Season of Love (Cutter's Creek Book 11) Page 3

  “Hmmm … no, it don’t.”

  They worked for another hour, straining to free the panicked animal. Heath heaved against the wire, pulling hard to draw it away from the beast, but the bulk of the wire was pinned beneath it. By now they were both flushed and breathing hard, with cuts and welts on their arms where the wire had caught them by surprise, and the steer seemed to be tangled even worse than before.

  “I don’t think he’s got much longer,” said Heath with a frown.

  “Seems like he’s lost a lot of blood,” agreed Joe.

  Heath threw his hat down hard on the ground and sighed. “Head back to the horses, Joe, and get the butchering knives from my saddle bag. I’ll finish the job while you mend the fence.”

  ***

  Willow Carlson poured steaming tea into the china cup in front of Margaret and handed it to her, along with a piece of cake on a plate. “Now, Meg, have you decided what you’re going to do for the Christmas parade yet?”

  “The Christmas parade?” asked Margaret as she blew the steam from the cup.

  “Yes. Every year all the businesses around town get together to parade down the street. It’s small, but a lot of fun.”

  “Oh yes, I remember it from last year. But, I don’t have a business.” Margaret tipped her head to one side, picturing the happy spectacle in her mind’s eye.

  “The school usually puts together a float and the children dress up. Nothing fancy, mind, but I thought you’d probably like to continue the tradition.”

  “My word, I had no idea. I don’t believe we did anything last year.”

  “Well, you were so new – I don’t think anyone wanted to trouble you.” Willow smiled and took a sip of tea.

  “Really? That was thoughtful, but …” Margaret frowned. No one had thought to tell her about this, and she was not partial to surprises. “It’s not too late to do something?”

  “Of course not. It’s just about celebrating as a community. I’m sure you can come up with a festive theme, and you’re welcome to borrow our horse and wagon if you’d like.”

  “Thank you, Willow, I do appreciate that. Is there anything else I should know about the Christmas festival?”

  “Hmmm … do you know about the social? The tree decorating … no, you’d need a shop window to display it in. The dessert contest?”

  “ Oh, that sounds promising.” Margaret smiled. “I love to bake.”

  “Wonderful! Well, it’s held at the community grange hall the Saturday night before Christmas. Just be careful of Mrs. Waverley – her shortbread has won the top prize twice, and she gets a bit prickly when it doesn’t. It can get a little competitive. You know, there are rumors of some chicanery when the first one was held six years ago.”

  Margaret’s eyes widened and her eyebrows shot skyward. “What happened?”

  “It seemed someone was so determined to win, they may have switched the name card on their pie with one on someone else’s – a better baker’s, of course. We didn’t even hear about it until the culprit had already moved to Oregon, so it’s all a bit vague. But still, never a dull moment at the Cutter’s Creek Christmas festival. Plus, we get to eat the entries after the winners are decided, so it’s quite the feast.”

  “Well, it does sound like fun … if a bit challenging. I’ll have to look through the old recipes cards Mother left me and see what I can come up with. But there was one other thing I wanted to discuss with you …”

  A noise from one of the bedrooms caught Willow’s attention. “I’ll just fetch the baby and be right back.” She stood and hurried from the room, soon returning with little Jack Jr. He gurgled happily, and she smiled at him as she rocked him in her arms. She sat across from Margaret and began to nurse him. “I’m so sorry – you were saying?”

  “Do you remember the wagonful of orphans that came to town in early fall?” she asked before taking a bite of cake.

  “Oh yes, I do. They arrived with the Beckworths.” Willow’s eyes clouded over, and she pushed a strand of hair behind one ear. “I could hardly forget the sight of the poor little things, just skin and bone. They looked wild too, like they hadn’t seen civilization in so long they almost didn’t recognize it. They were afraid of their own shadows, their clothes were in tatters … it was a sad sight to see. Hilton and Anne Beckworth weren’t in much better shape themselves. A right sorry bunch, the lot of them.”

  Margaret’s heart felt heavy, thinking of all the children must have been through. “What had happened, do you know?”

  “I’m not entirely certain. No one is, since the children didn’t seem to want to talk much about it. But my understanding is that their mother died after some kind of injury, and their father was heartsick over it. Soon after that, they all caught a fever, and he didn’t make it through.”

  “Heavens above!” exclaimed Margaret, one hand hovering over her heart. “That is the saddest tale I’ve heard outside of the war!”

  “It truly is. The eldest, Mary Beth, took charge, and they’d kept driving west until they caught up to the Beckworths. Between them, they barely made it to Cutter’s Creek. Who knows what else happened or what they saw. Whatever it was, they all seem a bit touched still, if you know what I mean.”

  Margaret took another bite of cake and pondered what it must have been like for them to lose their parents so young in the middle of the wilderness. She’d lost hers, but she’d had no siblings to care for, and had been taken in by an elderly aunt. She didn’t have to fight for her very survival in a covered wagon, they way they must have. “And now where do they live?”

  “When they arrived, we had a town meeting to discuss the situation. No one could take in six youngsters at once, so six families each took one. It was a good theory, but I understand the children haven’t taken to it as well as we’d hoped.”

  “So it would seem,” said Margaret. “I found three of them hiding in the schoolhouse yesterday. They weren’t making a mess, but I’m worried about them. If they’re feeling as though they have to escape their new homes to spend time together in a cold, empty schoolhouse, something must be wrong.”

  Willow shook her head and clucked her tongue. “Well, that is a concern. I don’t know what can be done about it, though. They seem determined to be together, even if it upsets their guardians.”

  “Perhaps we should revisit the idea of one family taking in all six of them, especially if their guardians are preventing them from seeing each other. They must miss each other terribly if they’re running off to be together.”

  “But who could take in so many?” asked Willow, patting Jack Jr.’s back as he fed.

  “I don’t know. But there must be someone who could.”

  I could take them in.

  Even as the thought entered her head, she knew it couldn’t work. She was a single teacher – she couldn’t care for half a dozen children. True, she had plenty of space at the farmhouse, but she couldn’t afford to feed them, let alone clothe them and buy the things they’d need in life. Not to mention that she wasn’t married – single women couldn’t take in children on their own, could they? How would that work? And it would certainly ruin any chance of ever finding a husband, since no one would be likely to marry a woman with six adopted orphans.

  No, adopting them was not an option for her. It wouldn’t be best for her or them. She’d just have to find someone else – a nice married couple, maybe one who hadn’t been able to start a family of their own. Surely there must be someone like that around town.

  “Well, I don’t know of anybody who could, but you’re right. I’ll ask Jack if we can talk about it at the town meeting tonight. We’ll be discussing the festival, so maybe we can add this to the agenda. What do you think?”

  “I think that’s a good idea. Even if we don’t find a family, it would be a good opportunity to find out what the children are so unhappy about. Maybe their guardians know, and if they come to the meeting we can ask them how the town can better support them.”

  “I’ll sp
eak to Jack about it, then. But for now, let’s pray on it, shall we?”

  “Yes, please.” They bowed their heads and closed their eyes as Jack Jr. pumped his fists and legs against his mother’s chest.

  “Heavenly Father, please give us wisdom and compassion for this situation,” Willow began. “These children are in pain, Lord, and need our help. Show us how best we can aid them, and what we can do. Please provide what they need. In Your holy name, amen.” She opened her eyes and smiled at Margaret.

  “Thank you, Willow,” said Margaret, dabbing with a handkerchief at tears that had formed in the corners of her eyes.

  “You’re welcome, my dear. They’re in God’s hands. He’ll take care of them.”

  Chapter Three

  Heath parked the sleigh outside the little red chapel and hurried inside, stamping the snow from his boots before he pushed through the doors and into the sanctuary. The chapel echoed with conversation, and he looked around for a seat in the packed room, finally going to the front to sit beside Harry Brown.

  Harry smiled and moved over to give him some space. “Evenin’ there, Heath. How’re you doin’?”

  “Great – thanks, Harry,” he said with a grin. “And you? How’s the little one?”

  Harry rubbed his eyes and sighed. “She’s tiny and beautiful … and an insomniac.” He grimaced, then laughed.

  Rev. Latsch clapped his hands in the pulpit and smiled at the crowd. “Good evening, all!”

  People shushed each other. All heads turned to face the front and all ears strained to listen to what the reverend had to say.

  “Thank you all for coming tonight. It’s great to see so many smiling faces.” There were a few nods and greetings from the group, and he continued. “We’re here tonight to discuss the Christmas festival. And, Mrs. Waverley, there’ll be no untoward tactics in the dessert competition this year.” His eyes twinkled.

  Agatha Waverley, in the front row, gasped and covered her mouth with one hand. “I never …”

  “I’m just teasing you, Mrs. Waverley – I know you won fair and square both times. Anyway, before we get going on the festival, there’s another matter of town business that’s been brought to my attention. Most of you remember the Singer orphans, who came to town in September. They drove here in a wagon after their parents died on the trail.”

  More nods and murmurings among the group. Heath nodded too. He vividly remembered the children’s arrival – and almost running one of them over a few days ago in front of the schoolhouse.

  “I’ve been hearing reports of them running away from their respective homes to be together. They’ve been hiding at various places around town, like the schoolhouse. Mary and I have spoken with some of you about this, including the folks who each took in one of the children, and we’re in agreement that the town should do something about this situation. The children are unhappy. Their parents are gone, and all they have in this world are each other. They long to be together, but there isn’t a family in Cutter’s Creek who can afford to take in all six. Does anyone have a suggestion of what we could do to help these poor kids?”

  Heath scanned the rows of townsfolk. A few talked quietly together, their hands covering their mouths. Others shuffled uncomfortably in their pews, avoiding the preacher’s eyes. No one spoke up.

  Suddenly, from the back, came a thin, strong voice. “Actually, I … well, I’ll take them all. If, that is, their current guardians are agreeable to the idea.”

  Heath turned and strained his neck to see who it was.

  To his – and everyone’s – amazement, Margaret Hutchins walked up the center aisle, her hands held together in front of her black wool coat, her lace collar pressed tightly around her neck, a scarf draped over her shoulders. His eyes widened in surprise. Had she just offered to take in all six children?! But she was single – how could she manage it?

  Murmurs filled the chapel, and the reverend had to shout to be heard. “Quiet, please! Quiet! Meg, did you say that you’ll take the whole brood? All six?”

  She nodded, looking tense but confident. “Yes, I did.”

  The chapel erupted into shouts as people leaped to their feet, gesturing wildly and expressing their various opinions on the matter all at once.

  Heath stood to his feet. “Quiet down!” he bellowed across the sanctuary. Frowning, he faced the group with his hands on his hips as they fell silent. “She says she’ll take them, and unless someone has a better idea, you’d all best be quiet. Miss Hutchins, I offer my own services to help, such as they are. I know you’ll need assistance from all of us to feed and clothe six children, and I, for one, will be happy to assist.”

  “But how can a single woman care for six children?” cried Amos Waverley from the front pew, his thick eyebrows almost obscuring his narrowed eyes.

  “I don’t see why she can’t,” Camilla Brentwood chimed in with a quick smile at Margaret. “Women do it all the time when they’ve lost their husbands.”

  “That’s true,” added Willow Carlson.

  “It ain’t right,” Agatha Waverley objected. “An unmarried woman has no business taking on children by herself. Children need a father. How will she provide for them? Take care of them? And not to mention the fact that she has a job – who would care for them while she’s working?”

  The shouting resumed, with everyone trying to make themselves heard above the crowd. For a few minutes nothing was achieved. Finally the room quieted down, and everyone waited to hear what Margaret would say.

  She drew a deep breath and wiped her hands on her skirts. “You’re right. I will need help. But since no one else will take them in, and since the children are clearly unhappy apart from each other, I don’t see another option. I would gladly let some other family have them if one is willing. But since no one has spoken up, I feel I must. As a teacher, I am trained to work with children. And I don’t see why my lack of a husband should make any difference in the matter.” She took her seat with a grim face.

  “Does anyone have another option they’d like to suggest?” asked Rev. Latsch, his hand raised high in the air. He waited. “No? Okay then, if the children’s caregivers will come forward after the meeting, we’ll discuss it with each of you, and if you have no objections to Miss Hutchins’ plans, she’ll take the orphans home with her.”

  Heath sat in the pew with a thump, his heart pounding in his chest. Margaret Hutchins would be mother to six orphaned children. Just when he’d thought he might have found someone to court, she went and did something like that. He rubbed his chin and leaned forward over his knees as the discussion about the festival began. She was certainly an interesting woman, no doubt about that.

  ***

  Margaret sat in the pew, back straight and hands folded in her lap. Her heart thumped wildly in her chest, and she stared wide-eyed at the shoulders of the man in front of her. What had she just done?! She’d offered to take in six children! How could she have thought that was a good idea?

  But when the Rev. Latsch asked the townspeople what they should do with the children and no one spoke up, she’d been infuriated by the silence. Would no one have pity on the poor things? Would no one offer them shelter together? Surely someone could take them. But no one had. She’d closed her eyes tight against the silence, all the while thinking that she could take them. If someone should, why not her?

  She’d prayed, asking God what she should do. Her heart burned with sorrow for the children who’d lost their parents and almost starved to death on the open prairie. They’d been through so much, and she just wanted to do something to help them. But this? Perhaps she’d lost her mind. She couldn’t even afford to feed them, let alone pay for everything else they’d need. Thank heavens Heath had offered to help, and had appealed to the town to do so as well. She hoped they followed through, or she didn’t know what she’d do.

  She slowed her breathing and felt her heart rate return to normal. She shut her eyes, then opened them again, and the cross at the front of the sanctuary caugh
t her eye. She focused on it and felt peace sweep into her soul. God had prompted her to take the children in; He would provide a way for her to care for them. He’d never let her down before, and she had to trust that He wouldn’t now.

  Later, as she waited outside the chapel in the cold night, Margaret stamped her feet in the snow and rubbed her hands together. Stars twinkled above her like a blanket of tiny sparks in the cloudless sky. She wrapped her arms around herself and shivered.

  The sound of sleigh bells rang softly nearby, and she turned to see Heath’s sleigh coming around from behind the church, where it had been parked during the meeting with all the other sleighs and wagons.

  He smiled at her, and pulled the sleigh to a halt in front of the chapel. “Hello there, Miss Hutchins. How are you on this fine evening?” He climbed down from the driver’s seat and set the brake.

  “I’m fine, thank you, Mr. Moore. I wanted to thank you for making that appeal earlier for assistance with the children. If the guardians agree to my plan, I shall need that help.”

  “You’re welcome. But are you sure you know what you’re doing?

  Margaret threw her head back and laughed, barely preventing a sob. “No, I’m most definitely not sure. But I couldn’t bear for the poor dears to stay separated. They obviously want to be together, and aren’t happy where they are. They’ve lost so much already – I just want to give them the opportunity to heal, and to heal each other. Is that too much to ask?”

  “Not at all. It’s downright noble of you.”

  “Anyway, they haven’t decided yet, so nothing is certain.” Margaret shivered again and glanced at the closed chapel doors. The reverend and the six couples who were currently the children’s guardians were all inside, deciding the siblings’ fate. She wondered what was taking them so long.

  Heath stepped closer and blew on his gloved hands. “You’ll freeze out here if they take much longer. Perhaps we should get you inside.” His breath was white in the night air.