by Laura Abbot
She swooned against Bess who helped her to the sofa. “I have to do something. Think, think. Where could he be? Oh, God, please.”
Her father entered the room, his face gaunt and drawn. He started to speak but had to clear his throat before he could choke out the words. “I found this in the barn. In exactly the same place we originally found Alf. Nothing else was disturbed.”
Stooping in front of her, he pressed a piece of paper into her hand, then bowed his head as if awaiting the guillotine.
Rose looked down, studying the words on the paper, her eyes blearing with tears. She read. She read again. Then she howled as only a wounded animal would. The paper fluttered to the floor, the message visible to all: I KUM FER ALF. MY BOY AGIN.
Chapter Ten
Seth rode into a milling sea of his friends and neighbors, men shouting to their wives to herd the children into the church. In the growing dusk, it was difficult to distinguish the cause of such hubbub, yet the shrill cries and hoarse commands left little doubt that something was very wrong. He scanned the crowd for his family. Sophie was helping calm the children heading for the church. The sheriff was directing the men to gather by the schoolhouse, but Caleb, Lily and Mattie were nowhere to be seen. Nor were Ezra, Rose and Alf. He dismounted and hurried toward the group around the sheriff. “What’s happened?” he rasped out, breathless.
“It’s the half-breed brat,” one of town idlers said, his sly look causing Seth to clench his fists. “Missing. Good riddance.”
Before Seth could land a blow, Lars Jensen shoved through the crowd. “Montgomery, hold up.” With a satisfied backward glance, the mean-spirited informant slunk away. “Here’s the situation. When Miss Kellogg went to collect the boy after the supper, she couldn’t find him. We’ve been unable to locate him so far. All we know is that your little niece mentioned seeing a woman with him.” Seth reeled and the sheriff put a steadying hand around his shoulder. “I’m organizing a search party. We could use your help.”
“But Rose?”
“She went to look for him at Doc’s house. That’s where your brother and his family are, too.”
Seth shook off the sheriff. “I’ll be back.” He ran to Patches and headed for the Kelloggs’ home, his mind unable to accept the sheriff’s words. Alf, missing? How could that be? Rose was always so careful with him. How could he disappear in the midst of so many people?
His heart splintered with the admission he could only now permit into his consciousness. He should have been here. Not at the ranch indulging his doubts, not escaping into the land and not ignoring the hold Alf and Rose had on him. He stifled the sob catching in his throat. What kind of man turns his back? God, forgive me, I should’ve been here.
Without pausing to knock, he burst into the house, stopping at the parlor door, his mind nearly unable to take in the scene before him: Lily, crying softly, stood in a corner, pressing Mattie’s face into her skirt; Caleb nestled Lily to him, his jaw working; and Doc slumped in a chair, his head in his hands. However, Seth scarcely registered any of them for the pathetic tableau of Rose, cradled in Bess Stanton’s arms, her face mottled and streaked with tears.
“I came as soon as I could.” His words mocked him with their impotence. He had never felt more the intruder than in this moment. Caleb moved toward him, while the others simply stared at him. “Is Alf here? Do you have any idea where—”
“Stop.” His brother’s quiet word was an imperative. “There is something you should know.”
Rose averted her face as Caleb crossed the room to retrieve a soiled piece of paper. Doc looked up at Seth and merely shook his head in an unspoken message of sympathy. Caleb clapped an arm around his shoulder, as if to brace him for what was to come, and then, without a word, handed him the piece of paper. I KUM FER ALF. MY BOY AGIN.
Rage, helplessness, despair—an eddy of emotion swept over him, so powerful it threatened to send him to his knees. He had never before been so thankful for his brother’s strong presence. Hardly able to process the crude message, he found himself crossing the room and kneeling in front of Rose. “I am so sorry.”
As if his words had roused her from some faraway place, she lifted her face to stare at him as if she’d never seen him before. “My fault,” she said in a monotone. “I should’ve kept him with me.”
Ezra spoke then, his slumped shoulders squaring with resolve. “No, Rose, no. You can’t blame yourself. All of us were there, too.”
Seth hung his head. Except for me, except for me.
Ezra continued. “If Alf’s mother—and we certainly hope it was his mother—was determined to snatch him away, she would’ve found an opportunity somehow. It will be important to learn if we’re dealing with a parent or someone more sinister. All we can do now is depend on the search party and pray.”
“No!” The force of Rose’s one word set Seth back on his heels. “No, I’m through praying. A God who could take Alf from me is too cruel.”
Lily joined Seth in front of her sister. “Then we will do the praying for you. Grieve as you must, but don’t lose hope. Don’t ever lose hope.”
Seth stood and backed away. “Rose, we will find him. I promise.”
Even as he uttered that pledge, his heart sank. If Alf truly was with his mother, how could he—or anyone—wrest him away?
“I’ll come along,” Caleb said, then turned to Ezra and asked to borrow his horse.
Ezra rose and came to the two men, placing a hand on the shoulder of each. “God be with you,” he whispered.
As he waited impatiently for Caleb to saddle his mount, Seth seethed. How could God be with them? It was pretty clear He was with whoever it was that skulked away in the night with the dearest of boys and not with Rose, whose whole being had been shattered by that act.
Even after midnight, he rode, although most of the others had given up the search. He combed the stream beds for footprints, looked for a swath of bent prairie grass, climbed the highest hill to search the horizon for movement—all in vain. As if the earth had swallowed him up, Alf was gone. Finally, drenched in sweat, Seth slumped over Patches’s neck and gave in to despair.
Caleb, who had trailed him all the way, giving him the distance he needed, rode up beside him and laid a hand on his heaving back. He waited for Seth’s paroxysm of grief to pass and then spoke. “You have always been full of love, brother. You set me the example. Sometimes, though, like now, love hurts. And sometimes it even seems as if God has abandoned us.” Caleb’s voice trailed off, and Seth wondered if his brother was remembering the unmerciful conditions of his service in the Civil War and his participation in the Battle of the Washita River. “But I am here to tell you that God is with us in our struggles and pain. He is with you now. Don’t ever forget it.” Then Caleb turned his horse and galloped into the night, leaving Seth sitting astride Patches staring at the moonlit landscape stretching out endlessly before him. I should’ve been there.
* * *
“Ezra, leave everything to me.” Lavinia’s tone was one that brooked no argument. “I will be in charge.”
Rose tried to swim up from the depths of the dark sea holding her in its grip. Her head felt heavy on the pillow. She couldn’t imagine why Aunt Lavinia was in their house bossing her father around. A dream? She felt something beneath her fingers—the edge of a blanket? She struggled to open her eyes, but they refused her bidding. So sleepy. Wasn’t she supposed to be doing something? But her consciousness, as if it existed in limbo, refused to consider the question. Then she was once more dragged into the depths.
A bird pecking at her window was the next sound she heard, followed by the sensation of a presence standing nearby. This time she succeeded in opening her eyes, nearly blinded now by the glare of the sun on her face. Quickly she closed them again, but in that instant of vision she thought she had seen a woman, a familiar woman. She tried to speak, but h
er throat was too dry to form the words.
“Rose, don’t try to talk. I’ll fetch you some water.”
Had it been Bess? Lily? She couldn’t tell. Why were her limbs useless? Her mind so bleary? She relaxed against the mattress and wished herself back into the blackness.
“Here, drink this.” Rose felt someone raising her up and holding a cup to her lips. She took a sip, grateful for the coolness of the water, then took another and another. “Your father gave you a sleeping potion. That’s why you’re so thirsty.”
It was Bess helping her drink. Rose licked her lips and croaked out, “Why?”
“You were distraught, my dear. Sleep knits up the raveled sleave of care, as Shakespeare tells us.”
Distraught? Raveled sleave of care? Rose batted the cup away. There was something vital she must remember. She struggled to recall that something. Turning her head, she tried to focus her vision. Then she saw it. Alf’s trundle. All made up. His stick horse lying across the blanket. Then she heard, as if from a great distance, her own voice keening in terrified recognition. “Alf!”
Immediately, she felt Bess lowering her into the down of the pillow and placing a cool cloth on her forehead. “Shh, there’ll be time later for that. Sleep, Rose, sleep.”
When she awoke again, Rose figured it was late afternoon because the east-facing room was in shadows. Once again she tried to focus her mind, to remember the reason she lay in her bed instead of preparing supper in the kitchen. She shoved herself to a sitting position and studied Alf’s bed. Where was the boy? Was she sick? Is that why he wasn’t cuddled next to her?
Then, as if lightning had sparked inside her skull, awareness returned. Alf, her beloved boy, was gone. Someone had taken him. His mother? She struggled from the bed, her hair streaming down her back, her bare feet cold against the floor. She had to do something. She stumbled down the hallway into the kitchen. Bess rushed to her side to support her. Her father sat at the table and Aunt Lavinia stood commandingly by the door. “Where is he?” Maybe they hadn’t heard her, so she shrieked her question again. “Where is he?”
Her father raised red-rimmed eyes to her and said in a forlorn voice, “Oh, Rose.”
Aunt Lavinia, however, marched right up to her. “Rose, you must get hold of yourself. Your boy has been kidnapped, probably by his mother. Do you remember?”
Moaning, Rose sank against Bess. The note. I kum fer Alf. My boy agin. She shook her head frantically. “No, no!”
Lavinia was unyielding. “Denial will serve no purpose, my dear. Now that you’ve slept, you must eat something and let us care for you. Grief has its own manner and time, and we will respect that. If there is anything to be done to ascertain Alf’s whereabouts, rest assured, it will be done.”
As if moving under the hand of a master puppeteer, Rose allowed herself to be ushered back to the bedroom, where Bess washed her face, dressed her in a clean shift and coiled her hair into a bun. “Live, Rose. Live. That’s what we must do, with God’s help.”
Rose only briefly reflected on Bess’s widowhood and her presence at the side of so many dying soldiers, before she whispered the only words she had left. “I don’t know how to live without Alf, and as for God’s help, where is He now?”
Bess looked at her with sad, knowing eyes. “With you, dearest, with you. And with your precious Alf.”
Rose felt the emptiness gnawing at her. “If only I could believe that were so.” It would be all she could do to put one foot in front of the other and endure the passing of the minutes, hours and days ahead, much less turn to the God who had abandoned her.
* * *
When Seth finally rode into the ranch barnyard after a sleepless night on the prairie, he found no comfort in the smells of hay and horseflesh or in the sturdy limestone house he had helped build. It was as if a permanent gray cloud had settled over all he had worked so hard to create. It was said one could find solace in hard work. He doubted it, but toil was all that could keep him from rash actions he might come to regret. Murder would be too good for whoever had crushed Rose’s spirit and had stolen Alf away from the home in which he was thriving.
He stabled Patches and stomped toward the house, pausing to strip to the waist and wash up before going into Sophie’s kitchen, where, no doubt, he would have to endure her reaction to the events of the previous evening.
The aroma of fried potatoes and salt pork drew him inside where Sophie stood, her back to him, stirring the contents of the skillet. His father was noticeably absent. “Where’s Pa?”
Sophie turned to face him, her eyes soft with concern. “Out looking for you. He knows how much you care for Alf.”
Seth slumped into a seat at the table. “Sorry if I worried you or Pa.”
“We understand. You needed to be part of the search.” Then as if she already knew the answer, she asked, “Any leads?”
He shook his head. Leads? The boy had vanished, simple as that.
Sophie poured him a cup of coffee and then dished up the potatoes. “You must be starved. Eat while it’s hot.”
He had thought he wouldn’t be able to swallow a bite, but hunger took over and he plowed into the food set before him.
“Do you want to talk about it, or are you going to stifle your feelings as usual?” Sophie poured herself a cup of coffee and sat down across from him. “It’s not unmanly to grieve. Discussing your thoughts can help.”
Irritated at her intrusion, he said, “Nothing to discuss.”
“Balderdash! I’m your sister and you’re not fooling me for one moment with that strong, silent type pose. You’re hurting, Seth. I know I can’t change things for you, but I can listen. Go on, what’s eating at you besides the fact that Alf is gone?”
He picked up his cup and drank deeply, all the time eyeing Sophie over the rim. He didn’t want to admit his guilt in front of another human being, even one as close as his sister. Yet, setting down the cup, he knew the confession was too corrosive to contain within himself. He couldn’t look at Sophie, didn’t deserve the compassion pooling in her eyes. “I should’ve been there,” he mumbled, staring down at the plate of congealing potatoes. “God help me, I should’ve been there.”
Sophie studied him, letting several moments pass. “Perhaps. Hindsight tends to cause us all to question our actions. In truth, would your presence have made any difference? The children were being well cared for. Rose checked on the boy throughout the day. He and Mattie seemed to be having a great time. Would your vigilance have been any greater than that of all the rest of us? The abduction undoubtedly occurred in the blink of an eye. Perhaps Alf recognized his captor and didn’t cry out. It happened, Seth. Now it’s up to the sheriff to resolve the situation.”
“How can I possibly sit by and let time pass?”
“Because you have to. Just like you had to go on each day taking care of Baby Sophie and becoming a parent to Caleb at an age when you should have been carefree. We go on, Seth, doing what we can, what is needed.”
He moved the now-soggy potatoes around on his plate. “I love that boy.”
Sophie smiled with sadness. “We all know that. We saw it in your actions.”
A fly buzzed inside the window, and in the distance, one of the ranch dogs barked. “I guess I’m not meant to have children, even if they’re not mine.”
“Nonsense. You have Mattie who adores you. And one day you will marry and have some of your own. For right now, though, there’s one thing you can do.”
He raised his head. “And what would that be?”
“You can be a comfort and a support for Rose, who must be devastated. If you’re feeling guilty for not being at the camp meeting, think what a burden she must be assuming? You may be the only person with whom she might be able to share that burden.”
Seth’s immediate reaction was rejection of Sophie’s advice. How c
ould he bare his soul to Rose and incur her blame for his absence from the camp meeting? Yet, the last thing he wanted was for her to shoulder the responsibility. They had all failed, everyone who should have been watching and who should have realistically been on guard against someone reclaiming Alf.
Sophie rose from the table, ran her hands through her unruly curls and broke four eggs into another skillet. “I’ll reheat the potatoes and have eggs ready for you in bit. You can’t be effective if you’re starving.”
He watched her preparations, trying to relax into the normalcy of the scene, but he couldn’t. Sophie had given him not only breakfast, but food for thought. One thing about his sister, she never hesitated to speak her mind.
When she piled the food on his plate, he was once more able to eat. He was sopping up egg yolks with a piece of bread when Sophie delivered her ultimatum. “Get some rest today, clean yourself up and ride into town first thing in the morning. You and Rose should talk, sooner rather than later.”
He shied away from the thought, but in his heart he knew that as a man, it was what needed to happen. Anything else was hiding, and that he wouldn’t do.
Walking out to the barn after breakfast, he met his father riding in from his search. Andrew dismounted, patted his horse and turned to Seth. “I’m glad you’re home, son. I was worried when I couldn’t locate you.”
“I needed some time after the chase to think.”
“You’re mighty partial to that little boy.”
Seth shrugged. There were no words for his sense of loss.
“While I was out looking for you, I saw the sheriff, already at his office early this morning. He is questioning Mattie and the other children and sending out a telegraph to the authorities in surrounding counties. Maybe we’ll at least learn of the boy’s whereabouts and well-being.”