Page 39 of Wagon Train Redemption
Her smile was fleeting. “I need stove.”
“Ve willmanage.”
The couple studied each other. Their loving support reminded him of his parents. They deserved whatever help Carson could give. “I’ll help get your stove.”
“Ah no. Too dangerous.”
“How much rope do you have? Can you get it?”
Lars studied him, then shifted his attention to the structure balanced on the precipice. His wife squeezed his arm. “Very well. I vill get it.” He trotted to the barn, his wife on his heels.
Their voices carried to Carson though he couldn’t make out their words. But their tone sounded like they argued about Carson’s offer. He got his own rope from the saddle and waited until they returned to say, “I’ll be careful.” He tied one rope around his waist and handed the ends of both to Lars. “Just in case the whole thing gives way, I’m counting on you to keep me from going with it.”
“Yah.” Lars wrapped the rope securing Carson around the nearest tree. “I vill not fail.”
The ground could be unstable, so Carson paused after each step before he proceeded. He reached the wall and pushed, at first gently and when nothing happened, he exerted more force. It seemed solid enough. Gulping in courage, he crept around the wall until the open kitchen stood before him. Should he save the table? Moving it would test how stable the situation was. Or the stove first? It was more important, so he placed one foot on the floor and slowly shifted his weight to it. The floor remained steady. One careful, guarded step at a time, he crossed to the stove. Moving cautiously, he secured the rope around it.
“Give a pull,” he hollered.
The rope grew taut. Carson pushed on the metal monster, and with a protesting screech, it began to move. He ducked out of the way as the chimney pipes crashed down, belching black soot.
The stove stopped moving as it caught on the fractured wall. The entire structure shuddered. Carson’s muscles coiled as he prepared to jump free. He held his breath. Nothing happened. He pushed the stove away from the obstruction, and it dropped from the floor. The mud caught it.
“I help.” Lars secured both ropes tightly, so if disaster should come upon them, they wouldn’t fall. Together, he and Carson carried the stove halfway to the barn. Carson set his side down.
“I’m going to get the pipes and maybe the table.”
Lars opened his mouth to protest, then nodded. “Only if it’s safe.”
“Of course.” It took two trips to get the pipes out. Carson headed back for the table.
“I don’t like this.” Lars held back the rope. “Table is not important. You not mind, do you?” He addressed the latter to his wife.
She shook her head. “Ve have stove. That is enough. Ve can rebuild. You and I. Yah?”
Lars took her hands in his. “You and I together. Yah.”
“Very well.” Carson untied the rope from around his waist, coiled his, and returned it to the saddle while Lars rolled his.
“You join us for lunch, yah?”
“Thank you. I will.” The sun was already far past its zenith, but none of them had noticed as they rescued items. “And I’ll help you get the stove set up.”
Lars looked about ready to refuse the offer, and then he chuckled. “Ve can use some help, yah?”
Mrs. Anderson pointed toward a basin of water, and Carson washed his hands and face, leaving the water black with soot. He emptied the container into the bushes.
Mrs. Anderson hurried into the barn, now their home, while Lars stirred the campfire coals and put coffee to boil.His wife soon returned with thick slices of bread and smoked fish filling.
Before they ate, Lars murmured a prayer in his native tongue, adding, “Thank you for sending the Mountie to help. Amen.”
As they ate, Lars and his wife asked questions about Carson. He explained he was escorting his family to Fort Taylor.
“You have wife, yah?”
“No. Constables can’t marry. But I plan to leave the force in September and file on a homestead.”
“You vill need a wife to help. Like my Hilde.” Lars beamed at her. “Together we build our own place.”
