When Ezra raised his brows, Noah knew he was right. Sophie’s talent was every bit as real as he believed it to be.
“They’re very good.” Ezra stroked his chin. “And you think readers will be interested in these pictures?”
Ezra’s opinion had already emboldened Noah. “Don’t you? There’s nothing more popular than the pictures of the West in the Democrat. Why not give people the same visual gift about their own backyard? Newcomers and others just passing through will be interested in knowing what to look for around here, or on the prairie if they make plans to move on.”
“Illustrations increase the cost,” Ezra said but added a grin before Noah’s hopes could be dashed. “And there won’t be any colors. But I think your idea is sound, and I can suggest a name or two at the papers who can afford such a thing—starting with the Prairie Farmer.”
Chapter 5
“And so, dear brethren, let our hearts stay warm toward the God who watches over us and sees our every action. Let us plan the remembrance of Christ’s birth with love in our hearts for those outside the church, because we may be the only glimpse of God’s love others will see. Amen and amen.”
Sophie filed out of the pew behind her family. Everyone was jubilant over the new building Pastor Goodwin had found in the city, even though the facts behind its availability might be something they would prefer not to think about. Another church had tried establishing itself, only to fail, leaving their quarters vacant. Didn’t anyone worry such a cycle might repeat itself in this muddy, stinking city?
Outside, Sophie turned up her collar against the wind. At least with colder temperatures the mud had hardened, but that was small comfort against the biting gusts.
She drew her brows together as she watched Gordy, walking ahead of them toward home, three blocks from church. Earlier in the week, he had been the cause of one of their mother’s rare sour moods, but with good reason. While she and Sophie were baking bread, Gordy’s teacher paid them a visit. Her brother had taken to coming home late after school, saying he was spending time with friends. But his teacher informed them he hadn’t come to school at all that day.
Sophie couldn’t help but wonder if Gordy wasn’t taking after Noah, despite the lack of a blood tie.
“You’ll help me with the costuming, won’t you, dear?”
Sophie was startled when her mother put an arm around her shoulder, shaking her from her thoughts. They walked on arm-in-arm, and she was grateful to share her mother’s warmth.
“What’s that, Mother?”
“For the Nativity pageant. Haven’t you been listening? The pastor mentioned he hopes the Christmas season will draw people to church.” She sighed, her gaze on Gordy, too. “I’m hoping the fun of a pageant will keep Gordy busy with better things to do than spend time with boys who don’t think school is important.”
“Yes, I’ll help—if I’m needed, that is. I don’t think Pastor Goodwin has had much success recruiting participants.” She didn’t bother to veil the glare she sent her mother’s way. “Those of us who came from Toledo were more concerned about bringing brides, Mother. There is only one Mary in the Nativity. Evidently we should have brought more boys than just Gordy.”
Instead of being offended at Sophie’s reminder of why they’d come to Chicago, Mother laughed and patted her shoulder. “All we want is to provide a happy life for our children, dear. As the saying goes, a shared life is twice as pleasant and half as hard. Jane Cabot is ready to prove that already.”
Sophie grimaced. Jane was the first of the girls they’d traveled with to become engaged, and everyone was talking about their New Year’s wedding. The silly way Alice and Arthur were acting, she guessed they might be next to announce upcoming nuptials.
The prospect of watching the girls go down one by one, like ducks at a hunt, seemed abjectly unjust. So obviously contrived. And yet, somehow, the thought of being the only one not to marry presented an unexpected worry.
What else was she to do but marry if she couldn’t follow her dream of drawing wildlife?
Noah grabbed the collar of the boy he recognized as having been one of the participants in the fight he’d witnessed not long ago. Holding him at arm’s length, he ignored the boy’s protests over having been waylaid on the boardwalk on South Water Street.
“I have a proposition for you and your friends,” Noah said over the boy’s shout.
“I don’t want no proposition! Lemme go!”
“How do you know you don’t want something you haven’t even heard yet?”
Noah let go of the frayed collar, only to grab hold of the boy’s shoulders. With the temperature growing so much colder, it was a wonder the boy had left whatever home he had with such thin protection—if he even had a home.
“What’s your name, boy?”
“None o’ your business.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. I live in this town, and you’re a troublemaker for all of us. So you made it my business.”
“You’re dotty! Now lemme go!”
He attempted to break free, but Noah’s height and strength had the advantage. It occurred to him the boy had a right to his own freedom, and if anyone saw the exchange, he’d likely find himself—not the boy—in trouble. But he wasn’t ready to give up on his idea so easily.
“Look,” said Noah, “I know you must be one of the most loyal members of your pack, or else you wouldn’t have had the grit to fight. You’d have let somebody else do the fighting. I want to talk to you and the rest of the boys you haunt with.”
The boy’s struggle eased just enough to let Noah think he wouldn’t run off if given the chance. So he let go. The boy shrugged at his jacket, setting it right on his shoulders again. But he stayed put, although the suspicion on his face wasn’t any friendlier than the anger had been a moment ago.
“Whata ya wanna talk about?”
“I have a job for you. It’s only for a season, but worthwhile. It could lead to other opportunities.” And it might be the only way to keep an eye on Gordy.
The boy huffed. “Sure. You got a job for a bunch o’ boys when this town’s filled with grown Irishmen who can’t get a job since canal work got done.”
“It’s a job only young people can do.”
“What kind o’ job?”
Noah regarded the boy curiously. “Maybe you’d better let me talk to your friends. I’d rather give everybody the chance to answer without you making up their minds ahead of time.”
The boy seemed to take it for what it was, a compliment on the power of a leader’s influence. “Meet us back o’ the tavern down the street in an hour,” he said. “The Hog’s Head.”
Noah would have thanked him for the name, since so many streets in the city hosted more than one tavern. But the boy ran off. Noah called after him. “Hey, kid, what’s your name?”
“Still none o’ your business.”
Then he was gone.
“You call that a job?” Tully repeated.
The only reason Noah had learned the boy’s name was because he’d heard someone else address him. He knew this was taking a chance, a “dotty” one as Tully might say, but there was bound to be a boy or two who could be convinced to join the Nativity pageant in exchange for what he had in mind.
“What’s a job except an exchange of goods and services?” Noah scanned the patched clothing—near rags—some of the boys wore. “You get a meal at every practice—one you won’t have to steal. You get a warm place to eat it, and at the end you get a coat to see you through till spring.”
“All for dressing up like loons?”
“Shepherd boys.” He looked around. “And three will get to be kings.”
There was a titter here and there, a general consensus as to who should play one of the kings, but Tully stopped their rumblings with a shout. “Hey! This ain’t no kingdom, so you can all make up your own minds. I think it’s pure twaddle. Anybody who does it’ll make a fool of hisself.”
Another boy, the one Noah re
cognized as having been on the other end of the fight he’d broken up, stepped closer. He was taller than Tully, every bit as brash, and from something he’d said earlier, Noah already knew he was Irish. “A free meal every time we show up, ya say? And a coat to boot?”
“That’s right.”
The boy eyed Noah as if he were an object less than worthy of consideration. Even though his height was in his favor, bulk was not. He was as scrawny as a scarecrow.
“I’ll be there.”
To Noah’s vague surprise, four of the nine boys told him they would be at the first rehearsal the night after next. But not Tully.
Now all he had to do was share the news with the pastor—and hope he’d meant it when he’d said he wanted to show the love of God to those outside the church.
Noah figured he couldn’t get much further outside the church than the boys he was about to bring in.
Chapter 6
“I don’t see why we can’t just ask fully grown men from our church to fill the roles in the pageant.” Was Sophie the only one wondering such a thing? It appeared so, since even Alice, next to her, looked at her with some surprise.
“The point is to invite others in,” Noah said, “so you can get to know some of your new neighbors.”
His gaze was settled firmly on Sophie’s, once again with a light in his eyes. The man was actually proud of himself! But why wouldn’t he be, if he was intent on bringing in boys just like the one he’d been himself—a rascal and a scamp?
Sophie could hardly believe both of her parents were so agreeable to a plan Noah had obviously concocted all on his own. Even though the pastor had presented the idea of a choir and pageant to the church on Sunday, he’d just now given the credit to Noah for the promise of a successful pageant. If she’d known it was Noah’s idea, she wouldn’t have come to this first planning meeting at all.
“The boys will always be supervised,” Pastor Goodwin reminded everyone. “Noah has agreed to direct, so he’ll be here for every rehearsal. My wife will conduct the music, and Mr. Stewart will take care of the Nativity scenery while his good wife will see to the costumes and our new choir robes.”
“And the coats and promised meals?” Sophie asked. “Where will the provisions come from?”
“I’m sure every family will be happy to donate an item or two,” Pastor Goodwin said, adding with a grin, “I’ve been told you make the best beef stew this side of the Mississippi, Sophie.”
“That’s true,” chimed her mother.
Alice, next to Sophie, leaned close and whispered in Sophie’s ear. “Aren’t you tired of playing the grumbler every time Noah has anything to do with something? Go ahead and agree!”
Sophie knew she couldn’t very well refuse, not unless she wanted it to be assumed her faith in mankind was so lacking she didn’t want to help feed a few hungry boys. She must agree, even if it was for a bunch of rapscallions led by the Pied Piper of brutes himself.
“Actually, I was hoping for more help from Sophie—Miss Stewart.” Noah corrected himself the way he used to when in the presence of polite company. For heaven’s sake, he’d been calling her Sophie ever since she could remember! “I was hoping she might help with rehearsals. If she’s up to the challenge, of course.”
All eyes, not just Noah’s, now rested on her. She was to be dared in public to participate in something that might very well be an impossible task, at Noah Jackson’s side? Working with scoundrels who were likely every bit as much trouble as Noah had once been?
“I think that’s a wonderful idea, dear,” her mother announced. “After all, Gordy will be involved, and you’ve always gotten on so well with him and boys his age.”
Who didn’t get along with good boys? But this was altogether different. She’d already opened her mouth to agree to cook a meal or two, and somewhere along the way she’d clamped it shut. It wasn’t until Alice nudged her that she realized she must open her mouth again, no matter what kind of alarm clanged inside her head.
“Yes, of course I want our church program to be wonderful. I’ll help.” Then she eyed Alice, who was smiling so smugly that Sophie added, “And I’m sure Alice will be happy to assist, too.”
Alice’s brows rose in surprise, but she smiled and agreed when Arthur took her hand from her other side. “We’ll both help,” he said, holding up the hand he clasped.
That was some comfort. At least she wouldn’t have to spend the evenings ahead as the only nonrascal in the room.
Midway through the first rehearsal, Noah was beginning to wonder if his plan would succeed. It had started so promisingly, despite only one boy beside Gordy coming from the church. All four of the street boys showed up.
That was when Sophie’s face became more guarded than ever. How was he to convince her that even rascals could change?
Not helping matters was his greatest challenge so far—not from the street boys, but from Sally Hobson.
“But I only came to help with the dinner because Alice told me to come,” Sally said.
“Don’t you want to be part of the pageant, Sally?”
And then, to his surprise, Sophie came to his aid. “Especially in such an important role? Other than the baby Jesus, who is more important than Mary?”
The girl wrung her hands. “Well … I never thought I could get up in front of others and … act.”
“Oh for heaven’s sake, Sally,” said Alice, who evidently found it unnecessary to exhibit much patience with her little sister, “you’re the right age and size. And besides, we have no one else. You’ll have to do it.”
Sophie reached out to caution her friend’s tone, but it was Noah who lightened the mood with a laugh.
“How can anyone resist such a persuasive request?” Then he looked at Sally. “You might want to consider that at present our only alternative is to dress up one of the boys as Mary—”
“Hey!” cried Louie, one of the boys from the street. “We ain’t none of us gonna put on a dress. Them shepherd robes is close ‘nough.”
To Noah’s relief, he saw the hint of a smile hover at the corners of Sally’s lips.
“Half the boys here are starting to sprout whiskers.” Noah added a grin to his coaxing. “I don’t think Mary would like to be portrayed by any of them. What do you think, Sally?”
The smile broke free at last, and she nodded.
“Thank you, Sally. Or should I call you Mary?”
Was Sophie the only one immune to Noah Jackson’s charm? He was like a chameleon she’d read of, a little creature able to change its colors whenever necessary.
Eyeing the boys who had come to participate, she couldn’t help but remember the compassion she’d felt watching them eat, as if none of them had tasted such a meal in their lives. Although they expressed no gratitude other than finishing every last bit of the stew she’d provided, and every one of them used his shirtsleeves to wipe off his hands and mouth, she had to admit they were less threatening than she expected. None of them seemed to be carrying a slingshot, or worse.
Her greatest surprise of the evening came with how the boys treated Gordy—as if they’d known each other forever. Her mother had certainly been right to be concerned. Only when they teased him about playing the angel did she find herself less worried; at least they thought only Gordy could fit such a role.
“The shepherds are frightened at first,” Noah explained. “After all, wouldn’t you be if you saw someone coming down from the skies and talking to you?”
Louie laughed and jabbed the boy next to him. “Not if Lorcan swiped his daddy’s whiskey jug again. We’d see all kinds of things and wouldn’t be afraid neither.”
Noah laughed right along with the boys, but Sophie frowned. Didn’t his laugh encourage such harmful behavior?
“But they’re also curious,” Noah went on. “These brave shepherds. Instead of cowering or running home to hide from something they’d never seen before, they follow the angel’s instructions. They go to Bethlehem, where they find the proof of w
hat the angel told them. That’s where they adore the Savior of the world.” He looked around at the boys then added softly, “Our Savior, too. Mine and yours.
“So we’ll begin with a narrator,” he went on. “That’s Pastor Goodwin. He’ll speak from behind a curtain, so everyone will hear him but not see him. He’ll start by telling everyone about Herod and the wise men and the reason Joseph must take Mary to Bethlehem to be counted in the census….”
He continued to explain the roles, even citing their lines, having them repeat them, and asking them to remember what to say for the coming rehearsals. It would have been far easier had he distributed a script of some kind, and Sophie was determined to ask him about it just as soon as the rehearsal ended. Surely Alice would help Sophie copy such a thing.
“And when the host of angels join our angel—Gordy—we’ll have the choir lead everyone in the song ‘Hark! The Herald Angels Sing.’ That way the audience can be part of the pageant. Afterward, with the shepherds looking on, the three wise men appear with their gifts, and they, too, worship the baby Jesus. Then the angel returns, telling the wise men to go home by a different route and not tell Herod about Jesus. He also tells Joseph to take Mary and the baby out of Bethlehem, to safety, and that ends the pageant: with Mary looking back on the scene while the choir sings ‘Christians Awake! On This Happy Morn.’”
“Are we gonna have to sing, too?” asked Flynn, the boy standing next to Gordy. Earlier he’d seemed happy to be a shepherd, but he didn’t look particularly interested in singing.
“We’ll all sing,” said Mrs. Goodwin. “We might even have a piano by then! The church’s first Christmas present, from a wonderful benefactor named Ezra Pooley.”
The familiar name made Sophie’s gaze dart from the pastor’s wife to Noah, who wasn’t even looking her way, for once. Instead, he put a hand on the concerned boy’s shoulder. “We’ll have plenty of time to learn our lines and the songs, too. We’ll start tonight with the songs. Okay, Flynn?”
“Don’t worry about your voice, Flynn,” added Arthur. “I only sing loud enough for God to hear. I figure He gave me a voice that can’t hold a tune, so He must somehow like it. But I’m not sure anybody else wants to hear it.” He looked Alice’s way, who beamed so fondly no one could have doubted she’d welcome his voice, no matter how off-key.
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