Shaking her head, Maren twisted away from the fire. She jerked her apron skirt to her mouth and began to retch.

When her friend's wave of sickness passed, Caroline carefully removed the soiled apron from Maren, set it on the ground under the wagon, and took over tending the bubbling skillet.

"How long have you not been feeling right?"

"Two or three days."

"Mostly in the mornings?"

Maren nodded.

Caroline looked her in the eye. "You could be expecting."

"Now?" Tears glistened in Maren's eyes.

"Does Rutherford know you haven't been feeling well?" Caroline could scarcely hear herself for all the popping and sizzling in the skillet.

"No. He's busy every morning tending to the animals." Maren pressed her hand to the waist of her calico dress, a tear sliding down her cheek. "I'll talk to Dr. Le Beau tomorrow. I don't want to disturb him on a Sunday." Her bottom lip quivered. "Gabi is old enough to do a lot for herself, but a baby-"

Suddenly, Gabi stood beside them, holding up her cloth dolly. "Here's my baby."

Neither of them had seen or heard the child climb out of the wagon.

Maren looked away, brushing tears from her face.

Caroline scrambled to fill the silence. "After breakfast, maybe you'd like to go with me to help Miss Mary Alice with baby Evie."

Gabi's woolly brown curls bounced. "Yes."

So much had changed for all of them in the past few months, and Caroline couldn't help but wonder if Rutherford would choose to turn back when he found out Maren was carrying his child ... on what his friend Garrett Cowlishaw called a treacherous journey.

Today, Caroline couldn't say she wouldn't return to Saint Charles with them.

19.

Caleb squirmed on his sparse allotment of log, bumping Tiny's arm on one side and Frank's shoulder on the other. All three of them shifted. The last Sunday service Caleb had attended wasn't all that different from the one being held at the center of the circled wagons. The sky served as the ceiling. The grassy ground, the church flooring. A mishmash of logs and stools took the place of pews in the same way they had just over a year ago at Centralia. But Caleb couldn't remember there even being a sermon, let alone who had delivered it. That Sunday morning, he'd somehow roused himself enough to attend.

No. Someone had dragged him out of the tent.

Billy.

A familiar pang seared Caleb's gut and shot into his chest, and he crossed his arms against the onslaught.

Garrett had insisted all of the wagon train's leadership attend the service. Probably saw it as part of his role as the group's shepherd. Most members of the caravan were present, including the immigrants who didn't speak English. Even Wilma Goben, whom he'd rarely seen outside of her camp. Anna's mother seemed to appreciate isolation as much as he did.

Raised in the church, attending Sunday services had once been second nature to Caleb. He had looked forward to the gatherings. But that was before ...

His gaze darted to Mama Zanzucchi and the cross dangling from her neck, then to little Gabi Wainwright who sat in front of the group between Maren and Rutherford, her fingers tracing the holes on the flute she held. He shouldn't be here. Didn't deserve to be here. He was a hypocrite, a sinner who didn't belong in the midst of these good people.

When Garrett cleared his throat and seated himself on a tree stump, Rutherford stood with a zither at his side and set his Bible on the stool.

"Welcome to the Boone's Lick Company's first worship service."

The oldest Zanzucchi boy translated for his family while Le Doc's daughter translated for hers.

"Our esteemed captain asked me and my family to provide some music before I share my story with you."

Mrs. Rengler stood, wearing a hat too small for her head. "Excuse me, Mr. Wainwright, but I have something to say."

Owen tugged her calico sleeve. "Sit down, Sally."

"I will not." She turned her back on her husband and faced the boss.

Garrett stood. "Mrs. Rengler?"

"Captain." Her back stiff, she lifted her generous nose in the air. "I'm not sure he should be in our church service." Without turning her body, she jerked her head to where Isaac sat on a stool at the back of the ragtag congregation. Following Mrs. Rengler's gesture, the whole group turned in their seats. Husbands and wives gasped and murmured. If the count of hats bobbing were to be compared to those swaying back and forth, the group was about evenly split.

Emery Beck rose to his feet. "I agree with Mrs. Rengler. Fighting for the abolishment of slavery is one thing, but inviting the coloreds into our worship services is another entirely."

Caleb's shoulders tensed. Tiny and Frank both leaned forward. They all knew this test of Garrett's leadership had been coming. They also knew he'd rather eat broken glass than let an innocent be abused or allow anyone to question the worth of any man.

"I see no one in this congregation who is above or below anyone else. It is not our place, especially in the eyes of our Maker, to judge any of His created beings as less valuable than ourselves." Garrett scanned the group, not focusing on either of those standing.

"You didn't even fight on their side," Emery spat.

"Now you have me confused, Emery." Garrett's gentle tone belied the sharp set of his jaw. "Are we in church? Or are we not?"

Isaac stood. "I can go, Boss. I don't want to be any trouble."

"You're not." His voice steady, Garrett looked from one dissenter to the other. "If Mrs. Rengler and Mr. Beck are uncomfortable with our way of doing things, they are welcome to dismiss themselves from this service and conduct one of their own, if they so choose. They are not, however, permitted to cause such a disruption here."

Mrs. Rengler sank to her chair. Emery, on the other hand, slapped his hat against his leg and stormed off.

Garrett looked at Rutherford. "What was that you were saying?"

"Welcome." Rutherford set his fingers to the zither, and his wife and little Gabi lifted their flutes and began playing "A Mighty Fortress Is Our God." Most everyone joined in, singing in English, French, German, or Italian.

Miss Hattie Pemberton stood, turned toward the group, and began moving her arms as if she were a musical director. Unfortunately, the movements bore little connection to the melody. She had just ushered in the second stanza when Mrs. Wainwright's flute dropped to her lap then tumbled to the ground. Rutherford swiftly set his zither on the stool and cupped his arms just in time to catch his wilting wife.

"Mother Maren!" Gabi's cry tore Caleb's heart. The group had already suffered a child breaking an arm. Now this, and they were only six days into the demanding journey.

If disease were to strike them and spread ... Caleb didn't want to think about what could happen.

Dr. Le Beau darted toward Rutherford, shouting orders over his shoulder. The oldest of his sons ran to their wagon while Caroline Milburn suddenly appeared with a cup of water. When Maren Wainwright stirred, whispers ensued in the inner circle and murmurs rippled through the gathering again.

Within moments, Rutherford carried his wife to the bench where the widow Milburn cradled Gabi in her arms. His hand on his wife's shoulder, he looked out at the concerned crowd. "It is with joy that I make this announcement."

More murmurs.

"It appears my dear wife is going to give me a son or a daughter."

Sighs of relief replaced the murmurs as Gabi shouted, "A baby!"

Knowing Rutherford had lost his first wife in childbirth, Caleb begged God's protection on them all.

Folks swarmed the family, offering well-wishes and advice. What began as a simple church service had quickly given way to a public announcement. Now, everyone knew the Wainwrights' business. This traveling town didn't allow for privacy.

Caleb went to stand behind the crude seats. How did he expect to keep his failings in the past where they belonged?

He fought the nagging fear and drew a deep breath. His secret was safe. No one knew.

Except for him, and the pit of his stomach.

Anna couldn't remember the last time she'd felt this good. Not only was Mutter out of the wagon, but she was seated beside Anna in a worship service. The last time Mutter had attended a service was branded upon Anna's memory. The following Tuesday, Mutter received the telegram from the Department of War saying her beloved son had fallen in a barrage of enemy gunfire. Mutter hadn't gone to church since. Anna felt her throat tighten at the remembrance. She refused to let the past tarnish this moment. Her new beginning. Mutter and Grovater's fresh starts.

"Before she was my wife ... before I ever believed I could love again, Miss Maren Jensen"-Rutherford smiled at Maren, now settled comfortably between Caroline and Gabi-"showed me what it meant to allow oneself to be guided by the lamp of God's Word. To trust the path He has for you, even when you can't see the way. Especially when you can't discern the direction, trusting His ability to navigate rough waters." Rutherford Wainwright stood before them in the midst of his own second chance. Reuniting with his daughter after a four-year absence, finding a new wife, and having a baby on its way.

Lord, please strengthen Maren with Thy divine grace.

Anna reached for her mother's hand, praying the same for her. For all of them, including Caleb.

Following the service and a noon meal, Hattie and Mary Alice brought their busy work to Anna's camp for a visit. Mutter had gone into the wagon to rest, causing Anna to wonder about any more hidden bottles.

Now, Anna sat at the worktable, feathers, ribbons, and hat blanks spread in front of her. Word was they'd roll into Independence in less than two weeks. The city had long been the jumping-off point for most westbound overlanders. Independence was certain to have at least one millinery and dress shop, and Anna was determined to have five hats ready to sell to the proprietor.

Hattie Pemberton was the only person Anna knew who would continue to wear a Sunday bonnet while doing her mending. Her friend pulled a needle through a wool sock and glanced toward the wagon. "It did my heart good to see your mother at the service this morning."

Anna nodded. "Mine too."

Bending to the quilt where Evie slept, Mary Alice pulled the corner taut. "I surely wish my Tom would join us for church." She sighed then lifted the knitting from her lap and resumed her work. "Says he can't believe in a God who would allow people to kill one another." The words had no sooner left Mary Alice's mouth when she gasped. "Oh dear. You both buried ... Forgive me. My husband would say I live with my foot in my mouth."

"No need to apologize." Anna wove a peacock feather through the band on the straw hat she was designing.

"Anna's right." Hattie smoothed the toe of the sock. "Neither one of us are porcelain dolls that break at the mention of our losses."

Anna looked up to respond. Instead, she watched Boney and Caleb walk toward them. Hattie and Mary Alice had apparently noticed too, for they both quieted. Still dressed in clean Sunday shirts, the two men were engaged in deep conversation as if they'd lost track of where they were headed.

Hattie pinched the brim of her hat, her pinkie finger extended. "You two gents look mighty serious. Solving all of the world's problems, are you?"

Boney lifted the floppy hat from his head. "Just discussing how lovely you look on this fine Sunday."

"You are quite the flatterer, Mr. Boney."

Anna nodded in agreement, though it wasn't Boney who held her attention, but the man with the disarming brown eyes. The one who couldn't tell her the secrets behind them.

"It's good to see you again, Anna."

"And you, Caleb."

Boney cleared his throat. "Anna. Caleb. Since when did you two become so friendly?"

"Since he helped us with the wagon."

"And I heard her singing to an ox." Caleb grinned, revealing the dimple in his left cheek.

Anna pressed her hand to her lips. She was able to stifle the giggle, but not the memory of standing in the pasture with him and not wanting to be anywhere else.

Boney chuckled and slapped Caleb on the shoulder. "S'pose we better move along and let these ladies get back to their work."

Both men brushed the brims of their hats and walked away, but not before Caleb caught her eye again and dipped his chin.

She needed to guard her heart against the distraction that was Caleb Reger. She needed to concentrate on her work and on seeing to Grovater and Mutter's well-being.

Didn't she?

Garrett took quick steps past the supply wagon. Away from the swagger and bluster of his trail hands, he tugged his sleeves straight and smoothed his collar.

The good Lord willing, the caravan would arrive on the outskirts of Independence on Saturday afternoon, but that had little to do with the grasshoppers sprinting in his belly today. He waved at the Becks on his way by their breakfast fire, then cut across toward the farm wagon that housed the three youngest Kamden children and a certain redhead.

He had to find out how permanently he'd alienated Caroline Milburn in his attempts to appease Davonna Kamden.

The Kamden camp was quiet. He didn't find the family at their wagon. The young widow turned nanny wasn't there either. The Kamdens had likely gone to the creek, and it wasn't hard to guess that Caroline would take the opportunity for a break. He looked up at the grasses and trees behind the wagons and saw her seated on a quilt under a cottonwood tree.

While he didn't wish to disturb her, he did prefer to speak to her without interruption. He repositioned his slouch hat and tugged his coat straight before taking long strides toward the tree. He'd only stay long enough to plead his case for having no choice but to follow up on Mrs. Kamden's claim that Caroline had taken the locket.

When she saw him approaching, she stood and adjusted her straw hat. To block the sun or her view of him? He couldn't say until she looked up, straight into his eyes.

His mouth went dry. All he could hear was her speech in the dry goods store about him purporting to be a Southern gentleman yet referring to Anna Goben as a dithering wife. Yesterday, he'd questioned Caroline about being a thief. Coming to see her so soon was a bad idea.

"To what do I owe the honor of this visit, Captain Cowlishaw?"

He shoved his hands into his trouser pockets. "I count it a pleasure you're still speaking to me, ma'am."

"And well you should." She tugged her apron straight and met his gaze. Her lips were pursed, but a teasing sparkle lit her green eyes. Emeralds: the only thing that would come close.

Now the dryness affected his throat. No woman, including the one who had left him and moved on, had ever affected him as Caroline Milburn did.

She moistened her lips. "I suppose you've heard the wonderful news by now? Mrs. Kamden found her locket."

"Yes." He pulled his hands from his pockets and then quickly returned them. "It was wonderful news, but no surprise. You are many things." Passionate. Resourceful. Patient. Determined. Lovely. A flush warmed his ears. "But a thief? No." Unless he considered the fact that she may have stolen his heart while he was looking. Staring, according to Caleb.