Keeping Faith. Hannah Alexander

received my letters and you did not? Don’t you think that’s odd?”

      “Why would I think it odd? From my perspective, you had forgotten about me and found someone else.”

      Joseph gritted his teeth. How this woman could drive him to distraction with her stubbornness. “You didn’t at least read Matthew’s letter for yourself?”

      “Mine and Matthew’s was a business partnership. I didn’t read his personal mail, nor he mine.”

      Joseph took a moment for those last words to sink in. As they did, he continued to doubt his own perception. “Business partnership? You and Matthew?”

      She tugged her arm from his grasp, and he realized he’d stopped walking. He caught up and fell into step beside her again.

      “It was a socially acceptable way to form a partnership and spend all our time together as he taught me medicine,” she said. “You must have some grasp about how much there is to learn.”

      “Dr. Fenway?” called Audy Reich from Mrs. Ladue’s side. “Hon, I think we need you over here.”

      After a final look at Joseph, Victoria gathered her skirts and hurried toward the group huddled beside the raging creek. Joseph watched her for a moment, stymied. The Victoria Foster he had known and loved before she’d married Matthew Fenway would never have lied. But Matthew had always been an honorable man. If Victoria didn’t receive those letters, then who did?

      * * *

      Claude was still gagging and coughing up creek water when Victoria reached him. Luella sat on the ground beside her son. Although Victoria gave her an assuring nod, she felt ill equipped to give her friend any kind of assurance.

      “Boy’s swallowed lots of water.” McDonald’s voice was gruff as if from years of disuse in his solitary search for trails. “Luella did, too.”

      “No, see to Claude,” Luella said. “I’ll be okay.”

      Victoria tugged Claude onto his side as the creek continued to pour from his mouth. “We’ll take care of all of you. Mr. McDonald, would you brace him for me?”

      She saw Joseph watching from a distance, waiting for a signal. She nodded, and he returned it. Time to get the treatments started.

      Heidi wrapped her arms around her mother, sobbing. Luella’s hair was drenched with mud that covered her clothing and face. Victoria took both mother and daughter into her arms.

      “This is horrible.” Luella’s whispered words came out staccato from her shivering body. She twisted her work-worn hands in her lap.

      Victoria grabbed the blanket a man offered then wrapped it around Luella’s shoulders. “I know. Take deep breaths—try to relax.”

      “I just lost Barnabas last year.” She looked at Victoria with frightened eyes. “To think that I might’ve lost my Claude....” Luella’s sobs came in silence, as if from long practice, and Victoria held her more tightly. “Captain Rickard and the men are gathering logs. This won’t be comfortable, but we’ll do what we can to keep you well.”

      Luella nodded, sniffing. “I’m sorry. I know you lost your Matthew last year. You know how it feels.”

      Victoria felt like an imposter.

      Mr. Reich knelt beside them, jerking his head toward the water. “Think we’re far enough from the danger, Doc?”

      Victoria glanced at the creek, which, if anything, carried more refuse than before. “I believe we should find our way farther up into the forest for safety.” She helped Claude and Luella onto their feet, dreading the consequences of this awful day.

      * * *

      McDonald walked over to Joseph. “I’ll go get more logs, Captain, unless you’d rather I go knock those Johnston boys’ heads together.”

      Joseph thought about it a moment, then shook his head. “I’ll deal with them. But I think we have enough logs for now. Just don’t go trying to cross the creek before morning.”

      McDonald nodded and turned to help the others move closer to the wagons. Joseph made his way toward the Johnston boys as they stretched out their rope and leaned crazily over the floodwaters to wash off the mud.

      Buster, eighteen and full of vinegar, had a longish face and sharp features that made him look serious and much wiser than his years. Much wiser than he actually was, for sure.

      “That clumsy oaf got the rope all tangled and then dropped one end into the water,” Buster said. “We barely caught it before a log could get tangled in it. Then the mud just fell out from under him and we couldn’t get him out.”

      “He isn’t clumsy.” Gray glared at his brother in an unspoken reprimand. “We tried to grab him.” The younger brother was by far the smarter of the two, but Buster controlled him like a pet dog. “I almost had him, but then he caught that old stump. I told him to hold on and I’d get the rope.”

      “And you didn’t think to pull him out?” Joseph demanded.

      “What was he supposed to do?” Buster asked. “We needed the rope for that. Couldn’t reach him any other way. He was too far out.”

      “His mother didn’t have any trouble getting to him,” Joseph said.

      “He’d floated farther down by then.” Buster’s voice rose with youthful outrage. “I was trying to get the rope untangled so I could throw it out for him to catch.”

      Joseph reached for the rope in question. “I’ll take that if you don’t mind.”

      Buster refused to release it. “Hey, you can’t take my dad’s rope away from us! We’re going to need it.”

      “You mind telling me why you felt it was so important to stand over here and plot to cross the creek when you’d been ordered not to?”

      “We would’ve waited for the right time.” Buster’s contrary attitude had begun to irritate Joseph from the first day the boys joined them. Buster also knew how to egg on the younger boys. He was a natural leader—a dangerous quality in one so pigheaded.

      Joseph stepped forward and loomed over Buster until the boy released the other end of his prized rope. “You need to think past the end of your nose, Johnston, before you get someone killed.”

      Buster grimaced and looked away. “Claude’s fine, isn’t he?”

      Joseph glanced over his shoulder, where Victoria had moved up the hillside with her patients. “No thanks to you, he’s safe for now, but if he or any of the others get sick from swallowing contaminated water, I’m holding you boys responsible. You could have kept half the camp from risking their lives if you’d followed my orders in the first place.” He turned and walked uphill toward the rescue team.

      “We’re going to need that rope to get across the creek,” Buster called after him.

      Joseph looped the item in question over his arm, ignoring Buster’s protest. Instead of waiting at his brother’s side, sixteen-year-old Gray followed Joseph—a habit he’d begun to develop soon after joining the wagon train three weeks ago. Joseph suspected it was one reason Buster acted out so often.

      “You should help your brother move that wagon away from the water,” Joseph told the boy. “You never know about flash floods.”

      Gray snorted. “He won’t move it.”

      “You don’t think it’s in a dangerous place?”

      “You think my opinion matters to him? I’m his stupid little brother.”

      “I need you to help me with the patients, then.”

      The boy looked up at Joseph, eyes brightening.

      “If I find out what Dr. Fenway needs, will you gather the items and help with treatments?”

      Gray