The Water Seeker

The Water Seeker

Amos Kincaid is the son of a dowser―a person gifted in knowing how to "find" water deep in the ground. As a young person, Amos doesn't reveal his gift to others; he's not sure he wants the burden. But through his experiences growing up and crossing the Oregon Trail, Amos learns about life's harsh realities, especially the pain in losing loved ones. As he cares for those around him, Amos comes to accept his dowsing fate. This epic novel is a fascinating period piece about the westward expansion and one man's destiny as he searches for love and family. “An absorbing, atmospheric epic of intertwined lives on America's western frontier.” ―Publishers Weekly, Starred “Drawing on such diverse themes as Manifest Destiny, personal identity and cross-cultural relationships, the author has crafted a satisfying all-ages story that hosts a dazzling array of richly realized secondary characters...and flows as effortlessly as the Platte River.” ―Kirkus Reviews, STARRED “Holt creates a moving, palpable sense of pioneer life in graceful prose that occasionally reads like poetry. And her memorable characters' stories raise powerful questions about how lives are shaped: by chance, skill, inherited gifts...and love that transcends generations and even mortality.” ―Booklist “Holt writes a vivid and beautiful story.” ―Voya Twenty three years ago Kimberly Willis Holt stopped talking about wanting to be a writer and started to pursue her dream. Because of her family's Louisiana roots she considers herself a southerner, but her father's military career took her to places beyond the South, including Paris and Guam. She's the author of more than fifteen books for a wide range of ages, many of which have won awards and honors. Her third novel, When Zachary Beaver Came to Town won the National Book Award for Young People's Literature. She writes and gardens in Texas. The Water Seeker By Kimberly Willis Holt Square Fish Copyright © 2012 Kimberly Willis Holt All right reserved. ISBN: 9781250004758 CHAPTER 1 BITTERSWEET CREEK 1833 JAKE WAS KNOWN as the dowser. With a forked branch, he’d made his way from the Arkansas Territory to Missouri, stopping at farms to find water for new wells. His plan was to raise enough money so he could do what he wanted and never pick up the branch again. But the dowsing was a gift. And a gift might be abandoned, but it will always be there, waiting to be claimed. One farmer didn’t have money, so he paid Jake by giving him a parcel of land with a cabin. Since winter was settling in, Jake decided to stay there until spring, when he’d take up trapping. His cabin sat a hundred steps from Bittersweet Creek and about a mile, as the eagle flew, from the Hurd place. When their oldest daughter, Delilah, showed up at his door, begging for a place to stay, he’d not been with a woman in a long time. Without thinking, he said, “Well, I reckon I could marry you.” A few months later, Jake went west to trap. He left each fall and returned in the summer after the trappers’ rendezvous. The life suited them. Delilah had a safe haven from her pa’s temper, and Jake had someone to come home to. And most satisfying to them both were the months of solitude that they craved. DELILAH STROLLED through the woods, thinking about how that day felt especially hot. Jake would be making his way from Green Valley, and when he arrived he’d expect a clean house and a hot meal. She hurried home to prepare for him. Anticipating Jake’s arrival always brought on dread and excitement. Every year, Jake traded for supplies with an artist who painted the mountain man’s way of life. Delilah looked forward to getting new paints, brushes, and paper. But she also loved her time alone in the woods. And the birds. She loved the birds. Delilah treasured walking among the pines and cypress trees. She’d grown to appreciate the smell of her own sweat and the way it mixed with the musky smells of the earth. Now she’d have to wash all that away. Jake’s return meant she’d have to bathe more often, keep house, and cook meals. From him, she’d learned how appearances deceived. Her pa, Eb, was a small man who looked as gentle as a cat, while Jake was stocky, barrel-chested, and furry like a bear. He could talk until the sun fell out of the sky, but Jake didn’t have a temper. To Delilah, listening to Jake drone on and on about his trappings was a good trade-off. A FEW DAYS later, Jake arrived. He grabbed hold of Delilah and pressed his lips against hers. When it seemed he’d never let go, she wiggled free and grabbed the leather satchel in search of the new paints and brushes. She moved so quickly that the bag dropped with a thump to the floor, causing a glass to crack. Staring down at it, she could clearly see her own reflection. “What’s that there?” Jake sighed and collapsed upon a chair. “A mirr-o. Was one.” She took off his boots and fed him a bowl of vegetable and bacon soup. Jake gulped down the broth in less time than it took to sneeze