The Gift of a Child. Laura Abbot

Caleb still had his feet so firmly planted on the ground.

      Although Caleb had told him few details of his army experiences, from things Lily had said, Seth believed his brother had spoken more openly with her and that such confidences, coupled with Lily’s understanding, had been redemptive.

      The setting sun lighted the trail back to the ranch. In a way, he envied the closeness of Lily and Caleb. It seemed they could talk about anything. They must have deep trust in one another, he reflected. He himself wasn’t much of a talker. Would there ever be a woman in whom he might confide his guilt concerning the war? His concern for Sophie? His sorrow at the death of his mother?

      Not likely.

      He was almost home before a sudden recollection speared his defenses. Rose Kellogg. A week ago Sunday. He’d talked with her about Sophie...about his mother, hadn’t he? Why her? He shook his head in bewilderment and spurred his horse. Such confessions made him feel exposed. Weak. It wouldn’t happen again.

      Settling comfortably in the saddle, he studied the rolling hills, veiled in twilight shadows. He didn’t know what it was about the land but it awakened deep feelings in him, probably born of his boyhood on their Missouri farm. From the blossoms of spring to the berries of summer to the tart apples of autumn, the place had been his kingdom. He and Caleb helped with whatever chores small boys could perform, then fished in the river, rode their ponies or aimed slingshots at hapless birds. A long time ago. Before the War Between the States. Years before they moved west to start the ranch.

      Boyhood freedoms were one thing. It was more difficult to think about the time his mother died.... Baby Sophie. By all rights, he should have hated her. She’d taken his mother. But Pa never saw it that way. He’d gathered Caleb and him around the crib the day after their mother’s funeral. “Boys,” he’d said in a choked voice, “your mama is gone, but she left us this gift from God.”

      After that, there was never any question. Anybody who remotely threatened their sister met Caleb and Seth’s wrath. But that didn’t happen often. Sophie was too loveable. She’d never in her life met anyone that didn’t interest her. Seth groaned. Charlie Devane. A talented construction man, courteous with a ready laugh. Why did thinking about the fellow cause him to grind his teeth? Even if he didn’t want to admit it, he knew, of course. Sophie liked Charlie. Really liked him. Seth always thought of her as his little sister, but she was of age. She could marry.

      He was stabbed by a pang of loneliness. Home without Sophie would be like sunshine blotted out by clouds. He didn’t want to think about it. He wouldn’t. Instead, he would focus on...the cattle herd. Calves. There. That was a safe topic. Something over which he could exercise some measure of control.

      Yet to his chagrin, cattle didn’t fill his mind at all. Instead, his thoughts once more turned to Rose Kellogg, to the blush suffusing her face when he complimented her cooking.

      Rose. A safer topic than Sophie, for sure. Wasn’t it?

      * * *

      What with the rain on Monday, followed by wash day, it was Thursday before Rose, Alf and her father could manage the drive to Lily’s. At the previous night’s meeting, Caleb had told Ezra about a hired hand with a nasty lingering cough, so the trip had a twofold purpose—to offer medical advice and to plan with Lily for Lavinia’s upcoming visit.

      Lavinia and Henry Dupree had treated Lily to fine dresses, elegant social activities and the cultural outings for which she had longed. At one point Rose had feared she would lose her sister to the charms not only of metropolitan life but to the courtship of wealthy Lionel Atwood. Only later had Rose learned that Lionel, aghast at Lily’s rushing to the aid of a former slave who had been run over on the street, had spurned her, accusing Lily of publicly humiliating him. Rose sniffed. Good riddance.

      She herself barely remembered Lavinia Dupree. Only once could she remember her aunt visiting her mother’s parents and the Kelloggs in Iowa. A girl of about twelve at the time, she remembered being told to be on her best behavior and speak only when spoken to. She recalled her mother talking about Lavinia’s wealthy husband and elegant home, seeming wistful about the divergence of their paths.

      It was nearly noon when the buggy crested the hill behind Lily’s home. Breathing in the fresh spring air and reveling in the miles of prairie grass dancing in the breeze, Rose thanked God once again for bringing her and Papa here to reunite with Lily and her family. And now, Alf completed the circle. “Bird!” Alf squirmed in her lap and pointed to a fence post where a hawk surveyed the countryside.

      “That’s right. A bird. His name is Mr. Hawk.”

      Alf turned to her with a puzzled look. “Mister? He’s not a man.”

      Ezra chuckled. “Smart, that boy.”

      Rose joined in the laughter. “You’re right, Alf. I suppose his name is just ‘hawk.’”

      “Hawk.” Alf nodded several times as if to fix the information in his brain. “Bird,” he said in summary.

      As they approached the barnyard, Lily walked toward them holding Mattie, scattering the chickens pecking in the dirt. “What a treat! We’re so glad to see you.”

      Ezra helped Rose and Alf to the ground, then embraced Lily. “I’ll be back after I check on Caleb’s patient. Is the fellow in the bunkhouse?”

      “Yes. Caleb is with him. I fear he is worse this morning.”

      Mattie wriggled out of her mother’s arms and ran to embrace Alf. “Brudder. I see you.”

      The adults smiled indulgently. No amount of correcting Mattie about the meaning of brother had changed her response to Alf.

      Alf backed off, eyed the little girl and then pointed to her dress. “Blue,” he said proudly. “Blue shirt.”

      Mattie looked down as if she had never noticed her frock. “Dress, Alfie, dress,” she corrected. “Blue dress.”

      “Lemonade, anyone?” Lily gathered the children and led them into the kitchen. Rose took a lingering look at the neat, fenced yard, the large vegetable garden and sturdy stone dwelling. Lily was blessed by her surroundings.

      Inside, Rose settled at the table while Lily produced a doll and a few tin soldiers for the children, who were soon lost in a world of make-believe.

      “At last night’s meeting, I presume Papa told Caleb about Aunt Lavinia’s upcoming visit.”

      “Yes, I can’t wait to talk about it. Truth to tell, I’m completely flummoxed by the news. It’s so out of character for her. I know she must miss Uncle Henry, but she thrives on the fashions and social events she can find only in a city. The picture of her out here on the frontier both worries me and makes me chuckle. The very idea of Lavinia Dupree wearing a homespun dress!”

      Rose mustered a wan smile before speaking. “She has rented a house and is bringing her maid.”

      “So she’ll be quite near you and Papa.”

      “That’s exactly what I’m afraid of. I have no idea how to talk with her. My experience is so limited.” Then Rose moved to the crux of the matter. “And what if she’s horrified by the idea of my taking in Alf?”

      Seeing her sister’s distress, Lily leaned closer and covered Rose’s hand with her own. “I’ll be the first to admit that Aunt Lavinia can appear imposing and judgmental. Yet, in many ways, I think you may find her demeanor a mask concealing a generosity of spirit.”

      “I hope you’re right. Perhaps I’m overprotective of Alf?”

      “As you certainly should be. As we all are where our children are concerned. Alf is doing well, isn’t he?”

      Rose smiled, warming to the topic of her boy and his progress with speech and the clear evidence of his intelligence. “His sores and bruises have healed under Papa’s care and every day he comes out of his shell a bit more.”

      “I can see that.” Lily nodded to the corner