Chapter Ten

A slate sky framed the early morning after the hail and rain. By the time Reba, Ginny and Johnny Poe reached Main Street, the skies cleared and poured gold sprays over their heads, the basalt ground already dry in places. A rare view of swans and a squadron of Canada geese flew in a tight formation fly-by across the crimson and gold sunrise.

They parked behind Seth and eased out of the packed pickup. Reba wore her favorite tan cowgirl hat and comfiest brown leather boots, a tan button shirt, and her favorite brown Wrangler’s.

Ginny donned purple Paloma walking shoes with rhinestone button on the straps, lavender Capri tights and matching spaghetti strap over-blouse. “In honor of Maidie,” she explained about her color choice.

Reba perused Seth’s well-equipped purple Model T, which rivaled Whitlow’s country store. Tongs, portable grill, coffee pot, cast iron skillet and pot, assorted dishes. Flour and crackers, corn meal and rice, beans and jerky, salt and sugar, coffee and tea, vinegar and pickles, smoked meat and lots of dried fruit, as well as canned sardines, tuna, fruits and vegetables. He even had an ample supply of Pearl’s granola trail mix, covered and tied down.

“Are you going to be our chuck wagon cook?” Reba asked.

“Not me. I bring the grub and start the fire. You and Ginny can do the cooking.”

“Aha, now you tell us.” She handed him one of the walkie-talkies.

“What is this?”

“So we can communicate on the road. Here. Punch this button and start talking.”

He turned it all around. “I need to keep my hands on the wheel. The play in the steering requires both hands. I can’t use this.”

Tucker showed up with his guitar, a shotgun, and gold panning equipment, like an adventurer on a treasure hunt. His mustache looked like it had been bleached. “I’m Seth’s personal bodyguard.” He touched the mustache. “Incognito.”

Seth handed him the walkie-talkie. “You’re also in charge of this.”

Tucker poked around and started a dialogue. “I’m just the guy. I hitchhiked one time with a trucker who had a CB. We need handles.”

“That’s easy. I’ll call you Tucker. You call me Reba.”

“Oh no, that won’t do. Finding a handle is required and it’s a science. A name you can remember. A reflection of your true identity. An extension of your inner soul.”

Oh, brother. “Tucker, this is for emergencies only, when we need to make contact. You can call me...Reba Mae.”

“Nope. Mine is Off The Sauce. You want Carrot Top or Ranch Boss?”

Ginny grabbed the other walkie-talkie from Reba. “You’re the driver. I’ll be the radio contact from the pickup.” She turned it on. “Off The Sauce, Greek Girl here. Any messages for Carrot Top?”

I have created a monster. “I am definitely not Carrot Top.”

“Ranch Boss just tuned in,” Tucker blasted out. “Off The Sauce and T-Rod over and out. 10-4.”

“Who is T-Rod?” Ginny asked.

“Seth, of course.”

A shiny silver Volvo pulled in behind the pickup and trailer. Abel bounced on the front leather seat. Jace rambled over to them. “This the pack train to the desert?”

“Are you coming too?” Ginny asked.

He nodded. “If there are no objections.” He peered at Reba.

Figures. It’s a joy ride to him. His whole life’s a playground. “Check with T-Rod.” She pointed at Seth and tried to shove aside the bit of inner buzz his joining them generated.

Ginny walked over to talk to Abel and Jace ran over to Seth.

“I thought little brother would like an adventure,” Jace explained when he returned. “We’ll follow a day or two at least. I’m having a hard time keeping him entertained.”

“I see you brought a First Aid kit,” Ginny called out.

“Oh, yeah.” He walked to the Volvo and held up another white box. “A Body Fluid Clean Up kit too.”

Reba almost gagged. “Gross. Sure hope we don’t need that.”

“That makes a midwife cowgirl like you flinch? I’m shocked. I had one on the shelf at the store. Might come in handy.”

“I’m used to cows, not humans.”

When a crowd began to form, Tucker traipsed toward the town center.

“What are you doing?” Reba asked.

“Going to make a speech. This is a historic occasion. I’m ready to tell all I know about Seth Stroud.”

“Please don’t do it through the walkie-talkie.”

Jace touched Ginny’s. “Great idea. I’ve got my cellular phone, but it won’t do much good in the car pool, since none of you have one.”

“I’ve been thinking about it,” Ginny said. “Several cousins who work in our business have been pushing it.”

Reba snorted. “Not me. The only electronics I want is my calculator and electric pencil sharpener.”

A horn blew as Tucker began his speech. Everyone turned as a horse and rider rode down the street. Champ appeared with U.S. flag and red, white, and blue helium balloons flying.

“Is he going to give Seth the keys of the city?” Ginny said.

“Surely not,” Reba replied. “He’s on his way out of town.”

“I think Elliot Laws is too. Look.”

A crew cab dually pickup pulled in behind Jace’s Volvo. Thomas Hawk and Elliot rode in the front seat with Reine Laws as driver. Two appaloosas peered out from a back trailer.

Champ presented Seth the balloons and a huge gift basket of smoked salmon and cheese, caviar, canned nuts, large candy bars, dried fruit, summer sausage, hot habanero salsa, and a bottle of red wine. He handed him an extra-large bright yellow t-shirt with permanent ink signatures from a multitude of Road’s End citizens and a “To Nevada Or Bust” insignia in front. Seth pulled it over the shirt he wore amid cheers.

“He’s only going to be gone a few weeks,” Reba stated.

Champ glared at her and intoned to Seth, “May the Lord watch between you and us while we’re absent from one another.”

“That sounds very spiritual,” Ginny remarked.

“It was the Mizpah between Jacob and Laban, who didn’t trust each other,” Reba explained. “Not sure Champ realizes that, but it fits.” She strolled over to Seth who battled the balloons. “Let’s tamp these down short and tight in the back. Less hazards that way.”

His eyes glazed, Seth gladly handed them to her.

Reba walked back to the pickup Reine Laws drove. “Where are you guys headed? Are you coming with us?”

“Seth inspired us. We’re on a long overdue pilgrimage,” Thomas told her, “Elliot and I are headed to the Nez Perce battleground site near White Bird. We aim to ride horseback on the route of Chief Joseph up near the Canadian border.”

“Wow. That’s incredible.” Reba turned to hurry back to her rig and almost charged into to Pearl. “I had to say goodbye,” she said.

Of course she did, but a tight uneasiness gripped Reba’s mid-section. A spurt of love-distrust anchored her response. They exchanged a fleeting hug. Reba’s emotions tumbled into chaos again. Her mouth wouldn’t work. But before she could manage any words of response, Pearl ambled over to Seth. “Give Hester my love.”

Ginny and Reba looked at each other. “Who is Hester?” Ginny asked.

Reba shrugged. “Don’t ask me. I know nothing about anything.”

Pearl stepped back to them and answered their question. “Hester Owens, Zeke Owen’s sister. Maidie’s fiancé way back when.”

Ah, so maybe my great aunt? “I presume Zeke was the father...and my grandfather.”

Pearl lowered her voice. “Seth assumed that too. He’s the one who brought the baby girl to me and Cole. He asked me to find a family for her. Maidie was in hysterics after the birth and not taking care of the baby. He worried for the infant’s safety. As you know now, we kept her ourselves.”

“So, didn’t others in Road’s End know? That Hanna Jo was adopted and Maidie’s child?” Ginny asked.

Pearl sent Reba an offertory smile as though an attempt to do penance. “Truly, no one at the time questioned us about it. The way it happened, with us out in the country and little contact with folks. We introduced Hanna Jo as our baby and everyone accepted that. And with Zeke dying so tragic in a fall off a roof before he and Maidie could be married, in those days a shame for Maidie. I don’t think anyone knew about the baby until she was born. Not even Seth.”

What a load to carry. No wonder Maidie went bonkers.

Pearl continued. “A man wouldn’t pay much attention to signs of pregnancy, especially an uncle. But most any woman would.”

Maidie must have started her recluse ways back then.

Ginny frowned at Reba and smiled at Pearl. “I think what you and Mr. Cahill did was pretty noble.”

Pearl teared up and mouthed a thank you. She held out her arms for another hug and Reba complied, her heart heavy. She felt cold against her, a strange kind of reversal for a woman she’d loved most of her life. I wonder if she senses it?

Pearl weaved back to the sidewalk and when they returned to the pickup, Reba burst out, “But why hide it from me?”

“Maybe she said nothing about it to protect Maidie. Did you think of that?” Ginny buckled her seatbelt and motioned for Reba to do the same.

“No, I guess not. I sense I really need this trip with Seth.” Revelations? Or further unraveling? “I’ve got a lot to sort out.”

“Hey, so do I.”

A hawk circled above them, higher and higher.

Seth stacked the gift basket on top his goods and lifted out green tinted goggles. He handed a set to Tucker and pulled his on.

“I have got to get a picture of that.” Ginny snapped some shots as Seth cranked the Model T and moseyed into the seat. The antique car nudged forward down Main Street. Those in the car pool behind him followed. They all waved to a crowd of yells and whistles like in a parade.

Lisl saluted from the front of the post office, flag flying high.

Tim and his family viewed them at the apartments. Kaitlyn rushed over with another drawing. A redhead riding Johnny Poe who rose on hind legs.

Buckhead and Venita Whitlow at the grocery store.

Norden on the sidewalk with his Harley looking like he wanted to join them. He spun a few wheelies and trailed behind them a few blocks.

No one hurrahed in front of the saloons. Perhaps home sleeping it off.

Beatrice and Charlotta wore bathrobes and fuzzy slippers. Adrienne ran in place wearing workout clothes and tennies.

As they approached the Paddy Trailer Park, a 1975 orange Toyota wagon waited there with Ida, Amos, and Pico. “Stay home, Tucker,” Ida yelled. “Or I and the boys are coming with you.”

The Model T stopped. “Who will take care of the trailer park?” Tucker yelled back.

“Polly and Kam Eng said they’d look after it and we’re all packed.”

“Then, come on. But you’ll have to go to the back of the line.” The boys cheered and they all piled into the orange wagon.

The Model T turned left on Water Wagon Road along Road’s End Lake shore. Fishermen lined the banks and gave them cursory looks. They tunneled under the overhead footbridge stretched from the lake to the edge of town and passed remnants of a sawmill and logging camp.

Reba edged her pickup to the far side of the road as a wide load farm implement approached. Going thirty mph, they cruised by the old original logging mill, cleared what remained of the pine forest, and neared Highway 95. Seth waited for clearer traffic before engaging the highway full bore to the open high prairie. Variegated patches of wheat fields rippled over green rolling hills, intermixed with goldenrod plots of canola. Two windmills spun, one on each side of an old house, a former one-room school.

Ginny peered in the rearview mirror. “Look at all those people following us.”

“They’re probably going to trail along for part of the jaunt today.”

“Or tag along for the whole journey. What have we gotten ourselves into?”

“Did you notice that woman in the pickup and tent trailer at the back of the line?” Ginny asked.

“Yes, ever since Road’s End, but she doesn’t look familiar. Perhaps a tourist? Or a camper from the Road’s End Lake State Park.”

~~~~

Neoma Hocking started the van and looked behind at her two grandkids and the tent trailer. She waved at Cicely in red blouse and tights and Franklin in dusty gray coveralls. Our farewell party. Her gaze lingered on Franklin. Something about him attracted her.

She drove out the way they and the broken axle pickup had been hauled in by the logging truck two days before. She recalled the woodsman with hardhat and snoose tobacco can mark in his back pocket who found them five miles out of town, stuck on the side of the road. He had cheerily introduced himself.

“I’m Franklin Fraley.” He pointed to the Fraley Logging Company sign on the truck. “I can haul you to the nearest garage in Road’s End, if you don’t mind sitting in my dirty cab.”

He looked so much like Hank she kept blinking her eyes. But his voice was lower, deeper. He also appeared younger. Maybe because he was healthier than when she last saw Hank on his final sick bed.

“You must be Cicely’s niece from Missouri. She thought you might be coming by.”

That surprised Neoma. “I wasn’t sure myself if I’d actually come this way. We’re on our way to the California coast.”

“Uh huh. Looks like it’s gonna rain. In fact, it might snow. Won’t be the first time here in the middle of May.”

“I only meant to stop an hour or two. But it’s been such a long drive and my eyes shut a bit. I’m afraid I plowed off the road. Stupid thing to do, especially with the children.” Why did she turn right at Winnemucca? Lord, if you’ll help me out of this, I’ll never do such a foolish thing again.

By the time they reached the Road’s End turnoff, the sky overcast the landscape in shades of gray. A gas station’s Open sign flashed on and off. They wound about a mile down a country road with fields on each side, a forest of pines and slate lake water ripples appeared in the distance.

“Many folks consider Road’s End a restful stop on the way to somewhere else,” Franklin chatted as they entered town.

Now the Road’s End Hotel and the Pick Me Up Saloon came in view on Main Street as Neoma prepared to cross Main Street and head out of town. What was that ahead? An antique car leads some kind of parade. Why were all those people crowded around? Neoma recalled Cicely and Franklin talking about some old man on a trip to the desert with rumors he was going after gold buried by his family years ago.

Why didn’t I leave earlier? She knew the answer. As usual, the kids dragged their feet.

Twelve-year-old granddaughter Becky met Neoma’s gaze with her habitual glum look. She crossed her eyes in that way of hers that said, “Don’t you dare ask what I’m thinking.”

Her five-year-old brother Ned strained to see like a caged puppy against the seatbelt. He pulled out the wooden whistle Franklin gave him and blew it. Twice.

“Make him stop,” Becky complained.

“Ned, give it to me.” She reached back her hand. Should she veer north on Main Street and the east route to the Highway? But she’d have to pass them sooner or later. Might as well straggle in line now and watch for an opening.

Neoma knew Aunt Cicely was right. She should drive straight to Reno to make contact with her estranged daughter, Trish, head to the Pacific Ocean to spread her husband’s ashes, and on to Disneyland, her concession to the kids.

The longer she sat there, waiting for the end of the procession, the more she considered the symbolism of the old man’s pursuit and how in some ways it mirrored her husband’s story.

The Hocking family’s migration west ended abruptly, far short of the goal. Two thousand miles of prairie, mountain, and desert to cross. Gold seekers did it. So did droves of cattle and wagon trains loaded with pioneer families and dreams. But the Hocking ancestors hunkered down instead at St. Joseph, Missouri to run a boarding house.

“I’m headed west,” her husband Hank told her two months before he retired from his engineering firm. “I’m going to be the first direct descendent of Theodore Hocking to stick my bare feet in the Pacific.”

Hank packed Theodore’s gold panning supplies in the tent trailer while Neoma imagined long visits with her college chum in Utah, a side trip to Aunt Cee’s in Idaho, long novels to read, and lazy evenings of pulling out new sable brushes and an old easel on a California beach. Her husband’s weak heart dictated otherwise.

Her vision cleared from the past to the present one in the mirror where she stared. No sable brushes for her. No easel on a beach. She admired again the hat Cicely gave her, with a satin floral jacquard brim and sisal crown. She could almost smell the fragrance of the gardenia blossom trim. The grosgrain band felt soft and firm against her head.

It would do for a stylish model in a Renoir painting. Instead it adorned a grungy grandma with large Band-Aid on her forehead. She peeked in the mirror. She wondered what difference hair highlights and a bit of makeup would make. But what for? No one left in her life to impress.

She peered at the grandkids, Becky in the front seat, Ned in the back. Becky wore a perky panama with chinstrap. Ned had a cotton-ducking cap with coffee-colored long bill. Gifts from Cicely. Ned pranced around like a cocky young Hemingway in his.

She noticed a break and eased onto Main Street, turning right to follow the caravan that kept to the pace of the Model T. Five miles later, she spied a stretch of road to zoom free of the slow moving line of traffic. Perhaps it was a reluctance to get to Reno too soon. To put off facing Trish. Or the certainty Hank would have participated in this trek, if he had been here. A token of doing an Old West pioneer adventure. Neoma crept in line, though she didn’t know a soul on this peculiar tour.

~~~~

A small yellow bi-plane crop duster buzzed overhead. Bicyclers with helmets and packs sprawled along the highway. Undulating hills and rocky cliffs plastered with vetch and lupine purple wildflowers. Reba drank it all in.

“Pass them,” Ginny urged. “Quick. There’s no oncoming traffic. I need some road pictures of Seth.”

Reba shot around Seth then pulled in front as Ginny snapped shots. She veered to the right side and pulled back in line when the caravan passed. She gunned another pass as Ginny waved to everyone and squeezed back in their slot in-between the Model T and Volvo.

Jace blared his horn and waved his fist.

“Oh my, road rage,” Ginny opined. “Even in peaceful Idaho.”

“Well, let’s don’t try that trick again. Go for safe and sane picture taking from now on.” Soon, oncoming cars and trucks splattered tiny rocks and splashes on Reba’s pickup. “It’s a good thing Seth and Tucker have those bug-eye goggles. Their windshield won’t help that much.”

“And Tucker insists on a helmet.”

The Model T rumbled slow but steady through the road lined with a mix of pines, cedars, firs and spruce. Seth tried to stay at the edge of the pavement for easier passing and aimed for frontage and gravel side roads when possible.

“He might as well stay on the highway,” Ginny said. “As long as he’s visible, drivers will steer clear of him. And we’re a brigade of protection behind him. Besides, we’ll never get out of the state at this rate.”

“I am so used to speeding through here. It’s nice to ease the pace, to see patches and designs of nature. To pay closer attention to the hard-working farmers and study their crops. Try to guess what they are.” Life in slower motion.

“Yeah, stare each bug in the eye before it splats against the windshield.”

“Oh, Ginny. Where’s your romance?” But Reba couldn’t help but chuckle.

Ginny pointed at old barns dotted across the wheat and gold-yellow canola fields. “Those don’t look in use. In fact, they’re ready to tumble.”

“Nobody tears down barns around here. Farm machines work around them.”

“Laziness? Or sentimental?”

“Yep, and stubbornness. Or they want barn mulch.”

“The extra slow way. Just like Seth and this trip.”

A grove of cottonwoods edged a creek bank. Random clumps of pines made pockets of forests here and there in the wheat fields. Billows of pillow-shaped cumulus clouds piled high above dark green prairie grass.

“Ginny, look quick. There’s our one view of the Seven Devils Mountains in the distance. The rugged ones with snow on top. You can count them. At sixty-five mph, they quickly disappear. Most people miss them. Today we’ve got a clear day and full shot.”

“Speaking of which...” Ginny rolled down her window and stuck the camera out. She kept the window down a few inches until she held her nose. “What’s that awful odor? Smells like cat pee.”

“It’s those bushes with the yellow tips.”

Ginny closed her window. “Special. Getting a bit too close to nature.”

They tried to take in the sights. A helicopter with red lights flashing whirled above a small horse pen, broken, bent, and untended. Three vapor trails from jets crossed each other in the sky between a large splat of clouds spread in wisps and swirls. Dark soil ground had been plowed under, left fallow.

Seth made a hand signal to turn right off the highway and onto the Cutoff Road to bypass Elkville.

As they followed, Ginny asked, “By the way, where’s the nearest latté?”

“Maybe Reno?”

Ginny groaned. “I’m in full cold turkey remission.”

An hour later, Reba gazed at the winding Noxell Ranch driveway, close to the head of White Bird Grade. Mixed breeds and colors of cattle lounged in the pastures. Mule deer with large ears and black-tipped tails hopped away to a pine forest.

“Why is Seth turning in here already? We’ve only been on the road an hour.”

“Potty stop? Looks like they have a portable outhouse.”

The Model T halted in front of a barbecue pit and some picnic tables. Reba parked alongside and got out to release Johnny Poe from the trailer. Thomas Hawk and Elliot rode their appaloosas with dark spots over white hindquarters around the grounds.

Seth announced to everyone he was hungry. “I’ve been up a long time already. And no one lives in the house anymore. I know the caretaker/ranch hand. Make yourself at home.”

Jace and Abel joined Reba and Ginny with a woman in her fifties with two children. “This is Neoma Hocking and her grandkids, Becky and Ned. She’s on her way to Reno, got stuck in our caravan, and wants to get acquainted.”

“I’ve been following you since Road’s End,” Neoma said.

“Do you happen to be Cicely Bower’s niece?” Reba asked.

“I am. She told me about the elderly man’s trek. I found it fascinating. I’m on a similar one of my own. Mind if I join you a while?”

“Of course not. We’re headed to New Meadows this evening.”

Becky stared at Ginny and reached out to touch her silver Omega watch.

“She’s been wanting a watch of her own,” Neoma explained. “I’m sure that is pretty spendy.”

And she has three more like it. Reba noticed the girl’s young, clear face, just a couple years and a touch of cosmetics shy of pretty.

A gale of wind hit hard. They bundled up, gazed at the countryside prairie and shared provisions for lunch.

“Like a church potluck.” Reba helped spread out red checkered tablecloths covered with elk jerky, fried chicken, corn on the cob, three-bean salad, potato salad, and Pearl’s leftover jalapeno cheddar cheese corn muffins and rhubarb-apple pie. Reine Laws added fry bread and beans.

“Like a royal buffet, without the sushi,” Ginny added. “And high on carbs.”

Becky picked at her meal. She pulled her knees up, clutched them, and hid her face. She perked up at Neoma’s mention of hot fudge sundaes. “Sounds so good. I’ve been hungry for one ever since someone mentioned Dairy Queen.”

“That may be a while, at the rate we’re going.”

“Will make it all the more pleasurable,” Neoma said.

“I want to see Mama,” Becky whined.

Neoma sighed. “Me too, I think.”

“Did you enjoy your stay with Cicely?” Reba asked.

“Yes, we did. Aunt Cee is my father’s youngest sister and prominent guest at all family funerals and weddings. She’s a colorful memory in my otherwise gray world. ‘If Aunt Cicely comes, it’s party time,’ my daughter Trish would say. Aunt Cee lost a daughter to leukemia and widowed three times. I knew she’d understand what I’m going through.”

After they ate, Seth on fiddle and Reba and Tucker on guitar, they sang as many verses as they could recall of folk songs such as “Blowin’ in the Wind.”

The Paddy boys, Neoma Hocking’s grandkids, and Abel and Jace played a game of Hearts. Reba noticed a toy model Navy F-14 beside Abel. A lazy Noxell Ranch dog watched thrown sticks and Frisbees with amusement, but made no move for them.

“Would you believe he was once a vicious brute who annihilated rabbits and chipmunks?” said Yarbo, introduced by Seth as the caretaker.

“What’s his name?” Abel called from the game.

“Compromise,” Yarbo replied. “We call him C.P. for short.”

“Good name.” Jace dropped his cards and wiggled his hands.

“The key to any valuable and lasting relationship.” Ginny held up her book.

“I agree. Listing pros and cons are good for any debate,” Reba concluded.

Jace cocked his head. “Oh? You debate? I thought it was your way or no way.”

Reba stuck her tongue out at Jace. Why did I do that? Stupid.

A six-passenger pickup truck gunned down the driveway. A man in hardhat and Run For The Health Of It t-shirt got out.

“Hey, Franklin, good to see you,” several yelled.

“You missed lunch, but we still have some pie,” Neoma said, a blush in her cheeks.

Franklin dug out two pieces of apple pie from a tin plate. “I wish I was going with you all the way, but somebody has to stay in town. It seemed deserted all of a sudden.”

Ginny wound an emerald scarf around her head and snuggled into her emerald hooded windbreaker.

Reba admired the scarf. “Hey, that’s a good idea. It’s hard to keep a hairdo in this breeze. At least we’re all in the same condition.”

Tucker tugged at his wife and they danced an Irish jig around the unlit campfire ring while Seth fiddled and the others clapped in rhythm.

A gale began again and overhanging branches threatened to rip off. A brief downpour drenched them.

“Are we having fun yet?” Jace yelled.

“Yep. This is livin’,” Seth replied.

When the weather cleared, debate ensued about going down steep White Bird Grade with the Model T.

“I already figured that in,” Seth told them. “I’m going down the Old Grade. You all can take the highway if you like.”

“And the Old Grade goes right by the trail head to the Nez Perce war,” Thomas Hawk commented. The elder man’s weather-lined face and hands added to his bent posture, looking more cowboy than Indian with his dusty jeans, boots and black bandana tied around his neck.

Elliot rolled a cigarette from a plastic bag of tobacco. “Grandpa, you need to get your horse shod.”

“I’ll do it myself. The last time I ran into a smart-mouthed farrier who didn’t like Indians or long hairs. Then when I left him, I’m sure he beat her around the kidneys with a tool. The horse developed a kidney infection.”

Elliot hit his saddle with his fist. The horse shied forward and whinnied. “One thing I liked about the military. Once we headed to the Gulf and faced battle, we had each other’s backs, no matter who we were or where we came from.”

“Maybe if we had a few more wars, we’d be kinder to each other.”

“I can’t believe you said that. War is hell and you know it.”

“Yes, much of our tribe’s sad history happened near here, the great battle at White Bird.”

“What started it?” Jace asked.

“Gold discovered around the reservation. One shot rang out. That’s the short version,” Elliot said.

Thomas sprawled on the wet grass with a blanket. “But the longer version is that the government reduced the promised reservation’s size. The young bucks wished to fight, but Chief Joseph forbade them. Soon altercations gave them more reasons for vengeance. It became impossible to hold them back. So, Chief Joseph led many men, women, and children from the Oregon reservation to supposed freedom. They managed to elude five thousand Army troops as they fled through Idaho.

“There was much confusion, controversy, and quarrels among our tribe members and with the government. Wrong was done on all sides. My family abided by the government’s treaty, such as it was. Yet I believe Chief Joseph and his non-treaty band were disposed to live peaceably, as we all were. We didn’t travel his path, but we have his blood.”

“Often the government offered half-truths,” Thomas continued. “Sometimes humans are unaware of the enormity of their own deceit and the consequences.”

“Yes, a fascinating psychological phenomenon,” Elliot added.

Reba squirmed as this truth hit home. She knew the same thing happened to otherwise good people. Lord, help keep me honest and true. Reba scanned the valley and mountain ridges around them, imagining soldiers and Native Americans lurking there, avenging ancient grudges.

“Elliot and I, we are going to travel in their moccasins, to see what they saw,” Thomas said. “We will start at White Bird Canyon, and finish forty miles short of the Canadian border at the forced surrender near Bear Paw Mountain in Montana.”

Jace walked over to Elliot and shook his hand. “We thank you for your service to our country.”

“Thank you.” Elliot gripped him back with both hands.

“Should have taken out that evil Hussein guy, though,” Tucker said.

“I did everything they told me to do,” Elliot replied. “When you’re in the army, they own you. We were plenty ready to kick butt, but never got the okay.”

“It must be hard to take the uniform of a country’s leaders who didn’t always treat your own people fair and just,” Jace commented.

Reba had been thinking the same thing.

“Perhaps, but there are good and bad people, no matter what race or tribe. There are misfits in every group. It’s important to sort them out. I’ve learned to pow wow with the good ones and deal best you can with the bad.”

As the children played hide-and-seek with playful shrieks, the rest sat silent, each lost in their own thoughts. Reba stole glances at Jace, marveling at her new views of him.

He looked back at her and then asked, “Elliot, who would you peg a hero from this last war?”

“Any one of my buddies, the guys in my troop. They’d die for me and I would for them. Also, Stormin’ Norman Schwarzkopf, a great warrior.”

“Well said.”

Seth got up and walked to his Model T. “I’m headin’ out,” he announced.

Everyone scrambled to prepare to get back on the road.

Reba listened to Seth explain his car to Yarbo. “Gas on right, spark on left, have to crank it...”

Ginny leaned close and whispered to Reba, “I’ve heard rumors Abel is really Jace’s son.”

Reba froze. “Who told you that?”

“It’s been buzzed all around. On this trip. In Road’s End. I’m going to find out one way or another before this trip’s over.”

Reba peered at Jace once more as he packed Abel’s toys in the Volvo. Could it be? It seems I’m surrounded by deceit. Just when she thought she might make peace with this irritating man, her view of him soured again.