JAMES Page 2

  “Good morning, Reverend. I hear you have a new addition to your family. Who on earth would do a thing like that? Just leave a baby on a doorstep. I never.”

  “Good morning, Mr. Meier. I don’t know who left the poor child. Did you happen to see a wagon come through town before daylight?” From long experience, James knew the Meiers were up before dawn, preparing for the day.

  “This morning? Nobody came by here that I heard. Of course, I don’t hear as well as I used to, as Mrs. Meier reminds me frequently. Maybe Hank at the livery would know something.”

  James tried for a commiserating smile. “I’ll stop there next. Regardless, I will need some things for the boy, though I have no idea beyond diapers and clothes.”

  “Let me get the missus. Dorothea? Dotty! Come on up here and help the Reverend. She’ll know what’s what,” he assured James.

  A woman as narrow as the shop owner was wide bustled into the room. In spite of the building heat, she was dressed in a voluminous green bombazine day dress. “Reverend, good morning. What can we get you today?”

  Though James knew she’d been eavesdropping from the moment he walked in, he told her what he was after. “Although, truth be told, I haven’t any idea what those needs might be.”

  “Imagine leaving a baby like that. And you a bachelor. Maybe you should preach a sermon on responsibilities, Reverend.”

  “I’ll certainly consider that, ma’am.”

  “Now, then. Let me see. Diapers. Condensed milk and a glass bottle. Little tyke has to eat, doesn’t he?”

  James nodded and agreed to each item Mrs. Meier put on the counter. When she went for dungarees big enough for Tad could wear, he put a stop to it.

  “Perhaps we could limit the choices to what the boy will need in the next few weeks.”

  Mrs. Meier was crestfallen. “Weeks, you say? Very well.” With a sigh signaling the loss of a hoped-for sale, she began weeding out all but the immediate essentials.

  “Leave the stuffed rabbit, though. I’m sure he’ll like it.”

  Her smile was approving. “That’s so kind of you. Will you be needing formula? There are several fine brands to choose from and Mr. Meier can order it right away.”

  “For now, there’s a young woman at Doctor Finney’s who just lost her own child. Mrs. Travers. She is nursing the babe.”

  “Lost her child? Who is she? I am not aware of anyone in town who was expecting a blessed event and, as the chairwoman of the Ladies’ Society, I certainly should have been told.”

  “Her name is Esther Travers,” he corrected. “She’s a widow. I understand she arrived only yesterday, already in labor. The little girl didn’t survive the delivery.”

  “Oh!” Mrs. Meier was genuinely shocked and saddened. “That poor woman. Nothing is quite as p-painful as losing a child before you even get to hold…”

  “Now, now, Dotty. Steady on.” Mr. Meier took his wife’s hand and stroked her fingers. “God did not bless us with children of our own, Reverend. We lost four, you see. That was before we came here.”

  Suddenly, Dorothea Meier’s moods and attitude around children made sense. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea. Please accept my condolences.”

  “It was a long time ago.” Mrs. Meier dabbed at her tears with the handkerchief her husband offered. “And yet in some ways it feels like yesterday.”

  “Perhaps you could visit the young woman? She knows no one in town and you understand something of her loss.” He had a feeling it would be good for both women.

  Mrs. Meier pinned him with a quiet stare, her brown eyes troubled. “No one can really know, Reverend. You just can’t know.” Looking away, she struggled with emotions. “But I will go see Mrs. Travers. Sometimes company makes the time pass…”

  “Then perhaps you will deliver these items to Mrs. Travers? She’s staying with Doc and Ina Finney for the time being.”

  Mrs. Meier smiled, an amused expression James had never seen on her before. “Don’t you want to be seen with a stuffed rabbit, Reverend?”

  “You’d best get used to it,” George teased. “As a father, I imagine you’ll be carrying around more than that.”

  “Oh, I’m not going to keep the boy,” James corrected George.

  George flinched back. “I’m sorry. I assumed you would raise a foundling. It was what the Reverend in Illinois did.”

  “But he was married, Mr. Meier. Perhaps Reverend Hathaway doesn’t feel a bachelor should raise a child.”

  “I hadn’t considered it, is all.” Would he want to raise the boy? Be a father? “I truly hadn’t thought…”

  “No matter. I’m sure you’ll do the right thing.” Mrs. Meier patted his hand where it lay on the counter. “I’ll put all these things in a basket and deliver them to Mrs. Travers.”

  “Basket. I almost forgot that he needs a new one. A new basket, I mean. Like that one, up there.” James pointed at a hefty-sized market basket with a sturdy handle. “The one he was in has seen a lot of use, and I think he’ll outgrow it rather quickly.”

  George grabbed a long pole and lifted the woven basket from a high shelf for Dorothea. “That’s a nice one, Reverend. And everything should fit inside.”

  “He’ll outgrow this one, too. You should be thinking about a bed for him. A crib. We could order that, too, but Hank Givens makes such lovely furniture, when he has the time.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Meier, for your recommendations and your willingness to visit with Mrs. Travers. I think she could use a friend. And I’ll talk to Mr. Givens.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  James stepped out of the mercantile and nearly plowed over Tad. “Whoa, there. Careful where you’re going.”

  “I’ve been looking everywhere for you. I went to the church and the café and your house and you weren’t anywhere.”

  “But you didn’t look here.”

  “Did too. Just now. And here you are.” Tad grinned as he wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of a grimy hand.

  “Why are you looking for me?”

  “Doc says you should come back soon. There’s things that have to be done and, uh…” His rather pronounced nose scrunched up as he tried to remember the message. “Uh, difficult decisions must be made ‘cause its August. Whatever that means,” Tad finished with a shrug.

  Burial is what it meant. And convincing a grieving young mother it was time to say goodbye to the daughter she never got to hold. Some days, he didn’t care for the duties of his calling. Still, it was his responsibility. Squaring his shoulders, James turned back toward the doctor’s office.

  On the way he met the undertaker, Hank Givens, who also owned and ran the livery. Under his arm he carried a tiny coffin made of freshly sawn wood. The man was good with animals and he could build almost anything of wood that you needed. James had liked him the moment they’d met. “Hello, Hank.”

  “Mornin’, Reverend. Sad business.”

  James nodded. At times like this, he’d found words to be useless. “Hank, did anyone come to you for help with a wagon last night? Or did you see one you didn’t recognize come through town?”

  “Nope.” He fell silent and scratched his right ear, a habit when he was thinking. “No. I haven’t seen anyone that didn’t belong. Had a couple of homesteaders come through last week, but I haven’t seen them since. Figured they just passed on through.”

  “They probably did.” A week? That couldn’t be the wagon he’d heard last night. Since Hank carried the coffin, they went around to the back door, not wanting the mother to see them until she was ready. Doc opened the door before James could knock.

  “Come on in.” He glanced at Hank’s burden then looked at James. “She’s expecting you.”

  Leaving his hat on a hook behind the door, James made his way to the room Esther was using. He knocked and waited for her to invite him in.

  “Just a moment.”

  He heard some shuffling, then, “Come in.” He stepped across the threshold and stopped like he’d run into
a wall. Esther was sitting in the rocker with a light blanket draped over her shoulder, her head bent over the feeding infant, humming softly. She’d changed into a black dress, probably loaned to her by Ina. It was a little old-fashioned, but the color gave her skin a luminous quality, like a fine pearl. James was struck by her beauty and the amazing creation that was a mother and child. Swallowing hard, he crossed to the window and turned his back, giving her time to finish.

  “You may turn around now.”

  He did but stayed across the room. “Mrs. Travers, how are you feeling this afternoon?”

  “Numb.” She finished burping the boy and leaned over to put him in the basket.

  “Here, let me help.” James settled the baby and looked up to find her watching him.

  “I’m so sad I can’t think. I don’t want to think. Then I get so angry at God, at Claude, at myself. Even you.” She blushed, the rise of color enhancing her beauty. “I apologize for raising my voice earlier. My mother would have been appalled at my behavior.”

  “There’s no need for apologies. Your feelings are your own. Please don’t think you need to temper your words because I wear a preacher’s collar.”

  Esther smiled and he found himself mesmerized by the bow of her lips. “All right, next time, I won’t hold back.” Her smile faded and she pushed to her feet. “I suppose we must talk. Let’s go out there so we don’t wake him.”

  He saw her pain reflected on her face as she rose and wanted to insist that she sit down again, that there was no hurry. But the child needed a decent burial soon, so James guided her slowly to the doctor’s waiting room. Pocket doors could be closed, shutting the room off when the day was done. She favored her left leg, and he could see bandages where Doc had treated her injuries, probably when she fell from her horse. James seated her on the small settee and took the closest chair.

  “Mrs. Travers—”

  “Emma,” she blurted.

  “I’m sorry, I thought your name was Esther.”

  “My daugh—” The sob broke his heart. “I want to name my baby Emma Jane.”

  James felt helpless. Losing a loved one was always hard, but to lose your child? “It’s a beautiful name.”

  “Emma was my mother’s name. I think she’d like it that her granddaughter was named for her. Even if she didn’t live long enough to know.”

  “Your mother is gone?”

  Esther leaned her head back and stared at the ceiling, blinking hard. “Two years ago. My father died soon after. He wrote to tell me that Mama was gone. He said he didn’t know how he could live with his heart so broken. Now I think I know what he meant.”

  When her body began to shake with her sobs, James shifted to sit beside her on the small settee. Taking her in his arms, he held her while she cried out her own heartbreak. When her tears slowed, he released her and fished out his handkerchief. Pressing it into her hand, he went to pour a glass of water and give her some time to collect herself. When he turned back, he saw her press the cloth tight against her nose and inhale. It was only then he realized it must smell of his sweat. Embarrassed, he held out the water. “I’m sorry. I forgot that it wasn’t clean.”

  “It smells good. Of a clean man and honest sweat. Not whiskey and filth.” Accepting the water, she drained about half before handing it back. “Thank you. So, what do we need to do? I know we have to bury my—” She broke off on a sob and struggled to regain control. “Where?”

  James understood. “We have a small cemetery on a grassy hill behind the church. I can take you there if you’d like, if you’re up to the walk.”

  “I’ll manage. I would like to see it. See where she will be. But I need to… I have to…”

  “She’s in the parlor across the hall. Would you like me to stay with you?”

  “No.” She worried at the handkerchief crumpled in her fists. “I want to be alone with her. One last time. Please.”

  “Of course. Take as long as you need. I’ll wait.”

  “I’ll feed your little boy before I join you.”

  “Thank you.”

  Rising, she slowly crossed the hall and closed the doors. James stepped back to the kitchen to let Doctor Finney know their plans. “Should she be up and walking after what she’s gone through?”

  “The delivery was an easy one. The child’s death wasn’t because of difficulties in birthing.”

  “Still, she fell from a horse and—”

  “She’s bruised, of course, and scraped up some. But getting out will help her, I think. Let her walk if she feels up to it. Just take your time and stop if she asks you to.”

  Hank rose from his chair. “You just let me know where to dig the grave, Reverend. Shall I spread the news so folks will come to the service?”

  James considered the offer. Would Esther want to have a lot of strangers around or only those she knew, however briefly? “I don’t think so, Hank. Doc, if you and Ina will come, and you, too, Hank, that will be enough. I don’t want to overwhelm her with people she has yet to meet.”

  Doc was nodding before he finished speaking. “I agree. She seems to be a very private woman. Mrs. Meier might come if you ask her.”

  “That’s a good suggestion. I didn’t realize they’d lost so many children of their own.”

  “Dorothea is a strong woman, but she’s been through some hard times. I’m sure she’ll help in any way she can.”

  “I asked her to visit Mrs. Travers. Perhaps you could suggest she wait until tomorrow afternoon, instead.”

  “I’ll be happy to stop by the mercantile as soon as we’ve finished here. We’ve put the body in the parlor until it’s time.”

  “Esther is with her now. She named her Emma Jane. It was her…” He trailed off when Esther joined them.

  “Don’t do that. I know you were talking about me.”

  “Would you like to have the service this evening, as the day begins to cool off? We can wait until the morning, if you’d prefer.”

  She shook her head. “This evening is acceptable.”

  “Then let’s be on our way.”

  Esther draped the shawl over her head in place of a hat and stared at the ground. She looked at him, then away. “I don’t want to talk to anyone right now.”

  “You won’t. King’s Ford is the kind of place where everyone knows everyone’s business. If I sneeze at the doctor’s office, by the time I reach the mercantile Mr. Meier will say bless you as I open the door. By now, everyone in town will know where we’re going and wouldn’t think of approaching you. When you’re ready, though, they will smother you with kindness.”

  Her smile was slight and shaded with grief. “I’d forgotten. In a mining camp, everyone makes it a point to know nothing about anything.”

  “How did you end up in a gold camp, if I may ask?”

  “My husband, Claude. After our marriage, in spite of his agreement with my father, he announced that farming wasn’t for him. He’d heard about gold in the Dakotas and we were heading north within three days.”

  “That isn’t much time to prepare.”

  “Which he discovered when we ran out of food before we reached Missouri. We had a little money, a wedding gift from my parents. It was enough to get us to Saint Louis. He sold the wagon and most of the contents, including several family heirlooms intended for our new home. And I found work in a café in Saint Charles to pay for passage on a steam ship to Saint Joseph.”

  He knew she’d left out much of the story, but he didn’t push. Walking at her pace, he guided her past the church and up a gentle slope to the cemetery. The ground flattened out here and had plenty of room for generations of burials. The grass was turning brown in the late summer heat, but it was still a pretty spot. The thing it lacked was shade.

  The large trees on this end of town had been cut down by the first to settle here. The lumber went into small homes, the mercantile and the saloon, and maybe some into his church. Some replacements had grown from the roots that remained. Others had been planted by s
quirrels and birds, and a few were his own work. By transplanting Ponderosa pines from the surrounding hills, he’d created some areas where, eventually, you would be able to find shade. Though the hardy tree grew relatively quickly, it would still be several years before they helped in the heat of August.

  He led Esther to a bench loosely ringed by the tiny pine trees. For now, they’d have to settle for the privacy they offered. He positioned himself between her and the sun, which beat down on his black coat.

  “It’s pretty here.” Esther studied the view of the plains and hills. “Are we facing north?”

  “Yes. I thought this might be a nice spot for Emma.”

  Her shoulders rose and fell with her deep breath. “I came from that way.” She pointed toward the distant Dakota hills. “I suppose it’s appropriate, in a way.”

  “Because that’s where your husband is buried?”

  “Because that’s where she was conceived.” She scooted over to make room on the bench. “Please don’t hover.”

  “I’m trying to keep you from the worst of the sun.”

  “I want to be in the sun. I feel like I’m wrapped up in the dark and I need…” Her words trailed off.

  James understood what she didn’t say. He sat beside her on the bench and kept silent, letting nature do what it did best. He’d found a lot of peace on this hill, in sun and snow, letting God’s creation seep into his soul and releasing all the petty annoyances to float away on the wind.

  “This is a pretty place,” she said again. “May we put Emma there?” She pointed to a flat place a few steps away. “From there she can see all the way to forever.”

  James smiled at that bit of fancy. “Of course.”

  “When?” He felt her bracing for his answer.

  “Not until you’re ready, but soon.”

  Her shoulder brushed his when she nodded. “I don’t want to let her go. I only got to hold her for a few moments. Seconds, really, when I wanted forever. Why couldn’t the doctor save her and let me die? Why?”

  “I don’t know, but I believe there is a reason, just as there’s a reason that little boy was left with me.”