Handpicked Family. Shannon Farrington

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      Miss Martin noticed them at once. Peter saw the look of horror wash over her face. However, it quickly passed. Apparently she was determined to soldier on, but still in her naive way.

      “Are you in need of further seating for your congregation?” she asked the reverend. “Perhaps we can find someone to craft more pews.”

      Peter couldn’t help but roll his eyes at that. Crafting pews would not be high on anyone’s list around here, not when homes needed to be rebuilt first.

      “Thank you, miss,” Reverend Webb said with all the gentleness of a seasoned saint, “but we have all we need, at least for those who attend now. Many of our church members are no more.”

      “No more?”

      “Deceased, miss. The fortunate ones have relocated, reunited with family elsewhere.”

      “Oh,” she said slowly. “I see.”

      Do you? Peter wondered. Do you now see the real world? For I don’t have time to enlighten you.

      There were articles to write on the local provisional authorities and missing supplies to locate. He also wanted to assist in the reunion of displaced family members, but there was one particular family member he was most desperate to find—his brother Daniel’s bride.

       Caroline. The bride Daniel had no business taking.

      Peter drew in a breath. How did one even begin to locate such a woman when no one around here, not even the reverend, seemed to know who she was?

      * * *

      Trudy couldn’t help but feel sorry for this poor country preacher. He obviously cared for his community, and the fact that he could no longer account for much of it weighed heavily upon his heart. She laid a hand on the parson’s arm, and his dark mustache lifted with a smile.

      “We will do all we can to help those people who remain,” she said.

      “Thank you, miss,” he said. “I am most grateful to you and the others. Your coming is such an encouragement.”

      At least it is to someone, she couldn’t help but think, for despite what she had hoped had been a closing conversation, Mr. Carpenter still looked irritated with her. Or is it simply the circumstances in which we find ourselves? If that were the case, then she could understand a little of what he was feeling.

      Trudy had promised Reverend Webb they would do all they could to serve this community but knew their ability to do so had been diminished severely. The crates that had disappeared en route were the most valuable they carried. The wheat, dried meat and medicines were lost. So was the seed they had brought for planting fall vegetables. Mr. Carpenter had ruefully noted that not only were these items the most valuable in aid but they would also fetch the greatest price on the black market.

      “Whoever took them knew exactly what would bring the most profit,” he’d said.

      Those and his previous words taunted her. “Only a foolish man would bring a child into this world.”

      Whatever his opinion, it doesn’t negate the fact that there are children in this world, she thought, children who require assistance. In fact, Reverend Webb had already mentioned needy youngsters in his congregation, specifically a six-year-old boy named Charlie, and a baby named Kate. Both were now fatherless because of the war, and their mother was desperate for relief. Will we be able to provide such?

      “We can wire for more supplies,” Emily said, as if reading Trudy’s thoughts.

      “Yes,” she agreed, for Trudy knew the churches and aid societies back in Baltimore would again be generous. My dearest friends, Julia, Rebekah and Sally will spend long hours gathering and packing what they can. For four years now they, along with Trudy and Elizabeth, had knitted socks and sewed shirts and other items for those in need. She was confident they would again rise to the occasion.

      “We will wire back to Baltimore,” Dr. Mackay said. “And we will do so straightaway. Reverend Webb says the telegraph office in Larkinsville is still in order.”

      “It is indeed,” Mr. Carpenter said. “The question is, though, will the shipments arrive here intact and in time to help this community? Some of these people will not see August if they do not get regular, proper nourishment soon. If a second shipment goes missing...” He paused as if to let them consider that for a moment. “It won’t do us any good to order more supplies while someone out there is stealing them for their own profit.”

      “We don’t know for certain that’s what happened,” Reverend Webb said.

      “Shipments loaded on a train don’t just vanish between one rail station and another,” Mr. Carpenter insisted.

      Trudy’s heart squeezed. She knew her employer had a tendency to lean toward cynicism, but she had never seen him quite like this before. His frustration over the lost supplies was now bordering on despair.

      “Well, that’s where you come in,” Dr. Mackay said to him. “I trust you will discover this person or these persons responsible for the missing supplies.” He then gestured to Trudy. “And now you even have your experienced newspaper assistant to help you.”

      She could feel the color rising to her cheeks. Although she had promised to help Mr. Carpenter in whatever way she could, she remembered what he had said earlier, “I can’t have you going off investigating, gathering information on your own.” Based on the irritated look he was still giving her, he obviously didn’t want to work alongside her. His words confirmed that.

      “From what I have seen of the people in this community, I believe Miss Martin’s efforts will be better served in medical endeavors rather than journalism,” he said. “She was, after all, a nurse.”

      “Oh?” Reverend Webb said as Mr. Carpenter left the circle of conversation. “Wonderful. Then I trust you and Mrs. Mackay will work well together.”

      “We always have,” Emily said.

      “Indeed,” Trudy replied.

      Emily then looked to her husband. “Your orders, love?”

      The barest hint of a smile tugged at Dr. Mackay’s lips. They are so much in love, Trudy couldn’t help but think. She couldn’t help but wonder if someday a man would look at her that way. It certainly won’t be Mr. Carpenter.

      A self-pitying lump threatened to form in Trudy’s throat, but she swallowed it back.

      “When the people arrive we will need to first assess their conditions outside,” Dr. Mackay said. “If there is even the slightest indication of typhus or smallpox, we must immediately isolate them.”

      Trudy understood. She knew from experience that they could not bring patients bearing such illnesses into close contact with others. They must be quarantined. “Where shall we put them?” she asked.

      “My house,” Reverend Webb said.

      Trudy could tell Dr. Mackay did not like the preacher’s sacrifice any more than she, but if typhus or smallpox patients came to them, they had to be treated somewhere. СКАЧАТЬ