Will decided he’d better try to dissuade Cal’s interest in the Army, or Mama would cry again. “The Army’s no place for boys, Cal. You wait until you’re of age before you decide whether to enlist. There’s no call to shoot a man unless he needs shooting. Most Indians don’t do us any harm. And the War will be over long before you’re old enough to join.”

“There’ll be another war,” Cal said, casting his line back into the water.

When they returned, Will helped the younger boys clean their fish in the yard. They threw the innards to Rufus, then Cal and Nate took their fish inside to show off to Mama and Mrs. O’Malley.

Maria came outside as Will washed his hands at the pump. “Cal and Nate are so proud of their catch,” she said, smiling. “Thank you for helping them.”

Will shrugged. “It was better than moping about here.”

“Are you still sad, Will?” she asked, handing him a towel.

“Just lost, I guess,” he said. “Nowhere to go. Nothing to do.” He frowned at her. “Would you like to take a ride on Shanty tomorrow? We could visit the Abercrombies.”

She blushed. “We’d better not.”

Will saw her pink cheeks. “I’m sorry I kissed you, Maria.”

The blush deepened. “Are you?”

Will handed her the towel back. “I don’t know. I liked kissing you.”

“I liked the kiss.”

“Do you care for me?” he asked. He wanted to know how she felt, but he wasn’t sure what he was asking. Or what he wanted the answer to be.

“Of course, I do, Will. I’ve cared for you for as long as I can remember.”

“How do you care for me?”

She turned away and stared toward the setting sun, waving a hand aimlessly. “I don’t know. It’s so confusing. I love you. I want you here. I like to spend time with you. But I don’t know what that means.”

Will sighed. “I don’t know what it means either. But I feel the same way.”

Talking with Maria only brought Will more turmoil. He knew Mama and Mac didn’t want him to kiss Maria again, but he thought another kiss might clarify his feelings. If he knew what Maria wanted, he’d do it. But she hadn’t said.

And Mac hadn’t yet come up with any work for Will, not in his own office nor with any of his business acquaintances in town.

It was up to Will to find something to do. He walked into town the following Monday and talked to storekeepers and other businessmen. On a whim, he walked into Sheriff Thomas’s office. Deputy Albee sat at one table reading the newspaper, while the sheriff smoked a cigar.

“Do you need anyone to help out here, Sheriff?” Will asked. “Another deputy?”

The sheriff frowned and pointed to a chair. “Sit down, boy.”

Will sat and waited while the sheriff eyed him.

“What kind of work are you looking for?” the sheriff said. “Do you really want to be a deputy?”

“I don’t know, sir. I figure I can do about anything.”

“What’d you think of your time with the militia?” the lawman asked, taking a deep draw on his cigar as he squinted at Will.

Did everyone know his business? Will swallowed, then said, “Well, sir, we found a new pass that’ll save emigrants several hundred miles on their trek. The expedition did all right.”

Sheriff Thomas nodded. “The reconnaissance was successful, I hear. But how did you like being in the Army?”

“It wasn’t the real Army, just a militia unit,” Will said. “But I guess I did all right.”

“I guess you did, too, according to your pa,” the sheriff said. “But did you like it?”

Did the sheriff truly want to know? “I didn’t much cotton to the regulation. It was hard work. I did the work, but I don’t want to do heavy labor for the rest of my life. I don’t plan to join the Army for good, sir, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Yes, that’s what I’m asking.” The sheriff squinted at him again. “So why do you want to work with me? Any lawman has to follow regulation—ask Albee here.” He gestured at his deputy, who grunted. “We have heavy work, unpredictable work. It ain’t much different from the Army, except we sleep in our own beds most nights.”

Will was quiet a moment, then said, “I need to find something productive to do, sir. I can’t sit at home all day, simply because my mama wants me there.”

Sheriff Thomas chuckled. “Well, boy, I can sympathize with you there. No man wants to sit home with his mama. Let me talk to your pa, and we’ll see what I can do for you.”

“Why do you have to talk to Mac?”

“Because you’re still underage, son. I won’t hire you without McDougall’s agreement.”

Jenny had watched William and Maria talking by the pump on Saturday. She saw Maria blush at whatever William said to her, and she worried about that blush all night. But she said nothing to Mac—he would probably get mad at Will again. While they were sewing Monday afternoon, she asked her daughter, “Was William bothering you the other day? Out by the pump?”

“No, Mama.” Maria shook her head, then sighed. “I just don’t know what to think.”

“About what?”

“About Will.” Maria hesitated, then said, “I love him. Like a brother. He’s always been good to me.”

Jenny paused before she asked, not sure if she wanted to know the answer, “Do you think you might feel more for him?”

“I don’t know,” Maria whispered. “But maybe.”

Jenny closed her eyes in a silent prayer for her two children. “Give it time, Maria. You’re only fourteen. You have years before you have to decide.”

“What if Will grows up and goes away?” Maria asked.

Jenny swallowed hard. That was her fear also. “He’s likely to, Maria. He’s already grown, and he’s likely to leave again at some point.” She took a deep breath. “We will have to hope he comes back. If he’s meant to return, he will.”

They sewed in silence after that. Jenny worried about her family. Everything had fallen apart after Jacob Johnson’s attack last spring—her own anguished memories rekindled and William’s life shattered. She didn’t know how to put their family back together. And she felt it was her fault they were broken.