The Gift of a Child

Sheriff Jensen again signaled for attention. “Here’s what I propose—that those living in town be alert to strangers and inform my office when anyone you don’t know rides into town. As for those of you living beyond town, instruct your hands to keep an eye out and be ready to notify your neighbors if you see something unusual. What we don’t want is folks going off half-cocked and creating trouble.”

A beefy, red-faced farmer jumped up. “So we’re not supposed to protect our property?”

“That’s not what I said,” the sheriff responded. “Caution is warranted, but take action only if you feel your property or family are imminently threatened. If at all possible, before you do anything, notify us.”

“Ride eight miles to you while some renegade roams my ranch?”

“Git off your haunches, Jensen, and git rid of these varmints!”

The cries from the audience were taking a toll on the sheriff, who was a better lawman than speaker. As the hubbub continued, Seth felt Caleb stiffen beside him and knew his brother was about to intervene. Sure enough, Caleb raised his hand and cut a swath toward the front of the room, much as he must have led a cavalry charge. He strode right up on the platform. Seth followed closely behind to support his brother. “Folks,” Caleb said in a commanding voice, “this is just the kind of mob reaction that’ll get us in trouble. Let’s back off and think about this.”

“The situation calls for a united approach,” Seth added.

Amid some grumbling, the men reluctantly took their seats, and Seth heard one say to his companion, “Might as well listen to the Montgomery boys. They generally make sense.”

When the group calmed down, Caleb continued. “We all know Lars Jensen is a conscientious sheriff. Nothing has happened here to cause us to mount some aimless posse. Be reasonable. Many of you have been residents of Chase County for several years or more.”

Seth picked up the thread. “Haven’t we been satisfied with our law enforcement? Lately we’ve had one incident. No physical harm was done, and the guilty party didn’t loiter in these parts, I suspect because we have a no-nonsense sheriff. Now, then, let’s do as Jensen advises. Be watchful, notify him of any concerns and do our best to protect our womenfolk and children from rascals, but also from baseless fears.”

The meeting closed with general agreement and a few apologies to the sheriff.

Afterward, as Seth and Caleb rode side by side toward home, Seth thought about Caleb’s leadership. Although his military service had resulted in horrific experiences, it had also matured his younger brother. When their paths diverged, Seth gave voice to his observations. “Caleb, you did a good thing back there. We don’t need mob thinking.”

At first, he thought Caleb hadn’t heard him, but then his brother answered him in a grim voice. “No, we don’t. I’ve seen what a mob can do. Nothing uglier.” He flipped the reins to steer his mount to the right. “Good night, Seth.” Then he trotted off, without a backward glance.

Seth watched his brother until he was out of sight. There was much he didn’t know about what Caleb had endured during his military career. It was painful to remember the eighteen-year-old who had ridden off to war with the enthusiastic patriotism and naïveté of youth. Seth continued to feel guilty that he had not joined the conflict, but his role at the family gristmill in Missouri had been critical.

Supplying the troops was a form of service, too, but it had spared him from the brutality and bloodshed in which his brother had, perforce, been engaged. The wonder was that Caleb still had his feet so firmly planted on the ground.

Although Caleb had told him few details of his army experiences, from things Lily had said, Seth believed his brother had spoken more openly with her and that such confidences, coupled with Lily’s understanding, had been redemptive.

The setting sun lighted the trail back to the ranch. In a way, he envied the closeness of Lily and Caleb. It seemed they could talk about anything. They must have deep trust in one another, he reflected. He himself wasn’t much of a talker. Would there ever be a woman in whom he might confide his guilt concerning the war? His concern for Sophie? His sorrow at the death of his mother?

Not likely.

He was almost home before a sudden recollection speared his defenses. Rose Kellogg. A week ago Sunday. He’d talked with her about Sophie...about his mother, hadn’t he? Why her? He shook his head in bewilderment and spurred his horse. Such confessions made him feel exposed. Weak. It wouldn’t happen again.

Settling comfortably in the saddle, he studied the rolling hills, veiled in twilight shadows. He didn’t know what it was about the land but it awakened deep feelings in him, probably born of his boyhood on their Missouri farm. From the blossoms of spring to the berries of summer to the tart apples of autumn, the place had been his kingdom. He and Caleb helped with whatever chores small boys could perform, then fished in the river, rode their ponies or aimed slingshots at hapless birds. A long time ago. Before the War Between the States. Years before they moved west to start the ranch.

Boyhood freedoms were one thing. It was more difficult to think about the time his mother died.... Baby Sophie. By all rights, he should have hated her. She’d taken his mother. But Pa never saw it that way. He’d gathered Caleb and him around the crib the day after their mother’s funeral. “Boys,” he’d said in a choked voice, “your mama is gone, but she left us this gift from God.”

After that, there was never any question. Anybody who remotely threatened their sister met Caleb and Seth’s wrath. But that didn’t happen often. Sophie was too loveable. She’d never in her life met anyone that didn’t interest her. Seth groaned. Charlie Devane. A talented construction man, courteous with a ready laugh. Why did thinking about the fellow cause him to grind his teeth? Even if he didn’t want to admit it, he knew, of course. Sophie liked Charlie. Really liked him. Seth always thought of her as his little sister, but she was of age. She could marry.

He was stabbed by a pang of loneliness. Home without Sophie would be like sunshine blotted out by clouds. He didn’t want to think about it. He wouldn’t. Instead, he would focus on...the cattle herd. Calves. There. That was a safe topic. Something over which he could exercise some measure of control.

Yet to his chagrin, cattle didn’t fill his mind at all. Instead, his thoughts once more turned to Rose Kellogg, to the blush suffusing her face when he complimented her cooking.

Rose. A safer topic than Sophie, for sure. Wasn’t it?

* * *

What with the rain on Monday, followed by wash day, it was Thursday before Rose, Alf and her father could manage the drive to Lily’s. At the previous night’s meeting, Caleb had told Ezra about a hired hand with a nasty lingering cough, so the trip had a twofold purpose—to offer medical advice and to plan with Lily for Lavinia’s upcoming visit.

Lavinia and Henry Dupree had treated Lily to fine dresses, elegant social activities and the cultural outings for which she had longed. At one point Rose had feared she would lose her sister to the charms not only of metropolitan life but to the courtship of wealthy Lionel Atwood. Only later had Rose learned that Lionel, aghast at Lily’s rushing to the aid of a former slave who had been run over on the street, had spurned her, accusing Lily of publicly humiliating him. Rose sniffed. Good riddance.

She herself barely remembered Lavinia Dupree. Only once could she remember her aunt visiting her mother’s parents and the Kelloggs in Iowa. A girl of about twelve at the time, she remembered being told to be on her best behavior and speak only when spoken to. She recalled her mother talking about Lavinia’s wealthy husband and elegant home, seeming wistful about the divergence of their paths.

It was nearly noon when the buggy crested the hill behind Lily’s home. Breathing in the fresh spring air and reveling in the miles of prairie grass dancing in the breeze, Rose thanked God once again for bringing her and Papa here to reunite with Lily and her family. And now, Alf completed the circle. “Bird!” Alf squirmed in her lap and pointed to a fence post where a hawk surveyed the countryside.

“That’s right. A bird. His name is Mr. Hawk.”

Alf turned to her with a puzzled look. “Mister? He’s not a man.”

Ezra chuckled. “Smart, that boy.”

Rose joined in the laughter. “You’re right, Alf. I suppose his name is just ‘hawk.’”

“Hawk.” Alf nodded several times as if to fix the information in his brain. “Bird,” he said in summary.

As they approached the barnyard, Lily walked toward them holding Mattie, scattering the chickens pecking in the dirt. “What a treat! We’re so glad to see you.”

Ezra helped Rose and Alf to the ground, then embraced Lily. “I’ll be back after I check on Caleb’s patient. Is the fellow in the bunkhouse?”

“Yes. Caleb is with him. I fear he is worse this morning.”

Mattie wriggled out of her mother’s arms and ran to embrace Alf. “Brudder. I see you.”

The adults smiled indulgently. No amount of correcting Mattie about the meaning of brother had changed her response to Alf.

Alf backed off, eyed the little girl and then pointed to her dress. “Blue,” he said proudly. “Blue shirt.”

Mattie looked down as if she had never noticed her frock. “Dress, Alfie, dress,” she corrected. “Blue dress.”

“Lemonade, anyone?” Lily gathered the children and led them into the kitchen. Rose took a lingering look at the neat, fenced yard, the large vegetable garden and sturdy stone dwelling. Lily was blessed by her surroundings.

Inside, Rose settled at the table while Lily produced a doll and a few tin soldiers for the children, who were soon lost in a world of make-believe.

“At last night’s meeting, I presume Papa told Caleb about Aunt Lavinia’s upcoming visit.”

“Yes, I can’t wait to talk about it. Truth to tell, I’m completely flummoxed by the news. It’s so out of character for her. I know she must miss Uncle Henry, but she thrives on the fashions and social events she can find only in a city. The picture of her out here on the frontier both worries me and makes me chuckle. The very idea of Lavinia Dupree wearing a homespun dress!”

Rose mustered a wan smile before speaking. “She has rented a house and is bringing her maid.”

“So she’ll be quite near you and Papa.”

“That’s exactly what I’m afraid of. I have no idea how to talk with her. My experience is so limited.” Then Rose moved to the crux of the matter. “And what if she’s horrified by the idea of my taking in Alf?”

Seeing her sister’s distress, Lily leaned closer and covered Rose’s hand with her own. “I’ll be the first to admit that Aunt Lavinia can appear imposing and judgmental. Yet, in many ways, I think you may find her demeanor a mask concealing a generosity of spirit.”

“I hope you’re right. Perhaps I’m overprotective of Alf?”

“As you certainly should be. As we all are where our children are concerned. Alf is doing well, isn’t he?”

Rose smiled, warming to the topic of her boy and his progress with speech and the clear evidence of his intelligence. “His sores and bruises have healed under Papa’s care and every day he comes out of his shell a bit more.”

“I can see that.” Lily nodded to the corner of the room where Mattie and Alf were acting out some playlet of their own devising.

Just then, Ezra entered the kitchen and moved to the pump to wash his hands. His expression was grim.

“Papa?” Lily said by way of inquiry.

“Your man has pneumonia. If he responds to treatment, he has a chance. I’ve given Caleb instructions. Only time will tell.”

Lily stood up and moved to the larder. “I’ve made some cornbread and have beans to warm up for a meal before you return to town.”

Over lunch, Ezra recalled some memories of Lavinia and underscored Lily’s urging of patience. “We mustn’t for a moment forget,” he said, “that regardless of the situation, the woman is grieving. Both the lifelong relationship, whatever it may have been, and her position in St. Louis society. We cannot know exactly what impulse has led her to Chase County, but we are her only family and we will welcome her.”

On the way back to town, Alf drowsed in Rose’s lap, and Papa seemed miles away, perhaps concerned with a patient or lost in memories of Mama and Lavinia. Rose’s eyes were drooping when she was brought to awareness by the sound of horses approaching. A jolt of fear wound through her as she remembered what Papa had said about the men’s meeting the night before. Beside her, Ezra sat up straight and, shading his eyes, squinted at the road ahead. Finally he sighed in relief. “It’s Sophie and Seth.”

Sure enough, racing toward them were the brother and sister, initially oblivious to the buggy. Then Seth wheeled his horse and held up his hand to halt Sophie. The pair trotted slowly toward the buggy. “Sorry for alarming you,” Seth said, doffing his hat.

Sophie grinned. “Me, too. It’s just as well, though, because Seth was winning our race.” She swatted her hat at her brother.

Rose studied Sophie, confident and comfortable in her unconventional riding skirt and dust-covered boots. Watching the two riders so at ease with one another, Rose had greater appreciation for Seth’s concern about Sophie’s ultimate departure from the ranch.

The cessation of buggy movement roused Alf. “Sett!” He stood up and held out his arms.

“Ready for a horseback ride, Alf?” Seth spurred his horse to the side of the buggy and glanced quizzically at Rose, as if asking for permission. She nodded.

Seth plucked Alf out of the buggy and settled the boy in front of him. “Horse! Horse!” Alf waved delightedly to Ezra and Rose. “Brown, white,” he crowed. He patted Seth’s leg and then stroked the horse’s neck. “Big. Sett big. Horse big.”

Unaccountably, Rose blinked back tears. Her boy looked so happy, and Seth held him as if he were a bundle of gold.

Sophie pulled her mount alongside Seth’s. “Are you ready, Alf? It’s gallop-a-gallop time.” She winked at Rose and trotted ahead of Seth and Alf. When Seth followed, Alf’s delighted giggle filled the growing distance to the buggy.

Grinning, Ezra patted Rose’s leg. “We’d best follow. I doubt Seth and Sophie are planning to go clear into town. Nice of them to give Alf a ride, though.”

“We’ll probably never hear the end of it.”

“Right. ‘Big. Brown. White. Horse.’”

Rose nodded, silently filling in another of Alf’s new words, a word that was becoming increasingly important to her, as well. Sett. She drew herself up short. It was nonsense to dwell on such foolish notions and risk jeopardizing a perfectly good friendship.

Chapter Five

Seth relinquished Alf into Rose’s care, and he and Sophie turned for home, trotting side by side. Seth could tell his sister was itching to say something, and the urge finally got the best of her. “Well, now, brother dear, what was that all about?”

Seth pulled his hat down over his eyes, determined to avoid his sister’s knowing smirk. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Balderdash. You’re quite attached to that little fellow. And he to you.”

“So?”

“You’ll have to be careful not to let him down. In his young life, he’s probably had more than his share of disappointments.” She waited, as if permitting him the opportunity to think about his role. “To prevent that from happening, you’ll have to spend a good deal of time with him.”

He knew what she was going to say before she said it, and sure enough, the next words out of Sophie’s mouth were “and with Rose.”

He grimaced. The situation was a double-edged sword. On the one hand, Sophie was right. He was attached to Alf. He liked the boy. But if he was honest, he also liked Rose and found himself thinking about her way too often. To put an end to Sophie’s probing, he responded, “I’ll spend time with them when it suits my convenience, but I won’t be making any special trips to town.”

Sophie shot him a skeptical look but had the grace to keep her mouth shut the rest of the way back to the ranch.

The silence, instead of comforting him, was unnerving, especially since now, as if the power of suggestion held sway over him, all he could think about was Rose. She was a good woman in every way. He liked talking to her and watching her being such a caring mother for Alf. He squelched the longing rising deep in his chest. He so wanted to be someone’s father, but he’d long ago decided he couldn’t do that to himself or to some innocent woman, no matter how much he loved her. He’d watched his own mother die giving birth. He’d witnessed his father crumple at her bedside, wailing out his pain.

Marriage was serious business and it didn’t always end happily. Oh, he entertained fantasies about having the kind of union Caleb and Lily had, but fate was capricious. There were no guarantees. It was cleaner, simpler to live the bachelor life, enjoying other people’s children without any of the responsibility. That way he could be at peace with the God he often questioned and avoid causing pain for others.

Seth saw his father waiting for them at the barn. After they’d stabled their horses, Sophie hurried into the house to begin dinner preparations, but Andrew laid a hand on Seth’s shoulder. After discussing the herd and the upcoming banknote due date, his father came to the point. “You’re mighty fond of that little Alf.” When Seth merely nodded, his father went on. “Children take to you. Have you thought about settling down, getting married?”

Seth groaned, suspecting his father and sister had been discussing his single state, and that they were in cahoots. “Yep. I reckon it’s not for me.”

There was no escaping his father’s steely gaze. “Why not?”

Seth struggled for words, then simply shrugged.

“It’s because of your mother.”

Seth swallowed, unable to speak.

His father planted his hands on his son’s knees. “Look at me. I know what you’re thinking. You were there that night. You saw something no small boy should ever witness.” Andrew heaved a deep sigh. “It was horrible and made no sense, but sometimes bad things just happen. Whatever you may think, though, God didn’t fail us. He sent us beautiful Sophie.” He leaned back then, folding his arms across his chest. “I don’t know much, son, but I know this. Love is worth the risk. You’ve always shied away from that risk.”

Stunned, Seth realized this was more truth from his father than he’d ever heard. “I don’t want to hurt anybody,” he said.

“Can’t promise that, Seth.”

Maybe if he weren’t so methodical, dissecting everything. If he could ever, just once, be passionate about a woman, then...but that was foolishness. He had no idea even how to court one. “It’s just who I am, Pa.”

His father stood up and pulled his pipe out of his shirt pocket. “Maybe, maybe not. Be open, son. God has great things in store for you.” Andrew struck a match on his boot, then puffed on his pipe, the savory tobacco aroma filling the air.

Seth wanted to believe his father, but it was difficult. “Best get washed up,” he said, then walked toward the house, all the while sensing his father’s eyes on his back.

* * *

Friday was baking day and after wiping down the table, Rose stood back in satisfaction, inhaling the yeasty smell of bread and surveying the pastries in the pie safe. Alf sat contentedly munching on a warm slice lathered with apple butter and sprinkled with cinnamon. Rose placed her hands in the small of her aching back and stretched, then took off her flour-dusted apron and turned to Alf. “How about a walk around town?”

He clapped his sticky hands. “See some horses?”

Rose laughed. “Yes, indeed, but first finish your bread so you can wash up.”

The boy took another big bite and looked at her with sparkling eyes. After he’d finished, she washed his hands and face, and they set off down the street. For Alf, exercise was not the point of their excursion—it was discovery. First he hunkered to examine a woolly caterpillar, then skipped on down the street to pluck a dandelion from a neighbor’s lawn. “Here, Rose. I give you a posy.” Rose smiled, knowing no exotic orchid would ever be as beautiful.

Along the way they stopped to visit with several friends. But spotting Sheriff Jensen striding toward them, Rose stepped into his path and with trepidation asked the question looming over her every thought. “Any news concerning Alf?”

He removed his hat and with a slight bow said, “Nothing yet. Sorry.”

After they parted, Rose sighed with no small amount of guilt, grateful that the lack of news ensured her continued care of Alf.

Later, at the corner of Broadway, Bertha Britten approached, her black hat perched just so on her massed hair, one spindly arm hooked into the handle of a shopping basket. Head down, as if on an important mission, she nearly ran into them. “Bertha, good afternoon.”

The woman stopped dead in her tracks and stared at Rose. “I’m sorry. I don’t have time to palaver. I’m in a hurry.”

Alf tugged on Rose’s skirt, “I seed this lady before.”

“Yes, in church. Bertha, you remember my Alf.”

Inexplicably, Bertha’s face turned red. “Of course, I remember, but I hardly think he’s ‘your’ Alf. Why, you’re not even married.” She hoisted her basket in front of her chest like a shield. “Now, excuse me, but I have other things to do.” She brushed past them, tsking as she went.

Rose sagged against a hitching post. Alf sneezed, then tugged on her arm. “That’s a mean lady. C’mon. Get away.” When Rose looked down, his little face was one big frown. She took a handkerchief from her pocket and wiped his nose.

“She could have been nicer, but we’re not going to let her ruin our day, are we? Look over there.” She pointed to the livery stable where two horses were just being saddled.

“Horses!” He broke away from her. “Sett!”

“Oh, no, honey. Those horses are for other men. Seth is working at the ranch.”

His eyes widened in disappointment. “Far away?”

“Yes, but you’ll see him Sunday at church.”

“Sunday. Sett. Good.” He swung her hand back and forth as he led her to study the horses. “Big horse. Brown. Little one. Gray.” He stared at the horseflesh with all the interest of a livestock broker.

Finally Rose succeeded in dragging him away, but not before he’d sneezed several times. Dust from the livery, no doubt. She wanted to go by the nearly completed courthouse, which loomed impressively above the prairie. Just then, though, in the shadow of a basement door overhang, she noticed a couple, oblivious to the world, entwined in an embrace.

Rose stopped in her tracks, aware of a strange tingling in her chest. Once she had known such stolen moments, had felt whiskers caress her face and had melted through and through as warm lips sought hers. What a fool she had been, actually picturing herself swept into the dashing sergeant’s arms and carried off to a future of loving nights, of babies, of actually daring to think of herself as desirable. And maybe he had cared for her. More likely, not. Loneliness can make a man do strange things.

She would never forget her humiliation that day at Fort Larned when she had wandered into the sutler’s just at mail call and seen one of the officers waving a letter and calling out, “Hey, Sarge, lucky you. Here’s a letter from your wife.”

Men. Strange creatures. Not to be trusted. That had been the lesson of that black afternoon. Never again would she put herself in the situation of appearing so foolish, so gullible.

Alf pulled her out of her fog. “I’m gonna go see that lady.”

Still lost in the past, Rose was puzzled. “Go see who?”

“Horse lady.” Alf wrenched away from her grasp and darted across the still barren courthouse lawn. “There!”

Rose scurried after him, but then stopped as the embracing couple broke apart. Horse lady, of course. Sophie. Slowly Rose started forward. Alf flung himself into Sophie’s arms, while Charlie Devane stepped back and swiped a hand through his hair, as if composing himself.