Her chest tightening, Anna wiped the tears from her cheeks. "I expected more of Caleb."

Grovater's brow creased. "What did you expect from him?"

"Honesty. Caleb knew about Mutter. He pulled her from the river and found her in the draw that night and brought her back."

Grovater nodded. "Yes, that is all true, but I don't see where he was dishonest."

"Because he drinks and never told me. Telling Mutter only made her think her drinking was all right."

"He drank," Grovater said. "Past tense."

"That's what he told you?"

"Yes. And I believe him. Anna, he's spent time with us. Lots of it. Helped us."

Anna moistened her lips, trying to push the memory of his kiss from her mind.

"Have you ever seen or heard or smelled any evidence of alcohol in him?"

"No."

"You don't think Boney would notice? Boney loves you like a sister. He knows your heartache. You don't think he'd tell you if he had any reason to believe Caleb was given to drinking? You don't think he would protect you?"

"He would." A fresh issue of tears stung her eyes.

"Caleb isn't your enemy. He never was. He tried to help your mutter."

"Instead, he dug her grave." She needed to stand behind her decision to dislike him. It was for her own good.

Grovater sighed, his shoulders sagging. "God is with us on this road, Anna girl. And He has been all along." The words seemed to flow as if Grovater hadn't just lost his only daughter. "I don't know. I don't understand." He sent a reverent gaze heavenward. "Only God knows."

But did God know how furious she was? How afraid she was to give her heart to someone she couldn't trust? How afraid she was that Caleb had already captured her heart?

44.

Caleb shifted in the saddle. The memory of watching Anna mourn her mother tore at his heart. Why, God, why?

Boney pulled a slab of jerky from the pack on his mule. He ripped off a hunk and held it out to Caleb. "After all that work you did today, you should have a bite."

"Thanks." Caleb took the jerky. "You think Anna will be all right?"

"That depends."

Caleb looked at Boney with his eyebrows raised, waiting for the rest of the answer.

"On you."

"How do you figure that?"

"I reckon you'll either decide to tell Anna the whole truth, or you won't. And whatever you decide will affect her." Boney bit the end off of his stick of jerky. "You know you're that important to her, don't you?"

"I can't be."

"Just 'cause you used to drink?"

Caleb nodded. "How'd you know?"

" 'Cause of what you didn't say about Wilma. Idle gossip comes from folks who haven't done a particular thing but are afraid they might."

Caleb nudged his hat back and looked at Boney. "How'd you get so smart?"

"My mama said I come by it naturally."

Caleb chuckled.

"You told Anna you used to drink?"

"No. But I told Wilma that night in the draw. I planned to tell Anna-time and again." Caleb shook his head. "You see why I can't tell her now. Her mother just died because of it." He choked back a sudden catch in his throat. "And other people died because I drank."

"You know I'm mindful about all that, but sorrow is sorrow. And it seems to me, the way you and Anna feel about each other, you two could be lightening each other's load."

Boney was right. He needed to talk to Anna. The sooner the better.

He had just pulled his horse off the road and toward the line of wagons, when Boney grunted. "You seein' what I'm seein'?"

Caleb looked up. Anna was fairly marching up the line toward them, her skirt pinched up at the sides.

"Which one of us you figure she's aimin' to fire at?" Boney asked.

"Probably an easy guess. She had plenty of time to talk to her grandfather."

"You told him?"

"Uh-huh."

"You need a little moral support?"

Caleb shook his head and climbed down from his Pacer. "Thanks, anyway."

"Well, good luck to you, then." Grinning, Boney turned his mule toward the chuck wagon.

Her shoulders squared and her lips pursed, Anna looked straight at him. As she approached, he started to ask if she was all right and thought better of it. She obviously was not.

Anna stopped mere inches from him and looked him in the eye, her eyes narrowed. "You didn't think I had a right to know."

"I did."

"You said you were fond of me."

"I was ... I am." He reached for her arm, but she pulled it away. "I am fond of you, Anna. Very fond."

She shook her head as if a fly had buzzed her. "Yet, you told my mother about your past and you didn't tell me?"

He drew in a breath to calm himself. "I wanted to tell you. That day I said I needed to tell you something before you and your mother went into Independence. That day on the knoll. The night of the dance. You wouldn't listen. I wanted you to hear it all from me."

"Instead, you let me believe you were like her, that I couldn't trust you." Her fists balled, Anna leaned into him and pounded his chest. "You let me believe you would drink yourself to death and die on me too."

He cupped her wrists, allowing her to continue hitting him. When Anna broke down into sobs, the pounding subsided and she melted into his embrace, her face buried in his chest.

Her breaths shuddering, she pulled away from him and looked up, her eyes full of questions.

"Anna, I can't express how sorry I am it came to this. I cared about your mother. I tried to help her. Yes, I used to drink. I drank to hide. I drank to be brave. I don't anymore."

She shook her head. "I lost count of how many times Mutter said she had stopped."

Caleb rubbed his bristled cheek. "I need to tell you more."

"It won't bring my mother back."

"Anna, I am truly sorry for your loss, but your mother is not all there was and is to life."

Fresh tears glistened in her eyes. "That's all I've known for so long now." She wiped her face with her sleeve. "Trying to please her. Make her better. Keep her safe. That's all I've known."

Nodding, Caleb ached with her pain and the pain he had caused his own family.

"That day on the porch, you said you'd allowed past experience with women to cloud your judgment of me." She moistened her lips. "A bad past experience with a woman, is that why you drank?"

"Susan and I were sweet on each other in school. From the time I was twelve, I wanted to marry her. I expected to. She was sixteen when I left to fight in the war. While I was gone, I learned she had married someone else."

Anna sighed. "That explains your assumption that I had jilted Boney. Your defensive reaction."

"Yes, but it didn't excuse it. You aren't Susan." Caleb shifted his weight. "As it turned out, I was far from being ready to marry anyone. I was wallowing in self-pity when I met some other soldiers who hung around the public houses. They gave me some liquor, and it made me feel better. Soon I needed it to feel better." He shook his head, remembering Anna's recent loss. "I'm sorry. If this is too hard for you-"

"I want to know."

"My parents begged me to stop. So did my sister. Even in the times I wanted to, I felt powerless. I pretended not to drink anymore and became an expert at covering my tracks."

"You knew the signs. That's how you knew my mother favored the drink."

"Yes." He hung his head then looked up at her. "My squad was at Centralia. Enemy soldiers rode up on us, surprised us, and killed all eight of my friends."

Her breath caught. "You were the only one to survive? How?"

"I carried a bottle in my pack." He looked down at the graveyard mud on his boots, willing himself to continue. "While the rest of them were eating, I took my liquid lunch to my sentry post."

"Oh." Her response came out as a groan.

"From my position, if I hadn't been soused, I could've seen them coming ... maybe done something to save Billy ... any of them."

Anna's shoulders slumped and tears fell. No doubt tears for the other sisters who had lost their brothers. Tears for him. Tears for her mother. And tears for the daughter who had lost the mother she loved.

He pulled a dusty handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to her.

Dabbing her face, she looked at him. "I'm sorry. What a terrible thing to have to live with."

"That's why I've shared so many scripture verses about God's grace. That's also why I don't touch liquor of any sort."

"I'm so sorry you had to go through such a horrific experience." She tucked strands of golden-brown hair behind her ear. "I'm thankful you were my mother's friend. She liked you, you know."

"She didn't know the truth about me."

"She knew enough to know you are a good man. She knew you saw her, befriended her, and tried to watch out for her."

Caleb nodded. He had tried to watch out for her. Like Anna had. He enfolded Anna's hands in his and looked into her eyes, bluer than the deepest lake he'd ever seen. "Never mind that your mother couldn't do what you asked of her and quit drinking. She loved you, Anna. I love you. You captured my heart the day you stood on that porch in Saint Charles and asked if that was all there was to my apology."

Anna drew in a deep breath. "The night I walked away from our dance, I said I couldn't care for you."

"I remember."

"I lied. All I have been able to do is care for you. I love you too."

Caleb raised her hands to his chin. "Anna, your resilience and grace in hardship inspired me to want to know God deeper, to embrace His grace so I could have a heart that was whole and free to love you." He pressed her hands to his lips, kissing each one. "Forgive me. Love me."

Nodding, Anna rose onto her tiptoes and gave him a light kiss on the lips. Her touch may have been tender, but the effects had him seeing forever in her eyes.

Friday evening, Anna sat alone in the wagon. Grovater had hung their hammocks outdoors. When he'd retired for the night, she'd come inside to brush out her hair and change into her nightclothes.

Instead, she leaned over a barrel, staring at Mutter's brightly stenciled trunk. Hungry for a taste of her mother, Anna considered opening the tin latches and looking inside.

Mutter was dead. Not coming back. The trunk now belonged to her and Grovater, and it was doubtful he would care to meddle in Mutter's private possessions.

Kneeling, Anna unlatched the lid and lifted it. The sweet scent of lavender sachets filled her nostrils, bringing the best of her childhood memories to mind. Snuggling with Mutter while she read. Making candles with Mutter. Watching her make potato salad.

The letter Mutter had addressed to Aunt Elva lay on top of a Soldier's Cot quilt Mutter had made in the quilting circle before Dedrick died. Sighing, Anna took the envelope from the trunk and sank to the floor. She leaned toward the light from the candle lantern and unfolded the sheet of stationery.

The words on the page were written in perfect High German.

My Dearest Elva, Sister of my heart, I regret that I have not written you in nearly two years.

My dear son, Dedrick, succumbed to death during this country's dreadful war between its States.