The Gift of a Child Page 7

  Just then Alf was seized with another paroxysm of coughing, and as soon as he lay back, eyes closed, Rose knew she must summon her father, who had left the bedside only an hour earlier.

  Ezra, apparently having heard the cough, appeared at the door, his nightshirt hanging at his knees.

  “Oh, Papa, it’s the cough,” Rose whispered.

  Ezra picked up his stethoscope from the bedside table and bent over the child, listening intently. “He is mightily congested.” He moved to the head of the bed. “Get another pillow. We’ll prop him up to relieve the pressure on his lungs.”

  Around three-thirty in the morning, their ministrations continuing, Alf fell into a troubled sleep, occasionally crying out “E-nah” or “Rose,” and even once, “Sett.”

  Exhausted, Rose slipped to the floor, her head resting on Alf’s bed, her prayer now reduced to “Please, God, please.”

  An hour or so later she was abruptly awakened by the sound of hoofbeats. Groggily, she lifted her head, checking to be sure Alf was still asleep.

  Soon after, she heard the back door open and her father’s whispered greeting. Who? She couldn’t puzzle it out.

  “E-nah.” A mumbled cry. Rose felt Alf’s forehead. Still hot. God, where are You?

  Her father appeared at the door. “Any change?”

  She shook her head in despair. “He hasn’t coughed quite so much, but when he does, it’s like a spasm.”

  Her father placed his hands on her tight shoulders. “Can you get some rest?”

  “I won’t leave him, Papa.”

  “In that case, perhaps you could use some additional help.” He nodded at the doorway, where, to her amazement Seth stood, dwarfing the room.

  She stared at him, as if he were an apparition. “What...?”

  “I couldn’t rest. I had such a strong premonition about Alf, so,” he shrugged, “here I am.”

  With the dullness of her mind, she could hardly credit his appearance. He had ridden from the ranch to be with Alf, the boy he held in such affection. Rose remained on the floor but nodded to a chair on the opposite side of the bed. She watched through reddened eyes as Seth settled by the boy and laid his big hand on the tiny forehead. “Hot” was all he said.

  Ezra took in the situation and then moved to the door. “Call me if anything changes.”

  Cradling Alf’s tiny hand in his, Seth sat still as a stone, his chiseled face stoic.

  In that moment, a melancholy filled Rose, so overwhelming that she could find no hope. In desperation, she reached across the bed and gripped Seth’s hand. “Pray, Seth,” she whispered urgently. “I no longer have the words.”

  Just before she lay her head back on the quilt, she noticed the panic in the big man’s eyes. He began to form the words “I can’t” before he hesitated, bowed his head and squeezed her hand in reluctant acquiescence.

  A long silence filled the room until Seth finally spoke. “Lord, You and I have only a nodding acquaintance, and I don’t know how to do this, so I’ll just offer what’s in my heart and let You do the rest.” He lowered his voice then and filled the room with soothing words. “We love Alf and figure You sent him to us for some purpose beyond our understanding. Please help him now. Remove this illness from him.” Then his voice grew husky and Rose could barely hear him. “And, Father, I beg You also to help Rose. She is a fine woman, a sheep of Your flock and a wonderful mother. You took my mother from me. Please do not take this little boy who has endured so much from Rose.” Seth hesitated, then added, “I guess that’s it, Lord. It’s in Your hands. Amen.”

  In her last moments of consciousness before falling asleep at her boy’s bedside, Rose managed a wry smile. Seth could demur all he wanted, but the man did know how to pray.

  Chapter Six

  Rose woke with a start the next morning, a shaft of sunlight falling across her face, Ulysses curled around her feet. Alf? The boy lay on his side, a cloth on his forehead, hands clasped to his chest, knees bent. Struggling to her feet, Rose became aware that sometime in the night, a blanket had been placed over her shoulders. Now she and Alf were alone in the room, his gentle exhalations filling the silence.

  A wisp of memory pecked at her. Had Seth been here? Surely she had dreamed it. She glanced around, seeing no sign of him. Yet she was certain he had prayed over Alf. Then she remembered. Claiming restlessness and worry, he had ridden into town. How long, she wondered, had he sat with the boy while she slept.

  In his sleep, Alf’s dark lashes stood in sharp contrast to his pale skin. Rose laid a hand on his shoulder, needing the reassuring physical connection. From the kitchen came the smells of coffee and bacon, and she realized she was ravenous.

  Just then Bess Stanton appeared in the door extending a large, steaming cup. “Good morning, my friend. Here’s a quick tonic.” She handed the coffee to Rose, who took a grateful sip. Then before Rose could ask the questions flooding her brain, Bess supplied the answers. “First of all, your father thought you might need help nursing Alf, so Seth fetched me. Second, while the patient still has some fever, he is much improved. He is still coughing, but neither your father nor I have heard the kind of gasping coughs associated with whooping cough. Although he will need several days of bed rest and care, Alf probably has the croup and should recover with time.”

  “Thank God,” Rose whispered, her eyes filling with tears of gratitude. She took another sip of coffee while Bess straightened Alf’s covers.

  “Now as for you, missy,” Bess rounded the end of the bed and put her arm around Rose, “I am here to assist for as long as you need me. You cannot permit yourself to get worn out. That helps no one.”

  Once more the thought occurred to Rose that if Bess stayed to help, she and Ezra might discover ways to forge a medical partnership. “If you’re certain it is convenient for you, I would welcome your support and expertise.”

  “That’s settled then. Now, let’s get some food into you.”

  Bess served Rose flapjacks and bacon, then left to sit with Alf. Ezra sat across the table, the lines of his face etched with exhaustion. He’d finished eating but set down the weekly newspaper he’d been reading when Rose joined him. “A long night, daughter.”

  “For you, too. Bess seems confident Alf will recover.”

  “I agree, but it will take time.” He removed his spectacles and rubbed his eyes. “Your friend Bess seems knowledgeable and competent.”

  “I’m glad you sent for her.”

  “Well, you’ve been dropping so many hints about how helpful she might be to me that I decided to test the proposition.”

  “And?” She paused, a forkful in the air.

  “So far, so good.” He winked at her and put his glasses back on his nose. “Young Montgomery was helpful, too. You didn’t relax until he came.”

  “I don’t understand why he was here.”

  “Never underestimate urgings that come from God.”

  Rose guided the fork to her mouth and chewed thoughtfully. Had it, indeed, been God who had roused Seth to action? “I think he cares a great deal about Alf.”

  “He’s a lonely man, Rose. A childless one with an enormous heart.”

  “Alf will be pleased to learn Seth came on his account.”

  Her father folded his newspaper, then looked at her, a glint of amusement in his blue eyes. “Alf is part of it, but I suspect not all of it.”

  Rose trembled as she comprehended the unspoken implication, but before she could quiz her father further, he’d gathered his hat and exited the back door. She sat in stunned silence, absently stroking Ulysses whose purrs failed to soothe her. Surely Seth’s visit had nothing to do with her.

  After breakfast, she and Bess gave Alf a sponge bath and changed his nightclothes. Listless, he watched them with big dark eyes. “Sick,” he said. “Cough.”

 
“Yes, but you’re getting better. You were quite ill last night. Mrs. Stanton and I are taking good care of you.”

  “Sett, too.”

  “Yes, Seth, too.” Rose was surprised. Alf must’ve awakened at some point during Seth’s vigil.

  “Sett singed to me.”

  The idea of that giant of a man sitting tenderly by the boy’s bedside singing lullabies rocked her. Looking now at her boy, Rose realized that on top of everything else, Seth’s prayers had borne fruit.

  Bess bustled about folding linens and towels before approaching Alf. “How does your throat feel?”

  “Hurts.”

  Rose watched while Bess fluffed the pillows and then helped Alf drink a spoonful of the cough preparation she had made for him. In a few minutes he closed his eyes and was soon fast asleep.

  The women tiptoed from the room. As they tidied the kitchen, Rose asked Bess about her life in the East.

  “My husband and I lived in Maine. When he was called into service for the Union, I was restless, and since we had not been blessed with children, I vowed to do what I could to help. Nurses were needed, and as I had always been the one to tend to sick family and neighbors, I volunteered to work in field hospitals.” She paused, as if recalling painful images from the past, the sunlight highlighting the silver in her hair. “It was heartbreaking but necessary work. When my husband was killed at Gettysburg, all I wanted to do was run home and bury myself in grief.” She turned to Rose with a sad smile. “But I couldn’t. Those wounded soldiers had wives and sweethearts who were counting on me to restore their menfolk, even as mine would never be restored. How could I turn my back on them?” She shrugged.

  Rose marveled at her resilience and faith. “I sense that purpose would make everything better here.”

  “Oh, yes. I’m pleased that your father called on me to help with Alf.”

  “He’s tired, Bess. The strain of his practice is taking its toll. I will encourage him to welcome your assistance.” Rose moved a stack of clean plates into the cupboard. “How long do you think it will be before Alf is recovered?”

  “A week, more or less.”

  Thinking aloud, Rose said, “He should be well, then, when Aunt Lavinia comes.”

  “You’re having company?”

  Rose filled Bess in about her aunt and the surprising journey she was making to Kansas.

  “My, she will discover Cottonwood Falls is quite different from St. Louis.”

  “How will she react to our frontier ways?”

  Bess untied her apron and laid it on the back of a chair. “We’ll just have to think about what might entertain her. To begin with, we can invite her to the Library Society meetings.”

  “Lily says she’s not much of a reader.”

  Bess raised one eyebrow. “Oh, really? Think about it, Rose. How many of our members are genuine students of literature? A few, I’ll grant you, but most come for the refreshments and gossip. And then there’s the Courthouse Ball. We could use your aunt’s help to make it as elegant as possible.”

  Rose was confused. “What ball?”

  “It’s just been announced. It is to be quite the grand affair in celebration of the completion of the courthouse. Along with several others, I have been asked to serve on a committee to plan the event scheduled for mid-October.” She clapped her hands enthusiastically. “It’s going to be quite wonderful.”

  Rose wasn’t much for gala festivities. She’d always left such occasions to Lily, yet she, along with the entire community, would want to honor the courthouse completion. “Those activities should offer at least some diversion for Aunt Lavinia.”

  Bess eyed her speculatively. “You sound apprehensive. What is it, Rose?”

  “I fear she shall find me wanting.” Turning away, Rose stared out the kitchen window, unwilling for Bess to see her level of distress.

  Her friend came to her and put an arm around her shoulder. “Why would you say such a thing?”

  “I am a simple person. She’s elegant and proper. Alf is my world. How can she possibly accept a half-breed foundling?”

  Bess squeezed her shoulder, then began talking softly. “It occurs to me that some powerful impulse within your aunt is bringing her here. You are family, and I suspect she is in dire need of all of you. You have nothing of which to be ashamed, quite the contrary. You have saved Alf from we know not what. Leave it to God time to work in your aunt’s heart.”

  A variety of emotions warred within Rose. “You’re suggesting I show her love, rather than being defensive about Alf...or myself.”

  Bess pivoted Rose around so they faced one another. Holding her by the upper arms, the older woman smiled gently. “You will know what to do and how to be patient while God does His work within Lavinia.”

  Rose bowed her head and whispered, “Thank you.”

  The moment was broken by the sound of coughing coming from the bedroom. “Don’t be alarmed,” Bess said, as she turned toward the bedroom. “This is natural and will pass.”

  Rose trailed her down the hall, praying silently for Alf’s recovery and in thanksgiving for Bess.

  * * *

  Folderol. That’s what it was. Folderol. Seth had no understanding of why the farm wagon wasn’t good enough for Lily and Rose’s Aunt Lavinia, but, no, Lily had insisted and, of course, Caleb was putty in his wife’s hands. Two buggies. One for Caleb and the grand lady, and one for him and the maid. Seth had been dragooned at the last minute when Ezra had a call over Elmdale way and couldn’t be back in time to meet the train. Fortunately the travelers had sent ahead the bulk of their baggage, already ensconced in the fine house Lavinia Dupree had let. Seth fumed. He had work to do on the ranch. This errand was a nuisance, but then, his brother asked so little of him. Besides, he was curious.

  So here they were at the end of this first week in June, lined up by the tracks at the new Strong City railroad stop just a little ways from Cottonwood Falls. Caleb seemed calm, but Seth’s nerves were ajangle, a condition exacerbated by the thrumming of the tracks and the long whistle as the locomotive neared, belching and screeching as it pulled into the station and hissed to a stop. Stepping down from the passenger car was a slightly built young woman with rosy cheeks and curly blond hair trailing from beneath a straw hat. Before even looking around, she held out her hand and assisted an older woman from the train. There, in all her glory, stood Lavinia Dupree. Seth’s jaw gaped. Never had he seen such richness of material or so ornate a traveling costume. The hat alone must have weighed five pounds. As if making a grand entrance at the opera, the woman walked toward his brother, holding out her hand. “Caleb, dear boy.”

  “Aunt Lavinia, I hope I may call you that. We are delighted to welcome you to Kansas.”

  “Certainly, ‘Aunt Lavinia.’” Only then did the woman look at her surroundings. Then with a sniff, she merely said, “Kansas, yes. Well, we shall see.”

  Caleb turned to Seth. “May I present my brother Seth Montgomery.”

  Lavinia Dupree eyed him up and down. “You’re a rancher, too.” Her tone suggested he might reek of dung. “And this,” she said with an airy wave of her hand, “is Hannah Foster, my maid.”

  The younger woman had retrieved their valises and waited two or three steps behind Lavinia. She simply nodded.

  Caleb motioned toward the rudimentary depot. “Perhaps you ladies would like to wash up before we start for Cottonwood Falls. Let us take your bags. Our buggies are over here.”

  During the two-mile ride, Seth could not imagine what his brother was finding to say to Lavinia. Thankfully, he had been blessed with Hannah, who was full of questions about the countryside and her new town. Seth had heard enough about Lavinia Dupree from Rose, Lily and Caleb to be dumbfounded that she would deliberately choose to come to an environment so alien to her own, where she might find shortcomings at e
very turn. But she was Rose and Lily’s blood relative, and surely that blood would ultimately tell.

  His generosity of spirit lasted only the better part of an hour. Before going to the leased house, it had been decided to stop first at the Kelloggs’, where Lily was waiting, so that the family might welcome Lavinia together. Spotting the doctor’s buggy out back, Seth was relieved Ezra had returned from his call.

  As Caleb handed Lavinia down, she glanced around and Seth heard her remark, “How quaint everything looks.” Quaint! Seth rolled his eyes. Cottonwood Falls was not some jolly little village existing merely for the amusement of tourists.

  Just then, the front door opened and Lily came running out, followed by Ezra. Rose, however, waited in the shadows of the front porch, holding Alf. Seth watched as Lily embraced her aunt and then as Ezra picked up his sister-in-law’s hand. “Lavinia, you honor us with your visit.”

  After Lavinia introduced Hannah, Lily laced her arm through her aunt’s and started toward the house. “Please come inside. Rose has made some delicious lemonade and shortbread to welcome you. I’m sure you must be famished. And thirsty, too.”

  Trailed by Hannah and the men, they were nearly to the porch when Lavinia stopped. “Rose. Where is Rose?”

  Seth watched Rose, still shrinking in the shadows, willing her some confidence. “Here I am, Aunt Lavinia.” Still holding Alf, Rose stepped into the sunlight. “We hope you had a satisfactory trip.”

  “I’m here. That’s the main thing,” Lavinia said, dismissing the question. “It has been a long time since we visited back in Iowa,” she continued, eyeing Rose with a birdlike tilt of the head. “You’re quite a young lady now. That’s to be expected, I suppose.”

  “Fifteen years makes a difference,” Rose responded with asperity.