Chapter 20
Jem took a step back as Leland settled a hand at Theda's waist and guided her into the dance. He told himself to look away. He couldn’t. It was as if he were watching the worst possible outcome of his life, but he just couldn't help but watch it unfold because he had to know what happened.
The music continued around them. The fiddle sang through another lively verse while couples spun across the hard-packed earth. Children darted around the edges of the firelight, shrieking with laughter. Someone near the cookfires dropped a pot lid and earned a round of teasing.
Jem heard almost none of it. His attention kept returning to Theda. Leland danced well. That irritated him.
The man moved with easy confidence, guiding her through turns and steps. It didn’t matter that he had also done well at the steps. He kept thinking about Theda. Was she enjoying her dance with Leland? Why did he care?
You can't have someone like her.
The thought welled up without warning. Theda smiled politely when Leland spoke.
Somehow, the way she would smile at him felt different, looked different.
Or perhaps he just imagined it that way.
Jem had worked his way to the outer circle of the activities, watching from the outside in. Why did that feeling seem familiar?
Declan, the man who had defended him that morning, walked up beside him, a cup of steaming coffee in his hand. He looked not much older than himself.
"You look miserable,” he said in a low tone.
Jem glanced over. "I do not."
Declan barked a laugh. " You look like somebody just shot your dog."
Jem looked back toward the dancers.
Theda was saying something to Leland now.
Her expression was pleasant enough, but every so often her gaze drifted elsewhere.
Each time, she caught herself and looked away.
The tightness in his chest eased slightly.
Not much, though, he wanted her to look at him, to see him, see how much he wanted to be the one dancing with her. The thought surprised him.
Declan followed his line of sight.
"Oh."
Jem immediately regretted waiting around for someone to join him. Perhaps he should have left altogether and avoided the whole thing.
"Oh?" he repeated.
"That's kind of miserable." Declan shrugged.
Jem ignored him. The song carried on. Phineas played beautifully on the fiddle, bringing the clearing alive.
Leland spun Theda gently beneath his arm. Firelight flashed across her face as she turned. Loose strands of hair had escaped near her temples during the dance, and she brushed one behind her ear as she laughed at something Leland said.
The sight stole the breath from Jem's lungs. Not because she was laughing. Theda laughed differently when she forgot herself. She'd done it with him only minutes ago. Without meaning to, he smiled.
The song finally began to wind down.
Relief came so quickly that it was embarrassing. Leland bowed his head slightly as the music ended. Theda thanked him.
Then, before the next tune had fully begun, she turned. And walked straight toward Jem. The knot in his chest unraveled all at once.
Declan made an obnoxious sound beside him.
Jem ignored that, too. He was too busy watching Theda come back. He didn't know if he'd ever dreamed of love in his past life, before boxing all his memories. He wondered if he would ever know the answer. Theda started up a conversation with Della, who was sitting right near him.
Every once in a while, she'd turn to him and include him. But Jem's head was elsewhere. All he could think of was of Leland with his hand on Theda's waist. He couldn't help but feel like there could be something there. The most confusing part was how he could deal with any of it? He wasn't sure.
---*---
Jem avoided Theda in the morning.
He told himself it was not deliberate; there was always work before the company moved out, always something that needed doing before the order came down to roll.
He helped re-pin a wheel on the Hartley wagon, checked the hitch on two others, and spent a quarter hour with one of the oxen that had been favoring its left foreleg. All of it needed doing. None of it required him to stay away from a particular corner of camp.
He stayed away anyway.
The thing he had felt watching Leland take her hand was not a feeling he had a clean name for. Large was the only word that fit. It had sat in his chest for the rest of the evening, even when she'd come back and settled beside him.
Leland danced like a man who knew exactly who he was. Like a man whose name fit him without gaps in it. Theda deserved that. She deserved someone whose past was visible all the way back to the beginning, who could answer a simple question about himself without going quiet.
What could he offer her? He had no idea where he'd come from. What if he were a bad person? The fear was taking root stronger, day by day. The dreams at night grew worse with every night that passed. Every time he woke up, he was terrified of finding out what his dreams hid.
Someone like Theda, who was beautiful and kind and loving, wouldn't be able to love someone who was a monster. The more that Jem saw bits and pieces of what he assumed were memories, the more convinced he was that perhaps there was a monster hiding inside of him.
Instead of taking the time to consider it and deal with it, Jem threw himself into his work. He spent extra care on every job he was given and went out of his way to find more jobs to do.
Two hours after the company moved out, the pass came into view, a narrow corridor of rock cutting between two hills that were steep enough to require care and low enough that the wagons could manage it single file.
Phineas sent the three of them ahead before the company reached the mouth of it. Leland rode in front. Oren fell in beside Jem without being asked, quiet for once, watching the ridgeline the way Jem had told him to watch ridgelines two weeks ago. The boy was learning.
The passage was maybe a half mile through. . He noted the footing , loose shale in the second narrowing, softer ground near a bend in the middle where a thin trickle of water crossed the track. Places where a wheel could slip or a team could balk.
He was making his second pass at the shale when he saw the tracks.
He pulled up. Dismounted without a word. Crouched at the edge of the trail where the ground softened beside a flat-faced boulder. Someone had been through there. Perhaps a couple of other travelers who were there earlier?
"What is it?" Oren asked.
"Riders." Jem studied the impressions. Multiple horses.
Shod, not wild. The edges of the prints were dry and clean but not crumbled.
More recent than he would have liked. He stood and followed the line of them to where they broke off the trail, and found the fire ring tucked behind the boulder, out of sightline from either end of the pass.
Leland had come back without Jem hearing him. He stood at his shoulder, looking at the same things Jem was looking at.
"Could be hunters," Orem said.
Jem picked up one of the casings and turned it over. "Could be." He looked at the fire ring again. Set away from the trail. No game scraps, no bones, nothing butchered nearby. "Hunters usually make camp where they work, not where they can watch who's passing."
Leland crouched beside the tracks. He didn't speak for a moment. He pressed two fingers to the edge of one print and studied the result, then looked up the length of the pass toward the far opening.
"They were here for a while," Leland said. He stood. "You're right. That's not hunters."
Uneasiness rushed through Jem. He couldn't place it, but it was a feeling he was starting to have more and more often. He’d thought of telling Theda but didn’t want to worry her.
Leland had already turned back toward the horses.
They reported it to Phineas at the mouth of the pass. He listened to all of it—the tracks, the fire ring, the casings, the position, without interrupting. When Jem finished, Phineas looked at Leland.
"He's got it right," Leland said.
Jem couldn't help but notice the begrudging way he said it. In a way, he had a lot in common with Leland. He couldn't imagine it had been easy for Leland to watch him with Theda dancing the night before, either.
Phineas nodded slowly. He looked through the passage as if he could see past the far end of it.
"There's no indication of the riders now, but we'll have to be careful. Split up, a few in front, a few behind. We go through. Single file, moving. I want two riders on the ridgeline if the slope allows it." He paused. "And we add a watch tonight."
Jem and Leland exchanged glances. It could be a dangerous day, or an uneventful one. It was hard to tell on a wagon train. Jem and Leland discussed the details, then got everyone started to cross the pass.
Jem found himself doing something he’d seen Theda do often. He bowed his head and prayed that God would help them across.
---*---
Jem nearly laughed with relief when the last wagon made it across the pass without incident.
He was starting to fear that people’s worst assumptions were true.
Whenever he heard a rumor of trouble, he was terrified he’d find out that the trouble could be someone from his past, and that he’d be one of them.
He swallowed hard and quickened his pace. He found Phineas alone near the end of the line while the camp was still being made a short distance from the pass. He kept his voice down.
"Can I talk to you about something?” he asked Phineas.
“Of course.” Phineas looked him up and down. “Though if it is about my sister, I’m afraid you’re out of luck. She makes it clear she doesn't like me intervening in her relationships.”
Phineas looked at him.
“While we were crossing the pass, I noticed Tolliver. He was so…well, more interested in talking with everyone. It’s not the first time I’ve overheard him asking detailed questions.” Jem frowned. He was probably overreacting.
Phineas held his gaze. "I hear you," he said, which was not the same as agreeing, and they both knew it. “We’ll keep an eye on him, but I think the man is just friendly and starved for someone to share a conversation with.”
Jem nodded, though he wasn't so sure. There was something about Toliver, something he wished he could remember. Maybe it would come to him in one of his dreams. He certainly hoped so, because he couldn't shake the feeling that Toliver was bad news.
That night, when the dreams started, Jem knew he was trapped in his nightmare.
The road stretched pale beneath the moonlight.
Jem stood on a rise overlooking it, the dry grass whispering around his boots as the wind moved through the hills. Everything felt distant somehow, muffled, as though the night itself was holding its breath.
Below him, a wagon sat stopped in the middle of the road. One lantern hung from the driver's seat, swaying gently. Three men moved around it.
Jem knew them. Familiarity without names.
One man stood at the horses, murmuring low as he checked the harness. Another worked through a stack of wooden boxes beside the wagon. The third had climbed into the wagon bed and was pulling supplies from beneath the canvas cover.
They moved quickly. Jem watched them.
The moonlight silvered their shoulders and caught the edges of their coats. Somewhere nearby, a horse stamped a hoof.
Then he heard it. The strained, uneven breath of someone trying desperately not to make any sound at all.
Jem's fingers tightened around the reins in his hand. The reins were wrapped twice around his fist. A muffled breath, a faint scrape, someone was inside the wagon.
Move.
The thought echoed through him.
But no matter how he tried, he couldn't move. His body felt like lead.
"You're weak. You'll never do what you need to for this family, do you hear me, brother?" The man was back, his angry gray eyes stormy and furious.
Wake up.
Jem urged himself.
Someone was calling for help. A woman.
“Theda?” He couldn’t see her. She was there. He could hear her. He had to help her, to do something to be there for her. But he couldn’t get himself to do anything. It was like he could feel it all, see it all, but do nothing about it.
He turned toward the wagon, just in the distance. The back opened, and he saw the hem of a woman's dress, but he couldn't make out her face. She screamed again.
Jem! Help me!”
“I can’t,” he whispered. “I can’t help anyone. I’m too weak to stop it from happening.”
"Come on, brother, won't you do something?" The man taunted.
Jem clenched his teeth. He had to help; he had to do something…
Jem sat straight up under the night sky, breathing deep in from the fear coursing through him, left over from the dream. He touched his forehead, and it was slick with sweat. He managed to take a few more calming breaths.
He lay back down on his back and looked at the sky. The stars were thick and very still. Somewhere across camp, a horse shifted and went quiet. He liked sleeping outside; it gave him a nice view at night, and he could tell where Theda was.
He turned his head.
A lantern burned low outside Theda's wagon. It was a good way away from where he was sleeping, but he still found comfort in it. She sometimes left it when she'd been reading late. He had noticed that, without meaning to, he noticed most things about her without deciding to.
He looked at it for a long time.
He did not move. He was not going to cross the camp in the dark and wake her because a nightmare had shaken him. He kept looking at the lantern.
Is she still awake?
The lantern blinked out, leaving him in darkness once more. He wished he could talk to Theda, to tell her what he was feeling about his dream, but instead, he swallowed it down, promising himself he’d do it the next day.
He pulled his blanket up, turned his face away from the light, and closed his eyes, and after a long time, he managed to start forgetting his nightmare. But something he couldn't forget was the feeling of helplessness and the man mocking him.
He shuddered.
How was he supposed to prove to everyone that he was a good man when he was starting to doubt himself? Who was he? How could he choose to be better? What hadn't he been able to stop in his dream?
It’s just a dream, not a memory.
And yet, he wasn't so convinced anymore that that was the case.