by Mills, DiAnn
“Move back slowly,” Gabe said to the boys. “Keep your eyes on those wolves, and do not panic.” He fired another shot.
The animals watched Caleb and Simon’s retreat, then turned and chased after the other lone wolf, disappearing into the scenery. Gabe studied the two he’d shot to make sure he’d killed them. One moved, and he sent a bullet into its skull.
“Thank You, Lord,” Lena uttered.
Gabe heard her soft weeping and longed to comfort her, but she needed to embrace her sons and feel their young bodies safe and secure.
Simon and Caleb didn’t show the emotion Gabe felt, but youth had a way of bouncing back after adversity. Once Lena had hugged them until they complained, Gabe dropped to one knee and wrapped his arms around them both. Tears filled his eyes, and he didn’t strive to disguise them.
“I ain’t, I mean I’m not calling you Gabe anymore,” Simon said. “You’re my pa, now.”
Joy beyond Gabe’s comprehension filled his very soul. I never thought I’d be good enough. Thank You.
“Some good shooting,” Caleb said, staring at the dead wolves. “I don’t think I’ll ever forget today for as long as I live.”
Tears coursed down Lena’s cheeks. Gabe caught her gaze and her whispered words of gratitude. “Praise God for you, Gabe Hunters, and I bless the day you made me your wife.”
He stared speechless, a rarity for him. Finally, he choked back a lump in his throat. “I think we can visit the schoolhouse another time,” he said with a sniff. “I’d like to skin those animals—if one of you can tell me how—for new hats and mittens for you boys. Let’s tend to it and move toward home. I’m in the mood for a snowball fight.” He hoisted the rifle onto his shoulder and tossed a smile in Lena’s direction.
Simon grabbed his free hand. “You might not know a lot of things, Gabe. I mean, Pa. But you stopped them wolves from eating me, and the other things don’t matter.”
Gabe couldn’t reply for the overwhelming emotion assault-ing him. He’d gone countless years without shedding tears, but today he’d made up for lost time.
“Listen to me, boys, while it’s this cold and those wolves are venturing close, you won’t be delivering any milk without me along, and I don’t want you wandering far from home,” he said.
“Yes, Sir,” Caleb said with a smile. “Do you suppose you might teach me how to shoot, Pa?”
❧
Gabe slept by the fireplace that night. Once Simon cried out with a bad dream, and Lena crawled into bed with him. Gabe surmised she needed her arms around the boy as badly as Simon needed the affections of his mother.
Unable to sleep, Gabe rose early to milk and feed the animals. He felt a new confidence about his role in the family—a position he’d desperately craved but certainly hadn’t wanted at the expense of yesterday’s ordeal.
Today, he’d approach Dagget Shafer. Hopefully the man wasn’t as formidable as the wolves.
“I don’t have a good feeling about this,” Lena said, as Gabe lifted the pail of milk into the wagon. “Dagget has no respect for anyone, including himself.”
“A friend might redirect him. Does he claim to be a Christian man?”
“Gabe, he refused to attend his wife’s funeral because it took him away from his farm.” A torch flared in her eyes. “He treats those children horribly.”
And he wanted you to marry him? “I’m pleased you decided to accept my proposal instead of his, even if you had to run him off with a pitchfork.” He chuckled, knowing the teasing would ease her trepidation.
She lifted a brow. “And how did you know about that?”
Gabe leaned over the side of the wagon and smiled into the face of this woman, this woman who had touched his heart like no one had before. “I’m having difficulty remembering. Perhaps it was the unsigned notice I received in Philadelphia warning me about your temper, or possibly the animals during those nights I slept in the barn—”
“Or Caleb and Simon,” she interrupted. Covering her mouth, she shook her head, no doubt attempting to stifle her glee.
“But I have the distinction of you persuading me to your manner of thinking with a shotgun,” he whispered.
She sighed and tilted her head. “Will you ever forget what I did?”
Gabe climbed up on the wagon seat and laughed heartily. “I rather doubt it. It’s my ammunition.” Calling for the boys to board, he picked up the reins and urged the horses on. “We’ll return shortly, Lena, most likely a little better than an hour since I have business with Mr. Shafer.”
“Do you have the rifle?” she asked as they pulled away.
“Yes, Ma’am. Danger won’t find me unaware.” At least he hoped not.
Gabe drove the team, a task he’d come to enjoy, while Simon chatted on about everything. Caleb, on the other hand, merely watched the landscape.
“You’re quiet this morning,” Gabe said. “Is a matter perplexing you?”
“I’m praying,” the boy replied, picking at a worn spot on his trousers.
“Anything particular?”
He shrugged. “I don’t want you to die like my pa. You didn’t fit in so good in the beginning, but you do now.”
Gabe realized the boy spoke from his heart. “A man doesn’t choose what day God calls him home, but I have no intentions of doing anything foolish to quicken the process.”
“I know that, but asking God to watch over you seems fitting to me.”
“And I thank you. Life’s been difficult since your father died.”
“Yes, Sir.” Caleb stared at the snow before them.
“Taking on the role as head of a household can be taxing.”
“Yes, Sir.”
Do I dare force his feelings out, Lord? Poor Caleb looks so miserable. “I’m sensing you didn’t weep at the funeral.”
A muscle twitched in Caleb’s cheek, and his lips quivered.
Gabe continued. “My assumption is you knew your mother needed you, and so you pushed your grief aside.”
Long moments passed with Simon’s incessant talking to absolutely no one. A solitary tear slipped from Caleb’s eye.
“Would you like to grieve the loss of your father now?” Gabe whispered.
Caleb nodded, his face so filled with sorrow that he threatened to burst. Gabe pulled the reins in on the horses and brought them to a stop.
“What’s the matter?” Simon asked.
“Hush, Simon,” Gabe chided gently. He turned to the older boy and enveloped him in his arms.
Caleb’s tears began quietly, then proceeded to heavy sobs as his body heaved with the agony wrenching at his heart. What do I say? When God did not give him any words, Gabe remained silent.
For several minutes he held the boy, allowing him to spill out every stifled tear he’d ever swallowed. Gabe knew the healing power of physical grief; he’d been privy to it a precious few times when only God could comfort him. When Caleb withdrew from the shelter of Gabe’s chest, he seemed humiliated.
“Don’t ever regret showing emotion,” Gabe said. “A real man attempts to experience all the happiness and sorrow the world contains. Only then can God use him in His perfect plan.”
The boy offered a grim smile. “After today, He’ll be using me for something big.”
Meeting his smile, Gabe gathered up the reins and urged the horses on. Is this what a father does? Lord, I’m exhausted from yesterday and today. . .but my spirit is exhilarated.
The Shafer property bordered Lena’s about forty minutes away, but instead of a sod-bricked soddy, the family’s dwelling was a dugout—at least that’s what it appeared to be. Many folks used this type of home, and Gabe understood the majority of homesteaders didn’t have time to construct a soddy when they first arrived. Preparing the fields for crops took priority, and dugouts were quickly constructed for shelter.
The Shafer home and the two dugouts used for barns fell short of being called in shambles. All looked as if the roofs would cave in at any moment. A pig had climbed the snow-packed hill forming th
e home’s roof. Gabe envisioned it falling through in the middle of a meal. Didn’t sound like a good dinner guest to him. More pigs rooted up next to the house, leaving their droppings outside the door—a sharp contrast to the white landscape. Gabe had no tolerance for the lack of repairs, filth, or the ill-clad youngsters who met them.
“Mornin’, Simon. Mornin’, Caleb,” a thin, pale boy said. His feet were bound with rags, and he didn’t wear a coat.
“Mornin’, Matthew,” the boys chorused. One scratched his head, and the other spit, reminding Gabe of old men ready to sputter about the weather and their rheumatism.
“This is our new pa.” Simon lifted the bucket of milk from the wagon.
Gabe climbed down and offered Matthew his hand. “Pleased to make your acquaintance. My name’s Gabe Hunters.”
Matthew didn’t appear to know how to respond. He lightly grasped Gabe’s hand and muttered something inaudible.
“Is your father available to speak with me?” Gabe asked, once again taking in the boy’s scant clothing. “I’d like to introduce myself.”
“He’s with the pigs.” Matthew pointed to a dugout nearby.
“Thank you.” I can follow the smell—even in the cold. Gabe rounded the dugout. He heard a list of curses much like he used to hear from his mother’s customers. Already he didn’t care for Dagget Shafer.
“I told you to take care of this sow before breakfast, and it still ain’t done,” Dagget shouted. “Guess you need a beatin’ to learn how to mind.”
Echoes of yesterday assaulted Gabe, causing him to tremble with rage. “Mr. Shafer,” he called out, forcing himself to sound congenial.
Another string of curses was followed by an “I don’t have time to see callers.” Dagget shuffled toward him, smelling like the animals he tended. “And who are you?”
Once again Gabe stuck out his hand. “Gabe Hunters. I’m your neighbor. Lena Walker’s husband.”
The man narrowed his brows and ignored Gabe’s gesture of friendship. “Lena, ya say? She must have been looking for money, ’cause you don’t look like a farmer to me.”
And you don’t possess any qualities resembling a decent human being. “I’m learning. I just thought it was about time I introduced myself.”
“Why?”
“To be friendly, neighborly.”
By this time, a little girl about three years old emerged from the shadows. She appeared clean from what he could tell, but her thin sweater and even thinner dress caused the child to shiver. In the shadows, a dark discoloration on her cheek indicated a bruise. Gabe didn’t want to think how she might have been injured. The vile image of this man inflicting the blow brought back a myriad of his own beatings.
Bending, Gabe stared into the little girl’s face. “Good morn-ing,” he said softly. She looked fearful and stepped back. “I’m Gabe Hunters.”
The child recoiled as though he intended to harm her. She raced from the dugout, her sobs echoing behind her. Dagget broke into raucous laughter, further irritating Gabe.
“I’m sorry if I frightened your daughter,” he said, still confused with what he’d witnessed.
“Aw, she thinks yer taking her to the Indians,” Dagget said, between offensive guffaws.
“Why would she believe such a thing?”
Dagget wiped his face with a dirty coat sleeve. “I told her she’d best be ready ’cause I’d sold her to a man who’d trade her for blankets from the Indians.”
He doesn’t deserve any of these children. “What right do you have to tell a child such a terrible story?”
“It ain’t no story. I’d do it in a minute. She ain’t worth nothing, and it’s none of your business no how.”
Gabe stared into the haggard face. He seldom grew angry, but causing terror in a child incited a fury so great that it alarmed him. “You’re right. Your daughter is not my concern, but I’m wondering why you don’t pick on someone who can meet you as an equal.”
Dagget narrowed his brows. “Like you? I’d make manure out of you in less than five minutes.”
“Probably in less time than you might think, but I will say this. If you want to get rid of that child and any of your others, just bring them to our home. We’ll take care of them in a proper manner.”
Gabe whirled around and marched back to the wagon. What an insufferable beast and an even poorer excuse of a human being. No wonder Lena had refused his marriage proposal. He glanced at the dugout with an earnest desire to gather up every one of those children and take them home. Dagget would no doubt come after them once he needed work hands. Gabe looked to the heavens for answers. The thought of another child suffering through the same ordeal as he’d known infuriated him.
Lord, I know I utilize more of Your time than appropriate, but I’m pleading with You to look after these children. I’ve only met two of them and heard about four more, but You have them sealed in Your heart.
He’d met some wonderful hardworking people here in Nebraska—good citizens who loved the Lord and demonstrated their devotion to Him and each other in everything they said and did. Then there were a choice few who wouldn’t know how to model the Lord if their lives depended on it. Gabe refused to dwell on Dagget another minute. He and Riley O’Connor were a matched pair.
Caleb and Simon stood near the wagon, still talking to Matthew. “Let’s go, boys,” Gabe said. “We have plenty of matters to tend to at home.”
“Don’t you be coming around here no more,” Dagget shouted with a string of curses. “Them boys can bring the milk without the likes of you sticking your nose into my business.”
Gabe took a deep breath and faced Dagget. “My sons will no longer be delivering milk. I will bring it each day but Sunday. If you want the milk for your family, then you’ll deal with me.”
He joined Caleb on the wagon seat, while Simon climbed onto the back. He released a labored breath and turned the horses toward home.
“I’ve never seen you mad,” Simon commented a few moments later.
“I’ve never been so infuriated,” Gabe replied. “Dagget Shafer places no value on his gift of children or the importance of the example he gives to them.”
“I heard what you said to him back there,” Caleb said. “I thought he was going to tear into you.”
Gabe smiled grimly. “One punch would have flattened me, but I didn’t care.”
“I’d have helped you,” the older boy said firmly. “We’d have done fine together.”
Gabe wrapped his arm around Caleb’s shoulders. The bond he and Caleb had formed felt good. A father’s love for his children. “Your mother would have disciplined us severely for fighting, I’m sure.”
“Naw,” Simon piped up. “She doesn’t like the way Mr. Shafer treats his children either. We don’t tell her the things he says to us in the mornings.”
A new surge of anger bolted through Gabe’s veins. “Well, he won’t have the opportunity anymore, now will he?”
twelve
“You’re right, Gabe. It’s snowing too hard to attend church tonight,” Lena said with a disappointed sigh. Already at midday, she could barely see through the window for the driving snow. “I’d looked forward to driving into Archerville for the Christmas Eve services.”
“We can conduct our own,” Gabe replied with a reassuring smile. “It won’t be the same for you, because I know how you enjoy visiting with the other members, hearing the sermon, and singing, but we’ll honor the Lord’s birth just the same.”
“Oh, I know you’re right, and you’ve looked forward to tonight too,” she said. “I’ve noticed how you enjoy the minister’s company.” She tilted her head. “Seems like Christmas Eve should be spent with others, but we’ll make do just fine.”
“Of course we will. I’d like to involve the boys in our own little service, and I do have something for each of you.”
“You do?” When did he purchase gifts? The occasions they’d ridden into Archerville for supplies, she’d been with him the entire time.
He offered a wry grin. “I purchased gifts in Philadelphia before boarding the train there.”
“Mine are very small,” she said, “and not fancy.”
Gabe reached for her hand—an infrequent action for him. “You, Caleb, and Simon are my Christmas treasures. With you, I am the wealthiest man alive.”
His words moved her to tears, for she knew without a doubt he meant every word. Although no mention of love had crossed their lips, she felt it growing as each day passed.
“Gabe, I have never met a man with such a giving spirit. I feel as though you know our needs before we speak them.”
His gaze met hers, sealing those words she wanted to say but couldn’t—not until he spoke them first. “Next to God, my family is my life.”
Oh, my dear Gabe. I never dreamed I could learn to love you, but you have made it easy.
That night after a hearty supper of ham, turnips, white-flour biscuits—which were a rare treat—and a pie made from dried pumpkins, they gathered around the fireplace to hear the Christmas story. Pushing back the rocker, all four sat on the rag rug. Caleb and Simon read from Luke, and Lena led in singing Christmas carols. Outside the wind whistled as it often did during snowstorms, but somehow it didn’t sound threatening as the story of Jesus’ birth unfolded before them.
“I have an idea,” Gabe said, “one I think you’ll enjoy. Caleb, I want you to pretend you are a shepherd boy. You’ve heard the angel’s proclamation of Jesus’ birth and are hurrying with the other shepherds to see the baby. Unfortunately, you must assist an aging shepherd who has difficulty walking. All the others leave you behind.”
Caleb stared into the fire for a moment. He nibbled on his lip, then turned to Gabe. “Knowing me, I’d feel sad the other shepherds would see the baby Jesus before me.”
“Only sad?” Gabe asked.
“Well, probably a little angry.” Caleb glanced at his younger brother. “Sometimes when I have to wait for Simon to tag along with me, I get mad. He can’t help being slow, like the old shepherd. Maybe I could talk to the old man so the walk would go faster.”
“Very good.” Gabe patted Caleb on the shoulder. “How do you think the old shepherd felt when the younger one had to help him walk to Bethlehem?”