Читать книгу Frontier Want Ad Bride - Lyn Cote, Lyn Cote - Страница 13

Chapter Four

Out of the forest, swishing through the ankle-deep just-greening wild grass, Judith led the children the last few feet into her clearing, praying that Asa, taken by surprise, would not say or do anything that would frighten them away. With regret, she again scolded herself that he wouldn’t if she’d prepared him for what she had planned. She prayed for Asa’s underlying goodness to shine out and be sensed by these children.

Lily skipped along beside her, chattering away about Clara, her soiled, limp rag doll lying over her arm. “That’s my favorite name, Clara,” the little girl said.

“That is a very pretty name, but so is Lily. I love lilies, especially tiger lilies.” Judith sensed Colton lagging behind. Glancing over her shoulder, she observed him studying the area as if looking for any possible danger. Or perhaps an escape route.

“What’s a tiger lily?” the little girl asked.

“It’s a yellow or orange lily that blooms in the summer. We may have some growing around here.” Judith sent the girl a happy smile that masked her growing misgivings. Mimicking in sound her tightening tension, a chickadee in a nearby tree called out, “Chickadee-dee-dee. Chickadee-dee-dee.”

What would Asa say when he saw whom she’d invited for lunch? Her lungs tightened.

As if he heard her thought, Asa stepped out of the barn and, when he saw them, halted.

Colton halted.

Lily halted.

Judith clung to Lily’s hand and drew her forward. “I’m so happy you accepted my invitation to have lunch,” she said a bit louder than usual. “Hello, Asa! This is Lily and her brother, Colton. Children, this is my husband, Asa Brant.”

Asa sized up their guests, his expression unreadable. “Hello, children.”

He studied Judith as if asking a question and awaiting the answer. And she mouthed, “Pie. Shirt.”

After studying the little girl’s makeshift dress, his shirt, he nodded slowly. He inhaled. “What’s for lunch?”

Judith thanked him with a smile. He was going along with her plan without asking questions. “I made salt pork and beans and some brown bread. And—” she hoped this would help lagging Colton come the last few feet to their door “—I baked cinnamon—”

“Cake!” Lily crowed. “It’s good.” With these words she revealed that they’d already sampled one.

“Better wash up,” Asa said. He walked over to the outdoor pitcher and basin and began to soap his hands.

Lily let go of Judith’s hand and ran to stand beside Asa. “I know how to wash my hands all by myself.”

“Good.” Asa handed her the bar of soap. He glanced over his shoulder. “Boy?”

Colton caught up with Judith but did not approach Asa. He waited till he and Lily were done. When Asa stepped away from the basin and went to pump more water into the pitcher, Colton washed his hands, but stuck close to Judith, still watchful of his sister. That told Judith much. They did not deem her a threat, but the man of the house might be.

Soon the four of them with clean hands sat at the table, the children side by side on a bench, which was usually tucked away against the wall. Asa offered his customary brief grace, and then Judith began to dish up bowls of the beans, fragrant with molasses, and thick slices of bread. The contrast between the children’s clean hands and their grimy faces and matted hair caused Judith to itch to give both children a good scrubbing, brushing and combing.

“Can I have butter on my bread?” Lily asked.

“You may if you say please,” Judith replied automatically.

“Please, can I have butter on my bread?” Lily asked.

Judith buttered a slice thickly and set it on the girl’s plate.

“What do you say?” Asa prompted, sounding stern.

“Thank you,” Lily said, then bit into her bread. “Mmm.”

Grateful for the way Asa had gone along with this unexpected turn of events, Judith still worried. How could they keep the children here? Would Asa want that? What did the town do with orphans here? But were they orphans or runaways? How had these two little ones ended up on their own in a cave?

She chewed mechanically, trying to come up with what to do. The children ate as if starved. The pork and beans disappeared. Soon she was setting a second cake on the table, the first having served as successful bait.

Asa ate his portion and then looked at Colton. “Think you know something about a pie that disappeared from our windowsill?”

Colton jerked up from the bench.

Why had Asa said this? Not knowing and not wanting to contradict him, Judith held her breath. Would the children bolt?

“Sit back down,” Asa said. “I’m not going to turn you over to the sheriff.”

Judith stilled. She did not know what Asa was doing so she had no way of countering it, softening it.

Colton stayed standing, wary.

“We took the pie,” Lily said. “We were really hungry, and Colton’s trap didn’t catch anything. Sorry.” The girl bowed her head and set a forkful of cake back on her plate.

Asa looked to the brother. “That what happened, boy?”

“Yes, sir,” Colton said, facing Asa squarely.

“Then I have a few chores you can do to work off what you owe me...us.”

At first Judith had to swallow a protest, and then she saw the wisdom of this. Or thought she did.

“What kind of chores?” Colton asked.

“I’m sharpening the blade of my plow. You could oil my plow harness.” Asa glanced toward Judith. “You have something Lily can help with?”

“Yes. She can dry the dishes and help me dust,” Judith improvised.

“I can do that,” Lily said, sounding happy that the chores were not beyond her abilities.

Asa looked to Judith, communicating something she couldn’t decipher. “Then we have a deal.” He rose from the table. “Children, thank Mrs. Brant for lunch. Good meal, ma’am,” he said, which was his usual end-of-meal phrase.

The little girl consumed the rest of her cake in two bites. “Good meal, ma’am,” Lily parroted.

Colton sat back down, finished drinking his glass of milk and ate the last bit of cake. “Thank you for the good lunch, Mrs. Brant.” He stood again. “Where’s that harness?”

“Where is that harness, sir?” Asa prompted.

Colton glared, his lower lip protruding. But he repeated the sentence, though with a surly edge.

Judith held her breath. Had Asa gone too far? Would he push the children to run?

Instead, Colton followed Asa outside. Lily drained her glass and popped up. “I can help.”

Judith rose and carried most of the dishes to the dry sink and counter. Lily followed her like a shadow and watched her intently. “I like your house,” the little girl said.

“Thank you. I do, too.”

The two of them chatted. Lily seemed happy to contribute her part, but she avoided all questions about her family. Once the little girl looked about to cry, so Judith returned the conversation to something light and easy.

The afternoon was far along when Colton appeared at the open cabin door. “You done with your chores, Lily?”

Lily looked up at Judith, her expression begging her to say no.

But the chores were done. “Yes, but won’t you stay—”

“We gotta go,” Colton insisted. He waved insistently at his little sister. “Come on.”

Lily left Judith’s side and went to her brother. Just before they left, she turned. “Thanks...thanks.”

Colton took his sister’s hand, and the two of them headed back to the forest.

Judith stepped outside and watched them go. Would they return to the cave or would they move on, afraid of...what? Who had made them afraid? Her heart hurt for them.

Asa remained in the barn.

Judith rarely ventured there, sensing that her new husband liked his privacy. Being married to a stranger who wouldn’t reveal anything about his past or thoughts often became awkward. The barn was his haven, hers the kitchen. But now she entered the barn, her emotions a storm.

Asa stood near his upturned plow in the shadowy interior that smelled like a clean barn should, earthy with the distinctive scent of horses and cows. Everything in the barn reflected Asa’s desire for neatness and order. The walls were adorned with pegs that sported all manner of tools and horse paraphernalia. She paused in the doorway, looking at him. She tried to come up with a way to introduce the subject of the children and what to do about them. Two children that young would not thrive living in a cave. And though spring and summer were ahead, winter would come again. Her husband did not like to talk, but they must discuss this. The children had come to their window. God had brought Colton and Lily to them. She cleared her throat and prayed for inspiration.

* * *

Hearing her come in, Asa, sitting at his small, slender work table, gazed at Judith, seeing her silhouette outlined in sunshine. Already knowing her tender heart, he shouldn’t have been surprised at her showing up with two ragamuffins. “Where’d you find them?” he asked.

She filled him in on the cake trap she’d set to catch the pie-and-shirt thief.

Fear for her, and anger, ricocheted through him. He stood. “You did that without telling me?” he snapped. “What if it hadn’t been children but a man...a tramp? Someone who might have hurt you.” He closed the distance between them.

“I don’t know why I didn’t tell you.” She lifted her hands in a helpless motion. “I guess I’m used to taking care of things myself. Father hasn’t been strong for a long time. My brother was gone to war. I’m the oldest.”

He drew a few deep breaths, calming himself.

“If a man had come, I would have stayed in the springhouse.” She looked up at him—and burst into tears.

He didn’t know what to do. “I didn’t mean to make you cry—”

“You didn’t.” She wept on, waving her hand toward the open door. “They are living in a cave. What are we going to do? Colton can’t be even ten. He can’t take care of Lily all by himself.” She covered her face with both hands. Her weeping intensified.

Her freely expressed emotions pointed out his own hollowed-out aching within. No doubt she’d never before seen ragged, grimy children begging. But he had. Urchins—both white and black—had come into camp begging even for hardtack, the worst food ever.

He closed his eyes, trying to block out the memories. Then he looked at his wife. What did one do with a weeping woman? He recalled the few times he’d seen his mother cry and how his father had handled it.

Uncertain, he put an arm around her and patted her back, mimicking his father’s words. “There, there.”

It worked.

She stepped closer and rested her head against his chest, quieting. The fragrance she always wore, which reminded him of lilacs, floated up from her hair. He nearly bent and kissed the top of her head. But he held himself in check. His father had never kissed his mother when comforting her. And Asa and Judith were married but not close...his fault.

“Asa, what are we going to do? We can’t let two little children continue to live in a cave in the woods.”

She spoke the truth. In the past he could give only what he had in his knapsack to the orphans of the war, but now he had a house and food to share. Yet he didn’t know what to say, so he patted her shoulder some more.

“You were very wise about the pie and chores,” she said, glancing up.

I was? he thought.

“I could see Colton understood that. When I invited them to lunch, he didn’t want to come, but Lily came right along. Someone, some man, has mistreated him. You noticed that, too?”

Asa considered this. “You’re right. He came with me but kept his distance, always out of arm’s reach. And we’re assuming that they are orphans, but they might have run away.”

Judith pressed her face into his shirt again. Then straightened. “I hate to think that, but yes, some parents or guardians can be ill-tempered.”

Asa almost lost himself looking into her eyes, which shone with tears of concern.

“I think the offer of payment by chores reassured him that you—we—weren’t trying to pull something over on him.” She looked at Asa, obviously asking for a reply.

“It worked.” Those were the only words that came to him.

She nodded. And then sighed and wiped her cheeks with her handkerchief. “I’m sorry to break down like that. I just was so shocked to see children living there. And on top of that, I’m worried that I still haven’t heard from home. We sent that letter weeks ago.”

Judith began twisting the hankie in both hands. “Emma wrote Father, too. No reply.”

Asa shifted from foot to foot. He didn’t like talking about family. “What do you think is keeping him from answering?”

She mangled the lacy scrap of linen some more.

“You can tell me, Judith.” His words mocked him. He expected her to trust him, but he didn’t want to trust her. Bile rose in his throat.

She moved to sit at Asa’s work table. “My brother returned from the war with a bride from Kentucky.” She pursed her lips as if hesitant to say more.

Asa said nothing. He couldn’t coax her to talk. It felt dishonest of him.

“My sister-in-law, Mabel Joy, is a contentious woman. That’s all I’ll say.”

“Maybe your father can’t write...” As soon as the words left his mouth, and he saw her stricken look, he knew he’d said exactly the wrong thing. Contrite, he patted her back again. “Might just be that men aren’t good at writing letters.”

Again his own words slapped him. He had yet to write his own parents to tell them he’d married Judith. Guilt froze him in place. What kind of son didn’t even write his parents when he got married? Had his bride noticed that?

Judith touched his sleeve. “You are probably right. Father was never one to write letters. And if Mabel Joy were a kind woman, she’d have written back or coaxed him into doing so.” She sighed.

“Is there a neighbor you could write, or a relative?” Asa suggested.

Judith’s eyes brightened. “Of course. Why didn’t I think of that?” She squeezed his hand. “Thank you, Asa. I’ll write to our neighbor, and I know she’ll write back and give me all the news.” She sent him a trembly smile. “So, what should we do about these children?”

He could do nothing but say the truth. “Let’s both think on it.”

She nodded. “A good idea.” She surprised him by standing on tiptoe and kissing his cheek. “Thank you, Asa.” Then, as if embarrassed, she hurried out with a wave of one hand.

He stood still, savoring the quick peck on his cheek. With tiny hitching breaths, he was able to relax. It was good to have Judith here. Yet troubling. She caused him to feel his inner lack, his inability to react like a normal man. But so far he’d evidently not revealed his deficiency, his emptiness to her. So far, so good.

* * *

In the back of his mind, Asa recalled that he’d heard a husband and wife in the area had died over the winter and there had been children. So after listening to Judith repeat her worries about the children the previous evening, Asa decided he needed more reconnaissance before he took action. He’d go to the fount of all local news and information, Ned Ashford.

So this morning after breakfast and chores, he entered the shadowy store. A few remaining strings of dried apples hung from the rafters and still faintly scented the air. Two women were just finishing up their purchases. He waited, looking over Ashford’s supply of ammunition.

When the ladies left, jingling the bell on the door, Asa approached the storekeeper. “Morning.”

“Morning. What can I do for you?”

“Could use some more buckshot.” Asa knew he must not appear that he came just for information. He didn’t want Ashford too interested. These two waifs, probably orphans, had come to Asa’s door, and Judith would want to have a hand in deciding what should be done for them. So did he, for that matter. He’d been unable to help orphans in the war-ravaged South, but he could help two here.

As the transaction proceeded, Asa asked in a nonchalant voice, “Didn’t I hear that a couple farther out died over winter?”

Ashford looked up, alert. “Yes. Why do you ask?”

Asa had come prepared. “My wife was wondering if anybody needed help with anything. She likes to be a good neighbor.”

“You got yourself a good wife there,” Ashford said. “Everybody thinks so.”

Asa did not like how this comment revealed that he and Judith were the topic of discussion locally, but he ignored this for now. “Do you know what happened to the couple?” Asa prompted Ashford.

“Well, they were nice young people, name of Farrier, homesteading like you and your wife. We think it might have been pneumonia. Their neighbors, the Smiths, came to church—something they didn’t do often.” Ashford paused to frown at this. “Anyway, the Smiths said that their neighbors had died and before the ground froze deep, they’d buried them.

“The Smiths asked Noah to come do a graveside service. He did. A few of us went along, a sad task. Noah looked at the Farriers’ family Bible and some letters from the Farriers’ place to find out if any kin wanted the children. He wrote. But he never heard back. And the Smiths had already taken in the two children, a boy and a girl.”

A boy and a girl. Asa concealed his reaction to the news. This might explain two children without parents. He wished he’d taken more notice at the time. But the Farriers had been near strangers to him. “Smiths took them in?”

“Yes, said that the Farriers and they were distant cousins, but—” Ashford paused “—if I recall correctly, the Farriers didn’t cotton to their neighbors and never said anything about being related.”

“So the Smiths took in the children.” Asa repeated the information, mentally examining it.

“Yes. Noah Whitmore visited again when the weather permitted. But the children had been taken in and were being cared for, so he merely discussed the matter and offered help. The Smiths turned him down. And that was that.”

Asa nodded, paid for the buckshot. “Sad story.”

“It’s a hard life on the frontier. You take care of that sweet wife of yours.”

“Will do.” Nobody and nothing were going to get past him to Judith. And now he knew that Judith would make sure these children were taken care of for her peace of mind. And his own peace of mind, for that matter. The wary look in the boy’s eyes wouldn’t leave him alone, either. And hands down, he couldn’t ignore two children living in the wild alone.

Out in the sunshine, Asa wandered over to the blacksmith. He waited till Levi, in his leather apron, finished the horseshoe he was pounding on the anvil, making sparks fly. The heat from his fire warmed Asa’s face uncomfortably.

“Hello.” Levi swiped a grimy cloth over his sweaty face.

Asa returned the greeting. “Need to know if you ever heard of the Farriers or the Smiths.”