.”
Tara flicked at the edges of the magazine as his voice trailed off. If she could convince Mr. Carpenter to accompany her, she wouldn’t have to worry about her reputation or her safety.
She cleared her throat. “While I understand your apprehension, I would love to go for a ride. I’ve always enjoyed exploring, and I wouldn’t go far.”
Mr. Carpenter pressed his lips together. “I just hate the idea of you out alone, but. . .”
Tara held her breath. A quick trip to town was one thing, barring another episode with a crazed gunman. Exploring the surrounding isolated farmland was different, and she knew it.
He tapped the newspaper against the wall. “I wouldn’t mind at all going with you, though we’d have to take the wagon. I’m not much for riding horseback these days.”
Tara glanced at his sleeping wife, remembering her words of caution, and wondered if she’d spoken out of turn. “I thought the wagon and your joints—”
“Don’t you worry about me. The missus does enough of that. And besides, I need to get out of the house every now and then. Keeps me young.”
Tara laughed. “Then I’ll fetch my shawl and parasol and meet you outside.”
Fifteen minutes later, they made their way up a grassy ridge. From this vantage point on the buckboard, Tara could see the surrounding landscape with its groves of oak trees and wildflowers nestled between cornfields that stretched as far as the eye could see. Sampson waved at them from the edge of one of the fields, his ever-present smile in place.
She waved back, then twirled her silk parasol between her fingers. “I hadn’t expected Iowa to be so beautiful.”
Mr. Carpenter nodded. “I agree with you now, but when Ginny and I first arrived, I wasn’t sure I’d stay. Life was harder back then.”
“Tell me about it.”
Mr. Carpenter pulled back on the reins and slowed the horses to an easy trot. “The surroundings were quite different from what we were used to back east. Timber was limited, so we had to find alternative materials for building our homes and for fuel and fencing. We used things like Osage orange hedges for fencing, and our first house was made of sod. And there were other concerns. Not only did we have to build our own homes and our furniture, we also had to watch for signs of fires that could wipe out everything we’d built. It was lonely, and sickness was prevalent.”
A frown covered the older man’s normally jovial expression. Tara pushed a strand of her hair out of her face, struck by the hard life this couple had faced. “What made you decide to stay?”
“Besides being too stubborn to admit defeat?” Mr. Carpenter shook his head and laughed. “Things eventually began to change. The soil is rich and fertile, and as the population grew, we found ourselves connected to people again.”
Tara couldn’t help but notice the irony in the situation. “While you were longing for contact with people, we often complain that the city is too full of people.”
“That, my dear, is one of the main reasons I left.” Mr. Carpenter stopped at the top of another rise, showing her the beauty of the prairie that extended for miles. “Any place in particular you’d like to go?”
“Yes, actually.” Tara paused, wondering how she should broach the subject. She didn’t want Mr. Carpenter to find out about her search for the gold, but she needed his help to find Mr. Martin’s farm. “I’ve been reading my aunt’s journal, and she mentions a man by the name of Richart Schlosser. Did you know him?”
“Schlosser.” Mr. Carpenter shook his head. “Can’t say that I do, though that doesn’t mean much. The railroad has brought scores of immigrants who have settled into the area.”
“I found out in town that Mr. Schlosser moved away about four years ago, and James Martin bought his farm.”
“Now there’s a name I recognize. Lost his wife last year and hasn’t ever been quite the same.”
Tara leaned forward. “Do
Tara flicked at the edges of the magazine as his voice trailed off. If she could convince Mr. Carpenter to accompany her, she wouldn’t have to worry about her reputation or her safety.
She cleared her throat. “While I understand your apprehension, I would love to go for a ride. I’ve always enjoyed exploring, and I wouldn’t go far.”
Mr. Carpenter pressed his lips together. “I just hate the idea of you out alone, but. . .”
Tara held her breath. A quick trip to town was one thing, barring another episode with a crazed gunman. Exploring the surrounding isolated farmland was different, and she knew it.
He tapped the newspaper against the wall. “I wouldn’t mind at all going with you, though we’d have to take the wagon. I’m not much for riding horseback these days.”
Tara glanced at his sleeping wife, remembering her words of caution, and wondered if she’d spoken out of turn. “I thought the wagon and your joints—”
“Don’t you worry about me. The missus does enough of that. And besides, I need to get out of the house every now and then. Keeps me young.”
Tara laughed. “Then I’ll fetch my shawl and parasol and meet you outside.”
Fifteen minutes later, they made their way up a grassy ridge. From this vantage point on the buckboard, Tara could see the surrounding landscape with its groves of oak trees and wildflowers nestled between cornfields that stretched as far as the eye could see. Sampson waved at them from the edge of one of the fields, his ever-present smile in place.
She waved back, then twirled her silk parasol between her fingers. “I hadn’t expected Iowa to be so beautiful.”
Mr. Carpenter nodded. “I agree with you now, but when Ginny and I first arrived, I wasn’t sure I’d stay. Life was harder back then.”
“Tell me about it.”
Mr. Carpenter pulled back on the reins and slowed the horses to an easy trot. “The surroundings were quite different from what we were used to back east. Timber was limited, so we had to find alternative materials for building our homes and for fuel and fencing. We used things like Osage orange hedges for fencing, and our first house was made of sod. And there were other concerns. Not only did we have to build our own homes and our furniture, we also had to watch for signs of fires that could wipe out everything we’d built. It was lonely, and sickness was prevalent.”
A frown covered the older man’s normally jovial expression. Tara pushed a strand of her hair out of her face, struck by the hard life this couple had faced. “What made you decide to stay?”
“Besides being too stubborn to admit defeat?” Mr. Carpenter shook his head and laughed. “Things eventually began to change. The soil is rich and fertile, and as the population grew, we found ourselves connected to people again.”
Tara couldn’t help but notice the irony in the situation. “While you were longing for contact with people, we often complain that the city is too full of people.”
“That, my dear, is one of the main reasons I left.” Mr. Carpenter stopped at the top of another rise, showing her the beauty of the prairie that extended for miles. “Any place in particular you’d like to go?”
“Yes, actually.” Tara paused, wondering how she should broach the subject. She didn’t want Mr. Carpenter to find out about her search for the gold, but she needed his help to find Mr. Martin’s farm. “I’ve been reading my aunt’s journal, and she mentions a man by the name of Richart Schlosser. Did you know him?”
“Schlosser.” Mr. Carpenter shook his head. “Can’t say that I do, though that doesn’t mean much. The railroad has brought scores of immigrants who have settled into the area.”
“I found out in town that Mr. Schlosser moved away about four years ago, and James Martin bought his farm.”
“Now there’s a name I recognize. Lost his wife last year and hasn’t ever been quite the same.”
Tara leaned forward. “Do
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