The Gift of a Child Page 3

  He relaxed against her. “Nawah,” he said in a cracked voice.

  She had no idea what the nonsense syllables meant, but she decided to answer in kind. “Nawah,” she crooned. “Nawah.”

  He laid his head on her shoulder and began sucking his fist.

  “Oh, little one, you must be hungry.” She stood and still clutching him to her, managed to put on her wrapper. “Let’s see what we can find.”

  In the kitchen, her father had already stoked the fire and was boiling water on the stove. Rose had an inspiration. “Nawah,” she said to Ezra, who raised his eyes speculatively.

  To her surprise and joy, the boy pointed at Ezra and whispered, “Nawah.”

  Catching on to Rose’s ploy, Ezra looked straight at the child and said, “Nawah, Alf.”

  “Alf,” the boy echoed as if commending the older man for his acumen.

  Rose gently set the boy on her father’s lap. “Let me get him some bread.”

  Rose sliced a thick piece, buttered it and slathered on some plum jam. Alf picked up the bread and attacked it as if he hadn’t seen food in days. How distressing to think he’d been ill fed, Rose thought, as she quickly set a skillet on the stove for ham and eggs and poured a glass of milk, which she handed to her father to give to the boy.

  “Nawah is a Pawnee word of greeting,” Ezra said.

  “How do you know that?”

  “From the occasional Indian I treated at Fort Larned.”

  “Do you think he’s Pawnee?”

  “From the looks of him, I’d say he has at least some Indian blood.” Her father rolled up one of the child’s pant legs. “See these bruises? I reckon he’s had some tough times lately.”

  Rose gasped at the thought that just came to her. “Do you think someone’s abused him?”

  “Possibly. Or maybe he’s been out on the prairie for a time. Hard to tell.”

  The mere thought that the child might have been mistreated roused Rose’s ire and concern. “He could be safe with us, Papa,” she said in a not-so-subtle attempt to avoid the inevitable actions her father had planned.

  Ezra held the glass of milk and guided the boy’s hands around his so that he could drink. “Please, no arguments. We are obliged to do what we must to locate the parents or relatives.”

  Tending to the eggs and ham sizzling in the skillet, Rose bit her lip lest she scream out her opposition. Alf slithered from her father’s grasp and walked across the floor to her, clutching her around the knees with his jam-sticky hands. “E-nah?” he said. Then he moved toward the door, crying more insistently, “E-nah?” Rose looked helplessly at Ezra.

  “I think he’s looking for his mother. As I recall, E-nah is Pawnee for ‘mother.’”

  The boy pounded on the door, repeating his cry. Rose approached him and led him back to the table, where she sat down, pulling him into her lap and uttering soothing sounds.

  Ezra stepped to the stove and dished up the food. As Rose spooned egg into Alf’s mouth, his trembling subsided and then he said another word: “Good.”

  Relief flooded Rose. The boy might know more English than she had first thought. “Yes, good,” she echoed.

  Ulysses came into the kitchen, pausing in the doorway to stretch, yawn and lick his lips.

  Alf watched the animal warily. Ulysses paused at the table, rubbing his furry back across Alf’s leg. The boy recoiled in alarm, but when Ulysses repeated the motion, he leaned forward to watch. “Cat,” he finally said, then turned to look at Rose. “My cat?”

  “Our cat,” Rose gently corrected. “Our cat.”

  After breakfast, with great difficulty, Rose and Ezra succeeded in divesting the boy of his threadbare clothes and getting him into the wash tub. His limbs displayed bruises, both old and new, and his skinny body suggested poor nutrition. After wrapping him in a warm towel, Ezra proceeded to examine him while Rose stood anxiously by.

  “For the hardships, of whatever kind, that he’s had to endure, he’s in fair shape,” he said. “Medically, he’s a trifle malnourished and his growth is a bit stunted for a boy I’d guess is around four. He seems somewhat detached emotionally, but fear will do that. I suspect English has been his second language, thus affecting his facility in it. For as long as we have him, he will need lots of love and attention.”

  Rose could do that. But she quailed at her father’s words, “For as long as we have him.” Right then and there, she made a bargain with God. You have given this child into my care, Lord, and I will tend him with all my heart and soul. Help me to be part of Your greater plan for Alf and to accept Your will for him.

  As she carefully redressed Alf in his tattered clothes, her father picked up his hat and turned to her with words that scalded her ears. “I’m off to the mercantile store to find some new togs for the little feller. After that, I’m obligated to notify Sheriff Jensen.”

  Rose shrugged, unable to summon words of farewell.

  * * *

  Seth glanced with satisfaction at the lumber stacked in the wagon. Last week he’d hired two more ranch hands, necessitating an addition to the bunkhouse. Before he hauled his load home, he needed to stop at the mercantile to pick up items for Sophie and Lily. Entering the store, he was greeted by Horace Clay, the proprietor. “What brings you to town, Montgomery?”

  “We needed supplies from the lumberyard. No way, though, would the ladies let me escape without filling their list.” Reaching in his pocket, he handed Clay a creased piece of paper.

  Scanning it, Clay nodded. “Shouldn’t take long. Make yourself at home.”

  Seth looked around, uncomfortable in the cramped space crowded with bolts of cloth, tobacco tins, cosmetic potions and ladies’ fineries. After walking aimlessly up and down the aisles, he decided to wait on the bench out front. When he opened the door to leave, he was nearly bowled over by Doc Kellogg.

  “Whoa, Ezra. What’s your rush?”

  “Sorry, Seth. I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m in a hurry.”

  Clay looked up from filling Seth’s order. “Doc, can I help you?”

  “I certainly hope so.” He glanced around uncertainly. “Do you carry any ready-made children’s clothes?”

  Curious about the doctor’s request, Seth edged closer.

  “Not many. Some dungarees and shirts. A few pairs of shoes. What size?”

  When Ezra shrugged in bafflement and held his hand thigh-high, Clay rounded the counter and led him toward the back of the store. “Let’s see what I’ve got.”

  Seth scratched his head. He’d rarely seen the doctor so agitated or secretive. After a few minutes of mumbled conversation, the two men reappeared with a stack of clothing and one small pair of shoes. “Lemme get Doc fixed up,” Clay said, “and then I’ll finish your order.”

  When Ezra turned around with his wrapped bundle, he ducked his head at Seth in a follow-me gesture. Once outside the store, Ezra mopped his brow, then looked straight at Seth. “We’ve got us a...situation. One Lily needs to know about today. Can you get her a message?”

  “Sure can. Is it anything I can help with?”

  The older man sighed as if considering options, then spoke quietly. “Before you leave town, stop by the house. You’ll see.”

  “Certainly.”

  Without saying more, Ezra walked quickly away.

  Seth watched him, puzzled by their exchange, then went back inside the mercantile to claim his packages. Climbing into the wagon, he guided his team toward the Kelloggs’ home. Leaving the wagon by Doc’s barn, he knocked on the kitchen door. Ezra answered and ushered him inside. “We had a visitor last night,” he said in a neutral tone.

  Just then Rose entered the room carrying a thin, raven-haired boy who buried his head in her shoulder when he saw Seth. Surprised by the sight, Seth turned to Ezra. “A patient?”
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br />   “In a manner of speaking.”

  “He’s more than that.” Rose looked at her father as if daring him to contradict her. “This is Alf. He’s been given to me.”

  “Temporarily. For safekeeping,” her father said.

  Seth sank into a chair, discomfited by the uncharacteristic tension between father and daughter. “Where did he come from?”

  “God,” said Rose at the same time her father said, “A desperate parent.”

  Seth looked from one to the other, confused. “What’s going on?”

  Rose and her father joined him at the table. The boy took a peek at Seth, and Rose bent her head, kissing the top of his head. Then she looked up. “I found him.” In words laden with wonder, she explained about the note.

  “Alf,” Seth said, nodding. “A strong name.”

  Again the boy peeked at him. “Nawah,” he said in a tiny voice.

  Seth looked quizzically at Rose, who nodded encouragement. “Nawah,” Seth said.

  “Big,” the boy answered.

  Seth couldn’t help himself. He laughed and spread his arms wide. “Big? Yes, I’m big.” Impulsively he slipped to the floor, sat and folded his knees to his chest, making himself as small as possible. “Little.”

  The boy eyed him as if trying to decide whether he was friend or foe.

  “Little man now.” Then the boy smiled.

  Seth would never be able to explain what happened next, but to his astonishment, Alf wriggled from Rose’s grasp, edged toward him and sat facing him, mimicking his position. “Boy. Little, too.”

  Seth nodded, then, seized by an inspiration, hooked his hands under the child’s arms, stood and lifted him above his head. “Now the boy is big.”

  This time Alf giggled aloud, and in the background Seth heard Rose gasp. “I don’t believe it,” she said. “You have a magic touch with him.”

  Lowering Alf and cradling him to his chest, Seth was overcome by an emotion he couldn’t name—part protectiveness, part an inexplicable kinship. He pointed to Alf and repeated his name. Then he pointed to himself. “Seth. I am Seth.”

  Alf eyed him curiously, then stroked Seth’s trimmed beard. “Sett. Big. Little. Good.” Then he squirmed around in Seth’s arms to look at Rose and Ezra. “Sett,” he said decisively, as if introducing the man to them.

  In the next half hour, Seth heard the full story—Alf’s discovery, their concern for his safety and health, the need for clothing and Ezra’s plan to notify the sheriff. Seth noticed Rose’s frown when her father mentioned the sheriff. From her earlier comments, he had deduced she hoped to claim the boy as her own.

  Before Seth rose to leave, he set Alf down and knelt to be nearer eye level. “Alf, I am happy to meet you. Miss Rose will take good care of you.” Then he stood and picked up his hat.

  Alf waved at him. “Bye.”

  Ezra, too, picked up his hat. “Rose, I’m off to see Lars Jensen now.”

  Seth could hardly bear to look at Rose, whose wistful expression tore at his heart.

  When the two men reached the barn, Ezra laid a hand on Seth’s shoulders. “You will let Lily and Caleb know. Rose will need Lily’s advice.”

  “I’ll go there directly.”

  The older man’s shoulders slumped. “I know what Rose wants, but I can’t ignore the ramifications of what has happened. I must inform the sheriff.”

  Seth nodded at his wagon. “Can I give you a lift? I’ll pass right by the office.”

  “Wouldn’t say no,” the doctor said.

  The two men fell silent as they rode along, each lost in his own thoughts. Before they reached their destination, Seth wondered whether the footprints he and Sophie had discovered several days ago might provide helpful evidence. One adult. One child. He turned to Ezra. “I’m coming with you.”

  * * *

  Midmorning of the next day, Rose heard a buggy pull in front of the house and out stepped her sister. Picking up Alf, she raced outside. “Lily, oh, Lily.” Overcome by emotion, she couldn’t go on, burying her head in her sister’s embrace.

  In Lily’s eyes she read all the concern and love she had expected. “This must be Alf,” Lily said. She grazed a hand over the boy’s head. “A wonder.” She held out her arms, but Alf remained stubbornly in Rose’s grasp. Lily turned and lifted a basket from the buggy. “I’ve brought a few play things. A set of blocks, a book of nursery rhymes and a wooden wagon model.” She looped her hand through Rose’s free arm and started toward the house. “I think what we should do is make a list of his needs and solicit our friends and neighbors.”

  “But no one knows he’s here yet.” Something clenched inside Rose. She wanted to keep Alf a secret for a bit longer and avoid sharing his story with the curious and the critical.

  Lily raised an eyebrow and chuckled. “Darling Rose, you know better. Seth said Papa was at the mercantile and that they both went to the sheriff’s office. Believe me, the word is out. I’m just relieved to get here in time to fend off all the folks who will be stopping by to hear about Alf.”

  Rose kissed the top of Alf’s head. “So soon?”

  In Lily’s expression, she read sympathy tinged with reproach. “The child is yours for now. I have a suspicion what that means to you. What you would like to see happen.” They had reached the front door, and Lily turned to her. “Rose, I will tell you what Mother would say. This little boy is God’s own child. Right now, He is using your hands and heart to tend him. Pray for His will to be done for Alf...and for you.”

  Rose acknowledged the truth of her sister’s advice, but it would be difficult to be patient, hoping that the sheriff never found Alf’s parents. She cringed—that was an unworthy sentiment. How could she wish that a child be permanently separated from his mother and father? That was a sin even beyond envying her sister’s good fortune in giving birth to Mattie. Was she acting from purely selfish motives? Just then Alf left her embrace to run across the floor to pick up Ulysses.

  Lily chuckled. “My, that cat has certainly taken to your boy.”

  “As have I,” Rose murmured. In that moment, she felt a ray of hope. Surely God wouldn’t give her Alf just to rip him away from her. The God she worshipped would never be that heartless.

  Chapter Three

  Carrying Ulysses with him, Alf retreated into a corner of the kitchen, his back turned on Rose and Lily, his attention centered on the blocks Lily had given him. He made not a sound, only occasionally turning his head as if to assure himself Rose was still in the room. Rose fixed tea for herself and her sister, then joined Lily at the kitchen table. Lily pulled a piece of paper and a pencil from her pocket. “Let’s make a list of the boy’s needs. I know others will want to help either by sewing or passing along hand-me-downs.” She licked the pencil tip and began. “Undergarments, trousers, shirts, stockings...” Her voice faltered. Rose stared off in the distance, knowing she should be contributing to the list but unable to think. Her sister gripped her forearm. “Rose, are you all right?”

  Rose’s eyes filled with tears and she nodded at the boy quietly building a wall of blocks. In a whisper she said, “It’s hard to plan, when he may be taken from me at any moment.”

  “You must care for him gladly for as long as you have him.” Lily eyed her with concern. “It’s only realistic to assume his parents will be found.”

  “I know.” Rose struggled to explain. “Sheriff Jensen came yesterday morning after Papa and Seth informed him of our situation. He asked all kinds of questions. How had I found the boy? Had I noticed any strangers skulking about in the past few days? Had the boy said anything to provide clues?” Rose pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and swiped at her tears. “He searched the barn, examined the note, then tried to talk to Alf, who buried his head in my shoulder and wouldn’t even look at the sheriff. All the while I wanted to stop the investiga
tion, to beg the man to leave us be.”

  “Oh, Rose. I know how attached you’ve become to Alf, but he is not yours.”

  “But in my heart he is, Lily, he is.” She lowered her voice. “Did Papa tell you we suspect he’s been mistreated?”

  “If that is so, let us hope such callous, unworthy parents will not be found.”

  “I pray that may be the case.”

  “Sheriff Jensen is only doing his duty, Rose.”

  “I know that. He’s already notifying law enforcement offices throughout the region and is having one of his deputies draw up and distribute posters.” She caught her breath. “I can’t bear to think of Alf’s picture on display all over the territory.”

  “But if it helps?” Her sister gazed into her eyes, as if by a look she could force reason.

  “You think I’m being foolish.”

  “Not foolish, my dear. I know you already love the boy, but I don’t want to see you get your heart broken.” Lily paused, as if garnering resolve. “You’ve always been the more practical of the two of us. You know a search is the right and necessary thing to do.”

  Rose bit her lip, her emotions at war with her intellect. Finally, she nodded. “It’s so hard.”

  “I understand, but in the time you have with little Alf, you must live as Mother always did.”

  Rose paused to reflect on her precious mother and her difficult last days at Fort Larned. The influenza had ultimately carried her off. Yet even at the last, she’d admonished her daughters with the words Rose now repeated. “We only have today. Live each moment fully.”