Kaki Warner

by Miracle in New Hope

  The voices grew louder. The hand continued to stroke in a soothing rhythm that slowed the frantic beat of her heart and sent the fear back into the shadows. She cracked open and eye, saw daylight, and closed it again. She was lying on her stomach, her face buried in her arms. Her sleeves felt wet. Had she been crying? She wanted to roll over to see who was speaking, but couldn’t make her sluggish muscles obey.

  “What the hell are you doing?” the voice on her right whispered. Tom. She couldn’t see him, but she knew that tone. “And where’s your dog?”

  “Gone,” Daniel Hobart said on her other side.

  “So you took his place?”

  “She was crying in her sleep.”

  “That doesn’t mean you can put your hands on her.”

  Lacy stiffened. That’s Daniel’s hand?

  The stroking paused, then resumed. “You know, Jackson, before I start this thing with your sister, I may have to kill you.” Laughter vibrated in the low voice despite the harsh words.

  What thing?

  “What are you talking about?” Tom demanded.

  “Our courtship.”

  Courtship?

  The hand went away as the big body beside her shifted. Cold air moved along her side where he had been. “Up and at ’em, Jackson. The snow’s stopped, and we’re burning daylight. I’ll get the horses.”

  ***

  It was only five miles farther to the fort, but it took two hours for them to plow through the deep drifts that had piled up in the night. Luckily, it was powdery snow, and although it reached almost to the horses’ bellies, they were able to move through it relatively easily.

  Her brother took the lead again, and with his horse’s legs hidden in the snow, he looked like a top-heavy ship plowing through a sea of white. Daniel Hobart brought up the rear with the packhorse, and for the first time, his hound wisely followed in the horses’ tracks, rather than running ahead to cut his own trail in snow that came to his head.

  Lacy was acutely aware of the man riding behind her. She could almost feel his intense gaze pinned on her back, and twice whipped around hoping to catch him and embarrass him into ceasing his scrutiny. But he simply grinned back, dark brows raised in question, his fine teeth a stark contrast to his cold-reddened cheeks and darkly stubbled jaw.

  She didn’t know whether to be flattered or irritated by his attention. She had just begun to think of him as a friend. And now he wanted to court her?

  She had no interest in being courted. All she cared about was finding out what had happened to Hannah. She could think no further than that.

  But still, it was nice having him near. There was a quiet assurance about Daniel, a steadiness that had been missing from her life for too long. If she allowed it, she could grow to depend on that calm strength too much.

  It was early afternoon when they reached Fort Middleton. It looked a bit forlorn, poking up out of the snow on such a lonely stretch of road, and Lacy wondered how much longer the army would keep it in open.

  It had definitely had its ups and downs. Originally built to hold Middleton Pass during the war with Mexico in 1848, it had been largely abandoned after hostilities ended. Then, with the onset of the Indian wars, it had enjoyed a brief revival until the reservations were established. Now its sole purpose was to keep the pass secure for pilgrims moving west—after the horrific tragedy at Donner Pass over the Sierra Nevada almost twenty-five years ago, the government wanted no more travelers stranded over the winter. But with railroads now able to offer cross-country passage at a fraction of the cost, time, and danger of travel by horse or wagon, fewer pilgrims came this way.

  In fact, Lacy noted only one canvas-covered wagon parked outside the log walls when they rode through the gates. Within the compound, there were even more signs that Fort Middleton was falling into disuse. The blockhouse at the corner of the stockade enclosure was deserted, the parade grounds empty. Of the two residences set aside for married officers, one was boarded up. And although the quartermaster’s stables appeared to still be in use, there were half the number of horses in the paddock than when Lacy and her brothers had come here last year, asking about Hannah.

  It appeared Fort Middleton was in its final decline.

  “Wait here,” Tom said, stopping beside the flagpole outside the post headquarters. “I’ll give our hellos to the man in charge and see if they have any rooms available in the unused residences.”

  As it happened, the un-boarded house Lacy had noticed when they had arrived was kept in readiness for visiting dignitaries, although no dignitaries had visited in over sixteen months, and none were expected for the foreseeable future. Tom and his family were welcome to use it.

  “I told them you were our brother,” Tom said to Daniel as they led the horses to the stable. “Thought it would cause less speculation.”

  “Did you inquire about Hannah?” Lacy asked.

  “We’re invited to dine with Commander Phillips tonight. We’ll ask then.”

  Phillips had been in charge last year when they’d come looking for Hannah. He hadn’t been much help then, and Lacy doubted he’d be much help now. Still, they had to ask.

  After leaving their soiled clothing with the lady at the camp laundry, they went on to their borrowed quarters, a small house with drooping lace curtains in the windows and a pot of dead daisies on the front porch. Inside was a dining and kitchen area with a hearth, a small parlor, and a single bedroom off which ran a steep set of stairs that led up to a narrow, low-ceilinged attic with a window on one peaked wall, a cot on the other, and unused furniture stored in between.

  The house was freezing and had a musty odor. Luckily there was ample firewood stacked beside the hearth, which Daniel used to get a fire going. There was also a working pump in the kitchen and a small hip tub on the back stoop, although the men decided they would go back to the bathhouse behind the laundry, where they could also get a shave.

  Lacy immediately set to work wiping off the layers of dust and grime.

  “You’ll stay in here,” Tom announced, dropping her saddlebag on the bed in the small bedroom, then waving away the puff of dust that rose off the counterpane. “And since there’s no door on that staircase,” he shot Daniel a warning look, “I’ll take the cot in the attic.”

  “Fine.” Daniel’s grin carried a warning of its own. “Then I’ll make a pallet out here by the fire. And to make certain your sister doesn’t get too cold, I’ll be sure to keep the door open.”

  “Like hell.”

  At five o’clock that evening, bathed, combed, and wearing their newly laundered clothing, the three of them crossed to the headquarters dining room, where the officers took their meals.

  There were only four, three of whom Lacy recognized from the previous year: Commander Phillips, who handled the administrative duties of the garrison, Major Barnes, who was in charge of military operations, and Lieutenant Grigsby, the quartermaster. The new face belonged to Second Lieutenant Walters, newly commissioned and the youngest of the four by at least three decades.

  “Good evening, Mrs. Ellis.” Commander Phillips bared his porcelain false teeth in a wide smile. “I am delighted to welcome you back.”

  “Thank you, Commander Phillips. You remember my brother Tom Jackson? And this is Daniel Hobart . . . our . . . em . . . stepbrother.”

  Once introductions were complete, the commander led them into the dining room, where a table had been set with white linens and china plates. “Were you able to find your daughter?” he asked as he helped Lacy into her chair.

  “No, commander. That’s why we’re here. We’re hoping you can help us.”

  “I shall certainly try. But as you no doubt have noticed, we have few travelers through here nowadays. Especially this winter.”

  “We’re more interested in last winter, sir.” Over a thick lentil soup flavored with onions and rosemary, she explained Daniel’s theory that Hannah could have fallen asleep in one of the pilgrim wagons heading over the pass last December. “The
y may not have even known she was there.”

  “That was a long time ago.” Major Barnes dabbed his napkin at his mouth with great care so he wouldn’t muss the wide, lacquer-coated mustache that curled like a pig’s tail against his ruddy cheeks.

  “A storm was brewing,” Tom reminded him. “Some of the wagons might not have made it over the pass before it hit, and could have been stranded here at the fort until it passed. Maybe one with a little blonde girl who didn’t speak.”

  The major thought for a moment. “I don’t recall stranded pilgrims. Or a blonde girl. But I do remember several wagons coming through just ahead of a three-day storm. When you arrived, asking about the girl, they were long gone.”

  “Can you tell us anything about the travelers?” Lacy pressed. “How many were in their party, where they were going? Any small remembrance might help.”

  They discussed it at length over buffalo steaks marinated in tequila, braised carrots with pine nuts, and creamed sliced potatoes. But no one remembered hearing anything about a lost child.

  Lacy felt almost ill—both from the rich food and the disappointment. She looked at Daniel, wondering why he had said nothing throughout the meal, but he continued to eat in silence, listening and observing, his scarred face betraying nothing of his thoughts. It wasn’t until they were finishing an overly sweet dessert of warm bread pudding topped with brandied nuts, raisins, and currants that he finally spoke.

  “Lieutenant Grigsby,” he said, turning to the portly quartermaster. “Do I hear a hint of Germany in your speech?”

  Pushing back his empty plate, Lieutenant Grigsby nodded. “You do, sir. My parents came to this country when I was a youth. German was the only language spoken in our home for many years.”

  “Do many German immigrants pass this way?”

  “A few.”

  “Around the time Hannah disappeared,” Daniel went on, “do you remember two big Conestoga wagons coming through? Maybe from Pennsylvania?”

  “I do. Took two teams of oxen to pull each one.”

  “Do you remember the people traveling in them?”

  “Pacifists.” A distasteful look crossed the old quartermaster’s deeply lined face. “Old Order. Planned to go all the way to California and start up their own church.”

  “Old Order?” Lacy asked, wondering what Daniel was leading up to.

  “Old Order Mennonites,” Lieutenant Grigsby explained. “Not outgoing like others of their sect. Plain dressers and standoffish like the Amish. But they do know how to build a wagon. Fine work, those Conestogas.”

  “I remember.” The commander signaled the trooper to clear the dessert plates. “An interesting group, but difficult to understand. Barely spoke English, as I recall. Luckily Lieutenant Grigsby and one of our sergeants were available to translate.” He rose. Chairs scraped as his officers followed his lead. Turning to help Lacy from her chair, he said, “My thanks to you, dear lady, and to your brothers, for sharing dinner with us. It’s always nice to see new faces at the table.”

  But Daniel had one last question as they filed out of the dining room. “Do any of you know if they made it to California? Or if they settled around here?”

  “They didn’t settle on this side of the pass,” Major Barnes answered. “But one of my patrols reported a new settlement at Jasper Lake. Might be the immigrants you’re looking for. I’ll check with Sergeant Mueller. If there are any other Germans in the area, he would probably know.”

  The gathering broke up soon after, and after thanking their host, Lacy and her brother and Daniel left the headquarters.

  The night was still and cold, the sky clear, except for a white ring around the moon. Lacy watched her breath fog and was relieved they would be indoors tonight. Even sandwiched between the hound and her brother the previous night, she had felt chilled to the bone.

  Until she woke up with Daniel Hobart’s hand stroking her back.

  Tom kicked at a clod of snow that had rolled down from the shoveled mounds lining the path. “Well, I guess that’s it. Another dead end.”

  “Maybe not.”

  Lacy looked up. “Do you think the German immigrants by Jasper Lake might have Hannah?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Why would you think that?”

  He hesitated a long time before answering. “Because Hannah told me. More or less.”

  “Here we go again,” Tom muttered.

  Ignoring her brother, Lacy asked Daniel what Hannah had said.

  “That the man who didn’t want her to leave talked funny. At first I thought she meant he stuttered or had a defect of speech. But then she said the lady talked funny, too.” He looked down at her, his gray eyes glittering like polished silver in the slanting moonlight. “If they didn’t speak English, or had heavy accents, wouldn’t a six-year-old think they talked funny?”

  “It’s possible.”

  “But what would German Mennonites want with Hannah?” Tom asked.

  “I don’t know. But maybe when we talk to the sergeant tomorrow, we’ll find out.”

  ***

  It was long after midnight. Unable to sleep, Daniel had left Roscoe on the pallet by the fire and moved to the table, where he had spent the last hour whittling on a chunk of wood. Chips and slivers of fir wood piled up on the table as he worked, but the figure was slow to take shape. He wished he had his sanding block, or a better carving knife. He wished a lot of things.

  “It would help if you gave me more information,” he muttered. “How can I find you if I don’t even know where to start looking?”

  Hannah didn’t answer. He didn’t really expect her to. Stubborn like her mama, she would come to him when she felt like it. If ever.

  Through the ceiling and floor joists overhead, he heard Jackson’s rumbling snore. But other than an occasional sigh from the hound, the music of the fire, and the snick of the blade cutting into the wood, the downstairs was as quiet as a church on Monday. Which is why he was so startled when he looked up and saw Lacy Ellis standing in the bedroom doorway. Sneakiness must run in the family.

  “Who are you talking to?” she asked, pulling her canvas duster tighter around her shivering form. She was barefoot, toes showing beneath the hem of the flannel nightdress she wore under the duster, and her braided hair hung over her shoulder like a thick rope of gold.

  “Come by the fire and get warm,” he offered once he’d gathered his thoughts. Leaning over, he pulled out the chair next to his. He would have gotten to his feet, but his trousers were unbuttoned, and he was afraid they would fall down. Luckily, his untucked shirt hid that. As well as his reaction to the way she looked. Even wrapped in a duster, the woman would test a saint.

  With a deep sigh, she sank into the chair.

  “Couldn’t sleep?” he asked.

  She shrugged and, wrapping her arms around her upraised knees, watched him work at the piece of wood. “What are you making?”

  “A cat.”

  “Hannah likes cats.”

  He smiled. “I know.”

  Blinking hard, she looked away. When she faced him again, her eyes were wet, but not brimming. “You think we’ll find her at the German settlement?”

  “Maybe. If not, I’ll keep looking.”

  Her nearness was an assault on his senses—the clean soap scent of her hair, the soft rush of her breathing, the heat of her body beside his. It was so distracting that Daniel was half afraid he would cut into his hand and not even notice.

  “That looks more like a frog,” she said after a while.

  “Frogs don’t have tails.”

  “That doesn’t either.”

  “It will. If I take my time and be patient and don’t rush it, it’ll all come out right. At least, that’s what I’m hoping.” He turned his head and looked at her, wondering if she caught the other meaning in his words.

  She must have. A deep flush moved from her cheeks to the tips of her ears.

  Here it comes, he thought. And sure enough...

  �
�About what happened in the shelter this morning.”

  “You were crying in your sleep,” he said when he saw she was struggling. “You needed comfort. I gave it. A simple thing.”

  “That’s not what I’m talking about.”

  He stopped carving and looked at her.

  “I heard what you said to Tom.”

  Ah . . . there it is. He had wondered how much she’d heard, but then had decided it didn’t matter. He was committed now—to her, to Hannah, to seeing how deep this odd, unexplainable connection between them went.

  He studied the block of wood in his hand. “I knew you were listening.”

  “You did?”

  He drew the blade across the wood and thought of the way her body had startled, then calmed under his touch. “The moment you came out of your dream, I felt it under my hand.”

  “Oh.” She hesitated, then said in a rush, “Daniel, I can’t think about courting now. I can’t think about anything but Hannah. Nothing else holds any interest for me. Nothing means anything anymore. Maybe it never will.”

  “I know.” Carefully setting the half-finished figurine and knife on the table, he sat back in his chair. “I’ve been through this, remember? So I know.”

  Tears welled up. He watched her battle them and felt a familiar ache move through his chest. “Losing Pete was hard, but Hannah . . . ” Tears won, overflowed, and rolled in glistening tracks down her cheeks.

  He wanted to taste them, kiss them away, hold her in arms that had been empty for too long.

  “Does it get any better, Daniel? Will this awful empty feeling ever go away?”

  Unable to keep from touching her, he reached over and took one of her hands in his. “No. Not completely. But it quits hurting so much, and eventually you learn to live with it.” Brutal but honest. He would never lie to this woman.

  She wept in silence for a time, then pulled her hand from his and wiped the tears away. “Sometimes I can’t even remember her face, and that terrifies me. Can you still picture your wife and son?”