The reins slack in his hand, Garrett rode his black stallion up the line from the last wagon. Between the bear's disruption of sleep and the Scripture reading, the Company was slow getting on the road this morning.

Oliver Rengler finished tucking the canvas cover behind the tailgate of their wagon and waved. "We're ready, Captain." His brother and sister-in-law were at the front of the team, pegging the bows to the yoke.

Garrett brushed the brim of his hat in a hello and kept moving.

"I appreciated the Bible reading, Captain." Mary Alice Brenner waved as he rode past. Four-year-olds Thomas and Alice played tug-of-war with a rag doll at Mary Alice's feet while seven-month-old Evie watched from the quilted sling suspended from her mother's shoulder.

"Thank you." He regarded the woman's husband, who looked as if he'd swallowed a lemon whole. "Mornin', Tom."

"Captain." Tom Brenner was always squinting, but this morning his whole face seemed involved in a scowl. "Just slows us down, if you ask me. Folks could be trusted to do their own readin'. If they choose to."

Garrett pulled up on the reins and stopped for a moment. "You're certainly trusted, my friend. It's just that some like to be together with like-minded folks when the Word of God is read. I'm sorry you don't approve of the delay." Garrett waved and continued on his way, the snipping remarks between husband and wife fading into the background none too soon. Seemed judgment was more likely to come from within his own camp than from on high.

The Sunday service would be interesting with such a mix of folks. And most likely conducted without Tom Brenner present. Which was sure to be another source of contention between the couple.

Garrett had just ridden past the Kamdens' Conestoga, greeting Ian and Rhoda, when he saw Caroline Milburn at the back of the farm wagon.

"Good morning, ma'am."

She looked up, and he doffed his hat.

"Captain." Did the young widow have any idea how distracting the single red curl on her creamy neck was?

Maisie darted toward them with her cloth bunny tucked under one arm. "If we play another game today, you can play too." A wide-eyed smile lit her little round face.

"Thank you, Maisie." He looked at the nanny, wondering how she'd feel about spending more time with him.

Moistening her lips, Caroline loosened the ties on her bonnet. "The captain may have work to do, Maisie."

The green-eyed girl glanced up at his horse. "He can ride his horse while he plays the game."

He chuckled. To a child, it probably seemed that was all he did. "We'll have to see about that, Maisie. But I appreciate the invitation."

Caroline clasped her hands. "Thank you for adding the Scripture reading to our morning routine."

Nodding, he lifted the reins. "I hope it helps. All of us."

"Be strong and of a good courage."

Garrett felt as if Caleb had hand-picked the morning's message just for him. The prowling bear was enough of a challenge for any caravan leader, but he knew from experience there would be more. Much more. He wouldn't think about that right now. Not in the presence of such an intriguing woman.

He straightened in the saddle and brushed the brim of his hat. "Good luck with the game."

Caroline nodded, a smile smoothing her lips and sending tingles up his spine as he urged the horse forward.

"Be strong and of a good courage."

A good message for his heart too. Caroline Milburn wasn't Corliss Huffington Cowlishaw. Corliss would never have ventured west, let alone signed on as a nanny and made up a game to entertain children. She would have called Caroline's bouquet of mint a handful of weeds. No, the enchanting widow was not in the least like Corliss.

But neither was he like Phillip Milburn, a Union soldier, a fact that wouldn't serve him as well.

As he rode past the Becks' wagon, Camille Le Beau took long and quick strides toward him, one hand in the air. Her other hand held a lead rope with four horses following her. "Capitaine."

"Good morning, Mademoiselle Le Beau."

"We need to wait for my papa. He is not yet ready to depart."

A sharp huff distracted Garrett, and he shifted in the saddle to look behind him.

Emery Beck had walked up to the back of his stallion and stood with his arms crossed. "His uppity horses got spooked." His beady eyes narrowed. "I knew they'd be trouble."

Garrett straightened, returning his attention to Camille Le Beau. "Is there a problem? Is it the horses?"

"Two of them have run off. Anna's also. Papa and Monsieur Goben are searching."

"I doubt the horses went far." They were lucky only three of them headed for the hills, what with a bear and then all the pot banging and yelling in the night. "I'll get a couple of men to help find them."

"Merci, Capitaine. Mama and I will ready the wagon."

When she turned away, he did too. Arguing with Emery Beck would be a waste of time. Hopefully, looking for the horses wouldn't be.

"The LORD thy God is with thee whithersoever thou goest."

And when thou goest. The paraphrase was his.

"Captain, you are wrong to coddle that man and his daughter." Mr. Beck's voice would've carried in a gale. "And their high-strung horses."

Garrett twisted in the saddle to answer over his shoulder. "I'll let you know when we're ready to pull out."

No matter with whom thou goest.

Caroline added more foodstuffs to the Kamdens' table. During the noon stop, various members of the Company brought victuals of some sort to the wagon she shared with Davonna Kamden and the youngest of her grandchildren. Maren delivered a plate of potato cakes. Mrs. Zanzucchi brought a loaf of Italian bread, and Anna, a plate of smoked ham. Lorelei Beck was the next to approach Rhoda with wild blackberry tarts.

"What a rude awakening." Lorelei shuddered, blond curls bouncing at her ears. "You all must have been terribly frightened."

"Yes. Well." Caroline slanted a gaze toward the farm wagon.

Davonna poked her head out through the puckered canvas. She hadn't stepped a foot off the wagon all morning. She looked at Anna and Lorelei then at Maren. "Did they tell you it was my fault?"

"Your fault a bear came into camp?" Maren squinted. "How is that possible?"

"I forgot to put the box of food away. Left it on the table. I may as well have put a sign on it inviting the bear to supper."

"That's what Faither said." Lyall kicked a rock. "I heard him."

"Never mind that, Mither Kamden." Her lips pressed together, Rhoda let out a sigh that lifted the wisps of hair on her forehead. "Folks have been so kind to bring our dinner. At least come down to eat and visit."

"Mither's right, Gran." Duff pushed the canvas cap back on his head. "You can't stay in the wagon forever. There's no latrine."

Caroline wanted to laugh but didn't dare. Instead, she pressed her lips together and saw that her friends were doing the same thing.

"Son, that is not a proper topic to discuss in front of the ladies, let alone at the dinner table."

Duff looked up at Rhoda and slid the cap off his head. "Yes ma'am."

Sighing as if she carried the weight of the world on her shoulders, Davonna climbed out onto the seat. "My son only talked about the pretty birds and mountains I would see. He said naught about bears."

Duff spread his feet and twirled his right arm. "If I was a real cowboy, I could've lassoed that bear."

"Or at least the grub box." Caroline laughed and so did the others. Except for Davonna.

"Really, Miss Caroline?" Her Scots accent thick, Davonna scowled like a scorned schoolmistress. "You think having a massive animal like that on the other side of the canvas from you-from our children-is a laughing matter? Do you not take anything seriously?"

Rhoda jerked, her eyes wide. "Mither!"

"Miss Caroline was only making a funny, Gran," Duff said.

Davonna pinned her grandson with a somber gaze. "Well, it isn't the least bit funny to think about fighting a bear."

"But I could protect you if I had a horse and a rifle like the captain. Or like Mr. Caleb. Or Tiny. Or-"

"Rhoda, it was a bad idea to make this trip. All these coarse men are putting dangerous ideas into the wee bairns' heads."

"Coarse men?" Garrett Cowlishaw stepped into view, his white slouch hat in his hand like a perfect gentleman. "Ladies."

"Captain." Caroline smiled, though all she wanted to do was laugh. For all the trouble the children and Davonna could be, they were also most entertaining.

Garrett stepped up beside the wagon and held his hand out to Davonna. "Ma'am, it would be my pleasure to assist you. You must be famished by this time."

"Well, I suppose I ..." She accepted his hand and his assistance to the ground. "Thank you."

"Now, you were saying something about coarse men? Is someone giving you trouble?"

"My grandson."

The captain regarded the boy. "Duff?"

Davonna sighed. "Thanks to you and your trail hands, he is talking about roping a bear like a Wild West cowboy."

"I must say, Duff, I agree with your gran. For now, you need to leave the bears to us."

Davonna's fleshy cheeks blushed. "I hope I didn't offend you, Captain."

"Not at all, ma'am." He set his hat on his head. "I've been called worse."

Caroline shivered despite the sun's warmth on her arms. She'd been guilty of at least thinking the worst of him.

"I'm glad to hear that." Davonna pulled a tart from the table and took a bite. "Mmm. These are very tasty, Captain, you should try one."

Never mind that Mrs. Kamden wasn't seated with a plate and napkin, and no one else had started eating or even said the blessing.

The captain rubbed his chin in a failed attempt to hide a grin. He met Caroline's gaze, the laugh lines on either side of his hazel eyes deepening. She couldn't help but smile.

It was official: she liked Garrett Cowlishaw.

13.

Anna dropped the lead rope, grateful for their noon stop. The oxen team snorted and pawed the ground, ready for their portion of grass. She couldn't say how the oxen's feet were faring but, on this fourth day of walking better than fifteen miles, hers were sore. She needed to take off her shoes and put her feet up, but first she'd make sure her family had something to eat. Since dark clouds loomed on the horizon, the group only planned to stop long enough for quick refreshment for man and animal. The threat of a storm made it all the more critical they gain as much ground as possible before the rains made a muddy mess of the bottomlands.

While Grovater started removing the yokes from the oxen so the animals could eat, Anna set up the small worktable then pulled bread and cheese from the grub box. Mutter unlashed two small cane chairs from the side of the wagon.

"I still don't see how walking miles and miles day after day, sleeping in a suspended rope bed, and cooking over a campfire is supposed to make things better." A scowl creased Mutter's forehead as she ground her favorite chair into the rocky soil on the other side of the table. Mutter hadn't mentioned the missing bottles, but that didn't mean she hadn't searched for them. Their absence could very well be contributing to her bad temper today.

Anna sighed in her exhaustion. They both missed their warm and comfortable beds back home. Why couldn't she believe that was all that was wrong, that Mutter's moodiness had nothing to do with her longing for the drink?

Because she knew better. Mutter had set aside the bottle on several occasions and had never made it through the exasperation and headaches before succumbing to her thirst for deadening relief.

Finished with the yokes, Grovater walked the oxen to the meadow near the pond where the rest of the livestock were feeding. Anna watched as he met up with Charles Pemberton and a few of the others in the field. At least the trip was doing Grovater some good. He'd taken quite keenly to visiting with the Company's men, whether it be standing in a pasture or at a campfire.

Mutter took slow steps to the covered pail that hung from an iron hook at the front of the wagon, then set the pail on the corner of the table.

"Thank you." Anna lifted the lid and peeked inside. "The butter set up nicely."

"Why wouldn't it be churned? It's a very bumpy, winding road."

As Anna spread butter on three chunks of crusty roggenbrot, she couldn't help but wonder if her mother was referring to the road or her life. Both were true enough. Mutter hadn't had an easy path. Her husband left her with two little ones. Her son died in the war. For as long as Anna could remember, Mutter's constitution had been as unpredictable as the random twists and turns of the road they traveled today.

When Mutter sank onto the chair, Anna set the bread on the cutting board and met Mutter's gaze. "Are you feeling all right?"

"I'm fine." Mutter sighed, her thin shoulders sagging. "Just tired, very tired."

Anna wished that was all that was troubling her.

"I am wrong to complain, dear." Mutter brushed her graying brown hair off her face and into her faded bonnet, and glanced toward the Wainwrights' wagon. "That poor Danish girl is making this trip with failing eyesight and a child to tend. Doesn't even have Elsa Brantenberg, Mrs. Heinrich now, here to help her with all this work."

"Maren Wainwright." Mutter had already quit going to the quilting circle when Maren joined, but Anna had introduced them at the last caravan meeting in Saint Charles. "Hattie and Bette Pemberton are lending Maren a hand. And Gabi is almost five now and a proud helper." Someone here needed to focus on the positive aspects of the trip. "I sliced a block of cheese for her this morning."