Page 38 of Wagon Train Redemption
Tension creaked up his neck at the possibility of what he’d find.
Trees crowded in along the trail. The scent of wet leaves and damp ground rose. He sniffed. Did he detect smoke?
He urged King to a trot. He gave every inch of the area careful study as he progressed.
“Whoa.”
King pranced and snorted.
“Quiet, boy.” Carson leaned forward. Through the trees, a small fire burned. A campfire carefully contained, which meant there had to be people around. He saw no one and, after a moment, eased forward one careful step at a time. The back of his neck prickled. Where were those who tended the fire? A clearing appeared before him. He again reined in the horse and scanned his surroundings. Behind a screen of trees stood a building of some sort. Perhaps a barn. He made out voices.
“Hello,” he called.
The voices silenced. A man stepped into sight, a rifle in his hand. As soon as he saw Carson’s red serge, the air rushed from him.
“Howdy.” The man was short and stocky, his beard and hair blond. Blue eyes studied Carson as carefully as Carson studied him.
A woman peeked out from a tree, most of her hidden behind the thick trunk. From what Carson could see, she was as blond as her husband and about the same height.
The man set his rifle aside. “Surprised to see a Mountie here.”
“We manage to show up from time to time. Name’s Constable Woods.” He held out his hand.
The man stepped forward and gave a firm shake. “Lars Anderson.” He eased back. “So vhat brings ya this way?”
Carson detected an accent. From behind him, he pulledout the shirt he’d found in the water. Then he held it out. “Found this and wondered if someone needed help.”
“Lars, it’s yours,” the woman called.
“Yah. Is mine.” He took the shirt. “Thanks.”
Although the man had not invited him to do so, Carson dismounted. “What happened?”
“Lost our house.” The words crackled.
From the trees came a choked sound.
“I’m sorry.”
“Come and see.” Lars signaled Carson to follow him. The woman came into the open and caught her husband’s arm.
They went toward the edge of the hill. Before them, the ground fell away, a gaping hole with a corner of a building clinging to the edge. The woman’s breath chattered in and out.
“When I saw vhat was happening ve rushed to get stuff from the house.” Lars put his arm around his wife’s shoulders. “Couldn’t get it all.”
The three of them stared at the area.
“Ve will rebuild away from the edge.”
Carson looked around. “Where are your things?”
“Barn.” Lars pointed to the low structure Carson had noticed as he rode up. “Ve live there for now. Horses can stay outside now.”
“Ve need stove.” Both desperation and determination hardened the woman’s words. “It still be in there.”
Carson edged forward to see past the half wall. It had been their kitchen. A table, some cupboards, and the stove remained on the tilted floor.
“I wouldn’t let my wife help me get it,” Lars explained. “Too dangerous. A wife is more valuable than a stove.” He smiled down at Mrs. Anderson.
