The Gift of a Child

by Laura Abbot

  Chapter Twelve

  Despite the sweltering heat, Rose and Lily had had a busy day, canning the last of the season’s tomatoes and baking the stollen Ezra favored. In the upstairs bedroom she shared with Mattie, Rose packed her valise in preparation for her morning return to Cottonwood Falls. She took down her hair and slipped into a lightweight nightgown, grateful for the cooler September nights. Before she climbed into bed, she stood observing Mattie, one little fist tucked under her chin, her long eyelashes closed in slumber. Rose wrapped her arms around her waist to hold in an involuntary sob. How often she had stood just so over Alf’s trundle bed, glorying in the sight of her dear boy? Although this time with Lily’s family had been therapeutic, it had not for one moment assuaged her sense of loss. Life would go on. Somehow it always did. But nothing would ever be the same.

  Lying on her back in bed, unable to sleep, Rose fixed her gaze on the moon, wondering if somewhere that same moon shone down on Alf. Although she’d turned her back on the church, there was still one prayer she uttered every night before sleep took over. Tonight was no exception. Dear God, wherever Alf is and whomever he is with, bestow on him the gift of love. May he always know that a woman in Cottonwood Falls loves him very much.

  Finally, caressed by the night breezes and spent from the day’s labors, she succumbed to sleep. Dreams flitted in and out of her awareness. In one, a happy boy trotted around the lawn on a stick horse while a big man and a smaller woman looked on with pride and joy. In another, though, a woman with unkempt long hair and talonlike nails grabbed a child from her arms, cackling with triumph. As if grappling with a restless spirit, Rose woke up, her heart pounding with the knowledge she was powerless. Gradually, she adjusted her eyes to the darkness. Everything was normal. Mattie was still sound asleep, the house was quiet and the gentle breeze brought comfort. Rose felt consumed by restlessness.

  Gathering a light robe around her, she tiptoed down the stairs, eased open the front door and curled up in one of the rockers. The night was luminescent and laden with the fragrances of growing things. Ordinarily she would have had every reason to be at peace in these surroundings. Peace...the illusive balm that never came. She sat there a long time, caught up in the night sounds and her own wayward thoughts. The Creator who made this beautiful world would surely never turn His back on a child He had also created.

  A shift in wind direction brought with it a new sound, inconsistent with the night’s tranquility. A rhythmic clopping noise, far away and yet drawing closer with each breath she took. Horses. Voices. She rose to her feet, aware that night riders were either outlaws or harbingers of ill tidings. Papa? Had some accident befallen him? Behind her she heard the clatter of footsteps, and Caleb burst onto the porch, a rifle clutched in his hands, trailed by Lily, tying the sash of her wrapper. “Shh,” Caleb whispered. “Get inside and lock yourselves in.”

  Lily grabbed her arm, drew her inside and latched the door. The two women huddled together, fearing the worst and hoping for the best. Caleb remained silent as the hoofbeats grew louder and louder. After what seemed an eternity, Caleb rapped on the door and said, “Come on out. It’s Seth and Sheriff Jensen.” Simultaneously the women expelled the sighs they’d been holding in. They crept back onto the porch, knowing that the two men, though familiar, could still be the bearers of unpleasant news.

  Seth waved his hat before he dismounted, and after hitching their mounts to fence posts, the two walked rapidly toward the house. “The sheriff has possible news of Alf,” Seth shouted.

  Rose sagged against her sister, unable to read Seth’s expression. Could this be the good news they’d been praying for or something sinister? Caleb ushered the group into the house. The men remained standing, but Lily and Rose sank onto the love seat. Rose dared a peek at Seth, willing him to give her a shred of hope. He nodded briefly, but his expression conveyed nothing. Nearly overcome with anxiety, she clenched her fists and waited for the sheriff to speak.

  After what seemed an eternity, he looked straight at her and said quietly, “We have reason to believe we have found your Alf.”

  A hundred rampaging questions flooded her mind: Was he alive? Was he safe? Who had taken him? Could he be returned to her?

  “Currently he is being well cared for by the sheriff’s wife up in Council Grove. That’s the good news. However, he has witnessed a heinous crime.”

  Taut with anticipation, Rose listened with the others while the sheriff told of the strangulation death of the Indian woman who claimed to be Alf’s mother at the hands of an army deserter who admitted to fathering the boy. Faint with relief and concern for Alf, Rose saw spots swimming before her eyes and lowered her head to her knees. Quickly, Lily knelt beside her. “Take a deep breath, Rose.” Caleb got her a glass of water. “Drink,” Lily murmured.

  Finally regaining her senses, Rose sat up, limp with emotion. Then in that deep voice she recognized so well, Seth said, “I believe this is good news, Rose. When you are able, I propose we go to Council Grove to make a positive identification.”

  Unbidden, a rush of fear clouded Rose’s thinking. “I’m afraid to hope.” She rose to her feet and faced the sheriff. “How can we know this is our Alf and not some other boy?”

  “You are right, Miss Kellogg, to exercise caution, lest your hopes be dashed. We cannot know with certainty until we see the boy. That is why I hope you can make the trip.”

  “I would cross any ocean to be with Alf.”

  “As would I,” Seth added.

  The sheriff clapped his hat back on his head. “Well, that’s settled. I propose we leave as early in the morning as you two can get to my office. It will be best to travel in the cool of the day.”

  Seth moved to Rose and took her hands in his. “I will bring the buggy shortly after dawn.”

  Rose looked up into Seth’s warm hazel eyes, reading there his love for the boy. “I will be ready.”

  The sheriff started toward the door, then turned back to face them. “Oh, one other thing. Do you know anything about a large agate? The Morris County sheriff says the boy has the marble with him constantly.”

  Rose fell against Seth’s broad chest, laughing and crying all at the same time. “Lavinia’s agate! Oh, Seth, it has to be Alf, doesn’t it?”

  Lily approached the two. “It’s a very good sign, Rose. Thanks be to God.” Then, easing Rose from Seth’s protective embrace, Lily led her from the room. “You must rest. The journey tomorrow demands it.”

  Rose allowed herself to be escorted upstairs and tucked into bed by her sister. Before Lily leaned over to kiss her forehead, Rose heard her whisper. “You see, all things in God’s good time.”

  Long after Lily had left the room, Rose lay smiling, marveling that so much could change in one day’s time. Then a more unsettling thought surfaced. In that moment of happy revelation it was to Seth she had turned, not Lily. And it was there she had, at last, found strength.

  * * *

  The next morning, holding the reins loosely in his hands, Seth watched the twenty-two miles of countryside to Council Grove roll by at what seemed a snail’s pace. Sheriff Jensen, mounted, led the way and the buggy horse followed docilely along. Beside Seth, Rose sat, her fingers intertwined, staring resolutely ahead. Neither of them had gotten much sleep, but so electrified by possibility were they, that dozing to the lulling rhythm of the buggy ride was unthinkable.

  “What if it’s not Lavinia’s agate?”

  Seth stewed. Rose had just asked the question plaguing him as well. Any number of other explanations occurred to him. Agates were not uncommon, so any boy might have one similar to Alf’s. Or have found the marble at some random place. Yet there remained the fact of the dual parentage the sheriff had described. Shuddering at the thought of the crime that had been committed, Seth laid a hand over Rose’s balled fists to reassure her. “Time will tell. For now, let’s keep the faith.”
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  “I’m trying.” They rode for several minutes, and then Rose moved one cold hand to cover his warm one. “Faith. I wonder. We’ve been pretty hard on God, haven’t we?” She looked up with a wistful smile. “Especially if our prayer for Alf’s safety has been answered.”

  “We’ve talked about God’s timing. Patience is a lesson I’d rather have learned some other way.”

  “Even if the boy is Alf, how do I know the Morris County sheriff will release him to me?”

  Uncannily, she was voicing yet another of his concerns. “I can’t believe that fellow and his wife will want to keep the boy indefinitely. And if it is Alf, he will take one look at you, and no one will question where he belongs.”

  Rose nodded, then withdrew into herself for a mile or two. Later, out of the blue, she said, “I want to adopt him legally.”

  Seth grinned. “Why is that no surprise? It’s prudent, as well. For all intents and purposes, especially if his father is convicted of murder, the boy is an orphan. No one who has seen the two of you together would question the appropriateness of such an adoption.”

  She nearly bounced on the seat beside him. “Can’t this wagon move any faster?”

  “Old Nellie’s doing her best.”

  Rose pulled a couple of ham sandwiches from her bag and handed him one. “I don’t know if I can swallow, but I suppose it’s best to take nourishment.”

  Seth took a generous bite, realizing his stomach had been growling for quite some time. In his haste to get away this morning, he’d grabbed only a couple of biscuits and headed to the barn. “Mighty tasty,” he said. “But what else would I expect from a cook like you?”

  Unable to finish hers, Rose wrapped the crusts back up and stashed them in her bag. “It’s still a puzzlement where to find God in the bad things that happen.”

  Seth didn’t know whether he should reveal his conversation with Caleb, but surely he could convey the essence of it. “I’ve been stewing about that question. Maybe we’re not supposed to be able to justify things like my mother’s untimely death, the devastation of war or the abduction of a child. Perhaps there’s no accounting for the fact that we’re human beings, subject to everything that entails. You know, Caleb helped me with my questions.”

  Rose glanced up, her posture one of attention. “How?”

  “We’re all eager to thank God for the blessings in our lives, but too hasty in our helplessness to place blame. Caleb spoke of the horrors he witnessed in battle—atrocities that challenged his faith. But he also spoke of the valor and compassion he observed in the most desperate of circumstances that proved to him that God is with us. Quite simply, He is with us through the kind and courageous acts of our fellows.”

  Rose took his hand in hers, studying it as if thereon commandments had been inscribed. “Seth Montgomery, I do believe that’s the longest and most eloquent speech I’ve ever heard from you.”

  Seth could feel the flush rising from his neck to his face.

  She patted his hand and withdrew hers into her lap. “It’s also the most helpful. Thank you.”

  Engaged in their deep conversation, they had failed to notice clustered farmhouses and, in the distance, the spire of a church.

  Sheriff Jensen wheeled his horse and came alongside the buggy. “Won’t be too long now. We’ll go straight to the sheriff’s office and then on to his home for the identification.” Before he retook the lead, he doffed his hat to Rose. “Miss Kellogg, I’m praying for you and your boy.”

  Seth swallowed the lump in his throat. “See, Rose? That’s the sort of kindness that shows us we’re not alone. God sometimes speaks to us through others—through folks like Jensen.”

  “I need his prayers,” Rose said softly. “And yours.”

  “They are the least I can give to you.” He found himself unable to speak from that point on, his heart too full of concern for this woman and hope for her future.

  * * *

  The afternoon sun bore down unmercifully, and Rose was grateful for the bonnet that shaded her eyes. Ordinarily she would’ve taken in the scene of the famous Council Oak that gave the town its name, but all her attention was focused on the sign in front of a clapboard structure on a corner of the main street: Sheriff’s Office, Morris County, Kansas.

  Wilting with heat and expectation, she took Seth’s hand when he helped her from the buggy and led her into the small, sparse office adjacent to the annex housing jail cells. A tall man wearing a cowboy hat and sporting a bushy red beard came out from behind his desk, the silver of the star on his chest glinting in a shaft of sunlight. “I’m Sheriff Riley. You must be Miss Kellogg,” he said, extending his hand.

  “I am, and this is my friend Seth Montgomery, and of course you know Lars Jensen.”

  “Have a seat, miss, and we’ll get right to business.” He reclaimed his desk chair after directing the others to the three available wooden chairs.

  Dizzy with expectation, Rose clutched her bag, willing the sheriff to act with expediency.

  “We understand that you found a half-breed boy in your barn several months ago and took him into your home.”

  “Yes.” She cleared her throat. “Yes. Alf. There was a note with him.” She repeated the note’s brief contents. “I took it as a sign that I was to care for him.”

  “Could you please describe the boy?”

  She did the best she could to draw a mental portrait for the man. When she finished, he did not look up but studied several papers in front of him.

  “Why would someone leave him with you? Have you any suspicions about who would do such a thing?”

  “I have no idea who was involved. However, the note left after he was taken from the camp meeting would suggest it was one of his parents. As for why he would’ve been left with me, the only reason I can deduce is the fact my father is a doctor. Perhaps that seemed a sign the boy would be in good hands.”

  “Possibly,” Sheriff Riley muttered. “Did the child take to you and your father?”

  Seth interjected himself. “She and Dr. Kellogg could not have been more welcoming or done more for the boy. He is devoted to them both.”

  “Thank you,” Riley said without looking up. He shuffled his paper work. “Are you willing to take over temporary care of the boy?”

  “Not only that, I plan to adopt him.”

  The sheriff’s head snapped up. “Adopt him?”

  “I know what you’re thinking. The fact that the boy is a half-breed is immaterial, as is the fact that I am unmarried. He is bright, engaging and in need of a loving home. Not only is it my God-given duty to care for him, it will be the great blessing of my life.”

  “Could you describe the marble the boy refuses to relinquish?”

  “It is a black, white and gray agate given to him by his great-aunt Lavinia Dupree. He treasures it.”

  Riley turned to Sheriff Jensen. “Do you have anything to add, Jensen?”

  “I think the specifics of Miss Kellogg’s involvement with the boy are clear. I would add that I, as well as other folks in Cottonwood Falls, have observed her devotion to the boy and the way he has thrived in her care.”

  “Well, then,” Riley rose to his feet, “all that remains is to take you to my home where Polly, my wife, has been tending to him. However, I must warn you, that the boy undoubtedly witnessed his mother’s death and you may find him perhaps different from the child you remember. His mother had been working as a kitchen maid at a local saloon, living in a shack behind the premises. The owner and patrons often noticed a ragged-looking little boy with jet black hair trailing her about. On the evening in question, a drunken man burst into the tavern demanding to know the whereabouts of his wife and child, describing them accurately. When the proprietor tried to eject him, he created a scene, grabbed a bottle of whiskey sitting on the bar and lurched out into the
night cursing God and everyone else. Apparently in the wee hours after consuming even more liquor, he found the woman and child in their lodgings and in a rage, strangled her.”

  With every nerve in her body, Rose longed to clap her hands over her ears and blot out the sheriff’s voice.

  “We found her body the next morning after one of the local residents noticed the boy wandering down the street crying and calling for someone named E-nah. Later we found the father in an alley near the livery stable, passed out cold. He is currently in custody and has been indicted for murder. As you can well understand, the child has undergone a horrific experience. I apologize for having to give you these sordid details, but if, as I expect, the boy at my house is your Alf, I felt you needed the background.”

  Rose stood then, more determined than ever to get to Alf. “I appreciate your candor. No matter into what state my Alf has fallen, I hope to restore his confidence in those who love him.” Seth took her arm and escorted her to the buggy. On the short drive to the Rileys’ home, he said only three words. “Good for you.”

  Despite the rapid beating of her heart as they walked up to the house, Rose felt enveloped by a God-given calm. A tiny woman with frizzy gray hair opened the door, her simple navy dress adorned only by a gold cross hanging from her neck. “Welcome. I’m Polly Riley. I pray we may be the agents of good news for you.” She stood aside for them to enter and then led them into the kitchen.

  Laying two hands on Rose’s shoulder, she turned her toward the far corner. There hunkered on the floor, his back to them, was her Alf, moving wooden blocks in helter-skelter fashion.

  With tear-laden eyes, she looked at Mrs. Riley, who, with a compassionate smile, nodded permission. With the men crowded silently in the doorway, Rose made her way to the boy, praying with every step. Reaching him, she knelt down and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Alf?”