“Not entirely. In living a life, is there room for a broad interpretation?”
“It depends,” the preacher said. “How broad are we’re talking about?”
Logan rubbed his chin. “For example, can a godfather play poker?”
“I’m afraid gamblin’ is out of the question.”
Logan sat back. It wasn’t what he wanted to hear. “What about alcohol?”
“Alcohol is okay for medicinal purposes,” the preacher said.
Logan frowned. “That’s it?”
“’fraid so.”
“What about women,” Logan asked and held his breath.
“How broad an interpretation are we talking?”
Logan shrugged. “You know a man has certain physical needs….”
“Ah, now, that’s an area where you might be tempted to stretch the limitations beyond what’s acceptable.”
“What do you consider acceptable?”
The preacher looked flustered. “A chaste kiss might be all right. Long as you keep your hands where God can see them. At least till you tie the knot.”
Logan frowned. He felt like he was applying for sainthood. “What else does a godfather have to do? Besides stay within acceptable limits?”
“Nothing more. Unless, of course, something happens to the mother.”
The very thought of something happening to Libby made Logan’s mouth go dry as an old tobacco box. “She told me I would have to teach him the Ten Commandments and the Golden Rule,”
“And don’t forget to take him to church on the Sabbath.”
Logan frowned. “The Sabbath part could be a problem in my line of work. Sometimes weeks or months pass and I never as much as see anything remotely civilized.”
“That presents a challenge.” Genesis thought for moment. “I suppose under those circumstances it would be understandable to miss Sunday worship. As long as you make an effort to attend whenever possible. Here…” He reached for a Bible. “Take this and read a little every day.”
Logan took the Book from him. He’d never owned a Bible, never saw a need.
Genesis stood and slapped Logan on the shoulder. “Now don’t go getting yourself all worked up about this. I would say that Noel’s mother is a healthy specimen if I ever saw one. Let’s just think of you as insurance.”
Logan wasn’t sure he liked the sound of this. “Insurance, you say?”
“Think of it this way. You know how some of those Eastern folks never go out without a pair of galoshes, even in the middle of summer when there’s not a cloud in the sky. It never rains in the summertime in California, but they are always prepared. Trust me, your duties as a godfather will keep you as busy as a pair of galoshes in summertime.” He laughed at his own joke. “A good way to start any new endeavor is with prayer.” With that he lowered his head and Logan followed suit. It was the hardest Logan ever prayed.
God, don’t let me mess this up. Let me do right by Libby and Noel.
Logan left the preacher’s tent a changed man. He was determined to be the best godfather a boy could hope for. He would protect Noel with his life, that’s what he would do. Why Noel wouldn’t want for a thing, not a thing. Nor would he wander off God’s path. Not if Logan had anything to do with it.
*****
The night before Noel’s baptism Libby sat in front of the fire, Noel’s baptism gown fashioned out of her nightgown spread across her lap. After sewing the last stitch in place she cut the thread and stuck her needle into a sawdust pincushion. Holding up the white cotton gown, she gave it a critical once-over.
The yoke was embroidered with tiny little flowers and trimmed with a narrow white braid. The lace that she’d taken such care to sew along the puffed sleeves and round neckline was a bit too wide, but she had ripped it off her petticoat and it would have to do.
Satisfied with the finished garment, she carefully pressed the dress with a hot brick and hung it over the back of a chair. All that was left to do was sew ribbon onto the matching bonnet.
She tiptoed into Noel’s room to check on him, carrying the white gown with her. He’d been fussy earlier and she feared he might be coming down with a cold. His soft even breathing assured her that he was sleeping peacefully. She draped the gown over a chair so it wouldn’t get wrinkled and tiptoed out of the room.
While gathering her sewing supplies from her chair she dropped a pin on the large bearskin rug. She lifted the hem of her skirt and fell to her knees. The fur felt coarse to her fingers as she searched the deep nap. It hadn’t seemed anywhere near as coarse the night she and Logan sat together on that very same rug. In fact, she distinctly remembered that on that particular night the rug felt soft to the touch.
Had it really only been eight days since he’d come to supper? It seemed like forever since she’d seen him. She had, of course, bumped into him twice since. Both times he’d been polite, but guarded, acting like he didn’t know where to look or what to say. She’d tried her best to put his mind at ease. But it was hard with her heart beating so wildly in her chest and her mouth refusing to form a sensible sentence. She wanted him to know that she really did appreciate his kind marriage proposal, even though they both agreed it was not a particularly practical one.
A knock at the door made her jump to her feet. She knew it was Logan by his knock, but even the moment she took to brace herself before opening the door did not prepare her enough, and she greeted him with a wavering voice.
“I…didn’t expect to see you.”
“I know…” He seemed to be having a difficult time looking her straight in the eye. “I have something for Noel.” He handed her a rectangular package, tied with a piece of rawhide.
“How very thoughtful of you.” She stared down at the package in her hands, wishing they could recapture the easy rapport they once shared. But that was before he’d asked her to marry him, before she knew how much she wanted to. “Do you want to open it now or should I wait until after his baptism tomorrow?”
“Since I want him to wear this tomorrow, you’d better open it now.”
Remembering her manners, she stepped aside. “Do come in.” Heavens, they spoke to each other like strangers meeting for the first time.
After closing the door she crossed the room and placed the package on the table. She smiled nervously before slipping off the rawhide and pulling back the paper.
Inside was a little buckskin suit identical to the one Logan was wearing, complete with a fringed caplet and rawhide lacing. She held the little outfit in front of her.
“It’s absolutely lovely! I’ve never seen anything so adorable.” Her delight increased upon spotting the tiny moccasins to match. “Oh, Logan!”
Logan rewarded her with a broad smile. “Made it myself.”
That explained why she’d seen him so seldom during the last week. She thought of all the times she’s peered through the canvas opening at her window to his cabin, not wanting to be caught gaping, yet driven by some inexplicable need to know what he was doing. It never once occurred to her that he was working on an outfit for Noel. “It’s so small.”
His smile faded. “It’s not too small, is it?”
“Oh, no! It’s perfect.” For no good reason, she felt her face grow warm. ‘‘But then, you always were good at guessing sizes.”
“Well now.” His gaze dropped down the length of her.
She held Noel’s suit in front of her as much to block Logan’s view as to study the detailed handiwork. At first she thought the intricate design on the yoke had been embroidered, but closer observation revealed the little animal shapes had been created from tiny colored beads.
“Learned beadwork from a Dakota Indian,” he explained.
“I’ve never seen such intricate work,” she said. “And look at all this lovely fringe.”
“Whangs,” he said. “Trappers call them whangs.”
“Whangs,” she repeated.
“That’s so the rain will run off.”
“You just never know
when that might come in handy,” she said.
“If you like I can grease it up to make it really waterproof. Bear grease is the best.”
“I don’t expect that Noel will be out in the rain that much.”
“No, I suspect not. You remember how to clean buckskins, don’t you?”
The corner of her mouth lifted slightly. “Place them on an anthill.”
He grinned. “I just might make a mountain woman out of you after all.”
She caught her breath. “You…you said something earlier. About Noel wearing this tomorrow.”
“For the baptism. It doesn’t seem right to have a baptism and not be dressed properly.”
He looked so earnest that she didn’t have the heart to tell him that it was customary for the baby to be baptized in a proper white christening dress.
“I quite agree,” she said and smiled.
“It seems the least a godfather can do is to see that his little godson has himself a proper outfit on such a special occasion.”
“Noel doesn’t know how lucky he is.”
“I…” His gaze washed over her. “I’d better be going. Tomorrow is an important day and you need your sleep.” He turned toward the door.
Reluctant for him to go, she reached for his arm in an attempt to delay his departure. He turned his head and looked back over his shoulder. Feeling foolish, she dropped her hand and stammered a good night. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow.”
“And, Logan…. I’m much obliged to you.”
After he left, she held up the little buckskin suit. She could only imagine what her staunch Boston parents would say if they knew that their grandson was going to be baptized in such an outfit.
The thought made her laugh.
*****
The entire town of Deadman’s Gulch turned out for Noel’s baptism. All except for Cast-Iron, who took to the hills first thing in the morning, a-mumbling and a-grumbling, as Sharkey told the others, about the town a-going crazy.
The sky was deep blue with not a cloud in sight. The sun was warm, and the last of the snow around the newly built church had melted into pockets of mush. Wood planks were positioned so that Libby could walk without slipping or otherwise muddying her boots.
The church was already packed by the time Libby and Logan took their place in front of the pulpit.
While they waited for Pastor Genesis, Noel was passed like an offering plate from miner to miner. Everyone agreed that he looked right spiffy in his little buckskin outfit. Noel obviously loved all the attention. He cooed and gurgled, and the miners cooed and gurgled back.
When it was Big Sam’s turn, he held Noel with both hands, carefully cradling Noel’s head in the crook of his muscular arm. “Gee, gee, gaw, goo, goo.” The large man mimicked and Noel responded in kind.
“What’s the boy saying?” Sharkey asked.
Big Sam rocked Noel. “Don’t tell me you don’t understand baby talk.”
“Had no call to learn,” Sharkey admitted.
“He said, when I grow up I want to be just like Big Sam.”
McGuire laughed and slapped Big Sam on the back. “Since that little fellow’s got no teeth, he’s got a purty good start.”
This brought more laughter, and Noel was handed to Thornton, who made holding a baby look as unnatural as a bear giving birth to a lion.
“Will you look at this?” Big Sam scorned. “I’ve seen sacks of flour flung over the rumps of mules fare better.”
Libby watched the big black man demonstrate the proper procedure for holding a baby and held back the urge to laugh.
“Got to keep the baby’s center of gravity in line with the sun,” Big Sam explained with such conviction, no one questioned his competence.
Thinking the minister had arrived, Libby glanced at the doorway upon seeing someone enter the church. Instead, it was her Chinese friend, Macao. Libby threaded her way down the center aisle to greet him.
“Macao, I’m so happy you came.”
The Chinese man bowed graciously. “It’s very nice of you to invite me.”
Libby pointed to an empty spot just as Preacher Genesis arrived, his Bible tucked beneath his arm. Dressed in black flannel shirt and trousers, with a piece of white linen tucked neatly into his collar, Genesis managed to appear appropriately dressed for the occasion.
The preacher took his place at the front of the church and adjusted his spectacles as he waited for everyone’s attention.
When it took too long in coming, Big Sam stood up and yelled, “If you don’t close your traps I’ll close them for you!”
McGuire looked scandalized and quickly snatched Noel away from the big man’s arms. “Didn’t anyone ever tell ya how ta talk in church?”
Looking properly chastised, Big Sam addressed the crowd in the most God-fearing, reverent voice he could muster. “Can’t you see Pastor Genesis is waiting?”
McGuire handed Noel to Sharkey, who handed him to Shakespeare, who handed him to Beaker. At last Noel reached the front of the church and Logan’s waiting arms. Logan took his place beside Libby and they both faced the minister.
Libby glanced at Logan’s profile. The last time she stood in front of a preacher was on her wedding day. She had so many hopes and dreams that day, so many of them broken. Would the dreams she had for her son fare better?
As if to sense her gaze on him Logan turned his head. His eyes locked with hers for a moment before they both looked away like two children caught doing something wrong.
It took only a few minutes for Genesis to dribble water over Noel’s head and announce him duly baptized. The infant looked startled before letting out an indignant cry.
“It’s all right, little fellow,” Logan said. He jostled the baby up and down, and in short order Noel stopped crying.
Libby smiled at Logan. “I told you that you had a way with babies.”
Logan smiled back. “Well now.”
After the ceremony, the men crowded around to congratulate Libby and take another look at the wondrous child who had fallen asleep in Logan’s arm.
Big Sam clapped to get everyone’s attention. “Now that we’ve got ourselves a properly baptized baby, this calls for a celebration.”
“Wait a minute.” McGuire waved a hand over his head. “Ah think we need ta talk ‘bout something first.” He waited for everyone to quiet down before he spoke his piece. “Now that we have a respectable church, Ah think it’s high time that the rest of the town took on more respectability.”
“We are r’spectable,” Sharkey said, looking offended.
Beaker concurred. “What could be more respectable than a mother and child, and now a church?”
The miners nodded in agreement and everyone began talking at once.
“Hear me out,” McGuire pleaded. He climbed onto one of the log pews so that he could be seen and heard by those in the back of the church. “Ah say that we tear down the town’s eyesores and put up proper buildings that will do our bairn proud.”
“It’ll take too long,” one miner pointed out. “We got gold to mine.”
Hap Montana piped up, his baldhead gleaming in the open doorway of the church. “It won’t take long if we work together.”
It was a startling statement, especially coming from a man whose chief occupation was to avoid work. A moment’s silence followed as everyone turned to see if the speaker was indeed, the owner of the sorry state of affairs known as the general store.
“There ain’t much else we can do,” Big Sam said. “I tried to mine my claim yesterday and the ground is still as hard as rock up there.”
“That’s my point,” McGuire said. “While we’re waiting for the ground ta thaw, we could be putting our time ta good use.”
A lively debate followed as to how best to go about improving the town. Finally, McGuire took the floor again. “It’s agreed then. We’ll begin first thing tomorrow. We’ll tear down the canvas building and construct permanent ones. Everyone agree?”
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The miners let out a loud roar that made Noel’s eyes fly open momentarily before fluttering shut again. McGuire’s finger flew to his lips as he signaled the men to keep their voices low.
Choo-Choo stepped on the pew next to McGuire. “Fancy churches and buildings are all well and good. But that doesn't change that fact that you’re asking a young mother”—he waved at Libby and then turned back to the men—“to raise her son in a town named Deadman’s Gulch.”
Moe the bartender called through cupped hands. “What are you saying, Choo-Choo? You think we should change the name?”
Shakespeare stepped on the pew next to Choo-Choo. “A rose by any other name will still be a rose.”
Big Sam cursed. “What’s that suppose to mean?”
McGuire glared at the strapping black man. “Can’t ya talk properly in church?’
One of the miners in the back pew shouted out. “It means that you can call Deadman’s Gulch anything you want and it will still stink.”
This brought jeering protest from the others.
“Hold it!” McGuire raised his voice to be heard. He waited for quiet before he continued. “I think Choo-Choo has a good point. We can change the town all we want but unless we change the name, Libby isn’t going to want to raise her son here. Isn’t that right, Libby?”
Libby didn’t know what to say. She didn’t want to hurt the men’s feelings. But nothing they did to the town was going to prevent her from leaving. Fortunately someone else spoke up, saving her the embarrassment of having to point this out.
“So what are we going to call the town? Roseville?”
“How about Lavender Gulch?’
McGuire waved for silence. “We’ve gonna do this right. Write down your suggestions. At the end of the week, we’ll post them in front of Hap’s place. When everyone’s had time ta give each name due consideration, we’ll take a vote.”
Much discussion followed, but in the end it was decided that Noel would have himself a proper town with a proper name—if only for a short time.
Chapter 22
In the days to follow, Libby stood on her front porch and watched the canvassed structures up and down Main Street disappear. In no time at all wood frames rose in their stead. From early morning until late dusk the air vibrated with the sound of hammers and saws.
Margaret Brownley Page 18