White Water (20 page)

Kara's stomach felt queasy. “Can't we talk about something else?”

Tia shrugged. “Sure.” She picked at the blue fuzz on her blanket. “But I wouldn't be your friend if I didn't tell you Colin is really beating himself up inside. Like, he doesn't understand why you won't talk to him.” She lowered her voice. “He's talking about going away, Wakara. And I think, if you let him do that, you'll be really sorry.”

“You and Dad.” Kara swallowed the lump in her throat. “Colin's not home right now.” She knew it was no excuse—she'd had plenty of time to see Colin after the accident, but she just couldn't face him yet, her feelings were too mixed up. “He went back to Eagle Lodge to help Greg,” she went on. “They're bringing Lyman home today, and the vet told them to stop every ten minutes to let him rest.”

Tia shrugged. “What did you bring me?” She pointed to the book Kara had laid on the table next to the roses.

Glad for a change of subject, Kara snagged the blue binder. “Great-grandpa Harley's journal.”

“Hey, cool!” Tia sat up straighter. “Where'd we leave off?”

“Right here where Irish is talking about Kathleen. She
must have been his first wife or his fiancée, remember?
She died and he was really upset.” Kara flipped to the page
she had marked with a yellow sticky tab. “Then it skips to August 1, 1907.” She began to read.

Arrived in Sacramento end of July. The heat is stifling. We've stocked up on supplies and are headed out tomorrow
.

Kara frowned and turned the page. “There aren't any more entries until December. He talks about the cold weather and how they had to come back to the city.”

The claim didn't pan out as well as we would like. I managed to find a room over Murphy's, an establishment that passes as a Pub, and not in the best part of town. I must admit that for the first time since my Kathleen died, I'm feeling a bit homesick
.

“Poor guy,” Tia sympathized. Kara nodded and went on reading
.

I'm sweeping floors and washing dishes, but Clemens has taken to the poker table again. He says he will earn us a stake for another try at the gold fields this spring. I believe he cheats and hope he doesn't wind up dead
.

“Whoa, listen to this, Tia. It's not dated, but it can't be too much later, because he talks about a huge ice storm.”

I feel I may go crazy staring at four dirty walls night and day. Clemens has won himself a wife—an Indian woman, real quiet and shy. I told him what I thought about his heathen ways. He didn't much like it
.

“Wow!” Tia was leaning over the book, trying to read upside down. Kara shifted onto the bed and settled next to her, leaning back against the pillows. “There aren't any more entries in the journal, but Grandpa Sheridan found this along with everything else in that old trunk.” She pulled a sealed envelope from the back of the book and handed it to Tia. “Here, you read it. I'm too nervous.”

Tia opened the envelope. “Whoa. This was torn out of the journal too. Listen.”

Clemens has turned mean. The Indian woman is over forty and is with child. Clemens has threatened to kill both her and the man who lost her in a game of cards. I have terminated my association with the scoundrel, but am not as yet able to depart for home. A lack of funds keeps me here. That, and my fear for the safety of the woman and her unborn child
.

Tia took a deep breath. “Oh, Wakara, this is awful! But do you see what this means?”

Kara just nodded. She couldn't talk around the lump in her throat. Tia squeezed her hand. “Want to stop?” Kara shook her head no, and Tia scanned the rest of the page. “Boy, it really skips ahead.” She continued reading.

The child was born last night. Clemens left the Pub with a shotgun. I am troubled, and feel I must see to the welfare of this poor woman and her child, though I don't really know what I can do except to pray
.

“This part is really scribbled,” Tia frowned, “and the sentences are weird.”

Followed into the woods, but unarmed and too far away. One shot. Too late. “Wakara,” she says, and hands me the babe. The woman was dead, I swear I wouldn't have left her otherwise. Had to run—Clemens insane. God forgive me for not acting in a more timely manner
.

Tia unfolded the second page and gasped. “Oh, look. It's a letter to Wakara! Your great-grandmother.” She dropped the sheet into Kara's lap. “You'd better read it.” Kara picked it up and stared at the neat, clear handwriting. She swallowed back tears and began to read.

Kara took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She could picture Irish, thirty-eight years old and deeply in love with his beautiful Indian bride. She thought about the girl in her great-grandfather's drawing. They had only a few years together. He must have been devastated when she died.

“It all makes sense now, Tia.” Kara sat up and wiped the tears from her eyes. “My Great-grandmother Wakara could easily have had some Yahi blood. Her mother lived in Sacramento. Anne said some of the Yahi people escaped the massacre and were taken into other tribes.”

Tia sighed. “You're right. And who knows?” she said dreamily. “Your great-grandmother could have been related to Ishi—the Yahi Indian they found starving to death in California.”

Kara smiled and rolled her eyes. “Not likely.”

Tia flashed her an indignant look. “Why not? It was Ishi's mother who had the nickname, Wakara.”

Kara sighed. “Well, as Mrs. Kroeber said in her book, Ishi was the last of his tribe, and he died in 1916, so I guess we'll never know.”

A horn honked in the driveway, and Mrs. Sanchez called up the stairs, “Wakara, your father's here.”

Dad moved over and let her take the wheel, and Kara concentrated on her driving. When they pulled into the driveway, Dad got out of the car and pointed to the bunkhouse. “Colin's home. He and Greg got in half an hour ago.”

“Thanks, Dad.” Kara was determined not to get into another conversation about Colin. She parked the car down by the barn and went in to check Lyman. He was standing quietly munching hay. As far as she could tell, none of the wounds had broken open. An empty syringe in the tack room trash can told her Greg had given his horse a dose of Banamine. Good. Lyman was bound to be sore after the trip up Pine Creek Trail. She rubbed between his ears, gave him an apple treat, and went into the next stall to pet Lily. All the horses had been fed and watered. She gave them all a treat, then closed up the barn and hurried into the house.

Anne already had dinner on the table, and Kara pushed back a wave of disappointment when Greg came in alone.
I will not stress over Colin Jones
, she told herself as she reached for the bowl of mashed potatoes.

“Where's Colin?” Ryan broke the silence. “I wanted to show him my new John Wayne movie. Mark gave it to me as a present for almost being drowned.”

Greg shook his head. “I wouldn't count on it. Colin went into town for pizza. He said not to wait up for him.”

Dad frowned. “That doesn't sound like Colin; he always eats with the family. Although I guess his time off is his own.” He glanced at Kara, and she felt herself blush.

“What?” she said. “It's not my fault if Colin has decided he likes pizza better than Anne's cooking.” Greg and Dad just looked at her. She tried to ignore them and finish her dinner, but the roast beef tasted like rawhide, and the mashed potatoes turned to mush in her mouth.

When everyone had finished, she helped Anne clean up the kitchen. As she put the last of the silverware into the dishwasher, Greg burst into the room. “Where's Dad?” He was out of breath, and the ashen color of his face made Kara's stomach knot.

“What's wrong?” But the minute she asked him, she knew.

“Colin's gone. He left a note saying he felt that under the circumstances, it would be best for all of us if he left the Sheridans' employ.”

Anne moaned and sat down on the nearest chair. Kara stared at Greg. “Gone? What do you mean, gone? That note doesn't sound like Colin at all!”

Greg stared back at her, a hard look on his face. “You're right, it doesn't. But then, Colin hasn't been himself since the accident. He can't forgive himself for making what he
calls ‘a stupid mistake,' and some of us haven't made it any easier on him.”

Kara felt stunned. Could Colin really be gone? Worse, could she have driven him away? Greg broke into her thoughts. “Tell Dad I'm going after him, and I
will
bring him back.” He snagged his jacket and hat off the rack on the service porch and let the back door slam behind him.

As the pickup truck rattled down the drive, Kara's thoughts raged—
Colin can't be gone, he's part of the family—But he betrayed us because he wanted a thrill, and it almost got Ryan killed—Everyone makes mistakes—That was more than a mistake, it was a deliberate choice
.

The knot in Kara's stomach tightened until it was hard to draw a breath. She sat down heavily at the kitchen table and felt Anne's hand cover her own. When she looked up, she realized Dad had come back into the kitchen.

“I heard,” he said, and joined them at the table. “Don't worry, Greg will find Colin, and when he does, we'll settle this once and for all.” Anne nodded, moved over to the sink, and began making a fresh pot of coffee. Dad turned to Kara. “Take my advice and talk to him, Wakara. Don't bury your anger. Believe me, it only makes things worse.”

Anne spoke up. “Anger hides in darkness, but the devil cannot get at what is in the light.”

“You're both telling me to forgive him, right?” Kara's hands were shaking, and she folded them in her lap. “What if I can't? Sure, he admits he made a stupid mistake, but his mistake could have cost Ryan his life.”

“Have you never made a mistake?” Dad asked softly.

“Well, sure, but not one that serious.”

“All have sinned,” Anne reminded her quietly. “Our sins cost Jesus His life.”

Kara sat there stunned. “Oh.” She couldn't think of anything else to say.
“Forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you.”
Her cheeks were wet with tears, but she didn't rub them away. Jesus had forgiven her. He'd forgiven Colin too. What right did she have to say Colin's sins were worse than hers were?

The knot in Kara's stomach loosened. She felt quiet inside.
Please, God, bring Colin home
, she prayed silently.
I'll make it right, I promise
. Anne was pouring coffee into mugs, and Dad got up to help her. Kara sat still, enjoying the feeling of peace, like snuggling under the covers on a stormy night.

Dad and Anne joined her at the table. She wrapped her fingers around the coffee mug and realized her hands had stopped shaking. When she heard the sound of tires on gravel, a thrill of hope shot through her. “They're home!” She jumped to her feet and raced to the window. The truck came to a stop in front of the bunkhouse. In the glow of the halogen light, she could see two people in the cab. She ran to the back door, but before she jerked it open, she turned around. “Thanks, Dad; thanks, Anne. I owe you one.”

Dad gave her a thumbs up, and Anne flashed her an understanding smile.

Linda Shands
is a prolific writer of magazine articles and the author of four adult novels and one nonfiction book. She loves the Oregon wilderness and lives in the small town of Cottage Grove with her husband, a cat, two horses, and twin golden retrievers
.