Читать книгу Suddenly A Frontier Father - Lyn Cote - Страница 13

Chapter One

Wisconsin Wilderness

Early September, 1873

Standing on the sunny riverboat deck, Mason Chandler was painfully aware of the intense curiosity of the other passengers. No doubt it did look odd for a man to be traveling with two little girls yet without a woman. Little Birdie stood on his right and Charlotte on his left in their new matching starched blue calico dresses. The tops of their bonneted heads barely reached his belt. If the girls had resembled each other or him, people might have merely assumed that he was a widowed father with two daughters.

Certainly, Charlotte with her light golden-brown hair and green eyes could pass for his child. But Birdie with skin the shade of dark chocolate could not. And of course, there was the other matter, Charlotte’s special problem, that set them apart.

People had stared at them ever since he’d boarded the boat in Illinois. He might as well get used to it. He had no doubt that some of his once-friendly neighbors here in Pepin, Wisconsin, would be shocked and then no doubt cool toward him. What about Miss Jones, the woman who’d answered his newspaper advertisement for a wife?

After corresponding with her for months, he’d proposed to her by letter earlier this year. But he’d been called away to his father’s deathbed and could not be in Pepin in March to marry her as they’d planned. Now it was September. He was six months too late. And his circumstances had changed so dramatically that he had sent her a letter months ago releasing her from their agreement. What else could an honorable man do?

He could only hope that he would have time to get settled in again before he finally met Miss Emma Jones. He hoped to be able to mend the situation. But it was a faint hope. So much had changed.

Well, this wasn’t the first time in his life he’d swum against the current. He placed one arm around each little girl. These two little ones were his now, and he wouldn’t let them down, no matter what.

The crew suddenly began calling to each other and hurrying around, casting the ropes ashore, jumping onto the pier. The steamboat slowed, glided on the sky-blue water and bumped against the dock. Mason picked up his satchel and the small valise that belonged to the girls. And soon they were walking onto the Wisconsin shore.

Though his life had changed, the town looked much the same as it had when he’d left in March. There was a blacksmith, Ashford’s General Store, and a few other stores on Main Street, along with a saloon at the end of town. Now, in early autumn, the street was dusty and the trees were still green, though scarlet edged a few high maple leaves. The blacksmith’s hammer on the anvil pounded clear in the afternoon air.

The little girls huddled close to him. He caught himself as he began to stride normally, and instead he shortened his steps. Before going to his cabin, he needed to buy a few necessary items at the general store but dreaded facing the inquisitive, talkative Mrs. Ashford. Why put it off, though? He led the little girls across the street and up the two steps to the store.

Plump and grandmotherly, Mrs. Ashford met him on the porch. “Mr. Chandler, you’re back.”

“Yes, ma’am. I need—”

“And who are these little girls?”

He was saved from replying when the woman looked over his shoulder and exclaimed, “Miss Jones! Here is your intended, Mason Chandler. He’s come home at last!”

Mason turned. His heart was thumping suddenly and his mouth dry. Miss Emma Jones, the woman he’d hoped to marry, halted just a few paces in front of him. He drank in her appearance. Tall but not too tall. A trim figure. Bright golden curls atop a face so lovely he thought he might be dreaming. Miss Emma Jones was a beauty. His hope of winning her favor bumped down another notch.

Mason shook himself mentally and, after setting down the baggage, descended the two steps again. He bowed politely. “Miss Jones, I’m happy to meet you face-to-face at long last.” An understatement.

“Mr. Chandler.” Her voice devoid of welcome, she offered her gloved hand.

He shook it and held it in both of his. Neither her words nor tone encouraged him. “I apologize again,” he said, forcing out the words, “for my not being here to meet you in March. I’m afraid I had little choice. Still, I wish things were different.”

“The arrangement you made for me to stay with the Ashfords worked out well. They made me very welcome.” She paused to smile at Mrs. Ashford. “I’m sorry about the loss of your father.” She withdrew her hand from his.

He felt his neck heat with embarrassment for holding her hand too long.

“I was just asking Mr. Chandler,” Mrs. Ashford interrupted, “who these little girls are.”

At this moment, Charlotte spoke to Birdie with her hands, as was her way. Birdie replied in kind.

“What’s that they are doing with their hands?” Mrs. Ashford asked.

Mason replied, “This is Charlotte, my little half-sister, and her friend Birdie. Charlotte cannot hear. They speak in sign language.”

“She’s deaf?” Mrs. Ashford’s voice fell. “Oh, the poor little thing. What a judgment.”

“A judgment?” Miss Jones challenged her. “What could a little child have done to deserve being judged?”

Mason looked at his once-intended bride. She’d said what he’d wanted to.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Mrs. Ashford apologized. “I’m just sad for the child.” Then the woman looked worried. “How long will your sister and her little friend be visiting here with you?”

“I have adopted both girls,” Mason said, bracing himself for the backlash, not looking toward Miss Jones.

Mrs. Ashford’s face widened in shock. “How can you take care of two little girls all by yourself?” Before he could answer, she turned to Miss Jones. “You two will have to get married right away.”

He couldn’t help himself. With a quick glance, he sought Miss Jones’s reaction.

She looked as if someone had slapped her.

Mason had not expected her to be pleased with the change in his circumstances, and it was worse to find out here in such a public place where they couldn’t talk this through. He closed his eyes in defeat.

“Mrs. Ashford,” Miss Jones began, “Mr. Chandler has just returned—”

“Aren’t you going to go through with your engagement?” Mrs. Ashford asked.

Here, right here on Main Street—was this where Miss Jones would let him down?

At that moment he heard someone approaching. He turned and saw Levi Comstock, the burly blacksmith and his good friend, coming. Or, he had been a good friend. Would he remain so?

Still in his leather apron and with his soot-blackened face, Levi held out his hand. “Good to see you back. Asa’s still got your cow and—also a new heifer—”

“A heifer?” Mason asked with surprise.

“Yes, your cow had a nice little calf in the spring.”

Mason couldn’t speak. Such good news.

“And those two and your chickens are all in good order with Asa. I still have your horses and wagon at my place. When would you like to come get them?”

In reply to all this warm welcome and news, Mason clasped Levi’s large, strong hand and shook it heartily.

“Well, Mr. Chandler,” Miss Jones spoke up, “I am happy to have met you and I will see you again soon, I’m sure.”

“But Miss Jones,” Mrs. Ashford spoke up, “you’re on your way to your sister’s home today, aren’t you? Mr. Chandler’s homestead is just up the road from there. You two might as well keep each other company on your way. You can bring Mr. Chandler up to date about all that’s happened in our little town while he was away.”

Mason did not appreciate the storekeeper’s wife’s suggestion. The last thing he wanted was to “keep each other company.” And it was more than obvious that Miss Jones didn’t want to, either. But what could they do here on Main Street but comply?

* * *

Emma literally clamped her teeth on her tongue, holding back a sharp retort. She wanted to get away from Mason Chandler. Coming upon him without warning had jumbled her thoughts and emotions in a way she had not expected. But what could she say to Mrs. Ashford? She could not be rude on the main street of town. “Of course,” she said politely.

Mason appeared uncomfortable, too.

She liked him better for that.

“You’re pretty,” one of the little girls said, looking up at her with big brown eyes and chubby brown cheeks.

Emma wished once again that people wouldn’t point out her outward appearance. She knew that they meant it in a complimentary way. But she was more than just a pretty face. However, saying this would not be polite, so she merely smiled at the little girl.

Mason asked Mrs. Ashford for the few items he needed to purchase, and then soon the four of them started up Main Street, heading toward her sister’s place. Then Mason could go on from there to his homestead.

For the first few minutes while they were walking through town, neither of them said anything. She didn’t want to be thrown together with Mason, the man she planned to let down lightly. She wasn’t rejecting him personally. After losing Jonathan, she’d never wanted to marry. Only dire need had forced her to accept a proposal from a stranger. But she did not need to marry now as she had in March. So she would be polite and distant.

Soon the four of them were walking a grassy track up a rise from town, thickly guarded on both sides by towering maples, oaks and fir trees. Emma decided talking was better than this awkward, heavy silence. Besides, she wondered how had he come to adopt two little girls. “I don’t mean to pry, but I’m interested in your girls.” She left the question open for any way he chose to answer it.

He cleared his throat. “My father, a widower, told me about losing Charlotte’s mother. When he died, I went to Illinois to find my little sister.”

That commanded Emma’s attention. Some men might not have been concerned enough about a little sister, especially a little half-sister, to go looking for her. Again, this was to his credit. She wanted to ask about the other little girl, but again her desire to keep her distance and her idea of politeness held her back.

“Birdie also lived at the orphans’ home in Illinois,” Mason continued as if sensing her unspoken question. “When Charlotte came to live at the orphanage well over a year ago, the woman who runs it, a Mrs. Felicity Gabriel Hawkins, located someone in Chicago who knew sign language and hired her to come teach it to Charlotte. That teacher said that it was better to have two pupils because they could help each other. And Birdie was already Charlotte’s best friend.”

“I liked Charlotte right away,” Birdie said. “And I wanted to learn how to talk with my hands.”

At that moment Charlotte looked up to Emma for the first time.

Emma was moved by the lost expression in Charlotte’s green eyes. And she was fascinated as she watched how Birdie worked her hands, communicating with the quiet girl walking beside her. Emma suppressed the urge to hug Birdie and silently promised to be a good friend to this little sweetheart. “I’m glad you did, Birdie. I like Charlotte already and I like you, too.”

Birdie smiled up at her as she evidently signed to Charlotte what Emma had said. Charlotte almost smiled.

Suddenly Emma realized that somehow Mason was slipping past her carefully constructed defenses. He was kind. Generous. And not hard to look at, either. Blushing, she quickened her step, hurrying them as much as was polite.

Another question niggled at Emma. Should she ask it? Yes, it would distract her from her awareness of him and not give him time to turn the conversation to “them.”

“So you were allowed to adopt both girls?”

“That was what caused the further delay in my returning,” Mason said. “Mrs. Hawkins questioned me about my qualifications to take charge of my little sister. Which wasn’t surprising since she didn’t know me.”

“Of course,” Emma murmured. A blue jay sounded its raucous song as if jeering at her, trapped in this uncomfortable situation, talking politely to a man she had agreed to marry but no longer wished to.

“I told her I was homesteading in Pepin, Wisconsin. That’s when she said her childhood friend, Noah Whitmore, was also homesteading in Pepin.”

“She knew Noah Whitmore?”

“Yes, they grew up going to the same Quaker meeting in Pennsylvania. And she decided to write to him to gain a character reference for me.”

“It’s amazing how God orchestrates matters.” Emma believed this, yet felt the old tug of disappointment. She’d prayed fervently for her fiancé Jonathan to survive the war. But evidently God had denied her request. Someday she hoped she could accept that with peace. She drew in a slow breath, wishing the brittle feeling around her heart would leave her.

“I suppose,” he said.

His uncertain tone caught her attention. What disappointment had he sustained? She brushed away this sudden sympathy and went on. “Since you are here with your girls, Noah Whitmore must’ve given you a good character reference.”

“I am very grateful for my girls.” Mason glanced with obvious affection at the two little ones.

The paternal glance softened her resistance again. She would have to be careful around this man, so as not to mislead him. She’d given all her love to Jonathan and she had nothing more to give.

“Some man kilt Charlotte’s mama and she couldn’t hear no more,” Birdie said. “The doctor say she ’sterical deaf.”

Shocked, Emma glanced at Mason. Was this true?

His jawline had tightened.

Emma could tell he did not like this being spoken of. And she didn’t blame him. “Bad things happen in this world,” she commented, trying to bring the uncomfortable topic to an end.

The little girl nodded solemnly and began to sign to Charlotte.

Without looking at Emma, Mason said, “Birdie, please don’t sign what I’m going to say now to Charlotte. It upsets her when people talk about it.” Then he did look at Emma. “The doctor called Charlotte’s condition hysterical deafness. He said he couldn’t find anything wrong with the structure of her ears, inside or out. We fear that Charlotte’s mother was murdered and perhaps Charlotte witnessed it. That’s what Mrs. Hawkins was told by the person who brought Charlotte to the orphanage.” He appeared to want to say more but he didn’t.

The hair on the nape of Emma’s neck prickled at the horror this sweet little girl might have witnessed. Emma completed his thought. “I will not speak of this.”

“I think it’s best for the girls if we don’t. People somehow transfer what a person’s family has suffered to them—as if they have been judged, as Mrs. Ashford said.” He glanced downward. “Will you remember that, Birdie?” he asked gently.

“Yes, sir!” Birdie said. “I only said it ’cause I can see Miss Emma is a fine lady.”

This uncomfortable conversation ended as they turned the bend and ahead lay her sister’s farm. Judith was doing laundry in the shade of an old oak tree beside the cabin.

“Judith!” Emma called out with sincere relief. “You’ll never guess who this is!” Emma made an attempt at teasing, trying to lighten the moment. She hoped Judith’s husband, Asa, would appear and relieve her of Mason Chandler. She wanted to be alone to sort out her unexpected reactions to him. Or better yet, talk it over with Judith in private.

* * *

Hoping to distance himself from Emma, Mason wished Asa Brant would appear and he could claim his livestock and then head on to his place. He wanted to be alone to sort out his unforeseen response to Miss Emma Jones. But he glued a smile onto his face and pulled up all his reserves of courtesy.

Emma led him toward Asa’s wife, who appeared flustered at his finding her in the midst of the weekly chore. Of course, he knew she was Emma’s twin sister, but they did not favor one another. Judith had brown hair and eyes to match, and possessed none of Emma’s startling beauty.

Then blessedly, the familiar tall and tanned, dark-haired Asa Brant stepped out of his barn. His face lifted into a welcoming smile and he hurried forward, his hand outstretched.

Emma continued on toward her sister.

Dropping the baggage, Mason gripped Asa’s hand, once again grateful to find another person who remained a friend—so far. “I’m just on my way home and wanted to stop and get my cattle. I hear I have a calf.”

“Yes, both of us increased our cattle this spring.” Asa beamed.

“Asa, I can’t thank you enough for taking care of them. I’ll pay you back—”

“Not a word about that.” Asa forestalled him with an upraised hand. “What are friends for?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Mason glimpsed another little girl, a blonde about Charlotte’s age, who had come out of Asa’s cabin and who was staring at his two little girls. Then he noted a boy with shaggy brown hair around eight or nine years old standing near the barn door.

Mason paused, wondering who they were.

“Before we take care of the cows, I need to introduce you to my wife. Or, I should say, my family,” Asa said with obvious pride. Asa led Mason to the woman who was now his wife, standing near the little girl. And the little boy hurried to Asa’s side. Asa rested a hand on the boy’s shoulder.

Acute envy caught around Mason’s heart. If he hadn’t been called away, he would be settled now with Emma as his wife. He wouldn’t have spent the whole growing season away. Leave it to his father to interrupt and bring disaster to his only son. Mason forced himself to relax his face, tightened by regret. He tried to focus as Asa introduced him to Judith and to the two children, Lily and Colton, whom they had evidently taken in.

He noted that Lily continued to stare at Charlotte and Birdie. Perhaps the little girl was just shy. He hoped that explained her lack of welcome.

Emma stooped to eye level with Asa’s girl. “Lily, say hello to Charlotte and Birdie. They will be your new neighbors. You can play with them.”

Lily turned her face into Judith’s skirt.

“I guess Lily is a bit shy today. But you three will get to know each other over time,” Emma said gently.

Mason was grateful for her attempt. It was obvious that Miss Emma Jones was not only beautiful but kind. He needed to go before he revealed even a hint of the sadness that had begun years before when his father had changed for the worse. And his secret now separated him from everyone, not just Emma Jones. “I need to get home, Asa. I want to get the house straightened up and everything settled before evening comes.”

“I’d come and help you,” Asa apologized, “but I’m right in the middle of something.”

“I don’t need any help,” Mason said.

“Yes, you do,” Asa replied. “You have that luggage to carry and the girls and the cattle. I can bring them over later—”

“I don’t want to cause you any trouble.”

“I would come along,” Asa’s wife said, motioning toward the laundry tubs, “but I’m right in the middle of this week’s clothes.”

“I don’t expect any help,” Mason said again. He held up his hands and stepped backward. “You all have your own work to do.”

“I’ll come and help,” Emma said. “I can drive a few cows.”

She surprised Mason into silence. He wanted to study her face to find out why she’d offered help, but of course, he couldn’t.

“It’s settled, then,” Asa said, sounding relieved. “Emma and Colton will lead the cattle, Mason.”

“And you’ll come back here for supper,” Judith said. “We have plenty and would be glad to have your company.”

“That’s right. We insist,” Asa agreed.

After the slights and reflected shame he’d suffered over the past few months, Mason felt humbled by their warm welcome. He only hoped no one here ever discovered the truth about his father, how he’d lived and where he’d died. That might be a bitter pill too big to swallow even by friends.

Soon Mason, still burdened with the baggage, walked beside Emma with Colton.

“I’ll box up your chickens and bring them over when I’m done!” Asa called after them.

Mason called back his thanks. The road turned to the north at the beginning of Asa’s property, going around it and leading to Mason’s homestead.

Emma and Colton carried prodding staffs they barely needed. The cow and young heifer strolled along, pausing occasionally to nibble grass. Mason wished he could hurry them, but no one hurried a milk cow. A contented cow gave more milk, and he would need it. Without a crop, he would depend much on his chickens and cows to keep the girls fed this winter.

“I’m sorry to trouble you,” Mason murmured to Emma as they rounded another bend in the road.

“It’s no trouble. I was raised on a farm. I like cows.”

He didn’t know what to say to this. “You’re too pretty to be herding cattle” didn’t seem appropriate. And they were certainly well chaperoned with the silent boy, and Birdie chattering in word and sign, and Charlotte, as always, guarded and silent. All the words he wished to say to Miss Emma must be held back. And she probably didn’t want to hear them, anyway.

“That little girl back there didn’t like us,” Birdie said. “She wouldn’t talk to us.”

The boy on the other side of the cattle said nothing in explanation.

“Some girls and boys are shy with strangers...people they are just meeting,” Emma suggested.

But Mason doubted it.

Birdie considered this. “Maybe,” she allowed. “Is this a nice place to live?”

“Yes, it is. I’m the schoolteacher here,” Emma said.

Oh, Mason thought. Another indication that this lady’s situation had altered. Just like his had. His hopes about her dimmed further. A woman with a paying job would not need a husband.

Birdie’s eyes widened. “You’re the teacher? Charlotte and me were supposed to start school this year in Illinois.”

“Oh?” Emma’s voice sounded a bit uncertain.

And no wonder. Mason had been at a loss how Mrs. Hawkins thought his girls could attend school. After all, Charlotte wouldn’t be able to hear the teacher.

Again, Birdie’s fingers were busy talking to Charlotte.

Charlotte replied in kind and appeared to be scolding her friend.

“Oh, Charlotte still thinks she can’t go to school,” Birdie added.

Exactly, Mason commented mentally.

“Children need to go to school,” Emma said. “All children.”

Mason looked away. His little sister would only be the recipient of stares and unkind words. And he wouldn’t let that happen.

Only three-quarters of a mile separated the two homesteads, so very soon he glimpsed his place—the sturdy log barn and cabin. After all the years of war and then wandering, he had once again a home to return to and now he had his sister and Birdie, too. His heart twinged at the thought. He was glad, but when he cast a sideways glance at the lady near him, he was sad. He’d hoped to employ finesse over when to meet and get to know Emma. But Birdie had even blurted out the cause of Charlotte’s deafness. What might have been would probably never be.

Then he saw something that shocked him. Behind his cabin, a corn field was tall and green and golden, nearing harvest. “What?” He halted right there.

Emma stopped, too. “What is it?”

“I...how do I have a corn crop?”

She followed his gaze. “Oh, yes, Asa planted your fields, one of corn and one of hay.”

“He...” Mason couldn’t speak from the shock and the feeling of being humbled by a friend’s help.

“And ours got wrecked,” the silent boy suddenly spoke with plain disgust.

Mason swung to him. “Yours? You mean Asa’s crop? Wrecked? How?”

“Yeah, a bad man drove his horses through it, trampled it bad,” the boy said.

Mason shifted his attention back to Emma. “What happened?”

“Just what the boy said,” she replied, looking unhappy. “The culprit left the county, though the sheriff has a warrant out for his arrest.”

Mason couldn’t ask any more questions. The thought of Asa planting his crops while losing his own was too much to take in.

“Want me to drive the cows into the barn?” the boy asked.

“Yes, I’ll just put the cases inside and be out to help you. Thanks.” Mason turned to Emma, ready to let her go. She must be as uncomfortable in this situation as he was. “Thank you for your help.”

She paused, studying him. “I will sweep out your cabin before I leave.”

She must be offering to do this because of the girls. He couldn’t believe she was staying for his sake. “That’s not necessary—”

“I know it’s not, but you’ll have enough to do settling the cattle and getting firewood and water inside. Dusting and sweeping won’t take long.” She paused to touch first Birdie’s, then Charlotte’s shoulder. “The girls can help me.”

“We can help!” Birdie parroted with glee.

He again realized that Miss Emma was a very kind lady. Gratitude clogged his throat. Overhead the sun was sliding toward the western horizon. He needed to do the things she’d mentioned, get the house fit for occupation so he and the girls could settle in before night. Finally he regained his voice. “Thank you, Miss Jones.”

“Thank you, Miss Emma!” Birdie crowed.

Mason hurried ahead, unlocked the chain he’d secured the cabin door with and pushed it open. He set the baggage just inside and shed his traveling jacket on a peg on the wall by the door. Then he turned back to the barn. “I’ll go see to the cattle.”

* * *

“Fine,” Emma said, watching Mason go with both relief and a touch of regret. This man, whom she’d already come to respect, carried a heavy load, and she had volunteered to help in the small way she could. But she must not let sympathy lure her from her new, independent life. She brushed away these thoughts of Mason Chandler.

“Girls,” she announced briskly, “let’s go inside to see how much dust we need to clean away.” She strode through the open door and then paused to let her eyes adjust to the dimmer interior. The little girls, one on each side of her, peered in also.

Dust covered every surface of a sparsely furnished one-room cabin—a short counter attached to the wall with a dishpan on it, two benches, one on each side of a table, two handmade straight-back chairs by the central fireplace, and a bed in the corner. Emma surveyed the home that would have been hers if events had followed the course she’d expected.

She much preferred her cozy teacher’s quarters where she could do as she pleased. She took off her bonnet and hung it on a peg by the door. The girls shed theirs and she hung them up, too, since the hooks were too high for them to reach.

“It’s dusty,” Birdie commented.

“It is indeed.” Emma glimpsed a broom standing in the corner and several cloths hanging over the side of the dishpan. “I will sweep and the two of you can begin dusting.” She glanced down. “Do you know how to dust?”

“Yes, miss,” Birdie replied. “We dusted every week in Illinois.”

“Good.” She handed them each a cloth and claimed the broom.

“We sing while we dust,” Birdie informed her.

“What do you sing?” Emma asked, intrigued.

Birdie replied in song, “Ain’t gonna let nobody turn me ’roun’; Turn me ’roun’.”

Emma couldn’t like the ain’ts, but the song sounded cheerful, and she liked the sentiment. Nobody was going to turn her ’round, either. She had her new course as Pepin schoolteacher set, and she would follow it.

Soon she found herself sweeping up acorn tops and other evidence of squirrels. A thump against the side of the house startled her. Then she heard footsteps overhead. She looked up as if she could see through the ceiling.

The sound of scratching came down through the fireplace.

“What’s that, Miss Emma?” Birdie asked, also looking up.

“I think Mr. Chandler may be cleaning out debris from the top of the chimney.” She approached the fireplace and craned her neck to look up inside it.

Then she heard it—the sound of boots sliding down wooden shingles and a yell and finally a thump outside. Her heart lurched. “Oh, no!”

Birdie cried out in fear and ran to her with Charlotte close behind.

Emma hurried to the door and outside into the daylight, the girls at her heels.

Mason lay on the ground, flat on his back, not moving.

Emma gasped. How badly was he hurt? She rushed toward him and met Colton, who had run from the barn. Emma dropped to her knees, yet stopped herself from touching him. “Mr. Chandler?” she repeated his name several times.

She looked across at Colton, who stood on the man’s other side, looking as worried as she felt. She leaned forward over Mason’s mouth and turned her cheek to feel his warm breath. She felt it. Relief ruffled through her. “He’s breathing.”

Then she became aware of the fact that the two little girls were crying. “Don’t cry, Birdie. Tell Charlotte her brother’s breathing. He’ll be fine.” I hope.

All Mason Chandler and Birdie had revealed today had captured her interest, her sympathy. But that was all she could give him. Nothing more. She was independent at last, teaching school, which she’d always wanted to do. She was grateful Mason had released her from their agreement to marry. She would help him now but keep her distance.