The Gift of a Child. Laura Abbot

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СКАЧАТЬ 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.

      Sophie snuggled next to him and closed her eyes, a contented smile playing over her lips. Seth figured he didn’t want to know whether she was thinking about Devane.

      Lulled by the steady trot of the horse and the dimming light, neither said anything further, which suited Seth. He appreciated silence. He’d noticed that this afternoon with Rose. She wasn’t one of those magpie women like the Widow Spencer. By contrast, when Rose did open her mouth, she made good sense. A man didn’t feel like a boorish oaf around her. It dawned on him that’d he’d felt more comfortable with her than he usually did with women. He liked the way her freckles highlighted her blue eyes and the fact she wasn’t one of those women all caught up in looking fancy. No, Rose was different. Restful, that’s what she was. Restful.

      * * *

      After eating a light supper, Rose picked up her crocheting and settled in her usual chair by the stove. Ulysses cuddled by her side. She needed to feel a living thing, to know there was a buffer for her sudden loneliness. She had been surprised when Seth had stopped by. He was a man of few words, unlike a certain sergeant she could name whose glib tongue and false heart had taught her a harsh lesson. Seth’s concern for his sister was laudable, but she worried about his dependence on her. Seth was older than Rose and, like her, probably set in his ways. No housekeeper would ever fill the gap if Sophie left to be married.

      As the room darkened, she set aside her crocheting but didn’t stir to light the lamp. The house was still, save for the ticking of the clock and Ulysses’s contented purr. It had been a long day, but Rose fought sleep, still caught up in the remembrance of her time with Seth and the catch in her breath when he had laid his hand upon hers.

      Finally, though, she roused, feeling the need for a bracing cup of tea. When she filled the kettle, she noticed the wood fire in the stove was reduced to embers. Pulling a shawl around her shoulders and carrying a lantern, she went out the back door toward the small barn behind the house. Night had fallen, and quiet, broken only by the occasional barking dog, had descended on the neighborhood.

      Inside the barn, she placed the lantern on a hook near the door and made several trips carrying kindling into the kitchen. Then she returned for the lantern. Picking it up and preparing to leave, she was overcome by the eerie sense she was not alone. All the talk of drifters had made everyone skittish. It occurred to her that she was virtually defenseless in the darkened barn. She should scurry inside the house and bolt the doors, but before she could act, she heard a sound coming from the haystack at the back of one of the horse stalls. A high-pitched hiccupping, followed by a soft sigh. She steeled herself, knowing she had to investigate. Holding the lantern high, she tiptoed toward the sound. What she saw on the bed of hay nearly caused her to drop the lantern.

      It couldn’t be. Not here. Not in her barn.

      She knelt beside the figure of a little boy not much older than Mattie. He was fast asleep, his thumb in his mouth, his long, dark eyelashes closed, his chest rising and falling with his breathing. But what was on that chest was the most surprising of all. Rose raised the lantern to better read the note pinned to his tattered little shirt:

      PLEEZ. TAKE KIR OF ALF. I KIN’T DO IT NO MORE.

      Rose’s hands shook. She couldn’t grasp the miracle of it. Tears moistened her cheeks, yet she was oblivious to them. She kept staring at the child. Finally, she stood and set the lantern back on the hook.

      Returning to the boy, she gently gathered him up in her arms and carried him into the house, all the time marveling at the loving God who had answered Rose Kellogg’s prayers.

      And then her heart skipped a beat as she suddenly strangled on a new thought. Dear God, her gain might surely be some family’s worst nightmare. When she gazed once more into Alf’s peaceful face, she made a vow. Despite what tomorrow might bring, for tonight she would love him.

       Chapter Two

      Rose brushed straw and grass from Alf’s grubby clothes and laid a soothing hand on his forehead, brushing away his crow-black hair. She knew soon enough her father would return and questions would abound. For now, though, she treasured this time with “her boy,” as she already thought of him. “Suffer little children to come unto me,” Jesus had said. Rose lifted her eyes heavenward. “Thank You,” she murmured, her eyes filling with tears of joy.

      Every now and then, Alf shifted in her arms and then, with a sigh, settled back to sleep. Rose knew she needed to think beyond the present moment. Reason cried out that she shouldn’t become too enamored of the boy. Someone who loved him must be wild with worry. Yet, for this wonderful moment, he was in her care. What could she feed him? How would she clothe him? How would he react to the bath he so desperately needed? Her thoughts raced with plans. He could sleep in the trundle bed in her room and surely friends and neighbors would help supply his immediate needs. But that meant telling them about the foundling. Sharing him. All the more reason to cherish this quiet time together before the world intruded.

      She must’ve dozed because the next thing she knew, a hand had settled on her shoulder. “Rose, my dear.” Looking up, she saw her father gazing down at her with love and concern. “What have we here?”

      “Oh, Papa. It’s Alf.” She moved her arm so he could read the message.

      “How did this come about?” Ezra knelt and gently ran his hands over the boy’s body while Rose explained about finding the child in the barn.

      “I’ve been thinking that whoever left him knew from the sign out front that you’re a doctor. Or somehow knew we would care for him.”

      Her father rose to his feet. “And so we will until we locate his people. Sheriff Jensen must be notified.”

      Rose’s СКАЧАТЬ