On the hillock, she claimed she wasn't embarrassed by her need to be rescued. Wasn't embarrassed knowing he'd seen her toss a bottle into the fire or witnessed her mother's behavior. During their very few dance steps Saturday night, she said she wasn't angry with him, but at herself.

None of it made sense. He would've guessed Anna had learned the truth about the raid at Centralia, but she couldn't know. He was the only person alive who knew what had truly happened there. He'd talked to her mother some, but hadn't told her any of that. No, it was most likely she felt guilty about her mother's behavior and was all the more determined to look after her.

Either way, it didn't seem he could do anything but wait. And hope the feelings Anna had for him the day they kissed were still there and would one day surface again.

He prayed it would be soon.

He'd just stretched the harness out on the log to dry in the sun, when he heard horses approaching and looked up. Wilma Goben sat atop a borrowed chestnut, looking every bit fine. Boney and Otto rode on either side of her. Where was Anna? It wasn't like her not to be at her mother's side.

"Caleb." Boney waved his hat toward the harness. "You get my work done for me, did ya?"

"You know me better than that." Caleb looked at Anna's family. "Otto. Ma'am. How did you find Rock Creek?"

"A very well-named town. About all there was to it." Otto chuckled. "A rock and a creek."

"You're forgetting about the lumber mill and the general store." Wilma turned toward Caleb and smiled. "That's where Anna is. She stayed behind to enjoy a sarsaparilla with her friends."

"Oh?" The word came out as a question. He could have been knocked over with a feather right then. Anna had actually done something for her own enjoyment.

"I was surprised too," Otto said. "They won't be far behind us. The captain, Arvin, and Tiny are in town to see to 'em."

Perhaps it was a good sign that Anna was feeling comfortable letting her mother go-to get out from under the dark cloud that had settled over her. A good sign that she might soon be ready to talk to him again. To listen to him.

Right now, he'd settle for a smile.

41.

Anna looked up at the crescent moon set in the graying sky. She breathed in the cool evening air and rode Molasses past the grouping of wagons. Grovater waved to her from the back of Ian Kamden's Conestoga where he was helping to grease a wheel.

Mutter had been right-it had done her good to enjoy some refreshment with friends. There wasn't much to Rock Creek, so it wasn't the place that did her so much good, but the company. Even lukewarm, the sarsaparilla was a welcome treat after so many weeks on the road.

All the while, Mutter had been back here cooking the stew and baking fresh biscuits. Anna needed to help and catch Mutter up on the news from her friends. She guided her horse around a gaggle of children playing stickball.

At their camp, Anna stepped down from the stirrup and tethered Molasses to the tongue at the front of their wagon. She looked around. Three empty stools framed the worktable. Carrots and potatoes lay peeled but not cut. Water boiled in the dutch oven, which hung above a dying fire.

"Mutter?"

Had she gone to the stream for water? Or maybe into the wagon to lie down while she waited for Anna's help?

Anna climbed the wheel spokes. She had no sooner reached the wagon seat when the bitter stench of liquor assaulted her senses.

How? Mutter didn't have any left in the wagon. How had she gotten her hands on more? She'd left the general store without it. Mutter wouldn't have gone and found a saloon ... not with so many from camp right there.

Why had Anna trusted her? She shouldn't have. She needed to get the liquor away from Mutter before the captain found out about it.

Anna scrambled over the seat and in through the canvas opening. A half-empty bottle of amber liquid lay on the floor. "Where did you get it, Mutter?"

Mutter lay in her hammock in one of her drunken stupors. She didn't answer.

"Mutter!" Anna rose onto her tiptoes and nudged Mutter's shoulder more abruptly than she should have. But she was tired of this. She'd believed Mutter had finally given up the drink. "Wake up!"

Mutter didn't even stir.

Anna's heart hammered in her chest as she laid her hand on Mutter's cheek. Her skin was still warm, but waxy and damp. Heat raced up Anna's neck into her face. "Mutter!"

She shook her.

"Wake up!" What was wrong? She'd seen Mutter in a drunken stupor countless times, but never this bad. Her gaze settled on Mutter's chest. It wasn't moving.

Terror clutching her, Anna pressed her fingers to Mutter's wrist.

Nothing.

"What have you done?" Anna didn't realize she'd yelled until she heard a commotion headed their way.

"It came from the Goben camp."

"Something's wrong."

"Get Otto!"

The sarsaparilla soured in Anna's stomach. She couldn't let them find Mutter like this. Couldn't let them find the bottle. And what about the smell?

What would Mutter do?

Her hands shaking, Anna corked the bottle and shoved it into her own trunk. Then she yanked an onion from the hanging sack, dropped it between two barrels, and stomped on it.

Tears burned her eyes.

God help her, Mutter was dead.

And Anna was still trying to protect her.

Caleb glanced out at the road in the direction of Rock Creek. He'd lost count of how many times he'd done the same thing in the past hour.

"I like dominoes good enough."

Caleb gripped his double-seven and looked up at Oliver Rengler, who sat across the table from him. It was a real good thing he wasn't doing anything that required a lot of concentration. Between his rolling thoughts of Anna and Oliver's love of gab, he wouldn't stand a chance.

"It's just that I miss playin' checkers with ol' Mister Heinrich. We talked about the river and Germany. And he always had somethin' new to show me. Like a steroviewer."

Caleb nodded. "We left a lot of good people behind in Saint Charles." He opened his hand and played his sevens.

"Woo-weee." A grin widened Oliver's face. "I was hopin' you'd play a seven. That's all I needed to win you."

"Again." Caleb raised his hands in surrender. That was it for him. He'd seen Anna and the others ride into camp. Not that she'd be looking for him, but he might just decide to take a stroll that direction before supper.

"I'm real good at games. That's what Owen says."

"Well, your brother is right. And that's the last trouncing for me today." Caleb started stacking the tiles into their wooden box.

Oliver grabbed a handful of dominoes and made stacks on the table, then looked up at Caleb. "Did Madam-eezle Camille talk to you today?"

Caleb shook his head. "Was she supposed to?"

"I told her to tell you or the captain when she told me about her father's pill case."

"The doctor's? What about it?"

"Well, it's missing. She said they looked high and low for it."

"So, she thinks someone stole his pill case?"

Oliver nodded, his chin practically brushing his coveralls. His head suddenly still, he opened his hands and raised them. "And I didn't take it."

"She said you did?"

"The Madam-eezle?" Oliver shook his head. "No. But Sally thinks I took all those things."

As far as Caleb was concerned, Oliver's sister-in-law and Emery Beck belonged in a camp of their own. "But you didn't take any of it."

"No sir. I like to look at nice things, but stealing is a sin. Says so in the Ten Commandments."

"What have you done?"

Caleb's spine stiffened. The shout belonged to Anna. He could tell that even in the distance.

Oliver's bushy brows shot upward. "That was Miss Anna."

"Yes." Miss Anna very upset, which probably meant her mother had been drinking again. Caleb stood and grabbed his hat from the table.

"I'm coming too." Oliver shuffled behind him. "I like Miss Anna."

There was a good chance Wilma had snuck a bottle out of the general store. And this time, everyone in camp would know about it.

When he and Oliver arrived at the Gobens' camp, Boney looked out through the pucker of canvas at the front of the wagon, through the gathering crowd, and straight at Caleb.

"It's Wilma." His voice quavered. "Get the doctor!"

Caleb darted to the Le Beaus' cookfire and returned with the doctor and his daughter. When they stepped up into the Gobens' wagon, Caleb waited at the edge of their camp with most of the Company. The sound of Anna crying inside the wagon foretold misfortune and tightened his chest.

Caroline and Mary Alice Brenner braced each other. Hattie stood with Maren Wainwright. Lorelei with her mother-in-law, Irene. All of Anna's friends from the quilting circle. Sally and Owen Rengler stood off to the side, at a distance. Murmurs mixed with prayers buzzed about him until he thought his head might burst.

When Garrett stepped out over the seat, the crowd quieted. "Folks, it is with deep regret that I must announce very sad news. Mr. Otto Goben and Miss Anna have lost their beloved daughter and mother, Wilma, this evening."

"Is it the plague?" Sally Rengler's voice carried over the rising murmurs.

"Folks, there are no signs of an illness that could be considered contagious." Garrett looked across the crowd, his hands out, palms down. "Now, out of respect for the bereaved, I ask that you all, except for Otto's and Miss Anna's close friends, return to your camps and go about your business."

Caleb's insides twisted. His guess was Anna's mother had bought some rotgut. Trade whiskey.

And it was his fault.

He knew the problem she had. He also knew the power of its grip better than anyone who went to town with her. He should have protected her.

Now there was nothing he could do for any of the Gobens. Willing his legs to move, Caleb turned toward his camp.

"Caleb!"

Reluctantly, he looked over his shoulder as his boss walked toward him. "Bring Otto's oxen up. You'll go into town with him."

Caleb shook his head. Not when it was his fault the man's daughter was dead.

"You're the right man," Garrett said quietly.

"But, Boney-"

"Trust me."

It didn't seem he had a choice. Caleb swallowed the rest of his argument and nodded.

42.

Caroline knelt in front of Anna. "You need to at least drink something, Anna." She held out a steaming cup of black tea with a sprig of mint. Her poor friend sat on a mattress in Maren's wagon, wrapped in the circle's friendship quilt, her knees bent and her head bowed. Rutherford had taken Maren and Gabi to Mary Alice's camp for supper.

Anna looked up, her eyes puffy, circled in red.

"You won't feel like eating or doing much of anything for a while," Caroline said, "but please try to drink this."

Anna reached for the cup, her movements slow. "You shouldn't be here. You have a joyful wedding to plan. You shouldn't have to see me like this."

"Mrs. Brantenberg was fond of saying, *Here in this quilting circle, none of us are alone. Not in our sorrows, nor in our triumphs.' " Caroline watched steam rise from the tea. "This is what friends ... sister-friends do. What you did for me when I learned Phillip was dead."