“Not their faces.” Daniel probed his memories. But all he found were quick glimpses—impressions—that hovered just at the edge of his vision for an instant, then were gone. A smile, the sound of her laughter, the grip of his tiny hand around his finger. Never their faces.
He took a deep breath and let the memories go on a long exhale. “What I remember most,” he finally said, “is the way I felt when I was with them. That doesn’t ever change.” He looked over at her and smiled. “But you’ll get better, Lacy. And when we find Hannah and bring her home, everything will feel right to you again, and that empty feeling will pass. I can wait until then to court you.”
She smiled back, her lips quivering with the effort not to cry. “Oh, Daniel . . . ” Lifting her hand, she laid it against his scarred check as if the puckered ridges against her palm didn’t matter in the least. “You are the dearest man.” Leaning toward him, she pressed her lips to his.
He froze, shocked and delighted, every sense focused on the smell of her hair, the salty taste of her tears, the warm breath filling his mouth. His arms started up, but she was already drawing away.
“Thank you,” she whispered. Then, before he could regain his senses, she rose and went back into the bedroom.
He watched the door close behind her, his heart thumping, blood singing through his veins. Hope could be a dangerous thing, he realized, letting out a deep breath. But after seven empty, lonely years, he was willing to risk it.
He went to sleep smiling, only to be jerked from Lacy’s arms and thrown back into the chaos of war. Then he realized it was a bugle sounding reveille, not the call to retreat—and Roscoe panting in his face, not Lacy.
Hell of a disappointing way to start the day.
Rubbing a hand through his hair, he shoved the hound aside and sat up. The fire was down to coals, and the chill in the room made him shiver. Overhead, floorboards creaked as Jackson moved toward the stairs.
With a yawn, Daniel rose from his pallet and stoked the fire, then righted the clothing he’d slept in. Wrinkled, but clean enough to go one more day. By the time he returned from the privy out back, the bugler was sounding morning colors, Lacy had wash water heating, and Jackson was parked by the hearth with Roscoe, waiting for the coffee to boil.
As he hung his jacket on a peg by the back door, a trooper arrived to inform them Sergeant Mueller would be happy to join them in the mess hall for breakfast and answer their questions about the German settlers in the area.
An hour later, they were on their way with the sergeant and six troopers to visit the small settlement of Mennonites on the banks of Jasper Lake.
***
Tom reined in beside her, looking disgruntled and spoiling for a fight.
Lacy ignored him, too distracted to deal with his foolishness. For the past two hours, they had moved at a fast pace despite the snow. Now they were starting the descent into a long, narrow valley dominated by the vast white expanse of the frozen lake. With every mile closer to their destination, her anxiety had grown.
Was Hannah waiting down there for them? Would she be the same loving child she had once been? Would she forgive her mother for not coming sooner?
Fear closed like a fist around her heart. But even so, hope sang through her veins, so real and powerful she could taste it. Soon she would hold her daughter in her arms. Soon this terrible ordeal would end. She knew it with a certainty that left no room for doubt.
“You’re doing it again,” Tom said.
“Doing what?”
“Getting your hopes up.”
So that’s what has him going, she thought, wearily. She didn’t understand why her brother refused to believe Daniel. She knew Tom was only trying to protect her, but Daniel . . .
She smiled, remembering that moment of impulse by the fire when she’d kissed him. He had looked so startled. So addled. So . . . happy. No, she needed no protection from Daniel Hobart. He would never hurt her.
“It’s wrong what he’s doing, Lacy. He shouldn’t be dragging you on these desperate searches.”
“And what if he’s right, Tom? What if Hannah is down there right now, waiting for us?”
“You really believe she is? That she just happened to fall asleep in a wagon that just happened to look like ours, and now she’s being held in Jasper Lake by German Mennonites? Can’t you hear how crazy that sounds?”
“Keep your voice down.” She glanced back at the six troopers following, then ahead to where Daniel rode beside the sergeant, his broad shoulders swaying with the movement of the horse. She doubted that with his faulty hearing he had heard Tom over the jangle of bits and crunch of snow under the horses’ hooves, but she didn’t want discord to mar this perfect day.
“You’re a smart woman,” Tom went on in a lower voice. “How can you believe all that nonsense?”
“Because Daniel does. And if Daniel believes Hannah is at Jasper Lake, then I trust him enough to believe it, too. This time, we’ll find her. I can feel it, Tom. She’s there.”
A sad, weary look came into his eyes. “And what if she’s not, Sis?”
“Don’t worry. She will be.”
“I hope so.”
As they neared the settlement, Daniel dropped back to join Tom and Lacy so Sergeant Mueller could lead the troopers in first. As he fell in beside her, he gave a half smile that belied the worry in his eyes. “You ready?”
She wondered why he seemed anxious, too, then remembered what Doctor Halstead had said about Hannah being Daniel’s redemption. He had almost as much at stake here as she did. Finding Hannah would change things for both of them, open doors neither had ever expected to go through again.
“I am,” she said, and pulled out the rag doll she’d stuffed inside her duster before they left. “I even remembered to bring Miss Peep.”
He studied the yarn-haired doll with the patched arm and missing eye. “And would Miss Peep’s first name be Bo?”
“Lil’ Bo.”
“Of course.” Some of the tension seemed to leave him. “Mueller says there’s not much to the settlement,” he said, leaning forward to include Tom in the conversation. “A half dozen cottages, a barn, and an icehouse where they store blocks of ice they cut from the lake. When the roads clear, they cart them down to Bridgerton for the refrigerated railcars coming out of the central valley. Good money, the sergeant says. Enough to keep them going, anyway.”
“Who are we going to talk to first?” Tom asked.
“Their church leader. Holtzmann. Mueller says he’s a reasonable man.” As he sat back, his gaze shifted to Lacy. “What are you grinning about?”
“This. Hannah.” Unable to stop herself, she laughed out loud. “She’s here, Daniel. I can feel it.”
***
Peter Holtzmann was a robust man of middle years, with a full beard streaked with gray, a friendly smile, and a handshake that made Daniel’s fingers go numb.
“Willkommen, willkommen,” he said, releasing Daniel’s hand to pump Jackson’s. Two other men came forward, nodding and smiling, but thankfully, neither offered bone-crushing handshakes. Three women and several children hung back, watching in friendly expectation.
Mueller spoke to the men for a moment, then translated for Daniel. “They don’t get many visitors out here, so they’re real happy to see you.” He grinned, showing a chip in one front tooth and tobacco stains on the others. “They’re hoping you’ve heard the calling and come to be baptized.”
Alarmed, Daniel glanced at the Mennonites and shook his head.
They nodded and smiled back.
Feeling out of his depth and hoping Jackson would do the talking like he usually did, Daniel glanced back to where he stood with his sister, who was twisting her hands in that nervous way she had. “You want to handle this?”
Jackson shook his head and looped a protective arm around Lacy’s shoulders. “This mess is your doing, Hobart. You handle it.”
Daniel turned back to Mueller. “Tell them about Hannah. Be sure to mentio
n she’s six years old, blonde, and doesn’t speak. Explain that she got lost last year at Volker’s Crossing and may have stowed away on one of their wagons.”
As Mueller relayed his message, Daniel watched the Germans’ expressions go from friendly to puzzled, and, finally, to sadly regretful.
A hole seemed to open in his chest.
“No girl,” Mueller reported after Holtzmann finished speaking. “None here younger than fifteen.”
Daniel felt like he’d been kicked. He couldn’t believe it. Didn’t want to. Wouldn’t. “Ask them again.”
Reluctantly, Mueller did.
The Germans listened, their regret changing to consternation, then offense.
“No girl,” Muller said. “We’re done here. Mount up,” he called to the troopers waiting at a distance with the horses.
At a sound, Daniel looked over to see Lacy gasping, hands pressed to her chest, her face stark with disbelief.
“No,” she choked out. “She’s here!” Pushing out of her brother’s grip, she grabbed Daniel’s arm so tightly he felt the dig of her nails through his duster and jacket. “Make them look, Daniel! I know she’s here. You tell them to look in every house!” Sobbing now, she whirled toward Holtzmann. “Where is my daughter?”
Chaos erupted—the bewildered Mennonites babbling in German, Mueller babbling back, Tom shouting, and Daniel trying to calm Lacy.
“You said, Daniel!” Arms flailing, she rounded on him, one hand catching him a stinging blow across his scarred cheek. “You promised she was here!”
Daniel was defenseless before her rage, her words causing him more pain than her fists. “We’ll keep looking, Lacy, I promise. It’s not over.”
“Oh God . . . ” She sagged, hands over her face. “She’s gone. This time, she’s really gone.”
“Lacy,” he said, reaching out to her.
“Don’t!” She jerked away, her beautiful face twisted in anguish.
He let his arm drop back to his side. Felt the hole in his chest open wider. Knew something terrible was happening here but didn’t know how to fix it. “Lacy, I’m sorry. Let me help you—”
“Help me?” Her breathing sounded ragged. Tears ran down to drip from her chin. “Let her go. That’s how you can help me. Let her go, so I can let her go.”
“I can’t.”
For a moment, she went still, then the light seemed to fade from her eyes. “Then stay away from me, Daniel. Stay away from New Hope and out of my life, because I can’t bear this anymore.”
Daniel watched her walk with Tom toward their horses and knew he’d lost something he could never replace. She had trusted him—counted on him—and he had let her down. Just like he’d let down his family seven years earlier. Numbly, he left the sergeant and Holtzmann arguing and went where a trooper held Merlin’s reins. He started to mount when Mueller’s voice stopped him.
“Holtzmann said there’s another settlement nearby. Not German. Came here the same time Holtzmann’s group did. He thinks they came through Volker’s Crossing, but he’s not sure. You want to talk to them?”
Daniel looked inquiringly at Lacy, but she wouldn’t meet his eyes.
Tom did, and shook his head in warning.
Daniel felt half sick. His failure to find Hannah was bad enough, but seeing what this latest disappointment had done to Lacy sat like a stone in his chest. “Where on the lake?” he asked the sergeant. He had little hope of finding Hannah there, but he had to look.
“South. I’ll send two men with you so you don’t get lost, but the rest of us are escorting your brother and sister back to the fort. Good luck.”
***
The settlement at the end of the lake consisted of two houses that were little more than stacked log shacks covered with animal pelts of every size, shape, and color, a three-sided shelter for a bony milk cow and two ancient horses, and a dead snag flying a tattered confederate flag.
Desperation hung as thick as wood smoke in the cold, still air.
As soon as they rode up, people spilled out of the houses, their eager faces testament to the loneliness of a life in such a remote place.
“Howdy, howdy!” An old man with a hatchet nose waved in welcome, his other arm around an elderly woman with a toothless grin, nodding and mumbling at his side. Two more adults came out of the other house—their son and his wife, Daniel guessed, judging by the man’s nose—and at least a dozen children.
None was blonde.
Daniel told them about Hannah and asked his questions. He wasn’t surprised to learn Hannah wasn’t there.
Ten minutes later, he and the troopers were heading back to Middleton.
Daniel had felt this low only one other time in his life.
They arrived at the fort well after dark. Sergeant Mueller met them at the stables and told the troopers their midnight rations were waiting in the mess hall. “You’re welcome to join them,” he told Daniel, as he walked with him to the stall assigned to Merlin. “There’s an open cot in the barracks, too, if you’d like.”
Daniel wondered if the offer was the sergeant’s idea or Jackson’s. He’d seen no light in the windows of their borrowed quarters when he’d ridden by. A sure sign he was no longer welcome there.
“Thanks,” he said, and slipped the bridle over Merlin’s head.
Propping a shoulder against the wall, Mueller picked at his teeth with a piece of straw. “Fixing to leave at dawn with the others?”
Hiding his surprise, Daniel grabbed a scrap of burlap from a bucket by the door and began rubbing down Merlin. “Not sure,” he hedged. He wasn’t surprised Lacy would want to leave for New Hope as soon as possible . . . but dawn? Was it her hope to get out before he returned, so she wouldn’t have to see him again?
The notion left a bitter taste in his mouth.
“Happen to know where my dog is?” he asked after a moment. Knowing the ride to Jasper Lake would be a hard one, he had left Roscoe with the quartermaster, who seemed to have taken a liking to him.
“Third stall down. Considering he wolfed down two bowls of buffalo chili, I suggest you leave him there for the night. Not allowed in the barracks, anyway.”
Daniel nodded, dropped the rag into the bucket and gave his weary horse one last pat. He doubted Merlin would be making any escape attempts tonight. He was already nodding off in his feed box.
Daniel wondered why Mueller was still there, when the sergeant said, “There’s a man. Trapper by the name of McMillan. Comes by the fort now and again. He’s here now, in fact, sleeping off a bottle of Forty Rod in the guardhouse. You should talk to him.”
Daniel turned, his heart kicking in his chest. “About Hannah?”
The soldier shrugged.
“You think he has her?”
“Hell, no. The man’s a talker and a drinker, but he’s harmless.”
“Then you think he has information about her.”
Another shrug. “I’m saying nobody knows this country like McMillan does. If I lost something in these mountains, he’s the person I’d go to first.” Mueller tossed the straw aside and straightened from the wall. “You can talk to him yourself when he sobers up.”
“Have you told Jackson and Mrs. Ellis?”
The sergeant shook his head. “Not sure they’re in the mood to hear it. Besides, McMillan may not know anything, anyway.”
***
It was still dark the next morning when Daniel awoke to reveille. After a cold wash, he went with the other troopers for breakfast in the mess hall. A half hour later, he left with a plate of scraps for Roscoe and a list of questions in his mind for the trapper still snoring in the guardhouse. He’d give him until noon.
Leaving the stable several minutes later, he saw Jackson standing beside two saddled mounts and a loaded packhorse outside their borrowed quarters. No sign of Lacy. Daniel angled toward him.
Jackson watched him approach, one hand resting on the pommel. He looked more weary than mad, but Daniel saw hard resolve in the set of his jaw. “I’m
guessing you didn’t find her,” he said when Daniel stopped before him.
“No.”
“There’s a surprise.”
“But Mueller told me about a trapper—”
“I don’t want to hear it,” Jackson snapped. “You can chase every damn rumor you hear, Hobart, but we’re done. My sister meant it when she said to stay out of our lives.”
A thousand words rose in his mind, but Daniel knew none of them would change what he had done. “How is she?”
“How do you think she is? Jesus.” Jackson let out a deep breath. Some of his anger seemed to go with it. “She’s a mess. Cried all the way home, vomited all night, and looks like hell this morning. I need to get her home.”
“I understand.”
Anger flashed again. “Do you?”
Knowing an answer wasn’t expected, Daniel didn’t give one. He had none to give, anyway. There was no excuse or justification for what he had done to Lacy. In his desperation to prove his sanity, he had run roughshod over a woman struggling with the deepest grief a mother could face. He had manufactured hope out of troubled dreams, then fed it to a woman starving for it. It was unforgivable. Even worse than abandoning his family to fend for themselves in the middle of a war. “I never meant to hurt her.”
“Hell, I know that.” Jackson wrestled with his anger a moment longer, then gave it up. “I know you have feelings for her. But every time she goes through this, it’s like losing Hannah all over again. It’s killing her. You’re killing her, Hobart, with your wild theories and false hopes. She can’t take it anymore.”
“I know.” Regret lodged like a fist in his throat. He looked past Jackson at the darkened house and wondered if Lacy was watching from behind the drooping curtains. The need to see her one more time was a fire in his belly. But he doubted she would open the door to him, much less listen to what he had to say.
“Tell her I’m sorry, Tom. And that I won’t bother her anymore.” Blindly, he turned away.
“Wait.” Jackson pulled something from his saddlebag and held it out.
Miss Peep.
Daniel stared at the battered rag doll and wanted to howl, hit something, remake the past. “She doesn’t want it?” he asked, taking it in shaking hands.
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