Davonna leaned toward her son. "I abhor having to say it, but the culprit is our own employee, Mrs. Milburn."

"What?" The kettle slipped out of Caroline's hands and into the dishpan, splashing the front of her dress with dirtied water. "Me? How could you ever think I'd do such a thing?"

"This is preposterous!" Rhoda waved the towel. "Caroline has been nothing but kind and generous with you. How could you ever think she would take the locket?"

Mr. Kamden rested his hand on his mother's arm. "Did you see Mrs. Milburn take it?"

"No. But she was the last one in the wagon before it went missing."

"That doesn't mean she took it. She lives in the wagon."

"You think one of your own bairns is a thief?" Davonna jerked her arm away from him. "Why would they take something that wasn't theirs?"

"Indeed." Rhoda's arm fell, dragging the towel in the dirt. "And why would Caroline take it?"

Davonna tugged her shawl tight. "I've said enough already."

Finally, something they all could agree on.

Mr. Kamden met Caroline's gaze. "The hour is late, and we are all tired."

"So that's it?" Davonna planted her hands on her sides. "You don't care about what I say? About your faither's locket?"

"Not tonight, I don't." He sighed. "I'm sure the captain is ready to bed down as well. If the locket has not turned up by porridge time in the morning, we will go speak to him."

"Very well." Davonna squared her shoulders. "But I do not wish to sleep in the same wagon with her."

The feeling was mutual.

If Caroline weren't dripping wet, she would latch onto a candle lantern and start the long walk back to Jewell and Mary and Cora and Gilbert. Tears stung her eyes. She never should've left her own family.

16.

Yawning, Anna pulled the coffee grinder and pot from the box on the back of the wagon. Thanks to her friends' teasing ways during supper last night, she had dreamed of Caleb Reger in her sleep. She and the trail hand had been cheerful, giving the children rides on a cow, until Mutter called out to her from her hammock. A mishmash of her various journey experiences with Caleb.

So far Saturday morning hadn't chased the thoughts of him away as she held the pot under the spigot of the water barrel.

"Anna?" Mutter's voice drew her attention to the table where Mutter pulled a crust of bread from a sack. "Did you hear me?"

Shaking her head, Anna hung the pot from the hook over the fire Grovater had started. "I'm sorry. My mind ... I was thinking about something else." Someone else.

"I was asking about your grovater."

"He's gone to get the oxen."

"He was awfully slow getting out of bed this morning." Mutter scooped butter from the churn. "I was already up and dressing before he dropped his hammock into the back of the wagon."

Anna nodded. "Yes, and now that you mention it, he was moving pretty slowly, even at rolling his hammock."

"That's not like him. Since Vater agreed to join the caravan, he's had more energy than I've seen in him since ... well, you know." Mutter looked away.

Since Dedrick died. Why couldn't Mutter say it?

"Do you think he might be ill?" Mutter asked.

"He didn't say anything about it. Went after the oxen like he does every morning."

"You know your grovater. He wouldn't say if he was feeling punk."

Anna pulled three tin mugs from the wagon box. "I'll keep an eye on him."

Mutter began to slice dry sausage for their breakfast. "And I might talk to the doctor."

"Grovater wouldn't like that."

"Well, I wouldn't like it if he got sick and died on me."

Anna sighed. "Grovater is fine. You'll see." Still she couldn't help but watch for him to return to camp while she freed her hammock from the tree and rolled it.

The coffee seemed eager to boil this morning, sending out a rich aroma. Distracted by Mutter's concerns, Anna realized she may have ground extra into the pot.

Grovater appeared and dropped the lead rope at the tongue of the wagon, leaving the four oxen unattended. "I could smell our coffee two camps down. Works better than a dinner bell."

Anna poured him a cup and studied his face for any sign of illness.

"Danke." Grovater carried the cup to the table, the steam trailing him. He sank onto a chair and took a long gulp. "Tastes extra good this morning."

Mutter glanced at the oxen, not yet yoked to the wagon. "Vater?"

After another gulp of coffee, he peered up at her over the cup. "Wilma?"

"How are you feeling?"

"Like everyone else. With my fingers."

Giggling, Anna handed Mutter a cup of coffee. "Grovater seems fine to me."

Mutter huffed. "Just as annoying as always, that is for certain."

"And you're worrying for naught. You can't blame me for wanting a little coffee before I go back to work." He set his cup down and went to the tongue.

"Mornin', Otto." Boney strolled up with Caleb Reger at his side. "Anna. Mrs. Goben." Boney returned his attention to Grovater. "Me and Caleb were just fighting over who was going to get to yoke your oxen for a cup of that coffee and a hunk of Anna's spice bread." He looked at Caleb and raised a brow.

"Uh, yes, we were. And I say it should be me. After all, everyone knows Boney's a better cook than I am. He can make his own bread." He looked at Anna and smiled.

"Well, I am glad to see you," Mutter said, "and will happily give you both a portion and a hot cup if you'll do the rest of Vater's chores for him this morning."

"Sounds like a good deal to me, Otto. We get fed, and you get to watch us work."

"My daughter thinks I'm weak." Grovater shook his head. "When it's just that blamed bear kept me awake the other night, and the memory of its visit hasn't helped me get much sleep since."

"You and me both." Boney gave a low whistle and clapped Grovater on the shoulder. "Show me where to find a coffee mug."

Had Boney seen what Mutter was worried about? Was Grovater not feeling well and trying to hide it? Or was he just grateful for the company? Mutter was no doubt wondering the same things.

When Boney sat down to visit with Grovater, Anna poured a cup for Caleb.

He looked up at her. "So that's my prize?"

"Your prize?"

"The coffee."

Nodding, she smiled and held the cup out to him. "A sip or two might help with the work."

He took the cup, his gaze lingering. "Your smile is worth more than any cup of coffee."

Her cheeks warmed. She tried not to smile, but couldn't help it. "Thanks again for helping us with the hoop yesterday. Seems as long as we're around, you don't have to concern yourself with boredom."

"You are anything but boring, Miss Goben." A smile parted his lips.

She could say the same about him. "I best let you get this job done before the coffee cools."

Caleb returned the cup to her, then bent over the yoke and effortlessly lifted it into position.

Watching him yoke the oxen, Anna couldn't help but wonder if that was what she'd dream about tonight.

At least Davonna Kamden had chosen not to voice her accusation of thievery in front of her grandchildren.

Caroline stirred flour into the dough starter, but her mind and heart weren't in the work. Instead, her thoughts kept returning to the elder Mrs. Kamden's charge. She'd hardly slept a wink last night because of it. When Davonna had gone back into the wagon to gather a few things, Caroline had hoped she would find the missing locket. When that didn't happen, Rhoda had whispered her apologies to Caroline and taken her mother-in-law to the Conestoga for the night.

That had left Caroline to settle the children into their makeshift beds. Of no mind to do anything else, she'd tossed and turned atop her pallet on the lid of her trunk. All she could think about was Davonna Kamden and how much she wanted to get away from her. When she'd first met the elder Mrs. Kamden, the woman had taken an instant liking to her. It was Davonna's idea that her son employ Caroline on the road west to provide her with the means to join the caravan. They'd lived side by side for several days now. Caroline had given no reason to be distrusted. On the contrary, she'd accepted the woman's eccentricities and done all she could to aid her.

Certainly, she wasn't the only one who entertained concerns for the grandmother. Davonna's childish manner had puzzled her more than once. But for her to conclude that the locket had been stolen and Caroline was the culprit ... Would anyone in their right mind think such a thing?

Nonetheless, the moment the captain of the Boone's Lick Company returned from his early morning scouting trip with Rutherford Wainwright, he was sure to include her in an investigation of thievery.

During this extended midday break, Davonna sat on a quilt under a shade tree up the hill from the wagon. Ian and Rhoda Kamden had gone to the creek with all five of their children.

Caroline covered the bowl of dough starter and returned it to the new grub box Arvin Beck had made for the farm wagon. Rhoda had nearly insisted on staying behind to tend to the dough and peel potatoes, but Caroline needed to be alone. When she wasn't thinking about the events of last evening, her thoughts turned to the quilting circle in Saint Charles and to her sister and nieces and nephew. She missed the weekly drive out to Mrs. Brantenberg's farm with Jewell. She missed cooking meals alongside her sister.

She missed Elsa Brantenberg, Emilie, Johann Heinrich and the dry goods store. She missed sleeping on a soft bed. And, yes, she still missed Phillip. She liked having someone with whom she could share her life. And caring for someone else's gaggle of children and difficult mother-in-law wasn't at all what she had in mind.

"Miss Caroline!"

The voice had become familiar when she worked in Heinrich's Dry Goods and Grocery. Caroline turned toward the gangly young man with the fuzzy beard.

Oliver Rengler glanced at the bucket of potatoes she had yet to peel. "Oooweee. You want some help with those?"

"Yes. Thank you, Oliver." Perhaps having someone to talk to could rein in her thoughts. She pointed to a stool at the back of the wagon. "If you pull that up here, I'll put you to work."

"I'd like that, Miss Caroline." Oliver fairly ran to the stool then back to the table with it. "This is one of those days I seem to be nothin' but in Sally's way."

More often than not, Oliver's sister-in-law seemed put off by him. In Saint Charles, Oliver had spent a lot of time at the dry goods store. The close quarters of a wagon train weren't as accommodating.

"Sometimes, we women have a certain way of doing things-our way." Caroline smiled.

Oliver chuckled. "That's the truth, Miss Caroline."

"I'm happy for your help." As he settled onto the stool at the table, Caroline moved a second pot toward Oliver. "You can put the peeled spuds in this one."

He grabbed a knife and began to peel, taking a little too much potato in the process. "We can have a sport. See who can fill their pot first."

Caroline looked into her tin bowl. "I don't think that would be fair. I have a much smaller bowl."

"Life ain't fair, Miss Caroline. Owen's told me that time and time again."

She drew in a deep breath and let it out on a wistful sigh. "That may be true, Oliver, but I want to be fair."

"I like that about you, Miss Caroline." He started peeling his next potato. "You're nice to people, no matter what."

Caroline nearly choked on his unassuming compliment, which collided with a series of memories. Her judging Garrett Cowlishaw because he'd fought for the South. Her judging Davonna Kamden because the woman talked too much.

"Do you like working for that lady?" Oliver looked over at the dogwood tree and the woman who sat beneath it.

"Actually, I work for Mr. Kamden. I help take care of his children." And his mother.

Oliver dropped the remnant of another potato into his pot and looked up at her, his brown eyes widening. "Remember when I said I could be sweet on you if you wanted me to?"

"I remember."

"We were in the dry goods store."

Caroline carefully slid her knife around the spud, hoping Oliver would notice how little of its flesh she wasted.

"You said you weren't looking for a husband."

She remembered that too.

"You still feel that way?" he asked.