The Gift of a Child

by Laura Abbot

  “Go ahead. Change the subject. You’ll see. I’m right. And that’s why,” Lily leaned across the table to wipe Mattie’s face with her napkin, “you’ll pick up Aunt Lavinia Saturday morning at ten.”

  “Caleb, you mean—”

  “Not Caleb. You. It’s already been arranged.”

  “And Caleb agreed?”

  Mischief flashed in Lily’s gaze. “Agreed? It was his idea.”

  Somehow Seth endured the next few minutes before he could excuse himself to find Caleb, wherever he was lurking about the place, and give him a colorful piece of his mind. A tour with Lavinia? He’d rather jump into a frozen pond!

  * * *

  Saturday morning Seth dressed in a clean shirt and his second-best trousers, slicked down his hair, slapped on a straw hat and headed for the barn, all the while thinking murderous thoughts. Squiring Lavinia Dupree around in a buggy? Making polite conversation? Beyond that, Lily’s remarks implied that he was expected to make a favorable impression.

  On his way to the Dupree home, Seth stopped by the sheriff’s office. Caleb had asked him to report the signs of a campfire, several days old, that he had discovered on a rock outcropping near the stream.

  “Thanks, Montgomery,” the sheriff said as he stood with Seth outside the office. “So far we haven’t seen any evidence that these wayfarers are up to no good, but it doesn’t hurt to be vigilant.”

  Seth tried to keep the tremor from his voice as he asked the question so important to him. “Any news about Alf’s people?”

  “The only response from other lawmen involved an army deserter and his Indian woman, but that report is over four years old and in the Fort Riley area. I can’t put much stock in it.”

  “Rose Kellogg is quite attached to the child. For her sake, I hope no parents show up to claim him.”

  “That’s the way Doc feels, too.” The sheriff moved his tobacco chaw to the other side of his mouth. “It’s probably a cold trail.”

  Relieved, Seth headed for the Dupree house. Walking up to the door, he steeled himself for the coming encounter. Hannah answered and told him her mistress would be right out.

  Sure enough here Lavinia Dupree came, dressed in a slate gray riding dress he was relatively sure had never seen the inside of a stable. “There you are, young man.” She consulted a watch hanging from a gold necklace. “Punctual.” She nodded with approval. “Let’s be off.”

  As she swept down the walk, he hurried after her, arriving at the buggy just in time to assist her.

  Starting along, he decided it was safer to seize the conversational initiative. “This is big country, Mrs. Dupree. What do you have in mind?”

  “Naturally I saw the countryside to the north coming in from the depot. Now I want to inspect the land to the west or south. I realize we can’t cover the ground all in one day, so you decide our route.”

  Dutifully he clucked to the horse and they passed the courthouse, going south. His passenger craned her neck to study the nearly completed building. “Imagine, such an imposing structure here in...” Seth was sure she was going to say “in the sticks,” but then she caught herself. “Here in these hills.”

  “The courthouse is quite the talk.” With an effort, he elaborated. “My sister Sophie is sweet on the chief stone mason, Charlie Devane, a fellow from Vermont who’s supervising the laying of the stone. All quarried locally.”

  “Do tell.” They rode in silence, leaving the town behind. “‘Sweet,’ you say. I suppose a fetching young man from the East is a welcome novelty for a young girl.”

  Seth clamped his mouth shut against the demeaning suggestion of his sister’s sweetheart as merely a “welcome novelty.” “And what about you? Are you sweet on anyone?”

  Was the woman always so inquisitive? “No.”

  “‘No’? Come now, Mr. Montgomery. It’s high time you settled down with a wife and children. Isn’t that how the West is to be populated?”

  “I couldn’t say.” The woman’s suggestion had turned his thoughts to Rose and Alf, and once there, they tended to abide. “I’m not the marrying sort.”

  He’d always held that opinion. Until recently. He kept such fantasies at bay by remembering his mother racked by the pain of childbirth and the heartbreak his father lived with every day. His current life was orderly, predictable. Why set himself up for possible disappointment?

  Lavinia tapped him on the shoulder with her fan. “Nonsense. Surely there are some young women around here who require a mate.”

  Seth cringed. Lavinia’s remark made him feel like an animal being paired off for breeding purposes. He seized upon a change of subject. “Tell me about your impressions of Cottonwood Falls.”

  As they started up a rutted path toward a low rise, silence fell between them until finally Lavinia spoke. “I must confess it is a very different place from what I had pictured. I had not expected to find culture here, but I was pleasantly surprised by the program at the Library Society. The town is more genteel than I had imagined. But the rugged, untamed terrain, while breathtaking, is strange in its openness and rawness. Yet I find it full of possibility.” She paused as the buggy rumbled over the rocky roadbed near the top of the hill. “In St. Louis I have been unaccustomed to mingling with, well, just anybody. Here, there are few of the class distinctions with which I am familiar.”

  Seth stared straight ahead. On the one hand, she was a grand lady examining the place, while on the other, she appeared to be making a genuine attempt to articulate her impressions.

  “In certain respects, frontier society seems more...democratic. It will take time to adjust and find my place here.”

  “Would you like to do that? Find your place?” Seth pulled the buggy to a stop facing a view of hills rolling away toward the horizon.

  Instead of answering, Lavinia surveyed the panorama before her. Only an occasional farmhouse or clump of cedars marred the sweep of sky, rock and tall prairie grass. “Untouched,” she murmured. “Beautiful in its own way.”

  He nodded, never having found words adequate to express his deep and abiding love for this land.

  “So to answer your question, young man, I would like to claim a place.” As if a sudden thought had occurred to her, she asked, “What is the price of land currently?”

  Slowly making their way down the other side of the hill and into a small valley shaded by cottonwood trees, Seth expounded on land prices, cattle and grain markets and the business opportunities for those who might settle in the area. Talking about such familiar subjects finally put him at ease with the woman, who stared straight ahead but seemed attentive. When he had exhausted the subject, they turned back toward town.

  Then, she made a statement that reduced his new-found comfort to distress. “That boy is a half-breed.”

  “Alf?”

  “Yes, Alf. Although he is an engaging chap, Rose and Ezra have made a mistake taking him in.”

  Seth controlled himself with great difficulty. “Is it ever a mistake to care for those in desperate need of it? He is only a child.”

  “One can give care without becoming emotionally attached. Rose thinks of the child as her son.”

  “She does. He gives her pleasure and seems to fill a void for her.”

  “But a half-breed?” Lavinia might as well have been talking about an aborigine.

  Stopping the buggy abruptly, Seth speared Lavinia with the intensity of his gaze. “Alf is a child of God. His parentage is not our concern. His well-being is.” He paused to stem his anger. “My apprehension in this matter is the heartbreak Rose may experience if Alf’s parents come to claim him. I fear it would be her undoing.”

  Lavinia eyed him shrewdly. “You want to protect her from such heartbreak.”

  “Yes. And I want to protect Alf.”

  “You don’t care what people say
about Rose, serving as an unmarried mother and all?”

  “What other people think matters little in God’s eyes.”

  “You are fond of both Rose and Alf.”

  “Yes.”

  The buggy creaked along for some minutes before reaching Lavinia’s street. Only when they pulled to a stop in front of her house did she speak again. “Thank you for the ride.”

  He shrugged acceptance of her gratitude. As he escorted her to her door, she walked head down, as if lost in thought. Just before she entered the house, she straightened and looked directly at him. “As for Rose and Alf, you have given me much to consider. She is my family. I don’t want her hurt. Not by those who speak ill of her and not by the boy’s missing family.” Then in a firm voice she added, “And most certainly not by you, young man, should you ignore her affections for you.”

  All the way home, Seth reviewed the morning and Lavinia’s puzzling attitudes. Surprisingly, he decided he might come to like her, but her last statement troubled him. Why would she think he had the power to hurt Rose? That was the last thing he would ever consider doing. But “affections”? What did she mean?

  * * *

  In the searing July heat, everything seemed to wilt—grass, flowers, trees and the residents of Cottonwood Falls. Few left home in the afternoon. Relief came only late at night and early in the morning. After the midday meal, Rose made a pallet on the cool parlor floor where she and Alf stretched out for storytelling and naps. He was especially charmed by her make-believe tale of Brave Alf who fought giants and saved fair maidens from danger with his magic marble. In addition to her regular chores, this morning, she had made dozens of cookies for this weekend’s camp meeting. She hoped the heat would break before Brother Orbison’s arrival. Anticipating the event was the one thing invigorating the townspeople. Although Rose wouldn’t have said it aloud, she knew camp meetings provided entertainment as well as conversion opportunities.

  She had just roused from a brief nap and was straightening her dress when she heard a knock at the back door. Leaving Alf sleeping on the floor and brushing a stray lock off her forehead, she slipped down the hall and into the kitchen. Seth waited on the porch, shifting his hat from hand to hand.

  “Am I disturbing you? I know you weren’t expecting me.” His large frame filled her vision, and his expression was tentative, as if he feared being turned away.

  “No, but Alf is sleeping.” She let herself out the back door. “Perhaps we could visit out here. Please sit down,” she said gesturing to a nearby bench.

  He settled beside her, hunching forward, still fingering his hat. “Much obliged.”

  From his taciturn manner, she had no idea why he was here or what she was expected to say. “Are you and your family planning to come to the camp meeting this weekend? I understand Brother Orbison has a powerful delivery.”

  “We’ll be there, but I don’t hold much with a fire and brimstone God. A God who takes a young mother or orphans a helpless lad for what some folks would call sin is no God of mine.”

  “Who is your God?” she blurted out before she could stop herself.

  He set his hat on the bench and leaned back against the house before replying. “My God is about doing right by everyone you meet no matter who they are. I would sorely like to question Him, though, about why folks have to suffer.” He stared off into space as if resigning himself to the fact no such answer would be written on the horizon.

  “I sometimes think we may go crazy with the questions,” Rose said quietly. “Perhaps we are arrogant to want answers on this earth. Maybe we must accept the mystery of God’s purpose.” She seldom spoke of these things, yet it felt right to do so with Seth. He left silences between their words, and in those silences, she felt drawn to his soul just as she was attracted to him as a person. If ever she could bring herself to trust a man again, he would have to possess Seth’s vulnerability as well as his honesty and strength of character.

  “The mystery, huh?” He turned toward her and for the first time since they sat down, gazed into her eyes. “I’m used to working with my hands. Laying out a plan, getting the materials, doing the labor and coming up with a result. There’s no mystery to that. But Alf?” He sighed and looked down. “The only way I can think about mystery is if it’s a blessing. Alf is.”

  Rose fought the impulse to reach for his hand. This was no glib, shallow man. “Yes, Alf is both mystery and blessing. A genuine gift from God.”

  “I appreciate your letting me be his friend.”

  “He adores you, Seth.” Unbidden came the thought, As do I. She stood up in the attempt to keep her confusing emotions at bay. “We can’t know what kind of person his father was, but he couldn’t ask for a better example of a man than you.” Clasping her hands in front of her, she felt the nails digging into her palm, in a silent prayer that Seth wouldn’t pick up on the deeper meaning behind her words.

  “He’s quite a little fellow. I enjoy him.” Then he stood and took her hand, holding it clumsily between his. “I appreciate you letting me come by to see him on the spur of the moment.”

  Her heart sank. He had just said it. He had come to see Alf. How foolish she’d been to think his visits had anything to do with her. “We welcome you.”

  “Besides,” he added, a smile breaking across his suntanned face, “I favor your cooking.” As if he had just discovered he was holding her hand, he looked down. “And I can talk to you, Rose. Not to many would I say such things as we discuss.” Then he disengaged his hands and, as if remembering the purpose of his visit, said, “I brought something for Alf. Will he be awake soon?”

  Before Rose could answer, the back door opened and Alf, rosy-cheeked and tousled from sleep, ran toward Seth, who scooped the boy into his arms. “Sett, you wanna play with me?”

  “That’s exactly why I’m here. I have a surprise for you.” He handed Alf to Rose. “You wait here with Rose while I get it out of the wagon.”

  “Surprise! He gots a surprise for me, Rose!” He wiggled in anticipation.

  “What could it be, Alf?”

  Alf shook his head sagely. “I ’spect a marble. Maybe like ’Vinia’s.”

  “Or perhaps a spinning top?”

  The sound of Seth’s approaching footsteps caused them to turn. Rose set the boy down to scamper to meet the man, who pulled from behind his back a magnificent stick horse, painted with the same spots of Seth’s horse Patches, complete with a mane of real horsehair and leather reins.

  Alf’s delighted, “Horse, my horse!” could’ve been heard by people streets away. Without instruction, he straddled the stick and went galloping around the back yard. “Faster, faster,” he cried in a shrill voice.

  Rose stood beside Seth watching the happy child cavort across the grass. “Did you make that?”

  Seth shrugged. “Yep. He’s too young yet for the real thing, but every boy needs a horse.”

  Standing on that back porch in the late afternoon sunlight, Rose gave no thought to the oppressive heat or the need to start supper. Only to the delighted boy and the generous man beside her.

  Chapter Nine

  Fortunately, the heat broke in the late afternoon of the first day of the camp meeting when a cooling breeze stirred the banners hanging from the large canopy tent erected near the river. As folks gathered, pious looks did little to conceal the undercurrent of anticipation. Such circuit evangelists were a novelty, and their oratory often had a mesmerizing effect on their audiences.

  Rose had delivered her cookies to the refreshment table and, with Alf in tow, was making her way to the children’s area where several of the church ladies would tend the little ones during Brother Orbison’s preaching. Her father and Bess Stanton were saving her a seat while she settled Alf. No settling was needed, however, when he spotted Mattie running toward him. “Brudder, I play wif you, right?” The two children
joined hands and ran toward their friends.

  Trailing Mattie were her parents and Aunt Lavinia, who was doing little to conceal her distaste for the signs of religious fervor around her. “Mercy,” she murmured to Rose, “I have no idea what I’m doing here.” She turned then to Lily. “You remember our church in St. Louis. One could count on dignified worship.”

  “Call this another frontier experience, Aunt Lavinia.” Lily caught Rose’s eye and an unexpressed giggle passed between them. “Camp meetings are a meaningful addition to worship for many people. You might even like it.”

  Lavinia sniffed, then spoke to Caleb. “Your wife is ever the optimist.”

  He smiled fondly, cradling Lily’s elbow. “Indeed. After all, she came here and married me.”

  Lavinia looked around. “Where did my great-niece go?”

  Lily pointed to the children’s circle. “Over there.”

  “Isn’t she precious, that one? And so precocious?”

  A lump forming in her throat, Rose followed her aunt’s gaze. There were two children there. Couldn’t Lavinia see that? Yet in the time she had been in Cottonwood Falls, aside from the gift of the marble to Alf, her attention seemed focused solely on Mattie, as if Alf could be easily dismissed. Try as she might to rationalize that it was natural for Mattie, a blood relative, to be favored, Rose ached for Alf, who, happily, seemed oblivious to his inferior status.

  As the group made their way to the revival tent, Rose glanced back over her shoulder to assure herself that the children had adequate adult supervision. Slipping into her place next to her father on the third-row bench, Rose sensed excitement building among the congregation. Folks had come from all over the county, and many expected to camp out or spend the night at friends’ homes. Tapers on either side of the lectern illuminated the raised platform. Attached to the tent canvas was a large poster of Jesus holding a lamb beneath which were the words Hear Brother Hampton Orbison’s Christian message and be forever changed. To God be the glory.