Chapter 9

Shortly after sunup, Neelie pulled the wooden paddle spatula from the worktable and returned to the cooking fire between the wagons. The air smelled of coffee and griddle cakes. Ever since Mr. Isaiah, one of the trail hands, sounded the horn, the camp had buzzed with activity. Davonna was dressed and out of the wagon. So were the children. Blair set out tin cups for coffee for the adults and tea for the children, while Lyall went off with Ian to fetch the oxen. The other three had completed their respective chores and seemed bent on grating on one another’s nerves. An activity she and Caleb had delighted in as children. As far as she was concerned, things were going better than expected.

Neelie couldn’t say she’d adjusted to sleeping atop a trunk in a covered wagon, but in just five days, she felt pretty good about the adjustment she’d made to cooking for a big family and helping set up camp with wagons, oxen, and travel furniture. That didn’t mean she wasn’t overdue for some peace and quiet. Thankfully, Saturdays meant they’d settle into a spot early and camp for two nights. Tomorrow she’d see about using one of Ian’s horses for a Sunday ride.

“Give it to me!” She’d heard eagles with a quieter screech than Duff’s.

Neelie spun around in time to see Angus getting away with Duff’s rope. She squared her shoulders. “Angus Kamden, stop where you are.”

He did. Just as Davonna rose from her stool, apparently unaware of the commotion surrounding her. Angus froze in place, not one foot away from her. She jerked and tripped over the stool, tumbling with it to the ground.

“Mither!” Ian dropped the leads on the oxen near the yoke and dashed toward his mother.

Neelie let the spatula fall to the ground. “Is she all right?”

Ian glanced over his shoulder. “How could you let this happen?”

Neelie went to Davonna, muttering under her breath. “Let this happen?”

“Rhoda never would’ve allowed all that horseplay at the camp.”

Neelie’s shoulders tensed. “She isn’t here.”

Ian clamped his jaw shut, his right eyelid twitching.

Davonna groaned. “Just listen to you two.” She rolled off the legs of the stool. “Son, you don’t know what Rhoda allowed and didn’t allow. You were always off tending the animals or working on somebody’s wheels.”

Neelie struggled to rein in her myriad emotions. Not only did Davonna have spunk, the woman had come to her defense.

“I’m sorry, Nana,” Angus said, his face stricken. “I—”

Davonna waved her hand. “I’m fine, Angus Boy. I lost my balance, that’s all.”

“I think we should have the doctor look at you,” Ian said. “Make sure nothing broke.”

“If I’d broken something, you’d know it.”

When Davonna reached for Neelie’s hand, Neelie carefully helped her up. “Are you sure, Mrs. Kamden?”

“That’s you, dear.” A quiver layered the old woman’s voice.

Neelie sighed and made the mistake of looking at Ian. Judging by the set of his jaw and the frustration clouding his eyes, she wouldn’t be Mrs. Kamden for long.

She wasn’t Rhoda. Never would be.

That evening, Neelie sat on the board floor of the wagon with Anna’s writing desk on her lap. Candlelight cast a shadowy glow on the paper beneath her hand.

The Kamden’s camp was quiet, free of horseplay, accusations, and awkward glances. Ian had taken Davonna and all five children to the central campfire. Neelie had declined Maisie’s invitation to join them. As unsettling emotions hammered her, she could only shake her head. Neither she nor Ian knew what to say to each other. How to act around the other.

Neelie pulled the quill and ink from the box. Ever since she’d reunited with Caleb and begun traveling with the caravan, she’d been wondering what to tell Buckskin Joe at the Wild West Show. According to his reply to her telegram, he was expecting her to arrive in San Francisco the first of July.

Today, she had no doubts about her answer. She couldn’t let the children or Davonna become any more attached to her than they had. Not when Ian would clearly never accept her.

She dipped the quill into the ink, tapped it on the rim, and began writing.