Lyn Cote - Suddenly A Frontier Father

“Mason, you will just have to stay here,” Asa said, “till you get back to normal.”

Variations of this had been mentioned all throughout the evening meal. Mason felt exhausted by the day’s events and he couldn’t take much more. He’d replied politely but finally reached the end of his tether. He stated the truth. “I just want to go home. I’ve been away from home for months and I want to be in my own bed under my own roof.” Without turning his head, he watched Emma out of the corner of his eye as he had throughout the meal. She was gazing at him, her chin downward. What was she thinking? Was it of him?

“But you’ll need help,” Judith said.

“I can help,” Colton spoke up.

Asa, Judith, Emma and Mason all turned to look at the boy.

“I can help.” Colton stood up. “I can fetch and carry. Mr. Brant, you helped me and Lily when we needed help. So I can help Mr. Chandler.”

Asa gripped the boy’s shoulder and smiled at him with approval.

“That makes good sense,” Emma agreed. “Mr. Chandler walked here. He has a crutch. He just needs a little help. I completely understand why he wants to be in his own place, don’t we all?”

“Thank you,” Mason said with emphasis. “Asa, please let Colton go with me and the girls. Thanks to Miss Jones and the children, everything is ready for us to settle down for the night. And that’s all I want.” He was grateful to Emma for backing him up and to the boy for offering. But he was afraid to look at her and betray more than this. Why did she have to be both lovely and kind? She could do much better than him for a husband.

Asa and Judith exchanged glances. “Very well,” Asa agreed. “Colton, gather your things and your bedroll from up in the loft. Thank you for offering to help our neighbor.”

Colton didn’t reply but obeyed.

Pressing his hands on the table, Mason pushed himself up. Then he manipulated his crutch and secured it under his right arm. He thought he had just enough energy to get home.

Emma stood also and walked to the door. “I’ll bid you all good night. And Judith, thank you for the lovely supper.”

Mason watched the woman he had hoped to marry walk away into the gathering twilight. He bound up his mind against thinking of her. She had been helpful. She has been kind. But she had made it clear with her every glance and every word that she wanted to be only his neighbor and nothing more.

* * *

Emma arrived home and soon, in her nightwear, sat in her rocker, sipping a cup of chamomile tea and honey. She still felt stirred up and hoped the tea would soothe her so she could sleep. The day played through her mind. Her shock at meeting Mason Chandler on Main Street, seeing his two little girls—the silent and troubled Charlotte, the bright and sweet Birdie—and hearing the unguarded words he’d said when he woke.

She took another sip of the warm, sweet tea. If only she were young and unmarked by war, she might have reacted differently. But for four bloody years, she had prayed and hoped and kept up her spirits. Trusting that Jonathan, good-natured and honorable, would return whole and they would spend their lives together. Instead he’d been buried in Virginia. She stopped her thoughts there.

She did not think of Jonathan often anymore. Mason Chandler returning and the words he’d said to her had brought it all back, all the pain, all the waiting. She would keep her distance from him. But then she remembered Mrs. Ashford’s remark about judgment and little Lily’s unusual reticence. Both of Mason’s girls would cause notice in town. They were orphans, Birdie’s mother had no doubt been a slave and Charlotte was deaf. Charlotte and Birdie—how could she help them?

* * *

Monday afternoon, as the students were finishing the last lesson of the day, Emma tried not to show the roiling pot of emotion in the pit of her stomach. Mason and his girls hadn’t attended church yesterday and she could understand that. He’d just sprained his ankle and he didn’t have his wagon yet. But she’d hoped that Colton would walk the girls to school today so she could help them get acquainted.

The rumors about Mason’s “peculiar” girls had already begun in town. Emma wanted to set the right tone and ease the girls into acceptance. She gazed over the heads of her students and let it rest on Colton’s dark head bent over his slate. She didn’t want the other children to hear, but she needed to talk to Colton.

“Children, finish the questions and then put away everything. Our day together is ending.”

The children obeyed with some murmuring. As usual, the children lined up in the center aisle and waited for her to position herself at the door. As usual, she spoke to each child, encouraging them and reminding them of what they should be practicing at home that evening. It always included studying their spelling list. The town was insistent that their spellers shine in the spring spelling bee. Her students prepared all year.

When Colton stopped in front, she asked him if he would stay to help with something. He nodded and then moved out of line. “Lily,” he called, “I got to help Miss Jones. Wait on the swing.”

Soon the school was empty except for her and Colton. “What do you want me to do?” Colton looked up at her.

She didn’t try to hide her true concerns. “Why didn’t Birdie and Charlotte come to school today?”

Colton frowned. “The little black girl wanted to come real bad. But Mr. Chandler said no, not yet.”

Emma was afraid of that.

“What do you want me to do here?” Colton asked, glancing out the open window, obviously wanting to leave.

“You’re still helping Mr. Chandler?”

“Yes, they’ll come to our place for supper. Mrs. Brant insisted. And then I’ll walk home with them and stay there for the night.”

“How is Mr. Chandler’s ankle?” She refused to let his dazed, whispered words repeat once more in her mind. Or she tried to.

“He doesn’t say anything about it. But I see he still needs a crutch.” Colton shifted on his feet, reminding her that he wanted to be off and out of school.

“Thank you, Colton.”

The boy paused and turned back at the doorway. “When Lily and me started school here, some kids acted strange around us. I think it’s ’cause...’cause our parents died. People don’t like it when you’re different.”

The boy’s wisdom surprised and impressed her. “I’m afraid that is correct.”

“I like Birdie. She’s real sweet and always helps.”

“That’s very true. Thank you, Colton.”

The boy left and she walked around the schoolroom, making certain everything was in place. She could understand why Mason wanted to protect his two little girls, but keeping them at home hidden did them no good. They were going to spend their lives here—and they both deserved as good a life as anyone else here in Pepin. If it weren’t for the girls and their need for special care, she could ignore this man. But she could see the girls might need her.

Mason Chandler, you are wrong if you keep them home. She knew how stubborn men could be. But it might just be that he needed time. She would give him time, but just so much.

* * *

A few days later, in the evening at the Brants’, the fragrance of the rabbit stew set before Mason literally caused him to salivate. He bowed his head politely while Asa offered the prayer over the meal. Hearing another man pray heightened the feeling of stone encasing his own heart. Maybe God hadn’t deserted him but it sure felt like it. Then he scolded himself. Years ago he’d lost his mother, and months ago his father, but he’d gained a sister and Birdie. He resisted a thought about also losing Emma.

“I caught the rabbits,” Colton spoke up. “I used my snares.”