The Gift of a Child

Grinning, Ezra patted Rose’s leg. “We’d best follow. I doubt Seth and Sophie are planning to go clear into town. Nice of them to give Alf a ride, though.”

“We’ll probably never hear the end of it.”

“Right. ‘Big. Brown. White. Horse.’”

Rose nodded, silently filling in another of Alf’s new words, a word that was becoming increasingly important to her, as well. Sett. She drew herself up short. It was nonsense to dwell on such foolish notions and risk jeopardizing a perfectly good friendship.

Chapter Five (#ulink_d63ca00e-5b72-5ab6-b430-bd546756df27)

Seth relinquished Alf into Rose’s care, and he and Sophie turned for home, trotting side by side. Seth could tell his sister was itching to say something, and the urge finally got the best of her. “Well, now, brother dear, what was that all about?”

Seth pulled his hat down over his eyes, determined to avoid his sister’s knowing smirk. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Balderdash. You’re quite attached to that little fellow. And he to you.”

“So?”

“You’ll have to be careful not to let him down. In his young life, he’s probably had more than his share of disappointments.” She waited, as if permitting him the opportunity to think about his role. “To prevent that from happening, you’ll have to spend a good deal of time with him.”

He knew what she was going to say before she said it, and sure enough, the next words out of Sophie’s mouth were “and with Rose.”

He grimaced. The situation was a double-edged sword. On the one hand, Sophie was right. He was attached to Alf. He liked the boy. But if he was honest, he also liked Rose and found himself thinking about her way too often. To put an end to Sophie’s probing, he responded, “I’ll spend time with them when it suits my convenience, but I won’t be making any special trips to town.”

Sophie shot him a skeptical look but had the grace to keep her mouth shut the rest of the way back to the ranch.

The silence, instead of comforting him, was unnerving, especially since now, as if the power of suggestion held sway over him, all he could think about was Rose. She was a good woman in every way. He liked talking to her and watching her being such a caring mother for Alf. He squelched the longing rising deep in his chest. He so wanted to be someone’s father, but he’d long ago decided he couldn’t do that to himself or to some innocent woman, no matter how much he loved her. He’d watched his own mother die giving birth. He’d witnessed his father crumple at her bedside, wailing out his pain.

Marriage was serious business and it didn’t always end happily. Oh, he entertained fantasies about having the kind of union Caleb and Lily had, but fate was capricious. There were no guarantees. It was cleaner, simpler to live the bachelor life, enjoying other people’s children without any of the responsibility. That way he could be at peace with the God he often questioned and avoid causing pain for others.

Seth saw his father waiting for them at the barn. After they’d stabled their horses, Sophie hurried into the house to begin dinner preparations, but Andrew laid a hand on Seth’s shoulder. After discussing the herd and the upcoming banknote due date, his father came to the point. “You’re mighty fond of that little Alf.” When Seth merely nodded, his father went on. “Children take to you. Have you thought about settling down, getting married?”

Seth groaned, suspecting his father and sister had been discussing his single state, and that they were in cahoots. “Yep. I reckon it’s not for me.”

There was no escaping his father’s steely gaze. “Why not?”

Seth struggled for words, then simply shrugged.

“It’s because of your mother.”

Seth swallowed, unable to speak.

His father planted his hands on his son’s knees. “Look at me. I know what you’re thinking. You were there that night. You saw something no small boy should ever witness.” Andrew heaved a deep sigh. “It was horrible and made no sense, but sometimes bad things just happen. Whatever you may think, though, God didn’t fail us. He sent us beautiful Sophie.” He leaned back then, folding his arms across his chest. “I don’t know much, son, but I know this. Love is worth the risk. You’ve always shied away from that risk.”

Stunned, Seth realized this was more truth from his father than he’d ever heard. “I don’t want to hurt anybody,” he said.

“Can’t promise that, Seth.”

Maybe if he weren’t so methodical, dissecting everything. If he could ever, just once, be passionate about a woman, then...but that was foolishness. He had no idea even how to court one. “It’s just who I am, Pa.”

His father stood up and pulled his pipe out of his shirt pocket. “Maybe, maybe not. Be open, son. God has great things in store for you.” Andrew struck a match on his boot, then puffed on his pipe, the savory tobacco aroma filling the air.

Seth wanted to believe his father, but it was difficult. “Best get washed up,” he said, then walked toward the house, all the while sensing his father’s eyes on his back.

* * *

Friday was baking day and after wiping down the table, Rose stood back in satisfaction, inhaling the yeasty smell of bread and surveying the pastries in the pie safe. Alf sat contentedly munching on a warm slice lathered with apple butter and sprinkled with cinnamon. Rose placed her hands in the small of her aching back and stretched, then took off her flour-dusted apron and turned to Alf. “How about a walk around town?”

He clapped his sticky hands. “See some horses?”

Rose laughed. “Yes, indeed, but first finish your bread so you can wash up.”

The boy took another big bite and looked at her with sparkling eyes. After he’d finished, she washed his hands and face, and they set off down the street. For Alf, exercise was not the point of their excursion—it was discovery. First he hunkered to examine a woolly caterpillar, then skipped on down the street to pluck a dandelion from a neighbor’s lawn. “Here, Rose. I give you a posy.” Rose smiled, knowing no exotic orchid would ever be as beautiful.

Along the way they stopped to visit with several friends. But spotting Sheriff Jensen striding toward them, Rose stepped into his path and with trepidation asked the question looming over her every thought. “Any news concerning Alf?”

He removed his hat and with a slight bow said, “Nothing yet. Sorry.”

After they parted, Rose sighed with no small amount of guilt, grateful that the lack of news ensured her continued care of Alf.

Later, at the corner of Broadway, Bertha Britten approached, her black hat perched just so on her massed hair, one spindly arm hooked into the handle of a shopping basket. Head down, as if on an important mission, she nearly ran into them. “Bertha, good afternoon.”

The woman stopped dead in her tracks and stared at Rose. “I’m sorry. I don’t have time to palaver. I’m in a hurry.”

Alf tugged on Rose’s skirt, “I seed this lady before.”

“Yes, in church. Bertha, you remember my Alf.”

Inexplicably, Bertha’s face turned red. “Of course, I remember, but I hardly think he’s ‘your’ Alf. Why, you’re not even married.” She hoisted her basket in front of her chest like a shield. “Now, excuse me, but I have other things to do.” She brushed past them, tsking as she went.

Rose sagged against a hitching post. Alf sneezed, then tugged on her arm. “That’s a mean lady. C’mon. Get away.” When Rose looked down, his little face was one big frown. She took a handkerchief from her pocket and wiped his nose.

“She could have been nicer, but we’re not going to let her ruin our day, are we? Look over there.” She pointed to the livery stable where two horses were just being saddled.

“Horses!” He broke away from her. “Sett!”

“Oh, no, honey. Those horses are for other men. Seth is working at the ranch.”

His eyes widened in disappointment. “Far away?”

“Yes, but you’ll see him Sunday at church.”

“Sunday. Sett. Good.” He swung her hand back and forth as he led her to study the horses. “Big horse. Brown. Little one. Gray.” He stared at the horseflesh with all the interest of a livestock broker.

Finally Rose succeeded in dragging him away, but not before he’d sneezed several times. Dust from the livery, no doubt. She wanted to go by the nearly completed courthouse, which loomed impressively above the prairie. Just then, though, in the shadow of a basement door overhang, she noticed a couple, oblivious to the world, entwined in an embrace.

Rose stopped in her tracks, aware of a strange tingling in her chest. Once she had known such stolen moments, had felt whiskers caress her face and had melted through and through as warm lips sought hers. What a fool she had been, actually picturing herself swept into the dashing sergeant’s arms and carried off to a future of loving nights, of babies, of actually daring to think of herself as desirable. And maybe he had cared for her. More likely, not. Loneliness can make a man do strange things.

She would never forget her humiliation that day at Fort Larned when she had wandered into the sutler’s just at mail call and seen one of the officers waving a letter and calling out, “Hey, Sarge, lucky you. Here’s a letter from your wife.”