Gwen stopped, and Deb could actually see her thinking.
“We were to ride about another ten days on that highland trail.” Gwen looked at Trace. “What town would you say that leads to?”
Trace shrugged. “Sacramento is more straight west, not sure what’s to the south.”
“It was definitely in California. The town was named Fern, I think,” Gwen said. “No, that doesn’t sound quite right. Abe said his brother Cameron had a nice payout when he left the cavalry, and his sister earned good money too and had saved it faithfully. They homesteaded some farmland with plans for Abe to get more.”
Trace said, “Never heard of Fern, California. But then I’ve hardly left this area before our cattle drive to Sacramento.”
“I think it was Fen, not Fern. Fen Canyon,” Deb said uncertainly.
Gwen brightened. “Fen Canyon. That sounds more like it.”
Utah said, “I heard tell of a Fenler Canyon. Could that be it?”
Deb and Gwen looked at each other.
Finally Gwen said, “I think that’s right. I remember. I saw it on an envelope. I think that’s the only time I even heard the Scotts speak of the town. But then we’d never planned to stay with them so maybe I just didn’t listen. They mentioned grandparents, too. I’ll send two letters. Deb and I were heading on to San Francisco to start a newspaper.”
“A newspaper? Two women?” Utah sounded well and truly shocked.
Deb rather enjoyed surprising people.
“I worked at my pa’s newspaper back east, and by the time he died, I was running it myself.” Truth was, she’d run it herself ever since Ma died, but she wouldn’t bother to talk about that right now.
“I don’t have a printing press. We sold everything when we headed west.” For no money, because Pa had creditors who took nearly every penny. Another thing Deb didn’t bother to mention.
“But I hope to get a job working at a newspaper and save up until I can afford to start my own,” Deb said. “Can Adam buy more paper when he’s in Dismal? I have a few coins, so I can pay for it.”
The Scotts had a cache of money, but that belonged to the children. “I should write letters to the families of all the people who died. I know their names and where they’re from. I’m not sure if they had kin back home, but I found a few things among the wagons that can be sent back if we can find out where to send them. And there are some salvaged papers I have only flipped through while looking for Cameron Scott’s address. Even if the letters don’t go out until spring, they need to be mailed at some point.”
“I’ll pick up paper and another pencil, Miss Deb.” Adam ate his pancake, sitting on the side of a bed. There was a table in the little cabin, but Gwen had used it for a work place, and a bowl of pancake batter sat there as she poured new cakes onto the skillet, red hot in the fireplace, flipped them, and then served them. The men had been roughing it here. Deb wondered if Utah knew how to build furniture as well as houses. She’d certainly appreciate a chair to go with the table.
She decided to wait and ask after the house was done for fear she’d sound unappreciative, when in fact she was anything but. She knew full well she owed these men her very life.
Deb wrote the letter to Cameron Scott, hopefully in Fenler Canyon, California, with as much compassion as she could muster. She hated to put the words on paper telling of Abe and Delia’s deaths. She’d worked with words all her life and did her best to be as kind as possible in her limited space. Trace got a second piece of paper he’d found in his cellar, to send a letter to Edmond and Florence Chilton, Ronnie’s grandparents. She hoped telling the man and the grandparents that the two children had survived would soften the blow.
She handed the letter to Adam, with Cameron Scott’s name and Fenler Canyon as an address. But since the mountain trails were about to snow closed, it wouldn’t matter if the letters got out or not. No one was getting in here to collect the children before spring.
With a pang, Deb looked at the little ones and knew that if it didn’t work out for Cameron Scott or the Chiltons to come, she’d gladly take the children. She and Gwen could raise them as their own.
Deb got to work feeding the men. As she fried and served, she was reminded that one thing she vowed to herself when she’d come west was that she was going to work for herself. After years of working for Pa, she had promised herself that she’d work to build something for her and Gwen rather than serving an ungrateful man. It bothered her a bit to be right back to serving.
“Miss Deb, Miss Gwen,” Adam said, handing Deb his plate, “I will try and buy more plates while I’m in town, too. It ain’t right for you to work so hard feeding us and then have to wait until we’re finished to eat yourself. I thank you for your gracious patience. You’re fine women. And it was as fine a meal as I’ve had since I sat at my ma’s table and that’s near ten years ago.”
His voice almost throbbed with sincerity, and his eyes shone with gratitude. “Now I’d best get on the trail.”
The kind words were so sweet to her ears, Deb took a moment to fight down tears. When she was able, she found the money in her bag. “Can you buy some fabric too, Adam? I think this is enough money. We don’t have a stitch of clothing beyond what’s on our backs, though there might be a piece or two of clothing in my bag for Ronnie, and there was one spare diaper. We’ll need the diaper cloth more than anything else. Flannel
