Linda Ford - Montana Bride By Christmas

Hugh watched her every move. Prepared, she supposed, to intervene.

Grandfather had wakened at the ruckus and observed the whole time.

Annie knew he would not hesitate to give his opinion and wondered what it would be. She stood by the table waiting for Hugh to take the lead. He waited, perhaps for the same reason.

“Shall we eat?” she said.

“By all means. Where would you like me to sit?”

She stood behind the chair closest to the stove and indicated the one across the table for Hugh. Grandfather sat at the spot closest to his armchair and across from where Evan sat on the floor.

Hugh stared at his plate, the picture of despair.

Annie wished she could offer some encouragement to him but she wasn’t sure a touch would be welcome and there seemed no adequate words.

“I’ll ask the blessing,” he said and Annie bowed her head, silently praying her own words. Gratitude for the food, and for the chance to earn her own home, but more than that, a request for God’s healing love to fill their hearts.

Grandfather waited until the food had been passed around and everyone had a good start on eating before he voiced his opinion. “We have our job cut out for us with that one.” He tipped his head toward Evan who had pulled the bowl close and turned his back to them.

There was no clang of the metal spoon against the metal dish and Annie knew the boy ate with his fingers. At the moment it seemed the least of their worries. But Grandfather’s words encouraged her. He had made it clear he meant to ally himself with her and Hugh in winning this boy’s trust and cooperation.

Hugh put his fork down as if he’d lost interest in the meal. “Any suggestions?”

Grandfather also lowered his fork to the table and considered his words. “I once knew an old Indian so weathered and wrinkled you could get lost in the crevasses of his face. He and I worked for the same outfit back before I got married.” He paused and grew somber as he always did when he thought about his long-dead wife. “I knew him several weeks before I heard him utter a word. When I asked him about it he said he never had anything to say until then.” Grandfather’s gaze went to Evan. “I expect it’s the same with him. Same with leaving his corner. He’ll do it when life beyond that spot is more interesting, more enticing than the walls he’s pressing into.”

Hugh turned his gaze toward his son.

Annie watched him, her heart slowly melting as sorrow intermingled with hope in his face.

She was needed here and she could think of no better reason for seeking an arrangement with Hugh than to offer one little boy a safe home.

Hugh’s concern for Evan would guarantee Annie a safe home as well.

Unless a more suitable woman appeared on his doorstep in the next four weeks. She had to assume he had sent advertisement for a wife beyond the possibilities of Bella Creek.

Outside the wind battered the walls of the parsonage. A cold draft swept by her feet and she knew the temperature had dropped. If it snowed, travel would be difficult. Perhaps too difficult for any interested woman to be willing to venture to Bella Creek in answer to a request for a mail-order bride.

Being a ranch-raised young woman she couldn’t bring herself to pray for a storm to break all records but perhaps God would see fit to send enough snow to keep visitors away.

Surely that wasn’t too selfish a request.

* * *

Hugh tried to relax. Grandfather Marshall’s words of support and encouragement meant a great deal to him. As did Annie’s insight into why Evan had struck out. He noticed she rubbed her leg when she rose to make the tea.

“Did he kick you?” he asked, softly, not wanting to upset Evan.

“It’s nothing.” She glanced at Evan. “He didn’t do it out of spite.”

Again, she had an understanding of the child that rather surprised him. The few times he’d seen her before led him to believe she cared only about having fun though if he’d stopped to think he might see that she carried a huge load of responsibility and some lighthearted activity on occasion might be in order.

The thought only darkened his mind. There would be little enough time or opportunity for fun while caring for Evan. Hugh had consulted Dr. Baker who would offer no assurances that Evan would ever be okay.

“Some children,” the doctor said, “are permanently damaged by being treated so poorly. Others, however, respond to patience and love. Just look at little Ellie.” He referred to the baby his daughter and Conner Marshall had adopted. The difference being that she was so young compared to Evan.

As Hugh drank his tea, he tried not to dread the upcoming bedtime. Three nights Evan had been with him and three nights had been an experience he wouldn’t wish on anyone. It would surely test Annie’s commitment. But if she left, what was he to do?

He again prayed for a suitable woman. Again no one came to the door except for the wind and he shifted his attention to Evan. He’d soon learned that to look directly at him caused the boy to shrink into the corner and turn his back to Hugh so he pretended to look out the window.

“Sounds like the wind is getting worse. We might get a storm.” He watched Evan out of the corner of his eye. The boy looked at the window, then, from under lowered eyelids, watched Hugh. What was he thinking? What did he see when he looked at the adults? Was he able to assess their reliability?

Annie quietly cleaned the table and did the dishes while the dread in Hugh’s thoughts continued to grow.

She finished and stood watching Evan. He wished he could read her mind. She brought her gaze to him, her eyes holding the darkness of the night. “What do you do about getting him to bed?”

He pushed to his feet. “Can we talk in my office?” He turned to the older man. “Would you mind staying with him?”

Grandfather waved them away. “Sort things out. You’ll need to be in agreement if you’re to reach him.”

Hugh followed Annie to his office, careful to leave the door open so her grandfather could see them. He could tell by the set of her shoulders and the tip of her head that she expected he was going to take her to task about something. Nothing was further from the truth.

“About bedtime,” he began and was relieved to notice her shoulders relaxed. “It’s been difficult so I thought it best to warn you.”

“Tell me about it.” She sat in the chair he’d indicted earlier and he sank to his own across the desk.

“As you can see, he doesn’t like to be touched and doesn’t like anyone to get too close. I think the woman who kept him let him sleep on a mat in the corner. He relieved himself in the slop bucket.” His throat tightened with the memory of how he’d found the boy and the words poured out as he described the situation.

“I’ve searched for him for months. At times I thought I would fail to find him. It wasn’t until I offered a reward of twenty dollars that the woman came forward. Twenty dollars! That’s all my son was worth. She told me when Bernice was dying—”

“Bernice?”

“She was my wife.”

“I see.”

She couldn’t begin to see what it had been like. Bernice’s dishonesty, her sneaking about with other men and then her disappearance.

“I’m sorry. Please continue.”

He sucked in air. “Bernice told her to hang onto Evan until I came and I’d pay for him. The woman should have been charged with abuse or something. She barely kept him alive and now I don’t know if he’ll ever be right.” He couldn’t go on.

She had her head down, as if studying her hands folded in her lap.

What was she thinking? Had she been moved at all by Evan’s plight?

He was about to go on, describing bedtime when she lifted her head and he saw a sheen of tears.