Chapter 9

Nine

C arson rode beside the rushing stream, watching for anything else of note in the water. His spine was rigid with caution. Could someone have fallen into the raging water? Been caught in the flash flood? Had a home been swept away?

Would he find bodies? A destroyed house? A mourning family?

There! He reined in. Something clung to exposed tree roots. Was there a body inside what looked like gray trousers? The fabric turned in the current. His breath whooshed out. It was only debris stuffing the garment. He might have tried to rescue it, but the water was still too violent. Nothing else at that spot warranted his attention, so he moved on. Something had happened for there to be clothing in the water, but until he found the reason, he’d do his best not to imagine the scene.

The walls of the draw rose higher and closed in until he had to squeeze against the dirt bank to proceed. Ahead of him stood a raw black cliff of dirt, denuded of plant life except for bare tree roots exposed toward the top. That explained the trees and clumps of dirt in the water .

He looked upward to see what stood above, but he saw only sky. Wait. Was that a board poking out near the top? He couldn’t dismiss it without checking. Mud and debris blocked his way. He turned around and returned the way he’d come until he reached a spot where he could climb from the narrow valley. At the top, the air held sunshine and a gentle breeze. He paused to fill his lungs. The effort did nothing to ease his thoughts.

It was hard to believe that such a short time ago, he was enjoying a pleasant morning with his family. That had come to a crashing end when he saw Angela nose-dive into the water. Shock had shuddered through him. A shiver snaked across his shoulders in memory. When she didn’t resurface, the shock had turned to panicked action. He dove into the water gasping at its iciness. A person could perish from the cold if they weren’t trapped by debris. After that, his only thought had been to find her and get them both to shore. Filling his lungs to the maximum, he dived deep. The murky waters allowed only a cloudy view, but he saw her and pulled her out in time. Thank You, God. She was soaking wet and shivering so badly her teeth chattered. If Ma hadn’t been there or one of his sisters or Louise, he would have taken her wet things off himself.

Thankfully, it hadn’t come to that. The idea froze his lungs as much as that first shock of hitting the water had. A man simply did not take that sort of liberty with a woman. Almost sister or not.

Time to focus on the demands of the moment. He rode along the crest of the hill. The grass had soaked up most of the moisture. Still, the ground was damp, and in places, there was mud. And evidence of a worn trail. He hadn’t been this way on any of his patrols, but it appeared someone lived in the area. Settlers most likely. People responsible for the sawn wood that tumbled in the floodwaters .

Tension creaked up his neck at the possibility of what he’d find.

Trees crowded in along the trail. The scent of wet leaves and damp ground rose. He sniffed. Did he detect smoke?

He urged King to a trot. He gave every inch of the area careful study as he progressed.

“Whoa.”

King pranced and snorted.

“Quiet, boy.” Carson leaned forward. Through the trees, a small fire burned. A campfire carefully contained, which meant there had to be people around. He saw no one and, after a moment, eased forward one careful step at a time. The back of his neck prickled. Where were those who tended the fire? A clearing appeared before him. He again reined in the horse and scanned his surroundings. Behind a screen of trees stood a building of some sort. Perhaps a barn. He made out voices.

“Hello,” he called.

The voices silenced. A man stepped into sight, a rifle in his hand. As soon as he saw Carson’s red serge, the air rushed from him.

“Howdy.” The man was short and stocky, his beard and hair blond. Blue eyes studied Carson as carefully as Carson studied him.

A woman peeked out from a tree, most of her hidden behind the thick trunk. From what Carson could see, she was as blond as her husband and about the same height.

The man set his rifle aside. “Surprised to see a Mountie here.”

“We manage to show up from time to time. Name’s Constable Woods.” He held out his hand.

The man stepped forward and gave a firm shake. “Lars Anderson.” He eased back. “So vhat brings ya this way?”

Carson detected an accent. From behind him, he pulled out the shirt he’d found in the water. Then he held it out. “Found this and wondered if someone needed help.”

“Lars, it’s yours,” the woman called.

“Yah. Is mine.” He took the shirt. “Thanks.”

Although the man had not invited him to do so, Carson dismounted. “What happened?”

“Lost our house.” The words crackled.

From the trees came a choked sound.

“I’m sorry.”

“Come and see.” Lars signaled Carson to follow him. The woman came into the open and caught her husband’s arm.

They went toward the edge of the hill. Before them, the ground fell away, a gaping hole with a corner of a building clinging to the edge. The woman’s breath chattered in and out.

“When I saw vhat was happening ve rushed to get stuff from the house.” Lars put his arm around his wife’s shoulders. “Couldn’t get it all.”

The three of them stared at the area.

“Ve will rebuild away from the edge.”

Carson looked around. “Where are your things?”

“Barn.” Lars pointed to the low structure Carson had noticed as he rode up. “Ve live there for now. Horses can stay outside now.”

“Ve need stove.” Both desperation and determination hardened the woman’s words. “It still be in there.”

Carson edged forward to see past the half wall. It had been their kitchen. A table, some cupboards, and the stove remained on the tilted floor.

“I wouldn’t let my wife help me get it,” Lars explained. “Too dangerous. A wife is more valuable than a stove.” He smiled down at Mrs. Anderson.

Her smile was fleeting. “I need stove.”

“Ve will manage.”

The couple studied each other. Their loving support reminded him of his parents. They deserved whatever help Carson could give. “I’ll help get your stove.”

“Ah no. Too dangerous.”

“How much rope do you have? Can you get it?”

Lars studied him, then shifted his attention to the structure balanced on the precipice. His wife squeezed his arm. “Very well. I vill get it.” He trotted to the barn, his wife on his heels.

Their voices carried to Carson though he couldn’t make out their words. But their tone sounded like they argued about Carson’s offer. He got his own rope from the saddle and waited until they returned to say, “I’ll be careful.” He tied one rope around his waist and handed the ends of both to Lars. “Just in case the whole thing gives way, I’m counting on you to keep me from going with it.”

“Yah.” Lars wrapped the rope securing Carson around the nearest tree. “I vill not fail.”

The ground could be unstable, so Carson paused after each step before he proceeded. He reached the wall and pushed, at first gently and when nothing happened, he exerted more force. It seemed solid enough. Gulping in courage, he crept around the wall until the open kitchen stood before him. Should he save the table? Moving it would test how stable the situation was. Or the stove first? It was more important, so he placed one foot on the floor and slowly shifted his weight to it. The floor remained steady. One careful, guarded step at a time, he crossed to the stove. Moving cautiously, he secured the rope around it.

“Give a pull,” he hollered.

The rope grew taut. Carson pushed on the metal monster, and with a protesting screech, it began to move. He ducked out of the way as the chimney pipes crashed down, belching black soot .

The stove stopped moving as it caught on the fractured wall. The entire structure shuddered. Carson’s muscles coiled as he prepared to jump free. He held his breath. Nothing happened. He pushed the stove away from the obstruction, and it dropped from the floor. The mud caught it.

“I help.” Lars secured both ropes tightly, so if disaster should come upon them, they wouldn’t fall. Together, he and Carson carried the stove halfway to the barn. Carson set his side down.

“I’m going to get the pipes and maybe the table.”

Lars opened his mouth to protest, then nodded. “Only if it’s safe.”

“Of course.” It took two trips to get the pipes out. Carson headed back for the table.

“I don’t like this.” Lars held back the rope. “Table is not important. You not mind, do you?” He addressed the latter to his wife.

She shook her head. “Ve have stove. That is enough. Ve can rebuild. You and I. Yah?”

Lars took her hands in his. “You and I together. Yah.”

“Very well.” Carson untied the rope from around his waist, coiled his, and returned it to the saddle while Lars rolled his.

“You join us for lunch, yah?”

“Thank you. I will.” The sun was already far past its zenith, but none of them had noticed as they rescued items. “And I’ll help you get the stove set up.”

Lars looked about ready to refuse the offer, and then he chuckled. “Ve can use some help, yah?”

Mrs. Anderson pointed toward a basin of water, and Carson washed his hands and face, leaving the water black with soot. He emptied the container into the bushes.

Mrs. Anderson hurried into the barn, now their home, while Lars stirred the campfire coals and put coffee to boil. His wife soon returned with thick slices of bread and smoked fish filling.

Before they ate, Lars murmured a prayer in his native tongue, adding, “Thank you for sending the Mountie to help. Amen.”

As they ate, Lars and his wife asked questions about Carson. He explained he was escorting his family to Fort Taylor.

“You have wife, yah?”

“No. Constables can’t marry. But I plan to leave the force in September and file on a homestead.”

“You vill need a wife to help. Like my Hilde.” Lars beamed at her. “Together we build our own place.”

Carson had planned to give Ma and his younger sisters a home. Had counted on them to keep a home for him. He’d bought a house in town to live there for the winter and maybe into the spring while he built a house on his homestead. He didn’t resent their happiness, but it did leave him without someone to help. Not that he needed what Lars and his wife had. Not everyone was fortunate enough for that. In the past, he’d been rejected by young ladies because they were uncomfortable with Bertie. But his brother would be living with Ma and Gabe. Was it possible he might convince a woman to marry him? Not that Bertie was out of his life. Nor did he want him to be. He’d long ago decided any woman he married or even courted would have to accept that Bertie would always be included whether a little or a lot.

Mrs. Anderson offered him another sandwich, bringing his attention back to the present.

As soon as they’d all enjoyed two cups of coffee, they headed for the barn where Lars and his wife discussed where the stove should go.

Carson stood back, enjoying the back and forth between them, even though they didn’t speak in English. It was plain that they were partners. A good way for a husband and wife to be. Partners. He liked that idea. Maybe he was reaching too high to expect more. He’d be content to have a partner.

It was dark by the time the stove and chimney were in place and the furniture had been arranged to Mrs. Anderson’s satisfaction. Both Lars and his wife worked agreeably together, further convincing Carson of what he wanted.

“Stay the night,” Lars said. “You can sleep in the barn like us, yah?”

Mrs. Anderson already had stew simmering on the stove. The aroma wafted through the air, making it impossible to pass up the invitation. Besides, Carson would have to spend the night somewhere.

They shared a late meal, and then he bedded down on straw in the corner while the Andersons slept on the bed they’d rescued.

Carson breathed in the musty smell of his bedding and stared at the dark timbers overhead. He liked what he’d seen and experienced here. Two people working together to create their home. Partners. The idea sounded exactly right.

Angela leapt from her bed, donned her clothes in record time, and dropped to the ground. Ruby was right behind her. They stood side by side, studying the water.

“It’s almost gone.” Ruby hugged her arms around herself. “Do you think we’ll be able to travel today?”

“Won’t we have to wait for Carson to return?”

Ruby waved away Angela’s concern. “He can manage on his own.”

“I suppose that’s true.” And yet— She hadn’t thanked him properly for rescuing her. And besides, he’d been wet too. Had he even warmed up or changed before he rode off? Maybe he’d come down with pneumonia or something while he was out riding. Who would make sure he was all right? She continued staring in the direction he’d gone while Ruby went to the fire where Ma was already preparing breakfast.

Angela shrugged. Guess if no one else was concerned, she didn’t need to be. She hurried to the fire to help.

The coffee aroma soon drew the men to the camp. The talk about how far the water had receded and opinions as to whether the ground was solid enough to hold the wagons buzzed around.

Joe took the mug Hazel handed him, his smile so sweet and tender Angela blinked as she turned away. Not for the first time, she wondered where she’d belong when they reached the fort. Sure, Ma would say she was welcome to live with them, but they deserved a chance to start over without a third person always underfoot. Yes, they’d have Bertie, but that was different.

Angela didn’t want to accompany any of the other newlyweds even if they invited her. Was it possible she could find a position? Perhaps help a busy mother? Though she understood there were few families in the area. It was mostly young unmarried men. Maybe she’d settle down with one of them and help him. She’d ask Carson his opinion when he got back. No doubt he could offer advice. Yes, she was considering something she’d balked at when he suggested it. The difference, of course, was this was something she was choosing, not having thrust upon her.

Gabe offered a prayer of thanks for the food and for keeping them safe.

Angela added her own silent prayer. Bring Carson back safely. Help him have a suggestion regarding my future. One that she would welcome.

“Do you think we can travel today?” Gabe asked Joe.

“Looks like it.” His words spurred everyone into action. They quickly finished breakfast. Hazel and Louise tackled cleaning the dishes. Angela gathered up the items still draped over the drying line. The men brought in the oxen. They debated whether one team was enough to pull the wagons across.

“Joe? What do you say?” Gabe asked.

“Try one and see.”

Gabe harnessed his team and drove them toward the water’s edge. It was nothing more than a trickle now, but the ground was sodden. The wheels left deep furrows in the grass, but they didn’t break through.

Angela stood nearby, holding her breath and praying silently as the wheels continued to turn and the oxen breathed hard. The water sloshed against the wheels. Gravel, exposed by the flooding, held the wagon as they climbed to higher ground.

It looked easy enough. She scrambled into the seat of the next wagon with Ruby beside her.

Joe directed them to a different spot.

“That makes sense,” Angela said.

The ground sucked at them, but they continued to move. And then they were across. Cecil, Louise, and Dobie followed in their wagon with Irene and Walt coming on horseback.

They’d all made it over safely. Angela laughed out of sheer relief, joined by Ruby and several others. Her smile lingered as they resumed their trek.

In a week or so, she’d arrive at their destination and, with Carson’s help, find a place where she’d belong. Father would be pleased at her prospects. On his deathbed, he’d urged her to take every opportunity to start anew. “Away from the past that has haunted you.” The Woodses had offered her that for four years, and she meant to keep moving in that direction.

They stopped to noon at a hill that allowed a generous view to the east and the west. She shielded her eyes and looked at their back trail. Something moved in the distance. Soon she made out a flash of red.

“Carson,” she said.

Ma looked up. “Just in time to join us for the meal.” She turned back to setting out cold victuals.

Angela helped, but her fingers placed food of their own accord because her mind was rushing ahead to the things she meant to talk to Carson about. The others gathered and filled their plates, ready to partake.

Horse hooves tromped closer. Nervousness swamped her over the request she hoped to make. The horse stopped and she looked up. Dark smudges smeared Carson’s jacket. He’d been involved in something. A fire? She shuddered. But she’d have to wait until he gave his news to learn the nature of his discovery.

But first, Ma waved him in to join them. She handed him a plate of cold food. Gabe prayed, and they began to eat.

“What did you find?” Ma asked.

Carson told of the water undercutting a bank and sucking in a large portion of a house. How the young couple had rushed to rescue most of their belongings. “Until it became unsafe.” Despite that, he’d helped get more items out and stayed to set up their stove. “Got soot on me.” He brushed a hand over his red serge. “I’ll need to clean it.”

As he explained the husband and wife’s plans to rebuild, his voice warmed, and his eyes glowed. “They made a real good team.”

Probably the only thing keeping him from rubbing his hands together in glee was the plate he held.

After they’d eaten, they rested, as did the oxen. Now might have been a good time to talk to Carson except he ducked out of sight to change to a shirt and set to brushing his tunic. She wandered over to him once she was certain he was decent .

“We’ve missed something.” Did he hear the urgency in her voice?

He squinted at his top. “It looks clean to me.”

Laughter bubbled up. “I meant our agreement to tell what happened in the last four years.” Walking together would give her plenty of opportunity to thank him properly.

He slapped his forehead, though that grin might have meant he was teasing. “I plumb forgot.”

She wasn’t above a little teasing herself and pressed her palm to her chest. “I’m hurt.” The hurt turned real. Maybe he truly had forgotten about her. Curling her fingers into her palms, she lowered her hand and widened her eyes to keep from blinking.

“I didn’t forget.”

Maybe he’d guessed at her feelings, even though she’d tried to hide them.

He gave his coat a final swipe, hung it inside Ma’s wagon, and smiled down at Angela. “Let’s walk together this afternoon.”

She’d like that, but all she could manage was a nod. She joined Ruby who lounged on a blanket by their wagon. Of course, she was drawing and didn’t even try to hide the page when Angela sat beside her. The picture was of flooded waters surrounding a wagon. On the facing page, she jotted some notes. Water—necessary to survival but also a danger.

Angela watched Ruby fill in details—a shirt caught in a branch, bits of wood floating along. But at least she didn’t draw Angela struggling in the water.

“I am so happy to be on our way again.” Ruby’s pencil stilled, and her face to the sky, she smiled.

So much joy and anticipation shone in her eyes that it made Angela lonely. Once they reached the fort, Ruby would marry. Angela would truly be alone. She must enlist Carson’s help to solve that problem. Was she willing to settle for a marriage of convenience? Could she expect anything more?

She jolted upright. Would she have to tell any prospective groom the truth about herself?

“Ang, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” She settled back on her elbow to prove it.

Who said she had to confess all? In a marriage such as she had in mind, was there any need to reveal secrets? Would she want to know the man’s past?

She could never be close to a man even if she married him. Because the truth could destroy her and any chance to be accepted, and without truth between them, there couldn’t be real trust.

This plan had its flaws. But she didn’t see any way around it without putting her future at risk.