Prairie Storm

by Catherine Palmer

  “Do you have any legal papers to show you’ve adopted the boy, Reverend?”

  “Of course I don’t. His parents weren’t in any shape to sign him over to me.”

  “All the same, we’ve got ways of doing things around here. An abandoned baby doesn’t just belong to the first fellow that picks him up.”

  “Well, who does he belong to?”

  “The state of Kansas.”

  “But his mother gave him to me.”

  “Do you have any witnesses to that?”

  Elijah felt like he was about to explode. “My horse.”

  With a scowl, the deputy scratched the back of his neck. “I guess you noticed that baby’s not all white, Reverend Book. He’s got some black or Indian blood in him. Maybe Mexican.”

  “His blood is red, same as yours and mine, Deputy. Now, if you’d please step aside, I’ll see to it that he’s given some food and put back into his own cradle where he belongs.”

  “Is this your wife?” The deputy gestured at Lily.

  “No, she’s not.”

  “That’s a relief.” The tall gentleman gave a benign smile as he addressed the deputy. “This young woman, good sir, is my daughter. Lily, what a surprise to find you here. Your mother and I are very grateful to Mrs. Waldowski for alerting us to your whereabouts.”

  Lily cast a withering glance at Beatrice before facing her father. “If you gentlemen will excuse me,” she said with the barest trace of a tremble in her voice, “I need to tend to the baby.”

  “I’m sorry, ma’am, but I can’t allow you to take the child out of my sight,” the deputy said. “He’s a ward of the state, and I’m going to have to take him with me back to the state-run orphanage in Topeka.”

  “Now just a cotton-picking minute—,” Elijah began.

  “Shall I nurse the child in full view of the public then, sir?” Lily cut in.

  “Nurse him?” the deputy and Lily’s father said at the same time.

  “You don’t think he’s old enough for meat and potatoes, do you?” She swallowed hard as she walked between the two men. When she lifted the baby, his sobbing began to quiet. “Come on, Samuel, sweetheart,” she murmured. “Are you a hungry boy? Wet, too! Oh, poor little fellow.”

  Turning, she gave the deputy a hard stare. “This baby is in good hands, sir. Better hands than he would be in at an orphanage in Topeka. I’ll go and feed the pastor’s son now, and when I come back, I trust you’ll have seen reason.”

  As the deputy and her father stood silent, Lily carried the baby out the parlor door. When Elijah turned to follow her, the lawman spoke up.

  “You’d better stay here, Reverend. We’ve got some talking to do.”

  Elijah took a hard-backed chair as near the door as he could. He felt outnumbered, and that made him uncomfortable. But more than that, he sensed that, although God’s presence was inside him, the Spirit was not in this room. An oppressive heaviness hung in the air, sitting on his chest and weighing down his heart. He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees.

  “Look, what is it you want from me, Deputy?” he asked. “You know I’m a man of God. There are plenty of folks in town who’ll testify to my calling as a preacher. I took the baby out of kindness to his dead mother, and I’ve grown to care about the boy. I’ll do whatever I need to do to make him legally mine.”

  “A warm and godly expression,” Lily’s father cut in, flipping back his coattails as he sat down on the settee. “You, sir, are a man of righteous intent and pious purpose. I therefore appeal to your reason in the matters at hand. First and foremost, the child’s welfare must be addressed. Second, my daughter’s future is of great interest to me.”

  Elijah studied the man’s blue eyes, reminiscent of Lily’s, yet somehow devoid of the life and spirit that sparkled in hers. So this was the father who had beaten his child black and blue. This was the man who had broken his little girl’s ribs and arm. This was the great, respected conductor of the Greater New England Symphony Orchestra—a man in control of everything but his own temper.

  “Dr. Richardson has come all the way from back East to fetch his daughter,” the deputy said. “And I’m here to take the baby to Topeka. The way I see it, that settles both problems.”

  “I don’t think so,” Elijah countered. “Lily has been nursing and tending to Samuel for a long time now. The baby had a rough start in life, and he’s still not as strong as he ought to be. If you take him off to Topeka, Deputy, he might die. Does the state of Kansas want to be responsible for the death of an innocent baby?”

  “How can we be sure the kid doesn’t have relatives on the Osage reservation?” the deputy asked. “It’s clear he’s part colored. Maybe he’s got an Indian grandma or something.”

  “His folks were dirt farmers,” Elijah explained. “They were passing through the reservation.”

  “How do you know?”

  “They were in a wagon filled with belongings—plows and seed and rocking chairs. Look, Deputy, can’t you go through your records and search for an account of somebody finding the wagon? I can tell you exactly where it was. That ought to prove me out. I buried the bodies right there by the side of the road.”

  “Well, I reckon—”

  “They were a couple of folks heading west to start a new life—just like thousands of others—when they ran into trouble with some renegade Osage. The wife was Indian, maybe, or Mexican, or even Italian. I don’t know, and I don’t care. All I do know is, she begged me to take Samuel and raise him up in the Lord. And that’s what I intend to do.” He turned to Richardson. “As for your daughter, sir, it looks to me like Lily’s made up her own mind about her future. She lives with a good family in town, she’s got work to do, and she’s happy.”

  “Happy?” Richardson straightened his tie. “Reverend Book, you tell us you care for that baby you found by the roadside. Do you have any idea the depth of love a mother and a father have for their natural-born daughter? When Lily vanished from our home, her mother became hysterical. She was inconsolable.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that, sir. I’m sure Lily didn’t mean to upset her mother.”

  “For more than a year now, we’ve been forced to accept the conclusion that our only child might be dead,” the man went on. “And suddenly, a miracle is sent from heaven! Mrs. Waldowski writes us a letter, informing us that our Lily lives! Though you tell me she is happy, Reverend Book, I cannot accept your judgment. Clearly my daughter is not well. That she would willingly leave our home, the tender care of her mother, a future of comfort and security, illustrates the fragile condition of her mind.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with your daughter’s mind,” Elijah said.

  “But I’ve been given to understand from Mrs. Waldowski that our Lily has been living with a traveling show, roaming about aimlessly, surviving in the direst of circumstances. I want you to know, this young lady received the finest education money can buy! She is trained in the fine arts of womanly decorum. She has been prepared for a life in the highest echelon of society. And you tell me she chooses to live in abject poverty? Of course she’s gone mad!”

  Elijah felt like his drawers were crawling right up his back. Lily Nolan wasn’t crazy. She’d chosen to run from this very man who claimed to have given her a happy life but in reality had tormented her with his abuses. Everything in Elijah told him to spill the beans on the pompous Dr. Richardson. But why would the deputy trust the word of a down-home preacher with a foundling baby over that of the conductor of the Greater New England Symphony Orchestra—a man with a diamond stuck through his tie?

  “Your daughter, sir,” Elijah addressed Richardson, “is not only sound of mind, but she’s shown herself to be a respectable citizen of Hope. Any number of folks will tell you how she’s helped out the Hanks family, taken good care of my son, and even pitched in to rebuild the town after a cyclone hit us. But you ought to let Lily speak for herself. She can tell you what she wants to do with her life.”

  “My d
ear man,” Richardson said, his mouth pulling into an expression of disbelief, “you of all people should understand a woman’s place of submission in Christian society. Surely you’ve read the scriptural admonition that woman may not be allowed to ‘usurp authority over the man, but to be in silence.’ I trust you’ve been trained in a detailed explication of the Bible, and you are aware that the apostle Paul taught the Corinthian church that ‘the head of the woman is the man’ and that ‘it is not permitted unto them to speak; but they are commanded to be under obedience, as also saith the law.’”

  Elijah twiddled his thumbs. Well, he’d read the Bible through a few times, but he didn’t exactly recall those particular verses. Truth to tell, he’d gotten the impression that Christ loved women as much as men, and that a godly woman could fulfill an important role in the church. Wasn’t there somebody named Priscilla who helped her husband hold worship services in their home? And then there was a lady named Lydia—

  “You have studied at a seminary, have you not?” Richardson asked.

  The preacher shifted uncomfortably. “No, sir.”

  “Then what makes you think you’re qualified to preach the gospel?”

  “I heard the voice of the Lord calling me to tell other folks about him, so I got on my horse, and I went out and did it.”

  A triumphant look crossed the conductor’s face. “Upon my word, young man, you are completely ignorant! You have no formal training, no religious education, and no experience in matters of family instruction or spiritual guidance—and yet you proclaim yourself a minister of God’s Holy Word! You have had the effrontery to place yourself in a position of leadership over the church of Jesus Christ in Hope, Kansas! I am astonished.”

  Elijah felt about as low as a snake and twice as dumb. The man was right, of course. Elijah had no business pastoring a church or giving anybody advice.

  “Young man, you must get yourself to a seminary before the week is out.” Richardson adjusted his diamond tie tack. “I cannot, in good conscience, endorse your presence among the people of this warm and earnest little town. Do you not recall the words of St. Paul to young Timothy? ‘Give attendance to reading, to exhortation, to doctrine.… Take heed unto thyself, and unto the doctrine; continue in them: for in doing this thou shalt both save thyself, and them that hear thee.’”

  “I have been reading the Bible, sir, every day. And I’m studying it as well as I can.”

  “Your sincerity impresses me. In fact, I am quite willing to write a letter of recommendation on your behalf to the dean of the institution of higher learning to which you aspire. I shall personally address myself to this matter in order that your future education is assured. I am well acquainted with the presidents of various venues of religious instruction, and I shall provide you with a list of recommended schools. You strike me as a man of untrained but sincere caliber. An education will transform you into the model of a minister.”

  With a nod, he indicated that the subject was closed. Feeling about like he had the night the twister hit Hope, Elijah studied a pair of sparrows building a nest under an eave of the new opera house. Dr. Richardson was right that he didn’t know much about pastoring. He was uneducated, too. But he wasn’t ignorant. Elijah knew his Savior. And he knew that God had promised to keep his eye on Lily and Sam—just like he was keeping watch over those sparrows.

  “As for the foundling child,” Richardson went on, “it is abundantly clear that his future lies in the competent hands of the state of Kansas. Do you not recall the admonition of the Lord to Jeremiah the prophet? ‘Leave thy fatherless children,’ he warns, ‘I will preserve them alive.’ It is God’s work—not yours, Reverend Book—to provide for the orphan. An unmarried, uneducated man in need of schooling cannot hope to rear a helpless baby. The child must be placed in the good hands of the orphanage.”

  “I reckon you’re right,” the deputy chimed in. “Although I’ve got to tell you—”

  “My daughter, of course, will return to Philadelphia with me on the next train from Topeka.” Dr. Richardson rose and straightened the tails of his coat. “Obviously her mother and I must attend to the immediate repair of her mental condition and the reconstruction of her reputation. Following that, we shall see that Lily is secured in the good marriage and societal position for which we prepared her.”

  Elijah stood. Though he knew his boots were on solid ground, he felt a little off-kilter. Richardson was obviously a man who knew God, knew the Bible, and knew the right way of doing things. Educated and wealthy, he cited Scripture as though there could be no arguing. And why would Elijah argue with the Word of the Lord, anyway? But for some reason, the whole thing didn’t sit straight.

  Could a man like Richardson possibly be wrong in what he said? Even lying? Could someone in a position of leadership in a church and in a city really be speaking in error—especially when he backed up everything he said with verses from the Bible?

  As the esteemed gentleman made casual conversation with Beatrice Waldowski, George Gibbons, and the deputy, Elijah thought about Lily. Maybe the woman had deceived him about her father. Maybe Dr. Richardson hadn’t hurt her at all, but instead she had chosen a willful and rebellious path away from family and Christ. Maybe Elijah didn’t have any business pastoring the Hope church. And maybe Samuel would be better off in an orphanage in Topeka.

  “I’m assuming you know the place to which my daughter has taken the child,” Richardson said as he walked to the parlor door. “Perhaps you would be so good as to lead us there, Mister Book.”

  Elijah pictured Lily sitting under the big cottonwood tree beside Bluestem Creek. She would be holding Samuel, singing some little lullaby the way she always did, and stroking his soft dark curls. It was under the cottonwood that Lily claimed to have opened her heart to Christ. Elijah had to believe that much was true. With his own two eyes, he had seen the changes in her.

  And he knew a few other facts, too. Lily and Samuel belonged together. Lily and Elijah belonged together. Sam was Eli’s son. And Christ had joined the three of them. This image in Elijah’s mind of the group of people united for a higher purpose seemed true and quite real. Yet Dr. Richardson’s words rang powerfully to dismiss it. Elijah must go to a seminary, the baby to an orphanage, Lily to Philadelphia. God had ordained their futures.

  Unable to see clearly, unable to sort through the whirlwind in his mind, Elijah headed into the foyer of the opera house. “I’ll fetch your daughter, Dr. Richardson,” he said.

  “I don’t think it would be wise for you to go alone. ‘Be sober, be vigilant,’ young man, ‘because your adversary the devil, as a roaring lion, walketh about, seeking whom he may devour.’”

  Eli stopped, frustration rising to the point of anger inside him. “Now what’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Ah, ignorance! Ah, bliss!” The conductor clapped him on the back. “How easily you fall prey to the limitations of your own fallible mind. I am telling you that you must stay away from my daughter at this vulnerable time in your life. The powers of the seductress are great, and you—like most men—are hard-pressed to resist them. Come, we’ll all seek out my Lily as one party. Deputy, will you join us?”

  The lawman was chewing on a wad of tobacco as he studied the inside of the opera house. When Richardson addressed him, he focused again on the matter at hand and nodded his acquiescence. The three men stepped outside, followed by Beatrice and her cohorts, and they all set out for the grove.

  With every step Elijah took down the road toward the cottonwood tree, the noose tightened around his neck. If he let Lily go with Dr. Richardson, would she find the happiness God had planned for her, as her father insisted? Or would she fall victim to a man who had no control over himself? At this moment, Dr. Richardson was in control not only of himself but of the whole situation.

  And what if Elijah let the deputy take Samuel away? Would the baby really live a better life in an orphanage than in the home of a man who loved him as a son? Of course, love didn’t make up for i
gnorance and inexperience. Eli knew he possessed both of those in abundance.

  And what if Eli left the town of Hope and headed east to get himself an education? Would he be turning his back on the call to shepherd that little flock? Or would he be freeing the people of Hope to find themselves a minister who really could meet all their needs?

  “There she is,” Beatrice Waldowski said. “There’s Lil, hiding behind that old tree.”

  Her voice jerked Eli right out of the cyclone and set him on his feet. The noose around his neck loosened. A peace that passed all understanding filled his heart.

  “I’ll talk to Lily,” he said.

  “I’ll fetch her,” Bea insisted.

  Eli grabbed the woman’s arm. “She left you, Madame Zahara. She chose a new life.”

  “I suppose you think that means she chose you.”

  “She chose Jesus Christ.”

  “Oh, please. Lily’s as naive and stupid as that baby she’s so attached to. She couldn’t make a decision on her own if her life depended on it. You tricked her into leaving me. You seduced her away from a good future—”

  “In your brothel? I don’t think so, Beatrice. Lily doesn’t need you, me, or her father. Truth be told, she’s given her future to someone she can really count on.”

  “What’s this about a brothel?” the deputy asked.

  “Lily!” Beatrice called. “You can come out of hiding now, little girl. Daddy’s come for you.”

  Before anyone else could move, Eli took off through the grove of trees to the place where Lily sat nursing Samuel. As he approached, she tugged her white shawl over the baby’s head and looked up at the man, her blue eyes clouded with uncertainty.

  Eli hunkered down beside the two of them and let out a breath. This was where he belonged. Right here with Lily and Sam.