The captain of the caravan didn't think she could meet the responsibilities and complete the journey.

Caroline sighed. Unfortunately, she was no longer sure she could prove the man wrong.

Garrett sat on a tree stump, watching the first wagons pull into the clearing. Following Boney's lead, the others formed a semicircle in front of the stand of oak.

Even in a meadow teeming with wagons, animals, and people, Caroline Milburn managed to capture his attention. The young widow strolled playfully with the three youngest Kamden children in her charge. Caroline spun left and right with Maisie, Lyall, and Duff, her gingham skirts billowing with each spin.

He looked away so as not to be accused of staring.

"Captain!" Three-year-old Maisie darted toward him. "Captain!"

Her brothers joined her. Six-year-old Duff tugged the kerchief knotted at his neck. "What do you see, Captain Cowlishaw?"

Garrett looked at Caroline, who followed the children at a slower pace. "What do I see?"

"Uh, yes. What do you see around you?" Caroline tipped her head up, raising the brim on her bonnet. Her eyes were as bright green as the new leaves on the trees.

What did he see? A woman who was turning out to be very good with the children, strangers or not. A resourceful woman. A woman who made him wish he hadn't gone to war, or at least hadn't fought on the opposing side. Only their first day on the road and he was already doing a poor job of avoiding her.

"It's a game we're playing. Right now, we are looking for items that start with the letter c, Captain Cowlishaw." A smile edged Caroline's mouth.

"The game is making my toes better." Maisie held up a cloth rabbit. "Her toes too."

Lyall sighed. "Well, my legs still hurt."

"Children." The nanny swatted the air between them. "The captain doesn't have time for our games."

"Aha." Garrett raised a pointed finger, looking straight at Maisie. "I know what I see that starts with a c. A cherub." Chuckling, he tapped the little girl on the nose. "I see a cherub."

All three of the children laughed, and so did their nanny. The melody charmed his heart, then caused it to ache. He'd expected to have children with Corliss. No doubt, Caroline had planned on having children of her own before the colonel died.

"Captain?"

Garrett shifted his attention to Lyall, who was bent and rubbing his right leg.

"What about my legs, Captain? They still hurt."

"I'd rub some mint poultice on them to fight the cramping." Garrett patted the boy's shoulder then looked at the woman with a red curl dangling at her neck. "There should be mint sprouting along the creek here. That should fix you right up, Lyall." He brushed the brim of his hat. "Ma'am, you be sure and let me know if you don't find any."

"I will." She moistened her lips. "Thank you."

Now, if only he had a clue about what to use as a salve for his aching heart.

8.

Anna strolled toward the pasture, the lead rope slack in her hand. Four oxen followed at her heels as she mingled with other folks doing the same with their animals. Dr. Le Beau's daughter, Camille, approached with an empty water pail in each hand, her smile warm.

"Good evening."

"Bonsoir. Good evening." Long hair the color of coal lay over one shoulder, tied with a forest-green ribbon.

Anna waved as they passed, and Camille's smile deepened. Camille wasn't more than a year younger than her, and would likely be enjoyable to talk to if they both weren't so busy caring for family and tending to chores.

"Bonsoir," Anna said quietly, trying out the strange word. With her German accent, it didn't sound even close to Camille's version. Camille had already agreed to give Hattie French lessons. If Anna had time, it'd be fun to learn a third language, but she'd be doing well to keep up with the oxen tonight.

Despite the rough start to the morning-having to say good-bye to Emilie and the others in Saint Charles, only to face the fussy Mr. Reger-her first day on the road had been a good one. Mutter had ridden in the wagon seat for most of the fifteen or more miles but seemed resolved to make the most of the journey. If not for her own sake, for Anna's. Perhaps Grovater had convinced her to ease up some. Whatever the motivation, Anna was grateful for the reprieve from Mutter's objections. And if Mutter had looked for the bottles Anna had buried on the banks of Blanchette Creek last night, she kept their absence a secret.

When the lead rope stretched taut, Anna slowed her steps and drew in a deep breath. The fragrance of campfires and cook pots scented the air. With the first day nearly over, Anna turned her thoughts to the previous night. While still camped in Saint Charles, Mutter had laid claim to the hammock inside the wagon, and Anna had slept curled atop her trunk. Tonight, she'd sleep outside. Grovater had carefully positioned their wagon in the crooked semicircle so she'd have a tree to stretch her hammock to from the wagon.

She watched as Boney stepped out from between two wagons a few yards from her. He smiled but quickly darted away. Anna sighed as she tied the rope around a low branch. She and Boney hadn't spoken more than polite greetings since she'd called off the wedding. She missed visiting with him and hoped they could return to being friends. This would be an even longer journey if she and Boney weren't able to clear the air between them. It would already be plenty long with Mr. Reger questioning her every move.

"More, Mr. Caleb. More."

Anna turned toward the squealing voice. About twenty yards away, near the creek, a passel of children followed Caleb Reger and his chestnut Pacer. Little Gabi Wainwright sat strapped in the saddle, with Mr. Reger's hand cradling her back. Like a shepherd, Blair Kamden herded the younger children, including her siblings, Mary Alice Brenner's twins, and the three Zanzucchi boys.

If Anna didn't have Mutter to look after and supper to fix, she'd be tempted to take Molasses from the pasture and offer rides. That was, if she weren't concerned about doing something wrong within Mr. Reger's line of vision and inviting another of his smoldering speeches.

This evening, he hardly resembled that strict taskmaster. His hat nowhere to be seen and his hair tousled, he sidestepped alongside the horse. His baritone chuckle carried on the air along with the giggles of the children, and the infectious sound caused a surprising burst of laughter from Anna.

Looking up, he smiled at her. One of the oxen jerked the rope, catching her off guard and causing her to lose her footing and her balance. When her attempts to regain stability failed, Anna fell to the ground. Hardly missing a beat, she scrambled to her feet and grabbed the lead rope, embarrassment burning the tips of her ears.

Mean or nice, Caleb Reger was now, officially, an unwelcome distraction.

"Are you all right?" he called.

"Yes." Except that her pride had taken another fall, and any bruise on her backside wouldn't prove nearly as painful.

"Miss Caroline."

Caroline looked up from Maisie's tangled hair. Lyall stood beside the stool.

"When are you going to the creek?" he asked.

She sighed. "Not now, Lyall." Could he not see how busy she was? How busy she'd been all day?

"But my leg hurts worser. And Mither said we can't go without the sun."

Caroline glanced up at the purple rays of the sun settling behind clouds near the horizon.

The afternoon walk hadn't been much different from their morning walk, except that she'd run out of games to keep the children occupied. If Angus wasn't helping his father grease wheels and Blair wasn't helping Maren prepare supper, she'd be tempted to have them take the younger children to the creek after the mint for a poultice. Still, it was best she went herself. They didn't need to add poison ivy to their list of complaints.

"Aaaackkk!" Davonna Kamden jumped back and stared at the rope that had suddenly appeared around the butter churn.

Duff gasped as he darted toward her. "Oh no. Gran." Contrition creased his forehead as he quickly retrieved the rope. "I didn't mean to throw it so hard."

His grandmother huffed. "I'll have no cowboys in my kitchen."

"Yes ma'am."

"Miss Caroline?" Lyall asked.

Caroline drew in a deep breath and turned to face Duff's brother. "Lyall."

"The captain said to get polcy at the creek."

"He said I'd find the mint for the poultice at the creek." Caroline's fingers chased a knot to the end of a lock of Maisie's light brown hair.

"My legs hurt too." Maisie squirmed.

"Be still," Caroline said.

"Miss Caroline?"

She didn't bother to look at Lyall. The way this was going, come morning, she'd still be untangling Maisie's hair.

"Lyall." Rhoda stood behind a sizzling cast-iron skillet.

"Yes ma'am."

"Whose idea was it that your sister follow you through the trees?"

He looked at the ground. "Mine."

"It's no small wonder that the limbs went after her braids." Rhoda stirred the potatoes. "Miss Caroline and I are too tired for your nagging. I'll send your father for the mint when he returns from the pasture."

Rhoda wasn't one to have much color in her face, but she seemed even more pallid this evening. And now that Caroline thought about it, the mother of five had gotten a late start on supper because she'd been lying down. Hopefully, she wasn't coming down with something. Caroline sighed, easing the brush through Maisie's hair since Rhoda already had her hands full preparing the meal.

When his mother returned her attention to the skillet, Lyall set the tin plates out on the table. Duff wound his rope and put it in the wagon box while Davonna scooped butter into a small bowl. Caroline drew in a deep breath. Resting one hand on the top of Maisie's head, she gently pulled the brush through the child's hair with the other.

"Miss Caroline." It was a man's voice, not Lyall's. Caroline turned to face the captain of this traveling circus. Garrett Cowlishaw stood with his weight on his left leg, one hand behind his back and one eyebrow lifted. His smile was too genteel for her vinegary disposition. "About that poultice I mentioned for the children's legs."

"You brought me some?"

He met her teary gaze then showed his hand.

She was surprised to feel herself smiling. "It's a bouquet of mint."

He nodded, bouncing a tuft of light brown hair on his collar.

"I may have to change my mind about you, Captain Cowlishaw."

"Is that good for me, ma'am?"

Her lips pressed together, Caroline nodded.

The captain smiled at the children. "I may just have to bring Miss Caroline a mint bouquet every day. What do you think?"

All three of them nodded.

Was it possible she'd been terribly wrong about Garrett Cowlishaw, after all?

9.

Tuesday evening, Caleb dragged the wooden spoon through the dutch oven one more time, then pulled the wrought-iron triangle from the grub box and sounded the dinner bell. He watched Tiny, Boney, Isaac, Garrett, and Frank emerge from various places in the camp. Their two wagons sat in the clearing, facing the road. A comfortable setup, considering they'd been on the road a full day and brought half of the town with them.

Frank set two buckets of water at the back of the chuck wagon, then tugged the misshapen hat from his blond head and slapped it on his thigh, adding more dust to the air. "Been far too long since the noon stop. Good thing you rang that bell when you did."

Using a leather scrap to protect his hand, Caleb gripped the handle of the cast-iron skillet and shoved a flat spatula blade under the biscuits, working them until they loosened. He set the pan on a rock beside the firepit. "Grub's ready."

Whether they were ready for his cooking or not. He'd studied to be a preacher, not a cook.

When Garrett nodded toward the front of the line, Isaac stepped up to the pot.

Caleb scooped a ladle full of soup into a bowl, then pulled a biscuit from the pan. If he'd set the hot morsel on the plate any faster, it would have bounced to the ground.

"Thank you." A smile lit Isaac's eyes. He always took his meals like he'd never been served before.

Caleb repeated the action four times before serving himself. When he joined the others on logs around the campfire, Garrett looked up from his plate.

"I thought we'd have a little meeting over our meal. Catch up on any news from the day." Garrett looked at Caleb. "Any problems while me and Isaac were out scoutin' this morning?"

Caleb set his plate on one knee, wondering if he should tell him about the two young women who hung back in town too long. No sense in stirring that pot. "Le Doc's horses all look good."

The fellows laughed.

"Le Doc. I like it." Garrett reached for his coffee mug. "If the horses are gonna give us trouble, it'll be after we hit prairie."

Caleb spooned a bite of potato. The minute it reached his tongue, his nose curled. He shook his head.

"What's wrong?" Tiny snapped a suspender. "You not fond of your cookin' either?"

Caleb shook his head.