“Where’s home?” she finally asked.
“We had a fine farm in West Virginia, but there’s nothin’ left of it. A neighbor said one side or the other burned it to the ground. I think my folks died of broken hearts at all the carnage. My younger sister married a man from Illinois, and no one had heard from her since. My two brothers both died in the battles, one in blue and one in gray. I have no idea where my older sister is. A mining company had taken over the land by the time I got back. I was the firstborn and spent the last months of the war in a prison camp. Thought I would never live through that. But when they opened the gates, I staggered out and headed for home.”
“To find nothing there.” How horrible that would be. Lark knew about prison camps, having rescued her older brother from one. But this was not the time to bring that up.
“So where you bound for now?” Lilac asked.
The man didn’t answer. Forsythia kept picking out hymns on the guitar, a shawl of beauty and comfort that seemed to wrap around them all. The fire sent up sparks when Lilac jabbed a stick in the coals that lay glowing in shades of vermilion, gold, and white hot.
“Sir, where did you learn to play the harmonica like that?” The stranger wrapped his hands around his coffee cup. “Nothin’ can sound as lonesome as a hobo harp.”
“From our pa. Our folks taught us that music expanded the mind and soothed the soul.”
“What else do you play?”
“Oh, piano, fiddle, harmonica . . . whatever we put our mind to. Or have at hand.” Lark felt a yawn coming on. “Mornin’ comes before dawn, so we better be turning in. Let’s close with Ma’s favorite.”
Forsythia played a few chords and moved into the beginning. They all sang, full harmony holding up an ocean of sadness, though Lark kept her contralto soft to keep from giving anything away. When a baritone blended in, Lark switched to her harmonica, and they finished after a couple of verses, sliding into humming.
As usual, Lark closed with a blessing. “And now may the Lord bless us and keep us. May He lift up His countenance upon us, and give us His peace.” And protection, she added in her mind.
“Thank you for giving a wanderer a cup of coffee, biscuit, and this mighty fine taste of home.” The stranger rose and tossed the dregs from his cup into the fire. He tipped his hat to all of them and faded into the darkness.
The sisters stood, and each fell to her evening chores. Tonight Forsythia was on duty first, Del on the middle watch, and Lilac the final.
“Do you think he’ll still be here in the morning?” Lilac asked.
“We don’t even know his name,” Lark said.
“Nor he ours. But he did call you sir, so you played your role well.” Del moved the coals around so none were touching. The coffeepot sat off to the side, ready to be filled again first thing.
Lark checked on the hobbled oxen and horse before she turned in. The oxen were lying down, chewing their cuds, and Starbright nuzzled her chest. She palmed a bit of biscuit she’d stored in her pocket. “You keep watch now, you hear? Let me know if some stranger comes in the night.”
“All is well?” Forsythia asked when Lark returned to the wagon.
“So far. You keep that rifle in hand and wake me if you hear anything unusual.”
“I will. You get some rest.”
Lark fell asleep praying for the man with no name, for both protection from him and for him. Mostly she woke to any unusual noises, so when Lilac woke her just before dawn, she stretched and felt like she’d had a good night’s rest for a change.
“All is well,” Lilac said.
“Glad to hear that.” Lark pulled on her boots and clapped her hat back on her head. Her hair was getting longer again after a few weeks on the trail, but then, that soldier had his tied back with a strip of leather.
They were on the road again about an hour later, just as the last star faded overhead.
“No sign of our visitor?” Lark was walking beside the wagon.
“None. I’m not sure if I’m grateful or sorry.” Del let her sunbonnet fall down her back so she could feel the morning breezes. She’d given up keeping her face and arms anything but tan. “He seemed so sad.” She leaned forward and patted Starbright’s neck.
“He appreciated good music, so I guess we blessed him too. I know playing like that sure relaxes me.” But I wish we had learned his name. Look at all he’d endured. Made it out of a prison camp only to find the home he’d dreamed of was no more. Why didn’t he stay there to rebuild?
“Lark,” Lilac asked from the wagon seat, “do you ever dream of what lies ahead of us, the place that we’ll find in Nebraska?”
“Maybe some, but mostly I think about the next hours, miles, where we’ll find a good place for the night. Having enough food, keeping us safe.” Details, numbers, and plans ran through her mind so fast she had to limit her concentration. “So far, we’ve done well.”
“I know. I thank our Father every night and whenever I think of Him during the day for the way He is protecting us and providing what we need.”
“I’ve started a supply list for when we find a store again.” Del tipped her head back, the better to feel the breeze. “I find myself thinking of home rather than what’s ahead. I watered the roses and apple tree starts this morning.”
“We should send someone ahead to scout for us,” Lark said.
Lilac, always eager to be on horseback, traded places with Del and rode on ahead.
As the sun inched farther along its daily arc, both the
