The Gift of a Child (13 page)

“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?”

The child did not turn his head. Once more she said his name. As if rousing from a trance, he let the block in his hand fall to the floor and slowly turned to face her, his eyes at first blank and then suddenly filled with life. “Rose?”

“Yes, darling.”

“Rose,” he shouted, throwing himself into her arms. “My Rose?” Then he took her face in his small hands and ran his fingers down her tear-stained cheeks. “I seed you in a dream. Are you a dream?”

Rose held him close, enveloped by the sweet-salty little boyness of him. “No dream, Alf. I’m here.”

Then without warning, he shoved her away. “You left me.”

Rose crumpled. How could she never once have thought he might blame her for his disappearance? She grasped him by the shoulders. “I would never leave, Alf. I promise.”

The little fellow merely shrugged. “Maybe.”

To Rose, it seemed as if the two of them were lost in their own private world. Then in the corner of her vision, she glimpsed boots crossing the floor. Seth. “Look who else is here, Alf.”

The boy shrugged again, but finally turned around. As if the sun had burst forth after a tempest, the boy’s eyes grew large with amazement, and he covered his mouth with one hand, as if unable to believe the evidence of his senses. He looked at her questioningly. “Sett?”

“Yes, dear, Seth.”

By that time, Seth had reached Alf and swung him up into his arms. “Big!” the boy squealed.

Seth lowered him between his knees. “Little.” He laughed before again tossing the boy toward the ceiling.

Rose clutched her heart. Never had she heard more welcome sounds or witnessed more spontaneous love.

Quietly Mrs. Riley moved around the kitchen preparing glasses of milk to go with a large platter of ginger snaps and sugar cookies. When they all sat down at the table, Alf between Seth and her, Rose noticed the boy had quieted down, intent upon fingering something in his hands.

“Alf, what is that? Can you show me?”

He sent her a distrustful look, but when she took his hands in hers, he slowly unfisted them and there in all its agate splendor was Aunt Lavinia’s marble. As soon as she’d seen it, he quickly closed his fingers around it. “Mine,” he said. “All mine.”

Seth leaned closer and placed a hand on the boy’s head. “Indeed, it is.”

After supper, Seth went with Lars to engage rooms at the local hotel. Polly, however, had insisted Rose stay with Alf. Tucked together in a soft bed covered with a warm quilt, Rose cuddled the child near, shushing him when he yelled out from apparent nightmares. He seemed less trusting, more withdrawn. Given what had happened to him, that was to be expected. Yet she could never doubt the love he’d exhibited, if only briefly, when he’d recognized her and then Seth.

The next day Sheriff Riley intended to question Alf’s father more closely, especially in regard to any claim he might have over the boy. Seth had tried to assure her that such a man had little concern for or interest in his son. Certainly he had no way to care for him from behind bars. Still, Rose would never feel confident until she had adopted Alf in a court of law. That day couldn’t come too soon.

Laying a soothing hand on his little shoulder, she drifted off, soothed by memories of the kind man who had brought her to this moment and of the sleeping boy who fulfilled her every prayer.

Chapter Thirteen

T
he next morning Rose snuggled Alf close on the buggy ride home, grateful that Seth had taken time away from the ranch to accompany her. The trip home seemed shorter than the one to Council Grove, maybe because her apprehension had subsided. Total peace of mind would remain elusive, though, until she could formally adopt her boy.

Alf, who in the past had been curious and alert, seemed disinterested in the passing landscape. Rose realized recent events had been beyond a child’s capacity to handle, and she wondered, too, what his life had been like in these many weeks with his mother. At the very least, his living conditions had been dismal. Could he be restored to his previous happier state?

After his initial joy—or relief—at seeing Seth and her, she had seen little evidence of enthusiasm, only resignation. He acted as if their rescue of him was simply another of the detours in his young life, one to be endured rather than embraced. This morning when Seth had come to pick them up, the two of them had conferred and decided to let Alf set the pace of his recovery. Too much love too soon might be smothering or interfere with his need to grieve his mother.

When they crossed the bridge over the Cottonwood River, Alf perked up, his head pivoting as if taking in everything at once. When he mumbled something, Rose leaned over and asked him to repeat himself. “I ’member this.” In his hand, he clutched the agate, as he had during the duration of the trip.

When they pulled up in front of the Kellogg home, Alf seemed to shrink. “We’re home, dear,” Rose said in a reassuring tone.

The boy shook his head. “No home. I got no home.”

Rose struggled for composure. “This will be your home if you want it to be. I want it to be. Seth wants it to be.”

Alf stuck out his chin in defiance. “I’m scared here. Not safe.”

Pulling him into a tight embrace, Rose blinked away the onset of tears. “I promise we will keep you safe and loved.”

Seth, who had overheard everything, stood waiting to lift Alf out of the buggy. He enfolded the boy in one arm and gave his hand to Rose. When their eyes met, Rose recognized her concern mirrored in his. How could they protect Alf from his memories and create a stable life for him?

When Rose started up the walk, she saw her beloved family waiting on the porch—Papa, Aunt Lavinia, Caleb, Lily and Mattie. Alf buried his head in Seth’s shoulder as he carried him toward them and then sat down on the top porch step, cradling the boy close. Something in Alf’s demeanor signaled the others that this was not an ecstatic celebration, but a delicate situation to be handled with care. “Here you are, Alf, with all the people who love you.”

Alf lifted his head, eyeing them one by one, as if they were laboratory specimens...until he came to Mattie, peeking out from behind Lily’s skirt. “I see you,” he said, the first grin enlivening his features.

“Brudder,” she cried, escaping from her mother to join Alf in Seth’s lap. “You gone. I cried,” she confided, addressing Alf as if the rest of them were invisible. The little girl then took the boy’s hand in hers. “Wanna play wif me?”

Alf smiled again, and the two of them slipped from Seth’s lap and disappeared into the house. Caleb and Seth followed the children while Rose briefly explained to the rest what they had learned in Council Grove.

“Despicable,” Aunt Lavinia intoned.

“He bears scars that will take time to heal,” Ezra said.

Lily embraced Rose. “You are the one God has sent to his aid. We will all help in any way we can. We are grateful he has been removed from such an unsavory situation.”

Inside, the two children were at the kitchen table eating slices of the apple cake Bess Stanton had prepared for the occasion. Rose looked around, then turned to her father. “Papa, where’s Bess? I thought she’d be here.”

“She felt the homecoming should be family only.”

“But Bess seems like family.” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she realized the effect of her statement. If her papa had ever blushed, this was the moment. Perhaps Lily was right—something was brewing between her father and Bess Stanton.

After they had all celebrated over cake, Caleb, Lily and Mattie took their leave in order to get home before dark. Seth, too, bowed out. Alf clung to Mattie until the last moment, then dashed back into the house and sought refuge in the corner to which Rose had restored his marbles, blocks and other toys, oblivious to the three adults left sitting at the table. Papa seemed overcome with relief. “The boy has been through so much. We must take heart, though. Never underestimate the healing power of love.”

“This is one time I wish I had experience with children.” Lavinia studied the boy from afar. “Even in the midst of those who care about him, he seems lonely.”

Rose wondered if her aunt was speaking as much about herself as about Alf. “We will probably never know exactly what he has endured. What he witnessed with his mother and father is beyond our imagining.” She faced her aunt. “I understand that you had reservations about my taking Alf into this home. Reputation matters, but in my view, it is trumped by love and compassion. I hope you can accept this precious, damaged child into our family and support me in my decision to adopt him legally.”

Aunt Lavinia drew in a sharp breath, averted her glance to study Alf, lost in his make-believe world, and then slowly turned back to Rose. For a long time she said nothing, a play of emotions altering her expression. Rose waited for her aunt’s response. But no words came.

Her aunt slid back her chair and stood, her lips pursed as if in deliberation. Then, with a determined swish of her skirts, she turned away, walked over to Alf and dropped to the floor beside him.

Rose looked quickly at her father, whose eyes were wide with wonder.

“What is that in your hand?” they heard Lavinia ask.

Alf looked up at her rather like a baby bird. “’Vinia?”

“Yes?”

“I got it.” He slowly opened his fist. Lavinia leaned forward to admire his treasure. “’Vinia’s marble. Mine.”

Aunt Lavinia picked up the marble bag lying close by. “And these?”

“Mine, too. Marbles.” He grabbed the bag from her and poured the contents on the floor. He watched warily as Lavinia scooped them toward him.

“There. Now you can play with them.”

Gently he set down the large agate in the midst of the colored marbles. Then he nodded his head, as if satisfied with the arrangement.

“You.” He touched Lavinia’s lace-covered wrist. “Please, ’Vinia, play with me.”

“I would be honored,” the woman said, brushing a finger briefly under her eyes. “You, sir, you begin.”

Rose and her father exchanged smiles of the kind prompted only by God’s wondrous and mysterious action in the lives of His people. As if to put “Amen” to the scene, Ulysses came out from under the sofa where he had been hiding from the crowd and curled up in Alf’s lap. “’Vinia, look. Our cat.”

* * *

In the next few weeks, Rose puzzled about the nature of the bond between Aunt Lavinia and Alf, but from the moment he had returned to Cottonwood Falls, the two had “played” often. Lavinia had taught Alf a marbles game, taken him for a picnic at the falls and updated his wardrobe at the mercantile. In truth, Lavinia was receiving more of his affection than Rose was, due in part to the fact that the boy still harbored insecurity about her care of him, almost as if he blamed her for his being taken at the camp meeting. It wasn’t that he actively shoved her away, but his responses to her were guarded. While that hurt, Rose was determined to be patient with him.

Just this morning at breakfast, he’d looked at her accusingly and asked, “Where’s Sett?”

“He wishes he could be with you, Alf, but he has gone on the cattle drive.”

“Cows?”

“Yes, he, Caleb and others are herding the cattle to the railroad.”

“Why?”

“So they can ride on a train to the market. Seth will sell the cattle to make money and then buy some more cows to feed. He’s a rancher. That’s what they do.”

“Rancher? I like horses and cows. I wanna be a rancher. Like Sett.”

“Someday perhaps, love.”

Later in the morning a tall, blond peddler with scraggly hair and bloodshot eyes came to the door. Alf took one look at the man, shrieked, “Go away,” and ran to his toy corner, where he curled up in a ball and covered his eyes.

Rose hastily dismissed the peddler and hurried to Alf. “Dear boy, whatever is the matter?”

“Bad man,” he mumbled into his hands.

With care, she pulled him into her lap, folding his hands in hers, sick with the realization of the connection he must’ve made between the peddler and his father. “The peddler wouldn’t hurt you.” She paused before plunging on. “Did he remind you of someone?”

By way of answer, Alf slipped from her lap and picked up the rag doll inside the house of blocks he’d made for her. Then with childlike rage, he put his hands around the neck of the doll and shook her. “Kill you. Bad man. E-nah. He killed her.” Then he gently placed the doll on the floor, carefully arranging the yarn hair. “Gone,” he said in a forlorn tone that tore at Rose’s whole being.

Her heart racing, Rose prayed for the words to ease the little boy’s pain. “You loved your E-nah.”

He nodded solemnly, tracing the face of the doll with his fingers.

“Alf, listen to me very closely. I am sorry this happened to you, but I am glad you loved your mother. She must’ve loved you, too, to come here and take you with her.” The boy looked up, his attention fixed on her. “You are safe here. The bad man is in jail. He can’t hurt you.”

“In jail? Locked up? You promise?” He climbed back into her lap, clutching the doll.

What fears had been at work in this small child? “Yes, locked up for a very long time.” With those words, he rested his head against her shoulder. While she waited for his body to relax, she had an idea, one that could only have come from God. She caressed his doll. “Alf, why don’t we dig a little hole in the ground next to the beautiful rose bushes you like and bury your E-nah there. She would rest comfortably in the peaceful out-of-doors. We could wrap her in one of my pretty silk scarves, say some prayers and sing a song or two. Maybe your favorite, ‘All Things Bright and Beautiful.’ What do you say?”

He trailed his fingers down her arm while his little mind worked over her suggestion. At last, he turned to her, his face just inches from hers. “E-nah’s gone. I’m sad. You—you bury her.”

That evening, she, Papa and Alf gathered around the tiny grave site. Alf cradled the doll in his arms, crooning something that sounded like an Indian chant. Then Papa said several prayers, ending with the commendation of the body. Rose led the boy to the hole and knelt beside him as he laid the doll to rest. Then he picked up a thimbleful of dirt and sprinkled it over the representation of his mother. “Be at peace,” Rose said. Then she took him by the hand and they stood. In a soft voice, she began singing, “All things bright and beautiful, / All creatures great and small, / All things wise and wonderful, / The Lord God made them all.”

“Made them all,” Alf echoed. “E-nah, Rose, Papa, Sett and ’Vinia. And Mattie, too.”

The rest of the evening Rose and her father could hardly believe the change in the boy, as if he had exorcised the memories plaguing him. Tentative smiles replaced his grim expression. In his voice was a lilt Rose had not heard since he was taken.

Lying awake long after Alf was asleep, Rose thanked God for the inspiration. Perhaps even more important, she prayed for His forgiveness for her lack of faith in Him, in questioning His purpose. Then she added Seth to her petition. He, too, had questioned. Soon, she promised herself, she would seek out Pastor Dooley and confess her recent anger at God. Seth was right. God often worked in and through other people. Those people were to be found in community, and she had cut herself off from them for too long. Despite her doubts, miracles had occurred—Alf’s deliverance once again into her care, Lavinia’s acceptance of the boy and Seth’s faithful concern for the child. Yes, all manner of things would be well.

* * *

In early October, a week after she, Caleb, Seth and Andrew returned from the cattle drive, Sophie prepared a family feast to celebrate the success of the sale of their livestock. The high prices assured both a good profit and a large reserve for the coming year. Spread on the table were beef roast, green beans with salt pork, cucumber and onion salad, pickled beets, hot rolls, honey, and freshly churned butter. Conversation was lively and full of stories from the trail. Over the dessert of blueberry pie, Sophie shocked Seth to the delight of the others. “Tonight is the night, brother dear, for you to perfect your dancing.”

“Dancing? You know I don’t dance.”

“Well,” said his determined sister, “I do know that. As of now, that condition ends.” She grinned at her father. “Pa, is your fiddle tuned up?”

Andrew grinned. “Sure is.”

Seth frowned, convinced his father and sister were in cahoots.

“It’s not hard,” Lily said by way of reassurance.

“If I can do it,” Caleb added, “you can.”

Fuming, Seth set his jaw. “The rest of you can have a merry time. I will not dance.” He shook his head. “A clumsy oaf like me? I’d be the laughing stock.”

Sophie came over to him and draped an arm around his shoulder. He knew what she was thinking. In most things he yielded to her. Not this time. He was a Goliath with snowshoes for feet. “My, my, you must’ve forgotten about the Courthouse Ball. All of Chase County will turn out, and all Montgomerys will do the occasion proud. And I do mean
all
.” Her cajoling tone set his teeth on edge. “And that includes dancing. Pa?”

Before Seth could flee, his traitor of a father had pulled out his fiddle, Lily had placed her arm in his, and Caleb stood covering the grin he couldn’t conceal. “Don’t look at them,” Lily said, “just concentrate on me. We’ll start with a simple reel.”

A cavorting chimpanzee would have been more graceful than he. At one point, Lily stepped away so she and Caleb could once again demonstrate the steps he’d ignored in their past attempts to instruct him. Then Sophie got into the act, swinging through his outstretched arm and grabbing him by the shoulder. All the while, Pa was sending contagious tunes through the air. Seth felt helpless in their hands. As the lesson wore on, he reluctantly admitted that the music was energizing. The others seemed to be having great fun, but they were experts. He was an embarrassment.