Margaret Brownley (24 page)

He stared at her. “When you say r-raise him? You mean like…a real father?”

“More like a spiritual father. You have to make certain he stays on God’s path.”

He frowned. “That sounds like a big responsibility.”

“If you’d rather not be his godfather I understand,” she said.

“I didn’t say that. It’s just I have to get ready.”

“Ready?”

“I won’t know what path Noel needs to follow if I don’t study the map.”

She blinked. “What map?”

“Why the map in the Good Book. There is a map of the path there, right?”

She tried to think how to explain. “It’s not actually a map. It’s more of a list of dos and don’ts.”

“A list?”

“Commandments. And a Golden Rule.”

“You mean there’re even rules for gold panning?”

“No, no, nothing like that. I mean…not exactly. The golden rule means to do until others as you wish them to do until you.”

“Well now. That sounds like something I can teach the boy. Come to think of it that’s something us mountain men believe in. We don’t call it a golden rule. We just call it plain common sense.”

She looked ever so pleased. “If you like, you can borrow my Bible.”

“I guess I better,” he said. “If I’m going to be Noel’s godfather I better find out what else he’s gotta learn.”

Preacher Genesis lived in a canvas tent just outside of town. A short, compact man with a bald spot the size of a half-dollar, he peered at Logan through metal-framed spectacles. Seemingly delighted to have a visitor, the preacher pumped Logan’s hand as if to force the last drop of water from a dried-up well, and invited him inside.

“You’re the first visitor I’ve had since coming to California,” Genesis explained. “Back home, people dropped in all the times. If someone got engaged or had a baby, they told me first.” His mind seemed to wander for a moment, but he soon caught himself and, apologizing profusely for his lack of manners, promptly cleared a pile of clothes off a wooden candle crate so that Logan could sit down.

Satisfied that he’d met his guest’s immediate needs, the preacher drew up another crate and sat opposite him. “What brings you here?”

Logan placed his fur hat on one knee. “I came to ask you some questions.” He hesitated. This was all so new to him. “They’re of a religious nature.”

“In that case you’ve come to the right place.”

Logan was relieved to hear this. “Libby asked me to be Noel’s godfather.”

“That’s quite an honor.”

Logan leaned forward with knitted brow. “It’s not too much of an honor, is it?”

The preacher scratched his bald spot. “What do you mean, too much?”

“It’s just that the name
godfather
…it sounds rather high falutin’.”

“Hmmm. Never thought of it that way.”

“Do I have to go around acting like…” Logan lifted his eyes skyward.

“No, no, no, nothing like that.”

“I can still live my normal life and be a godfather?”

The preacher gave this a moment of thoughtful consideration before replying. “It’s hard to say. There’s living a life man’s way and then there’s living a life the way God intended. You know what I mean?”

“Not entirely. In living a life, is there room for a broad interpretation?”

“It depends,” the preacher said.  “How broad are we’re talking about?”

Logan rubbed his chin. “For example, can a godfather play poker?”

“I’m afraid gamblin’ is out of the question.”

Logan sat back. It wasn’t what he wanted to hear. “What about alcohol?”

“Alcohol is okay for medicinal purposes,” the preacher said.

Logan frowned. “That’s it?”

“’fraid so.”

“What about women,” Logan asked and held his breath.

“How broad an interpretation are we talking?”

Logan shrugged. “You know a man has certain physical needs….”

“Ah, now, that’s an area where you might be tempted to stretch the limitations beyond what’s acceptable.”

“What do you consider acceptable?”

The preacher looked flustered. “A chaste kiss might be all right. Long as you keep your hands where God can see them.  At least till you tie the knot.”

Logan frowned. He felt like he was applying for sainthood. “What else does a godfather have to do? Besides stay within acceptable limits?”

“Nothing more. Unless, of course, something happens to the mother.”

The very thought of something happening to Libby made Logan’s mouth go dry as an old tobacco box. “She told me I would have to teach him the Ten Commandments and the Golden Rule,”

“And don’t forget to take him to church on the Sabbath.”

Logan frowned. “The Sabbath part could be a problem in my line of work. Sometimes weeks or months pass and I never as much as see anything remotely civilized.”

“That presents a challenge.” Genesis thought for moment. “I suppose under those circumstances it would be understandable to miss Sunday worship. As long as you make an effort to attend whenever possible. Here…” He reached for a Bible. “Take this and read a little every day.”

Logan took the Book from him. He’d never owned a Bible, never saw a need.

Genesis stood and slapped Logan on the shoulder. “Now don’t go getting yourself all worked up about this. I would say that Noel’s mother is a healthy specimen if I ever saw one. Let’s just think of you as insurance.”

Logan wasn’t sure he liked the sound of this. “Insurance, you say?”

“Think of it this way. You know how some of those Eastern folks never go out without a pair of galoshes, even in the middle of summer when there’s not a cloud in the sky. It never rains in the summertime in California, but they are always prepared. Trust me, your duties as a godfather will keep you as busy as a pair of galoshes in summertime.” He laughed at his own joke. “A good way to start any new endeavor is with prayer.”  With that he lowered his head and Logan followed suit.  It was the hardest Logan ever prayed.

God, don’t let me mess this up.  Let me do right by Libby and Noel.

Logan left the preacher’s tent a changed man.  He was determined to be the best godfather a boy could hope for. He would protect Noel with his life, that’s what he would do. Why Noel wouldn’t want for a thing, not a thing. Nor would he wander off God’s path. Not if Logan had anything to do with it.

*****

The night before Noel’s baptism Libby sat in front of the fire, Noel’s baptism gown fashioned out of her nightgown spread across her lap. After sewing the last stitch in place she cut the thread and stuck her needle into a sawdust pincushion. Holding up the white cotton gown, she gave it a critical once-over.

The yoke was embroidered with tiny little flowers and trimmed with a narrow white braid. The lace that she’d taken such care to sew along the puffed sleeves and round neckline was a bit too wide, but she had ripped it off her petticoat and it would have to do.

Satisfied with the finished garment, she carefully pressed the dress with a hot brick and hung it over the back of a chair. All that was left to do was sew ribbon onto the matching bonnet.

She tiptoed into Noel’s room to check on him, carrying the white gown with her. He’d been fussy earlier and she feared he might be coming down with a cold. His soft even breathing assured her that he was sleeping peacefully. She draped the gown over a chair so it wouldn’t get wrinkled and tiptoed out of the room.

While gathering her sewing supplies from her chair she dropped a pin on the large bearskin rug. She lifted the hem of her skirt and fell to her knees. The fur felt coarse to her fingers as she searched the deep nap. It hadn’t seemed anywhere near as coarse the night she and Logan sat together on that very same rug. In fact, she distinctly remembered that on that particular night the rug felt soft to the touch.

Had it really only been eight days since he’d come to supper? It seemed like forever since she’d seen him. She had, of course, bumped into him twice since. Both times he’d been polite, but guarded, acting like he didn’t know where to look or what to say. She’d tried her best to put his mind at ease. But it was hard with her heart beating so wildly in her chest and her mouth refusing to form a sensible sentence. She wanted him to know that she really did appreciate his kind marriage proposal, even though they both agreed it was not a particularly practical one.

A knock at the door made her jump to her feet. She knew it was Logan by his knock, but even the moment she took to brace herself before opening the door did not prepare her enough, and she greeted him with a wavering voice.

“I…didn’t expect to see you.”

“I know…” He seemed to be having a difficult time looking her straight in the eye. “I have something for Noel.” He handed her a rectangular package, tied with a piece of rawhide.

“How very thoughtful of you.” She stared down at the package in her hands, wishing they could recapture the easy rapport they once shared. But that was before he’d asked her to marry him, before she knew how much she wanted to. “Do you want to open it now or should I wait until after his baptism tomorrow?”

“Since I want him to wear this tomorrow, you’d better open it now.”

Remembering her manners, she stepped aside. “Do come in.” Heavens, they spoke to each other like strangers meeting for the first time.

After closing the door she crossed the room and placed the package on the table. She smiled nervously before slipping off the rawhide and pulling back the paper.

Inside was a little buckskin suit identical to the one Logan was wearing, complete with a fringed caplet and rawhide lacing. She held the little outfit in front of her.

“It’s absolutely lovely! I’ve never seen anything so adorable.” Her delight increased upon spotting the tiny moccasins to match. “Oh, Logan!”

Logan rewarded her with a broad smile. “Made it myself.”

That explained why she’d seen him so seldom during the last week. She thought of all the times she’s peered through the canvas opening at her window to his cabin, not wanting to be caught gaping, yet driven by some inexplicable need to know what he was doing. It never once occurred to her that he was working on an outfit for Noel. “It’s so small.”

His smile faded. “It’s not too small, is it?”

“Oh, no! It’s perfect.” For no good reason, she felt her face grow warm. ‘‘But then, you always were good at guessing sizes.”

“Well now.” His gaze dropped down the length of her.

She held Noel’s suit in front of her as much to block Logan’s view as to study the detailed handiwork. At first she thought the intricate design on the yoke had been embroidered, but closer observation revealed the little animal shapes had been created from tiny colored beads.

“Learned beadwork from a Dakota Indian,” he explained.

“I’ve never seen such intricate work,” she said. “And look at all this lovely fringe.”

“Whangs,” he said. “Trappers call them whangs.”

“Whangs,” she repeated.

“That’s so the rain will run off.”

“You just never know when that might come in handy,” she said.

“If you like I can grease it up to make it really waterproof. Bear grease is the best.”

“I don’t expect that Noel will be out in the rain that much.”

“No, I suspect not. You remember how to clean buckskins, don’t you?”

The corner of her mouth lifted slightly. “Place them on an anthill.”

He grinned. “I just might make a mountain woman out of you after all.”

She caught her breath. “You…you said something earlier. About Noel wearing this tomorrow.”

“For the baptism. It doesn’t seem right to have a baptism and not be dressed properly.”

He looked so earnest that she didn’t have the heart to tell him that it was customary for the baby to be baptized in a proper white christening dress.

“I quite agree,” she said and smiled.

“It seems the least a godfather can do is to see that his little godson has himself a proper outfit on such a special occasion.”

“Noel doesn’t know how lucky he is.”

“I…” His gaze washed over her. “I’d better be going. Tomorrow is an important day and you need your sleep.” He turned toward the door.

Reluctant for him to go, she reached for his arm in an attempt to delay his departure. He turned his head and looked back over his shoulder. Feeling foolish, she dropped her hand and stammered a good night. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow.”

“And, Logan…. I’m much obliged to you.”

After he left, she held up the little buckskin suit. She could only imagine what her staunch Boston parents would say if they knew that their grandson was going to be baptized in such an outfit.

The thought made her laugh.

*****

The entire town of Deadman’s Gulch turned out for Noel’s baptism. All except for Cast-Iron, who took to the hills first thing in the morning, a-mumbling and a-grumbling, as Sharkey told the others, about the town a-going crazy.