Chapter 4

Four

C arson didn’t like having to crane his neck to talk to her, but he didn’t plan to get to his feet. Facing each other felt too much like a confrontation.

“Oh, why is that?”

“Because going behind my back is underhanded.”

He shaded his eyes, facing the pair of ducks circling the water. “Would you prefer I direct my questions to you?”

“No. I’d prefer you don’t ask questions. What is it you are trying to find out?”

Only because all was quiet around them did he hear the pain in her voice that proved something hurtful lurked in her past. Well, besides the death of her parents, and that was no secret. He rose to study her. One might think that hard look was one of warning.

But he wondered if it wasn’t one of defense.

“I’m only wanting to understand why you were so upset about the idea of marriage.”

Her head rocked back and forth. “I’m not opposed to marriage.” Green shards glittered in her eyes. “Only to the notion that I don’t have a choice in who I marry. ”

“We already established that you did.”

“Then I believe you know all there is to know.”

“I don’t think so.” He gentled his tone. “But maybe someday you’ll trust me enough to tell me.”

She waved her hands in what he took for frustration. “Tell you what?”

“To begin with, what happened to your mother? How old were you when she passed? Was your father’s passing slow like Pa’s? Or sudden?” He lifted one shoulder. “I have no idea which would be worse.”

She opened her mouth, but he didn’t give her a chance to say anything because it was suddenly important to him that she explain why she acted the way she did though he couldn’t say why. Perhaps he had an overdeveloped sense of curiosity.

He held up a hand. “Not now. Not until you trust me.”

Her gaze locked with his. Neither blinked. She was the first to lower her eyes. “It isn’t that I don’t trust you.”

“That’s good to know.” But it wasn’t enough. “Shouldn’t you be resting like the others are?”

“I don’t need to rest. I’ll go for a little walk.”

He didn’t point out that if she followed her normal pattern with Ruby, she would walk much of the afternoon. “Do you mind if I accompany you?”

After the slightest hesitation, she nodded. “That would be fine.”

They kept to the shoreline, stepping over clumps of grass. She stumbled on one, and he caught her arm.

“Thank you,” she murmured, quick to put a distance between them.

Many things about her had changed, but she was as skittish now as she’d been when she first came. Or was it only around him? He hadn’t noticed it with the others. His curiosity about this gal increased.

“Tell me everything you’ve been doing since I left home. ”

Her brows arched. “Four years of everything?”

“Why not?” The idea appealed.

“Very well. On one condition. You do the same.”

“Agreed. You go first.”

They walked a few steps. She nodded. “It’s hard to remember everything. I went to school with Ruby. I think she stayed in school longer than she wanted to give me a chance to catch up.”

“And did you? Catch up?”

“Well enough, I think. I was grateful for the opportunity to attend a school and loved learning. But I wanted to help Ma, so I quit.”

Did she mean it to sound like she hadn’t gone to classes before, or was he jumping to conclusions? Perhaps being a Mountie had made him overly analytical of every word. She rushed on before he could pursue the topic.

“I learned to sew and make the kind of meals Ma made.” Stopping to look at him, she explained, “I’d only cooked for Father and me before. Not for a whole family.”

“You do good now.” He already knew it had been only her and one parent so that wasn’t new information. Was she purposely restricting what she said?

“Thanks. Your ma is a patient teacher.”

“And no doubt grateful of willing help.”

Her gaze drifted away, and a faint smile curved her face. “I took over gardening. It’s a task I was experienced in.”

“Oh, how’s that?”

“My father had a lovely, big garden. He was good with growing things. Both plants and animals. He sold produce, milk, eggs, and butter in town.” The smile flattened as if something had been stolen from her.

He had so many questions. Was her father also good with growing girls? When had she lost her mother? Why had her joy fled as she talked?

“Time to move out.” Joe called them back.

“Why don’t I walk with you this afternoon and we’ll continue catching up?”

Emotions chased each other over her face. Surprise, uncertainty, and then resolve. “Very well.” It wasn’t the warmest welcome he’d ever had, but it was enough.

For now.

He helped get the oxen hitched to the wagons. Checked to see if he was needed anywhere and waited as the wagons rolled out. Everything appeared to be in order. Ruby drove the middle wagon. Angela walked beside it. He rode to her side, dismounted, and fell in step.

“So where were we?”

She gave an eye roll at his eagerness, just as he’d hoped she would. “Well, I’ve done school and gardening. Cooking and sewing. That about covers it.”

“Phfft. Four years reduced to two sentences. That’s not good enough.”

She stopped and confronted him, her hands on her hips, her expression demanding. “Isn’t it about your turn?”

The idea pleased him. “I left home. Worked to earn some money before I signed on with the NWMP, and here I am. Look how I also condensed four years to two sentences.” He preened to suggest he was pleased with himself.

She laughed. The sound of pure enjoyment rippled through him.

“That’s not good enough.”

He leaned closer, pretending confusion. “What else would you want to know?”

“Pemmican.”

He rocked back on his heels. “What?”

“You said you survived for a time on it. Seems to me there’s a story there. So tell me. ”

They started to walk again. The wagons rumbled ahead, leaving them bringing up the rear. Not that he minded.

“Carson, are you stalling?”

“No, I’m thinking.” Where was the best place to start, and how much detail should he give? “There was this crazy trapper and his partner. I knew he lived on the edge of sanity. I was out patrolling nearby and thought I’d check on them. I discovered he’d taken his ax to his partner. I buried the dead man before I went in search of the other one. I trailed him for two weeks. My supplies were low. I didn’t want to take time to hunt for fresh meat. All I had was pemmican. I ate it for four days straight before I overtook the man. He put up a fight, but I captured him.” He skipped the part where he’d ducked the man’s sharp hunting knife several times before laying his hands on a hefty tree branch and whacking the man over the head. He’d only subdued the man because he was out cold. “The trapper had very few supplies, so the two of us ate pemmican until we reached the fort.”

She had drawn to a halt to gape.

He smiled. “And here I am. No worse for the experience.”

Her throat worked. She blinked. Drew in a sharp breath. “Yes, here you are. That’s good.”

“Thank you.”

Coldness trickled down Angela’s spine. He’d relayed the story short on details, but she’d easily imagined him tracking a crazed man, alert to every sound as he rode through trees, across open grassland, and up hills, every vista presenting a potential ambush from a man with a bloodied ax. Being hungry was a minor detail in comparison.

She’d managed to choke out a few words before her throat closed off .

Carson must have wondered at her silence for he nudged her. “Your turn.”

She forced her quivering legs to hold her weight. “For what?”

“Tell me a food story from your four years.”

Right. They were exchanging information. Did she have a story about food? For certain, she’d never had to survive on pemmican. In fact, she’d only recently tasted it when Joe gave her and Hazel a sample.

“Nothing I can say compares to eating pemmican for days at a time.”

“You are not going to get out of it that easy. I know Ma makes big meals on special occasions such as Christmas. Didn’t any of those make an impression on you?”

“They did. They were wonderful. I’d never experienced something like that before. There was just the two of us—” After Mama died.

Carson studied her, but she kept walking, doing her best to ignore his surprise.

“That sounds lonely.”

“Father roasted a chicken on Christmas.” Neither of them saw any point in treating the day any differently from another. Not until she joined the Woods did she realize the joy of a large family and a meal full of wonderful things.

“What’s your favorite part of one of Ma’s big feasts?” he asked.

“Everything.” The abundance of both food and laughter. “Although I ’specially enjoyed her raisin pies.”

He made appreciative noises.

“What’s yours?”

“Turkey. No, ham. No, her savory gravy. No, wait. I think it’s pumpkin pie.”

She chuckled at his list.

He waved in the air. “What can I say? I like good food. ”

“Me too. And Ma makes the best.”

They grinned at each other, then hurried after the wagons.

It gave her a start to admit she was enjoying his company. It was fun to talk about his family. Another pleasant memory flashed into her thoughts. “Did you celebrate Dominion Day with your family, or was that something new?”

“July First. I was there for the first time they did it. Manitoba had recently joined Confederation, and we marked the occasion with a picnic. Another of Ma’s big meals only this one we ate outdoors.”

“Along with everyone in the community. A parade, speeches, a marching band. Some marching bands were better than others.” Her laughter rang out. “I remember the year Mr. Abey attempted to play the trumpet. How can I describe it without being unkind?”

Carson studied her, humor flashing in his eyes.

She tapped her chin. “You know how it says in the Bible something about if the trumpet sound is uncertain people won’t know what to do?” She shrugged one shoulder. “I don’t have it right.”

“I get the idea.”

“Well, in this case, people knew exactly what to do. They covered their ears. Babies cried. Dogs howled. Horses reared up. Birds fled from the trees.”

Carson roared with laughter.

She joined in. How good it felt to set aside her caution around him and enjoy the moment!

He sobered enough to talk. “At the fort, a bugle calls us to various activities. I tried to play it once. It’s harder than it looks.”

“Really?” She held her fingers to an imaginary horn. “Toot-ta-do, toot-ta-do.” She lowered her hands. “See. Easy.”

His shout of laughter carried up the trail, drawing Ma’s and Gabe’s attention .

She sobered. “They must wonder what’s so funny.”

“Maybe you can play your bugle for them.” His words rounded with subdued laughter.

“I shouldn’t think so.” She sniffed to indicate disdain at the idea. But her smile returned. She watched Carson from the corner of her eye, enjoying the way his grin crinkled his cheeks. They tramped along the trail left by the wagons and animals. She almost stepped into a fresh pile of manure. If she didn’t pay attention, she’d end up with the smell on her shoes.

Sometime later, Joe rode toward them. When he was close enough to be heard, he said, “There’s water and grass ahead. A good place to stop for the night.”

“I’ll help.” Carson swung into his saddle but paused to bend toward Angela. “We’ll finish this later.”

She nodded in agreement. Their time together had made the afternoon pass quickly. But enough dillydallying. She rushed to catch up to the wagons, waved as she passed Ma and Gabe, and hurried to the wagon she shared with Ruby.

“Sorry I haven’t helped you,” she called up to the other woman.

“I don’t mind.” Ruby’s eyes had a faraway look.

Angela ducked her head to hide her smile. She’d guess Ruby had spent the afternoon dreaming of Robert.

Joe indicated where they should stop, and the three wagons drew into a triangle. As Angela joined in unharnessing the oxen, Carson appeared at her side.

“I’ll help with this pair.”

Ruby stepped away and went to get supplies for the meal from Ma’s wagon.

Sid and Sal were placid animals. After so many days pulling the wagon across the country, they cared only about water, food, and rest in that order. They reached the gurgling stream, and the oxen dipped their noses in .

There was no need to watch them drink. Nevertheless, Angela stood nearby. “The last few days have been easy travel.”

“Unfortunately, we have a few rough spots to cross yet.”

Recalling some of the challenges they’d encountered, she hugged her arms around her middle. “I hope they aren’t as bad as the alkali flats or the steep hills we almost lost our wagons on.”

“I’ll do my best to make sure everyone arrives safely at the fort.”

Her arms tightened. Should she be reassured by his words, or did they carry warning? “I’ll hold you to that.” Her gaze riveted to his.

He didn’t blink or turn away. “I remember something Ma used to say. ‘We do our best and leave God with the rest.’”

That reminder brought a warmth to her chest, and her arms relaxed. “She still says it.”

The other oxen were nearby and drank at the stream. Walt and Irene called to Angela and Carson and the four of them made their way to camp.

By now, everyone knew what to do and worked in harmony.

Carson ducked into the trees in search of firewood. Walt checked the wagon wheels, greasing them and making sure they were still in good condition. Cecil carried water from the stream. Even young Dobie helped, bringing in kindling.

Meanwhile, Ma began meal preparations, assigning each of the girls a task. “We could use more biscuits,” she informed Angela.

Angela measured out flour and lard. She always made a large amount so there would be enough for the next day. Baking them took considerable time as she could only do a dozen at a time in the Dutch oven.

Little Petey fussed, and Hazel released a weary sigh as she gave him a dry biscuit to chew on .

Angela wasn’t the only one who looked at the young mother. Dark shadows filled the hollows under her eyes.

Ma wiped her hands and went to her eldest daughter. “You don’t look well. Are you feeling sick?” She pressed the back of her hand to Hazel’s forehead.

“I’m fine, Ma. I’m just a little tired.”

Ruby had been preparing vegetables. She set aside the knife. “I’ll look after Petey while you climb in your wagon and have a rest.”

“I need to do my share.”

At Hazel’s weak protest, the women stared at her. Hazel had been so ill and even now seemed fragile. It helped that Joe took care of her but…

“Nonsense,” Ma said. “We can manage one young man.”

“Very well.” Hazel smiled weakly as she left Petey in Ruby’s care.

Angela checked the biscuits. They were baked. She removed them and put in the next batch.

“Ma,” she whispered. “Is Hazel sick?”

Ma flipped the meat she fried. “Let’s believe she’s tired. I did hear Petey fussing in the night.” They both turned to study the twenty-month-old. “The way he’s gnawing on that hard biscuit he’s probably cutting a tooth or two.”

Somewhat reassured, Angela took over Ruby’s task of preparing vegetables.

Carson dropped another armload of wood on the pile and frowned. “Why is everyone looking so sober? Is something wrong?” He looked further afield, taking his time to assess every direction.

“Hazel’s tired. We’re thinking of her,” Ma said.

“I heard Petey in the night and Hazel trying to quiet him. Could that be the reason?”

“I’m certain it is. She’s resting now.” Ma tipped her head toward the wagon where Hazel had gone .

“Good.” He rubbed his hands together, brushing off bark debris. “I’ll get more wood.”

When Ma announced supper was ready and everyone gathered in, Hazel joined them, looking better for the break.

Angela released a sigh. Carson, sitting two spots over, did the same.

Later, Angela went to the stream to refill the buckets for the evening, and Carson joined her.

“I was relieved Hazel’s looking rested.” He dipped a pail in the water.

“Me too. She was ill earlier on the trip.”

He straightened without filling the second bucket. “How ill?”

“I guess I can’t say.” When his eyes demanded an explanation, she gestured to the bank across the stream. “She was stranded on the other side of a flooded river with Cecil and Louise. Louise nursed her, but she’s seemed fragile since then.”

Carson filled the second pail and set it beside the other. “It about killed me not to be there when Peter died.” He drew in a deep breath, then seemingly used it to push the words out. “And then Pa.”

Recognizing his pain and wanting to show her sympathy and understanding, she touched his arm. “I can’t imagine how hard it was for you.”

He looked down at her, his eyes dark, his mouth a thin line.

Neither of them spoke. His next breath shuddered through him. “I hoped to be able to make up for it by giving Ma and my sisters a home.” He looked past her into the distance. “Now…”

“Now they are starting over again with men who love them.”

“Don’t get me wrong. I’m happy for them. But… ”

How well she understood when he broke off! Her plans, too, had been thwarted by their happiness leaving her uncertain about her future. The thought drew her to him, making her leave aside the hurtful things he’d said four years ago. Not that she wanted to remember them. She didn’t.

What could she say to this man to make him feel better?

Nothing came to mind…

Except…