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  Praise for

  Prairie Song

  “Mona Hodgson pens a wonderful story of love and self-reflection in Prairie Song. Touching on elements of real life that are relevant to today, Mona weaves in a loving message of hope and forgiveness that gives the reader cause to pause and think on the blessing we have in grace. I enjoyed reading this story and definitely recommend it to readers who find pleasure in a tender historical romance.”

  —TRACIE PETERSON, award-winning author of over ninety books, including the Land of Shining Water series

  “Writing with great sensitivity, Mona Hodgson has crafted a beautiful story of family loyalties, loss, and forgiveness. Out of the pain of addiction springs new hope and strength and a chance for love. Prairie Song is a heartfelt journey you won’t want to miss.”

  —MARGARET BROWNLEY, New York Times best-selling author of Dawn Comes Early, Waiting for Morning, and Gunpowder Tea

  “As hearts and lives are still healing from the effects of the Civil War, the colorful cast of characters in Prairie Song will take you on an adventure where love is as unpredictable as the journey west. With a quilting circle of friends all seeking new beginnings, and a group of charming soldiers yearning to win their hearts, sweet romance abounds in this first installment of Mona Hodgson’s Hearts Seeking Home series.”

  —JOANNE BISCHOF, author of Be Still My Soul and Though My Heart Is Torn

  “I fell in love with Caleb and Anna from the first page, and as their journeys led them down the path of love and faith, I followed happily. Prairie Song is a novel that will stay with me long after the last page has been turned. Mona Hodgson has done it again with Prairie Song!”

  —KATHLEEN Y’BARBO, best-selling author of the Secret Lives of Will Tucker series and the Rocky Mountain Heiress series

  OTHER BOOKS BY MONA HODGSON

  HISTORICAL FICTION

  The Quilted Heart

  Dandelions on the Wind

  Bending Toward the Sun

  Ripples Along the Shore

  The Sinclair Sisters of Cripple Creek

  Two Brides Too Many

  Too Rich for a Bride

  The Bride Wore Blue

  Twice a Bride

  CHILDREN’S BOOKS

  Bedtime in the Southwest (Northland Publishing)

  Real Girls of the Bible: A 31-Day Devotional (Zonderkidz)

  The Princess Twins and the Puppy (Zonderkidz I Can Read)

  The Princess Twins Play in the Garden (Zonderkidz I Can Read)

  The Princess Twins and the Tea Party (Zonderkidz I Can Read)

  The Princess Twins and the Birthday Party (Zonderkidz I Can Read)

  The Best Breakfast (Zonderkidz I Can Read)

  Thank You, God, for Rain (Zonderkidz I Can Read)

  For a complete and current listing of Mona’s books, including any out-of-print titles she may still have available, please visit her website at www.monahodgson.com.

  PRAIRIE SONG

  PUBLISHED BY WATERBROOK PRESS

  12265 Oracle Boulevard, Suite 200

  Colorado Springs, Colorado 80921

  All Scripture quotations or paraphrases are taken from the King James Version.

  This is a work of fiction. Apart from well-known people, events, and locales that figure into the narrative, all names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Copyright © 2013 by Mona Hodgson

  Cover design by Kelly L. Howard

  Published in association with the literary agency of Janet Kobobel Grant, Books & Such, 52 Mission Circle, Suite 122, PMB 170, Santa Rosa, CA 95409-5370.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying and recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  Published in the United States by WaterBrook Multnomah, an imprint of the Crown Publishing Group, a division of Random House Inc., New York.

  WATERBROOK and its deer colophon are registered trademarks of Random House Inc.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Hodgson, Mona Gansberg, 1954–

  Prairie song / Mona Hodgson.—First edition.

  pages cm.—(Hearts Seeking Home; novel 1)

  eISBN: 978-0-307-73117-3

  I. Title.

  PS3608.O474P73 2013

  813′.6—dc23

  2013014765

  v3.1

  In loving memory of

  William Bert Gansberg,

  my earthly father.

  A man who had an infectious

  sense of adventure.

  Thanks, Dad!

  Contents

  Cover

  Other Books by This Author

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Epigraph

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Readers Guide

  Author’s Note

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Have I not commanded thee? Be strong and of a good courage; be not afraid, neither be thou dismayed: for the LORD thy God is with thee whithersoever thou goest.

  —JOSHUA 1:9

  1

  1866, April

  Anna Goben’s bedchamber spun about her.

  Hattie Pemberton, a friend from the Saint Charles quilting circle, stood behind her at the dressing table, weaving Anna’s golden-brown hair into a loose chignon. A cord of hair hung on either side of Anna’s face while Hattie worked on the back. Anna’s stomach felt like it had taken in boarders with fluttering wings, and seeing herself in the mirror above the table wasn’t helping matters. Closing her eyes, she gripped the wrought-iron handles on the bench as if she could brace herself against the wave of nausea. Was her sudden decision to marry Boney the reason for the jitters, or did all women feel sick to their stomach and lightheaded directly before they wed?

  She’d probably feel less nervous if more of her quilting circle friends had been able to come, especially the married ones. Emilie and Maren had planned to attend the wedding, but then Emilie’s father fell ill that morning and Caroline needed Maren’s help in the dry goods store.

  A twist of hair bounced free, tickling Anna’s ear as Hattie’s tender hand rested on her shoulder. Anna opened her eyes and made herself look in the mirror. Concern etched her friend’s blue-gray eyes.

  Hattie tipped her head, causing the w
ide brim of her yellow hat to bobble. “You look as if you’ve seen an apparition. You’re nearly as white as the frame on the mirror. Are you feeling well?”

  Anna slowly turned her head to the right, then just as deliberately to the left, all the while looking into Hattie’s reflection in the mirror. No, she was not all right. Nothing had been right since her brother’s death. The void Dedrick’s absence left in the family was wrong, and she’d been unable to make anything right since the letter from the Department of War arrived nearly a year and a half ago. She patted the hand on her shoulder. Her friend also knew about the high cost of the war. Hattie’s brother had come home last year spared, but her father had died in battle in ’63.

  “Being ill on your wedding day is a serious problem, don’t you think?” Hattie arched her thick eyebrows. “I should let your mother know.”

  “No need to make a fuss.”

  “But if you’re ill, you should postpone the ceremony.”

  Anna sighed. Hattie knew a lot about life for her sixteen years, but her mother had little in common with Anna’s. Bette Pemberton may be willing to postpone a wedding due to the jitters, but Mutter would have no such inclination. Mutter’s heart was set on this wedding, her mind made up. Anna regretted the day she’d mentioned Boney’s surprising proposal and her refusal.

  No, she couldn’t postpone the ceremony. The sitting room brimmed with guests. According to Hattie’s earlier report, Boney had spiffed up splendidly for the occasion. His boss, Garrett Cowlishaw, captain of the wagon caravan, stood with Boney and the pastor. And three of Boney’s fellow trail hands were part of the crowd who had come to see them wed. She couldn’t disappoint them. Most of all, she couldn’t disappoint Boney.

  Drawing in a deep breath, Anna released her grip on the bench and pressed the silk ribbon at her waist. “I’m feeling a bit nervous, is all.” She nearly laughed at the absurdity of her understatement. She was far more than a tad or a smidge nervous. She hadn’t expected to marry so soon after her eighteenth birthday. Ever, really. Not since Dedrick died, not now that she had to look after Mutter and Großvater.

  But marriage to Boney would give her a life apart from them. Somewhat, anyway.

  “Anna?” Hattie’s voice brought her back to reality. “You’re nervous about the ceremony?”

  Nervous about all of it. The wedding and the marriage. Nervous about the caravan of wagons that would take her and her family away from Saint Charles. She was six when Mutter moved them to the riverside Missouri town to live with Großvater. For twelve years, she’d called Saint Charles her home. Keeping her reservations to herself, Anna smoothed the lace collar on her dress.

  “If you’re having—”

  “I’ll be fine. I’m sure it’s customary for a bride-to-be to feel anxious.” Was she trying to reassure Hattie or herself? Anna couldn’t say with certainty.

  “Customary, yes, but to the point of becoming ill?” Hattie lifted the loose curl at Anna’s ear and returned to her task. “You and Boney have been good friends for many years.”

  Anna dipped her chin in a short nod. “Most of my way through school. The year before Boney left for the war, he played Joseph in the Christmas pageant, and I played Mary.”

  Hattie nodded, her hat brim bouncing again. “Friends, yes. But marriage, well, that’s a lifelong commitment.” She picked up the strands of hair she’d left hanging and began plaiting them.

  Marriage hadn’t been a lifelong commitment for Anna’s parents. When she was a girl, her father had walked away and never looked back. Anna worried the seam in her muslin dress. Her friendship with Boney was largely based on the past, before the war. He had been the closest friend of her brother, Dedrick.

  When Boney returned to Saint Charles a month ago with his condolences for the loss of her brother, she and Boney shared memories and commiserated over the damage the war had done. He witnessed its ill effects on her mother. In their subsequent visits, he said Anna deserved to have a better life, to be cared for instead of having to do all the caring. Then he up and proposed marriage.

  “Are you having second thoughts?” Hattie asked.

  Second thoughts? Third and fourth thoughts. She felt more like crawling under the bed than standing at Boney’s side in front of the pastor. And the cacophony of voices from the other side of the door did nothing to bring her peace. Still, she couldn’t change her mind now. Not with plans made and witnesses gathered. Not after the way she’d turned Boney down, then shown up at the men’s camp with a change of mind.

  Hattie tucked the tails of the loose braids into the chignon, then met Anna’s gaze in the mirror. “Boney’s return and proposal was a bit of a whirlwind. And this wedding is quite sudden.” She lifted an eyebrow. “Are you marrying Boney for love?”

  Swallowing the bitter lump in her throat, Anna nodded. Of course she loved Boney. Everyone did. What wasn’t to love about him? He was generous and lighthearted. A hard worker. Not only was he a trail hand for the caravan of wagons that would depart Saint Charles next week, but he’d been helping Großvater ready their wagon for the trip. And Boney had loved Dedrick as a brother.

  Anna’s breath caught. She loved Boney like a brother. Mutter’s prompting had influenced her, but it wasn’t what had persuaded her to change her mind and marry Boney. Dedrick. She’d been desperate to feel close to her brother. When she saw Boney standing in Großvater’s kitchen, she felt hope stir inside her. Boney helped her remember her brother.

  But was that enough reason for her to marry him?

  “Perhaps if you stood and rinsed your face.” Hattie glanced at the washstand in the corner.

  Anna nodded. Her thoughts had been untangled. It was time she did the same for her insides. It would feel good to stretch a bit. She walked to the wooden stand. While Hattie tipped the pitcher and poured water into the bowl, Anna pulled her washcloth from its peg.

  “Thank you.”

  Hattie returned the pitcher to the shelf. “I only wish there was more I could do to help you.”

  “You’ve helped more than you know.” More than Anna was ready to say. She still had a question to answer. Was having shared memories of her brother enough of a foundation on which to build a lifelong marriage?

  Anna plunged the cloth into the cold water, then wrung out the excess. She’d just pressed the cool refreshment to her face when the door clicked open. She peered over the top of the cloth as Mutter swept into the room, swaying and swerving toward the washstand. Had she been drinking with guests in the house? A wave of heat burned Anna’s neck.

  Dedrick may have been Anna’s motivation to accept Boney’s proposal, but Mutter had probably been his reason for asking. Boney thought he could save her from Mutter’s unquenchable grief.

  Hattie closed the door and joined them at the bowl. “I just finished Anna’s hair.”

  Mutter tugged at the wrinkled sleeves on her shirtwaist. “Anna, you’ve kept Mr. Hughes waiting long enough.” The stench of whiskey hung in the air between them, taunting Anna.

  Hattie sighed, her jaw tight. “Ma’am, Anna isn’t feeling well.”

  Again ignoring Hattie, Mutter took the washcloth from Anna and dropped it into the bowl. The splash spotted Anna’s pink skirt. “You’re excited, is all.”

  “But this is happening so fast,” Anna said. “I don’t—”

  “Nonsense.” Mutter yanked a towel from its peg and studied her. “You still look a little pale, but a brisk walk across the continent will cure that.” She pressed the towel into Anna’s hand. “Now dry your face and follow me.”

  It wasn’t how she looked that concerned Anna, but how she felt about this marriage. Feelings weren’t something Mutter cared to concern herself with.

  Anna fell into line behind Mutter, taking slow steps toward the door. The jitters were threatening to topple her when she felt Hattie’s hand on her arm.

  With one hand on the doorknob, Mutter grabbed Anna’s hand, pulling her arm from Hattie’s grip. “This isn’t the time for lollygagg
ing.”

  Caleb Reger watched the bride’s mother disappear through a side door. He stood beside a bookcase in the corner of the Gobens’ sitting room, formulating a list of other things he’d rather be doing. Should be doing. So far, he’d come up with fifteen—inspecting wagons, checking the dry goods store for supplies, studying Horn’s Overland Guide, washing his socks … One week from today, the Boone’s Lick Company of wagons would roll out of Saint Charles, headed west. He should’ve stayed back at camp with Isaac. He didn’t need to be here. It wasn’t as if the boss were getting hitched. But Garrett Cowlishaw and four of his five hands were here. And one of them was about to make a big mistake.

  A man didn’t take a job on a wagon train then get married right before the long, taxing journey. Boney Hughes had seemed so levelheaded until Miss Goben showed up at their camp last Friday. The poor fellow hadn’t been thinking clearly for days now. And neither was the boss, to be standing up for Boney in the ceremony. Made no sense at all.

  The two men stood in front of the hearth, deep in conversation. It wasn’t too late for Garrett to talk some sense into Boney. Caleb shook his head. His father would never have agreed to officiate the ceremony. Nor would Reverend Reger have conducted a wedding without a proper courtship and permission from the parents involved. Where he came from, folks didn’t marry inside a house. Weddings were sacred rites, deserving nothing less than the sanctity of God’s church. Nothing about this felt right.

  “You been to a wedding before?” Tiny scrubbed his smooth cheek with a hand the size of a grizzly claw.

  “My sister’s.”

  “They take long?”

  “They can. Especially if the bride’s fussy.”

  “Your sister, was she fussy?”

  Caleb shook his head. “Her ceremony was said and done in less than twenty minutes.” Caleb glanced toward the closed door where he presumed the bride was readying herself. Thus far, Miss Goben wasn’t quick about it. She had near to twelve folks, mostly men, stuffed into a room with seating for five. Among them were Otto Goben, the bride’s grandfather, Charles Pemberton, who had come with his sister, and Frank Marble, the other trail hand present. Three children crowded around Mrs. Brantenberg and a Mrs. Rafferty, who wasn’t going on the caravan.