CH 1-10

Summary

Linda’s husband has been dead for just under a year, she is falling apart, the ranch is falling apart. With pressure from the community to remarry, she decides to leave and go west. Her husband’s friend though has other ideas and despite her protests, he follows her. Butting heads with him is the last thing she needs but it seems to be all they do, their arguments running in circles. Tonados, bandits and their fights, will they reach their destiyin one piece?

Prologue

Bayside, North Carolina 1849

The cool breeze caressed Linda Harper’s skin, relieving it of the kitchen’s heat. Instead of being relieved, she shivered, her eyes darting to the window as a frown marred her smooth brow for a moment.

“Silliness,” she whispered into the wind as if it would change anything.

With a shake of her head, she focused on the gentle wind as it brought the scent of the sea, an ever-present mainstay even as far from the coast as the ranch was. She took a moment to breathe it in, to appreciate how it added to the tranquility of the sunlit day.

Shouldn’t she be enjoying it instead of the dark clawing sensation gnawing at the pit of her stomach? The other time she had felt like this…no, she would not think about it. Those memories were best buried in the past.

With another calming breath, she concentrated on what was at hand. The kitchen’s rustic charm contrasted nicely with the quotidian yet wild beauty of the rolling land outside. Wooden beams crisscrossed the ceiling and the scent of freshly baked bread mingled with the salty sea air. She glanced out the window again to where the sun cast a golden glow over the sprawling fields of their modest ranch.

A smile graced her lips, her striking green eyes taking in what she could see of the land her husband lavished so much care upon. Frank would soon be coming in for lunch, his rugged face wreathed in that smile that crinkled the corners of his clear blue gaze. She could almost hear his laughter, a sound that always brought warmth to her heart.

Just the thought of him lifted the strange mood she was in and brought a warm glow to her heart. From the moment she met him, there had never been another man for her. Linda was sixteen at the time, with Frank fifteen years her senior. She laughed as she remembered the lengths she had gone through to draw his attention.

She had thought of herself as a woman, raising her younger brother and running their household. Nick, their older brother, was already out in the world working to send them money. So there was no one there to argue against her desire to marry Frank. Looking back, she remembered how untidy her chestnut curls had regularly been, how she had been all skin and bones. Not that she was any curvier now, but she had matured into a lovely trimness since then.

Her eyes fell onto the fields, a testament to Frank’s hard work and dedication. Each row of crops stood tall and healthy, a reflection of his meticulous attention and love for the land. Linda admired the way he poured his soul into the ranch, transforming it into a thriving oasis.

As she continued to set the table, she thought about the life they had built together. It hadn’t always been easy; the people of Bayside had looked askance at them when, at the young age of eighteen, she had married him. Most had called him shameful, but she and Frank hadn’t minded them. Through it all, moments like these made it worthwhile. The simple pleasures of a shared meal, the comfort of each other’s company, and the beauty of their surroundings were treasures she held dear.

Their afternoons were almost always the same. The sound of the back door opening would signal Frank’s arrival. He would step into the kitchen, his presence filling the room with a sense of calm and strength. “Hey there, pretty lady,” he would say, his voice warm and familiar.

“Hello yourself, good sir,” Linda would reply, her smile wide and full of the love that had never faded in all their twelve years together. “Lunch is almost ready.”

Frank invariably crossed the room to wrap her in a gentle embrace, his hands rough from work but his touch tender. “It smells amazing,” he would say, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I can’t wait to dig in.”

Opening eyes she hadn’t realized were closed, her smile widened as her hand went into one of the pockets in her apron. Her fingers closed around the flower he had given her just that morning. He knew she loved the scent of the lavender and always made sure she had a fresh one in her apron pocket.

Linda’s apron was a cherished piece, a gift passed down from her grandmother. It was made of sturdy, cream-colored linen, with delicate embroidery along the edges. The intricate patterns depicted scenes of the sea—waves crashing against rocks, seagulls soaring in the sky, and tiny sailboats bobbing on the water. Each stitch told a story, a testament to her grandmother’s skill and love.

The apron had deep pockets, perfect for holding small kitchen tools and the wildflower. Despite its age, the fabric was soft and comforting. As Linda tidied the apron, she felt a sense of continuity and tradition. A grounding she was surprised to desperately need just then.

As she set the last plate on the table, her mind wandered to the stories her mother used to tell about the sea. Linda smiled, feeling a pang of nostalgia. She couldn’t imagine a life without the sea’s whisper in the background, even if it was just a distant echo here.

Looking at the clock, though, Linda realized her husband was running a little late. That wasn’t at all like him. That cold touch of dread slithered its fingers down her back again. Shaking it off, she busied herself with a few things about the kitchen. Yet now, the ticking of the clock seemed to be akin to the sound of a hammer driving nails into her anxious thoughts.

She wiped her hands on her apron, glancing out the window toward the sprawling fields. There was no sign of her husband riding back from the pasture.

“Maybe he stopped to check on the cattle,” she murmured to herself, trying to rationalize his delay. Yet the thought did little to quell the knot tightening in her stomach. Linda moved to the window, peering out at the horizon. Dust kicked up in the distance could signal a rider, but all she saw were the grazing horses, peaceful and unaware of her mounting concern.

She turned back to the kitchen, glancing at the clock again. The tick-tock seemed to mock her with each passing second. Setting down the spoon she had been stirring with, she decided she couldn’t just wait any longer.

Maybe she was wrong to worry, but she had been complacent before, thinking that misfortune would never visit her life. That lesson had dealt its harsh truths with a swiftness unlike anything she had ever experienced before and, thankfully, never since. Unlike the beauty of this day, that far-off day had been violent with the power of the storm. It had raged through the night, tearing at the barn and sending rain crashing against the windows like a thousand angry fists. Linda shuddered at the memory. The wind had howled like a wounded animal, and her heart had raced with a primal fear as she clung to her brother, praying for the storm to pass.

She had lost her family that night. Her mother and father were swept away in the flood-waters. Leaving her to care for her brother when she herself still needed to be looked after and guided. The grief of that loss had etched itself into her heart, a constant reminder that life was fragile, easily undone by nature’s wrath. Since then, she had vowed never to take a moment for granted, yet here she was, wrapped in worry again.

Pulling on her sun hat, she stepped outside, the warm air wrapping around her like a familiar embrace. The ranch was alive with the sounds of nature—birds chirping, the distant mooing of cattle—but all she could hear was the hollow echo of her husband’s absence.

With determination, she made her way toward the barn, her heart pounding with each step. “Maybe he just lost track of time,” she reassured herself, but the words felt weak as they left her lips.

Placing her hand over her heart to steady it, she looked up to heaven. “Please, God, let him be safe. I cannot survive another loss,” she murmured the quick prayer.

As she neared the barn, she caught sight of something—there, by the fence, lay his hat, brim turned up, as if he had simply set it down for a moment. Her breath hitched. “Frank?” she called out, her voice steady but laced with urgency.

No answer. The silence stretched around her, thick and suffocating. She stepped closer to the hat, kneeling in the dirt, and suddenly the world felt heavier, shadows creeping into her thoughts. What could have happened?

As she lifted the hat, she remembered that he had told her he would be fixing the mill that day. Relief washed over her as she realized she had been worrying for nothing. He must have simply lost track of time. Still, with the echo of the night she had lost her parents still haunting her, she could not be assured until she saw him. If he had lost track of time, she would simply tease him into coming back with her.

Rushing back into the kitchen, she took the stew off the stove and banked the fire within. Looking around to ensure there would be nothing to endanger the house without her attention, she rushed back into the barn.

Linda grew up around horses and she quickly saddled up her trusted mare, Daisy. The familiar motions of tightening the girth and adjusting the bridle calmed her racing heart. With a final glance back at the house, she mounted and set off toward the mill, urging Daisy into a brisk trot.

The path to the mill wound through the tall grass, the smattering of clouds casting dappled shadows on the ground. As she rode, the rhythmic clip-clop of Daisy’s hooves echoed in her ears, grounding her thoughts. Linda focused on the landscape, the beauty of her ranch providing a stark contrast to the anxiety that had gripped her moments earlier.

But as she neared the mill, a feeling of unease returned. The air felt different here, charged with an energy that set her senses on edge. The old wooden structure loomed ahead, its wheel turning slowly, but there was no sign of Frank.

“Frank!” she called out, her voice carrying over the gentle rush of water against the mill’s wheel.

No answer. Just the sound of the mill creaking and the distant rustling of leaves. She dismounted and tethered Daisy to a post, her heart pounding as she approached the entrance. She looked to the heavens, beseeching God to let her find Frank safe.

Inside, the mill was dim, the only light filtering through gaps in the wood. The familiar scent of grain filled the air, but the absence of Frank’s presence weighed heavily on her.

“Frank!” she called again, a note of worry creeping into her voice. Silence greeted her call and her anxiety rose even more. “Where are you? You said you’d be fixing the… windmill.” She finished her sentence and then laughed. “Linda, you old fool, he said he’d be at the windmill, not the mill.”

Rushing back out, she took up Daisy’s reins and remounted. Even though a part of her thought she was being foolish for worrying so much, she pressed Daisy into a gallop. The mare responded eagerly as they raced across the familiar path toward the windmill.

The windmill came into view, its sails turning slowly against the sky. As she approached, she spotted most of the ranch hands crowding below it. The knot in her stomach tightened again as she realized their expressions were serious, faces drawn with concern. She pulled Daisy to a halt, anxiety clawing at her insides.

“Frank!” she called, her voice rising above the murmurs of the men. She dismounted quickly, her heart racing as she pushed through the group.

“Mrs. Harper, wait!” one of the ranch hands said, reaching out to stop her.

“What’s going on?” she demanded, fear creeping into her voice. “Where’s Frank?”

A hush fell over the group, and finally, the foreman emerged from the shadows of the windmill, his face smudged with grease and dust but visibly shaken. He looked at her, eyes wide, his face stark, and her heart sank.

“No,” she whispered, a part of her already knowing something had happened to her beloved husband. Please, God, no!

“Mrs. Harper…ma’am,” the foreman said, his eyes sorrowful.

“What happened? Where’s my husband? Where’s Frank?” she demanded.

“The windmill’s gear slipped,” he explained, glancing back at the structure. “Mr. Harper was trying to fix it when it suddenly started to tilt. I shouted for everyone to get back, and they did—just in time. But… it was too late.”

“No!” she shouted again. “Where is he?”

“It’s just happened, ma’am,” the man continued as if he hadn’t even heard her. “He was focused on getting it fixed before he went in for lunch and didn’t realize how unstable it had become.”

Panic surged through her, and she pushed past the men, her heart pounding in her chest. “Frank!” she called, her voice trembling. The thought of him injured, or worse, was unbearable.

“Stay back!” another of the ranch hands warned as she approached the looking structure, but the urgency in her heart drowned out his caution. She couldn’t just stand by; she had to know if he was alright.

“God, please save him for me.” she prayed as tears filled her eyes.

“Frank!” she shouted again, desperate. “Can you hear me? Hold on! I’m coming!” She didn’t wait for a response, racing toward the entrance. The ground felt unsteady beneath her, but she forced herself inside, her eyes adjusting to the dim light.

The air was thick with dust, and the smell of oil and wood filled her senses. She could see the shadow of the gears looming above, their metallic forms twisted and precarious. “Frank!” she called, moving deeper into the structure.

Then she saw him. He lay so still as if he were a child’s broken doll carelessly discarded. Two of the ranch hands were with him, their eyes sorrowful when they turned to her.

“Somebody get the doctor!” she shouted to those outside. “Hurry!” A part of her could reason the hysteria in her voice, the part that was aware of things her mind was not ready to face. “Who went to get the doctor?” she demanded.

“It’s too late ma’am,” the foreman, who had followed after her informed her in a gentle yet sorrowful voice. Linda’s heart sank as the words hit her like a cold wave.

“What do you mean it’s too late?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking too loudly might shatter the fragile moment.

The foreman stepped closer, his face lined with sorrow. “We tried, but he… he didn’t make it. He fell too fast. We didn’t have enough time.”

“No,” she breathed, denial wrapping around her like a shroud. “No, he was just here. He was fine. Frank!” She fell to her knees beside him, cradling his head in her lap, her fingers brushing through his hair, seeking any sign of life. But his skin was cold, and the light in his eyes had gone out.

Tears streamed down her cheeks, each one a silent testament to the love they had shared, the dreams they had built together on this land. “Frank, please,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “You can’t leave me. We were supposed to grow old together. You promised.”

The ranch hands stood by, a respectful distance away, their own grief palpable in the air. The foreman put a hand on her shoulder, but she shrugged it off, lost in her sorrow.

“Ma’am,” he said gently, “we need to move him. We can’t leave him here like this.”

“No!” she cried, clenching her fists. “I can’t. I can’t let go of him.” The weight of her loss felt unbearable, a crushing force that threatened to consume her whole.

“Let us help you,” another ranch hand said, his voice steady. “We’ll take care of him. You don’t have to do this alone.”

The thought of letting go felt like a betrayal, but deep down, she knew she couldn’t stay there forever, lost in her despair. With shaking hands, she reluctantly nodded, allowing them to carefully lift Frank’s body, her heart shattering with each movement.

As they carried him away, she felt an emptiness in her chest that she knew would never fully heal. The world around her blurred, the vibrant colors of the ranch fading into dull shades of gray.

“Where will you take him?” she asked, her voice breaking.

“To the barn for now,” the foreman replied softly. “We’ll lay him to rest properly, I promise. One of the lads has already gone to call Mr. Turner.”

She nodded. Calvin Turner would know what to do. He was Frank’s friend, and he always seemed to know what to do. Linda had no idea about any of it.

Numb, she followed behind them, each step heavy with grief. Memories of their laughter and love flooded her mind—working side by side on the ranch, sharing dreams under the stars, and loving the warmth of his embrace.

With her heart aching and tears streaming down her face, Linda knew her life would never be the same again. Frank had taken the last of any rays of sunlight life had ever given her. She now had nothing.

Closing her eyes, she recited a verse her mother used to love, “The Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh…” She just wished she could understand His will in taking the man she loved.

Chapter 1

Bayside, North Carolina 1850

Spring arrived with a vibrant burst of life, the world around Linda transforming into a canvas of blooming flowers and lush green fields. Yet, for her, the season felt bitter. As she moved through the ranch, the beauty of spring was a stark reminder of the warmth she had lost.

No longer were the fields neatly tilled into neat rows as in past seasons. Now dried grass and the remnants of last season’s parched crop were interspersed with new grass and shoots of the hardy plants Frank had planted.

The majestic oak tree by the river, where they had laid Frank to rest, stood tall and strong, its branches swaying gently in the breeze. She often found herself drawn to it, sitting under its shade, feeling the cool earth beneath her as she remembered the laughter and love they had shared. It was the only thing that kept her going most of the time.

The ranch hands, loyal and compassionate, had worked alongside her, helping to keep the farm running. Each day had been a struggle, but they were determined to honor Frank’s memory by continuing the work he had loved. Only things had gone downhill.

She had had to sell some of the stock to keep afloat. One by one, the ranch hands left for greener pastures until she was left only with old man Ryan and his wife. They were too old to find work anywhere else, even too old to do much for the ranch Frank had loved so much.

“Frank,” she whispered, feeling the familiar ache of longing. “I miss you every day. I don’t know how to do this without you.”

Yet she knew there was no other choice for her. Life carried on regardless of her grief, and the ranch needed her. She learned to navigate the rhythm of life alone, finding strength in routine. Each morning, she rose with the sun, tended to the few animals left, mended fences, and planted seeds in her garden—it made no difference to the state of affairs.

“God, how could you have taken him?” she asked as she had over the months. “Why would you take him? I don’t understand.”

Nights were the hardest. The quiet felt heavy without Frank’s laughter echoing through the halls or the warmth of his presence beside her. Without the distractions of endless tasks, she often found herself lying awake, staring at the ceiling, searching for solace in the memories they had created together.

Today, the morning was cold, the stars still twinkling overhead. As always she came to the oak tree first thing. She knelt beside the flowers, watering them carefully, the rhythmic splashes of water soothing her restless heart.

While everything else on the ranch was falling apart, this garden was flourishing. Was it because Frank was laid to rest here? He had always been good at everything he lay his hand on. It would make sense that even after he was gone, his resting place would be the same.

“Do you remember our plans?” she murmured to him. “We dreamed of expanding the ranch, of having a family. I wish you were still here with me. I’ve lost hope. You were always the one who gave it back to me. What am I going to do without you?”

Linda thought she was all out of tears after the crying she had been doing in the past months. But as she spoke, fresh tears welled in her eyes, spilling down her cheeks like rain on parched earth. Each drop was a release, a way of honoring the love they had shared and the dreams that now felt so distant. “I don’t know how to face tomorrow,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “Or even today.”

The gentle rustling of leaves in the breeze seemed to respond, and for a moment, it felt as if Frank was there beside her, wrapping her in a warm embrace. “I need you,” she said. Her heart ached with the weight of her loneliness.

The stillness of the morning enveloped her, and she closed her eyes, allowing the sounds of nature to comfort her. A soft croaking of frogs, the distant hoot of a late owl, and the whisper of the wind through the trees created a melody of solace.

But deep down, Linda knew that surrendering to despair wasn’t an option. It would be disrespectful to what they had shared, to whom her husband had been.

Taking a deep breath, she wiped her tears with the back of her hand and stood up, determination beginning to stir within her. With her voice cracking, she told him, “I don’t want to let your dreams die. I carry them with me every moment of the day, but I’m failing. I can’t make our ranch thrive. I don’t know what to do.”

Suddenly, she felt a soft brush against her leg. Looking up, she smiled as Daisy nudged her, seeking affection. “I know, girl. We’ve got to keep moving forward, just like Frank would want us to.”

With a forced smile, she patted Daisy’s neck and stood up. “Let’s go for a ride,” she decided, wanting to feel the freedom of the open land beneath her.

She mounted Daisy once more, feeling the familiar sense of freedom as they rode along the riverbank. The rising sun danced on the water, illuminating her path forward. With each step, she felt the weight of her sorrow begin to shift, replaced by a quiet resolve. Even as she enjoyed the moment, she knew the shroud of despair would come back again. It always did.

As confused as she was, Linda never doubted God had a purpose for her. It hurt that He had taken Frank, but she knew at the end of the day, He was all-knowing and wise.

With a sigh, she turned the horse toward her home. It was time to prepare for church. As she made her way back, the familiar sights of the ranch came into view—the barn, the corral, the fields stretching out under the expansive sky. Each landmark felt like a piece of her heart, a reminder of the life she and Frank had built together.

Church day always brought a mix of emotions. It was a chance to gather with the community, to share stories and support one another, but it also reminded her of the empty seat beside her. Frank had always been her partner in faith, and the thought of facing the congregation alone filled her with trepidation.

Arriving at the house, she dismounted and tied Daisy to the post, taking a moment to collect herself. The scent of blooming flowers filled the air, mingling with the warmth of the sun. Linda stepped inside, the familiar creak of the doors welcoming her as she moved through the rooms.

She found her Sunday dress hanging by the door. With a deep breath, she slipped it on, fastening the buttons and smoothing down the skirt. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror—there was still a flicker of the woman she used to be.

Her face was gaunt now, though, the freckles on her pale skin were more pronounced. Her chestnut brown waves framed her face and seemed to highlight the sorrow etched deep in her green eyes. When Frank was alive, he called her a ravishing beauty, and she secretly agreed. Now she was a shell. With a sigh, she moved away from the mirror and finished dressing.

After a quick breakfast of bread and jam, she prepared a small basket of goodies to share with the congregation—homemade biscuits and jam, a reminder of the warmth of the community. She also needed the comfort and hope the word of God brought her. Today, the heavy burden of her life seemed to be crushing in on her more than usual.

Her buggy was already hitched, so she set her basket on the passenger seat before taking the driver’s. With the ease of familiarity, she gave the horse its lead and made her way toward the church, the path so familiar that she didn’t need to concentrate all that much.

Their small church was at the edge of town, overlooking the ocean against the backdrop of hardy rocks the sea crashed against. Bayside was a town that hugged the ocean, the docks and fishing warehouses on the ocean side, and all the other businesses across from it.

While most seaside towns stank of rotten fish and the filth people tossed into the sea, the sheriff punished the guilty parties with cleaning up the bay. The results rewarded them with a fresher town than many people would expect.

As she parked her buggy and got out, the sounds of laughter and conversation filled the air as families gathered. Her heart quickened with both anticipation and dread.

Upon entering the church, the pastor, a kind man with gentle eyes, approached her. “Mrs. Harper, it’s good to see you. We’ve missed you in the last two weeks.”

“Thank you,” she replied, her voice steady but laced with emotion. “I’ve missed being here, too. The church is always a comfort.”

The pastor smiled at her, a serene smile that uplifted her. “As it should be.” he agreed.

After exchanging a few words with her, the reverend excused himself, leaving her standing alone. All of a sudden, Linda became aware of the tension underlying the laughter and conversations within the church. Linda’s eyes darted around the room, catching snippets of hushed exchanges and side-way glances her way. The once comforting warmth of the church now felt stifling, the air thick with unspoken words. She could feel the weight of the congregation’s collective anxiety pressing down on her.

Having lived her whole life here, she recognized every single person whispering about her, giving her reproving looks. As she did, she acknowledged those who gave her an encouraging smile in the midst of the hostility. Most of the former had a family member who had been employed at her ranch at one point. Had Linda fooled herself into thinking her former hands found greener pastures? From the reproving looks she was getting, she was sure that wasn’t the case. The men who had left their jobs with her must not be doing well, but how could they not see the struggle she was facing?

Her mind swirled with thoughts of every shared meal, every friendly chat over the years. These were the people who had celebrated with her and Frank, who had shared in their joys and triumphs. And now, it felt as if they were standing on the sidelines, waiting for her to stumble, waiting for the ranch to fail.

Taking a moment to steady herself, she took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. Her failures might be glaring for everyone to see, but she would not be bowed low, not in the house of the Lord. As the service began, she settled into her seat, the familiar hymns wrapping around her like a comforting blanket. The congregation sang, their voices rising together in harmony, and she felt a sense of connection wash over her.

When it was time for the sermon, the pastor read from the book of Ruth. He spoke about hope and renewal, about resilience in the face of loss. Each word resonated with her, weaving through the fabric of her doubts and fears. Linda felt a flicker of warmth in her chest, a tiny ember of hope that refused to be extinguished. She glanced around the congregation, seeing those same familiar faces softened by the pastor’s words. For a moment, the weight of their judgment seemed to lift, replaced by a shared sense of understanding and compassion. Perhaps, she thought, there was still a chance for redemption, for mending the broken ties that bound her to this place.

“Where you go, I will go, and where you stay, I will stay. Your people will be my people, and your God my God.” The words that Ruth had said to Naomi touched her in a way they had never done before.

Was it because of the hardship she had faced, the poverty she had endured that led her to a God-given blessing? Was Linda hoping for something similar? She shook her head at the thought. She had found her happiness with Frank. Surely, there was nothing else but hardship now in store for her.

As the service concluded and people began to gather in small groups, Linda felt a disconnection within her, as if these people she had known all her life were strangers. She smiled as she shared her biscuits, accepting kind words and embraces from those around her.

“How have you been since Frank went to be with the Lord?” her former schoolteacher, Mrs. Carpenter, asked with the same compassionate look Linda knew so well. She laid her hand on Linda’s shoulder, her touch bringing the same warmth she remembered from when she was a little girl.

Linda’s smile was a little strained, but it was still there. “I’m taking it one day at a time, ma’am.” The habit of a lifetime was hard to break.

The older woman nodded her now white-haired head, the wrinkles on her face looking more pronounced with her sympathy. “You will always miss him. I still miss my Harold even after all these years,” she confided with a smile. “But the Lord heals all wounds.”

This time, her smile was brighter, even though it held a hint of sadness. “That He does,” Linda agreed.

As if she understood how talking about her grief was the last thing Linda wanted, Mrs. Carpenter changed the subject. “I passed by your parent’s house the other day, and I must say the idea you had to rent it out was inspired. Nothing like holiday makers wanting to experience life by the seaside to help things along.”

“And with all that money, she denies our husbands of jobs they had for years.” a woman close by muttered loud enough for Linda to hear her, enough for all those standing about to hear.

Linda paled, pain piercing her heart at the callous words. She knew gossip was part and parcel of their town. By now, everyone would know how she was managing. That she wasn’t doing well.

“Insolent girl,” Mrs. Carpenter rebuked the woman, whose face reddened even as she glared back defiantly at the old woman. “Do you think that money is hers alone when she has two brothers? And didn’t your husband choose to leave his job?”

The woman, Cathy Martin, became flustered, and she mumbled something before moving away with her friends. A few others moved away, while others agreed with what Mrs. Carpenter had said.

Linda felt like the bottom had just been taken from beneath her feet. She had come for the hope she knew the church offered, and here were her people chastizing her. Had Ruth faced the same rejection as a Moabite woman in a foreign land? Did Linda still belong here?

“Don’t take to heart the words of ignorant people, child,” Mrs. Carpenter said, her blunt words showing her anger. “They offer neither wisdom nor sense.”

Tears blurred Linda’s vision for a moment before she took hold of herself. The advice was sound, but at the moment, it held little comfort. “You have said that before.” she reminded her old teacher with a laugh despite her pain.

“Yes, wise words are worth saying more than once.” Mrs. Carpenter said with what should have been arrogance but somehow came across as endearing.

It also lightened her mood and soothed her. With a grateful smile, she leaned over and kissed the older woman’s paper-thin cheek. “Thank you.”

“Hrrmph, none of that, young lady.” she glared at Linda though there was a pleased twinkle in her eyes. “If you want to be kissing someone, get another young man!”

“Mrs. Carpenter!” Linda was shocked by the suggestion.

“Didn’t you hear the pastor’s sermon? Ruth got herself a new man. Why can’t you?”

With a stricken face, she looked around at the people who were still around and saw that a number of them seemed interested in the turn of their conversation, though most tried to hide it. Would she now be bombarded with men wanting to marry her for the ranch? She shuddered at the thought.

“Frank has barely been dead a year!”

“Times are changing, young lady. Many a widow no longer heed that nonsense of being in mourning for a year.”

Linda straightened her back. “Well, I’m not ready to move on. Now, how are you doing with your health?” she asked, knowing how that would irk the old woman.

“My health is none of your business, insolent child!”

Linda hung her head as if she had just been chastized, but it was only to hide her pleased smile. Her former teacher continued with her tongue lashing, and the love behind it grounded Linda. But as she

made her way home, the loneliness and heartache pulsed with every turn of the buggy’s wheel. The sun began to dip below the horizon, beautiful and enchanting, but the fact that she could not enjoy it with Frank compounded her sense of isolation. The laughter and chatter from the church faded behind her, replaced by the quiet sounds of nature—rustling leaves, chirping crickets—but they felt distant and hollow.

As she approached her home, the familiar sights that once brought her comfort now felt heavy with memories. Each creak of the floorboards and every corner of the kitchen seemed infused with Frank’s presence, and the silence echoed louder in his absence.

For some reason, the disrepair and evident neglect on the ranch seemed more pronounced than when she had left. The few cattle she still had could be heard lowing with hunger, and her heart broke at the pitiful sound. She would have to go into the field and gather some leftover corn stalks. Linda could never get enough for them, no matter how hard she worked.

Inside, she set the basket down and took a moment to gather herself, leaning against the cool wooden counter. She could still feel the weight of their stares, the whispers that lingered in the air like a storm cloud. Were they right to be upset with her? Did they truly believe she couldn’t manage the ranch alone? The thought cut deeper than she expected, given that she was of the same mind.

She moved through the house, her hands brushing over the furniture they had chosen together and the pictures they had hung on the walls. Memories flooded her: the laughter, the dreams, the plans for the future. How had it come to this? She had thought her community would stand with her, but now she felt as though she were on the outside looking in.

“I need to find a way through this,” she whispered, hoping somehow for inspiration. “I can’t let them see me break.” With a heavy sigh when nothing came to mind, she set about doing some of the endless chores.

As she worked, she thought about the sermon. Perhaps it was time to reach out, to be open about her struggles rather than retreating into her grief. In all her troubles, the Lord had always been her refuge.

That night, she ate her lonely meal, exhaustion weighing heavily on her. The simple meal of bread and stew felt insufficient, lacking the warmth and laughter that once filled their table. But as she chewed, she found a small comfort in the familiar routine, a reminder of the life she had shared with Frank.

After clearing her plate, she settled in front of the fireplace. With a deep breath, she reached for her Bible, its worn pages a testament to the countless times she had sought solace within its verses.

As she opened it, her eyes fell on the familiar words: “I can do all things through Him who gives me strength.” They resonated deep within her, a lifeline in her darkest moments. She spent time reading, allowing the scriptures to wash over her, each verse a reminder of His love and hope.

With renewed determination, she closed the Bible and knelt by the fireplace, offering a prayer. “Lord, guide me. Help me to be strong, not just for myself, but for all those who are concerned. Show me, I pray, that hope still exists here, in this place we built together.” The warmth of the fire wrapped around her as she prayed, and for the first time in weeks, she felt a glimmer of peace.

As she prepared for bed, the night felt less daunting. She tucked herself under the blankets, the cool fabric a gentle reminder of the comfort still present in her life. Closing her eyes, she allowed herself to drift into sleep, holding onto the hope that tomorrow could be the beginning of a new journey—one of healing, connection, and renewal.

For the first time in what felt like forever, she had a good night’s sleep, and in her dreams, she was Naomi. She walked through fields of golden grain, the sun warm on her face, and felt a sense of peace she hadn’t known in years. Beside her, Ruth’s presence was a comforting reminder of loyalty and love, of the bonds that could be forged even in the darkest times. Together, they faced the challenges of their journey, finding strength in each other and in their faith.

When she awoke, the dream lingered, filling her with a renewed sense of purpose. She knew that, like Naomi, she could find her way through the trials ahead with hope and resilience guiding her steps. She might be thirty years old, childless without hope of ever having one, but that didn’t mean things would not turn around for her.

It was time for a new start. With that thought in mind, she got up, went to her small desk by the corner of her room, and sat down. She hadn’t written any letters in so long, and the stationary paper Frank had bought for her last birthday was still there. Taking up one of the precious lavender stenciled papers, she wrote a letter to her brother.

She had failed to keep up the ranch, and the one thing she had ever been good at on her own was raising her younger brother. Her older brother had been suggesting that she come live with him since Frank’s death. It was time to take him up on the offer.

Chapter 2

Calvin Turner removed his Stetson as he entered the farm supply store, the wooden door creaking softly behind him. Dust motes danced in the sunlight, filtering through the grimy windows and illuminating shelves lined with burlap sacks and barrels of grain. The faint smell of salt air lingered, a reminder of the nearby coast.

Inside, the store bustled with farmers and fishermen, their voices mingling in a low hum of conversation. Despite the hearty laughter and discussions, Calvin felt a sense of calm as he stepped deeper into the shop. He nodded to Mr. Jenkins, the shopkeeper, who was busy restocking a shelf as he reached him.

“Good day to you, Mr. Turner!” Mr. Jenkins called, wiping his hands on his apron.

“Afternoon, sir,” Calvin replied, his voice steady. He walked to the back, where sacks of seed were stacked high, each one promising a good harvest if tended right.

As he picked out a few bags, he couldn’t help but overhear snippets of talk around him—discussions about the recent storms that had swept through and how they had affected both crops and boats. He felt the weight of their shared struggles, the ties that bound the community together.

“I’m glad she’s selling.” A loud voice cut over the rest of the conversation, and Calvin turned to see a burly ranch hand talking to another.

“Yes,” the other nodded. “Just goes to show you females cannot run a ranch properly. I don’t hold to none of this notion that they should inherit.”

The first ranch hand nodded, crossing his arms as he leaned against a stack of feed. “Right, you are. They can’t handle the hard decisions or the weight of the land. It’s a man’s job.”

Calvin’s brow furrowed at their words, a sense of indignation rising within him. He knew plenty of women who could run a ranch just as well as any man—his own mother had been a testament to that, managing their land with skill and resolve after his father had passed.

“Maybe if given a chance, they’d surprise us all,” he murmured under his breath, hoping the ranch hands wouldn’t catch his sentiment.

The first ranch hand shot a glance his way. “What’s that, Turner? You think a woman could manage a ranch better than a man?”

Calvin straightened, meeting the man’s gaze with a steadiness born from conviction. “I believe it’s ability and determination. I’ve seen women work harder than most men I know.”

The second ranch hand scoffed, but Calvin could see a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. The first one waved a dismissive hand. “You’re just a soft-hearted man, Turner. Stick to your tender ways and let the real men handle the real work.”

Calvin took a breath, feeling the tension in the air. “It’s easy to dismiss what you don’t understand. But the land doesn’t care about gender; it only cares about those who will nurture it.”

“Land is not for nurturing. It’s for hard labor and sweat.” The first man said with a hard glint in his eyes. “Women are not meant to work the land. Their place is birthing babies; that’s where their nurturing comes in.”

“The widow Harper might not have been able to give Mr. Harper a child, but at least she has enough sense to know she can’t do a man’s work.”

Calvin froze. Frank’s widow was selling their ranch? It was now spring, and he had been away on a cattle drive over the winter, so this was the first time he was hearing about her putting up the ranch for sale.

“Frank’s wife is selling their ranch?” he questioned, wanting to confirm it and not jump to conclusions.

“Yes,” the first man confirmed. “He must be rolling in his grave after working so hard on his place, and his wife can’t even manage it for a year. And him without a son to pass it on to.”

His jaw hardened at the disrespect they were showing his late friend and his wife. What business of theirs was it that they had never had a child? Frank had been happy with his wife despite their situation. No one had a right to disparage that. Without another word, he turned away and then picked up the bags he needed. He would not let his friend’s legacy go to waste, he resolved.

The chatter resumed behind him, but he felt the weight of their opinions fade as he focused on the task at hand. When it was time to check out, he placed his items on the counter, displeasure still simmering within him, but he kept his demeanor respectful. “Thank you, Mr. Jenkins,” he said, placing a few coins on the counter.

Outside, the salty breeze tugged at his shirt. This town needed to grow—both in crops and in understanding. And he was determined to play his part. With his supplies in hand and the sun dipping low in the sky, Calvin donned his hat once more.

The town was alive with the sounds of seagulls and the distant crash of waves. He took a deep breath, recalling the promise he had made to himself. Frank had taught him about the unyielding strength of this community that thrived by the sea and soil. It was now time to repay him for his kindness.

Putting his feed into the cart, he got on and gave his dray horse the go-ahead. He would stop by the Harper ranch and see for himself what Frank’s widow was planning. Calvin guided his cart along the dirt path that led to the Harper ranch, the wheels creaking rhythmically against the rutted ground. The air was thick with the scent of dust and hay, but as he approached, an unsettling sight met his eyes. The Harper ranch had fallen into disrepair—weathered wood and peeling paint framed the house, and the once-vibrant garden lay choked with weeds.

He slowed the horse, taking in the scene. The fence sagged in places, and the barn, a vital lifeline for any ranch, looked like it might collapse at any moment. Calvin felt a knot tighten in his stomach as he parked the cart and stepped down, his boots crunching on the dry earth. He reached into the back of the cart to grab some feed for the animals he could hear lowing with hunger, but his mind was elsewhere, swirling with concern.

How had things gotten this bad in the few months he had been away?

“Mrs. Harper!” he called out, his voice carrying across the yard. He didn’t want to intrude, but he needed to know if she was truly prepared to leave all of this behind.

There was no answer. He circled the house, thinking that she might be at the back where she had kept a vegetable garden. It, too, was weed-chocked, as if it hadn’t been touched in months. What had been going on at the ranch? He couldn’t hear the sound of the animals that had usually greeted him.

Coming back to the front, he knocked on the door, but still, there was no answer. Worried, he tried the door, and the knob turned in his hand. He frowned. From what he could see, Linda was a woman on her own. Why would she be so careless of her safety?

The only sound he could hear was coming from the back of the house, where he knew the main bedroom was. He hesitated for a moment, knowing it wasn’t right for a man to be with an unmarried woman alone in her bedroom. Still, seeing how empty the house was of the furniture that had graced it before, he forged on.

“Mrs. Harper? Linda?” he called when he entered the open door and saw her packing away her bedroom into wooden crates.

She shot up from her bent position, her wide fearful eyes darting to him as her hand clutched at her bosom. She stepped back, her eyes widening further with surprise. “Mr. Turner! I didn’t expect to see you. You scared me.”

His eyes roamed over her fair skin, paler than the last time he had seen her. The freckles over her nose were more pronounced, her eyes looking unfathomable as she looked at him. They appeared larger than he remembered, giving her undeniable beauty, a vulnerability he could understand.

His jaw hardened as he empathized with the haunted look etched into her face. Frank had been there for him when he had lost Charlotte, and Calvin saw she was the same mess that he had appeared. Calvin hated that when this widow could have used the same support, he had been nowhere to be found. Had he fulfilled his duty to Frank, the Harper ranch would be in better shape, and she wouldn’t have thought of selling. His mentor and friend deserved better from him.

He forced a smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Forgive me, I didn’t mean to startle you. I wanted to check on you… I heard at the farm supply that you are selling the ranch. It looks like things have gotten rough around here.”

She followed his gaze, a flicker of shame crossing her features. “It’s been hard without… him.” Her voice trailed off, the weight of loss palpable between them.

Calvin took a step closer, lowering his voice. “I’m worried about you. The place looks like it hasn’t seen a decent hand in weeks. I will help you set it to right.” He offered.

Her chin came up at that, pride glinting in her eyes. “There is no need for that Mr. Turner, I have made up my mind to sell the ranch.”

He frowned at her. “Why would you sell the ranch? Frank loved this place, and it’s your home.”

She pursed her lips at that, her eyes becoming distant. “I thank you for your concern, sir, but that is my business and not yours.”

His frown deepened. He and Frank had been good friends. When the other man had helped him through his darkest moments, Linda had been by Frank’s side. They had gone past the stage of calling each other Mr. Turner and Mrs Harper. Yet here she was, distancing herself from him.

“Where will you live if you sell the ranch?” he asked, concern making it easy for him to ignore her need for privacy.

“I intend to take the trail to my brother in Oregon,” she informed him, squaring her shoulders as if preparing for a fight.

The dim light of the afternoon sun filtered through the lace curtains of Linda’s room, casting delicate patterns on the wooden floor. The room was a mix of melancholy and resilience, adorned with faded photographs and remnants of her late husband’s life. Linda stood by the window, arms crossed, staring out at the vast expanse of her ranch. Calvin could see her heart was heavy with the weight of the decision, which, he hoped, would lend itself to her seeing reason.

He paced the floor, his brow furrowed with concern. “You can’t be serious about this, Linda.” He reiterated. “The wagon trail to Oregon isn’t safe—especially for a woman traveling alone.”

Linda turned to face him, her expression a blend of determination and sorrow. “I will not be alone, I have contracted a reputable wagon train, and there will be other passengers. Staying here is just a constant reminder of what I’ve lost.”

“Reminders can be painful, but they’re better than the dangers out there,” Calvin argued, his voice rising slightly. “You’ve heard the stories—bandits, wild animals. Even the journey itself can be treacherous. What if something happens?”

“I can’t let fear dictate my life,” she replied, her voice steady despite the tremor of her emotions. “I need a fresh start. Oregon offers hope, a chance for a new beginning.”

“And at what cost?” Calvin stepped closer, concern etched on his face. “You’ll be vulnerable out there, Linda. The road is filled with dangers that can’t be fought off with sheer will. You know that. Did you think about the physical toll it will take on you?”

Everyone knew of people who had gone west on the wagon trains and fallen prey to all sorts of misfortunes. Linda should know better than to contemplate such foolishness. She had a good life here. Why would she give it up for something uncertain?

“I am not a young girl taken by the novelty of a wagon trail, Mr Turner. I am old enough to know my mind and plan for my life as I see fit,” she replied with an indignant tone in her voice.

“Then why would you risk your life like this?”

“I have no choice!” she exclaimed, her voice cracking. “If I stay here, I’ll drown in my grief. I can’t let my husband’s death define my future.”

“But think of his legacy that you are throwing away. You have land here, stability. There’s no need to take a risky journey through uncharted territory when you already have a good life here.” Calvin said, then softened his tone. “You could lose everything trying to chase some dream.”

She had to see the sense in what he said, right? With some guidance from him, she could turn around the problems her ranch was facing.

Linda’s eyes flashed with defiance. “What do you want from me, Mr. Turner? To stay here and live in the shadows of my past? I have to move forward.”

“Forward doesn’t always mean taking the most dangerous path. I’m not trying to control your life; I just want to protect you,” he replied, his voice low but firm.

Calvin remembered a time when he, too, had almost lost his ranch. Lost in grief so that he couldn’t function with two young boys to see to. It had been Frank who had saved it for him. They had not been friends then, Frank being a little older than him. When Calvin asked him why he cared, Frank said that it was because they were neighbors, and God expected them to help each other.

It was time to be just as neighborly.

“I don’t need your protection if it means keeping me trapped in a life I can’t bear,” she shot back, the fire in her eyes dimming for a moment as vulnerability flickered through. “What do you want me to do? Just give up on my dreams?”

Calvin sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I want you to be safe. I want to help you find a way to rebuild your life without risking everything in the process. There are other options.”

“Options that keep me here, in this place that suffocates me?” She turned back to the window, her gaze lost in the horizon. “I need to go. I need to believe there’s more out there for us. Besides, God gave me a dream that told me to leave.”

Calvin believed in God, not that he had been faithful since Charlotte died, but the thought of dreams having more meaning troubled him. “Linda, dreams are just that—dreams. They’re not always a sign from above. What if you’re misinterpreting it?”

As her face became even more set and closed off, Calvin realized that was the worst thing he could have said to her. What was he supposed to say to that, though? She was endangering herself for the sake of a pipe dream, leaving a sure thing in search of an ephemeral dream. He wasn’t going to let her throw away her life, not if he could help it.

He recalled his assertion in the shop that women were capable, and he believed it, but he also knew they were more vulnerable in certain situations. The wagon train was one of those instances where women had to be protected. His wife’s sister had made the same decision, and the things that had befallen her chilled his blood. He would not let his friend’s widow face the same horror, not when finding Catherine’s vacant eyes on her bed after she had killed herself upon hearing her sibling’s fate.

Chapter 3

Calvin fell silent, the tension thick in the air as they both grappled with the weight of her decision. Outside, the wind rustled through the grass, echoing the turmoil in Linda’s heart. She wasn’t going to give in to his high-handed need to keep her here. As a grown woman, she could make her own decisions without needing the approval of any man.

She hadn’t seen Calvin Turner in many months. While he had come around a bit after Frank had died, he had been a stranger these past months. How dare he come and think he could dictate what she should do with her property and her life?

He was Frank’s friend. They were neighborly, but they had never shared confidences. Not that a married woman could share confidences with a man not her husband. Still, their relationship had never been more than a connection through Frank, on her side anyway. It seemed Calvin saw it differently.

He paced back and forth in the suddenly small room, his frustration evident in every step. “Linda, you can’t be serious about this,” he said again, ignoring that he had just belittled her reaction to her dream. “The wagon trail is no place for a lone woman.”

He was like a caged predator as he paced, finding the small space too confining for his wild instincts. Where Frank had been an easy-going man who went about with a cheery smile, Calvin was like a thundercloud. Both men were tall and had blue eyes and dark hair, Calvin’s being a dark brown to her husband’s black. Yet Frank had seemed light compared to the intensity that enveloped Calvin Turner.

Linda stood her ground, her eyes flashing with determination. “As I said, I know the risks, Mr. Turner, but I can’t stay here any longer. I need a fresh start, a chance to rebuild my life.”

Calvin stopped and faced her, his expression softening slightly. “I understand that, but the trail is dangerous.”

“I’ve thought about all of that,” Linda replied, her voice steady. “But I already explained to you that I can’t let fear dictate my life. I’ve survived worse, and I believe I can handle this.”

Calvin shook his head, his worry evident. “You’ll be vulnerable out there, and I won’t be there to protect you.”

Linda’s expression softened for a moment until she remembered that he had, in essence, told her she was being ridiculous. “I appreciate your concern, Mr. Turner, truly. But I do not need your protection. I can stand on my own feet.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I just don’t want to see you get hurt. The journey is long and arduous. What if something happens to you out there?”

“Mr. Turner, I am not, nor have I ever been, your concern.” Her voice was firm, but there was a hint of sadness in her eyes.

The stubborn man refused to back down. “Linda, you know that’s not true. I’ve always cared about you, even if you don’t want to admit it. Frank was my friend, and he would want me to continue looking after you. This isn’t about control; it’s about your safety.”

She turned away, staring out the window again. “I have made up my mind and do not need your approval. Now, if you will excuse me, I need to meet with the leader of the wagon train and finalize things.”

Calvin stepped closer, his eyes narrowing on her and causing apprehension to trail down her spine. She squared her shoulders even more and dared him to stop her. “I’m going with you,” he announced in that unequivocal way that had always grated on her.

“What? No!” The high-handed, annoying man turned and walked out of the door as if she hadn’t spoken. Linda found herself dashing after him as his longer stride ate up the distance. “Mr. Turner, I forbid you to interfere with my plans. My life has nothing to do with you,” she shouted after him as the infuriating man exited her house.

“And stop with the Mr. Turner nonsense. You’ve always called me Calvin,” he said over his shoulder before closing the door behind him.

“The nerve!” she exclaimed with a stamp of her foot that she immediately regretted as it seemed childish.

Linda grabbed her reticule and the umbrella she had behind her door. Taking up the keys to her house from their hook in the kitchen, she decided to ignore the man and make her way to her meeting.

Her small buggy was already hitched to Daisy in the barn, and she made her way toward it with determined strides. The morning air was crisp, her heart racing with both frustration and determination. As she approached the barn, the familiar scent of hay and leather calmed her nerves, but thoughts of Mr. Turner swirled in her mind like a storm.

“Why does he insist on meddling in my affairs?” she muttered to herself, giving Daisy a gentle pat as she secured the reins. The mare whickered in response, seemingly sympathetic to Linda’s plight.

Climbing into the buggy, she took a deep breath, steeling herself for the meeting ahead. It was crucial—her chance to leave as soon as possible. She wouldn’t let Mr. Turner’s arrogance derail her.

As she guided Daisy along the winding path out of town, the vibrant colors of summer surrounded her, a stark contrast to the turmoil brewing in her heart. Just then, she heard the familiar sound of hooves behind her. Turning slightly, she spotted Mr. Turner, riding his sleek chestnut stallion, catching up to her with ease.

“Linda!” he called, his voice carrying over the sound of Daisy’s hooves. “I told you I will be coming with you.”

She clenched her jaw, determined to ignore him. “I’m not interested in your opinion, Mr. Turner,” she shouted back, urging Daisy to pick up speed.

But he matched her pace, pulling alongside her. “You can’t possibly think you can handle this all on your own. You need—”

“I need nothing from you!” she interrupted, her voice rising. “I can manage my own life, thank you very much.”

Mr. Turner looked at her, a mix of frustration and concern etched on his rugged features. “And what if your plans fail? What then?”

Did everyone think her plans would fail? Just because she had failed at keeping up the ranch did not mean she would fail at everything. She was determined to do this and succeed at it. That would show them.

Linda glanced at him, her heart pounding not just from anger but from an unexpected thrill. “Then I’ll learn from it. It’s my choice to make, not yours.”

As they rode in silence for a moment, the tension thick between them, Linda felt an unexpected rush of exhilaration. Perhaps it was the thrill of standing her ground, or maybe it was something more unsettling. But she shook off the thought. “I have a meeting to get to, and you’re not going to ruin this for me.” With that, she urged Daisy forward, leaving him behind—at least for now.

As she drove toward the town of Wilmington, through the cool forests between it and Bayside, Linda couldn’t help but replay their argument in her head. His concern was infuriating, but a small part of her couldn’t deny that it came from a place of genuine care. Still, she had to stand her ground. This journey was hers to make, and she needed to prove to herself that she could do it.

“Where exactly are we going?”

Exasperated, Linda closed her eyes and sent a quick prayer for patience. “We are not going anywhere. I am.” despite her best efforts, the words came out of clenched teeth.

Calvin Turner stubbornly kept pace with her and refused to listen to reason. He had the temerity to continue arguing with her over her decision. Did he think it had been an easy one for her to make? Where had his care and protection been while she had been struggling alone? And now that she had taken her life into her own hands, he wanted to derail her. Well, it was too late.

All the way to Wilmington, he made efforts to change her mind as if he had some right to her. Why couldn’t he mind his own business? Calvin Turner’s persistence grated on her nerves. Each word he uttered felt like another weight added to her already heavy burden. Did he think she hadn’t considered every possible outcome? Did he really believe he understood her struggle, her journey? It was infuriating.

As they rode toward Wilmington, she stole glances at him, his face set in determination. He was so focused on convincing her that he seemed blind to the reality of her choice—the pain she had endured, the sleepless nights spent wrestling with doubt. His concern felt misplaced, even selfish, as if her life was merely a puzzle he needed to solve.

“Why can’t you just trust me?” she snapped, finally unable to hold back.

His expression faltered for a moment, surprise flickering across his features. But then he regrouped, leaning forward and giving her that disconcerting intense stare of his, fire igniting in his eyes. “Because I care about you! I don’t want you to make a mistake you’ll regret.”

“Caring doesn’t mean controlling,” she shot back, her voice rising. “You don’t get to decide what’s best for me!”

Silence settled between them, thick and uncomfortable. The road stretched ahead, an endless reminder of her resolve. She wouldn’t let him derail her. Not this time.

It was such a beautiful day, and she would have loved to enjoy it instead of enduring this strife. The sunlight filtered through the trees along the trail, casting a dappled pattern of light and shadow on the ground. The leaves, in their myriad shades of green, seemed to dance as the gentle breeze rustled through them. Each beam of light that broke through the canopy above created a warm, golden glow, illuminating the path ahead with a serene, almost magical quality. The interplay of light and shadow gave the forest an ethereal beauty, making the trail feel like a hidden sanctuary, a place where time slowed down and nature’s tranquility reigned supreme.

The town came into view, and she straightened her shoulders, ready and excited to face the future that lay ahead. She would attend her meeting, make her plans, and set out on the trail to Oregon. No one, not even Calvin Turner, would stop her from finding her path.

She made her way to the building, where she would be meeting with the wagon leader and others who would be traveling with her. It was a modest structure, weathered by time and the elements, but it stood strong. Excitement bubbled inside her, causing butterflies to wrestle within her. Being here made her plans all the more real. She was going to Oregon.

The wooden door creaked as she pushed it open, and she stepped inside, her eyes adjusting to the dim light. Inside, the room was filled with the murmur of voices and the scent of fresh hay. Exhilaration seemed to pollute the air, the same as it did her. There was an air of anticipation within the place, a joy that was hard to describe.

People were gathered in small groups, their conversations revealing a blend of excitement and nervous energy. Linda felt a surge of hope as she took in the scene. These were her fellow travelers, people who, like her, were seeking a new beginning. Then she noticed that Calvin Turner had followed her in, and her spirit soured.

“Go back home to your ranch, Mr. Turner,” she told him. “You are not needed here.”

“No,” he stated.

“No?” she demanded of him. “This is my choice, not yours.”

A frown added to the sternness that was usually etched onto his face as his gaze took in the scene before them. “Frank wouldn’t approve of this. You can’t go and leave the life he made for you behind.”

His words were like a stab from a knife through the heart. Linda felt a sharp pang of pain, her breath catching in her throat. She turned to face him, her eyes filled with a mix of sorrow and defiance.

“Frank is gone,” she said softly, her voice trembling. “And I have to find a way to live without him. Staying here, clinging to the past, it’s suffocating me. I need to move forward.”

He shook his head, his expression hardening. “You’re running away, Linda. This isn’t what Frank would have wanted for you.”

Tears welled up in her eyes, but she blinked them back, refusing to let them fall. “I’m not running away. I’m trying to survive. Frank would want me to be happy, to find peace. And I believe that’s out there, maybe in Oregon.”

He sighed. “I just don’t want to see you get hurt. The world out there is dangerous, especially for a woman.”

“I know the risks,” she replied, her voice steady despite the angry undertone in it. “But I have to do this. For myself and for Frank. I need to believe there’s more out there for me. You’re not going to stop me, no matter what you say. My mind is made up.”

He looked at her for a long moment, then nodded. “Alright, Linda, If you’re set on this path, then I will have to go with you.” he declared, folding his arms across his middle and looking at her with a challenge in his eyes.

The anger flared higher within her. “No, you are not coming with me.” she hissed, her fists balling as she tried to keep her voice calm. “I will not have you looming over me with your overbearing attitude. Leave me alone.”

“And I will not let you traipse around the wilds like a baby deer who doesn’t know the dangers of this world. I owe Frank too much to allow that.”

“Allow?” Linda demanded with indignation, her hands going to her waist as she straightened up, unaware that her voice had risen and quietened the room. “Just who do you think you are that you feel you have to allow me anything?”

“You’re making a scene.” Calvin Turner told her in a mild tone. Linda froze and looked around the room. The murmur of voices had ceased, and all eyes were now on her. She felt a flush of embarrassment creep up her neck.

A tall man with a weathered face and a commanding presence came to stand with them in the silence that had descended upon them. “You must be Mrs. Harper,” he greeted. “I’m Elijah Green, the master of the wagon train.”

Linda smiled up at the man, a smile she was sure appeared forced and embarrassed. She blamed Calvin for that. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Green. This is Mr. Calvin Turner, a friend of my late husband. He’s a bit concerned about my travel arrangements.”

Mr. Green nodded, his intelligent eyes meeting Calvin’s. The two men assessed each other in a silent standoff, each sizing the other up. Calvin’s brow furrowed slightly while Mr. Green remained calm, a slight smile playing on his lips.

“His concern is understandable, Mrs. Harper,” Mr. Green said, his voice smooth and confident. “Travel can be unpredictable, especially for a woman venturing out alone. My people and I will undoubtedly do our best to protect you, but at times, even that is not enough. Another man on the trail with us would be most welcome.”

“But…” Linda’s protest sputtered off, stunned as she was by the master’s agreement with Calvin. Was she being unreasonable?

“Now, if you will excuse me, I have to start the meeting.” With that, Mr. Green left to go to the makeshift stage in front of the few chairs.

Boiling from within, Linda turned to glare at Calvin, only to be met with a bland face that lacked the smug satisfaction she thought it would have. His eyes were determined, and she suspected he would disregard any attempts by her to have him stay behind. After all, there was nothing she could do to stop him from paying his way on the same wagon train.

Chapter 4

Calvin could tell that Linda was annoyed with him, but it didn’t matter. He was a man of honor, one who saw his duty through no matter what people thought. Frank had been his friend and had been there for him. While he had never been able to sufficiently pay back that debt, the least he could do was ensure that his widow survived the foolishness she was contemplating.

For a moment, he wondered at the lengths he was willing to go. The trip to Oregon would be just as dangerous for him. Bandits were known to attack the trains, knowing there would be much to steal from people uprooting their lives. Most people going to visit far-off places took the rail, and only those going West to settle took the trail. So why was he insistent on going with her when they had no relationship outside of Frank?

From what he could see, Mr. Green seemed like a competent wagoner. She should be safe under his care, yet he knew he would be going with her. Elijah Green went over all the essentials, telling them about the foods they could bring along and the routes they could take. Calvin listened intently, nodding at the mention of the sturdy wagon and cattle that would be required to pull them. He appreciated the practicality of it all, even if Linda’s irritation simmered just beneath the surface.

Going along on her journey wasn’t something he would have wanted, but since he couldn’t dissuade her, it was the next best thing. He wanted to be sure that Linda would have everything she needed, even if she didn’t want his help.

Mr. Green’s voice cut through his thoughts. “Remember, the trail is long and hard. You’ll need to be prepared for anything. Make sure you have enough provisions to last the journey, and don’t forget to pack light but well. The road will be rough, but if we rely on each other, it will lessen the burden.”

Calvin noticed Linda’s nod as she absorbed the information. She looked determined to be as prepared as possible. Calvin’s gaze never left her, his mind racing with concerns. He knew Linda was strong and capable, but the dangers of the trail were real. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he needed to be there, to watch over her, to repay the debt he owed to Frank.

They would be leaving in a week’s time, traveling from Wilmington to Missouri to join the wagon trail there. Mr. Green leaned forward, his hands resting on his knees as he began to outline the journey from there. “Well, folks, the trip from Missouri to Oregon is no small feat, but with a good wagon train, we can make it safely and efficiently.

“We’ll start in Independence, Missouri. It’s the traditional launching point for many pioneers. We’ll gather supplies and make sure our wagons are in tip-top shape. From there, we’ll head west along the Oregon Trail.” He smiled at his audience, the excitement for the journey clear for all to see.

“Our first significant stop will be at the Big Blue River. It’s about a day’s travel from Independence, and it’s a good place to rest and replenish our water supply. The grass there is decent for the animals, too.

Next, we’ll push on to Fort Kearny, where we can restock our provisions. It’s a crucial waypoint, and we might even be able to trade for fresh meat if we’re lucky. After that, we’ll travel through the Platte River Valley, where we’ll encounter some beautiful scenery, but be wary of the sandbars.” As he said that, he gave them all a cautioning look. Calvin knew what the danger of sandbars could be, but he could see that Linda didn’t.

“As we continue, we’ll reach Chimney Rock—an iconic landmark that will signal we’re making good progress. It’s a popular spot for a brief pause, where we can take in the view and let the livestock graze.

Then, we’ll head towards Scott’s Bluff, another landmark, where we’ll have a chance to rest before crossing the North Platte River. It’s vital we cross at the right spot; the river can be unpredictable.” Mr. Green straightened to his full height as he said that, a smile of anticipation on his face.

Calvin had thought a man who had likely taken travelers along the trail plenty of times would be jaded to the novelty. He had clearly been wrong.

“Once we get past the river, we’ll traverse the Trail through the South Pass in the Rocky Mountains. This part can be challenging, especially with the elevation, but it’s also one of the most breathtaking stretches of the journey.” He informed them, his smile widening.

“After the mountains, we’ll make our way to Fort Bridger, where we can take a much-needed break and prepare for the last leg of the journey. It’s a good spot to regroup, especially if any of us need to repair our wagons or rest the animals.

Finally, we’ll make our way into the lush valleys of Oregon. Depending on the time of year and weather conditions, we could reach the Willamette Valley by late summer or early fall. It’ll be a long haul, but if we stick together and keep our spirits high, we’ll make it.”

Calvin nodded, feeling unexpected anticipation. He could see the potential for adventure but also the risks that lay ahead. He had never thought himself the kind of man who would be enticed by such a thing, but he couldn’t deny the excitement that was brewing inside him as he tried to picture all the things Green had talked about.

The meeting quickly wound down after that, and he and Linda left to go back to Bayside. The late afternoon sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows on the dirt road that wound through the trees. Calvin kept a steady pace beside Linda’s buggy, the silence between them palpable. He could feel the tension radiating from her, the unspoken words swirling like the leaves in the breeze.

As they rode on, he stole glances at her profile, the way her jaw tightened whenever she glanced his way. She hadn’t spoken a word since they left the meeting, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that every step they took was a reminder of their unresolved conflict. He wanted to bridge the gap, to explain why he felt compelled to intervene, but every time he opened his mouth, the words felt inadequate.

The air was thick with the scent of pine and the distant sound of a stream. He remembered how he and Charlotte used to enjoy rides like these together, sharing thoughts about their dreams and plans. Now, the quiet between him and Linda felt like a wall, and he could sense her frustration lingering just beneath the surface.

“Linda,” Calvin finally ventured, trying to keep his tone light. “What do you think of the route Mr. Green outlined?”

She didn’t respond, her gaze fixed on the path ahead. He sighed, feeling the weight of his unspoken thoughts. It wasn’t just about the journey to Oregon; it was about their friendship, about honoring Frank’s memory in a way that felt right to him. He knew she saw his concern as overbearing, but he believed it came from a place of loyalty.

The road opened up into a small clearing on the Harper ranch, sunlight breaking through the canopy above. He stopped, glancing at her, hoping she’d at least acknowledge the beauty around them. But her expression remained distant, lost in her own thoughts.

Calvin took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of emotions within him. “Look, I know you’re upset. I just want to make sure you’re safe.”

Finally, she turned to him, her eyes flashing with a mix of hurt and defiance. “Safe isn’t the same as being stifled, Calvin. I’m not a child. I can make my own choices.”

He felt a pang at her words, a reminder of how much had changed since Frank’s passing. “I never meant to treat you like one. I just… I worry about you.”

She shook her head, frustration evident in her stance. “Worrying isn’t the same as protecting. It feels like you don’t trust me to handle my own life. Everyone in this town underestimates me and thinks I’m a failure. By coming along to take care of me, you’re proving them right.”

Her words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken hurt. He wanted to tell her that he did trust her, but the weight of his guilt held him back. Yet even then, he could not back down. Linda had grown up in Bayside, a long-established town, safe. She could not imagine the vigors of the long journey she was anticipating. Calvin had gone on various cattle drives and had a better understanding of what it would take. Even if she ended up hating him, he would see to her care.

She gave her horse the leave to gallop off, and Calvin watched her as she reached the front of her house and got out of the buggy. Anger fed her movements as she made her way to the front door. She opened it and then banged it behind her.

Calvin tried to focus on the beauty around them, but his mind was consumed with thoughts of how to mend what felt so frayed. He could only hope that, as the shadows lengthened, they might find a way to bridge the silence between them. With a sigh, he went to the wagon he had left in Linda’s yard and hitched his horse back on. He had already fed Linda’s livestock before following after her, and given her current prickliness, he thought it best not to tell her. She might just take exception to that. Getting onto his cart, he made his way home.

***

“You cannot be serious!” John, his older son, protested once Calvin had told them both his plans.

At twenty, the boy he had raised was now a man equal in height to him and with the brawny strength of one well-versed in hard labor. While he had Calvin’s blue eyes, he had inherited Charlotte’s golden curls. Calvin knew his son would be upset if he were to tell him his curls still made him look like the lad that had followed Calvin everywhere just four years earlier.

His younger son, Daniel, in contrast, had Calvin’s dark looks with their mother’s grey eyes. On him, the light eyes looked like the flash of lightning just before a rainstorm. It didn’t help that he had inherited Calvin’s sometimes taciturn character.

Calvin stood firm, his expression resolute. “I am serious, John,” he stated. “I owe it to Frank to make sure Linda is safe on her journey.”

Daniel shook his head in disbelief. “But, Pa, the ranch needs you. We need you here. How can you just leave everything behind?”

Calvin sighed, looking at his sons with a mixture of frustration and determination. “I’m not leaving everything behind. I’m leaving the ranch in your capable hands. You’re both more than ready to handle things here for a while.”

John stepped forward, his voice rising. “This isn’t just about the ranch. It’s dangerous out there. You could get hurt or worse. And for what? A debt to a man who’s now gone?”

Calvin’s eyes hardened. “Frank was more than just a friend. He saved this ranch more times than I can count, not to mention what he did for me when your mother died. I owe him this, and I won’t turn my back on that debt.”

Daniel crossed his arms, his face set in a stubborn frown. “We understand loyalty, Pa, but this is madness. Mrs. Harper has made her choice. Why do you have to get involved?”

“Because it’s the right thing to do,” Calvin replied, his voice steady. “Linda’s alone and vulnerable. I can’t just stand by and do nothing.”

John ran a hand through his hair, exasperated. “And what about us? What if something happens to you? We can’t lose you too.”

Calvin softened, placing a hand on John’s shoulder. “I know you’re worried, son. But you’re both strong and capable. Even if something happened to me, I know you two can handle the ranch. I have faith in you.”

“You’ll be gone for more than a year,” John protested.

“Yes,” he agreed, unfazed.

“Don’t you think that’s too much trouble to go through for a debt to a dead man?”

Calvin frowned; his son made a good point. Logically, it was insane to go to such lengths. He couldn’t really explain it even to himself, but he needed to ensure Linda’s safety.

“I’ve already made up my mind, John. Nothing is going to change it.”

Daniel’s expression wavered, a mix of anger and concern. “We just don’t want to see you get hurt, Pa. This isn’t your fight.”

Calvin shook his head. “It is my fight. Frank was my friend, and I owe him this. I need to see it through.”

John and Daniel exchanged a look, their resistance slowly crumbling. They knew their father well enough to understand that once his mind was made up, there was no changing it.

“Alright, Pa,” John finally said, his voice heavy with resignation. “But promise us you’ll be careful. And come back to us.”

Calvin nodded, a small smile breaking through his stern demeanor. “I promise. I’ll be as careful as I can. And I’ll come back.”

With that, the argument ended, leaving a heavy silence in its wake. Calvin knew his sons were worried, but he also knew he had to honor his debt to Frank. It was a matter of duty, of loyalty, and of doing what was right.

Calvin left his sons standing in the barn, their expressions a mix of worry and resignation. He made his way back to the house, his mind already shifting to the practicalities of the journey ahead. He had promised to be careful, and that meant being well-prepared.

Entering his room, he pulled out an old, sturdy trunk from under the bed. It had seen many travels and was worn but reliable. With a smile, he remembered the day he and Charlotte had bought it. She had fallen in love with it at first sight, but he, not so much. However, he had still bought it for her. He opened it and began to gather the essentials: sturdy clothes, a warm blanket, and a well-worn Bible that had been his companion through many trials, though his faith wasn’t as strong as it had been once. But with a perilous journey in his future, he could reconnect with it if he found himself struggling.

He moved with purpose, his hands steady as he packed. He added a small, well-maintained pistol and a hunting knife, knowing that the trail could be unpredictable. A rush of excitement once again rushed through him, and he scoffed. Was that the reason he was insisting on going along with Linda? A need for excitement? Next, he packed some dried food and a canteen, ensuring he had enough provisions to last until they could restock.

As he worked, his mind wandered to Linda. He admired her determination, even if he didn’t agree with her decision to go alone. He hoped she would come to see his presence as a support rather than an intrusion.

Calvin paused, looking around the room. It felt strange to be leaving the ranch, even if only temporarily. This place had been his home for so long, and his sons were now stepping into roles he had always filled. He felt a pang of guilt but pushed it aside. This was something he had to do.

He closed the trunk and secured it with a leather strap. Despite that, Calvin spent the next week in a flurry of activity, preparing for his departure. The days were long, filled with the familiar rhythm of ranch life, but each task was now laced with a sense of urgency.

He rose before dawn, his breath visible in the crisp morning air, and made his way to the barn. The horses whickered softly as he approached, and he took a moment to pat their flanks, feeling a pang of nostalgia. He was going to miss this place more than he cared to admit.

As he loaded the wagon, John joined him, his expression still full of concern, but he was clearly determined to see this through. “I’ll help with the supplies,” he said, loading sacks of grain and tools to the back. “But you need to promise to write us. We’ll be here worrying.”

Calvin nodded, appreciating his son’s resolve. “I’ll send word as soon as I can. Just keep an eye on the cattle and the fields. They’re your priority now.”

Before they left, he would be driving the wagon to Linda’s ranch to get the things she would be going with. He shook his head as he thought of the fact that she hadn’t even thought she would need her own wagon before deciding to go. She would have had to pay more money to join Elijah and the others on their train if Calvin had not had his.

Daniel arrived shortly after, holding a small satchel filled with their mother’s old letters. “I thought you might want these. She always said that family is what matters most,” he said, his voice quieter than usual.

Calvin took the satchel, a bittersweet smile crossing his face. “She was right. I’ll carry them with me.” He tucked it away carefully, feeling the weight of their shared history.

As the week wore on, the tasks grew heavier. Calvin helped John and Daniel patch fences, inspect the cattle for signs of illness, and navigate the troubled waters of managing the ranch’s finances. They knew quite a bit of it, but all three felt a need to make sure. They worked late into the evening, the flickering lantern light casting long shadows as they reviewed ledgers and budgets.

“I still can’t believe you’re really doing this,” John muttered one night, his ink pen poised over the figures. “It feels like you’re leaving us to fend for ourselves.”

Calvin paused, meeting his son’s gaze. “You’re not alone. I believe in you both. You’ve grown up here and learned everything I could teach you. This is your chance to prove it.”

By the time the day of his departure arrived, Calvin felt a heaviness in his chest. He gathered his few belongings—some clothes, tools, and the satchel of letters—and loaded them into the wagon. The sun cast a warm glow over the land, but it only deepened his sense of foreboding.

“Are you sure you have everything?” Daniel asked, anxiety evident in his tone as he checked the wagon once more.

“I have what I need,” Calvin replied, his voice steady. He turned to face his sons, who stood together at the edge of the property, a mix of pride and worry in their eyes. “I’ll be back before you know it. You take care of each other, and if you need anything, don’t hesitate to reach out to the neighbors.”

John nodded, swallowing hard. “Just come back safe, alright?”

Calvin stepped forward, pulling them both into a tight embrace. “I will. Look after this place. I believe in you.”

As he climbed into the wagon, he glanced back one last time, taking in the sight of the ranch—the fields, the barn, and the two figures standing watch. It was a bittersweet farewell, filled with uncertainty and hope. With a flick of the reins, he set off down the dirt road, the sound of the wagon wheels echoing in the stillness, leaving behind the land he loved and the family he cherished.

Chapter 5

As the riverboat churned through the waters of the Tennessee River, Linda leaned against the railing, watching the scenery blur by. The trees along the banks swayed gently in the breeze, but her thoughts were as turbulent as the water below. She had chosen a spot on the edge, away from the bustle of the deck, hoping to avoid conversation, especially with Calvin.

She could hear the clatter of the flatboats behind them, their cargo of wagons and livestock creaking as they navigated the currents. The smell of hay and earth wafted up, mingling with the river’s dampness, but Linda hardly noticed. Her heart felt heavy, the weight of loss still fresh, and every glance in Calvin’s direction was a reminder of Frank.

Calvin, ever the gentleman, stood a few paces away, speaking with the boat captain. She stole a quick glance at him. His broad shoulders were tense, and she noticed the way he adjusted his hat as if the sun were too bright for him to bear. The sight stirred a mix of anger and appreciation in her chest. He was here for her, after all, but it felt like an intrusion. Like everyone, he was underestimating her, and she was tired of it.

With a deep breath, she turned her gaze back to the river, focusing on the ripples reflecting the sunlight. The water shimmered a deceptive calmness that mirrored the chaos inside her. She felt a presence beside her, and her stomach tightened as Calvin stepped closer.

“Linda,” he said, his voice low but steady. “You don’t have to avoid me.”

She kept her eyes fixed on the river, refusing to acknowledge him. “I’m not avoiding you,” she replied, trying to sound casual. “I just… need some air.”

Calvin sighed, a sound carrying both frustration and understanding. “I know this is hard. It’s hard for me too.”

“Is it?” she shot back, finally turning to face him, her heart racing. “You made the choice to leave your family behind and come here. You don’t know what it’s like to lose someone.”

The words hung between them like a heavy mist. Calvin’s expression hardened, and Linda realized how foolish her statement was. “I lost my wife, if you will recall,” he reminded her in a clipped tone. “I lost Frank too, Linda. He was my friend. I came with you because of a promise I made.”

She shook her head, fighting against the tears that threatened to spill. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking.”

He nodded. “I wish I could take that pain away,” he said, stepping a little closer, his voice filled with sincerity. “But I can’t. No one can.”

Linda turned away again, her heart torn. She felt the pull of his words but was too afraid to let them in. “I don’t need your help, Calvin. I need to figure this out on my own.”

He remained silent for a moment, letting the weight of her words settle. “You don’t have to do this alone,” he finally said, his tone softer. “You have me. We can face this together.”

The sincerity in his voice caught her off guard, and she turned back to him, vulnerability creeping into her expression. “What if I can’t? What if I’m not strong enough?”

Calvin reached out, his hand brushing against hers, and she felt the warmth of his touch, grounding her in that moment. “You’re stronger than you know. That doesn’t mean you don’t sometimes need help. Let me help you.”

Linda nodded. He might say that, but his actions didn’t always leave her feeling like he believed it. For a fleeting moment, she considered the possibility of leaning on him, of allowing him to share the burden. But the thought of opening herself up again felt terrifying. “I don’t know if I can,” she whispered.

Calvin nodded, respect and understanding etched on his face. “Just remember, I’m here when you’re ready.” He stepped back, giving her the space she needed, but the unspoken connection between them lingered in the air.

As the riverboat glided further down the Tennessee, Linda watched the banks pass by, a part of her yearning for peace and solace amid the pain. She realized that while she could ignore Calvin, she couldn’t ignore the reality that they were bound together now—two souls adrift on the same uncertain journey.

Later, as she sat on a hard bench and continued to stare at the river, lost in her thoughts, an older man approached. His silver hair glinted in the sunlight, and he wore a well-worn coat that suggested both care and humility. He tipped his hat slightly, a gentle smile on his face.

“Good day to you, miss. I’m Reverend Samuel Whitaker. Would you mind if I joined you?”

She hesitated for a moment, then nodded, grateful for the distraction. “Of course, Reverend. I’m Linda Harper.” she introduced herself.

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance. I’ve heard about your plans to join the wagon train to Oregon,” he said with a smile as he settled beside her, his presence calm and reassuring.

“Yes, that’s right,” she replied, her voice soft.

For a moment, they both watched the water, the gentle lapping of the waves providing a soothing backdrop. “I must say,” he added, glancing at her with warm eyes, “there’s something remarkably peaceful about this river. It has a way of drawing out the soul, doesn’t it?”

Linda sighed, feeling the heaviness still lingering in her chest. “You’re right, Reverend, it does.”

The reverend tilted his head, encouraging her to continue. “What brings you on this journey, if you don’t mind my asking?”

Her mind immediately flashed to Calvin’s earlier comments, the way he’d dismissed the dream that had led her to seek a new beginning. A part of her felt reluctant to share her heart, but the kindness in Reverend Whitaker’s gaze made her reconsider.

“I… I left my home to start anew,” she admitted slowly, her voice barely above a whisper. She took a deep breath, the weight of her words pressing against her. “I lost my husband a year ago. Frank… he was everything to me. I thought… I thought I could find a way to carry on, to create a life away from the place that holds too much of his memory.”

Reverend Whitaker’s eyes softened further, and he nodded slowly, understanding the grief etched on her face. “That’s a heavy burden to bear. I’m so sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you,” she replied, feeling a flicker of warmth at his compassion. “But it’s not just about grief. It’s about hope.” She laughed and shook her head. “Sometimes I wonder if it’s foolish,” she admitted, her voice tinged with uncertainty. “Especially with everything that’s happened.”

“Foolishness is often the guise of courage,” he said, a twinkle in his eye. “To dare to dream is a gift, one that many lose along the way. It’s important to hold on to that dream, even when others may not understand it.”

Linda felt a swell of hope within her, a flicker igniting in the darkness. The talk of dreams felt like the Lord was telling her it was okay to talk about the one she had had, that this man who worked for him would understand.

Linda took a deep breath, deciding to trust him. “I had a dream. It felt so real, like a message from God. In it, I was told to leave, to find a new path. It gave me hope, a sense of purpose.”

The reverend smiled, his eyes twinkling with understanding. “‘We both had dreams,’ they answered, ‘but there is no one to interpret them.’” the reverend quoted. “Then Joseph said to them, ‘Do not interpretations belong to God? Tell me your dreams.’”

Linda answered his smile with one of her own. “Joseph in the prison with the baker and the cook,” she noted.

“Yes, God speaks to us in many ways, Linda. Dreams can be a powerful way for Him to communicate with us. It sounds like He’s guiding you on this journey.”

Linda felt a wave of relief wash over her. “You really think so?”

“I do,” Reverend Whitaker said, his voice gentle. “Faith is about trusting in God’s plan, even when it’s not clear to us. If your dream gave you the strength to move forward, then it’s a blessing.”

She nodded, feeling a renewed sense of determination. “Thank you, Reverend. It means so much to hear that.”

He patted her hand reassuringly. “You’re not alone, Linda. God is with you every step of the way. And so are those who care about you, even if they don’t always show it in the best way.”

Linda smiled, feeling a warmth in her heart. “Thank you. I needed to hear that, too.”

They sat together for a while longer, the river flowing peacefully beside them as Linda felt her resolve strengthen. She was ready to face whatever lay ahead, knowing she wasn’t truly alone.

For the first time since they had set off, Linda felt a flicker of light breaking through the clouds of doubt. “Thank you, Reverend.” She said again. “It helps to talk about it.”

“Anytime, my dear,” he said, offering her a reassuring smile. “We are all travelers on this river of life, seeking our own shores. Yours is a journey worth taking.”

As they sat together, watching the river flow, Linda felt a sense of calm beginning to settle within her. Even though she had been adamant, a part of her had started to wonder if maybe Calvin had been right and she was being foolish. Now, she was more secure in the knowledge that the Lord was with her. Who could stand against her?

Chapter 6

Independence, Missouri

Aside from the brief talk on the boat, Linda had barely said anything to Calvin since they left home. He didn’t care, though. He wasn’t there to be her friend. It seemed that closeness had died with Frank. All that mattered to him was her safety.

As Calvin walked through the bustling streets of Independence, Missouri, he felt a familiar mix of excitement and apprehension. The air was thick with dust and the mingled scents of fresh hay, cooking fires, and the ever-present musk of livestock. It was a town alive with purpose, a pivotal junction for countless pioneers.

The wooden buildings lining the main street were a patchwork of homes, shops, and taverns. Men in broad-brimmed hats hustled about, their voices rising above the clatter of hooves and wheels. He could see families gathered at general stores, bartering for supplies—flour, tools, and leather goods—all essential for the journey ahead. Calvin could almost feel the weight of their dreams and hopes hanging in the air, each person driven by a vision of a better life.

He paused to watch a group of children chasing each other near the riverbank, their laughter mingling with the shouts of nearby merchants advertising their wares. It reminded him of his boys at that age, full of energy and potential, eager to explore the world. He felt a pang of longing, knowing they were back at the ranch, wrestling with responsibilities he had left behind.

As he walked further into town, Calvin couldn’t help but notice the saloons with their swinging doors and the weary travelers lounging on porches, sipping whiskey to ease the burdens of the trail. The taverns were filled with tales of adventure, loss, and dreams yet to be realized. He wondered what stories would be spun about him when he returned home.

The church at one end of the town stood as a beacon of hope and community. He could see families gathering for services, their faces illuminated by the warm glow of faith and shared purpose. Calvin remembered the last sermon he had attended back home, the comforting words of his preacher resonating in his heart. Here, amid the rough-and-tumble frontier, that same sense of belonging was palpable.

Yet, for all its vibrancy, Independence was not without its shadows. Conflicts lingered in the air—between settlers and the native tribes and among those who were drawn to the promise of land and opportunity. Calvin felt a tension beneath the surface, an uncertainty that accompanied the spirit of adventure. It reminded him of the risks that came with pursuing one’s dreams.

Holding his list, he entered the general store; he had only so much time until he had to go back to the wagons with everything. He had volunteered to get the last-minute things everyone seemed to now need. The trip would be a relief, away from the tension that was still between him and Linda.

As Calvin browsed the shelves of the general goods store, his mind was preoccupied with the supplies he needed for the journey. He picked up a tin of coffee, examining it absently. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a woman who seemed familiar, her profile striking a chord deep within him.

His heart stopped, then began to race. It couldn’t be, but the resemblance was uncanny. He felt a surge of hope and disbelief. “Charlotte?” he called out, his voice trembling.

The woman turned, meeting his eyes with a frown. She was not Charlotte. Her expression was one of confusion and mild annoyance. “I’m sorry, do I know you?” she asked.

Calvin’s face flushed with embarrassment. “I… I’m sorry. I thought you were someone else,” he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. He quickly turned away, his heart pounding in his chest.

He rushed through his shopping and out of the store, the cool air hitting his face as he stepped outside. His mind was a whirlwind of emotions—shock, sorrow, and a deep sense of loss. He had known it was impossible, but for a brief moment, he had allowed himself to hope.

Calvin made his way back to the encampment, his steps heavy with the weight of his memories. He found a quiet spot away from the others and sat down, his hands trembling. Despite his attempt to steady himself with a deep breath, the encounter had shaken him more than he cared to admit.

He closed his eyes, the image of the woman still vivid in his mind. It had been years since Charlotte’s passing, but the pain of her loss was still fresh. He had thought he had moved on, but moments like this reminded him how deeply she was etched into his heart.

As he sat there, the sounds of the camp around him, Calvin allowed himself a moment of grief, a silent tribute to the woman he had loved and lost. Most days, he forgot the pain, but it was ever there. How could it not be given how much he had loved her and she, him? He understood Linda more than he was willing to admit. He understood the need to run away from the place they had been happy. But the funny thing about memories was that you carried them wherever you went.

The wagon trail encampment was bustling with activity as families prepared for the long journey ahead. Amidst the organized chaos, Calvin sat alone, his thoughts heavy and his heart troubled. He stared at the ground, lost in the memories that had been stirred by the encounter in the general store.

Reverend Samuel Whitaker, noticing Calvin’s distress, approached him with a gentle smile. “Calvin, may I sit with you for a moment?” he asked, his voice kind and understanding.

Calvin looked up, his eyes weary. “Sure, Reverend,” he replied, though his tone lacked enthusiasm.

The reverend settled beside him, taking a moment to observe the bustling camp. “You seem troubled, my friend. Sometimes, the heaviest burdens are those we carry alone.”

Calvin sighed, his gaze returning to the ground. “I appreciate your concern, Reverend, but I’m fine.”

Reverend Whitaker nodded, undeterred. “You know, James 1:19 says, ‘My dear brothers and sisters, take note of this: Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry.’ Sometimes, sharing our burdens can lighten the load.”

Calvin’s jaw tightened, and he shook his head. “Thanks, but no thanks, Reverend. I don’t want to hear any of it right now.”

The reverend placed a reassuring hand on Calvin’s shoulder. “I understand. Just know that I’m here if you ever need to talk. We all need a little support now and then.”

Calvin nodded, though his expression remained guarded. “I appreciate it, Reverend. Really, I do. But I need to handle this on my own.”

Reverend Whitaker gave him a sympathetic smile. “Alright, Calvin. Just remember, you’re not alone. We’re all children of God, in this together.”

Then why had God taken his wife and left him to struggle with two grieving young children? Where had He been when Calvin became a mess and couldn’t handle things on his ranch and care for them?

With that, the reverend stood and walked away, leaving Calvin to his dark thoughts. Calvin watched him go, a part of him grateful for the reverend’s kindness, even if he wasn’t ready to accept it. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. There was a long journey ahead, and he needed to be strong—for himself and for those he had promised to protect. There was no use in dwelling on things he couldn’t change.

***

Calvin had been rather grumpy ever since they had left Independence. It had been two days, the first part of their journey on the trail, and he was ruining it for her with his mood. Even though she chose to ignore him, his mood still affected her. Regardless, she was excited, especially as she had met and befriended some of the women on the trail with her.

There was Sarah, a widow like her, who was also making the journey with the intention of making a new start. They seemed to have quite a bit in common. Then, there was Elijah Green’s wife, Daisy, a kind older woman who had taken the journey countless times with her husband. She made Linda feel like there was not much danger to the trip despite Calvin’s misgivings.

The sky darkened ominously. She looked up to see the storm rolling in, clouds churning like a pot boiling over. Linda hurried about the camp, her heart racing. She glanced around for Calvin, but the wind picked up, making it hard to hear anything above its howling or even to see much.

Suddenly, a gust tore at the canvas of their wagon, one side breaking free. Linda lunged to grab it, but the rope whipped back, catching her cheek. She cried out, frustration mingling with the sharp sting of the rope. She fought against the wind, trying to tie the tent down again, but it was a losing battle.

Just then, strong hands grabbed the flapping canvas, pulling it taut. Linda looked up, surprised to see Mary Ann Carter, a frontier woman the other travelers said was known for her resilience and skill on the frontier. “Hold it steady,” Mary Ann instructed, her voice firm against the roaring wind.

Linda nodded, grateful for the help. Together, they worked quickly, Mary Ann deftly tying knots and securing the canvas as Linda watched in awe. The other woman moved with a confidence born of experience, her hands sure and steady.

“Thank you,” Linda said breathlessly as they finished. “I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”

Mary Ann simply nodded, her expression unreadable, before turning to secure her wagon. There was a quiet strength about her, a sense of purpose that Linda found both admirable and inspiring.

As the first drops of rain began to fall, Linda felt a surge of gratitude. In a world filled with uncertainty, moments like this reminded her that help often came from unexpected places. Still, she hoped Calvin would return soon. Against her better judgment, she found herself worried about him.

Linda spotted Calvin emerging from the trees, his clothes rumpled and damp. His long, confident strides ate up the distance, the wind not even a hindrance as he made his way to their wagon and climbed in. A frown etched across his face as he looked at Linda. “What happened to your face?” he asked, concern momentarily breaking through her irritation.

Linda touched her cheek, where the rope had left a red mark. “Nothing I couldn’t handle. The canvas got loose in the wind. I had to fix it myself.”

Calvin’s brow furrowed deeper. “You shouldn’t have had to do that alone.”

“Where were you?” Linda snapped, her frustration boiling over. “You disappeared just when I needed you. You insisted on coming along but aren’t there when you could be useful. I’d rather be out in this storm than stuck in that wagon with you!”

“Be my guest,” Calvin shot back, anger flaring in his eyes. “You could have waited for me to come back, but you have to do everything by yourself, don’t you!”

Linda folded her arms tightly, turning away from him, her heart racing. “Maybe I wouldn’t have to if you hadn’t come along. I would have shared the wagon with someone more experienced!”

Calvin leaned closer, his voice lowering but still charged. “It’s not that easy for me, Linda. You think I’m just—”

“I don’t care what you think!” she interrupted, her voice rising. “You insisted on coming along, and I just want to feel like I can rely on you. But every time something goes wrong, you’re nowhere to be found!”

The storm roared above them, but at that moment, the tension between them felt even more powerful. Calvin clenched his fists, frustration etched on his features, while Linda stared resolutely away, trying to mask the hurt beneath her anger and the fear that he could be right. That she wasn’t as ready to face this journey if a storm could best her.

The rain began to pour down more steadily, and the wind howled around them, but their argument hung heavy in the air, just as turbulent as the approaching storm. Linda sat across from him, her arms crossed, staring out into the distance. She felt a pang of regret for lashing out at him but quickly pushed it aside. She needed to be strong, to stand on her own. No matter how much it hurt, she couldn’t let herself rely on anyone else. It hurt too much when they left, and one thing she was sure of was that Calvin Turner would be leaving her.

Chapter 7

Calvin felt a pang of guilt as he watched Linda turn away from him, the weight of spoken and unspoken words hanging heavily between them. Ever since that day when he saw the woman who resembled Charlotte, the only way he could cope with the memories of his loss was to retreat into himself. It was easier to shut the world out to avoid the ache of what he’d lost. But now, as he saw Linda’s sorrow etched on her face, he couldn’t ignore the truth any longer—he had promised to be there for her during this trip.

He couldn’t tell her why he wasn’t there when she was hurt, why his mind had been a tangled mess of grief and confusion. But he could still take care of her, and that was a start.

Linda was beautiful, even when her face was etched with her grief for all to see. Her fair skin seemed to glow in the soft light. Her thick, vibrant chestnut brown hair framed her face, accentuating her brilliant eyes that held both warmth and a flicker of sadness.

Calvin couldn’t shake the thought that there was still a chance for her to find happiness again, to marry a kind widower who would accept her despite the fact that she had never been able to have a child. Yet he worried that if she were to scar, that mark on her face might be a barrier, something that could turn away those who might otherwise see her true worth. If she was to have a fresh start, she deserved every advantage.

Taking a deep breath, Calvin reached into his bag and pulled out a small tin of ointment. “Linda,” he called softly, drawing closer, his heart racing as he wondered if she would accept his care. “Let me help with that cut.”

She turned back to him, her expression wary yet curious. “Why? So you can scold me for being careless?” The edge in her voice made it clear she wasn’t ready to forgive him for their fight.

“No,” he said quietly, meeting her gaze with sincerity. “I promised I’d be here for you. And I intend to keep that promise.”

Linda hesitated for a moment, weighing her options. Finally, she nodded, allowing him to approach. As he gently applied the ointment to her cut, his touch was careful and tender. She winced slightly at the sting but didn’t pull away, a small sign of trust that warmed something deep inside him.

“Thank you,” she murmured after he finished, her voice softer now, a hint of vulnerability breaking through her tough exterior.

Calvin nodded, feeling the weight of his own unspoken words pressing on his chest. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you needed me. But I’m here now, and I won’t leave your side.” His words hung in the air, an unbreakable vow amidst the chaos of their emotions.

Over the next few days, Calvin worked hard to prove his words true. He did his best to stay close to Linda, always watching over her, ensuring she had everything she needed. He cooked for her, shared stories to lighten the heavy silence, and offered a comforting presence whenever she seemed lost in thought. Each moment spent together was a chance for him to show her that he was committed to her healing, even as he grappled with his own pain.

Though he couldn’t erase the past or the scars it left behind, he could be there for her now. Offering his support and protection, he found that in caring for Linda, he was beginning to let go of his troubled memories—slowly, piece by piece, amid the shadows of his loss. Together, they navigated the delicate balance of their emotions, forging a connection built on shared vulnerability and quiet understanding.

***

Linda felt tense as she watched Calvin. He was flitting between two extremes: one moment, he was aloof, his gaze distant and filled with unspoken thoughts, and the next, he was hovering over her, almost protective to a fault. It left her bewildered, caught between a desire for his company and an urge to push him away. Ever since the storm, he hadn’t left her side, and it was now suffocating.

She wanted to tell him to stop, to demand that he give her space, but she also didn’t want to go back to the constant arguments they seemed to have. As she sat by the campfire, trying to enjoy a moment of peace, Calvin’s constant presence was beginning to wear on her nerves. She glanced at him, his eyes scanning the horizon as if expecting danger at any moment.

“Calvin,” she said, her voice tinged with frustration. “You don’t have to hover over me all the time. I can take care of myself.”

He turned to her, his expression closed and determined. “I know you can, Linda. But I promised to be here for you, and I intend to keep that promise.”

Lord, she was sick of hearing that, but she was also too tired to start an argument. She sighed, rubbing her temples. “I appreciate that, but you’re smothering me. I need some space to breathe, to think.”

Calvin’s face softened, and he took a step back. “I’m sorry. I just don’t want anything else to happen to you.”

Linda looked at him, seeing the genuine worry in his eyes. She softened her tone. “I understand, Calvin. But you need to trust me. I’m not as fragile as you think.”

He nodded slowly, taking a deep breath. “Alright. I’ll give you some space. But if you need anything, I’m here.”

“Thank you,” she said, offering a small smile. “I’ll let you know if I need help.”

Calvin gave her a nod and moved a little further away, giving her the space she needed. Linda watched him go, feeling a mix of relief and gratitude. She knew he meant well, but she needed to find her own way to prove to herself that she could handle whatever came her way.

Given that God had called her to make this journey, she needed to prove she was up for whatever He had called her to do. For the rest of the day, he let her be, and the constriction she had been feeling against her temple eased. The other women teased her about Calvin’s overprotectiveness, but it was all in good fun, and she enjoyed their company.

She and Calvin had an easier time together, and she went to sleep with the hope that the journey would be more pleasant from then on. The next morning, Linda rose early, determined to gather firewood for their morning fire. The camp was still quiet, the first light of dawn casting a soft glow over the landscape. She moved through the underbrush, picking up sticks and branches, her mind focused on the task at hand.

But just as she picked up a sturdy branch, a rattlesnake coiled nearby, striking out with a swift, deadly precision. The sound of its warning rattle echoing in her ears was the only thing that saved her, its fangs missing her by mere inches. She screamed and dropped the wood, stumbling back in fear.

Calvin, who had been nearby, heard her scream and rushed to her side. He quickly spotted the snake and, with a swift motion, dispatched it with his boot. Turning to Linda, his face full of anger and concern.

“Are you okay?” he asked, breathless and on high alert.

Linda, still shaken, looked up at him, her hand clutching over her rapidly beating heart. “I’m fine! Just startled.”

“What were you thinking, going off on your own like that?” he yelled, his voice harsh. “You need to be more careful!”

Linda’s fear quickly turned to anger. “Stop treating me like a child, Calvin! I can take care of myself!”

“Then stop acting like one!” he shot back, his eyes blazing. “You could have been seriously hurt or worse!”

She glared at him, her fists clenched. “I don’t need you to protect me every second of the day. I can handle myself!”

“You keep saying that, but I haven’t seen proof of the fact!”

“How can I prove it when you’re always hovering over me, treating me like I’m incompetent? Are you going to start cutting up my meat for me, too? Who knows, maybe I’ll stab myself with the table knife.”

“I wouldn’t put it past you.”

She glared up at his thunderous face. “I have lived thirty years without you, and I managed just fine, Calvin Turner!”

“Given your recent questionable judgment, I’d say you only survived because someone else was looking after you.”

“Why you…you…” Linda couldn’t even come up with a proper description of how infuriating Calvin was. With a frustrated scream, she gathered her skirts and marched back to the camp.

I guess it’s back to ignoring the overbearing man, she thought to herself. It hadn’t even been a day since he had backed off, and already things were going sideways. Could she really be as incompetent as he thought?

***

As the campfire crackled softly, the reverend’s voice floated through the cool night air, woven with the sounds of the wilderness. Calvin sat beside the wagon, the weight of his grief heavy on his shoulders. He had thought the memories were back in the box he had stuffed them in, but he was wrong. From where he sat, he could see the flickering glow of the fire casting shadows on the faces of the others gathered around, their expressions reflective and solemn.

Though he was as far from the fire as the camp would allow, he could still hear the Reverend. Whitaker spoke of loss as a part of the human experience, a bridge to understanding life’s deeper meanings.

“In every ending,” he preached, “there is a promise of a new beginning.” Calvin clenched his fists, feeling the sting of fresh memories—the laughter, the warmth, the quiet moments shared with his wife. They had planned so many journeys together, dreaming of new horizons, but now he was alone.

Though he tried to block out the Reverend’s words, snippets seeped through his defenses. “We carry our loved ones with us, in our hearts, in our stories. It is through remembering them that we find strength to carry on.” Calvin’s breath hitched at the thought. Could he really keep her alive in his memory, even as he felt so utterly lost?

To avoid the sermon, he looked up at the stars twinkling overhead, each one a distant reminder of the vastness of life. He remembered the nights they had spent stargazing, her laughter blending with the sounds of the night. He closed his eyes, letting the warmth of those memories wash over him. Maybe there was some truth in Whitaker’s words.

As the service continued, Calvin found himself wrestling with the idea of renewal. Could he, too, find a way to move forward without forgetting? The thought frightened him, but it also flickered with the promise of hope. He opened his eyes, watching the flickering flames and the faces around him, some smiling, some tearful.

Finally, he stood, his heart pounding as he stepped away from the wagon, drawn towards the circle of light and community. Perhaps it was time to begin again, to honor her memory by embracing life once more. But he found he just couldn’t, not yet. It hurt that God had taken her from him so young, they should have grown old together. He sat back down and once again tried to ignore the words of hope that were being preached. What good was the promised land to those who were left behind?

Calvin remained in the shadows, his gaze fixed on the distant glow of the campfire. He was still looking at it when Linda approached. He felt the shift in the air, the crackle of tension still lingering from their earlier fight. When she sat beside him without prompting, he was taken aback. Her presence was unexpected, yet somehow comforting.

“Why didn’t you come for the sermon?” she asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

He shrugged, unable to articulate the swirl of emotions within him. The words felt stuck in his throat, tangled with anger, sorrow, and something else he didn’t want to acknowledge. Silence fell between them, heavy but not entirely uncomfortable.

Calvin stole a glance at her. Linda’s expression was etched with a familiar blend of pain, resignation, and understanding. They had both suffered losses that felt insurmountable, and for a moment, that shared understanding anchored them. It was as if the unspoken grief they carried formed a bridge between them, spanning the chasm created by their earlier confrontation.

He could see the way her eyes reflected the firelight, mirroring the flicker of emotions that danced within him. The night wrapped around them, isolating them from the rest of the wagon train yet making their connection all the more palpable. Each heartbeat seemed to resonate with the unprocessed pain they both felt, a rhythm that tied their grief together.

After a few moments, he turned to face her fully, his voice low. “It’s just… hard,” he admitted, the weight of his vulnerability startling him.

Linda nodded slowly, her gaze steady. “I get it,” she replied, her voice gentle. “I lost Frank, and sometimes it feels like I’m just going through the motions.”

In that shared admission, something shifted. Calvin felt the edges of his own grief soften, replaced by a flicker of empathy for her loss. He thought of the memories they both carried—fragments of lives that felt so far away yet still lived on in their hearts.

As they sat in silence, Calvin found a sense of solace in her presence. They didn’t need to fill the space with words; the weight of their understanding was enough.

Calvin took a deep breath, the cool night air filling his lungs as he turned to Linda. “I’m sorry I wasn’t around more after Frank died,” he said, the weight of his words settling between them in the quiet of the night.

Linda looked at him, her expression softening. “You didn’t owe me anything, Calvin,” she replied, her tone gentle yet firm. “We were both dealing with pain, and you had your ranch to see to.”

But Calvin shook his head. “I know that, but I still feel sorry. I understand what it’s like to lose that one person you thought you’d grow old with.” He paused, the memory of his wife’s laughter echoing in his mind. “It’s like part of you is gone, and you’re left trying to figure out how to live without them.”

Silence fell again between them, but it was no longer heavy with unspoken tension; instead, it felt filled with a fragile understanding. Linda leaned in slightly, her eyes searching his. “It’s hard to find your way back after that,” she said softly. “Every day feels like a reminder of what’s missing.”

Calvin nodded, feeling a deep resonance in her words. “I keep expecting things to get easier, but sometimes it feels like it just… doesn’t.” He chuckled softly, though it was tinged with sadness. “I thought time would help, but instead, it often just amplifies the emptiness.”

Linda sighed, her gaze drifting to the flickering flames. “It’s the same for me. I thought I’d have it all figured out by now, but some days are just a struggle to get through. I miss him every minute, and I don’t know how to let go.”

As the night wore on, their conversation flowed easily, like a river finding its course. They shared stories of their loved ones, little moments that brought smiles even through the tears. Calvin spoke of quiet evenings spent on the porch while Linda reminisced about Frank’s laughter during their quiet moments and then of her family gatherings.

“I thought I was alone in this,” she admitted after a pause, her voice barely above a whisper. “I thought everyone else was moving on while I was stuck in place.”

Calvin met her gaze, and in that moment, he saw not just her pain but the strength it took to face it. “I think we’re all a bit lost in our own ways,” he said, realizing how true that felt. “But maybe we can help each other find our way.”

Their eyes locked, and a silent agreement formed between them. In sharing their grief, they began to illuminate paths toward healing—slow, tentative, but filled with possibility. As they sat side by side beneath the vast expanse of stars, Calvin felt a flicker of hope ignite within him. Perhaps together, they could navigate the darkness, finding light in their shared journey.

Chapter 8

There was an intangible shift between Linda and Calvin the next morning. A part of her thought they would once more go back to the tension that defined their relationship, but there was an ease that had not been there before. The morning sun rose slowly, casting a warm glow over the camp as they prepared for the day ahead. As Calvin moved about, gathering supplies, Linda couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted between them. The air felt lighter, almost electric, and she sensed a change in the way they navigated the space around each other.

Linda approached him with a hesitant smile, and for a moment, the weight of their past tensions hung in the air. She braced herself for the familiar strain, expecting the discomfort that had defined their interactions since Frank’s death. But as they exchanged morning pleasantries, a surprising ease filled the space instead.

After last night, Linda realized she didn’t know Calvin all that much. When Frank had seen him through the dark times after the loss of his wife, Linda had been dealing with yet another miscarriage. One that had led her to believe she would never get to hold a baby of her own. She had never asked what had gone on between him and Frank.

Even when he had come to their place afterward, it had just been polite conversations between them. Whatever Frank had done, it had to have been so profound that Calvin would feel obligated to undertake this journey just to keep her safe.

“Ready for another long day?” she asked, her voice bright but laced with an undercurrent of uncertainty.

Calvin nodded, returning her smile. “I guess we’re getting used to it by now,” he replied, a hint of laughter in his tone. The sound felt foreign yet refreshing as if they were stepping into new territory together.

As they worked side by side, preparing the wagon and checking their supplies, they fell into a rhythm that felt natural. Linda handed him a bundle of provisions, their fingers brushing briefly. A spark of warmth passed between them, and Calvin caught her eye, the connection lingering longer than it had in the past.

“Thanks,” he said, his voice softer than before. “I appreciate you helping out.”

She looked up, her expression shifting from surprise to something deeper—an acknowledgment of the unspoken bond that was beginning to form. “I appreciate you, too,” she replied, her sincerity evident. “I didn’t expect we would be like this, but… it’s nice.”

He laughed again, and Linda realized she hadn’t heard him laugh before today. “Yes, it’s nice not to fight for once.”

As the day unfolded, they found themselves laughing over small moments—misplaced tools, the antics of the children on the trail, and even their shared struggles with the stubborn cattle. The laughter echoed like a balm over their shared pain, creating a space where they could breathe a little easier.

Calvin told her about his sons, how they had been growing up, and how they were now. She caught herself stealing glances at him, noticing how his laughter lit up his face and how he seemed to shine through the cracks of grief. It was as if, together; they were beginning to weave a tapestry of healing, thread by thread.

In the quiet moments between tasks, they exchanged stories and shared memories that felt less like burdens and more like gifts—pieces of their loved ones that could be celebrated rather than solely mourned. With each passing hour, the tension that once loomed over them transformed into a tentative understanding, a fragile but blossoming friendship.

Despite the fact that many men would have considered it beneath them, Calvin went with her to fetch water. Their encampments were always close to a river of some sort so his excuse of keeping her safe was just that. She smiled inwardly and found comfort in the occasional brush of his arm against hers.

By the time the sun began to set, casting a golden hue over the horizon, Linda realized she felt lighter. The heaviness of loss hadn’t vanished, but it had shifted, becoming a shared experience rather than a solitary one. And as she glanced at Calvin, she was shocked to find she enjoyed talking to him.

With the last of the rays casting a golden glow across the rugged landscape, Linda felt the familiar thrill of evening settling in. It was the satisfaction of managing a day’s journey with comparable ease.

The air was sharp, filled with the scent of pine and wood smoke as the group circled their wagons, forming a protective embrace against the encroaching darkness. The crackle of the fire sparked to life, illuminating the faces of her fellow travelers, weary yet hopeful after another long but trouble-free day on the trail.

As they sat circling the fire, Mary Anna, with her serious, no-nonsense demeanor, took center stage. She leaned closer to the flames as she began to weave cautioning yet entertaining tales of the trail. She sat up straight, her gaze decisive. Her dark hair, tinged with a bit of gray, was tied back in a severe knot. Yet there was no mistaking the gentleness beneath her competent purposefulness.

Beside her, the young scout, Joshua Bennett, his bright eyes shining with mischief, chimed in. His stories were of wild animals and treacherous river crossings that had the children wide-eyed with excitement. Josh was a young man in his mid-twenties with laugh lines radiating from around his eyes. His face was rugged in the way that men became when they worked hard for a living.

Confidence broadened his shoulders as he stood tall in everything he did, and a smile rarely left his face. Unless he was out scouting, then his focus was rather daunting, his brown eyes seeming to see everything about him. Linda listened intently, drawn in by their animated gestures and laughter, the warmth of camaraderie wrapping around her like a favorite blanket.

But amidst the storytelling, Linda’s gaze drifted to the opposite side of the fire, where Calvin sat, his rugged features softened by the flickering light. He was leaning back, arms crossed, a relaxed but small smile playing on his lips as he engaged with the others. In the firelight, his features seemed softer, more approachable. She found herself admiring the strong lines of his face, the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled.

There was something magnetic about him—his dark hair tousled from the day’s ride and the way his eyes hooded with leashed self-assurance. For a moment, she found herself lost in admiration, tracing the strong lines of his jaw and the intensity of his expression. She allowed herself to simply look at him, appreciating the man who had been both a source of frustration and unexpected support.

But then she caught herself, her heart racing as she realized she was staring. With a sudden flush creeping up her cheeks, she quickly averted her gaze, focusing on the flames as they danced and flickered. She hoped no one had noticed, especially not Calvin. The storytelling continued, but the warmth of the fire paled in comparison to the warmth spreading through her at the thought of Calvin. She felt like a moth drawn to a flame, both exhilarated and apprehensive. Confused.

As laughter erupted from the group, Linda couldn’t help but glance back at him, stealing another quick look. This time, Calvin met her gaze, and her breath caught in her throat. Flustered and even more flushed, she returned her attention to Mary Anna’s tale, her heart fluttering in her chest. She tried to concentrate on the story, but the world around her faded into a hazy blur, leaving her with thoughts she didn’t want to face or examine. The crackling fire and the sound of laughter mingled with those thoughts, creating a symphony of warmth and a strangely wistful longing.

Unable to quiet her wayward thoughts and feeling conspicuous, Linda decided it was time to retire for the night. Making her excuses, she made her way to her wagon, the cool night air a welcome relief after the warmth of the fire. From the heat that still inflamed her cheeks. As she approached her wagon, she noticed a figure sitting in the shadows by a nearby wagon, shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

The figure’s light blonde hair shone like a beacon in the scant light from the fire, the only reason she had been able to see her. It was Sarah Williams, the young widow who, come to think of it, hadn’t joined their group by the fire. Linda’s heart went out to her. Quietly, she walked over and knelt beside Sarah.

“Sarah,” she said softly, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

Sarah looked up, her ice-gray eyes red and swollen from crying. “Oh, Linda,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I just… I miss him so much. I don’t know how to do this without him.”

Linda’s heart ached for her. The younger woman had a young child, and Linda could imagine the toll such a journey was with him. She sat down beside Sarah, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “I know it’s hard,” she said gently. “Losing someone you love is the hardest thing in the world. But you’re not alone. We’re all here for you.”

Sarah leaned into Linda’s embrace, her sobs quieting a little. “It’s just… everything reminds me of him. I feel so lost without him.”

Linda nodded, understanding all too well. A part of her was still crippled by Frank’s loss, the emptiness he had left behind. It was the main driving force that had led her to relocate, to take this journey. Linda thought Sarah had had the same thought but it didn’t seem to be working. For her oart Linda still missed Frank, but the rigours of the trail pushed that aside.

“It’s okay to feel that way.” She assured the younger woman. “Grief is a heavy burden, and it’s not something you have to carry alone. We’re all here to help you through this. Remember, there is no limit to how much or how long you get to feel it.”

Sarah sniffled, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. “Thank you, Linda. I just feel so weak sometimes.”

“You’re not weak,” Linda assured her, remembering her own sense of inadequacy. “You’re one of the strongest people I know. It takes incredible strength to keep going after such a loss. And you’re doing it, one day at a time.”

Sarah managed a small, grateful smile. “I don’t know what I’d do without you all.”

Linda squeezed her shoulder. “And you won’t have to find out. We’re a family out here, and we take care of each other. If you ever need to talk or just need someone to sit with you, I’m here.”

Sarah nodded, her tears slowing. “Thank you, Linda. That means a lot.”

They sat together for a while longer, the quiet night wrapping around them like a comforting blanket. From the fire, they could still hear the laughter and teasing. Somehow, it made the sorrow of the moment less intense. It gave them the sense that joy was always around, inviting them to join in. Eventually, Sarah’s breathing evened out, and Linda helped her back to her wagon, making sure she was settled for the night.

As Linda made her way to her bed, she felt a sense of peace. Despite the challenges and the heartache, the trip was already turning out to have been a good idea. Yet now that the tension between her and Calvin was settling, she found herself confused by him in a new way. Linda just wished she could understand what had happened in that single glance across the fire.

Chapter 9

Calvin wiped the sweat from his brow as he squinted against the relentless sun beating down on the arid plains. The horizon shimmered like a mirage, a cruel joke in this vast, unforgiving expanse. Dust clung to his clothes, and his throat felt like sandpaper. The air was thick with the scent of sweat and fatigue; he could see the same weariness etched into the faces of the others on the trail.

From the start of their journey, the mornings had been cool, and they had made the most of them. Today, though, had not been like that, dawning with unrelenting heat, which made each small movement laborious.

“Water’s running low,” he muttered to himself, glancing at the half-empty canteen strapped to his side. The constant worry gnawed at him, each drop he drank precious. With each mile in this vast emptiness, nothing in sight as far as he could see, he was reminded of how far they still had to go.

At present, Linda was in the back of the wagon, out of the brutality of the searing heat. He knew she would soon be coming to sit beside him, as she had been doing all morning, escaping the suffocating heat the back offered. Water was the only respite they had, but even it was too warm to be as effective.

Elijah, their wagon master, finally called for a halt, his voice strained but resolute. “We can’t push the animals any further in this heat! We’ll burn them out.” Calvin nodded in agreement, relief flooding through him. As much as he hated to stop, it was clear they all needed the break.

They had reached a place in the plains where there was a scattering of trees, and they stopped under their shades. The train of wagons settled into an uneasy quiet. The only sounds were the low moans of the oxen and the rustle of the wind. Calvin slid off his wagon, grateful for the brief respite. He moved toward the nearest tree away from the wagons, a lone sentinel against the scorched landscape, and collapsed in its shade.

The others began to gather around, sharing what little water they had. Calvin pulled his canteen from his belt, hoping it would last through the rest of the day. “We need to find a good spot for tonight,” he said, glancing up at Elijah, who was wiping his forehead with a grimy kerchief.

“A stream would be ideal,” Elijah replied, surveying the land. “I know there is one close by, and I’ll send out a few scouts once the sun dips a bit lower. We need to keep the animals hydrated.”

The animals always got the water rations first as their wagons depended on them. Then the children followed by the women with the men last. Calvin had been drinking a sip every half hour or so and knew the other men were doing the same.

Calvin watched the horizon again, feeling the heat radiating from the ground. Breath was hard to draw in, a reminder of the challenges they faced—not just the scorching sun but the uncertainty that lay ahead. Even so, he was surprised that what he felt most was a flicker of determination. They were on a journey to a place he had never dreamt of going, and he wouldn’t let the plains break their spirit.

“Let’s make the most of this stop,” he suggested. “Check the supplies, fix what we can.”

“Yes,” Elijah agreed as he and Calvin watched Josh and his fellow scouts watering their cattle.

As the group of passengers settled under the sparse shade, the heat beat down relentlessly, but Reverend Whitaker’s presence seemed to lift the weight of the sun momentarily. He stood a little apart, gesturing animatedly as he spoke, in contrast to the debilitating heat. His voice was a calming anchor amid the struggle.

“Friends,” he began, his tone fervent, “As it is written in Exodus 16:4, ‘Then the Lord said to Moses, I will rain down bread from heaven for you.”’ We,must persevere in our faith.”

Calvin listened intently despite the distance he’d kept from the church and God. Though there was something magnetic about Reverend Whitaker’s passion, a fire that lit a spark of hope in even the most weary souls. The others leaned in, nodding along, their eyes reflecting a mix of fatigue and reverence.

He didn’t want to listen, but there had always been something magnetic about the assurance God gave. As much as he tried to ignore it, the parallels between life and the Bible were always there. Pain happened to everyone and he wasn’t an exception, yet his heart wanted to hold on to his.

“We find our way through these trials,” the reverend continued, his voice rising with fervor. “Each stop is a chance for renewal, a moment to gather strength for the road ahead. God provides that rest as He provides for everything we need.”

Calvin admired the way the reverend wove the scriptures into their plight. It wasn’t just talk; it felt like a lifeline thrown into the churning waters of doubt. He thought of the days before this journey, how he had distanced himself from faith, convinced it was a crutch for those who couldn’t face the world as it was. But in this moment, surrounded by people clinging to the reverend’s words, he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of longing.

“Remember, friends,” Whitaker said, looking each person in the eye, “God provides for those who believe and trust in Him. We, too, are His children. We are not alone in this journey. We have each other, and He gives us the strength to carry on.”

The crowd murmured their agreement, and Calvin felt a swell of camaraderie. It wasn’t just the reverend’s faith that was contagious; it was the sense of purpose he instilled in everyone. Calvin realized he admired that—a man who could hold fast to his beliefs in the face of adversity. He found himself wanting to believe, if only for a moment, that perhaps there was something more to this moment of the journey than mere survival.

As the reverend’s voice wove through his encouraging words on sustenance and perseverance, Calvin felt the warmth of their temporary community envelop him. The heat of the plains still bore down, but beneath the shade, under the reverend’s guiding light, hope flickered like a candle in the dark.

Too soon, the reverend’s words petered out, his emotional spirit slowly giving way to the oppressive heat that seemed to return with a vengeance. It was as if the sun had noticed the moment of uplift and decided to smother it, pushing down on them like a heavy blanket. The air grew thick, and Calvin could feel the weariness settling back into the bones of the gathered crowd.

One by one, the people began to slouch, their faces falling into listless expressions. Children, who had once listened with wide eyes, now stared blankly at the ground, their energy drained. The hopeful spark ignited by the reverend’s words flickered and dimmed, replaced by the relentless pull of exhaustion.

Calvin shifted in his spot, the shade feeling more like a prison than a refuge. He watched as a few of the women pulled their shawls tighter around their shoulders, their spirits weighed down by the oppressive atmosphere. Even Elijah looked weary, his usual resolve slipping as he glanced at the horizon, searching for any sign of relief.

Calvin decided he needed a break from the heat and the weight of the depressing air. Walking in the direction the scouts had gone, he soon spotted a small stream nearby, its water glistening like a promise beneath the fading sun. No one was around. Without a second thought, he made his way over, eager to cool off and wash away the day’s weariness.

As he waded into the refreshing water, a wave of relief washed over him. He submerged himself fully, letting the coolness envelop him. Just as he resurfaced, shaking droplets from his hair, he caught a glimpse of movement on the bank.

Linda stood there, her wide eyes fixed on him, and the moment their gazes met, she quickly turned her head away, her cheeks flushing a deep crimson. Calvin couldn’t help but chuckle. “Linda! You don’t want to come in?” he called, splashing water playfully in her direction. “The water is great and will cool you down.”

It had been a long time since Calvin had felt playful, and he was grateful to her for that. Since the death of his wife, and maybe before that, he had become too consumed with his ranch to realize that life was meant to be lived. To be enjoyed.

She hesitated, biting her lip. “I… um, I can’t swim,” she confessed, her voice barely carrying over the gentle babble of the stream.

Calvin raised an eyebrow, surprised. “Really? Well, that’s nothing to worry about! I can teach you.” He waded closer to the bank, trying to encourage her with a warm smile. “The water feels amazing, and I promise I’ll keep you safe.”

She gave him a mock glare. “You, sir, are obsessed with my safety.” she said.

Calvin grinned at her. “I am ever your humble servant.” he bowed as much as the water would allow him.

Linda giggled at that before her hand covered her mouth to hold it back. She sounded like a carefree young woman then and Calvin wanted to keep her in that light mood. “As your sworn protector, I will punish even this river were it to dare harm you!” he declared.

She threw her head back and laughed at the absurdity. When she calmed down, she gave him a graceful curtsy. “Sir Turner, you are most kind.” she complimented.

Calvin was now in the shallows and gave her a courtly bow in turn, she blushed rather prettily before looking away. When she

glanced back at him, uncertainty was etched on her face. “I don’t know… what if I sink?”

“You won’t sink,” he assured her, stepping onto the muddy bank and extending his hand. “I’ll be right there with you. Just think of it as an adventure. We can’t let a little water hold us back, can we?”

After a moment of contemplation, Linda’s tentative expression softened. “Alright,” she finally agreed, a mixture of excitement and nerves in her eyes. “But just a little. I really don’t want to get in over my head.”

“Perfect!” Calvin grinned, his heart racing with adrenaline and something else—something warmer. He helped her step into the water, her initial hesitation melting away as she felt the coolness around her ankles.

“See? Not so bad,” he said, guiding her deeper. “Just stay close to me. I’ve got you.”

As they ventured further into the stream, he took her through the basics, showing her how to float and kick her legs. Linda’s laughter mingled with the sounds of the water, her nervousness slowly giving way to delight.

“Okay, okay! I think I’m getting the hang of this!” she exclaimed, her confidence growing with every splash.

Calvin felt a rush of joy watching her. In that moment, beneath the scorching sun, the burdens of the journey and his concerns seemed to lift, if only for a while.

As they splashed around in the cool water, Linda’s laughter rang out, a joyful sound that momentarily chased away the heat and hardship surrounding them. Calvin was teaching her how to move in the water when suddenly she lost her balance.

“Whoa!” she yelped, her foot slipping on a slick stone beneath the surface. Time seemed to slow as she began to tilt backward, her eyes widening in surprise.

Before he even had a chance to think, Calvin lunged forward, his arms reaching out instinctively. He caught her around the waist just in time, pulling her back against him. The moment was electric; he could feel the warmth of her skin beneath the heavy fabric of her travel dress, and his heart skipped a beat.

“Got you!” he exclaimed, trying to keep his voice light despite the intensity of the moment.

Linda’s breath caught, and for a heartbeat, they were suspended in that close proximity, the world around them fading away. Her cheeks flushed even deeper as she steadied herself against him, their bodies nearly pressed together in the cool water.

She stiffened, and Calvin reluctantly released her from his hold. “Thank you,” she breathed, her voice barely above a whisper, eyes wide with both surprise and some hidden emotion—one that made Calvin’s pulse quicken.

He felt bereft with her no longer in his arms. She had felt right there, as if she had been made to be in his arms. It was something he had only ever thought of with Charlotte. Now, thinking the same of Linda when they were so different felt so… confusing.

“Just doing my part,” he replied, forcing a casual tone despite the rush of warmth spreading through him. “But maybe we should stick to the shallows for now, huh?” He gently guided her back to more stable ground, but he couldn’t shake the feeling of her against him, the way her laughter had mingled with the water in that timeless instant.

Once they reached the shallow end and solid footing, she laughed nervously, brushing her wet hair back from her face. “I thought I was a goner for a second there!”

Calvin chuckled, trying to shake off the lingering intensity. “Not on my watch. I’ll always have your back, you know?”

Linda smiled, her eyes full of gratitude and something unfathomable. She wouldn’t meet his gaze, though. “I appreciate that. I really do.”

As they stood there, water swirling around their feet, the moment felt charged, filled with unspoken possibilities. Calvin tried to hold her gaze for a moment, but she would not meet his. He sensed they were both caught in something special—something that went beyond the friendship they had had over the years.

Calvin could sense the shift in the air between them, a delicate balance of closeness and hesitation. Linda’s smile lingered for a moment, but then her expression turned even more awkward as if she was suddenly aware of the implications of their proximity.

“I—I just remembered something I need to do!” she stammered, her voice quick and slightly panicked. “I should… I should check on the supplies.”

Before Calvin could respond, she turned and waded quickly out of the water, her movements a flurry of urgency. He watched as she moved away, the connection they’d just shared slipping through his fingers like water.

Once she was on the bank, Linda paused, looking back at him for a fleeting moment before hurriedly gathering her shawl and turning away. The sudden distance felt heavy, leaving Calvin standing alone in the cool stream, the laughter and warmth evaporating into the oppressive heat of the day.

He sighed, feeling the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air. Part of him wanted to chase after her, to bridge the gap that had just opened, but he didn’t want to push her. Perhaps she wasn’t ready to face whatever was developing between them, and he wasn’t sure what it was either. They were on different paths in their lives.

With a resigned nod to himself, Calvin turned back to the water, splashing it lightly as he tried to shake off the confusion swirling in his mind. The fleeting connection had been electric, but it also felt fragile, like a delicate thread that could snap under too much weight.

He continued to wade deeper into the stream, letting the coolness wash over him as he tried to clear his thoughts. The sound of the water babbling around him provided a momentary distraction, but in the back of his mind, he couldn’t shake the feeling that things had changed, even if Linda wasn’t ready to acknowledge it.

As he looked toward the bank, he saw her in the distance as she walked away, her shoulders slightly hunched. Calvin realized he, too, needed to think through this new development. Was he ready to face changes in their relationship?

Chapter 10

While her swim had been refreshing, the heat hadn’t let up, and didn’t seem to have any intention of doing so. Linda could feel its oppressive weight bearing down on the camp. To make matters worse, people were getting sick. It started with a few coughs and fevers, but soon, more and more fell ill. Those who were still healthy gathered together in a small, worried group, the air thick with tension.

The children had all been affected, and their misery was harder to bear. Thankfully, both she and Calvin were as yet unaffected. As well as Mary Anna, Joshua, Sarah, the young mother, Daisy, the reverend, and Elijah.

“I think it’s the water,” Elijah spoke up. “The recent rain may have brought something from upstream.”

Linda looked at him, her face etched with concern. “What can we do about it?”

Elijah rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “We need to find a different source of water, at least until we know it’s safe. Boiling it might help, but we need to be careful.”

The group nodded in agreement, their expressions grim. The heat and sickness were a deadly combination, and they knew they had to act quickly to prevent it from spreading further. Feverish people needed to drink water, but if it was contaminated, what would become of them all?

Linda glanced around at the worried faces of her fellow travelers. Were they having the same worries? They all seemed capable, sure of themselves. Would that not mean the others would come up with a sure way to help those sick?

The camp was eerily quiet, save for the occasional cough or moan from those suffering in their makeshift tents. They had formed a small circle around the banked fire. Linda shivered, the oppressive heat clashing with the chill of her worries., the deaths that would result if the fevers were not checked.

Mary Anna, a determined look on her face, spoke first. “I’m going to find some herbs I know that can help. We need something to bring down the fever. The tea could make a difference.”

Linda straightened. “I’ll go with you, Mary Anna.” she volunteered.

However, before she could take a step, Calvin’s brows furrowed, and he interjected, “No, absolutely not. It’s too dangerous for you to be wandering out there. We don’t know what you might run into.”

Linda glared back at him, and when she answered him, her voice rang out. “But I can’t just sit here while everyone suffers! I want to be useful.” Linda’s eyes flashed with defiance. “I’m not a child, Calvin.”

Calvin’s expression hardened. “It’s not about being a child, Linda. It’s about safety. There’s no telling what you might encounter out there.”

Mary Anna looked between them, as if she sensed the tension but was unsure how to intervene.

Linda took a step closer to Calvin, her voice rising. “I can’t just sit around doing nothing while others are suffering,” she said again. “I need to do something to help. Besides, I’ll be with Mary Anna. We’ll watch out for each other.”

Calvin shook his head, his jaw set. “I don’t care. It’s still too dangerous. If anything happened to you out there, I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself.”

Linda’s frustration boiled over. “You can’t keep me under lock and key, Calvin. I need to be able to make my own choices. Stop treating me like I’m incompetent.”

Calvin’s eyes blazed with anger before he visibly called himself. “I’m trying to protect you, Linda. Why can’t you see that?” he asked in a much gentler tone.

“Because your protection feels like a prison!” she told him, doing her best not to belittle what he was trying to do. “I don’t need you to shield me from everything. I need you to trust that I can handle myself.” As much as she appreciated him, she needed to grow, to learn as she knew she would be a woman on her own going forward.

He took a deep breath, his hands clenched at his sides. “This plain is unpredictable. There could be wild animals, unlike anything we have ever seen. Anything that can survive in this wasteland will be a cunning predator and know how to hide. It’s reckless!” he replied, frustration lacing his words.

Mary Anna crossed her arms, a frown wavering her resolve slightly but not breaking it. “We can’t just wait to see if they will get better. If we don’t try, more people will suffer. I know these plains better than anyone else here.”

Calvin shook his head vehemently. “It’s not about knowing the plains; it’s about knowing her limits. We need to think logically, not just with our hearts.”

Linda stepped forward, her voice steady despite the tremor in her hands. “What’s the point of staying alive, of being human, if we can’t help each other? If I’m going to be stuck here, I want to feel like I’ve done something.”

The tension crackled between them, the campfire flickering with uncertainty. Mary Anna looked back and forth between them. “Calvin, I understand your concern, but we have to take risks. Sometimes, that’s how we survive.”

Calvin’s jaw tightened, a deep breath escaping him. “Why are you even arguing with me? This does not concern you. Stay out of it.”

Linda was taken aback as she had never seen Calvin be so rude. He had his moments of being impossibly stubborn and moody, but he had never been disrespectful to anyone.

He turned back to Linda, his eyes determined and adamant, and continued. “Risks get people killed. You don’t know what’s out there, what could happen. I can’t let you go.” the finality of his tone grated on her.

Who did he think he was?

“Then what do you suggest?” Mary Anna challenged, her voice firm and uncaring of Calvin’s dismissive rudeness. “We wait for someone to die while we sit idly by? That’s not a choice I can make.”

Linda squared her shoulders, her voice firm. She didn’t give him the chance to answer that question. “I’m going with Mary Anna,” she stated. “And you’re not my husband, Calvin. You don’t get to dictate what I do.”

Calvin’s eyes flashed with anger, but before he could respond, Mary Anna stepped between them, her stance resolute. “Calvin, I understand your concern, but Linda has every right to make her own decisions. If she wants to come with me, she should.”

The tension between them was palpable, each of them standing their ground. Calvin opened his mouth to argue, but Mary Anna’s determined gaze silenced him. “Linda, if you’re sure, let’s go,” Mary Anna said, her voice calm but firm.

Linda gave Calvin one last look, his displeasure evident in the set of his jaw and the fire in his eyes. “I’ll be fine,” she said quietly, more to herself than to him.

Without another word, she turned and followed Mary Anna, leaving Calvin standing there, his hands clenched at his sides. As they walked away, Linda felt a mix of relief and determination. This was her journey; she had known it would be challenging, but she was ready to face it head-on, with or without Calvin’s approval.

The plain seemed empty as she followed after Mary Anna. Linda had thought she and Calvin hadreached a new understanding but he still saw her as incompetent. Somehow, his low opinion caused an ache within her that dulled everything around her.

She wished she could be like Mary Anna and not be bothered. The other woman’s confidence was admirable. She walked with her back straight, her shoulders at ease as her eyes scanned the ground they walked on. Linda followed her gaze, trying to see what the experienced woman was seeing.

It all looked the same, the ground cracking despite the heavy rain that had fallen just days ago. Hardy grasses, herbs, and weeds peaked past some of those cracks, and Linda noticed those were the ones Mary Anna was studying.

As she picked at one of the herbs, Mary Anna glanced at Linda, curiosity evident in her eyes. “So, what is the situation between you and Calvin?” she asked gently.

Linda sighed, glancing down at her hands. “It’s complicated,” she confessed. “He and my late husband were good friends. When I decided to move to Oregon, he insisted on coming with me to protect me. But one moment, he’s aloof and distant, and the next, he’s hovering over me like a guardian. I can’t seem to figure him out. And I didn’t want him along to begin with.”

Mary Anna nodded thoughtfully. “Sounds like a lot to handle. But you know, if you want, I can teach you some ways to be more self-sufficient. Including how to shoot, if you’re interested.”

A trill of fear rushed down her spine and swirled in her stomach, yet Linda’s eyes lit up with excitement. “I would love that,” she said eagerly. “I want to be able to take care of myself, and I know Calvin won’t approve, but I need to do this.”

Mary Anna smiled, sensing Linda’s determination. “Alright then, let’s start with the basics. We’ll make sure you’re at least prepared for anything that comes your way.”

As they continued gathering the needed herbs, Mary Anna began teaching Linda about the different plants, their uses, and how to find them. She also promised to start her shooting lessons and how to use a bow as soon as they had time, and Linda couldn’t help but feel a growing sense of empowerment. She was ready to take control of her own destiny, to finally be able to do something competently.

They returned to camp, their arms full of the herbs they had collected. Linda was rather proud of their accomplishment. As they approached, she noticed a small group gathered near one of the wagons. They were mostly women, with wagon master’s wife Daisy leading whatever discussion they were having. Their faces were lined with worry as they occassionaly glanced at the people lying under the cool shade.

She heard a child crying and recognized Sarah’s voice as she tried to soothe the child. Her eyes scanned under the tree and saw her wringing a cloth to place on her son’s brow.

“Tommy must be sick,” Mary Anna whispered, her face creased with concern.

Linda hurried over, her heart sinking at the sight of Sarah’s son, Tommy, looking pale and feverish. Josh was kneeling beside Sarah, offering comfort and words of reassurance. Sarah seemed grateful but also a little uncomfortable with his close presence.

“How is he?” Linda asked, kneeling down beside them.

Sarah looked up, her eyes filled with worry. “He’s burning up, Linda. I don’t know what to do.”

“We’ve brought some herbs,” Linda said, glancing at Mary Anna. “We can make some tea that might help.”

Mary Anna nodded, already beginning to sort through the herbs they had gathered. “I’ll brew the tea. It should help reduce the fever.”

Linda took Sarah’s hand, squeezing it reassuringly. “We’ll do everything we can to help Tommy.”

Josh looked at Linda, a grateful expression on his face. “Thank you, Linda. Sarah needs all the support she can get right now.”

Linda nodded, her conviction that she could help strengthening. As Mary Anna prepared the tea, Linda stayed by Sarah’s side, offering comfort and helping to cool Tommy’s fevered brow. For the first time since Frank had passed, Linda felt as if she wasn’t an incompetent who couldn’t do anything. She was finding out what it meant to be self-sufficient, and she was proud of herself.

A chance sighting of Calvin helping with the sick though brought turbulence to her emotions. Why did his opinion matter so much to her? Why couldn’t she seem to ignore him and go about her journey as she wanted to? Her eyes sought him out often, her mind took note of all the accidental brushes of his fingers against her as they rode the wagon. She was even taking note of his few smiles.

Why did he suddenly have such an impact on her when he never had before?