The Journey Home

Chapter Two

The man scrambled to his feet. Charlotte stood, as well, feeling as if every pore held a spoonful of irritating sandy dirt. Oh, for a good bath. Oh, for a quenching drink of water. For three days she’d metered out the last drops of her supply. Apart from a few swallows this morning, she’d had only the warm drink from the man’s canteen.

She swiped at her hair, scrubbed the dirty rag over her face, shook her skirts and coughed.

The man slapped his hat against his leg and filled the air with a swirl of dust. She coughed again.

“Sorry,” he muttered. “I should have waited until I was outside.”

Charlotte threw open the door and choked on the thick air. The floor lay buried in several inches of dirt. The outside door must have ripped from its hinges. She closed the solid wood, blocking her only escape route. “Person can’t breathe out there yet.”

She kept her face toward the knob, thought of ushering the man out to his destiny. But his remark about the charity of a Christian woman still echoed in her head. She’d give him a few more minutes, then she’d rush him on his way. Presuming he’d allow her to rush him. If he didn’t…No point in threatening him with the rifle. Anger scalded her throat. If Harry had had the decency to leave her a bullet or two, she’d have had no trouble getting rid of the man in the first place.

Maybe she could appeal to his decency. After all, his parents were white folk and religious, so surely the man had been raised to know right from wrong. Of course the same could be said about a lot of men who nevertheless chose wrong. The thought erased every vestige of calmness.

She heard him move about the room and stiffened as he approached her bedroll. Harry and Nellie had left her bedding and enough food for a week. How very kind of them.

“Where are you headed from here, Mr. Douglas?” She hoped he’d hear the urgent suggestion in her words.

“Kody, if you please. I’m going wherever I can find work.”

She ignored his suggestion she call him Kody. Father or son, made never mind to her. He’d soon be riding the tail of the wind out of her house and out of her life. Couldn’t be too soon to suit her. “I expect you’ll have to ride some to find work. It’s mighty scarce around here. Lots of folks pulling up stakes and moving on.”

“My sentiments exactly. It’s an unfriendly country in my opinion.”

At the harshness of his voice, she turned to study him. The typical angular high cheekbones, lips pulled into a hard, unyielding line that spoke of determination. “I take it you’ve been as disappointed in life as many of the folks around here.” Harry and Nellie among them.

He faced her full on, his black eyes steady as if measuring her.

She met his gaze, knew they both had secrets bringing them to this place, this time and this house. She believed God cared for her, controlled every aspect of her life. Didn’t the Scripture say all the days of her life were written before one of them came to be? But right now she struggled to believe it. How could God have planned for the country to blow from county to county? For Harry to abandon her? For a half-breed to be in her house? But she was being overly dramatic. Harry would send for her as he’d promised. He’d taken care of her since she was ten and their mother grew too ill to manage on her own. He’d provided her with a safe home since Mother died, as he’d sworn he would—apart from that time Nellie had demanded she be sent away. Charlotte shuddered. She would never forget her subsequent ordeal at the Appleby home.

Anxious to escape the past as much as the present, she opened the door again, breathing shallowly as she picked her way over the dirt on the floor.

Mr. Douglas followed close on her heels, whistling when he saw the damage in the front room. “Looks like your brother could plant a garden in here.”

She ignored his comment. Her brother wouldn’t be planting a garden anywhere near this house. And God willing, she’d shake off the dust of the place this very afternoon and be on her way to join him. Out of habit and desperation, she went to the window to see if Mr. Henderson rode her way with the promised letter from Harry. But she saw only the changed landscape—mounds of dirt in new places, fields scraped clean in others. A desolate, angry scene.

“Lady, could you point me to your well? I’d like to wash this storm off my face and refill my canteen.”

She turned away from the hopeless view. His face looked as if he’d scrubbed in garden soil. She touched her cheeks, guessing she looked no better. “Well’s out there.” She pointed to the little shack Harry had built to store tools in.

Kody tromped into the kitchen.

Charlotte followed and screamed as she came face-to-face with a paint horse.

“This is Sam,” Kody said. “He won’t hurt you.”

“You brought your horse into my house?” She sniffed. “Phew. He’s stunk up the place like a barn.”

Kody shook his head. “Sam, I told you not to do that in here.”

The horse whinnied.

Charlotte thought the sound as unbelieving as her thoughts. “A horse answers the call of nature without regard to his surroundings.”

“I’ll clean it up.”

“You certainly will.” And she’d scoop out the dirt with the only tools Harry had left her—a tin can and a big spoon.

Kody grabbed the empty bucket from the old worktable left behind because it was nailed to the wall. He headed for the well. He had the decency to lead his horse outside with him and kick out the pile of manure as he left.

Charlotte stood at the door, praying for a miracle. God had brought water from a rock for His children in the desert. Didn’t seem like water from the well ought to be any different. And while He was providing miracles, maybe He could see fit to send a message from Harry and something to send Mr. Douglas hightailing it out of here.

Kody walked with a combination of roll and stride. He grabbed the handle and pumped up and down. The squealing protest caused Sam to sidle away and whinny. After several unproductive pumps, Kody called, “Well appears to be dry.”

Charlotte sighed. Hoping against hope proved futile yet again. She couldn’t imagine what lesson God meant for her to learn. “I know.”

He sauntered over. “Been dry long?”

She shrugged. He didn’t need to know the particulars, but they’d been going to Lother’s for water for several months.

Kody shook the bone-dry pail. “Where was your brother getting water?”

Charlotte stared across the pasture indicating a well-worn path. In the distance she could make out the chimney, the roof of the barn and the lifesaving windmill. “Lother Gross has been kind enough to let us use his well.”

Kody touched his cheek with a brown finger. “I’d like to wash and refill my canteen.” He waited, perhaps expecting her to lead the way.

Why couldn’t the man take a hint? Desperately she sought for a way to persuade him to leave. The gun was out unless she used it as a club, and she didn’t much fancy the idea of attacking him, knew she didn’t stand a chance against his size and strength. She looked about the kitchen, hoping for some solution, finding nothing but emptiness and disappointment. Feeling his patient waiting, she sighed and turned back to face him.

“You could go across to the neighbor’s and get water.” She nodded toward Lother’s place. “I’ll stay here and tidy up a bit.” If he got so much as halfway across the pasture, she’d figure out some way to bar the broken door.

Kody’s eyes narrowed.

She crossed her arms over her chest as if she hoped to protect her thoughts from his piercing gaze.

The man looked at the empty bucket, gave a long, considering study of the useless pump, then stared across the pasture. “How long you been out of water?” he asked, his voice soft but knowing.

Again she shrugged. Her problems were no concern of his.

He nodded toward the path. “Why don’t you go get some?”

Her stomach lurched toward her heart, making her swallow hard to control the way her fear mixed with nausea. She didn’t want Lother to know she was alone and had waited until dark two nights ago to slip over. She reasoned she could fill a pail and hurry away without detection. But his dog set up a din fit to wake the dead. Charlotte had tried to calm him. “It’s me. You know me.” She’d kept her voice low, but the dog wouldn’t let up. Coming around after dark was a strange occurrence, not acceptable to the dog’s sense of guard duty.

Charlotte had been forced to retreat without water in order to avoid being confronted by Lother.

“How long you been here alone?”

She pressed her lips together and jutted out her chin.

Kody adjusted his black cowboy hat and leaned back on worn cowboy boots. His gray shirt, laced at the neck, had seen better days. His pants were equally shabby. “Why ain’t you walked out of this place?” He shook his head. “I don’t get it. You’ve got the guts to face me with an empty gun, yet you hide in this derelict house without water.”

How dare he? “What gives you the right—”

“Lady, despite the color of my skin—”

Which, Charlotte thought, had nothing to do with this whole conversation.

He continued in the same vein. “And the uncertainty of my heritage—”

One certainty he’d overlooked: this was none of his business. “I don’t recall asking for your help,” she said.

“I’ve been raised to care about the welfare of others.”

That stumped her. How could she argue with something she also believed?

He continued. “You’re out of water. And you’re alone. It just plain ain’t safe for a woman to be alone with so many drifters around.”

“My brother is sending for me to join him.”

“So you’re going to sit here and wait?”

Why did he goad her? His words edged past her patience, her faith that Harry would indeed send for her, and dug cruel, angry fingers into her spine. “No, I’m not waiting.” Why had she sat here for a whole week expecting the Hendersons to deliver a message? She spun on her heel and marched back to the dusty bedroom, threw her few things into the old carpetbag Nellie had left in the closet and rolled up the little bit of bedding. She stomped from the room, paused and grabbed the rifle. Not much good to her, but she’d return it to Harry, and when she did, she’d let him feel the sharp edge of her tongue for leaving her in such a position. Of course, she wouldn’t. She wouldn’t risk making him regret opening his home to her.

Ignoring the crunch of dirt under her shoes, she hurried out the door, gave one goodbye glance over her shoulder at the interior of the house and headed down the road. There was nothing for her here and no reason to stay. Besides, surely the Hendersons had a message by now and simply hadn’t had time to deliver it.

Kody trailed after her.

She paused to glower at him. “Why are you following me?”

“Just wondering where you’re going.”

“To the neighbor. They might have a message from my brother, though I fail to see how it’s any of your concern.”

“I’ll see you to this neighbor. My ma would have my hide if I didn’t make sure you were safe.” He pushed his hat farther back on his head and nodded as if she’d agreed.

“I’m quite capable of looking after myself. I don’t need you keeping an eye on me. Go away.” She steamed down the road, dragging her bundles and the rifle.

“I’m going the same direction. Why don’t you let me put your things on Sam?”

She stubbornly plowed onward. When he sighed and fell in step with her, she paused. “Seems a shame to be wasting your time. You might find a job if you hurry to town.”

“I ain’t leaving you until I know you’re safe. Ma would have my—”

“She’d have your hide. So you said.”

“Are you always so contrary?”

“I’m the most compliant of persons.” Except right now. “Normally.”

“So it’s just me.”

“Yup. Now why don’t you get on your horse and ride away?” She had never been sharp with anyone in her life, but this man prodded her the wrong way. “Sorry for being rude,” she mumbled.

“I’m used to it.”

Although he said this in a mild way, his words stopped her in her tracks and she turned to stare at him. His dark eyes gave nothing away. Nor did his blank expression, but she understood he meant he faced unkind comments because of his race.

“Huh,” she finally said, unwilling to point out that not everyone felt the same way. She couldn’t say how she felt about the man, but it had nothing to do with his race and everything to do with the way he got under her skin like a long, unyielding sliver. She hurried on, not surprised when he walked beside her.

“How far to this neighbor?”

“The Hendersons. Three miles. Big Rock is a few miles farther.” She hoped the suggestion he might like to hurry in that direction would be clear.

“Yup.”

The weight of the bag made her shoulder ache. The bedroll kept slipping from her arms and the rifle banged against her shins, but she paid them scant attention. She was used to working hard without complaining.

Kody caught the bedroll just as it threatened to escape her grasp.

“That’s mine,” she protested.

“So it is.” He tied it to the saddle and reached for the rifle.

“That’s Harry’s and I intend to see he gets it back.”

“Harry would be your brother?”

“Of course.”

“Well, when you give it back, I suggest you do it like this.” He waved the gun as if hitting someone with it, then rubbed his head, moaning.

Despite the fact she didn’t want Kody to tie her meager belongings to the saddle, despite the fact she didn’t want him accompanying her, she laughed because his action so accurately echoed her sentiments. Though she would never do it. No. She’d hand the gun to him meekly and promise to work hard and not argue with Nellie. She’d done so over and over just to make sure Harry wouldn’t send her away. Like he’d done when she was twelve. How grateful she’d been when he took her back. Only with Harry did she have a safe place.

Remembering sucked away the last drops of anger, so when Kody reached for the carpetbag, she handed it to him without argument. And submissively followed him down the road.

A few minutes later, Charlotte pointed to the low house. “The Hendersons’.” They paused at the turnoff. She reached for her things. “Thank you for your company.”

Kody touched the brim of his hat and gave a slight nod. “My pleasure.”

She wondered if he mocked her. She shrugged. What did it matter? She marched to the door and knocked. Mr. Henderson opened. Mrs. Henderson stood at his shoulder, holding the new baby. “I’ve come to see if there’s any word from Harry.”

Two older people stood by, watching curiously. The three other children eyed Charlotte.

“No, nothing. I would have ridden over if I heard anything. Haven’t been to town for a couple of days. Not since I picked up my folks. They’ve come to help.”

“Perhaps I could wait here.” She knew as soon as she spoke it wasn’t possible. They must be crowded to the rafters already. “Never mind. I’ll go to town and see if there’s a message waiting.” Please, God, let there be some word. Her silent prayer grew urgent. What would she do if there wasn’t?

Chapter Three

Kody waited at the side of the road. He didn’t really want to help her, but if he ever saw Ma again he wanted to be able to face her without any guilty deed to hide. She’d raised him to see and respond to the needs of others. He only wished others had been taught the same and saw past his heritage to his heart. But it no longer mattered. He had a destination—northern Canada. He’d heard a man could get cheap land without the uncertain benefit of neighbors. It sounded like his kind of place.

He settled back out of sight behind a low drift of soil and watched as Charlotte made her way to the door and knocked.

A young man and woman opened to her. Kody strained but couldn’t make out any words until the man nodded. “Certainly there might be something by now. I’m sorry I can’t take you.”

Charlotte murmured a reply, then turned and plodded back to the road. “We can fill the canteen and clean up.”

He handed it to her. “You go ahead. I’ll wait here.”

“I thought you were anxious to wash.”

He studied the house, the door now closed. “Your friends won’t understand your keeping company with me.”

“I’m not keeping company with anyone.”

He didn’t make a move toward the nearby water trough.

“They do understand the need for water.”

Sam whinnied and nudged Kody. He could ignore his own thirst, but it hardly seemed fair to deprive Sam of a drink. “Lead on,” he murmured, a sense of exposure causing him to put the horse between him and the windows of the house.

They both washed, then Kody pumped fresh water for them to drink. He filled the canteen and waited as Sam drank his fill.

Charlotte wiped the back of her hand across her mouth and smoothed her damp hair off her face. “I’m going on to town. Harry must have sent word by now.” She hitched the rifle over her shoulder, tried to tuck the unwieldy bedroll under one arm as she struggled to carry the bulky bag in the other. Then she resolutely headed down the road.

Knowing he had to do what Ma would consider the right thing, Kody fell in beside her. “How far is it, did you say?”

“Didn’t.” She paused. “Five miles.”

He swallowed a groan. He wasn’t used to walking and had already used his feet for three miles while Sam plodded along with an empty saddle. “Seems a shame for Sam to be doing nothing.”

“No need for you to go out of your way.”

“I hadn’t planned on going to Big Rock. Hadn’t not planned it, either. I’m only passing through on the way to something better. Picking up work where I can find it on my way north.”

“What’s up north?”

“Canada and a new life.” As soon as he earned some more money he’d be ready to start over. “Hear you can find places where you never see another soul for months at a time.”

“I’m here to tell you it can get might lonely not seeing another person.” She shot him a look so full of disgust he chuckled.

He understood her response to being alone differed vastly from his own reasons for wanting it, so he didn’t say anything.

They walked onward a few steps.

“Seems a shame for Sam to be doing nothing.”

“No one asked you to accompany me. Get on and ride for Canada.”

He snorted. “My ma would give me a real dressing-down if she heard I’d done such an ungentlemanly thing.”

“Your ma isn’t going to know, now is she?”

“You can never be sure.” His voice rang with a mixture of regret and pride.

She laughed. The sound made his insides happy. “I’ve heard of mothers having eyes in the back of their heads,” she said. “But this is the first time I heard someone suspect their mother of having long-distance sight.”

He smiled, liking how it eased his mind. He’d gotten too used to scowling. “It ain’t so much she’ll see me do something, but if I ever see her again, she’ll see it in my eyes.” He’d never been able to fool Ma. She seemed to see clear through him. Which was one more reason to stay away from Favor, and Ma and Pa and all that lay in that direction.

Charlotte stopped and considered him. “Do you know how fortunate you are to have such a mother? If I had such a mother I’d never leave her. What are you doing going to Canada to be alone?”

“I have my reasons. Now save me from my mother’s displeasure and ride Sam to town.”

She studied him for a long moment. His skin tightened at the way she looked at him. He saw the fear and caution in her eyes, knew she saw him as a redskin, someone to avoid.

With a hitch of one shoulder to persuade the rifle to stay in place, she turned her steps back down the road.

He’d met this kind of resistance before and sighed loudly enough for her to pause. “My horse ain’t Indian. Or half-breed.”

Her shoulders pulled up inside her faded brown dress. He could practically see her vibrate, but didn’t know if from anger or fear or something else. She let her bag droop to her feet and turned to face him. The sky lightened, with the brassy sun poking through the remnants of the dust storm, and he saw her eyes were light brown.

“Are you accusing me of prejudice?” she demanded, her voice soft, her eyes flashing with challenge as if daring him to think it, let alone say it.

Could she really be free of such? His heart reared and bucked as long-buried hopes and dreams came to life—acceptance, belonging, so many things. He shoved them away, barricaded them from his thoughts. Best he be remembering who he was, how others saw him. “Nope. Just stating a fact.”

“I couldn’t care less if your horse is Indian, black, pink or stubborn as a mule. I prefer to walk.” She spun around and marched down the road, sidling sideways to capture the escaping bedroll with her hip.

He grinned at her attempts to manage her belongings. For a moment he stared after her. She said words of acceptance, but he doubted she meant them as anything more than argumentative.

He followed, leading Sam. “He ain’t stubborn.”

“How nice for you.” She continued, unconcerned by the wind tugging at her skirt and dragging her coppery-brown hair back from her forehead, undaunted by her belongings banging against her shins with every step.

Mule-headed woman. She made him want to prod at her more, see what would surface. He tried to think of a way to challenge her insistence on walking, wanting to somehow force her to state her opinion on his race. No doubt she had the same reservations as—ha, ha, good word choice. Again, his mother would have been amused. The same reservations about Indians most white folk. “My mother would want you to ride,” he murmured.

Finally she nodded. “For your mother.” He secured her things to the saddle, then she tucked her skirt around her legs and used his cupped hands to assist herself onto Sam’s back. “I’ll ride partway. You can ride the rest.”

He didn’t argue, but nothing under the brassy sun would allow him to ride while a white woman walked at his side. He could just imagine the comments if anyone saw them.

“Seems everyone wants a new life,” she said from her perch on Sam’s back. “Except me. I’ve been quite happy with the one God provided.”

He wondered how being abandoned made her happy or caused her to think God had provided for her. “How long since your brother left?”

She darted him a look, then shifted her gaze to some distant point down the road. “Near a week.”

Kody had learned to let insults roll off him without response. In fact, he’d learned to ignore lots of things in life. But a week? Well, he figured she had to be made of pretty strong stuff to still be fighting.

They walked on for the distance of half a mile until Charlotte broke the silence. “Why are you so anxious to go where you never see another soul?”

Kody didn’t answer at first. Wasn’t sure how to. This woman had a family. Sure, her brother had left her behind. Maybe with the best of intentions. But she expected him to welcome her into his new home. What would she know about how it felt to be a half-breed? How it affected everyone and everything in his world? How people expected him to be a wild Indian? At times his frustration made him want to act like one. “Sometimes a man likes to be alone.”

“Don’t you feel the need to have someone to talk to?”

Always. Try as he might, he never got used to keeping his thoughts inside himself. “Sam here is a good listener.”

She laughed, a sound like water rippling over rocks. A sound trickling through his senses like someone brushing his insides with a feather. “If you want only listening you could park a rock on your saddle and talk to it. Seems to me a person wants a bit more. Someone to agree or argue. Someone to acknowledge your presence.”