“They remind me of Jonah, but he didn’t have a brother that close to his age,” Forsythia said.
“So he teased me.” Lilac shook her head. “And I played with him the most.” Their mother had often reprimanded her youngest daughter for her unladylike behavior. “I remember wishing I could wear pants like Jonah did. I didn’t think it fair then, and I still don’t.” She rode up next to Lark. “Are pants easier than skirts?”
“Easier? Indeed. But wool pants scratch the insides of your legs. Mighty uncomfortable.” Lark took off her hat and wiped the sweat from her forehead, then put it back on. “I like this hat better’n sunbonnets too.”
“If I had my way, I’d wear a wide-brimmed hat like yours but made of straw. Let the air in better.” Lilac untied her sunbonnet and hooked it over the saddle horn. “Any idea how close we are to Columbus? We can pick up the National Road there, and that’ll take us to Independence.”
“I’ll ask at the next town. I’ve been thinkin’. I hate to go through towns all together, just in case Deacon Wiesel or Ringwald come looking for us. So I figure you can head north and circle around the town, and that way we won’t have a horse along either. Sythia, you huddle down in the wagon under a blanket. Then we’ll just be a man and his wife heading west. I’ll stop and chat if necessary. All agree?”
Lilac stared at her eldest sister. “You amaze me. I’d have never thought about things like that at all.”
When they approached the village where Lark had traded the venison, they put her plan into action. Within a short while, they relaxed on the other side of the town. No one had noticed them or paid attention. Forsythia folded up the blanket and climbed out of the back of the wagon.
“That was getting plenty hot.” She pushed her sunbonnet off her head and let it hang down her back. “Ah, that breeze is a gift. You think the gambler would really ride west after us?” Just the thought of someone trailing them made her shudder.
“I have no idea. He seemed mighty prosperous, and the only one of us who might know is back home. And if ever I hear he’s been back to the saloon, I swear . . .”
Assuming they ever saw their brothers again in this life.
7
The days fell into a pattern as they plodded south and west. Their plan to join up with a western-bound wagon train at times seemed beyond reach. How late they had started pressed on Lark’s shoulders. Late May already, and wagon trains started heading west in late April, from what she understood. Was it foolhardy to think they could reach Independence before all the wagon trains had left?
One night when they had finished eating and were sitting around the fire, Del stopped digging a stick into the dirt and looked around at her sisters. “What if we asked around if there are any places for sale in some appealing spot on the way to Independence? I mean, we’ve not bought land or committed to living in Nebraska.”
“What if Ringwald is tracking us? We’re only a couple hundred miles from home.” Lark shook her head. “We’ll ask at the post office in Columbus if there is a letter from Anders. He and I decided he’d send it to the Jimson family. That way if the gambler comes lookin’, there’ll be no trace of us.”
Forsythia looked up from her mending. “You’re really worried about him, aren’t you?”
“He didn’t like losing, and that was a lot of money.”
“Some folks will die to get even. I say we keep going.” Lilac stood. “Let’s play some music.” She returned from the wagon with the guitar and the mouth organ.
Forsythia took the guitar and tightened the strings. “Give me a C.”
Lark blew the proper note. When they were tuned together, Forsythia strummed a few chords, and her fingers set to picking. Their mother’s favorite hymn wrapped around them. By the end of “Abide with Me,” they were all wiping their eyes.
“It makes me miss her all the more.” Lark sniffed. “How about something livelier?”
Forsythia set her foot tapping, and “Turkey in the Straw” circled the wagon.
“Now, that was mighty fine.” A male voice came from the trees along the creek.
Oh, Lord, protect us. Lark played the mouth organ with one hand and picked up the rifle at her side with the other. “You’re welcome to join us.” She made sure to keep her voice low like a man’s.
Forsythia started picking again, her fingers wandering over “Jesus, Lover of My Soul.”
“My mama used to sing that ever’ night.”
“The coffee’s still hot.”
“I hate to bother you. . . .”
“No bother.” Lark stared into the dark. Like an apparition, a form separated from a tree and shuffled into the firelight. “I’d appreciate it if you leave your gun behind.”
“Not loaded. No shells.”
She raised hers. “Just lay it down, then.”
He slowly did as she said and stood again. “Your music woke me up. Thought I’d died and gone to heaven.”
“You live around here?”
“No, I’m on my way home.”
“From the war?”
He nodded.
Lilac shifted beside Lark and whispered, “Can I pour him some coffee?”
Lark nodded. “How long since you’ve eaten?”
“I got a squirrel yesterday. Last of my ammunition.”
Del stood and moved to the wagon. “Our biscuits are like rocks, but they’re filling.”
“I didn’t come for food. Just wanted to tell you thanks for the music.” He took the cup Lilac handed him. “Thank you, ma’am.”
“Sit a spell,” Lark said. Lord, please keep me from making a mistake here. Set up a hedge of protection around us.
He crossed his legs and lowered himself to the ground on the other side of the fire, dipping the biscuit in his coffee. “Thank you.”
He has manners and that softness of speech, neither north nor south. Who is he under all that grime, both body and clothes near worn out? Lark studied him from under her
