Fragile Blessings

by Susan M. Baganz

  “You’ve never told me that before. I nearly forgot about that day.”

  “I also remember you later winning at roping and then brazenly bringing me that rose. You never said a word, but your eyes spoke volumes to my heart.”

  “I still can’t believe you chose me over Richard, though. He has a far greater earning capacity and his business is secure. You could have had a far more comfortable life with him.”

  Lily smiled. “I really couldn’t imagine being married to the area’s undertaker. I felt that if God led me to you, then He would make it all work out, somehow. I’ve never regretted the decision.”

  “I feel bad about leaving you here for a few days.”

  Lily glanced down at her hands enveloped in his. “It will force me to engage more when I can’t hide behind you. Your sisters are surely not going let me spend much time in our room if you are not here with me. They seem to think we are still newlyweds.” Lily blushed.

  Grant smiled broadly and lifted a hand up to push a few hairs away that had once again fallen in her face. He leaned forward to whisper in her ear, “I hope we will always be that, sweetheart.” He kissed her. “We are alone, and I’m going to be away from you for three whole days. Do you think, maybe...?”

  Lily lifted her hands to caress his face on both sides and leaned up for a kiss. “I’ll make you wish you had never left me for even an hour.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  The journey back to Hillsboro was uneventful. There was a light snowfall, but the temperatures stayed mild. Once back at the cottage, Grant checked the cattle and spoke with the hired hand that stopped by to milk the cows and take care of the feeding.

  Garrett had managed to get some coffee made by the time Grant returned to the house. “Pretty rough living here compared to back at home, brother.”

  Grant shrugged. “It suits us.”

  “You could have been so much more.”

  Grant turned to touch his brother’s arm. “More than what?”

  “More than”—he scanned the room—“this.”

  “I am more than this. I am a servant of God, and He called me here for some reason. I’m not meant for suits and ties. I’m a man of the land. I work with my hands. I love the wide open spaces, the bluffs, the trees, seeing God’s glory in the sunrise and His power in the storms. This, dear brother, is who I am.”

  Garrett grinned. “I know.” He walked over to sit by the fire. “I guess part of me is jealous.”

  “Why would you be jealous of a life you disdain?”

  “It’s not a life for me, but I do not disdain it for you.” He sipped some of the coffee. “I’m jealous of the confidence you have in God’s call on your life. I’ve never experienced that kind of certainty. Sometimes, as I work, I wonder. Am I really making a difference for the kingdom?”

  “You helped three orphaned children become a part of a Christian home.”

  “That’s nothing. You are the one who took them in and sacrificially provide for them.”

  Grant was silent as he considered his brother. “Do you doubt your salvation?”

  Garrett shook his head. “No. I pray and I read the Bible and I try to do what it says. Not an easy thing when in the line of work I am in.” He chuckled. “But I never heard God specifically tell me to do anything. I ask. I plead. I get nothing.”

  “God rarely speaks to me, Garrett, other than to tell me things in His word. Sometimes, it’s an impression I get deep inside. A conviction of what I need to do. I pray and often find that He forces me to take risks I would never take on my own.”

  “I guess that makes sense. You always were more of a Momma’s boy. I was surprised that you would be the one to travel so far from home. Father wanted you in the family business, working at running the mill. But as good as you were with numbers, you would have nothing to do with it.”

  “Getting good grades in school is not akin to loving working with numbers.”

  “Then there was Lorna.”

  Grant groaned and closed his eyes. “Please, let’s not go there.”

  “No, let’s. If you had married her, you would have been set for life. You could give money right and left to the church and missionaries. But for some reason, you stopped your courtship of her and up and decided to head southeast on an adventure.”

  “I had prayed about Lorna. I really did like her, and she was pretty, but there was no peace in my spirit about spending the rest of my life with her. I was not meant to be a society fixture. My future with her felt—bleak.” Grant sighed. “She pressured me to propose, and I bolted. Probably the most cowardly thing I’ve ever done. I saddled my horse and rode like the wind. I didn’t know where I was going, but asked the Lord to lead me. This is where I ended up. Right on this spot of land. I camped here across from that big bluff and felt like God was telling me this was home.”

  “I wonder what would have happened if I’d explored beyond our little county.”

  “You might still have become a lawyer.”

  “Perhaps.”

  “How about we cook up some grub and hit the sack. Who knows what tomorrow holds for us?”

  “You even learned to cook out here?”

  “You’d be surprised the things I’ve learned since coming here. I will confess, though, that Lily makes a much better meal than I ever could.”

  The next morning, Garrett joined Grant in the barn to do the chores and to try his hand at farming. Both men were armed.

  After completing the work, Garret and Grant sat down to a simple lunch. Before they were finished, the sound of horses’ hooves warned them someone was coming up the path.

  “Well, it seems our company has arrived at last.” Garrett wiped his mouth on his sleeve and tapped his gun in the holster as he rose.

  “You seem a bit more eager for action than I am, but let’s get this settled.” Grant stood and grabbed his coat and hat. He headed for the door with Garrett on his heels.

  They were both standing in front of the house with their arms crossed as the three horses pulled up. Two were pulling a carriage, and Sheriff Banks rode the other.

  “Good day, gentlemen,” said the sheriff as he dismounted. “Fine weather for December.” He ambled up to stand before Grant.

  “Hello, Sheriff. Good day to you as well. May I introduce my brother, Garrett Anderson, Attorney at Law.”

  “Pleased to meet you.”

  Garrett shook his hand. “Pleasure to meet one of the fine men who do their best to help make sure the laws are upheld.”

  Sheriff Banks nodded his head and cleared his throat as two men strode up from the carriage.

  “Mr. Grant Anderson and Mr. Garrett Anderson, it seems that these fine gentleman from Kansas City came for something they claim to be theirs.”

  The two gentlemen strode forward. “I’m Mr. Tiddle, and this is my client, Mr. O’Neill. We are here for the children.”

  “The children?” Garrett asked softly.

  “Yes, the O’Neill children. The ones left orphaned almost two months past now,” Mr. O’Neill spoke up. “They are my kin.”

  Grant remained silent as all eyes focused on him. His face revealed nothing.

  “O’Neill children? Garrett, when inquiries were made, was there any will to be found or any documents that would lead you to believe that anyone had claim to any O’Neill children?”

  “No. There was no provision made for the children, and there was some question as to the authenticity of the marriage itself as it could not be verified.”

  “Really?” Grant was surprised. “Interesting. So the O’Neill children may not be O’Neills?”

  “Correct. They may be Harris children, but no family from that branch of the tree was willing to come forward to claim them.” Garrett folded his arms.

  “Could we go inside to discuss this?” asked the sheriff.

  “Sorry for my poor hospitality, but we didn’t clean up from our lunch yet, and the house is in a bit of a mess an’ all with the wife gone.”

&n
bsp; “Mrs. Anderson is not here?” The sheriff frowned. “How disappointing. Your wife bakes the best pies in these here parts.” He rubbed his belly.

  “Thank you, Sheriff, I will be happy to pass along your compliment,” Grant said with a grin. “I’m kind of partial to her pies myself.” He patted his flat stomach.

  “Where are the children? Enough stalling. It’s cold out here.” Mr. O’Neill spoke in clipped tones.

  “My children are with my wife and family.” Grant’s tone was edged with steel.

  “We told you we were coming for the children. You were to hand them over,” Mr. Tiddle said.

  “I telegraphed you that the children were legally adopted and not at your disposal. You wasted your time traveling here.”

  “My paperwork says otherwise.” Mr. Banks pulled out some papers and waved them in the air. Before they could go much further, Garrett grabbed them.

  “Hey!” yelped Mr. Banks. “Those are not yours.”

  “Legal papers are in my province, Mr. Banks, as I represent Mr. Anderson and his family in this matter.” Garrett opened up the papers and began to skim the contents. Mr. Tiddle and Mr. O’Neill fidgeted and gave each other nervous glances. Grant was on the alert.

  “Sheriff, we expect you to do what’s right here,” Mr. O’Neill said.

  “Listen here.” Sheriff Banks turned slowly to face the two gentlemen. “Mr. Anderson is a well-respected citizen of this community. If they hadn’t taken in those children, that baby would be dead, for sure. They are in a much better place now than they were when the O’Neills were alive.” He bent his head and crossed his heart. “God rest their souls.” He looked up again. “What are you going to do to provide for those children? I didn’t see you bringing a nanny and wet nurse with you to collect them.”

  “Wet nurse?” Mr. O’Neill took a small step back. “Why would we need a wet nurse? The children are old enough not to need one.”

  The Sheriff nodded his head and smiled. “So how many children were you planning to collect Mr. O’Neill?”

  “Two. The girl and boy, although really, all we want is the boy. He is the heir to the estate.”

  Grant snorted. “Heir? To what? The O’Neills lived in fetid squalor. The children were beaten and unwanted, and Mr. O’Neill was notorious for his drinking habits. He had no money. And, for your information, there are three children. Can you name them if you are such close kin?”

  Garrett glanced up from the papers. “Good point there, Mr. Anderson. Can you name the children?”

  Mr. O’Neill fidgeted as he put his hands up to his mouth to blow warmth on them, the steam rising out of his mouth as he did so in the cool December air. “Let me see, the girl, she would be Bridget, after her mother, and the boy would be Daniel, after his father. You are bluffing about the third child.” The man smiled as if he believed he had passed the test.

  Grant shook his head. The sheriff stared incredulously at Mr. O’Neill, “I think you came a long way for nothing. There hasn’t been any Daniel and Bridget O’Neill in these parts that I’m aware of.

  “The baby, Mr. O’Neill, was it a boy or girl, and what did they name it?” Grant asked. Mr. O’Neill started rocking on his heels, and his hands slowly moved down to his side.

  “Enough of this. I came for the children, and I want them now.” He pulled a gun out of his coat and pointed it at Grant’s face, and bringing up his other hand to hold it steady, he cocked it. The silver pistol glistened as the sun hit it, a thing of stark beauty.

  For what seemed a long time, no one moved. “Don’t be foolish, Mr. O’Neill. The children are not the ones you seek, and they are no longer O’Neills. You are not prepared to care for them, even if they were.” Garrett’s voice was soft and low, as if he were cajoling a toddler.

  The gun wavered as the man glanced at Garrett. O’Neill’s eyes narrowed.

  “Mr. O’Neill.” This time, it was Grant who stood unflinchingly, staring down the barrel of the gun. “As I see it, there are two choices here. One. You shoot me. You gain nothing more than a murder charge and time in prison. Two. You walk away from here and never bother my family again, and I will not press charges against you for attempted kidnapping, attempted murder and trespassing.”

  “I am not trespassing.”

  “I believe you are. I specifically told you your errand was wasted, and you persist in badgering me for children that are in no way yours.”

  The gun lowered slowly. The sheriff grabbed the weapon and emptied it of its rounds.

  Garrett handed the papers back to Mr. O’Neill. “I wish you God’s blessing in your search for your family, but you are on a fruitless errand in coming here. If you have any further questions, Mr. Tiddle, you can reach me at this address.” He handed Mr. Tiddle a business card.

  “I would say thank you for your visit today,” Grant ground out, “but for some reason I’m not feeling much gratitude. I will ask you now to leave of my property. However, should you try to return, I will consider you a trespasser and shoot to kill, as is within my rights.” Grant’s right hand went to pull aside his jacket and reveal the holster on his own hip, and he laid his hand lightly on the gun. As if in a mirror, Garrett did the same with his left hand, the two men standing side by side, tall and strong, and appearing more and more like the twins they weren’t.

  “I suggest we leave, Mr. O’Neill, and return to Kansas City to resume our search for your family from there. We’ve obviously been in error.”

  Mr. O’Neill turned on his attorney. “We? You are the one in error. Don’t think I’ll be paying you for this.” The harangue went on as the two made their way back to the carriage.

  “I’m grateful we avoided any bloodshed here,” Sheriff Banks said. “I’ll be making sure they catch their train south.” He tipped his hat. “Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Anderson. Grant, give my regards to your lovely wife and your family. Blessed Christmas to you all.”

  “Thank you, Sheriff. Blessed Christmas to you as well.” Grant stood with his hand still on his holster as the wagon turned in the yard and headed down the path. Mr. O’Neill glared at him, and noting that the men both had their guns at hand, he turned to focus on the dirt road before him. The sheriff mounted and followed the wagon down the path to the main road.

  When the wagon was no longer in sight, both men let their hands drop. Grant raised his hand to cover his face, sliding it down from his forehead to his beard before letting his arm descend to his side.

  Garrett watched him. “Well done, brother. Always the peacemaker. We made it without bloodshed.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  They turned to go inside and reheated the coffee.

  “I would have gladly killed him, Garrett. I didn’t realize such darkness was in me.”

  “Only natural, given the threat. I’m not sure I would have reacted any differently if a gun were pointed at my face. All I could think in that moment was how would I tell Lily you were gone.”

  Grant let out a humph. “Nice to hear you held such confidence in my survival skills.”

  “Face it, Grant, he was nervous, and that was a pretty impressive pistol.”

  “And if God wanted me dead, I would be and thrilled to be in His presence.”

  “But…? “

  “I would hate to see Lily suffer with me gone. I’ve provided well for her, and she’s young and would remarry eventually.” His fist clenched at the thought of any other man having his wife.

  “Is that what you did with your inheritance? Set it up for her in case something happened to you?”

  “Of course I did.”

  “Does she know about this?”

  “No. I’ve never told her. There are a few fights between us, and I don’t want to give her motivation for seeing me dead should we have a big row.” Grant smiled at his brother and they both laughed.

  “I cannot imagine your Lily ever raging at you, Grant. Now my Belinda? Whooo doggie, that girl can fight!” Garrett smiled and shook his head. “Ah, it’s worth it, t
hough, for the way she makes up when it’s over!” Both men laughed but soon sobered.

  “Do you think they’ll be back?” Grant asked.

  “If they are smart, they won’t.”

  “What was in the papers?”

  “Seems the O’Neill children are due an inheritance, but through the firstborn male.”

  “Just not these O’Neill children.”

  “Oh, it was for these former O’Neill children.”

  “But I thought it was for Daniel and Bridget O’Neill’s children?”

  “You didn’t know the O’Neills well I take it?”

  “No. I passed them once or twice in town, but they lived farther afield.”

  “The parents of your children were Daniel, better known as “Butch” O’Neill, and Bridget ‘Gigi’ Harris. They never legally married, probably why they didn’t attend church. Legally, Mr. O’Neill never claimed the children as his. Their birth records burned, so there is no proof of his parentage. You even said that the infant was unnamed because Mr. O’Neill wasn’t even sure it was really his.”

  “So a technicality protects us?”

  “God has already punished them for their sins, but has blessed you for your faithfulness in providing your instant family on the eve of your own loss. Those children realize how much better off they are.”

  Grant smiled. “Simon started calling me Pa within two days of coming here. Colleen has been Lily’s shadow, so eager to learn and help.” Tears came to his eyes, “Tobin has red hair like our son did. Every time I look at him, I remember...” Grant covered his eyes with his hand and let the tears flow. Garrett waited in silence.

  “You’ve never cried for your son before?”

  Grant dragged a handkerchief and wiped his face, his blue eyes reflecting the firelight and his misery. “Lily was so devastated. I was more worried I would lose her. I couldn’t imagine my life without her, Garrett.” He shook his head. “Our son was perfect. So tiny, but perfect. Red hair like me. Ten fingers and toes. So tiny.” He sipped his coffee. “I was powerless to help her. I couldn’t fix it, make it better. I wonder if I had done something different, maybe the baby wouldn’t have died.”