The Rails to Love Romance Collection
Page 46
Amelia nodded at the pair. The man stood with squared shoulders and a raised chin in a strong, proud pose, but his weathered face held a scowl that seemed etched in place. Amelia resisted a shiver and shifted her attention to the woman. Wearing a faded gray dress and bonnet, she appeared as weatherworn as her husband. She clasped her chapped hands against her ribs and hunched forward slightly as if she carried a weight on her back. Sympathy stirred for the woman.
“The Wilcoxes heard about Lucy.” Preacher Henry touched Lucy’s hair. The child snuffled and burrowed. “They wanted to take a gander at her, talk to you about adoptin’ her since…” He flicked a glance toward Abe, who hadn’t moved from his spot in the aisle. “I’ll let you all get acquainted.” He hurried off.
Mrs. Wilcox gave Amelia a hopeful look. “Could’ja wake her? Lemme see her face?”
Amelia jostled her shoulder a bit, and Lucy stirred. Yawning, she raised her head and blinked at the circle of faces.
The woman released a little gasp. “Oh, so comely. Ain’t she a pretty little thing, Bent?”
The man’s scowl didn’t fade. “Pretty don’t matter. How old is she, lady?”
Instinctively Amelia tightened her hold on Lucy. Something in the man’s demeanor unsettled her. “Three. She turned three two months ago.”
The man snorted. “A three-year-old ain’t gonna be much help. An’ look how spindly she is. Probably couldn’t even carry a bucket o’ water from the well.”
“But she’ll grow, Bent, an’ the bigger she gets, the more help she’ll be.”
Amelia bristled. Did they want a child or a farmhand?
Mr. Wilcox jammed his hands into the pockets of his baggy pants. “Me an’ the missus’ve visited orphanages twice before, took home youngsters both times. Bigger ones. But they run off first chance they got. Ungrateful brats…” He crunched his lips to the side and stared hard at Lucy. “S’pose takin’ in one this young might be good. She’s too small to get far if she tried to run off, an’ probably easier to train, too.”
Trepidation gripped her. Why hadn’t Preacher Henry stayed? She needed him. She glanced toward the aisle, intending to beseech Mr. Early with her eyes, but he was gone, too. Her breakfast curdled in her stomach.
The wife lifted a hopeful look to her husband. “So we can have her?”
“Reckon so.” The man reached for Lucy.
Amelia took a backward step, shaking her head. “You can’t just take her.”
Mr. Wilcox’s eyes glittered with fury. “Don’t you be tellin’ me what I can or can’t do, lady. Preacher said the child needs a home. We’re offerin’ one. Now give her over.”
“But I can’t!” Panic turned Amelia’s voice shrill. “There’s protocol to follow. Lucy has already been adopted.”
The farmer snorted. “Those folks’re dead. They ain’t gonna care what happens to her.”
Perhaps Mr. Early didn’t care, either. If he cared, he wouldn’t have left her to face this vile man alone. Amelia swallowed bile. “That may be true, but the agreement between Edwin and Ruby Early and the Good Shepherd Asylum must be severed by the circuit judge. Then a new application has to be made to the director of the orphanage in New York before I can grant your request to adopt Lucy. I—I don’t have the authority to—”
Mr. Wilcox grabbed his wife by the elbow and jerked her toward the aisle. “C’mon, Millie. Circuit judge’ll be through next week. He’ll do right by us.” He pushed his wife out of the church.
It was too late. He’d told Miss Emmett to take the child away, and she’d done it. Now someone else would take in the little girl. Abe gripped the reins so tight they cut into his bare palms. If only it was some other couple besides Bent and Millie Wilcox.
Abe couldn’t find any fault with Millie. Meek, kindly, never complaining—everyone in town said she was a good woman. But she stayed with Bent, and no one had a good word for that man. Nobody could prove it, but folks suspected he abused his wife. Probably the youngsters they’d taken in, too, which is why they never stayed. And now Miss Emmett was going to let the Wilcoxes take Lucy. A sick feeling flooded his gut. He couldn’t let it happen. But how to stop it?
He knew how. By keeping her himself. It was what Ed and Ruby wanted. Truth was, he wanted it, too.
Abe lowered his head and contemplated the bit of the sermon he’d heard. He hadn’t exactly sinned by sending Miss Emmett and the child away, but he’d hurt them. He’d seen it in their eyes. Could they forgive him? Hope flickered within him. But then he remembered how his clumsiness had almost hurt little Lucy!
But it didn’t.
He sucked in a breath. He hadn’t hurt her. He’d avoided stepping on her, avoided falling on her. He touched the tender spot on his head. He’d hurt himself, but he hadn’t hurt Lucy. Except for her feelings when he’d barked at her to get back. Was he being too hard on himself, thinking he was irredeemable when really all he needed was to try harder?
It was time for him to stop fearing what might happen and let God guide him to a family of his own. He opened his mouth and bellowed out the refrain of their closing hymn. “Leanin’ on the everlastin’ arms!”
Chapter Ten
The first Wednesday in June, Amelia awakened early and filled the washtub with warm water. She bathed Lucy, using her best lilac-scented soap, and let the little girl splash and play with the bubbles until the water turned tepid. Then she dressed Lucy in her finest dress—the one of cream linen with ruffled lace sleeves—and combed her silky hair into perfect, sausage-shaped curls. She battled tears the entire time. Because today she would say goodbye to her precious Lucy. And then she would say goodbye to the little Kansas town and its residents. Including Mr. Abraham Early.
Yesterday evening after tucking Lucy into bed, she and the Voths had talked about her future. Given her experience with caretaking, she could easily find a job as governess in a large city. As soon as the hearing was over, she would purchase a ticket and make her way to Kansas City or maybe Lincoln, Nebraska. Mrs. Voth hinted that she should stay in Kingsley, at least for a while. But her heart would wither and die if she was in this town but couldn’t claim Lucy and Mr. Early for herself. She had to leave.
As she adjusted the bow on the back of Lucy’s frock, part of the prayer Preacher Henry offered right before Amelia went to bed drifted through her memory. “Work Your perfect will concernin’ little Lucy, our Amelia, and Abe. Your plans are best, dear Lord, an’ we trust You to use the judge to bring ’em to pass.” Amelia closed her eyes and echoed the prayer in her heart. She would trust God to guide the judge into making the right decisions today.
The Voths accompanied Amelia and Lucy to the church, where the circuit judge set up court during his visits to town. As they walked side by side up the boardwalk, Mrs. Voth took Amelia’s hand. “Now, no worryin’, Amelia, you hear me? I have faith Abe’ll come to his senses and show up to do his duty toward Lucy. He loved his brother somethin’ fierce, an’ he won’t do anything that would make Ed roll over in his grave.”
Amelia’s heart pattered in hopeful beats, but when they reached the churchyard, Abe’s wagon was nowhere in sight. The hope flickered and died. He wouldn’t come. Not for Ed, not for her, and not for Lucy.
Other townsfolk needing to talk to the judge waited in the chapel though, including the Wilcoxes who sat in the back corner away from everyone else. Amelia kept her gaze forward. It hurt too much to envision the surly man and timorous woman with her vibrant, sweet-natured little Lucy.
The sheriff called names one by one. Folks stated their cases, and Amelia listened carefully to the judge’s edicts. He seemed knowledgeable and fair, and her hope that he would make the right decision for Lucy increased with every announced decision.
As the morning stretched toward noon, the room grew stuffy, and the sheriff and Preacher Henry circled the room, opening the windows. Street sounds and children’s voices from the schoolyard nearby filtered in.
Mrs. Voth leaned close to Amelia. “There’s still a
lot of folks waitin’ to see Judge Parker. Hard to say when they’ll call your name. Lucy’s gettin’ fidgety. Want me to take her outside, let her get some wiggles out? I’ll be able to hear when you get called if we stay close to the windows.”
Amelia didn’t want Lucy to muss her dress or hair, but it wasn’t fair to make the child sit so still for hours. She nodded. “Yes. That’s fine. Thank you.”
Mrs. Voth reached for Lucy, but the sheriff announced, “Mr. and Mrs. Bent Wilcox in the matter of the adoption of Lucy Early.”
Amelia’s heart fired into her throat. She searched the room. Mr. Early hadn’t come.
Of Abe and Ed’s four horses, only one was saddle broke—Jerry. And of all the mornings for Jerry to throw a shoe, he had to choose this one. They’d only made it halfway to town when the horse’s back left shoe dropped off. Abe came close to riding in anyway, but he couldn’t risk crippling the horse. So he’d walked the long distance to his land, put Jerry in a stall, then hitched Pet to the wagon and taken off again.
Now the sun beat directly overhead. Sweat poured down Abe’s face and into his eyes. He blinked against the sting and prayed he’d make it in time. He drove directly to the church, ignoring folks’ smiles and waves. The churchyard was crowded with wagons. So the judge was still doing business. He parked at the edge of the yard and set the brake. A voice escaped the open windows—Bent Wilcox, scornful and brash.
“You ain’t in New York no more, city lady, an’ your fancy ways don’t mean nothin’ around here. The folks who adopted that girl are dead an’ buried, an’ that means the adoption’s buried, too. So you just step aside an’ let the judge finish writin’ papers that make me an’ my missus the legal guardians now.”
Abe’s heart sank. He was too late. He started to flick the reins, instruct Pet to take him home again, but deep within him a longing rose up and propelled him from the seat. He might be too late to claim the child, but at the very least he would have his say to Bent Wilcox. The man would listen, too, when looking up into Abe’s face.
Miss Emmett, holding Lucy, was at the edge of a scarred table carried in to serve as the judge’s bench. The Wilcoxes stood opposite her, Mrs. Wilcox chewing her fingernails and Mr. Wilcox scowling at little Lucy. The judge appeared to be examining a document. Abe strode up the center aisle and stopped at the edge of the dais. He cleared his throat.
All five people on the dais turned toward him at the same time. Wilcox’s lip curled into a snarl. Mrs. Wilcox’s eyes went wide. The judge’s eyebrows dipped as if annoyed by the intrusion. Miss Emmett seemed to wilt, and little Lucy reached for him and crowed, “Uncoo Abe!”
Abe stepped forward and plucked Lucy from Miss Emmett’s arms. “Judge Parker, have you rendered your decision yet?”
The judge leaned back in his chair. “I was just about to sign my name to these transfer of guardianship papers. But if you’ve got something to add, I—”
“He’s just tryin’ to cause trouble.” Wilcox flung his arm toward Abe. “If he wanted the girl, he would’ve been here first thing.”
Abe wished he could push his fist through Wilcox’s lumpy nose. “My horse threw a shoe. Slowed me up, or I would’ve been here earlier. I’m here now, though. An’ I’d like to have my say.”
The judge shrugged. “I’m listening.”
Wilcox muttered, but the judge’s frown silenced him.
With Miss Emmett’s gaze fixed on him and Lucy playing with his ear, Abe gathered his courage and spoke his heart. “You’ve been given some papers that show my brother an’ his wife adopted this child as their own. In those same papers, there’s a part that says if somethin’ happens to Ed and Ruby, I’m to take care of the child. I confess, I was pretty scared about it at first. That’s why I told Miss Emmett we’d meet with you, Judge Parker, an’ have the agreement severed. But that was six weeks ago, and I’ve changed my mind.”
Miss Emmett gasped.
Abe shifted to address her. “I wanna be Lucy’s uncle. I wanna raise her, the way my brother would’ve if he hadn’t died. I don’t want the adoption severed.”
Judge Parker pushed the papers and pen aside. “Well, if there’s no opposition to the original documents, then I don’t need to change a thing. Mr. and Mrs. Wilcox, your petition to take guardianship of the child is denied.”
Mr. Wilcox erupted with angry oaths. Mrs. Wilcox began to cry. He grabbed his wife by the arm and charged down the aisle and out the church doors.
Miss Emmett darted close, her tear-filled eyes pinned to his face. “Do you mean it? You intend to keep Lucy?”
A smile pulled on Abe’s lips. “I mean it. ’Course, I still have a problem. Don’t see how I’ll do all my farmin’ an’ take care of her at the same time. I’ll need… help.” His mouth went dry, and he swallowed twice before adding, “Would… would’ja help me?”
Her heart ached. She loved the child. She loved the man. Staying would let her spend her days with both of them. But being his housekeeper and Lucy’s governess would never satisfy her now. She wanted more. She hung her head.
He cupped her chin and lifted her face. “Amelia?”
Oh, what joy to hear her name on his tongue. Slowly, so slowly she might have imagined it, he set Lucy on the edge of the table and then went down on one knee in front of her. Titters and muffled gasps rose from those waiting their turn to see the judge, but he didn’t even blink. He kept his gaze locked on her.
“Amelia,” he said again in his deep, throaty, gentle tone. “Would you marry up with me?”
She glanced at Lucy’s sweet, innocent face. She dared a glance into the congregation and caught Preacher Henry and Mrs. Voth leaning forward, eagerness lighting their faces. She turned to Abe, who knelt before her with one hand extended and hope glowing in his unusual gray eyes. She gulped. “Why? Just for Lucy, or …?” She held her breath, unwilling to risk her heart until she knew. What if this was all a farce, like the first time he’d asked?
He shook his head, the movement slow and deliberate, his eyes never wavering from hers. “I’m askin’ ’cause I love you, Amelia Emmett. The three of us”—he gestured to include Lucy—“belong together.” He caught her hand and brushed a kiss on her knuckles, the touch igniting a fire in her chest that spread to her limbs and sent her heart soaring. “Marry me.”
Tears filled her eyes, blurring his dear face. She nodded. “Yes.”
“Today.”
She gaped. “Today?”
“Now.”
She clasped her throat, holding back a laugh. “Now?”
“Why not? We got the judge here, the preacher, and a flower girl.” He rose and scooped Lucy onto his hip. He shrugged. “It’s a fine day for a wedding, don’t you think?”
His grin was so boyish, she let her laughter escape. “Yes. Yes, Abe.” What glory in speaking his name—her soon-to-be-husband’s name. “There’s no finer day or no finer moment.”
With a broad smile, Abe turned to the judge. “You heard the lady, Judge Parker. And while we’re at it, how about changin’ those adoption papers after all.”
Amelia tipped her head, puzzled.
“I’d rather be Papa than Uncle Abe.”
Which meant she’d be Mama instead of Aunt Amelia. She’d prayed that Lucy’s new mama and papa would love her, but she’d never expected God to allow her to be part of the prayer’s answer. Fresh tears flooded her eyes and spilled down her cheeks.
He folded his arm around her and jostled her a bit. “You all right?”
She smiled up at him through her tears. “I’m more than all right. I’m blessed beyond all expectation.” She curled her arm around Lucy’s waist and pressed her cheek to Abe’s solid chest. The steady thrum of his heartbeat in her ear was the prettiest wedding march ever. From her nestling spot, she grinned at the judge. “Well? Do you have a wedding certificate in your portfolio or not?”
The man winked. “That I do. Preacher Henry?”
The minister charged onto the dais and spread his arms wide.
“Dearly beloved, what God hath brought together, let no man pull asunder.”
Kim Vogel Sawyer, a Kansas resident, is a wife, mother, grandmother, teacher, writer, speaker, and lover of cats and chocolate. From the time she was a very little girl, she knew she wanted to be a writer, and seeing her words in print is the culmination of a lifelong dream. Kim relishes her time with family and friends, and stays active in her church by teaching adult Sunday school, singing in the choir, and being a “ding-a-ling” (playing in the bell choir). In her spare time, she enjoys drama, quilting, and calligraphy.
My Soul Waits
by Connie Stevens
My soul, wait thou only upon God; for my expectation is
from him. He only is my rock and my salvation:
he is my defence; I shall not be moved.
PSALM 62:5–6
Soli Deo Gloria
Chapter One
Ten miles north of Laramie, Wyoming, 1875
Pa, you can’t be serious.” Rosemary Denton’s mouth dropped open as she stared at her father. “Philadelphia? Why would you want to send me halfway across the country to spend time with relatives I can barely remember?”
Daniel Denton folded his arms across his chest. “Don’t pull that innocent act with me, young lady. I ain’t blind. I’ve seen the way you and Wade Renfroe flirt with each other when you think nobody’s watchin’.”
Heat rushed up her neck. “Pa—”
He narrowed his eyes. “Renfroe is one of my top hands, and I can’t do without him right now. But if it weren’t for spring roundup and brandin’, I’d send Renfroe packin’.” Pa huffed—that noise he always made when he grabbed a problem by the horns.
Rosemary’s stomach tightened. “So you want to send me packin’ instead? Pa, how could you? We—we haven’t done anything wrong.” Was it wrong to let Wade steal a kiss? A whirlwind of panic spiraled through her, and she tried to force her thoughts into a logical, practical reason to make Pa change his mind. But her brain froze and stumbled.