst?

“Sorry about this. But I found this dog, and he decided to come with me.” He dismounted and stood in front of the dog. “Lie down and be quiet.”

The animal gave a half-hearted growl, and Angela could almost believe it scowled at Carson before it lay with its head on its paws, watching every move. It was enough to make her shiver.

Carson faced the others. Only Joe was absent, having gone to check on the path ahead.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what else to do with him. I didn’t want to abandon him or—worse.”

“You can’t shoot him.” Dobie’s protest was loud and clear.

Gabe studied the dog. “You’ll have to keep him away from everyone but especially the children.”

“Of course. ”

Gabe continued, “Perhaps a rope.”

“He’s not going to like it.” Nevertheless, Carson uncoiled a rope and squatted in front of the dog.

Angela studied the animal. He was brown with black markings on his face. His ears pointed upward. He seemed to listen to Carson and obey, but he was big enough to make her nervous.

“Sorry, boy, but until they’re comfortable with you, I need to tie you up.”

The dog whined but submitted and licked Carson’s hand as if to share his regret.

“Have you eaten?” Angela asked when Carson stepped away from the dog.

“No.”

“Let me get you some food.” Guessing he’d had little to eat since he rode out, she put out generous amounts of beans, sliced roast venison, dill pickles, and biscuits. She would have given him coffee, but without a fire, there wasn’t any, so she filled a cup with cold water taken from the nearby stream.

“Thank you.”

The noon break was almost over, but she lingered at his side. “Are you going to tell how you ended up with a dog?”

“It’s not a story for little boys to hear.” He ate eagerly but tossed some to the dog. “I’ll tell the men what happened.”

She nodded, disappointed he wasn’t prepared to share the information with her.

“Let’s walk together this afternoon so I can tell you.”

Every whiff of annoyance disappeared. “I’d like that.” She put his empty plate with the others. But when she turned to help Ruby with the oxen, they were already hitched to the wagon, and the wheels began to turn.

She waited as each wagon passed. Not until the last one was several yards down the trail did Bertie put Limpy to the ground. Thankfully, the little mutt decided to ignore the bigger dog and trotted after the wagons.

“Everyone should be comfortable with him now.” Carson untied the dog, then noticed the way Angela backed away. “Angie, he won’t hurt you. I promise.”

“Where did you get him?” She walked a distance from the pair though the dog followed placidly at Carson’s side.

“He was with his dead master.” Carson told of finding the wanted man. “The dog was very protective and unfriendly, but I woke this morning with his chin on my leg. What was I supposed to do with him?”

“I suppose you didn’t have a choice. What are you going to call him?”

“So far, I’ve just called him Dog.”

Laughter slipped up her chest. “That’s like calling you Man.”

“He doesn’t seem to mind. Do you, Dog?” The animal perked up his ears at Carson’s voice.

“Still, if you’re going to keep him, he should have a name.”

Carson stopped and faced her. “Don’t you mean if we’re going to keep him, Partner?”

“Does that mean I get a say?”

“Of course. If you don’t want him, I’ll leave him at the first farm we come to.” He might have tried to keep his tone neutral, but longing added a husky quality. He wanted the dog.

All the while they’d talked, the animal watched and listened, turning from one to the other as if following the conversation, which, of course, was foolish to think.

“How about if I introduce you?” He looked down at the dog. “Dog, this is my friend, my partner, and soon to be my wife, Angie. Say hello.”

Angela gasped when the dog sat on its haunches and lifted a paw to her. “Is it safe?” She couldn’t take her focus off the dog partly out of fear and partly out of surprise, and the latter seemed to swallow up the first. She didn’t wait for Carson’s reply but reached for the dog’s paw and shook. “Pleased to meet you, but I’m not going to call you Dog.” She tipped her head to study the animal.

“How about Duke?” Carson asked.

“Too regal. Shep?”

“Sounds like a sheepdog.”

“Mouse,” she offered tentatively, earning Carson’s boisterous laughter. She was almost certain the dog smiled too.

“I’d sooner call him Bear.”

Angela shook her head. “Doesn’t suit him.”

“Better than mouse though.”

“I agree.”

They stared at the animal.

“I’ve got it.” Angela clapped her hands, and the dog jumped up, wagging from one end to the other. “Boss. We can call him Boss. What do you think?”

“I like it, but we better ask him.”

“It’s good to know I’m not the only one who thinks he understands us.” She bent toward the dog. “Would you like to be named Boss?”

He licked her cheek and wagged.

“Yup. He likes it.”

Laughing together with Boss trotting behind them, they hurried after the wagons that were far ahead.

She slowed to look at Boss. “He’s an awfully nice dog to belong to an outlaw.”

“I thought the same.” Carson rubbed his hands along the dog’s back. “I didn’t find any evidence that the dog had been abused. He’s friendly and good-natured. I believe he will also be a good guard dog.” He straightened to consider her. “I will find it comforting to know he’ll watch over you when we move to the farm, Partner.”

“I will too.” He’d called her friend, partner, and wife. A husband, a dog, and a home. Could she expect life to get any better? She wasn’t going to ruin it by telling him about her past. She could see no way he would ever find out accidentally. Ma wouldn’t say anything. She left that up to Angela. No, the secret was safe.