The Journey Home

“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.”