When she nodded, Garrett lifted her into position, helping her right leg over the pommel.

Caroline settled into the saddle then took the reins from him. "I am quite certain that went much more smoothly with your help than it would've without it. Thank you."

Garrett swung into the saddle on his stallion and leaned toward her. "You're most welcome, ma'am." He brushed the brim of his white hat.

"Caroline. Please call me Caroline. You did, after all, keep me from taking a tumble." She smiled.

"I'm happy to oblige." He lifted the reins. "Are you ready, Caroline?"

Yes. No. Nodding, she raised her eyebrows. "I think so." Please let me be ready, Lord.

Garrett clicked a command to the horses, and they sauntered across the lush meadow toward a stand of trees. Molasses's first steps made Caroline feel like cream sloshing in a bucket. She gripped the front edge of the saddle with her right hand to steady herself. Soon, her body began to sway with the bay's steady rhythm.

Following Garrett, she couldn't help but note that he'd given her space to reacquaint herself with the feel of a horse in movement without the embarrassment of a watchful eye. A helpful teacher, and a thoughtful one too.

She managed to ride up beside the stallion and guide Molasses to match the pace of the taller black horse. Garrett glanced at her but remained silent, looking peaceful and at home on horseback. Or with her?

Enjoying the solace, Caroline looked up at the flawless blue sky, watching a yellow bird flit from a primrose bush to a box elder. She couldn't have asked for a more perfect day.

They'd ridden in silence for a few minutes when she sensed Garrett's attention. She met his warm gaze and smiled. How long had he been watching her?

"You're feeling all right?" he asked. "Comfortable?"

"I am." On the horse, and with him.

Garrett glanced at the grassy ground, then back up at her. "The last time you rode a horse, it was with your husband?"

"Phillip's uncle had a ranch outside of Philadelphia, and we rode there a time or two."

"Has it gotten any easier?"

The sincerity in his eyes told her he wasn't talking about riding a horse. "Easier than it was when you first handed me the letter from the Department of War? Yes."

"I'm glad." Garrett shifted on his saddle. "I know it's been difficult."

"It has, but-"

"You're here."

She nodded. "Yes." With him. And enjoying his company. A vast improvement from her feelings mere weeks ago.

They'd ridden a ways farther from camp when Garrett stood in the stirrups and stretched his right leg.

"Does the leg pain you much?" she asked.

His brow creased. "Only when I ride."

Caroline's breath caught and she pulled back on the reins, halting her horse. "But you ride every day. We're riding-"

His boyish grin stopped her midsentence. "I'm tugging your leg now." He chuckled, his face turning red. "I know it was mean, but I couldn't help myself."

Good; he also had a sense of humor. He definitely possessed many intriguing layers. For show, she slapped the air between them and he ducked. Yes, she was already enjoying getting to know the man leading the caravan.

She pulled the reins around and signaled for her horse to resume his slow gait. "If you don't mind my asking, how did you injure your leg? When we first met, my nephew Gilbert asked if you'd been shot, and you told him you hadn't."

"Yes. I remember." He sat back down. "He's a bright boy. You must miss Gilbert-all of them-Mary, Cora, and your sister."

He obviously remembered Jack too, since he'd failed to mention her brother-in-law in the list of those she was likely to miss.

"The injury was a knife wound." He flexed his leg before settling his boot into the stirrup. If Phillip were able to tell her what happened in battle, would he? She guessed not.

Concerned with her sensibilities, her late husband would've kept the experiences to himself. She was wrong to ask Garrett to talk about the war. He probably thought her unladylike to inquire. Even forward. Brash.

Gripping the front of the saddle, she straightened. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked."

"Don't ever think that. I want us to know each other."

Her skin suddenly warmed, and she pressed her hand to her collar. "I want that too." No, Garrett Cowlishaw was not Phillip Milburn. And as much as she'd loved Phillip, her curiosities concerning the man beside her mounted.

"It happened in a battle, but not in the kind of battle you might expect."

"I don't understand. It was an accident involving a fellow soldier?"

"Phillip no doubt joined the Union army as a patriot, convinced he was fighting for a noble cause."

"He did." His callous repetition of the stark difference between him and her late husband awakened her indignation, but she pushed it down. They needed to at least hear each other out. "Phillip believed in the United States. He fought and died for the freedom of all men."

Garrett nodded.

He had nothing more to say about it? Perhaps she and the captain getting to know each other wasn't such a splendid idea after all.

"As you know, I was a Confederate soldier."

"Our first point of contention."

"Yes." His horse stopped in front of the stand of dogwood trees. "There's a log over there. Mind if we sit for a spell?"

"Probably a good idea." If he got her mad enough, she was liable to twitch her ankle at the horse's side, giving Molasses the wrong idea.

He dismounted, then helped her down, and they walked the few feet to the log and seated themselves.

Garrett removed his hat and straddled the fallen tree, facing her. "Caroline, I didn't fight with my squad. Don't get me wrong. When I needed to, I fought to protect my fellow soldiers. But I didn't join the army because I agreed with their cause. It's a poor excuse and makes me sound weak, but I joined because I was afraid of my father most of my childhood. And desperate to please him."

"Your father made you go to war?"

"As far as he and my brother were concerned, I had no choice but to go in gray."

Caroline worried the seam on her calico skirt.

"A time came when I'd had enough." He slapped his hat against his leg. "My squad came upon a family of runaways."

"You were stabbed trying to capture runaway slaves?"

Garrett looked away.

Her stomach knotted. This was a mistake. She didn't want to know.

"Trying to protect them," he said.

Her breath caught. "Trying?"

Tears brimmed in his eyes. "He was a boy. Thirteen."

She pressed her hand to his tensed arm. "He didn't make it?"

His shoulders sagged. His head turned side to side like a slow pendulum.

Tears stung her eyes and burned her cheeks. "But you were willing to give your life to save him." Her heart breaking, her voice cracked. "You tried to save him."

Every horrible thing she'd said to Garrett when they first met assaulted her like fiery arrows. She'd treated him like a criminal. Like an enemy. Why, she'd all but accused him of personally killing her husband.

She slid her fingers down his arm and gripped his hand. "I was awful to you. Can you ever forgive me?"

Giving her hand a gentle squeeze, Garrett looked her in the eye. "I already have." He let go. "Caroline, there's something more you should know about me if we are to spend more time together." He glanced at the horses. "Together like this, I mean."

Drawing in a deep breath, she nodded.

"I was married. Corliss and I were married only months before I went to war."

Was married. Were married. "Your wife died? All the time I was grieving the loss of Phillip, you knew what it was like ... how I felt?"

"My grief wasn't the same. My wife didn't die; she left me."

She followed his gaze to the closest tree, where two squirrels scampered up the trunk and out onto a limb.

"Corliss said she wanted nothing to do with a traitor."

"I'm so sorry." Her head was beginning to understand what her heart had apparently already known-Garrett was indeed a man she admired. A man she could love.

28.

Tuesday morning, Garrett looked out over the Kansas River, just west of Independence. After driving through the jumping-off city yesterday, the Company had camped on the riverbank. Today, a small paddle wheeler would carry the wagons across the river two at a time.

The Becks were to be first. Caleb guided Emery, Irene, and their animals onto the flat deck of the ferry, while Frank directed Arven and Lorelei with their wagon.

In order to place a couple of his men on the other bank early, Garrett waved Boney and Isaac into line with the chuck wagon behind Tom and Mary Alice Brenner's mishmash conveyance. The rest of the Company would have more time on the bank while waiting for the little boat to cross and return. But still it was important they all line up and ready their wagons for the river.

Feeling a bit like Noah with his ark, Garrett lined up the remaining wagons two by two. He motioned for Caroline and Rhoda Kamden to pull the farm wagon up behind the Renglers' tidy wagon. He had decided to separate the Kamden wagons. One, because of the added weight of the Conestoga and the large family. Two, because something wasn't quite right with Davonna, and Ian would have his hands full caring for his mother. Oliver Rengler would help Mrs. Kamden and Caroline keep track of the children. Ian Kamden and his mother would ride over in the Conestoga with Rutherford, his family, and their smaller wagon.

The Gobens would ferry over with the Le Beaus. The Pembertons with the Zanzucchis. Once everyone had been safely transported, he and Tiny would ferry over with the supply wagon.

The paddle wheeler worked against the flow, crossing the river at an angle. Its little steam engine grunted and puffed great clouds of smoke and mist. When the Becks started across, Garrett walked the muddy ruts toward the river until he came to the chuck wagon.

Holding a strip of jerky in one hand, Boney pushed his flop hat back on his head. "The line's lookin' good, Boss."

Garrett gave him a quick nod. "So far. Just wishin' this was the last load over and not the first."

"Me too." Boney bit off the end of the jerky stick. "There's no doubt that river crossings have come a long way since your first two trains."

"They have. Ready-made ferries save time and keep folks and their animals dry."

Nodding, Boney looked up the line. "You done all you could to prepare the folks, and they look plenty ready to me."

It seemed so. He hoped so. Garrett glanced at the grub box. "You have any idea what would help sweeten the wait for me?"

A grin widened Boney's blue eyes. "Doughnuts. That's why you came to see me?"

"That, and your cheery self."

"Just happened to save one for you, Boss." Boney unlatched the box and pulled a sugar-coated doughnut from a sack.

Garrett took a big bite, the sweetness of sugar teasing his tongue. "You're a good man, Boney."

"Thanks. But if I didn't have my cookin' to make me so well-liked ..."

Garrett laughed. "Those skills don't hurt you none."

"Speaking of skills ..." Boney pushed his flop hat back on his head. "Couldn't help but see how good you were at teachin' the widow how to climb onto Anna's horse Sunday."

He'd known the teasing would come. "You didn't have enough work to keep you busy?"

Boney swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing. "Plenty o' work. Just lookin' out for ya." He glanced up the line at the Kamdens' wagons. "For you. And for the ladies."

"Speaking of the ladies, maybe I should shift the order of things ... put you on the ferry with the Pembertons."

"Is Miss Hattie bribin' you again for my attentions?"

Garrett laughed, earning a grunt from the lead oxen. "You know you like it."

"I do, actually. Miss Hattie is full of vim and vigor." He put the last of the jerky in his mouth. "Wouldn't mind, though, if she didn't wear such big hats."