Wagon Train Song Linda Ford

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WAGON TRAIN SONG
WAGONS WEST
BOOK ONE

LINDA FORD
 DEDICATION

No man (woman) is an island. My family truly proves that truth again and again. They keep me grounded. They encourage
me, distract and interrupt me. They make me laugh and cry, and want to pull out my hair. But I couldn’t live without them.
The good times and the bad times make my life worthwhile. Some may even make their way into my books.So this book is
dedicated to my children. Love you all.
 CONTENTS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
NOT (THE END)
Also by Linda Ford
Dear Reader
About the Author
 C HAPTER 1

C anada, 1887
They were almost ready to go.
The wagon with its white canvas top stood in front of the house where Marnie Woods had parked it and taken her
time filling it. She wanted her son, Bertie, to get used to the idea of leaving. He was excited to see his brother in Fort Taylor,
but the idea of leaving home, of travel, and of strangers upset him.
The well-worn paper in her hand crinkled as she read over the list of supplies the four of them needed to make the journey
across the nearly thousand miles. Mentally, one by one, she ticked them off. It seemed like so much…and yet so little, although
she’d been assured it would see them across the country. Unless⁠—
She wasn’t going to dwell on possibilities but on what remained to be done. Besides, if they needed anything else along the
way, they could venture into a nearby town. It was 1887 after all, with a railway that connected Canada with the western
territories and the province of British Columbia. They might have made the journey in relative comfort on a train, but Bertie
was terrified of the steel monsters. Not to mention a steady stream of strangers coming and going. So, they’d trek across the
country in a wagon. It had been done before. Others had crossed successfully. They could find help along the way. But all of the
assurances she’d received and repeated to herself did not make the journey ahead any less⁠—
She would not admit the fear that wound around her heart and squeezed. The Lord is my shepherd…He leadeth me. She
clung to portions of the Twenty-Third Psalm. Lord, I’m trusting You to guide and protect.
Ruby, Marnie’s seventeen-year-old daughter, rushed outside with a box and jammed it between a trunk and a barrel. Marnie
reviewed the barrel’s contents—rolled oats, dry beans, rice, flour, cornmeal. But was it enough?
“Ma.” Ruby’s voice warbled out excitement. “I can’t wait to start.” She dropped from the wagon box to the ground and
laughed, her feet dancing with the prospect of adventure.
Angela, Marnie’s adopted daughter, joined them, her hands twisted together as she took in all the supplies they’d crammed
in. “Aunt Marnie, the wagon’s getting rather full. Do you want me to try to rearrange things?” Dear Angela always worried
about Marnie. Always went out of her way to be a help. Not that Marnie minded, but the precious child should relax
sometimes.
“Thank you for offering but let’s leave it for now. We have a few more days before we set out. We’ll make final
adjustments then.”
An approaching conveyance clamored up the driveway. “It’s Hazel. What a nice surprise.” Leaving her eldest daughter and
grandson behind was one of the hardest things about this journey.
The driver jumped down and helped Hazel to alight. Little Petey, clutched in her arms, laughed when he saw Marnie and
reached for her. Her heart ached. She rushed forward to take him and cuddled him close, his soft hair tickling her cheek. How
few days she had left to enjoy this little one. Only a year old. She breathed in his sweet baby scent. When would she see him
again? She wouldn’t be around to watch him grow and do new things. “I’ll miss you.”
“Maybe you won’t.” Hazel waved toward the boxes the driver took out of the back of the carriage and set on the ground.
“What’s all this?”
“I’m going with you. I don’t want to raise Petey on my own. He needs family, and with Peter gone—” She lowered her
gaze, swallowing visibly. Her husband had passed away unexpectedly over a year ago leaving Hazel widowed and with child.
“But your house⁠—”
“I sold it. Ma, I’ll pay my share of expenses.”
“Of course.” They’d figure out how to crowd in two more people and their luggage.
“I suppose I could go on the train.” She looked down the road toward town, her teeth worrying her bottom lip.
“That won’t be necessary.” Marnie shifted Petey to her hip and wrapped an arm around her oldest daughter. “Except for
Bertie’s fears, we could all have made the journey in the comfort of the train. But we will travel together. I can’t believe I
don’t have to leave you two behind.”
“Good. Now I have something to show you.” Hazel took Petey and moved away a few steps. She stood the boy on the
ground. “He’s learned to walk. Petey, go to Grammie.”
Marnie squatted, held out her arms, and caught the staggering little one. The three of them hugged and laughed.
A galloping horse thundered closer. The rider bent low over the horse’s neck, flinging the reins back and forth to urge the
animal to a faster pace.
Marnie hugged Petey and cupped her hand over his head as if she could protect the child from a racing horse.
A hat pulled low on the rider’s head concealed his identity, but he should know better than to approach at such a reckless
pace. Especially given he rode straight toward Marnie and her family.
Ruby burst into laughter. “It’s Irene.”
“Irene?” Of all the—When would that girl learn?
“It’s my sister. No question. Dressed like a—” Hazel expelled her breath in a gust.
“She’s wearing trousers. Her father would—” But Norman was no longer at Marnie’s side, leaving her to do what she
thought best. Arguing with Irene was not high on her list of things to do. Besides, Norman had done nothing to discourage
Irene’s wildness. Had gone so far as to say her boldness would carry her far in life.
The horse reared to a halt, dirt flying from his hooves.
“Hey, Ma. I’m ready to go with you.”
Although she tried, Marnie couldn’t pull a word from her brain. Not that Irene noticed.
“You’ll need someone to hunt and to protect you. That’s where I come in.” Her daughter patted the rifle in its sock hanging
from her saddle. Then she swung her leg over and jumped to the ground, landing squarely on her feet, her hands on her narrow
hips and a smile as wide as a river in flood upon her lips.
Marnie pressed the heel of her hand to her forehead. Irene worked for a local family with a dozen children and hadn’t
planned to join Marnie on this journey. “What about the Stebers?” It was the least of the protests rising within her but the only
one she could squeeze out.
“I said goodbye to them. They wished me Godspeed.” She patted her saddlebags. “Got all my things right here.”
A lump blocked Marnie’s throat. They’d need Godspeed, His blessing, His provision, and most of all, His protection on
this journey. And she’d need more supplies since her party of four had grown to seven. And where was everyone going to
sleep? Where would all the trunks and cases go?
“Where’s Bertie? How’s he taking all this?” Irene waved a gloved hand toward the wagon.
All eyes turned to the barn, it being Bertie’s usual place of retreat.
“He doesn’t like change.” Not that Marnie needed to say it. They were all aware of their brother’s idiosyncrasies. “I keep
reminding him he’ll see Carson.”
Silence and thoughtful looks were the only response and all she expected. The girls had grown up with Bertie and knew
what to expect. She stifled a snort—well, what to expect often meant expecting that they couldn’t predict what he’d do.
Irene leaned back on the heels of her worn riding boots. “Does he know Alice is going too?” Meaning the goat who was
among Bertie’s pets.
“Alice, his cats, and Limpy. I even promised him his three-legged dog could ride in the wagon.”
Ruby guffawed. “He’ll have all the animals riding while the people walk.”
“If his animals are riding, won’t he want to?” Irene turned to stare at the wagon’s interior, the overhead white canvas
creating some shade over the contents. She laughed. “He’ll have to perch on three layers of crates and trunks with his head
pressed to the hoops.”
Marnie kissed Petey’s plump cheek and handed him to his mother. “I have to check on a few things.” Her heels struck the
ground with unusual force as she made her way to the house to get her purse.
Clutching the wrinkled paper listing the needed supplies, she headed down the road toward town. How would she fit more
bodies, more luggage, and more supplies into the wagon? For the most part, the people and pets could walk, but what about
during inclement weather? She crumpled the paper as her fist clenched. Too bad that wasn’t her only concern. Carson had
provided her with a map for the journey—map was a bit overstated. It could best be described as a rudimentary sketch giving
little information as to where they’d cross rivers or—No. She wouldn’t worry. It was a waste of time and energy. The Lord is
my guide and my rock.
She skirted ruts on the two-mile trek to town. Perspiration dampened her forehead, and she breathed hard when she reached
the store and pushed open the wooden door.
Mr. Dunn glanced up at her rushed entrance. “Mrs. Woods. Nice to see you.” His eyes narrowed as he took in her state. “Is
something wrong?”
She sucked in a deep breath to calm herself. “I’m going to need more supplies.” She’d come up with a list as she trotted to
town, and she rattled it off for him.
“I’ll need a few days to get all of this in.” He tapped the paper on which he’d written the items. “But I have to speak up and
say what’s on my mind. How are you going to get all this into your wagon?”
“Plus, two more women and a baby.” The words shot from her mouth as the tapping of Mr. Dunn’s finger drummed inside
her head.
“Might I suggest you procure another wagon?”
“I can’t deny the thought claimed a good deal of my time on the walk.” A wagon meant another team of oxen. The money
Norman left her on his passing was evaporating, but Carson had assured her she’d have no trouble augmenting what he could
provide from his meager wages as a North-West Mounted Policeman. Laundry, taking in boarders, and sewing were among the
things he’d suggested. Marnie ground her teeth. She would be independent no matter how hard she had to work.
Mr. Dunn cleared his throat. “And might I be so bold as to suggest you need a guide? I have just the man for you. Joe.” He
waved forward a man from the back of the store. “Joe, this is Mrs. Woods, the lady I told you is heading for the territories with
her family.” Directing his attention back to Marnie, Mr. Dunn added, “Joe is familiar with the trail. He’d be a good guide.”
Marnie studied the man. Bronzed skin, black hair in a braid. Obviously, he had Native blood in his veins. Black eyes as
steady as a rock, and yet she sensed no boldness in his gaze. Only interest and assessment.
“A guide?” Someone who had experience on the trail? Who knew more about where to go than the map provided? But—“I
hadn’t planned on it.” A guide plus another wagon and oxen and supplies. Would it never end? However, the very idea of
having someone who knew the way lifted her biggest worry from her thoughts. But how would Bertie react to a stranger
accompanying them? For that matter, how would the girls? She twisted a thread hanging from her sleeve until it snapped.
“Would you consider it, sir?”
“Ma’am, I’ll look at your outfit before I give my answer.”
How reassuring his deep voice was. “Fine. I’ll need a few days to get organized. I’ll let Mr. Dunn know when I’m ready.”
Joe dipped his head in acknowledgment and slipped away before she could ask his last name.

A WEEK LATER, the new wagon and team of oxen had been delivered along with the necessary supplies. Mr. Dunn said Joe
would be along after noon.
The new oxen had drawn Bertie from the barn.
“Mama, they got names?”
“Yes. This one is Sal. The other is Sid.”
Bertie eased up to the beasts. Mr. Dunn, aware of Bertie’s fondness for all animals, had assured Marnie the oxen were
gentle. Still, she held her breath, waiting for their first reaction to her son, a big man with the heart and mind of a child.
“Sal, youse so pretty,” Bertie whispered. “You too, Sid.” Both animals tipped their ears toward him. He held up his hand.
Sal mooed—a plaintive sound—and Bertie laughed. “I like you too.” He wrapped his arms around Sal’s neck and whispered
in the animal’s ear. Then he did the same to Sid.
Marnie’s breath eased out. Bertie was already friends with the first pair, Fred and Pat. It boded well for their journey.
A horse approached. Joe, just as she expected. As soon as he agreed to guide them, they could be on their way. A little
tingle slithered through her veins. Tension or excitement?

IN THE TWENTY years since Gabe Miller had last seen Bruffin, Manitoba, little about it had changed. Yes, the town was bigger
and the roads in better condition. A Mr. Dunn now ran the General Store. But the streets were still wide. The sound of metal on
metal still rang from the blacksmith shop. Horses and wagons still raised dust as they traveled.
Guess maybe he’d been expecting the place to have changed as much as he.
Apart from his plans, there was only one place he wanted to see, and he stopped the wagon in front of the church. Having
been painted recently, it gleamed white and pure, as did the white picket fence past the church. Beyond it were neat rows of
headstones.
“Pa?” Cecil’s call set Gabe in motion.
“Let’s go see your mother.” His boots thudded on the ground. The verdant grass bent before his feet as he crossed to the
wooden gate and unlatched it to swing open. He pulled his hat from his head and clutched it in one hand.
Cecil and Walt both followed to the headstone. Ellen Miller. Wife. Mother. Daughter. You’d be so proud of your sons. They
are grown big and strong just as we dreamed. And now I’m going to repay the debt I owe Norman Woods. And finally make it
to the West as he had planned to do more than twenty-five years ago.
Birds called from the nearby trees. The wind sighed through the branches. Gabe returned his hat to his head while he
retraced his steps. “Boys, take your time.”
Their steps echoed his own as they followed to resume their journey, taking the street out of town. This was one thing that
was different. The Woods had lived in Bruffin when Gabe was last here. Now, they lived on a farm. Norman had written to
inform him of the move many years ago. For Bertie’s sake. He loves animals and needs to be away from town.
Gabe ambled at the side of the lumbering oxen trudging their placid way up the laneway.
A gaggle of women clustered around the two wagons in the yard. Huh. So many adult women. Well, sure, he knew the girls
would have grown up since he left and two more had been born, but seeing them all in a group like that still made him blink
and sit up straight.
Cecil let out a low whistle. “Five of them. Which one you got picked out for yerself, Walton?”
A dark scowl on his face, Gabe’s oldest son gave the younger a glare. “You can start calling me Walt. And I ain’t coming
along to find me a gal. I’ll leave that up to you.”
Ignoring his offspring, Gabe studied the two men. One stood by the oxen of the far wagon. The other hung back by the fence
as if observing. As he drew closer, Gabe made out the second man to be part Native. If his coloring hadn’t informed Gabe, his
buckskin breeches and fringed leather vest would have suggested he was an outdoor man.
At Gabe’s command, the team drawing his wagon snorted to a halt. Walt and Cecil reined in on either side of him. Gabe
chuckled. The Millers lined up, ready to do business. From here, he had no trouble making out which of the ladies was Marnie.
Her blonde hair had faded some, but her blue eyes were just as direct and challenging as he remembered. And those four girls
must be her daughters. He couldn’t say which was which. Last time he’d seen them, Hazel had been a three-year-old, Carson, a
toddler, and Bertie, a very sick five-year-old. They’d all had measles. His boys as well.
That man clinging to the oxen, was it Bertie? If so, the boy had grown into a big man.
“Pa?” Cecil’s voice reminded Gabe he wasn’t there to reminisce.
Gabe jumped to the ground, his movement making one of the oxen snort. The big man he guessed to be Bertie backed away
and disappeared into the barn. Gabe patted the nearest beast of his team, gathered his thoughts, and strode forward.
“Mrs. Woods, I don’t know if you remember me.”
“Gabe Miller. Of course, I remember you. Just as I remember your boys.” Her chuckle was musical as her gaze swept his
sons. “Though they were much smaller. It’s a surprise to see you.”
The unasked question lingered in her voice, so he answered it. “I’m here to accompany you to Fort Taylor.”
Blue eyes darkened and narrowed. “What makes you think I need you—and your boys, I presume—to escort me? If you
look around, you’ll see I’m ready to travel on my own. I have my son and my daughters.” She glanced over her shoulder as if
trying to locate her son, then forged on, her gaze shifting to the man by the corral fence. “Joe is going to be our guide.”
The man leaned against the rails, his expression inscrutable.
The girls crowded around her.
Gabe adjusted his hat even as he adjusted his thoughts to come at the situation from a different direction. “I remember
Hazel was three or four when I last saw her. Which one of you is Hazel?”
The woman who stepped forward held a baby boy. Her hair was the palest blond. “I’m Hazel, now Mrs. Meyer. I can’t say
that I remember you.”
“Don’t expect you would. Is your husband accompanying you?”
“My husband is dead.”
Her blunt answer set him back on his heels though he was certain no one could tell. “I’m sorry.”
The young woman dressed in trousers squinted at Walt. “Didn’t I see you in town some time back? Coming out of the
churchyard?”
Walt had visited Bruffin? Gabe studied his elder son. The boy was dark, darker even than Gabe. He was a man who kept
his thoughts to himself though Gabe had no complaints concerning Walt’s loyalty or his willingness to work. He returned his
attention to the women. “Mrs. Woods, may I present my sons, Walt and Cecil.”
“Howdy, ma’am.” Both removed their hats and dipped their heads.
“It’s a pleasure to see you both all grown up. Your mother would be proud.”
“I agree,” Gabe murmured.
“Thank you,” Walt said. “I hope so.”
Cecil grinned. “I know she’d be proud of me.”
Marnie chuckled. “Especially of your modesty?”
Cecil grinned wider.
“Girls, the Millers used to be our neighbors. I’m sure you’ve heard both me and your pa speak of them.” Her gaze, gentle
on the girls, returned to Gabe with little gentleness lingering. “You’ve already met Hazel. This is Irene.”
The trouser-clad woman grinned, and her hand shot out. Cecil shook it, but Walt hesitated, bringing a hoot of laughter from
the young lady.
“I don’t bite. Or at least, I haven’t since I was three.”
Walt shook her hand albeit briefly. “I’ll be on guard in case you revert.”
Irene laughed again. “Sounds like fun.”
Walt’s frown suggested otherwise.
 “Ruby, say hello to our visitors.” As a pretty gal with rose-tinted blonde hair falling down her back stepped forward,
Marnie continued. “This is my youngest daughter.”
She pulled forward another girl slightly darker than the others. “This is my adopted daughter, Angela.”
After appropriate greetings, Gabe glanced around. “Bertie?” From the few letters Norman had written, Gabe knew the boy
had survived and grown into a man—at least in size. Norman hadn’t said much more.
“He doesn’t care for strangers.”
He almost winced at the blunt, dismissive response. Very well, she didn’t care to discuss her son. Warning heard and
heeded.
“It was nice of you to come calling, but please, don’t travel with us. It would upset Bertie and make the journey difficult.”
Having dismissed him, Mrs. Woods turned to the others. “Irene, would you check on your brother.”
“I’ll make supper.” Angela hurried to the house where the door closed with an audible click.
Hazel, with the child in her arms, followed.
Walt and Cecil led their horses away from the wagons. Did they think the matter was closed?
Marnie held her ground, as unmovable as a boulder.
So did Gabe. He’d come to do something, and do it, he would.
Joe broke the stalemate as he sauntered forward on silent feet. “Ma’am, if I may speak my piece?”
“By all means.” Relief in her voice suggested she welcomed anything to break the stare down. Or was she even aware that
was what they had going on?
“I’m a good guide,” Joe said in a soft, husky voice. “But I won’t be responsible for a wagon train of nothing but women and
a child. It’s too risky.”
“Have you forgotten my son?”
If Joe heard the challenge in her voice, he gave no sign. “I would consider your son a⁠—”
“He’s good with animals.”
“That’s a plus. But I’ve observed he is not good with people. That is not a plus.”
“Mrs. Woods?” Gabe kept his voice gentle. “Please accept my offer to travel with you.”
She trailed the toe of her brown boot through the dirt, drawing little circles. She pushed a strand of hair off her cheek.
Finally, she lifted her gaze to his, eyes dimmed.
“It’s a free country. You can go where you choose.” She stood taller and jutted out her chin. “However, I ask that you stay
back from my wagons, and I will be in charge of my outfit. Understood?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Another conveyance rattled up the roadway.
Marnie groaned. “What now?”
 C HAPTER 2

M arnie had about reached her tolerance of delays. It had been one thing after another. Strangers deciding to ride with
them was the last straw. She’d spent hours preparing Bertie for Joe and explaining his role. She answered his
endless questions and soothed his concerns. But now three Miller men?
She remembered Gabe mostly as dear Ellen’s husband. Not that she recalled much of him. Her days had been full with
looking after children. Then measles hit them all. And Ellen—well, Ellen didn’t survive. Gabe was much as she remembered
him. Big, dark-haired, dark-eyed. His two sons were much like him.
But what were they doing here? And to suggest—no, announce—they were going to travel with her family? Well, honestly,
it was more than she could deal with let alone expect that Bertie could. Little surprise, he’d gone to the barn. It would take a
miracle to get him out—or two weeks of gentle persuasion. She’d come up short on the former. Didn’t have time for the latter.
They needed to be on their way and very soon.
And now another caller. “Has someone sent out a message informing one and all of my planned departure?”
Gabe chuckled. “Can’t say about the others. But Carson wrote and told Walt of your plans and expressed his concern about
you traveling on your own.”
“Carson and Walt?” Her voice warbled several notes higher than normal.
Gabe crossed his arms, his face toward the approaching carriage. “Why does that surprise you?”
No mistaking that warning note. He was protective of his sons even though they were full-grown men. She understood that.
“Only reason is that Carson is more Cecil’s age.”
“Guess so.” Was he purposely keeping his tone bland? Trying not to be offended by her remark?
Not that it mattered. She’d make sure they saw little enough of each other even if his wagon trailed hers. But why would
Carson suggest she needed the Millers to accompany her?
Before she could voice the question, she recognized the passenger in the visiting carriage. “Louise.” For Gabe’s benefit,
she added, “Miss Archibald.”
“Uh-huh.” The sound hung like a question, but she didn’t feel like explaining anything.
“She’s come to say goodbye, I expect. She and Hazel are friends.” Enough information. After all⁠—
She let her chest muscles relax. Gabe did not deserve to be the recipient of her ire. It wasn’t his fault that—well, not
everything was his fault.
Louise got down without waiting for assistance and waited while the driver⁠—
“Not again.” The words would not be held in as a small trunk and several bags were unloaded from the carriage.
Marnie lifted her hand imploringly toward heaven. “Two weeks ago, I was almost ready to go. Four of us and one wagon.
Bertie was somewhat accepting of the idea.” She rocked her head back and forth. “Then we were six, then seven, and now—”
There were no words. Absolutely none to describe her feelings. This was not the trip she had envisioned.
Hazel, having seen Louise’s arrival, hurried out to hug her friend. “You’re coming too?”
“How could I pass up this opportunity?” Louise’s deep and mellow voice made it sound like she didn’t want to miss a
Sunday picnic. “Nurses are needed in the West. Or so I’ve heard.”
A sound of pure, unfettered exasperation escaped Marnie’s patience. “Mr. Miller and the rest of you.” She swept her arms
to include Joe and the Miller boys. “I am pulling out tomorrow morning before half the town decides to accompany me.”
She was ready except for one thing—Bertie. She stumped to the barn and eased into the cool, dim interior. Dust motes
floated in the shaft of light and tickled her nose. The aroma of animals helped soothe her mounting frustration. “Bertie, it’s me,
Mama.” She closed the walk-in door and waited for him to acknowledge her.
“Mama?” The hoarse whisper came from inside a pen.
Marnie remained by the door. “Can I come in?”
“Only you come.”
 “No one else is here.” She eased forward on the straw-strewn floor.
Alice bleated at her approach.
“Hello, Alice. How are you?”
The black-and-white goat lifted her head for Marnie to pat her, then returned to pressing against Bertie.
Marnie lowered herself to the floor beside her son and leaned against the worn wooden pen, letting the muscles in her back
relax. Love and tenderness for this son made her speak soft and gentle. “We need to leave tomorrow to go see Carson.
Remember?”
“I not go now.” His voice was muffled against Limpy’s furry back. Two cats lounged on Bertie’s shoulders.
Marnie smiled at the sight of Bertie and his animals. “We can’t stay. Remember I told you we sold everything so we could
go see Carson.” If she mentioned his brother often enough, Bertie might remember his excitement of visiting him.
“I not want to leave Papa.”
The tears in his voice heightened the ache in her heart. Papa was part of the reason Marnie had decided to leave. Even
though her husband had passed on well over a year ago, Bertie clung to the hope he would one day reappear, often looking for
him in familiar places.
“Papa is in heaven, but he’ll be with us wherever we are. Remember, he’s right here.” She pressed her palm to Bertie’s
chest.
He covered her hand with his. “Mama, you not tell me all those people coming with us.”
She stroked Limpy’s rough fur. “We’ll leave them alone, and they’ll leave us alone.”
It was the best she could promise.
The only sound was mouth noises from Alice, a snuffled snore from Limpy, and purring from the cats as Bertie considered
her offer. Although he didn’t say anything, she felt his slow acceptance in the way his fingers uncoiled in Limpy’s fur and how
he leaned into Alice.
“Are you ready to come in for supper? Angela’s making something.” Their last meal in their home, but she wasn’t going to
point that out to Bertie. In order to start early tomorrow as she planned in the hopes of getting away from all the men, she’d
prepare a breakfast to eat as they traveled.
Flecks of hay floated around her as she rose. “Bertie, let’s go.”
“Mama, I eat here? Just like⁠—”
Marnie knew what he meant. After Norman’s death, Bertie had eaten many meals in the dusty barn surrounded by his pets.
Perhaps he needed the comfort of this last evening in the familiar place.
“We’ll leave before dawn.” She patted each animal and squeezed Bertie’s hand before she departed the barn into the bright
sunshine.
Joe had said he’d sleep under the stars and make his own meals. A choice that suited her fine. She crossed the soft grass,
inhaling the scents of late spring as she approached where he camped.
“Joe?”
The man rose in one fluid movement.
“I want to be on my way before the sun breaks over the horizon.” Her gaze went past him to where the Millers had made
camp at the end of the lane. She studied the wagon, the horses, and the team of oxen—the animals tethered so they could graze.
“No need to wait for them.” Was it possible Joe got her unspoken message that she didn’t want to travel with them?
The guide nodded. “I’ll have the teams hitched up and ready to go.”
“See if you can get Bertie to help you.” Working with the animals was the only way Bertie would agree to leave…or to be
in Joe’s company.

DAWN STAINED the eastern sky as Gabe built a little fire and set his coffee to boil. He’d been up for a time, listening to the
Woods prepare to leave. The Millers would leave too but not until he had his coffee. Cecil, more interested in food, dug out
biscuits.
“Sure would be nice to work together with the ladies,” Cecil mused over his third biscuit. “I’d be willing to do camp
chores in exchange for a hot meal.”
The thought had occurred to Gabe as well. It would be more efficient to combine the camps and share the chores. “I’m sure
Mrs. Woods isn’t interested in anything of the sort.”
Walt tightened the cinch of his saddle before he straightened to consider the Woods wagons. “They seemed in a hurry to
leave, but they haven’t turned a wheel.”
The coffee sputtered, and Gabe pulled the pot away from the flames with his gloved hand. “Maybe they’ve got a problem.”
He shook the pot to settle the grounds, then poured himself a cup. Both boys held out mugs for him to fill.
The three of them hunkered down to watch the motionless wagons.
 “Irene’s on her horse,” Walt said. “The oxen are all in their harnesses.”
Gabe sucked back the scalding liquid. “Let’s get our oxen ready to go.” None of them moved. “Let’s do it,” he added.
Still, they watched the other camp. The boys must be thinking the same as he. It was odd for the Woods to be delaying. He
gulped three more swallows of coffee and then tossed the rest into the fire to sizzle a protest. “I’m going to see what the holdup
is.”
Birds sang from the trees along the laneway. A refreshing breeze tickled the leaves. The barn door was open. Both Marnie
and Bertie were missing though the others were waiting in the wagons.
“What’s the problem?” he asked.
Irene shifted in her saddle to regard him. “You might say Bertie isn’t ready to go.”
“What does he need?” The missing man must be in the barn seeing as all eyes turned in that direction.
“You mean besides his pa?” Irene shook her head.
Not quite understanding her meaning, Gabe remained silent and motionless.
“Bertie figures Pa’s lost and all he has to do is keep looking for him in places he used to be and he’ll find him.”
“He’s been like this since your pa died?” Poor man. Norman had been dead many months.
“Only when something upsets him.”
“Which is often,” Ruby added.
“Maybe I can help.” Gabe skirted a pile of ox droppings and strode toward the door.
Irene urged her horse forward to cut him off. “Bertie don’t care for strangers.”
“I don’t intend to remain a stranger.” He sidestepped the gelding and continued onward.
Hazel shifted her baby to her other arm. “Ma is not going to be pleased.”
The others echoed agreement.
He went to the doorway. “Bertie, it’s me. Gabe Miller. Me and my sons have the wagon at the end of the lane.”
A dog growled.
Marnie hissed. “Please go away.”
“Bertie, your pa and I were good friends.” Nothing inside the barn moved. That had to be a good sign. “Your pa used to
write to me. I miss that. Your pa told me about you. Said you were a big brave man.” The words echoed off the beams. A shaft
of light stabbed through the east window indicating the sun had risen above the horizon. But not a sound from the others. “He
even told me you’re good with animals. Could you help me with my oxen? I’m not very good with them. I’d sooner have a nice
team of horses.” He waited, hoping, praying for a response. He needed Bertie to accept him. They needed to be on the trail
soon.
“They got names?”
Gabe grinned. Talking about Norman or the animals—or maybe both—had caught Bertie’s interest. “I call them Zeb and
Pike. Like Zebulon Pike.” Bertie probably wouldn’t know anything about the explorer. “They might be calmer if someone like
you helps.”
“I come.” Bertie emerged from the shadows and trotted down the alleyway, carrying a smoky-gray cat. A goat bleated at his
heels. A three-legged dog followed the goat, and another gray cat trotted at Bertie’s side.
Marnie followed, her expression hidden in the dim light.
Gabe led the way from the barn and toward his camp with Bertie at his side. The big man slowed at the sight of Walt and
Cecil.
“There’s Zeb and Pike.” Gabe pointed to the oxen.
Bertie headed toward the pair.
The boys had dowsed the fire but still nursed cups. “Boys, go join the others while Bertie and I take care of the oxen.”
At his soft request, they took up the reins of their horses and sauntered over to stop at the group of women—and Joe.
“You stay.” Bertie put his carried cat down and signaled to his other pets. They sat in a row to watch him. “Mister, which
one is Zeb?”
Gabe eased closer to the first animal, a solid red ox. “Say hello to Zeb.” Pike was a similar color only with a white blaze
on his face.
Making murmuring sounds, Bertie introduced himself to the animals and gave them each a hug around their neck.
Having hauled freight for a time, Gabe had met his share of cantankerous animals, and oxen were no exception. But this
pair lowed at Bertie’s attention. After a few minutes, Bertie said, “They’s ready.” Gabe and Bertie yoked the pair to the wagon,
then side by side, walked the wagon toward the others.
In one wagon, Hazel held her son. Her nurse friend, Louise, sat beside her. Ruby and Angela perched on the second
wagon’s seat. Both teams were controlled by lines, which would make it possible for the ladies to ride much of the way.
His pair wasn’t trained that way, which meant someone had to walk beside them. His sons had grumbled at the idea of
taking turns at the task. Gabe was no more used to shank’s pony than were they, but for now, he was happy enough to walk with
Bertie at his side.
 “Whoa.” His oxen stopped beside the others. Bertie scooped up his cats and set them in the back of the wagon Ruby and
Angela were in.
“You stay.”
Marnie must’ve been expecting this for she handed Bertie a worn, hair-covered blanket to arrange for the cats. She held out
an old coat.
He put it in the back and lifted the dog to sit beside the cats. “You stay,” he said again. “Alice, walk.”
That seemed to have settled the matter. With the snort of oxen, the creak of wagons, and the clop of horses, they set out. One
black-and-white goat and three wagons. Four horseback riders—Joe out in front with Irene and Gabe’s sons riding abreast.
Three people walking—him, Bertie, and Marnie, though there was no reason she didn’t ride in one of the wagons.
Remembering her suggestion for him to follow, he let the other wagons precede him and hung back to avoid the dust kicked
up by the wheels and hooves.
He expected Bertie to join his mother or his sisters, but he stayed at Gabe’s side, murmuring to the oxen with Alice
bouncing and jumping alongside him. Had he ever seen a more unusual outfit? Amusement started in the pit of his stomach and
roared upward. He managed to control it to soft chuckles. Even so, it drew Marnie’s attention, and she fell back to walk beside
him. He squared his shoulders, knowing she had reason to object to the way he’d overruled every warning he’d been given. But
he’d put up with her scolding to accomplish the task he’d chosen.
 C HAPTER 3

M arnie walked beside Bertie to the end of the lane. Only to make sure he was comfortable, of course. Fine! She’d
admit it. The flimsy excuse was enabling her to put off what she must do—swallow her pride.
“Mama, this is Zeb and Pike. That man needed my help.” Bertie darted a look at Gabe, walking ahead. He
lowered his voice to a whisper. “He’s Papa’s friend?”
Aware Gabe could hear everything, Marnie nodded. “At one time, he was.” She’d sometimes read his letters to Norman.
But never Norman’s letters to him although he would have allowed her to do so if she’d asked, but she’d no interest. Ellen had
been her friend, not Gabe.
“Bertie, see all the fresh grass over there? I think Alice would like a quick breakfast.”
Bertie called his goat and turned aside to let the animal chomp on the grass.
Once he was out of hearing and she was alone with Gabe, she forced herself to fall in at his side. “Mr. Miller, thank you for
helping with Bertie.” Could she fully express her gratitude without insulting him by her surprise? “I was not able to get him to
agree to leave.”
“My pleasure.” He nodded toward Bertie and Alice. “Irene told me how he continues to look for Norman.”
Marnie would have kept that information to herself, but perhaps it was for the best if Gabe realized how careful she—or
did she mean, he?—must be around Bertie. “He’s been better until recently. Until⁠—”
“Until us?”
It would be easy to blame him but untrue and unfair. “It’s more than that. Every change upsets Bertie.”
“It’s got to be difficult for you.”
His understanding of her challenges brought a tightness to her throat, and for three steps on the dusty trail, she couldn’t
respond.
She cleared her throat. “Why have you come?”
Hardly the disinterest she meant to show.
He shifted the goad from one hand to the other.
Perhaps he meant to ignore her question.
He again took the goad in his driving hand. “I told you. Carson seemed concerned and…”
“And?”
“I owe Norman. It’s bothered me that he passed on without me repaying the debt, and now, this is my chance.” His voice
had deepened as if this debt weighed on his mind.
The oxen’s slow pace gave her time to come around and face him. “I can’t imagine what you mean. Norman never
mentioned any sort of debt.”
The oxen stopped moving because of her position, so she stepped out of the way.
He tapped the animals with his goad stick to signal them to move on. No beating of his animals, no harsh words.
Bertie watched, relief smoothing the tension on his face as he noted Gabe’s gentle way with his oxen. Alice on his heels,
Bertie joined them, making it impossible for Gabe to explain this debt and owing business. Well, they’d no doubt have time
along the trail for her to pursue the question.
Town was in sight, and Irene fell back to ride behind Bertie. Marnie positioned herself at his side. Ruby slowed her wagon
until Gabe’s oxen closed the distance. With the oxen beside him and Gabe at his elbow, Bertie couldn’t run away in a panic. If
only Gabe realized his role.
Irene edged forward, whispered in the man’s ear, and then fell back again.
When Gabe nodded, Marnie released her relief in a sigh.
The road widened into a street. Trees cast long shadows across their path. They passed tended yards, and then the library
with its large-lettered sign. The church was next. Ahead of them, the lead wagons stopped. At the sudden cessation of the noise
they made, the sound of a crowd rose.
Angela left her wagon and came to Marnie. “There are lots of people there. I’m thinking they want to say goodbye. You go
up front, and I’ll stay with Bertie.”
Tears pressed to the back of Marnie’s eyes. She’d said all the goodbyes she wanted to. All she could endure.
Angela touched her hand. “Take Louise with you.”
That made them both laugh. Louise was more practical than any of them. She’d accept their farewells, say goodbye, and
wave as they moved on.
“That’s not a bad idea.” But Marnie moved forward alone to meet the crowd. After all, they were her friends. The knot in
her stomach now ached in her lungs.
Mrs. Parson, the preacher’s wife, rushed forward with a bright quilt folded in her arms. “The ladies made this to help you
remember us.” With a dramatic flourish, she held the quilt aloft. Each white square was embroidered with a name in a dark
color, a Bible reference for a favorite verse in black, and a decoration—mostly pink or red or yellow flowers, but some trees
or rolling hills in green and blue.
“It’s beautiful. Not that I’d ever forget you.” The words squeezed free from her constricted throat, but she wouldn’t cry. She
was doing what she thought best and would allow herself no regrets—or at least, only a few.
Mr. Dunn carried forward a large box and stowed it under the seat in Hazel’s wagon. “We’ve put together food for your
first day.”
One by one, or in pairs or small groups, people came to shake her hand and wish her well. Many of them went to the
wagons to bid farewell to the girls. Thankfully, they saw Bertie at Gabe’s wagon and didn’t go toward him, though several said
goodbye.
The last one to come forward was Annie, Marnie’s best friend for more years than either of them liked to count. They
hugged.
“You write often?” Annie squeezed her tighter, her rosewater scent as sweet as the lady herself.
“I will.” A promise easily given and thoroughly meant. Tears clogged Marnie’s throat. “I’m going to miss you.”
“This is the best thing for Bertie.” Annie took in the travelers behind Marnie. “It appears others also think the journey is a
good idea.”
Marnie managed a short, mirthless chuckle. “Our numbers keep growing. I better leave before we collect more.”
She returned to Bertie. Angela went back to her wagon, and with a rattle of wheels and creak of yokes, they trundled down
the street, shouts of goodbye following them.
Town was a mile behind them before anyone spoke.
Bertie said, “Alice happy to go?”
His innocent question, so far removed from Marnie’s thoughts of loss and leaving, struck her as amusing, and she laughed.
“Alice seems to be happy.”
The goat bounced up and down, ran to Bertie for a pat, and then darted to the roadside.
Oh, that they could all be so innocently pleased.
She could barely breathe past the lump lodged in her throat. But she wouldn’t cry, nor would she look back. Her heels sank
in the dust of the trail. Her thoughts circled beyond what they were leaving to what they hoped to gain. A new life. Adventure
even. And being with her other son—she’d missed his support these past two years and more that he’d been away. Most of all,
a chance for Bertie to move past the loss of his pa.
One of the oxen lowed, drawing her attention to the here and now. She matched her steps to the man walking by the animals.
“Mr. Miller⁠—”
“Please call me Gabe. You did when you were friends with Ellen, if I remember correctly.”
She had. “Things were so different back then. We were young and innocent and full of hopes and dreams.” Nevertheless,
she’d call him by his name and allow him to use hers. Partly because being called Mrs. Woods reminded her of what had been
taken from her and what she was trying to forget.
“And now? Isn’t there still room for hopes and dreams?”
“I don’t know. Is there? You moved after Ellen’s passing, but I never heard that you remarried.” Not that Norman would
think it important enough to mention.
“I didn’t. I moved home so my parents could help with the boys. Then I was busy working to provide their needs. I carried
freight for a while. Learned how to work with mules, oxen…” A pause. “And men.”
She studied him. He seemed disappointed or weary. “Are you saying that in such a way as to suggest men presented the
biggest challenge?”
“Sorry. I suppose I did make it sound that way.” He shrugged. “Unfortunately, it is sometimes true.”
“You won’t hear an argument from me.”
They studied each other until it grew awkward.
He broke the silence. “I might like to hear your experiences in the matter.”
 “And I yours.” Something—perhaps a promise of more time to talk and share their experiences—passed between them.
That, and if she was willing to admit it, a sense of camaraderie. Well, why not enjoy the Millers’ company? “What did you do
besides carry freight?”
“I did some blacksmithing. Helped Pa on the farm, but Walt kind of took over running the place when it got to be too much
for my pa.”
“Where are your folks now? It must be hard leaving them.” Even if it was only to see her across the country.
“They have both passed away. Pa eight years ago now and Ma two years past.”
“I’m sorry.” Had Norman mentioned it, and she hadn’t taken note?
“We don’t get to choose what happens in our lives, but we do get to choose how we’re going to respond to it.”
The words, so unexpectedly wise, suggested he’d faced difficult choices and chose a path that avoided bitterness. Maybe
someday she’d gather up the courage to ask for specific details.
Alice galloped over to a tasty-looking bush beside the road, Bertie in her wake. The lead wagons continued on their way,
but when Marnie slowed to stay with her son, Gabe stopped his oxen.
“You don’t need to wait for me.”
“It’s kind of fun to watch Alice standing on her hind legs to reach the tastiest leaves.” He laughed, a pleasant, contented
sound. “At least, I assume that’s why she’s reaching for them.”
Contented? Why had that word crossed her mind? She knew far too little of him to make such an assumption. And yet if
someone had asked her to give a word of assessment regarding him, it’s the one she’d use.
She shifted to watch Bertie more closely, and if that allowed her to study Gabe out of the corner of her eye, surely no one
would notice. His face had weathered into pleasant lines that indicated either squinting in the sun or smiling at things. Both, she
guessed. His jaw was firm, darkened by the black shadow of his whiskers. Norman had once called him “a man’s man.” She’d
asked where he’d heard such a term and what it meant. Apparently, he’d read it in a news article and took it to mean a man
people looked up to and other men admired. Still not quite sure what the description meant, she could nevertheless see Gabe
had an aura about him of confidence blended with kindness.
She admired the qualities.
Not that she meant to let that admiration mean anything but a passing acknowledgment.
“Ma? Something wrong?” Irene called, jerking Marnie away from her thoughts.
“Just waiting for—” But Bertie and Alice were several yards ahead at the back of Ruby’s wagon. He appeared to be
talking to his pet.
“Ma!” Irene’s alarm jabbed up and down Marnie’s spine.

THE WARNING NOTE in Irene’s voice brought Gabe’s head up. He scanned their surroundings but saw nothing concerning. He
eased to his left to see past the other wagons. A horseback rider approached. Had it triggered such reaction? Marnie raced
ahead to walk at Bertie’s side. Irene rode close to his other side. Just as they’d done approaching Bruffin.
Bertie didn’t like strangers.
When Bertie was upset, it seemed he ran.
Gabe urged his oxen forward to close the distance between his wagon and Ruby’s as he had done earlier in town. They
breathed down Bertie and Marnie’s necks. She glanced back, saw the animals, and mouthed a thank you, then refocused on her
son, petting the cats in the back of the wagon, talking to Bertie, and distracting him from the rider who rode by with a polite tip
of his hat.
The wagons creaked. Walt’s horse, walking beside Ruby’s wagon, snorted and tossed its head, bringing a firm word from
Walt. Not until Bertie chased Alice to the side of the trail did the travelers relax.
Marnie slowed to walk by his side. “Thanks for helping with Bertie.”
“All I did was keep my oxen moving.”
She looked ready to argue, then changed her mind. “Can you tell me about this debt you think you owe Norman?”
The memories rushed forward as they always did when he recalled those days. Memories that were no longer painful but a
dark part of his life. “When Ellen died so unexpectedly and left me with two little boys to raise, I guess you could say I kind of
lost my way. I didn’t see how I could go on.” She’d better not hear the way his throat had grown tight. “I asked Norman to take
my boys.” The constriction stopped any further words.
“What?” Marnie stared at him. “Norman never said a word to me.”
Gabe found his voice. “Because he talked sense to me instead. He spent many hours with me. I apologize to you for that. I
know you had your hands full with sick babies and could have used his help.”
“I had no idea. I thought he was busy with projects. His carpentry work often had him putting in long hours.” Her arms
crept around her middle, and she ducked her head, growing thoughtful. “I don’t see that as being anything but a good friend and
a good neighbor.”
“There’s more.” So much more. He avoided a steaming pile of manure and used the diversion to gather his thoughts. “He
came to offer his condolences and found me in the very pit of despair. I’ve never told anyone but Norman what a dark place I
was in. How was I to bury my wife and the mother of my boys? Norman got a neighbor woman in to watch the boys, then took
me to the undertaker and preacher to arrange the burial and funeral.” Each word grated up his throat. “He returned on the day to
help me dress the boys and set out clothes for me. Then he made sure I got to the church.”
Marnie’s hand brushed his. “I wasn’t able to attend. It’s something I regret.”
His fist relaxed under her touch. “Ellen would have understood. It was a tough time for many of us.”
“Still, Norman was only doing what a good neighbor would do.”
“He arranged for me to return home. Even bought the tickets for the three of us on the stagecoach. I wanted to refuse, but it
was already done. All I had to do was take my bags and my boys and climb into the coach.”
Marnie stopped, her eyes wide as she stared straight ahead. “I never knew any of this.”
Did accusation underplay her surprise?
“He would never let me pay him back with money. But I can do this.” He pointed toward the wagons in front of them.
Marnie walked ahead then stopped and turned to face him. “He never once said a word about it.”
When she turned her back and hurried forward to Ruby’s wagon, he let her go. He’d give her time. Then maybe she’d tell
him how she felt. The pungent smell of fresh horse droppings alerted him to step around the pile and pay attention to where he
walked.
One of the young ladies shouted something, and Irene urged her horse forward at a race and skidded to a halt at the lead
wagon.
Marnie shook her head and muttered.
“Settle down.” Walt spoke in a voice that matched the tone he’d used with his horse when the animal was misbehaving.
Irene raced back at the same frantic pace and had her horse rear on his hind legs. While Marnie stepped back to avoid both
the horse and the spray of dirt, Irene flashed a wide smile.
The girl was wild. It better not cause problems on this trip.
“Ma, Hazel says the smell of food from the box reminds her how hungry she is and asks if we can take a noon break.”
Gabe jerked his head upward. Whoa. Was the sun already directly overhead? How was that even possible?
“Guess it is about time. Ride on ahead and tell Joe to find a good spot.”
Irene wheeled her horse about and raced away.
Walt had fallen back to Gabe’s side. “Seems that gal is set on getting herself and maybe everyone else into trouble.” His
piece spoken, he moved ahead.
Gabe winced. When would Walt learn not to be insensitive enough to speak like that when the girl’s mother could hear?
“I don’t care to have my children criticized.” Marnie raised her chin, each of her words dropping with the weight of
disapproval.
Not that he was responsible for how his eldest son spoke. After all, Walt was now twenty-four and a full-grown man
entitled to his opinions. And reaping the harvest for every word. Nevertheless— “I’m sorry for what he said. He’s always had
firm opinions and doesn’t mind speaking them. Sometimes that’s a good thing.” He sucked in dusty air. “Sometimes it isn’t.”
Marnie looked to the sky. Perhaps to assess the time, check the weather, or seek patience from on high. The breath she drew
in seemed enough to fill three pairs of lungs. She stopped, crossed her arms, and faced him. “Irene is on the wild side, but I
don’t believe she’s reckless. However, I still don’t care to have her faults pointed out to me.”
“I feel the same about my sons.”
The look between them sparked with warning and perhaps challenge. Did he have the feeling that she didn’t object to the
latter? Or was that acknowledgment of something beginning inside him? A bit of banter would help pass the time on this
journey.
Joe rode to them. “Ma’am, a good spot ahead. Water and grass for the animals. Sheltered from the road.”
“Thanks, Joe.” After the guide rode away, she raised her gaze again. Again, the spark of challenge flashed in her eyes.
Very well, Mrs. Woods, we will be the iron that sharpens iron for each other.
Or was he only hoping for the amusement of such?
 C HAPTER 4

N o need to admit she was far more interested in resting her feet than filling her stomach, but no doubt, the others were
hungry and thirsty. Joe directed them to a place by a tumbling stream with leafy trees sheltering the clearing. A breeze
carried the scent of water and greenery. Marnie lifted her face to the sky. Lord, it’s been a good start to our journey.
Thank You.
Bertie and Alice raced to the river’s edge where Bertie lay on his stomach and dipped his face to the water. Alice drank
greedily. Marnie smiled at her big, gentle son. With his childlike innocence, he was a pleasure to have around.
Harnesses rattled where Ruby and Hazel were preparing to free the oxen from the wagons to let them graze and drink. Walt
and Cecil hurried to help. Neither of her daughters protested, but Irene shook her head in disgust.
“I don’t need any man to do my chores for me,” she muttered as she led her horse to water.
“Nor do I see anyone offering.” Walt’s words, although soft-spoken, carried criticism.
Irene tossed her head, causing her hair to fly in all directions. Hadn’t she started out with her hair tied into a braid? When
and why had she loosened it?
Marnie let out a long-suffering sigh. Having the Millers accompanying them was going to complicate things and change the
mood from relaxed to almost quarrelsome. But then what could she expect? It wasn’t possible to put young women and young
men together without sparks of one sort or the other flying. Better a spark of annoyance than a spark of attraction though how
long before there’d be both?
She’d do everything she could to keep the peace. Starting with not letting herself be upset by Gabe’s news. It was like
Norman to help someone and not think to mention it.
Hazel returned to their wagon and scooped Petey from his perch. He fussed and threw himself backward.
“He needs to move about but—” Hazel surveyed the grassy area. Her gaze went toward the river, a few yards away.
Joe turned from tending his horse. “He’s safe here.”
Hazel hesitated, but when Petey whined and squirmed, she put him down. The grass caught on his feet, and he tripped, let
out a short-lived wail, and then crawled through the grass, letting it tickle his chin, as he made his way toward Alice.
“Limpy, Fluff, and Smoke walk too.” Bertie ran to the wagon and lifted his pets down. “Stay with Alice.” The three smaller
animals drank and then poked through the grass.
“Do they understand him?” Gabe’s soft words were curious but not unkind.
“I’m never sure. But they don’t go far from him, so I don’t need to worry.” The trees and bushes were thick beyond the
clearing. If the cats or Limpy decided to go adventuring⁠—
“Then why are you biting your lip?”
She laughed. “I suppose I can’t help but be a little”—she wouldn’t say worried, not after informing him she wasn’t—“um,
concerned.”
With a dark-colored patchwork quilt slung over her shoulder, Louise staggered under the weight of the box of food she
carried. She lowered it to a grassy spot, shook the folds from the quilt, and spread it beside the box before kneeling and
digging out the contents. “This smells heavenly. Anyone else hungry?”
Bertie wiped his mouth on his shirtsleeve and hurried to kneel at Louise’s side. “Me. I hungry.”
Louise draped her arm across Bertie’s shoulders, though she had to stretch to do so. She was one of the few outside the
family he allowed to touch him.
The others stood at the quilt’s edge except Joe, who stayed back perhaps not feeling he belonged. Perhaps he’d been made
to feel that way because of his race.
Marnie hoped she could dispel him of that feeling before long. She welcomed him so long as Bertie didn’t overreact.
“Can we eat?” Ruby asked. “I’m starved to a shadow.”
They never ate without asking a blessing, but with men present, Marnie was uncomfortable being the one to say grace.
“Gabe, would you pray over our food?”
“My pleasure.”
Her breath eased out. She knew nothing of his beliefs or faith. He and Ellen had been churchgoers and seemed keen
adherents, but that was twenty years ago. He could have turned his back on God, or his relationship might have deepened. It
was nice to think he still followed Him.
The Millers all removed their hats as Gabe bowed his head. “Father God, thank You for these provisions. Thank You for
the journey ahead that will take us to new opportunities. Please keep us safe. Amen.”
His words settled through Marnie like a sweet drink. Not just thanks for the food but a prayer for their journey that seemed
like a benediction.
Louise lifted the lid from a square tin and sniffed. “Fried chicken. I knew I could smell it. They must have butchered three
hens to make this much.” She passed the tin to Cecil who stood at her side. He selected a piece and passed it on. As she ate,
she dug further into the box. “Biscuits, cheese, ham, two cakes, several kinds of cookies, two loaves of bread already sliced,
and a dozen boiled eggs. We sure aren’t going to go hungry for a meal or two.”
Only an occasional comment on the food or Hazel calling Petey interrupted as they ate. Their appetite satisfied, at Joe’s
instructions, they rested while the oxen ate.
“I’ll watch Petey,” Marnie offered Hazel. “You take a nap while you can.”
Soon Hazel was curled on her side under the shade of a towering maple tree, her breathing deepening.
Petey on all fours, scrambled toward the river, but before Marnie could get to her feet, Joe reached the baby, lifted him by
the back of his garment, and turned him about, marching his fingers up and down Petey’s spine as he released him.
Petey laughed and rolled over on his back to look at the man.
Joe hunkered beside Petey, broke off a blade of grass, and ran it across Petey’s face, eliciting giggles. The guide looked up,
saw Marnie watching, and pushed to his feet. “Time to move.” He stepped away from the baby. “Mrs. Woods, if you continue
on the road, we will reach another town in five miles.” His gaze shifted to Bertie who sat nearby, his pets surrounding him. “Or
we could cross this river and follow an old less-used trail.”
Marnie studied the water that ran deep and swift. A tingle started at the base of her spine. But this river wouldn’t be the
only one they must conquer.
“It’s best if we avoid towns. Take us to the old trail.”
Murmurs of agreement rose from her girls. Gabe watched without comment but tipped his head to indicate he agreed. Not
that she needed his agreement. She’d been clear that she’d make the decisions on this journey. But when did she start feeling
more comfortable with the three Miller men accompanying her? When did she admit that their presence could be a help?
The oxen lowed as they were brought back to the wagons. Petey squealed with delight as Hazel scooped him up. Harnesses
rattled as they set out. For half an hour, they followed the river as trees crowded closer.
Joe lifted his arm to signal them to stop. “We cross here. I’ll go first to check it. Then I’ll come back and guide you over.”
He rode his horse into the water, angling upstream. The current flowed around him with barely a break in its rush. The
water deepened, rose to his stirrups. He lifted his feet to keep them from getting wet and lowered them once the water grew
shallower again.
He reached the other side, then rode back. “Easy crossing.”
Joe rode at the head of the team pulling the first wagon with Hazel, Petey, and Louise. He clicked his tongue to make them
move while Walt rode on the other side to ensure the oxen didn’t swing off course. Water veed around the wheels, and drops
splattered the canvas top.
Louise called out, “Hiyah.”
A wheel dropped into a deep spot, and the wagon dipped.
Marnie gasped and closed her eyes. Lord, keep them safe. Keep them safe.
“They’re across.”
Gabe’s reassuring voice made her jerk her eyes open. When had she grabbed his arm? Her face burning, she stepped away.
He grinned. “I don’t mind having my arm in a vise.”
She sniffed. “You could pretend not to notice.”
The man had the nerve to guffaw, drawing everyone’s attention.
“Pa?” Cecil sounded amused.
Irene studied her mother, no doubt noticing her burning cheeks. Then grinning, she followed Ruby’s wagon across the
stream. Bertie rode in the back, his arms around Alice’s neck.
“Guess you’ll have to ride in my wagon.” Gabe waved his hand in a courtly gesture.
Too late for Marnie to board one of the other wagons. Now, she had no choice but to accept his offer unless she wanted to
wade. Which she most certainly did not.
“There must have been something in that food.” She made no attempt to hide her annoyance.
“Oh, what makes you say that?” He held out his hand to help her climb up.
 She only half graciously accepted his help and settled herself on the hard wooden bench. “Because everyone is acting
strangely.”
“Or maybe they’re just enjoying themselves.” He hitched himself up beside her.
She hadn’t expected that and forced herself not to slide away. “Who’s going to drive the oxen?”
“My sons. Why do you think I brought them along?” Smirking, he pointed to them, one riding on either side of the team.
They entered the stream. Water sloshed around the wheels.
She gripped the bench hard enough to cramp her hands.
“We’re safe.” His voice did little to calm her.
“I don’t care for water any deeper than my ankles.” Not water like this that rose to the oxen’s bellies, splashed upward and
wet her hands, and flowed on unmindful of a wagon and animals in its midst.
“Not even the soles of your shoes are going to get wet.”
The wagon lurched, and she dared to look up. They had reached the far bank and climbed to safety. She uncoiled her fingers
until she could move her hands to her lap.
Joe led them to an almost nonexistent trail, and Cecil and Walt stayed beside Gabe’s team.
“Thought we could both ride for a bit.” Gabe answered before she could ask.
“But I should—” She pointed to the wagons ahead. “Petey and Hazel.” She’d thought to take Petey and let Hazel take a
break.
“They’ll be fine. Louise can take care of anything.” A smile grew on his lips as he looked toward the wagon. “And
everything, I think.”
Marnie’s tense muscles relaxed, and she laughed at his astute observation. “Of course she can. After all, that woman had
the fortitude to train as a nurse.”
“Sit back and enjoy the scenery.”
No point in arguing. The sky was blue, the trees brimming with new life. She breathed in, filling her lungs to capacity. “It’s
nice. Not as much dust.”
“Trees are closer too. You can hear the birds singing.”
“Hmm. A robin.”
Gabe cocked his head to one side. “A chickadee.”
A raucous bird flew overhead. “A crow,” they said in unison and laughed.
The crow flew close to Ruby and Angela’s wagon, setting Limpy to barking. Bertie, still riding in the back, patted the dog
and got his face licked.
Marnie and Gabe looked at each other. Something warm and reassuring came from his gaze.
This journey might be more fun than she’d expected.

HIS SONS KEPT GIVING him glances and looking at each other. Cecil grinned, and Walt shook his head. He, no doubt, thought his
pa was too old to enjoy the company of a pretty woman. The truth was, it rather surprised Gabe to realize he wasn’t. Nor too
old to have forgotten the fun of mild teasing and the scent of a woman’s soap.
Whoa. No need for such wayward thoughts. Now was a good time to ask about the money Norman had lent—no, given—
him.
“I know you were unaware of how Norman helped me.”
“Norman was like that. He did things out of the goodness of his heart without any further thought of it.”
A porcupine ambled alongside the trail, ignoring the passing wagons. Gabe pointed it out. “I need to know if it caused you
any hardship.” What would he do to erase that struggle if she said it had?
“Not that I’m aware of. I’ve been thinking about what you said and remembered something. He had a gold watch he’d
inherited from his grandfather. It seemed to disappear. I can’t say when I first noticed it, but I wonder now if he didn’t sell it to
help you.”
Her voice carried no condemnation, no surprise, but shock at Norman making such a sacrifice grabbed at Gabe’s gut. He
wished he had reins to grasp. Instead, he curled his fists and stared at the oxen’s swishing tails.
“Marnie, I am so sorry. I can pay back the money he gave me. I can repay the favor by going with you to Fort Taylor, but I
can never replace a family treasure.” At least, his voice sounded strong, although his insides quaked something fearsome.
She swatted away a fly. “I believe Norman would be offended that you feel you need to. He believed a gift was given with
no strings attached. He was a firm believer in the right hand not knowing what the left hand did.”
“That sounds like Norman. He was a generous man.”
“He was a good man.”
“I’m sorry for your loss.” Words were so inadequate. He’d lost Ellen when they were young. Had his hopes and dreams
snatched from him. But to lose your mate later in life somehow seemed harder.
“Thank you.” She turned her palms upward and appeared to study them. A sigh sifted past her lips.
They bumped over the narrow trail a few minutes.
“Something troubling you?” he asked.
“Losing Norman wasn’t the worst part. It was seeing him in such pain.” She rubbed her fingers on her chest, sucked in air,
and lowered her hand to her lap. A shudder shook her. “The end was a merciful relief.”
“Marnie, I am doubly sorry.” Ignoring every code of conduct he knew about touching a woman he wasn’t married to or at
least betrothed to, he rested his hand over hers, keeping it there until he felt her relax. Then he returned to following the rules
and wove his fingers together.
Ahead of them, the wagons slowed and stopped. Walt and Cecil rode up to talk to Joe. Irene joined them.
“I’ll see what the problem is.” Gabe’s boots landed on soft grass as he jumped from the wagon and strode along the trail
where Joe waited for him.
“I’m going to scout ahead. Just follow the trail.” The way Joe looked from one of them to the other, there must be something
he wasn’t saying.
“I’ll ride lead,” Walt said.
At Joe’s nod, Gabe winced. Obviously, his son’s suggestion was what Joe wanted. Something Gabe should have thought of
himself.
“I’ll ride along.” Irene flashed a grin at Walt, almost as if trying to annoy him.
And it worked. Walt scowled at the pretty gal.
“Sounds like fun.” Laughing, Cecil fell in beside the pair.
Gabe retraced his steps, his stride long and hurried. He glanced at the passengers in the first two wagons, his gaze hurrying
to his own wagon where Marnie waited—to hear what the discussion was. No other reason. Nor did he expect one.
Bertie swung one leg over the endgate. “I walk.” His foot dangled above the tufts of grass.
Gabe reached out to assist Bertie to the ground.
“Thanks, Mr. Gabe.” Bertie’s smile filled his face and eyes as it clearly also filled his heart. The young man showed every
evidence of being happy.
Gabe lowered the endgate so Alice could jump down. Limpy was about to join them, but Bertie stopped him.
“You stay with Fluff and Smoke.”
Odd names for cats but maybe no stranger than calling a cow Stella which is what Ma named her milk cow.
Grinning, Gabe turned to his wagon where Marnie sat watching his interaction with her son. He’d expected gratitude.
Instead, her eyes were hard. His steps slowed, and he glanced back. What had he done to annoy her? Unable to think of
anything, he patted Zeb’s head as he reconsidered his plan to enjoy riding beside Marnie again. With Cecil and Walt going in
front, he’d have to guide the oxen, leaving her to ride alone. Unless…
Ahead Walt shouted, “Let’s move.”
Irene’s laughter rang out. The wheels creaked. Overhead, a hawk soared.
“I’ll have to walk beside the oxen.” Gabe retrieved the goad from under the bench and hesitated. Not long enough to be
obvious about hoping she’d say she’d walk beside him, but long enough to give her the opportunity to do so.
Marnie pushed to her feet. “I’ll get down.”
She accepted the hand he offered to assist her, her palm warm and small inside his. Her feet reached the ground. “Thank
you.”
She stepped back to brush her skirt into place. The gentle breeze, full of the scent of pine and oxen, ruffled a strand of hair
that had escaped the knot at her nape. The look she gave him was full of caution. “Are we ready to go?”
He adjusted his hat. “I’m ready.” The oxen leaned into their task, and the wagon rolled down the grass-covered trail. “This
is the route used by the Boundary Commission a few years back as they marked out the boundary between Canada and
America.” He had done some preparation for this journey, not knowing Marnie would hire a guide. Carson’s letter had stated
he’d provided a simple map based on his travels. He’d been clear about his worries it might prove difficult for his mother to
follow.
“I didn’t know that.”
“Yup.” Nice to have something to offer.
The afternoon warmth, the drone of hovering insects, and the monotony of plodding onward numbed his brain. Soon he
thought of nothing but putting one foot in front of the other and guiding the oxen.
The thud of hoofbeats jerked him from his inertia as Irene rode toward them. “Ma, Ma. You gotta see this.”
The wagons stopped as if given a signal from the front.
“Come on.” She dropped to the ground and grabbed Marnie’s hand. “The rest of you come too.” She waved them to follow.
The oxen were happy to be left to rest while the travelers followed Irene through low bushes, past leafy poplars, and into a
clearing. They stood on a hill that rolled away before them like huge green rolls of bread.
 “It’s beautiful,” Marnie whispered. Every one of the girls echoed her comment.
Irene skidded down the hill and drew to a halt. “See the flowers.”
“I certainly do,” her mother called.
Gabe’s gaze had been on the distance, his mind on the challenge of crossing those hills. But now he brought his attention
closer to the slope awash in pink and blue and yellow.
The sapphire of the sky, the emerald of the hills, and the jewel tones of the flowers filled his heart with amazement. He
could think of only one way to express his feelings and, taking off his hat, began to sing, “‘Fairest Lord Jesus, Ruler of all
nature, O Thou of God and man the Son, Thee will I cherish, Thee will I honor, Thou, my soul’s glory, joy and crown.’”
Before he’d sung three words, his sons joined their voices to his. As Marnie and the girls sang along, Irene raced up the
hill to stand by her mother and add her voice. Bertie didn’t know the words, but he knew the tune and hummed along in a voice
surprisingly deep.
They finished and were silent. With holy awe.
“That’s better’n church singing,” Irene said.
“It was beautiful.” Marnie’s words seemed a little damp. She touched Gabe’s elbow. “Thank you.”
Before Gabe could feel any more awkward, Joe rode toward them. “We move on to a spot for camping tonight.” He reined
away, paused to touch Petey’s head before he returned to the simple road.
The grass rustled, and branches sighed as the others followed. Marnie hadn’t moved, and Gabe stayed at her side, waiting
and wondering at the way she twined her fingers together until the tips reddened.
 C HAPTER 5

T his decision to leave all that was safe and familiar had been difficult for Marnie even though she believed it was the
best thing to do.
“Is something wrong?”
As Gabe’s gentle voice broke into her thoughts, she drank in the scene before her. How could she best explain so many
feelings? “This place is beautiful. It’s as if God has prepared a blessing, or perhaps a promise, for our journey.”
Gabe nodded, but his brow remained crinkled.
“I’m leaving behind everything I’ve known. My home, my friends. Well, not my family.” Her laugh was half amusement,
half embarrassment. “I should have mentioned them first. Trust me, they are never an afterthought. I am grateful to have them
with me.”
A hawk flew high overhead. Its piercing scream floated down to them. She shaded her eyes to watch the bird.
“I think going West to join Carson is a wise thing to do. I can begin life again as a woman without a man.” She’d grown
weary of people bringing forward men she might consider as a husband. “Bertie can stop looking for his pa. But it hasn’t been
easy. So many decisions. So many goodbyes. Bertie getting upset. But each step of the way, God has provided. The sale of our
farm and possessions went well. Then the girls decided they were coming too which meant one less loved one I had to say
goodbye to.” Even the way Bertie had allowed Gabe into his small world, but she wouldn’t mention that at the risk of making
him uncomfortable at knowing she watched. “And Joe. I believe he’s a godsend.”
Gabe waited as if expecting more. Perhaps wondering why she chose to tell him all this at this moment, in this spot. Could
she make him understand? Because, for some reason, it was important that he did.
“Now to see this.” She waved to indicate the rolling hills, the patchwork of flowers…everything that lay before them like a
huge canvas. “It reminds me of a verse I learned as a child. Isaiah 58:11: ‘The Lord will guide you always; He will satisfy
your needs in a sun-scorched land and will strengthen your frame. You will be like a well-watered garden, like a spring whose
waters never fail.’” Her throat tightened with an emotion so strong she ached breathing past it.
“I know He is guiding us even as He guided the children of Israel as they fled Egypt but to see the evidence of His promise
in such a way…” She couldn’t finish. Couldn’t look at him.
Forcing the words from her constricted throat, she added, “Then God added one more thing—that beautiful hymn. Thank
you for the reminder of God’s goodness.” She brushed her hand over his forearm, then hurried through the trees.
“Wait. Marnie, wait.” Something in his voice made her stop, though she couldn’t say what she thought she heard. Or what it
meant.
He caught up to her and stopped, looking down on her, his dark eyes like glowing coals.
She blinked at her odd assessment.
“Marnie, God has led me on this journey too.”
“How so?”
“Ma!” A chorus of voices came through the trees.
“Pa,” Cecil called.
“We’re coming,” Gabe called. “I’ll tell you about it sometime if you’re interested.”
“I am.” It was something to look forward to on the long days ahead.
Ruby walked beside her wagon, leaving Angela to drive the oxen, and Marnie fell in at her daughter’s side. She wasn’t
surprised when Bertie walked beside Gabe, his goat prancing at his side.
“What took you so long, Mama?” Ruby asked.
“I wanted to admire the scenery a moment longer.” She told how she’d felt like it was a blessing and a promise from God.
Ruby gave Marnie a one-armed hug. “I know it’s harder for you than me. I think the whole thing is a wonderful adventure.
And at the end, we see Carson.” She slid her arm from Marnie’s back and lowered her voice. “I can’t wait to see all those
Mounties.” The sigh said even more than Ruby’s words.
Marnie chuckled. “Don’t be falling in love with something in your imagination.”
“Nope. But there must be some good Mounties hoping and praying for someone to share their adventures.”
Marnie held her peace. No point in worrying and warning about something months down the road. Ruby might have had her
fill of adventure by the time they reached their destination.
They trundled on the track through the grass, pointing out to each other and to Angela the different birds they saw or heard,
the little red flowers beside the trail, and the funny-shaped clouds.
Joe rode back. “Ma’am, I’ve picked out a spot where we can camp for the night.”
“Wonderful.” Weary and hot, she could hardly wait.
They drove off the trail into a clearing. A narrow stream rushed by, and downed limbs provided plenty of wood for a fire.
A good cup of tea would do wonders. But first, they had to set up camp.
At Joe’s instruction, they parked the wagons to form a corner.
Gabe stopped his wagon a distance away.
“Ma, that ain’t right,” Irene said.
Marnie would have liked to keep Gabe and his boys away. For Bertie’s sake. Her heart thudded in her throat, and she had
to amend her reason. No, it was for her sake. They had weeks or months to travel together. The last thing she wanted was to
grow too used to Gabe’s company and the pleasure of adult conversation. Sure, for the most part, her girls were grown up, but
it was different. Nevertheless, she couldn’t be petty and stick to her decree that the Millers stay away from her camp.
“I agree.” She waved to Gabe. “Bring your outfit over here.”
He hesitated as if wondering if she meant it. Then he drove close enough to form a three-sided shelter.
The oxen were unyoked and taken to water, then hobbled to graze while Marnie, Angela, and Louise gathered wood and
started a fire. Hazel had her hands full tending Petey.
Before long, the kettle hung on the tripod, full of water for the tea. The girls set up two tents for the ladies to share. Marnie
hoped Bertie would sleep under the wagon with his pets. As to the Millers and Joe, she’d let them worry about where they’d
sleep.
Hazel put a log by one of the wagons. “Ma, sit down and rest. You can amuse Petey while I help with supper.”
Marnie readily agreed. Not that she’d let anyone know how tired she was nor how her feet hurt.
The girls decided to keep the food provided by their friends for the noon break tomorrow and set about preparing a hot
meal. Soon the aroma of stewed meat scented the evening.
When Angela brought a cup of aromatic tea, Marnie dipped her head over the steam rising from the cup. “Oh, thank you. I
needed that.”
“Here’s a biscuit for Petey to hold him over until the food is cooked.”
“Where’s Bertie?” He’d helped gather wood, but Marnie hadn’t seen him since.
“He’s following Gabe. Have a look?”
Marnie leaned forward enough to see them and laughed. Gabe had slowed his pace so Bertie kept up. They seemed to be in
conversation. Alice followed Bertie. Limpy followed Alice. “Where are the cats?”
“Sunning by the water.” Angela returned to meal preparation.
Petey poked at the end of the log with one hand and held the biscuit in the other.
Marnie sat back, content that all was right for the moment. Her cup of tea was drained, and her spirits refreshed when
Louise called, “Come and get it.”
She didn’t need to call twice. Gabe and his boys strode to the campfire, Bertie trailing them.
A knot between Marnie’s shoulders released as she realized Bertie wasn’t hiding from the Millers.
“Joe?” Hazel looked around for the missing man.
Walt nodded to where, closer to the stream, Joe arranged wood. “Seems he prefers his own company.”
“Or maybe he thinks we don’t want his. Ma?” Hazel waited for Marnie’s response.
Marnie’s only reason for ever being grateful that Joe kept his distance was to protect Bertie. But they couldn’t spend
months avoiding each other. Besides, Bertie seemed to be accepting all these men.
She nodded to Hazel.
Hazel marched over to the scout. “Please join us.”
Marnie was too far away to see Joe’s expression, but she saw the way the man straightened, looked left and right, and then
gave a nod. But he didn’t move. Neither did Hazel. Marnie managed to contain her smile. Her eldest daughter was sweet and
compliant but stubborn too. And she liked to see everyone included.
Joe must have realized she didn’t intend to leave until he joined them and took a tentative step and then another, Hazel
keeping pace until they reached the others.
Gabe gave thanks for the food. Then they filled their plates with a rich stew and freshly baked biscuits. Angela had baked a
rhubarb pie yesterday, so they had that for dessert.
 The sun dipped to the western horizon sending long shadows across the grass, yet they lingered around the fire, drinking
two pots of tea and discussing the day’s travel.
“It was easier than I expected it to be.” Angela’s comment brought a murmur of agreement.
Joe pushed to his feet. “Don’t expect it to be easy all the way.” He handed Hazel his cup. “Thank you for the meal. Best we
all rest. I’ll take the first watch. Mr. Miller, you can relieve me in two hours.” His feet whispered through the grass as he
strode to the edge of the water, looked right and left, then circled the clearing.
His words had served to sober the group, and they hurried to their beds. Bertie spread his blankets under Ruby’s wagon,
close to the tent Marnie would share with Ruby and Angela. Just as they had planned and had discussed endlessly. His pets
snuggled in beside him.
In the tent, Marnie and her daughters prepared for bed and crowded close in their bedrolls.
“Aunt Marnie?” Angela whispered. “Joe kind of frightened me with his warning.”
“We’re ready for challenges and adventure.” Ruby’s low voice carried conviction. “Isn’t that right, Ma?”
“Of course.” There would be challenges along the way. And Marnie was ready to confront them. She’d raised her girls to
take on challenges as well. Not that she had any other choice since she’d set her face to the west.

J OE’ S TOE nudged Gabe awake. “Your watch.”

Gabe began pulling on his boots.
“Get one of your sons to relieve you in two hours.” Joe slipped away as soundless as a moonbeam.
Careful not to waken the others, Gabe picked up his rifle and eased from the campsite. He returned to the trail, listened, and
hearing nothing, circled the wagons. Then he went to check on the oxen. Everything was quiet, and he settled on a rock where
he could watch the area.
The thud of a step had him on his feet, holding his rifle. He relaxed when he recognized Bertie’s gait.
“Why are you up?” he asked when the man was close enough to hear.
“It not time to get up?”
“No, Bertie, it’s the middle of the night. Go back to bed.”
Instead, Bertie sat beside Gabe, his legs crossed. “Papa liked birds. Is he out there listening to them?”
Goodness. How was he supposed to answer that? “Did he teach you to listen to the birds and know what they were?”
“Yup, he did.”
“What do you hear now?”
A gentle hoot came from the trees.
Bertie turned from side to side. “I hear owl. Maybe.”
There came a croaking sound.
“That not a bird.” Bertie shook his head, the emphatic gesture flopping a thatch of dark-blond hair over his forehead.
“It could be a heron. They make a harsh sound.”
“Birds ’posed to be pretty sounding.”
“Some are. Some aren’t. Like a crow.”
“Crow sound bad.” He cawed.
“Shh. The others are asleep.”
Petey cried, and Hazel’s calming voice settled him.
“I be quiet.” For the space of five seconds, he didn’t speak. “Limpy not like crows.” He rested his hand on the dog’s head.
“Your dog has only three legs.”
“That why I call him Limpy.” The dog stirred at the mention of his name. Bertie patted him.
“It’s a good name. What happened to him?”
“He born that way. Mama says sometimes bad things happen and sometimes you just be born that way. But God loves you
just as much as anybody else.”
Marnie must’ve spoken those words to comfort her son. “Your mama is a wise woman.”
Bertie nodded. “I know.” He studied Gabe, tipping his head from side to side. “I think you almost as smart as my papa.”
Gabe coughed to dispel the emotion rushing up his throat. “Thank you. That’s high praise.”
“I know.”
“You should go back to bed.”
Bertie scrambled to his feet, the dog and cats springing awake. “I go now.” Then, as if realizing how loudly he’d spoken, he
put his finger to his mouth. “I be quiet so I don’t wake up Mama.”
The big man tiptoed across the dewy grass and crawled under the wagon, his pets following him. Alice, who hadn’t left her
comfortable bed, bleated.
 “You be quiet,” Bertie whispered.
Everyone in camp must be hearing Bertie and his pets, but no one stirred. Smiling, Gabe pushed to his feet and circled the
clearing again. His route completed, he stopped by the wagons to listen. Hearing nothing but gentle snores, probably from
Bertie, he returned to his perch on the rock.
The owl called again, and Gabe yawned his silent response. A little later, he decided it must be time for Walt to take his
turn as watchman. His son had stretched some canvas against the wagon as protection should it rain. Gabe nudged him awake,
then returned to his bedroll. He worked his boots off, crawled between his covers, and put his hat over his face.
He should have fallen asleep right away, but something nagged at his thoughts. Something Marnie had said about her
reasons for making this journey. So she could manage as a single woman. He rolled the sentence round and round in his
thoughts, trying to understand her meaning. Was she having trouble managing on her own?
Surely, someone would be willing to marry her even with two daughters still at home and Bertie as part of the package.
After all, she was a fine-looking woman with a depth that drew one to her. Was she going West in the hopes of finding a
husband?
Now why should that idea bother him? Or even concern him? He meant to see them to Fort Taylor and then cross the
Rockies into British Columbia. He hoped to find a permanent position on a big ranch in the interior of that province. Perhaps
he’d even buy a few acres and start his own ranch.
Smiling, he fell asleep thinking of his future and the fulfillment of a dream he’d held since before he and Ellen had married.
 C HAPTER 6

T he sun hadn’t reached the horizon when Joe’s call to get moving wakened Marnie.
Ruby groaned. “It’s too early to get up.”
Joe might have heard her for he added. “We’ve got a long way to go.”
“What happened to this being an adventure?” Angela teased as she wormed her way into her dress and crawled from the
tent.
“It still is, but it could be so after we sleep.” Ruby was dressed and out of the tent in record time.
Although tempted to stay abed, Marnie had to set an example, so she dressed, paused to brush her hair, and tie it back.
Never mind putting it up. She’d wear a bonnet anyway, and this was faster. With deft movements, her head rubbing against the
overhead canvas, she rolled the bedding up, backed from the tent, and carried the bedrolls to the wagon. Bertie’s bedding was
stowed away. Rolled neatly.
Louise had a fire going and a coffeepot hanging over the flames. The anticipation of a cup of the morning brew lifted
Marnie’s spirits. As did the pink sky signaling the soon-to-come sunrise. For the first time since she’d decided to start this trek,
she looked forward to another day of travel. Perhaps Ruby’s attitude was contagious for Marnie lifted her hands into the air as
if to embrace the morning and chuckled.
Aware of Angela’s gaze on her, Marnie lowered her arms. But her smile remained. The men were bringing in the oxen.
Bertie followed on Gabe’s heels. Marnie had heard him in the night and was about to crawl from her tent to check on him
before Gabe talked to him. She’d lain awake, waiting to see if she needed to get up. She couldn’t make out what they said, but
whatever it was, Bertie had settled again.
Without her having to deal with him.
Was she happy because Gabe seemed to have a way with her son that calmed Bertie’s fears? Perhaps because he’d been a
friend of Norman’s. Or perhaps Bertie was attaching himself to another man.
Marnie scrubbed her lips together. If it was the latter, Bertie would undergo another loss when they reached the fort. But
Carson would be there. What did Gabe and his sons plan to do after this journey? She’d assumed they’d turn around and return.
Perhaps by train. But having never asked, she couldn’t say for sure. It was something to add to her list of things to talk about as
they journeyed.
The first day of travel had been far more pleasant than she’d anticipated. Of course, there would be difficult, challenging
times ahead. But apart from crossing the river yesterday, it had been like a Sunday afternoon spent with friends. Friends? She’d
have to allow that Gabe was such.
The aroma of coffee brought her attention to the day. The smell must have reached the others for the men jogged over to
accept the steaming cups Angela offered them. Louise turned the pork she fried before she took a cup.
The girls had prepared a bountiful breakfast of fried pork and griddle cakes served with jam and eggs. Too bad they’d
decided bringing the hens was not a good idea. How were they to provide them with food and water? Plus, Bertie would have
been upset at having them caged and their enclosures hanging from the wagon. Besides, someone could ride into a nearby town
and purchase some. Though the further west they went, the more scattered the towns would be.
After Gabe offered a prayer for the food and safety for the day’s travel, they hunkered around the campfire, grateful for its
warmth.
“We won’t make as many miles today.” Joe paused from eating to make sure he had everyone’s attention. “Or you might say
we’ll travel more miles, but they’ll be mostly up and down.” A pause. “Up and down, up and down.” He didn’t smile. In fact,
his expression didn’t change but humor glinted in his dark eyes. Was Marnie the only one to notice it?
Gabe met her gaze and gave a tiny nod. So he’d noticed Joe’s amusement too.
Metal scraped against metal while they ate.
His plate clean, Walt rose. “Let’s get the oxen hitched up.”
 His words hurried the others into action. Tin plates rattled as they were stacked. Water sloshed out of the washbasin when
Louise started scrubbing dishes. Ruby dowsed the fire while Marnie held Petey, helping him finish his meal. Everyone had a
job and tended to it.
How pleasant to watch the work flowing.
They moved out before the first wink of the sun over the horizon. Marnie headed to Hazel and Louise’s wagon. “I’ll watch
Petey,” she said to Hazel. “You can walk a bit. I’ll entertain him.” She’d helped the girls adjust the wagon’s contents to leave a
space big enough for her to sit and Petey to play.
Hazel hesitated long enough to blink her eyes. “Thank you. I admit my bottom is tired of bouncing on that hard seat.”
They traveled only a short time before Joe called a halt.
Marnie edged forward to see the problem and gasped. Before them, a steep decline gave way to a narrow valley. Bushes
grew up and down the slopes. Larger trees held out leaf-laden branches on the valley floor, a sight she might have considered
welcoming except—she gulped. How were they to navigate these hills? Perhaps there hadn’t been any amusement in Joe’s eyes
at breakfast.
The others had come forward to look at what lay ahead.
Irene sat on her gelding, studying the layout. Walt rode his bay horse with its black socks along the hilltop as if analyzing
the options. Gabe looked at Marnie. Something silent and promising passed between them. A vow to see their families safely
across this scenery.
“It’s steep and rocky.” Joe hooked his thumbs in the belt holding a knife over his buckskin breeches. The fringes of his
leather vest dangled.
That man better be as good a guide as Mr. Dunn had said.
“We’ll cut a good-sized branch and put it between the spokes to slow the wagons. I’ll guide one wagon down at a time.”
He pointed. “There is a trail.”
Only by squinting could Marnie make out any suggestion of a trail angling down the slope. “Won’t the wagons tip over?”
Despite her plan to sound brave, her voice quivered.
“Could happen, but I mean to make sure it doesn’t.”
“I’m walking.” She scrambled down and reached up to take the baby. “I’ll carry him.”
“No, Ma.” Hazel tucked Petey back into the wagon, then began rummaging around in a box. “You’ll need your hands free.
I’ll strap him to my back.” She pulled out a length of fabric and began to do so.
Marnie closed her eyes to block images of her daughter and grandson taking a tumble.
“They’ll be fine.” Gabe’s gentle words whispered through her mind. But they didn’t erase her fears. Only one thing would,
and that was being safely down. She wouldn’t think about the climb up the other side and prayed no one would ask Joe how
many of these hills lay ahead.
Walt and Cecil carried a branch and blocked the first wagon’s wheels.
Bertie gathered his pets and hovered as close to Marnie as he could and as far from the wagons as that allowed.
Perhaps seeing his anxiety, Gabe removed his hat. “I’d like to pray for safety.” No one objected, nor did Marnie expect
they would. Not if they’d noticed, that broken wagon wheel half buried in dirt on the valley floor. Indeed, others had come this
way in the past, and not every wagon had descended successfully. There but for the grace of God… She bowed her head and
let Gabe’s words of seeking God’s help comfort her.
“Amen.” He put his hat back on his head as did the other men.
“Do you want me to drive your wagon?” Cecil asked Louise.
She gripped the leads and shook her head. Her lips set in a tight line. She looked neither to the right nor to the left. “I can
do this.” The words passed gritted teeth.
“Suit yourself.” He reined away.
Marnie opened her mouth to say something to ease the strain, but only a rush of air came out. All her attention was on the
wagon as Joe signaled Louise to drive forward. The oxen groaned beneath the strain of pulling a wagon with the wheels locked
up, but once the wagon headed downhill, they moved at a good clip. The wagon tipped on the slope, the upper wheels leaving
the ground.
How was it not falling over? But Joe guided the oxen to a different angle, and it righted.
They reached the bottom. Marnie’s breath whooshed out. Walt rode down to help Joe remove the tree branch, and the first
wagon trundled away to make room for the next.
Gabe and Cecil put the branch through the wheels of the second wagon, and then Cecil jumped to the seat. “Ladies, I’m
driving this down. You can walk. And I don’t intend to argue about it.”
“I didn’t expect to hear that tone from him.” Marnie whispered to Gabe.
Gabe chuckled. “He can be demanding when he wants.”
The girls clambered down and stood by Marnie as Cecil took control.
The wheels skidded across the ground taking clumps of grass with it. The wagon jolted as it began its descent. Why was
she noticing so many more details with this wagon? Well, because none of her daughters was in it.
Perhaps a different matter for Gabe. His curled fists jabbed into his hips, and his eyes narrowed as the wagon rushed
downward. When they reached the bottom, he released a gusty breath.
She patted his arm. “He’s safe.”
“Thank God.”
She wasn’t about to argue.
Walt helped Gabe put the branch in the wheels of the last wagon, and Gabe guided the oxen over the edge.
One wheel hit a rock and bounced. The back of the wagon flew upward.
Gabe, get out of the way! But Gabe goaded the oxen to walk on, and the wagon landed again on all fours with a thud that
shook Marnie’s bones. By the time the wagon reached the bottom, her head spun from how she’d held her breath.
Wait. Why was he climbing the hill? What had he forgotten? But she saw nothing.
“Okay, ladies, let’s get down.” He sat beside Bertie. “Are you ready to go?”
He’d come to help them. A lump clogged her chest.
“It’s scary,” Bertie whimpered.
“I’ll show you what to do. See we don’t actually walk. We stay sitting and move just a little at a time. You’ll have to let go
of Limpy and Alice though. They know what to do.”
Bertie looked to Marnie. “Mama?”
“Mr. Gabe is right. You’ll only hinder them by hanging on to them.”
Bertie hugged Alice. “We go down.” He squeezed Limpy. “You go too.”
The cats sat preening themselves in the sunshine.
“You come.” His chest expanded as he drew in a breath. “Mama, I go when you go.”
“Of course.” It wouldn’t be graceful but necessary, and she sat beside him, her skirts drawn around her legs. But she waited
until the girls started down and she had some assurance Hazel could manage. “I’m ready.” She kept a slow pace as she and
Gabe escorted Bertie downhill.
Walt rode his horse along the trail the wagons had taken, leading Cecil’s. The cats stayed where they were until Bertie
reached the bottom and called them.
Marnie looked upward in silent prayer of gratitude for God’s safe guidance.
The wagons trundled across the narrow valley and came to rest at the foot of an equally steep hill. How would they ever
reach the top? Why had she thought this journey was a good idea?

GABE KNEW what they had to do even before Joe spoke.

“We’ll hitch all the oxen to one wagon.”
Someone gasped, but Gabe didn’t turn to see who it was. It would take the rest of the morning, and the oxen would be
needing a break before all three wagons reached the top. He didn’t ask Joe if there was a good place up ahead to stop. The man
seemed to know the trail. Certainly, better than any of the others including Gabe. But how were Bertie and the ladies faring?
This hadn’t been an easy morning.
Hazel, especially, had a difficult task. He’d offer to carry the baby up the hill, but she’d probably refuse. At the moment,
she was giving Petey a snack.
Marnie, sitting with the ladies, reached over and took Angela’s hand. Whatever she said made all the girls smile.
Gabe refocused on getting the oxen into place. Sid and Sal bellowed and refused to back up to Fred and Pat. They tossed
their heads and balked.
Bertie, seeing their nervousness, trotted over, and whispered in Sid’s ear and then Sal’s. He stepped back but stayed close
to the animals. “They go now.”
The pair of oxen dipped their heads and cooperated.
Had Marnie noticed how Bertie handled the oxen? From her satisfied nod, she must’ve.
By the time Sal and Sid were in place, Cecil had brought Zeb and Pike. Again, Bertie whispered them into place.
“We’re ready.” Gabe waved toward the women. “Anyone want a ride?”
“No thanks,” they chorused.
He grinned back. “Why am I not surprised?”
Irene, aboard her horse, started up the slope, hooting and leaning forward.
Walt called after her. “Don’t expect me to come to your rescue when you’re tossed.”
Laughter was her only answer.
Cecil and Walt rode at the head of the oxen while Joe rode ahead, guiding them along the best route.
Gabe remained behind to make sure someone was with the women.
Another random document with
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The Project Gutenberg eBook of Sandi
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Title: Sandi
Kertomuksia Joelta

Author: Edgar Wallace

Translator: Erkki Valkeala

Release date: December 11, 2023 [eBook #72377]

Language: Finnish

Original publication: Jyväskylä: K. J. Gummerus Oy, 1923

Credits: Sirkku-Liisa Häyhä-Karmakainen and Tapio Riikonen

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SANDI ***

SANDI

Kertomuksia Joelta

Kirj.

EDGAR WALLACE

Suomentanut (»Sanders of the River»)

Erkki Valkeala

Jyväskylässä, K. J. Gummerus Osakeyhtiö, 1923.

SISÄLLYS:

Kuninkaan kasvatus
Kivenpitäjät
Monrovian Bosambo
Unelias mies
Erityiskirjeenvaihtaja
Tanssikivet
Kauniiden unien metsä
Akasavalaiset
Paholaismetsä
Mlinon rakkaus
Poppamies
Yksinäinen
Näkijä
Sodan koirat
KUNINKAAN KASVATUS

Komissaari Sanders oli niin huokeasti siirtynyt läntiseen Keski-

Afrikkaan, ettei hän oikein osannut sanoa, milloin hän oli tullut
takamaihin. Jo paljon ennen kuin Britannian hallitus oli määrännyt
hänet pitämään isällistä huolta noin neljännesmiljoonasta
ihmissyöjästä, jotka kymmenen vuotta aikaisemmin olivat
suhtautuneet valkoisiin miehiin niinkuin me suhtaudumme
sarvikuonoon, hän oli tavannut basutot, tsulut, ringot, pondot,
matabele-, masona-, barotse- ja betsuana-kansat ynnä hottentotit.
Sitten uteliaisuus ja viehätys veti häntä pohjoiseen ja länteen päin, ja
hän tapasi angolakansan, vielä pohjoisempana Kongon väen,
lännessä masai-kansan ja saapui lopuksi kääpiöheimojen kautta
alueelleen.

Kaikkien näiden heimojen eroavuudet ovat vain Sandersin

kaltaisten miesten tiedossa.

Väri ei merkitse paljoakaan, vaikkakin toiset ovat ruskeita ja toiset

keltaisia ja muutamat — vaikka harvat — sysimustia. Eroavuus on
luonteessa. Tsulut olivat miehiä ja basutot olivat miehiä, vaikka
heidän vakava luottamuksensa oli lapsellista. Fetsiä päässään
pitävät mustat miehet olivat ovelia, mutta luotettavia, kun taas
Kultarannikon ruskeahkot miehet, jotka puhuivat englantia ja
sanoivat toisiaan »herroiksi», olivat Sandersin kauhistus.

Elettyään niin kauan suurten lapsien keskuudessa hän oli tietenkin

tullut jonkin verran samanlaiseksi kuin he, lapselliseksi. Kerran
Lontoossa hänelle tehtiin kepponen, ja vain hänen luontainen
suorasukaisuutensa pelasti hänet naurettavasta pälkähästä. Kun
näet kultaaja näytti hänelle raskasta metalliharkkoa, hän vei tämän
suoraa päätä poliisiasemalle ja syytti miestä luvattomasta
kultakaupasta. Sanders tiesi, että harkko oli kultaa, mutta hän ei ollut
varma, oliko se saatu rehellisin keinoin. Hänen hämmästyksensä,
kun hän huomasi »kullan» olevan lehtikultaa, oli liikuttava.

Sandersista voidaan sanoa, että hän oli valtiomies, mikä merkitsee

sitä, että hänen mielessään ei ihmishengellä ollut vakiintunutta
arvoa. Kun hän näki sivistyksen puussa kuihtuneen lehvän tai näki
ohdakkeen kasvavan »kukkiensa» joukossa, hän poimi sen pois
pysähtymättä ajattelemaan, oliko sillä ehkä oikeus elää. Kun mies,
olipa hän päällikkö tai orja, oli esimerkillään saattanut maan rauhan
vaaraan, kävi Sanders käsiksi häneen. Vielä elävän sukupolven
aikana isisiläiset sanoivat häntä Ogani Isisiksi, joka merkitsee
»pientä teurastuslintua», ja totta puhuen Sanders olikin siihen aikaan
nopea hirttämään. Hän hallitsi kolmensadan mailin päässä
sivistyksen liepeiltä eläviä ihmisiä. Toiminnan arkuutta tai
rangaistuksen toimeenpanon lykkäämistä, jompaakumpaa näistä
kahdesta olisivat nuo ihmiset, joilla ei ollut voimaa tehdä
johtopäätöksiä, ei halua pyytää anteeksi eikä taipumusta erityiseen
armeliaisuuteen, luulleet heikkoudeksi.

Maassa, joka sijaitsee Togo-maan rajoilla, ymmärretään

rangaistuksella kipua tai kuolemaa, ei muuta.
 Kerran muuan hupsu komissaari nousi vastavirtaa Akasavaan —
joka on maan nimi — ja kokeili siveellisellä rangaistuksella.

Oli syntynyt kiihkeä jupakka. Muutamat Akasavan miehet olivat

käyneet joen yli Ochorin puolella varastamassa naisia ja vuohia, ja
luullakseni oli kaksi miestä tapettu, mutta se on toinen asia. Vuohet
ja naiset elivät ja huusivat äänekkäästi kostoa. He huusivat niin
kovaa, että se kuului päämajaan asti, ja komissaari Niceman — se ei
ollut hänen nimensä, mutta se kelpaa tähän — meni katsomaan,
mistä ääni aiheutui. Hän tapasi Ochorin kansan suuttuneena, mutta
vielä enemmän peloissaan.

— Jos, sanoi heidän puhujansa, — he haluavat palauttaa

vuohemme, niin pitäkööt naiset, sillä vuohet ovat arvokkaita.

Komissaari Nicemanilla oli sitten pitkä, pitkä palaver, neuvottelu,

joka kesti päivän toisensa jälkeen, Akasavan miesten ja heidän
päällikkönsä kanssa, ja lopuksi siveellinen saarna vaikutti: miehet
lupasivat tiettynä päivänä ja tietyllä tunnilla, kun kuu oli
neljänneksessä ja vuorovesi tarpeeksi korkealla, palauttaa naiset ja
myös vuohet.

Niin herra Niceman palasi päämajaan ihaillen itseään rajattomasti

ja kirjoittaen kyvyistään ja hallitustaidostaan sekä alkuasukkaiden
tuntemuksestaan pitkän raportin, joka on myöhemmin julkaistu
Sinisessä Kirjassa 7943-96 (Africa).

Tapahtui, että herra Niceman heti sen jälkeen meni kotiin

Englantiin, ja niinpä hän ei kuullut Ochorin väen vihaa ja kiukkua,
kun nämä eivät saaneet naisiaan eivätkä vuohiaan. Sanders, joka
kymmenellä hausasotilaalla ja malarianpuuskalla varustettuna
työskenteli Isisi-joen tienoilla, sai heliosanoman:
 »Menkää Akasavaan ja lopettakaa se kirottu naisjupakka. —
Hallitus.»

Sanders kokosi sälynsä, nautti 25 grainia kiniiniä ja jättäen kesken

hyvän työnsä — hän haeskeli Mbeliä, poppamiestä, joka oli
myrkyttänyt erään ystävän — meni maan poikki Akasavaan.

Aikanaan hän tuli kylään ja kohtasi päällikön.

— Miten on naisten laita? hän kysyi.

— Keskustelemme siitä, sanoi päällikkö. — Kutsun päämiehet ja

neuvonantajat.

— Älä kutsu ketään, sanoi Sanders lyhyesti. — Lähetä

varastamasi naiset ja vuohet takaisin Ochoriin.

— Herra, sanoi päällikkö, — täyden kuun aikana, tapamme

mukaan, kun vuorovesi on tarpeeksi korkealla ja kaikki merkit ja
paholaiset ovat suotuisia, täytän käskysi.

— Päällikkö, sanoi Sanders naputtaen toisen mustapuuarkkua

kävelykepillään, — kuu ja joki, paholaiset tai jumalat, nuo naiset ja
vuohet menevät takaisin Ochorin kansalle auringon laskiessa, tai
minä sidon sinut puuhun ja pieksän sinut verille.

— Herra, sanoi päällikkö, — naiset palautetaan.

— Ja vuohet, sanoi Sanders.

— Vuohet, sanoi päällikkö, — ovat kuolleet, tapettu pitoihin.

— Sinä herätät ne henkiin, sanoi Sanders.

 — Herra, luuletko minua taikuriksi? kysyi Akasavan päällikkö.

— Luulen sinua valehtelijaksi, sanoi Sanders puolueettomasti, ja

palaver oli päättynyt.

Samana yönä naiset ja vuohet palasivat Ochoriin, ja Sanders

valmistautui lähtöön.

Hän kutsui päällikön erilleen, koska ei tahtonut häväistä häntä ja

vähentää hänen valtaansa kansan keskuudessa.

— Päällikkö, sanoi hän, — matka Akasavaan on pitkä, ja minulla

on paljon työtä. Toivon, ettet sinä pakota minua enää saapumaan
tänne.

— Herra, sanoi päällikkö tosissaan, — en toivo enää näkeväni

sinua.

Sanders hymyili salaa, kokosi kymmenen hausaansa ja meni

takaisin
Isisi-joelle jatkamaan Mbelin etsimistä.

Monestakaan syystä se ei ollut hauskaa etsintää, ja oli myös syitä

luulla Isisin kuninkaan itsensä suojelevan murhaajaa. Tälle tiedolle
saapui vahvistus eräänä aamuna, kun Sanders Suurelle joelle
leiriytyneenä oli aamiaisella nauttien säilykemaitoa ja paahdettua
leipää. Saapui kiireesti Sato-Koto, kuninkaan veli, hyvin
järkyttyneenä, sillä hän oli paossa kuninkaan vihaa. Hän lateli julki
kaikki uutiset, jotka eivät liikuttaneet Sandersia vähääkään. Mutta se,
mitä hän kertoi kuninkaan luona oleskelevasta poppamiehestä, oli
todella mielenkiintoista, ja Sanders lähetti päämajaan viestin, ja kun
se oli sinne saapunut, päämajasta lähetettiin hra Niceman — joka oli
aikanaan palannut Lontoosta — moraalisella saarnalla taivuttamaan
Isisin kuningasta.

Kokoamistamme todisteista käy ilmi, että kuningas ei ollut

hellämielinen. On epäämätön totuus, että Nicemanin pää, pistettynä
seipääseen kuninkaan majan eteen, todisti kuninkaan ylevää
luonnetta.

Neljä sotalaivaa purjehti Simonstownista ja yksi Sierra Leonesta,

ja vajaassa kuukaudessa kuningas, joka oli tappanut vieraansa,
toivoi, ettei olisi sitä tehnyt.

Päämaja lähetti Sandersin selvittämään sotkun poliittista puolta.

Eräs meriupseeri näytti hänelle, mitä oli jäljellä kuninkaan kylästä.

— Luulen, sanoi tämä mies, — että teidän on kaivettava jostakin

uusi kuningas, olemme melkein tappaneet edellisen.

Sanders nyökkäsi.

— En aio pukeutua surupukuun, hän sanoi.

Ei ollut vaikeata löytää tarjokkaita avoimeen virkaan. Sato-Koto,

kuolleen kuninkaan veli, ilmoitti olevansa halukas ottamaan vastaan
viran melko nopeasti.

— Mitä te sanotte, kysyi laivastoa johtava amiraali.

— Sanon ei, vastasi Sanders arvelematta. — Kuninkaalla on

poika, yhdeksänvuotias, kuninkuus on hänen. Sato-Koto saa
toistaiseksi olla sijaishallitsija.
 Ja niin se asia oli järjestetty Sato-Koton nyreästi suostuessa. Uusi
kuningas löytyi metsästä naisten joukosta, ja hän yritti vastustella,
mutta Sanders talutti hänet korvasta kylään.

— Poikani, sanoi hän ystävällisesti, — miksi ihmiset sanovat

sinua?

— Peteriksi, herra, vikisi potkiva poika, — valkoisten miesten

tapaan.

— Hyvä, sanoi Sanders, — sinä olet nyt kuningas Peter. Hallitse

tätä maata viisaasti ja tarkoin tapojen ja lakien mukaan. Sinä et saa
tehdä pahaa kenellekään, et häväistä ketään, et saa tappaa, et
käydä sotaa etkä vahingoittaa mitään, joka tekee elämän elämisen
arvoiseksi, ja jos sinä rikot tätä vastaan, Herra sinua varjelkoon!

Siten tehtiin kuningas Peter itsevaltiaaksi Isisissä, ja Sanders meni

takaisin päämajaan pienen merisotilas- ja hausa-armeijansa kanssa,
sillä Mbeli, poppamies, oli tapettu kylää valloitettaessa, ja Sandersin
työ oli loppunut.

Isisin kylän valloittaminen ja nuoren kuninkaan kruunaaminen

kerrottiin Lontoon lehdissä, eikä siinä ollut mitään unohdettu.
Mukanaolleet erityiskirjeenvaihtajat olivat kuvanneet sen niin, että
monet iäkkäät naiset itkivät ja moni nuori nainen sanoi: »Kuinka
kaunista!» ja kuvausten synnyttämät moninaiset tunteet johtivat
siihen, että nti Clinton Calbraith, joka oli maisteri ja hyvin kaunis,
lähetettiin paikalle. Hän tuli orvon kuninkaan »äidiksi», holhoojaksi ja
ystäväksi. Hän maksoi itse matkansa, mutta kirjat ja koulutarvikkeet,
jotka täyttivät kaksi laatikkoa, oli ostettu erään lastenlehden
kustannuksella. Sanders tapasi hänet maihinnousupaikalla uteliaana
näkemään, miltä valkea nainen näyttää.
 Sanders antoi hänen käytettäväkseen majan ja lähetti erään
rannikkolaiskirjurin vaimon häntä kaitsemaan.

— Niin, nti Calbraith, sanoi Sanders sinä iltana ruokapöydässä, —

mitä te haluatte tehdä Peterille?

Neiti silitti kaunista poskeaan miettiväisesti.

— Alamme aivan yksinkertaisilla asioilla — oikealla lastentarhalla,

ja hiljalleen siitä ylöspäin. Opetan hänelle aakkosia, hieman
kasvioppia — hra Sanders, te nauratte.

— En, en nauranut, kiirehti Sanders rauhoittamaan häntä. —

Minun kasvoni aina näyttävät siltä — hm… illalla. Mutta sanokaa,
osaatteko te kieltä, suahelia, bomongoa, ringiä?

— Se käy vaikeaksi, sanoi neiti miettiväisesti.

— Saanko antaa neuvon? kysyi Sanders.

— Miksei.

— Niin, opetelkaa kieli. — Neiti Calbraith nyökkäsi. Menkää kotiin

ja opetelkaa sitä. — Neiti rypisti kulmiaan. — Se vie tieltä
suunnilleen kaksikymmentäviisi vuotta.

— Herra Sanders, sanoi hän ylhäisesti, — laskette leikkiä — teette

pilaa minusta.

— Taivas varjelkoon! sanoi Sanders tyynesti, — olisinko minä

todella niin sukkela.

Kertomuksen loppu, mikäli se koskee nti Clinton Calbraithia, oli se,

että hän meni Isisiin, oli siellä kolme päivää ja tuli takaisin
kauhuissaan.

— Hän ei ole lapsi, sanoi hän kauhistuneena, — hän on pieni…

pieni paholainen.

— Sitä minäkin, sanoi Sanders syvällisesti.

— Kuningas? Se on kamalaa! Hän asuu multamajassa ja kulkee

alastomana.
Jos olisin sen tiennyt!

— Luonnon lapsi, sanoi Sanders. — Ette luullut näkevänne

sellaista?

— En tiedä, mitä luulin, mutta en voinut olla kauempaa, se oli

mahdotonta.

— Siltä näyttää, sanoi Sanders itsekseen.

— Tietysti tiesin, että hän oli musta, jatkoi neiti, ja minä tiesin
sen… se oli aivan kauheaa.

— Tosi on, rakas neiti, sanoi Sanders, — että Peter ei ollut niin
ihana kuin te kuvittelitte, hän ei ollut jalo, kirkassilmäinen lapsi, hän
elää likaisesti — eikö niin?

Tämä ei ollut ainoa yritys kasvattaa Peteriä. Kuukausia

jälkeenpäin, kun neiti Calbraith oli mennyt kotiin ja oli toimeliaasti
kirjoittamassa kuuluisaa kirjaansa »Yksin Afrikassa, kirj.
Englantilaisnainen», Sanders kuuli toisesta kasvatusotteesta. Kaksi
etiopialaista lähetyssaarnaajaa oli tullut Isisiin takateitä. Etiopialaisen
lähetysseuran muodostavat kristityt mustat miehet, jotka
yksinkertaisesti perustaen uskontunnustuksensa Pyhään Sanaan
saarnaavat tasa-arvoisuuden evankeliumia. Musta mies on
arkipäivinä yhtä hyvä kuin valkoinenkin, mutta sunnuntaisin jopa
parempikin, jos hän kuuluu Reformeerattuun etiopialaiseen kirkkoon.

He tulivat Isisiin ja pääsivät heti kansan suosioon, sillä heidän

puheensa miellytti sangen suuresti Sato-Kotoa ja kuninkaan
neuvonantajia.

Sanders lähetti hakemaan lähetyssaarnaajia. Ensi kerralla he

kieltäytyivät tulemasta, mutta toisella kerralla he tulivat, sillä
Sandersin lähettämä sanoma oli lyhyt ja jyrkkä.

— Emme ymmärrä teidän menettelynne luonnetta, sanoi toinen.

— Se tuntuu olevan ristiriidassa toimittamamme asian vapauden
kanssa.

— Ymmärrätte minua paremmin, sanoi Sanders, joka tunsi

miehensä, — kun sanon teille, että en salli teidän saarnaavan
harhaoppeja kansani keskuudessa.

— Harhaoppeja, hra Sanders! sanoivat neekerit värisevin äänin.

— Se on vakava syytös.

Sanders otti paperin pöytänsä laatikosta; keskustelu tapahtui

hänen työhuoneessaan.

— Sinä ja sinä päivänä, hän sanoi, — te puhuitte tätä, tätä ja tätä.

Toisin sanoen hän syytti heitä tasa-arvoisuuden rajan ylittämisestä

ja siirtymisestä poliittisen kiihotuksen alueelle.

— Valheita, sanoi vanhempi kahdesta empimättä.

 — Totta tai valhetta, sanoi Sanders, — te ette enää mene Isisin
alueelle.

— Tahdotteko jättää pakanat pimeyteen? kysyi lähetyssaarnaaja.

— Onko kantamamme kynttilä liian valoisa?

— Ei, sanoi Sanders, — mutta hiukan liian kuuma.

Siten hän toimeenpani etiopialaisten siirron heidän tärkeimmän

työnsä näyttämöltä, mistä sitten tehtiin välikysymys Englannin
parlamentissa.

Sitten saapui Akasavan päällikkö — vanha ystävä kasvattamaan

kuningas Peteriä. Akasava rajoittuu tämän kuninkaan alueisiin, ja
päällikkö tuli antamaan hänelle opastusta sotilaallisissa asioissa.

Hän tuli rumpujen soidessa ja toi lahjoina banaaneja ja suolaa.

— Olet suuri kuningas! sanoi hän unisilmäiselle pojalle, joka istui

valtaistuimella katsellen häntä suu ihmetyksestä ammollaan.

— Kun sinä käyt, maa vapisee sinun jalkojesi alla, mahtava joki,
joka vyöryy alas suureen veteen, jakautuu sinun käskystäsi, metsän
puut vapisevat ja pedot hiipivät piiloon, kun sinun voimasi lähtee
rajojen ulkopuolelle.

— O, ko, ko! sanoi mairiteltu kuningas.

— Valkoiset miehet pelkäävät sinua, jatkoi Akasavan päällikkö. —

He värisevät ja kätkeytyvät sinun äänesi kuullessaan.

Sato-Koto, joka seisoi kuninkaan vieressä, oli käytännön mies.

— Mitä tahdot, päällikkö? kysyi hän keskeyttäen kohteliaisuudet.

 Silloin päällikkö kertoi hänelle pelkurien maasta, jossa oli maan
aarteita, vuohia ja naisia, paljon.

— Miksi et ota niitä itse? huomautti sijaishallitsija.

— Koska minä olen orja, sanoi päällikkö, — Sandin orja, ja hän

löisi minua. Mutta sinua, herra, joka olet suuri, kuninkaitten päämies,
Sandi ei voi lyödä sinun suuruutesi tähden.

Seurasi neuvottelu, joka kesti kaksi päivää.

— Minun on tehtävä jotakin Peterille, kirjoitti Sanders lähiaikoina

hallitukselle. — Se pikku pentele on lähtenyt sotapoluille onnetonta
Oclioria vastaan. Olisin hyvilläni, jos lähettäisitte minulle sata miestä,
konekiväärin ja kimpun rottinkia; luulen, että minun täytyy ruveta
kasvattamaan Peteriä itse.

*****

— Herra, enkö puhunut totta? sanoi Akasavan päällikkö

voitonriemuisesti. — Sandi ei ole tehnyt mitään. Me olemme
hävittäneet Ochorin kylän, ottaneet heidän kalleutensa, ja valkea
mies on mykkä sinun suuruutesi edessä! Odotetaan täysikuuta, ja
minä näytän sinulle toisen kylän.

— Olet suuri mies, sanoi kuningas, — ja jonakin päivänä rakennan

sinulle majan palatsini varjoon.

— Sinä päivänä, sanoi päällikkö ylevästi, — minä kuolen ilosta.

Kun kuu oli kutistunut ja kadonnut ja tullut takaisin hopealla

siveltynä möhkäleenä itäiselle taivaalle, kokoontuivat Isisin sotilaat
varustettuina keihäin ja leveäteräisin miekoin, ingola yllään ja multaa
hiuksissaan.

He tanssivat suuren tanssin valtavan tulen loimossa, ja kaikki

naiset seisoivat ympärillä taputtaen käsiään tahdissa.

Kesken tämän saapui sanantuoja kanootilla, tuli kuninkaan luo ja

sanoi:

— Herra, päivän matkan päässä täältä on Sandi; hänellä on

mukanaan sata sotilasta ja messinkitykki, joka sanoo:'Ha-ha-ha-ha!'

Hiljaisuus vallitsi joukossa, kunnes sen keskeytti Akasavan

päällikön ääni.

— Luulen, että minun on mentävä kotiin, sanoi hän. — Tuntuu

kuin olisin sairas, ja nyt on myös se aika vuodesta, jolloin minun
vuoheni saavat vohlia.

— Älä pelkää, sanoi Sato-Koto julmasti. — Kuninkaan varjo kätkee

sinut, ja hän on niin voimakas, että maa vapisee hänen jalkainsa
alla, mahtavat vedet jakautuvat hänen astuakseen, ja vieläpä valkeat
miehetkin pelkäävät häntä.

— Vaikkakin, epäsi päällikkö, — mutta minun täytyy mennä, sillä

minun nuorin poikani on sairastumaisillaan kuumeeseen, ja hän
kaipaa minua koko ajan.

— Jää, sanoi sijaishallitsija, eikä hänen äänestään voinut erehtyä.

Sanders ei tullut seuraavana päivänä, eikä vielä seuraavanakaan.

Hän liikkui vitkaan, kulkien maita myöten, joissa monet
väärinkäsitykset odottivat selvitystään. Kun hän saapui lähetettyään
sanantuojan edeltä käsin tulostaan ilmoittamaan, oli kylä rauhan
toimissa.

Naiset hienonsivat viljaa, miehet tupakoivat, pikkulapset leikkivät

ja pitivät ääntä kaduilla.

Hän pysähtyi kylän laitaan pääkatua hallitsevalle kukkulalle ja

lähetti hakemaan sijaishallitsijaa.

— Miksi minun täytyy haettaa sinut? hän kysyi. Miksi kuningas

pysyy kylässä, kun minä saavun? Tämä on häpeä.

— Herra, sanoi Sato-Koto, — eihän ole soveliasta, että suuri

kuningas alentuisi niin paljon.

Sanders ei ollut huvittunut eikä vihainen. Hän oli tekemisissä

kapinaa hautovien ihmisten kanssa, eivätkä hänen omat tunteensa
merkinneet mitään maan rauhan rinnalla.

— Näyttää siltä, kuin kuninkaalla olisi ollut huonoja neuvonantajia,

hän sanoi, ja Sato-Koto kumarsi vaivalloisesti.

— Mene ja käske kuningas tulemaan — sillä minä olen hänen

ystävänsä.

Sijaishallitsija meni, mutta palasi vähän ajan päästä yksin.

— Herra, hän ei tahdo tulla, sanoi hän härkäpäisesti.

— Sitten minä menen hänen luokseen.

Majansa edessä istuva kuningas Peter tervehti herra komissaaria

alasluoduin katsein.