Chapter 8

Eight

C arson frowned at the turbulent stream. A flash flood. Not unexpected with the heavy rain they’d endured. With all the debris it carried, the men agreed they wouldn’t attempt to cross until the water went down. The consensus was it should subside as quickly as it had risen.

They returned to report to those waiting in the wagons.

Ruby and Angela leaned out, watching his approach. Nothing he had to say would surprise them. They’d seen for themselves the water preventing them from moving on.

“We’ll be here until it’s safe to cross. But at least we can have a fire. Hot coffee would be nice.”

Angela pulled a shawl around her shoulders and prepared to get down.

Not giving himself time to reconsider or her time to protest, he lifted her to the ground, reached up, and did the same for Ruby, proving to them all that he was only acting as a big brother, although those weren’t big-brotherly feelings tingling up his arm. Why did it feel different to lift Angela than it did to help Ruby? Angela was part of the Woods family. Practically his sister. Except she wasn’t .

Both murmured their thanks as they padded through the wet grass to join Ma. Gabe cleared away a spot for the fire and set out wood, creating a base and arranging kindling and logs on top of it. In minutes, flames crackled, the warmth drawing everyone close. Cecil and Dobie put out the log stools while Angela, perhaps in response to Carson’s appeal for coffee, ground the beans, filled the pot from the water barrel, and as she set it over the flames, flashed him a smile.

“Thanks,” he murmured.

Petey fussed, and Hazel offered him a biscuit from the tin.

Carson was surrounded by family, a part of family life, something he had missed. So why couldn’t he settle down and relax? Why worry over how long they could be stuck on this hill when they were safe and dry?

All he needed to do was remind himself of the facts and stop letting his gaze follow Angela as she helped.

Soon Ma and the girls had a hearty breakfast ready. Gabe said grace, added thanks for safety in the deluge, and asked for the waters to recede.

“Hot food is a real comfort,” Carson said.

“And hot coffee?” Angela’s teasing note brought a smile to his mouth.

“Especially hot coffee. Thanks.” To make it clear he wasn’t signaling out Angela, he added, “Everyone.”

“Have some more.” She refilled his cup.

Did her attention linger a fraction longer on him than it did on the others as she refilled their cups? Or was he being fanciful? Even foolish? Just because they’d shared close quarters during the deluge, and he’d felt protective? And?—

What? He’d only done his best to keep both girls warm and dry.

He gulped hot coffee that burned all the way down his throat and gave him something else to think about. His cup was soon empty. But none of them seemed inclined to rush the meal, so he took another biscuit and drowned it in syrup.

“I not like rain.” Bertie announced to everyone as he wrapped an arm around Alice’s neck. Limpy, sensing his owner’s fear, pressed to Bertie’s knees. The two cats curled up on Bertie’s lap.

“Me either.” Dobie rocked his head back and forth. “But Ma said I was warm and dry so I shouldn’t fuss.”

“And you didn’t. I’m proud of you.” Cecil squeezed the boy’s arm.

“I liked it when Ma told me stories.”

Cecil chuckled. “Me too.”

“Mama tell me stories too,” Bertie said. “About David and the giant. That my favoritest story.”

Gabe grinned at Ma. “That would explain why she told it a dozen times.”

“Yup.” Bertie crowed with pleasure while the others smiled.

“What did the rest of you do to amuse yourselves?” Gabe asked.

“Ruby drew pictures of Robert.” Carson’s answer brought chuckles.

At the challenge in Ruby’s eyes, he regretted telling on her. Surely, she wouldn’t repeat his story about the murders. To be on the safe side, he rushed on. “I’m happy she and Robert discovered each other.”

Yup. That worked. A dreamy look glazed her eyes, and her shoulders loosened. Then she stiffened and glowered at the water rushing by them on every side. “How long are we going to be stranded here?”

No one had an answer. She grabbed the empty plates and carried them to the washbasin, signaling the meal was over.

When the men wandered down to the water’s edge to stare at the turgid stream, Walt crossed his arms and shook his head. “Certainly a lot of debris in it.”

Cecil kicked a rock. It splashed into the water and disappeared from sight. “Looks like it’s washed away a bank somewhere.”

A tree caught on the bottom, twisted upon itself, broke free, and raced onward.

“Pa?” Dobie called.

Cecil squatted to Dobie’s size. “Yes, son?”

“Can I float a boat in the water?”

“A boat?”

Dobie pulled a thin bit of wood from behind his back. “Like this.”

“Of course. Let’s go over there so you can watch it farther.” The pair headed upstream. “Hang on. I’ll make a boat too.” They diverted toward the firewood where Cecil selected a piece of wood that seemed to meet his specifications.

Watching the two of them reminded Carson of happy times spent with his pa. Pa had taught him to do chores, to fish, to play ball, and so many things. The memories brought a slow smile.

“I have boat too?” Bertie rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet.

“You sure can.” Cecil waved him forward. “We’ll have a race.”

The three took their pieces of wood to the left as far as they could go.

Angela followed them. “I want to watch.”

Carson nodded at the invitation in her eyes, and they fell in behind the boaters. The ground was too wet for Carson to suggest they sit, so they stood to watch.

The trio knelt by the water and positioned their boats.

“Ready. Go!” At Cecil’s order, the boats were released and carried away. The trio trotted down the bank, trying to keep up with their floating objects.

Angela’s cheeks curved up, and her eyes brightened before she and Carson followed.

One boat floated. One disappeared under water, bringing a cry from Bertie. It surfaced again and he cheered. The third caught in some tree branches and stopped.

Cecil made a disgruntled sound as he trotted after Bertie and Dobie. A few minutes later, Dobie cheered, “I won. Can we do that again?”

“Of course.” The sailors returned to the campsite so Cecil could find a replacement for his boat.

Carson remained at the water’s edge, Angela at his side, the sun warm on his shoulders. Cecil was good with Bertie. He’d have to thank the man. But maybe not. Cecil was now part of the family and accepted Bertie as he should.

Carson kept his gaze on the trio. “Remember how I said one of the things that scared me was Bertie getting lost following me?”

“I think that happened to most of us.” Angela scuffed the toe of her boot along the squishy ground. “I know I had to learn to make sure he understood when he couldn’t go with me.”

“This time, it was my fault.” He filled his lungs with the smell of damp earth and shame. “I’ve never admitted the whole truth to anyone.”

“Don’t feel you need to tell me.” She touched his arm, her fingers like butterfly wings in gentleness and yet offering the strength of a bear. “But I’m honored if you want to.”

The words rushed up Carson’s throat. It was time for him to confess what he’d done. Maybe not to everyone but to one person. One who knew Bertie but hadn’t had to grow up with a brother who needed special attention. “Bertie wanted to go with me, but I wanted to play with my friends, so I told him to wait at the laneway for me. I said I’d be back, but I never intended to return.” His ears burned.

Even through the fabric of his tunic, butterfly wings caressing his arm eased his guilt so he could continue.

“I expected he would go to the house, but instead, he got worried something had happened to me and went looking for me. Of course, he got frightened and hid. When I got home, he was missing. Everyone was searching for him.”

“Oh dear. Both of you must have been so frightened.”

He’d never acknowledged even to himself that he was scared something bad had happened to Bertie and it was his fault. To have her recognize it felt like a window in his memories had been opened to let in fresh air. He covered her butterfly fingers with his own and drew in a satisfying breath. “I was maybe ten or eleven. He’s three years older and was already big. Sometimes I thought he should act more like his age, even though I knew he couldn’t.” His voice, now husky, rasped. “I shouldn’t have been so mean to him.”

“Who found him?”

“Ma. She persuaded him to come home. He was in tears thinking something awful happened to me.”

“Poor Bertie.”

Carson’s chuckle was half amusement and half resignation. “He insisted on sleeping with me for the next two weeks fearing I’d disappear.”

Angela’s eyes sparkled. “He’s very protective of those he loves.”

“He certainly is. It was a good lesson for me. Not only to be considerate of my big brother who loves me so fiercely but also to not shirk from my responsibilities.”

His palm cooled as she slid her hand away and patted his arm. “Good skills to have. Not only as a Mountie but as a man.” She tipped her head to one side. “I know it couldn’t have been easy growing up with a brother like Bertie but perhaps it’s made each of you better people for having done so.”

“I hadn’t thought of it but it’s true.” But he didn’t want to linger on one of his darkest secrets. “I suppose you never did anything like that.”

“Like what? Leave Bertie behind. Can’t say as I did. But?—”

Her words ended so suddenly that he looked to see if something had distracted her. Her eyes were wide, and her lips parted. Whatever she’d remembered either surprised or saddened her. “What is it?”

Would she tell him?

Angela fought back the rush of memories. She’d been an obedient child and normally compliant. She seldom raised any sort of argument about the decisions her parents made or what they asked of her. Except for the time she’d pressured Father to let her go to town with him. He didn’t want to. Warned her of what he feared would happen, but she pressed him to allow it. Finally, he’d agreed against Mama’s warnings and perhaps his own judgment.

She soon regretted the request.

“Tell me.” Carson’s gentle words drew her from the precipice her memories had taken her to. Oh, how she longed to tell someone the truth. Only not anyone. Someone who would care and understand. If only she could tell Carson. But if she did, they wouldn’t likely continue as friends. No, she would tell him of something else like…like…

“I’ve learned valuable lessons about trusting another person’s judgment.” It applied to her going to town with Father, but there had been other instances. “There were occasions I didn’t want to do as Father said, but every time I balked, I learned he was right.”

“You’re thinking of something specific, aren’t you?”

She nodded.

“I’d like to hear.”

His tone invited her to…very well. “Pa always insisted the chickens be shut in at night. As soon as he deemed me old enough, it was my job. One night, I forgot, even though he reminded me. I can’t even recall what I was doing. Maybe reading. I was in bed almost asleep when I remembered. I decided it wasn’t important enough for me to go out in the dark.”

Carson caught her twisting hands and stilled them.

“I rushed out as soon as I woke up.” Tightness began in the pit of her stomach and worked its way up her throat. She coughed to ease the feeling before she could continue. “Half a dozen lay dead. Pa saw what happened.” His hand had lain heavily on her shoulder as he surveyed the damage. “He said it was a weasel and we were fortunate it hadn’t killed them all.” A shudder crisscrossed her shoulders, and Carson tightened his grip on her hands.

“Were you punished?”

“Seeing what happened was punishment enough. And knowing Father’s disappointment.” Her insides stung at the remembrance of what her disobedience had brought. “I had to clean up the mess, but Father helped me.”

“Like he said, it could have been so much worse. And you learned from it.”

“I did. Reminds me of something Father used to say. ‘A mistake is a worthwhile lesson if you learn something from it.’” Her tension eased, replaced by memories of the time spent with the man who had loved her so thoroughly. “I miss Father.”

“I miss my pa.” His arm rested across her shoulders .

“I miss him too.” Their heads bowed together in shared commiseration.

Bertie and Dobie trotted toward them with another set of boats, Cecil on their heels.

What was she doing standing in such a familiar pose with a man who was practically her brother and, worse, really didn’t approve of her. Her head told her it was inappropriate, but her body took its time doing anything about it. She managed to stiffen in preparation for putting distance between them. Before she achieved her goal, Carson withdrew his arm but caught her hand as they followed the boat racers. Only to guide her, keep her from slipping on the wet grass. She understood that. That was acceptable from a brother. Angela glanced over her shoulder. Ma was hanging blankets. “I need to put our things out to dry.” She stepped away from Carson. No need to miss him. He hadn’t gone anywhere. No reason she should want to linger at his side and hear more stories about his younger years. Especially when he would almost certainly want to hear more about hers. No, far better to keep her distance and occupy herself with safe pursuits. She picked up her skirt and trotted back to the wagon.

When Angela climbed into the back to find the damp quilts, Ruby shifted aside, her attention on her drawing. Angela glanced over Ruby’s shoulder. “Another picture of Robert.”

Ruby’s sigh had the power to dry the overhead canvas. “It’s hard being apart.”

“This will soon be behind us, and you’ll be together again.”

Her pencil kept shading Robert’s jaw. “That’s what I keep telling myself, but it doesn’t ease the ache.”

There wasn’t much Angela could say to that. “I’m going to hang things to dry.” She tossed the quilts over the back of the bench. After examining the wagon’s other contents, she discovered one box of clothing had gotten wet. She added the items to the pile before she climbed down. Taking the rope they carried with them, she fashioned a line back and forth between the wagons and draped the things over them. The wind was brisk. Perfect for drying fabric. Perhaps it would dry up the floodwaters as well. The quilts blew in the breeze. She hung three skirts, a dress, and a shirtwaist. As she prepared to drape another shirtwaist over the line, the wind caught it and carried it away.

With a little jump, she reached for it, but she was too late. The item danced and floated away. She raced after it. Almost caught it but missed. She was nearing the water’s edge. She couldn’t let it blow across the river, or she’d never get it back. It was now or never, and she leapt as hard as she could. Yes, she caught the edge of the garment. But her feet were not under her. She put out her arms to protect herself as she fell toward the ground.

Except all that was under her was water. Raging, rushing, debris-filled water.

“Carson!” Why did his name rush from her mouth? But it had. Would he hear her?

She landed with a splash. Her head went under water…water as cold as last January’s bitter snowstorm. She thrashed her arms. Must get to the surface. Something blocked her. A tree? She couldn’t tell in the murky water. Whatever it was, she couldn’t escape it as many branches held her. Her lungs screamed for air. Help. Please help. God help me. I don’t want to drown .

Rather than go up, she’d better try going down. She pushed away, touched bottom, and propelled herself in a different direction. Her lungs hurt. Her heart thundered its rhythm inside her head. Why couldn’t she find the surface? Was she going to drown?

Something caught the back of her dress and towed her upward. She broke through the surface and gasped for air.

Carson. She knew he’d come.

She clung to him as he swam to the shore, carried her to the grassy verge, and deposited her on her back. Her lungs clawed for air.

He bent over her. “Are you all right?” His head blocked the sky. All she saw was his face, his eyes wide and worried.

“You saved my life.” Tears poured from her, mixed with the water dripping from her skin. Great heaving sobs shook her—part gratitude, part gasping for air. She trembled enough to make her head hurt.

With cold wet arms, he scooped her up and held her tight. “You scared me. What were you doing?”

The wet garment was fisted into her hand. She lifted it. “It blew away. I saved it.”

“Angela!” Ma rushed to her side. “You frightened me.” On the same breath, she added, “You’re soaking wet. Let’s get you to the fire.” She turned in that direction.

Carson scooped up Angela and hurried after Ma.

“I can walk.” But her struggles were half-hearted.

“I’m going to make sure you get there safely.”

“Bring her here.” Ma pointed to the fire. “Girls, help me. Hold these blankets to give us privacy.”

Louise and Hazel rushed forward.

Carson deposited Angela by flames that gave off welcome heat.

“Carson, you get into something dry too.”

“Yes, Ma.” He backed away. She could no longer see him as the girls held up blankets to provide shelter.

Ma helped her out of her wet things, wrapped a warm blanket around her, and eased her to a stool. She rubbed her hair with a towel before she took a brush to it.

Louise and Hazel lowered the blankets and clustered around her, rubbing her arms through the blanket. Hazel’s face wrinkled in concern.

“What’s all the excitement?” Ruby sauntered over.

“She almost drowned.” Was Hazel scolding her? For getting wet? No, of course not. She was only upset.

“If it wasn’t for Carson—” Ma seemed incapable of finishing. She stopped brushing Angela’s hair.

Carson had done his duty as a brother, a son, and a Mountie, and Angela was thankful. “I’m fine.” Cold, wet, uncomfortable at being fussed over but… “I’m grateful for your concern.”

“If Carson hadn’t seen you—” Ma’s words choked off. She resumed brushing Angela’s hair, the touch soothing. A mother’s touch. It had been so long since her own mama?—

The smile on her face came from the depths of her heart.

“I’d like to get dressed now.”

“I’ll get your clothes.” Ruby trotted back to the wagon and returned with dry things while Hazel took the wet items and hung them. With the blankets again held high to give Angela privacy, she quickly dressed.

“Thank you, everyone.” Where was Carson? She needed to thank him properly. She explained her plan to the others before she hurried to where he stood by the floodwaters with Gabe and Joe.

Joe reached over and snagged something from the rushing water. He held it aloft.

Angela made out a man’s black shirt. “Looks like the wind blew someone else’s shirt away. They weren’t successful in catching it.”

“Let’s hope that’s all it is.” Carson took the shirt by the shoulders.

“What else would it be?”

Joe’s eyes were dark with a flicker of warning.

Carson’s were less dark, but no less hard. “I’ll have to investigate.”

“What—?”

“It’s my job as a Mountie to make sure this doesn’t indicate someone in trouble.”

“Of course. But first, thank you for rescuing me.” The words rushed from her mouth. Not at all the way she’d wanted to express her appreciation. But then, she truly didn’t have any plan, so what difference did it make?

Except for some inexplicable reason it did. Having one’s life saved justified more than that. A little walk at the very least.

“My pleasure.” His smile flashed and was gone. “I need to get ready.”

She hurried after him as he headed for the wagons. “I’ll pack food for you.”

“’Preciate that.” Saddling the horse took his attention. So much so, he didn’t even glance at her as he spoke.

Not that she minded. Of course, she didn’t. She had better things to do. Like putting together some food. She packaged the last of the biscuits and a fistful of cookies while Ma sliced off a chunk of cheese. They filled a saddlebag, and Ma handed it to him.

“This is enough for today. I hope you’ll be back tonight.”

Angela silently echoed the sentiment and stood by Ma and the other ladies as they waved at him. She caught her breath as he navigated his way across the raging waters. Heaved a relieved gust when he reached the other side.

When he got back, she would find a way to thank him properly.