Laura Abbot - The Gift of a Child

At noon, her father, the town doctor, had received an urgent summons from a man whose wife was experiencing a difficult labor, so he had been forced to miss the social and had not yet returned.

Rose moved among the stragglers, thanking them for their efforts. At last, she reluctantly made her way home, where only Ulysses, her large gray tomcat, would offer companionship. Reaching the house, she glanced at the sun, an hour or two short of setting, and decided to fix a glass of lemonade and rest a while on the front porch.

She settled herself in the wicker rocker and sipped her lemonade. Rose reflected that after years of looking out on a dusty cavalry post, it was pleasant to live on a tree-lined street where she could study the neighbors’ houses and watch the passing pedestrian and horse traffic. Off in the distance rose the clock tower of the nearly completed county courthouse, modeled on the French Renaissance style. Three stories high, it was built of native limestone blocks quarried nearby, hand-cut and then transported by wagon to the site. Rose was still awed by such architectural grandeur here on the prairie.

Ulysses lazed on the floor beside her. She had found him cowering under the back stoop the day they moved into the house, his gray fur tangled and one ear missing a small chunk. At the fort, they had never had a pet, so she had enjoyed fattening up Ulysses.

“Afternoon, Miss Rose.” At the sound of the male voice, the cat skittered off into the yard.

Lost in her thoughts, Rose had not noticed Seth Montgomery coming up the walk.

He stood awkwardly, one foot on the first porch step. “You mind if I sit a spell?”

“Please.” Rose gestured to a straight-backed wooden rocker. “You’re always welcome.” Seth removed his hat, and the two sat wordlessly until Rose asked, “What occasions your stay in town after the ice cream social?”

“No occasion, really. Pa rode on home, but I’m waiting with the buggy for Sophie.”

Rose was never one to pry, but something in Seth’s tone impelled her to inquire. “What delays your sister?”

Seth shuffled in his chair, then stretched out his feet. “I may as well say it.” The man could never be considered garrulous, and he was clearly uncomfortable. Rose waited. Finally he blurted, “Charlie Devane.”

Rose stifled a chuckle. “And the two of them—?”

“On a buggy ride. Together.” His face clouded over. “I reckon maybe he’s courting her.”

“Your sister is quite attractive. Something like this was bound to happen sooner or later.”

“Later.”

Rose couldn’t help herself. She laughed out loud. “Dear me,” she sputtered when her breath returned, “you are one protective brother.” Then, in that same instant, she sobered, remembering her own older brother, killed at the Battle of Lookout Mountain.

Seth grinned sheepishly and hung his head. “It’s stupid of me, but I’m hard put to picture our home without Sophie.”

“Change is difficult.”

The creaking of the rockers on the wooden floor filled the silence.

He looked up. “Maybe like it was for you when Lily spent those months in St. Louis with your aunt.”

“Exactly. I didn’t know how I would manage without her. We’d never been apart.”

He folded his hands across his chest, lacing his fingers. “Same with me when Caleb left for the war. But Sophie? She’s been with us since the day she was born.”

“I can’t imagine how difficult it was for you when your mother died. It’s a wonder you didn’t resent Sophie.”

“Couldn’t. Pa said God sent us Sophie to love.”

“And you have. All three of you.”

“There’re seasons in life. You can’t work the land and not recognize that fact. The same way I’m never ready when winter comes, I reckon I’m not ready to let Sophie go.”

Rose had a sudden intuition. “Seth, I hope you know that you have a whole family that cares about you. Your father, Caleb, Lily and Mattie. Pa and me. Whatever happens with Sophie and Charlie, we’re here.”

“I appreciate that.”

Out in the street, a wagon rattled past bearing a whole passel of children, laughing and hollering. “Look at that, would you?” Rose said.

“Carefree times.”

Rose detected sadness in his voice. “But not carefree times for you?”

He stopped rocking. “No, ma’am. I worry about how my father and I will manage.”

“Without a woman, you mean?”

“Exactly. We menfolk are skilled at farming and ranching, but we’re no housekeepers.”

She was touched by his vulnerability. “You’ve just named the solution.”

He sat forward. “I have?”

“A housekeeper. You and your father could hire a woman to perform domestic duties.”

The relief in his face amused her.

“I’ve pondered that idea. It’s a better solution than marrying just any woman.”

“Seth. When you marry, it should be for love.”

“I know that in my head, but sometimes my worries get the better of me.”

“My mother had a saying that might help. She would always remind us, ‘All will be well. All manner of things shall be well.’”

Seth fixed his eyes on hers and reached over to cover her hand with his own. “I pray it may be so, Rose.” He lingered a moment, searching her face as if some elusive answer could be found there. Then, abruptly, he stood, gathered up his hat and bowed. “Thank you for your counsel. I’ll think on what you’ve said.”

Rose got to her feet and walked with him toward the street, as always impressed by his tall, hard-muscled frame. Unlatching the gate, she turned on impulse and said, “If circumstances such as today’s bring you to town again, you are always welcome here.” Unexpectedly her heart beat a little faster. Usually the two of them were surrounded by family, but something was different about today. She realized she had treasured the time alone with him.

He doffed his hat and started off down the street. Although she couldn’t be certain, she thought she heard him mumbling under his breath, “‘All manner of things shall be well.’”

* * *

Lost in his thoughts, Seth was hardly aware of driving the buggy and was letting the horse find the familiar way back to the ranch. When Sophie had returned to the livery stable with Charlie, she had seemed downright giddy, and his sister was never giddy. He couldn’t wait to get her safely home, far from the man who clearly had designs on her. Yet Seth knew he couldn’t shield Sophie forever, nor discount the dreamy look on her face.

They were halfway back to the ranch when he finally said, “Is Devane sweet on you?”

Sophie turned and studied his face. “Sweet? What if he is?”

He shrugged and fixed his attention on the road ahead.

She poked him in the arm. “Seth? Wouldn’t it be all right if I liked Charlie and he returned the sentiment?”

“I guess, if you’re happy.” He didn’t want to interfere with her pleasure, but his stomach was in a knot.

As if sensing his discomfort, she squeezed his arm. “For the moment Charlie and I are just friends. I’m in no hurry for anything more.”

Her words did nothing to diminish the growing realization that his sister was an adult and their time together as a family under one roof was limited.

Sophie changed the subject. “I hope you weren’t bored waiting for me.”

“I saw Rose sitting on her front porch, so I passed a bit of time there.” For some odd reason, he was unwilling to relate much of anything about their conversation.

“Was Ezra home?”

“No.”

He had the distinct impression Sophie was smirking, but all she said was, “Rose is a wonderful person.”

“And a great cook.” His stomach growled with the memory of her chicken and dumplings, not to mention today’s chocolate ice cream.