Davonna nodded then looked out at the camp. "It's so lovely."

They'd circled the wagons for tonight's gathering. Garrett and the other men built a firepit in the center of camp. Red and orange flames pirouetted in a light breeze. The children played off to one side and a small band assembled itself on the other. A table held various refreshments-pies and other desserts. Lorelei Beck had made macaroons. Everyone looked as if they'd been polished-clean and fresh.

Caroline looked up. Out here on the open prairie, even above a fireglow, the sky sparkled with myriad stars. An especially lovely night.

"Ladies." Garrett walked toward them, his beard neatly trimmed and his hair combed into place, all except for that one wave that liked to frame his temple.

A handsome night. Or at least her captain was handsome tonight.

Davonna removed her hand from Caroline's arm and laid it on Garrett's. His grin undermined Caroline's footing. Thankfully, he held his other arm out to her. The warmth of his skin through his chambray sleeve did little to steady her as he led them toward a circle of chairs, stools, and benches.

"Captain, seeing as how you were so prompt, I'm awarding you my first dance."

"I am most honored, ma'am." He looked at Caroline, his eyebrows arched in a question. "The second dance on your card?"

"It's yours."

And maybe, if she was bold enough, she'd take the opportunity to ask if this was his last caravan west.

Anna seated herself at the worktable across from Mutter. She couldn't remember the last time she'd seen her writing a letter.

Anna pulled a sheet of paper from the desk kit and flipped it over to the blank side. This was as good a time as any to add to the quilting circular. Lorelei had handed her the letter during the noon break. She could tell Emilie and the others in Saint Charles about how well Mutter was doing and that the adventure seemed to have added several years to Grovater's life.

Mutter stilled the quill in her hand and looked up. "What do you think you're doing?"

Anna dipped her chin in surprise. "Writing a letter seemed a good idea."

"It isn't. Not for you."

"Why not?"

The screech and squawk of instruments being tuned momentarily drew their attention to the center of the circle of wagons. "You're not going to be young and attractive forever. You need to find a husband. Now."

"I'm only eighteen." Besides, what did writing letters have to do with aging? And what did going to a campfire gathering have to do with finding a husband? Even as she thought it, Anna knew the answer and the name that would soon be on Mutter's lips.

Mutter drew in a deep breath. "The West is not the friendliest of places for single women." Her eyes were clear and focused. "You'd do well to marry."

"And what if I value my unencumbered young womanhood?"

Unencumbered? That was laughable too.

"Dear, your life is anything but unencumbered." Mutter shook her head. "You know it as well as I do. I never meant to stand in the way of your happiness."

Anna pulled a second quill from the leather pouch. Was that what Mutter was doing? Standing in the way of her happiness?

No. It wasn't Mutter's bad habit, but Caleb's that had discouraged her to follow any notion of romance with him.

The sprightly twang of Grovater's mandolin suddenly courted Anna to dance. Next came the lilt of Boney's harmonica. Her girlfriends would be there. All good reasons to go.

"I'm the reason you didn't marry Boney. I'm the reason you're avoiding Caleb. And I'm the reason you don't want to go to the gathering tonight, aren't I?"

Anna shook her head. "No, you are not the reason for any of those decisions I made." She glanced at the stack of stationery at Mutter's hand. "Are you writing to someone in Saint Charles?"

"The letter is to my sister." Mutter pointed the quill at her. "And don't you think I don't know you purposely changed the course of our conversation."

Anna shrugged and offered a weak smile.

"Little Elva. I'll always think of my baby sister that way. Anyway, your aunt planned to leave Germany, to join us in America. It's been eighteen years." Mutter hung her head. "That's what happens when you sit around writing letters. Nothing!" She sighed. "Time passes."

Anna slid her piece of stationery back into the writing kit. Mutter needed a lively distraction even more than she did. "I'll go to the campfire gathering, and I may even dance a step or two." With Gabi or Maisie or Duff Kamden. Any of the children. "I'll go if you'll come with me."

Mutter sighed, dropping her chin.

Anna stood and held out her hand.

Mutter didn't budge. "I'm not going to drink while you're gone, if that's what concerns you. Even if I wanted to, you made sure all the bottles were destroyed."

Anna knew full well that many of the wagons about them carried liquor. Dr. Le Beau considered himself a connoisseur of fine wines, and the whole Company had gathered in the center of camp. Mutter could easily ...

Anna pressed her hand to her bosom. What a dreadful thought to have of your own mother.

"I don't wish to police you, Mutter." Surprisingly, she actually meant it. Anna glanced toward the music. "You said it yourself, time passes. And I think it may be time we both had a little fun."

Mutter made a noise between a gasp and a grunt. But she gathered the paper and inkwell, then marched to the back of the wagon and set them inside. "Very well. If the only way I can get you to enjoy society with young men is to join you, then let's be on our way."

Enjoy society with young men?

There was only one young man who held her interest.

Feeling more like she was headed to a funeral than a celebration, Anna plodded toward the music and the dancing. Neither one of them looked any better than they had while walking the road just over an hour ago, but Anna found it hard to care.

She and Mutter had no sooner found empty seats when Caleb approached them. He didn't look like he'd been riding the road all day. Not in the least. Freshly combed hair dusted the collar on his blue twill shirt.

"Good evening, ma'am."

Mutter smiled. "And to you."

"How are you doing?" Caleb looked into Mutter's eyes. "Well, I hope."

"Thanks to you. And to Anna, yes." She leaned toward him as if to share a secret. "You are too?"

Caleb gave Mutter a nod.

Anna swallowed hard. Mutter had said she needn't worry about it, that they were going to help each other. And now the two of them were openly talking about their drinking, and how they were doing with the avoidance of it. Anna felt her hands curl into fists and forced them to relax.

"Good evening, Anna." Caleb's gaze was far too attentive. "I'm glad you came."

"Thank you." She could be polite. No sense in causing a scene and ruining the party.

"Katie's Beau!" Frank called, signaling the first dance-a Virginia reel.

Caleb held his hand out to Anna. "May I have your first dance?"

She'd set that snare herself. Actually, Mutter had. But she may as well get the dance with him over with. Then she'd busy herself dancing with Mutter and the children.

Anna placed her hand in his, trying to ignore the calm she felt in his touch. Caleb held her hand high as they waited for the opening notes.

"Thank you for dancing with me, but I'm still waiting for an explanation."

She pressed her lips together. This wasn't the place to share her answer.

"On the knoll, I asked you why you were angry with me."

"I remember."

"You told me you hadn't said you were. But you are angry. My sister used to act the same way when she was mad." A frown line formed above his nose.

"Do you mean to say she pouted?" He could be so charming. How cruel that she'd become so fond of him, only to find out he wasn't the man she thought him to be.

His cocoa-brown eyes narrowed. "Are you pouting, Anna? Ever since the night I found your mother in the draw, you've acted as though it pains you to look at me. Why is that?"

It did pain her to look at him. To think about him. But she couldn't tell him that. When she started to pull away, Caleb tightened his grip.

"Anna, did I do something?"

While everyone around them danced, they stood still.

"It's not you I'm angry with." How could she be? No one was perfect. She couldn't judge him. But neither could she offer him her heart.

"Who, then? Tell me. Maybe I can help."

Tears stung her eyes. "Myself."

He let her go, dropping his hands to his sides. "You're angry with yourself? I don't understand."

"I can't care for you, Caleb." Anna spun toward her wagon.

"Can't? Or won't?"

She didn't look back.

38.

God!" Caleb knelt on the far side of the creek and cried out. His Bible lay shut beside a candle lantern on a nearby rock. He'd not slept all night. The minute he started to drift off, painful memories assaulted him in a barrage of distorted images and sounds. Hearing his mother's cries. Seeing the disappointment and heartache written in the lines on his father's face. A debilitating headache. Waking up to find his fellow soldiers dead. He was sick of the secrets.

"I can't care for you, Caleb." Anna's declaration mocked him. She couldn't care for him, and she didn't even know the truth.

Caleb thrashed the prairie grasses that fashioned his irregular altar. "God! What am I to do?"

He wanted to know peace the way Isaac did. Despite the scars on his face, the emptiness of his arms, and the wounds in his heart, the former slave enjoyed freedom from his past.

How, Lord? How?

"If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness."

"I have confessed!" Time and time again, he'd pled for forgiveness.

He knew the promises in First John. He'd recited them many times. He'd prayed them.

But he didn't feel forgiven. Cleansed. He didn't feel righteous. He jammed his balled fists into his thighs. "What would You have me do? I don't know."

"But if we walk in the light, as he is in the light ..."

Swallowing hard against the acid burning his throat, Caleb raised his face to the darkness. The Scriptures he'd read and intended to preach now felt like swords piercing him to the core.

Walk in the light.

What did that mean? How was he to walk in the light when he carried such darkness?

I am faithful.

The voice wasn't audible, but clear, speaking directly into his spirit. Trembling, Caleb fell on his face.

I am just to forgive your sins. I AM.

My blood cleanses you from all sin. I have made you clean.

Walk in My Light.

When he raised his head, morning light cast stripes on the trees along the creek. He crawled to the rock and opened his Bible to a verse from the book of Hebrews.

"For the word of God is quick, and powerful, and sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing even to the dividing asunder of soul and spirit, and of the joints and marrow, and is a discerner of the thoughts and intents of the heart."

"You know my heart, Lord. Take it. Heal it."

His spirit calmed. His breaths deepened.

Caleb snuffed the candle. It wasn't what he knew in his head or what he felt in his emotions, but what he believed, that brought peace. He couldn't understand how he could be forgiven. He hadn't felt forgiven, so he didn't believe God would forgive him. Had forgiven him. He'd been clinging to the faint light of his understanding while missing the bright and shining Light of the world.

Resting against the rock, Caleb fanned the pages to the book of John. At the eighth chapter, his finger touched the truth in verse twelve.