by Mills, DiAnn
What Lena referred to as a dugout more closely resembled a cave dug out of a hillside with a portion of the front built with the same sod bricks. With his keen insight into the world of mathematics, he should be able to calculate the length and width of sod necessary for repairs. Come spring, perhaps they could locate lumber to have hauled in for a good, solid barn.
Lena pulled the wagon to a halt. The boys jumped from the back and fell into the welcoming embrace of a mangy dog that had emerged from out of nowhere. Barking and wagging its flea-bitten tail, the animal eyed the newcomer suspiciously. . .and growled.
Gabriel hesitantly stepped to the ground. He didn’t care for dogs. He’d never owned one or knew anyone who did, but he’d been bitten once when he’d bent to pat a dog while walking to the Philadelphia library.
“Just let him sniff you,” Caleb said, when the dog growled at Gabriel the second time. “Turnip, you need to make friends with this man. He’s going to be marryin’ our ma.”
The dog’s name is Turnip? “We don’t have to do this right now,” Gabriel replied as he deliberated whether to help Lena down from the wagon or wait to see if the dog took a bite from the seat of his trousers.
“Put Turnip in the barn,” Lena said to her son. “Gabriel can make friends later.”
Once the dog followed the boys into the dilapidated dugout, Gabriel offered her his assistance. Immediately he noticed her firm grip—stronger than his.
“You have a fine-looking place here,” he said.
She frowned. “Don’t add lies to your deceit. Everything is falling apart, and you know it.”
“I’m not by nature an egregious person,” he replied.
Lena planted her hands on her hips. “Gabe, let me tell you right now. Those big words don’t mean anything to me. Here in Nebraska, we don’t have time to learn the meanings of such nonsense. Using them will only upset folks, make them think you are better than they.”
Is she always this petulant? And the name of Gabe? No one has ever called me anything but Gabriel.
Lena whirled away from him. He saw her shoulders rise and fall before she faced him again. “I’m sorry, Gabriel. This is not how I wanted our first meeting. We’re supposed to be getting to know each other, not quarreling. Will you forgive me?”
He wondered the extent of Lena’s sensibilities, for he’d certainly seen a gamut of them in the brief time they’d been together. Could he endure a lifetime of irrational emotions? Of course, he must. His mother could flare at a moment’s notice, then turn her sweetness toward an unsuspecting victim. His integrity lay foremost in his mind, and he’d made a commitment to the woman before him. After all, God had given him clear direction. Hadn’t He?
“I can most assuredly forgive you and take into consideration your emotions. I’d be a fool not to comprehend that my credentials do not meet with what. . .with what you anticipated. But rest assured, I will curtail my vocabulary to something more acceptable. Making good friends is important, and a proper image is quite desirable.”
“Thank you, and you can start right now. I never thought I was an ignorant person, but I’m having problems following your words.”
Were all women so particular? His mother had been his only example, and she always had her mind set on business—and on her disappointment in him. Lena flashed her troubled gaze his way. He could make a few concessions, since she had more to lose in this endeavor than he. “I’ll do my best,” he said, carefully guarding each word. “I’ve never been called Gabe, but it does have a pleasant sound to it.”
She brightened. “You like it? Wonderful. I know Gabriel in the Bible was a messenger, and I’d like to think of you in the same way, but shortened seems to fit you.”
At last she appeared happy. He inwardly sighed. Now, on to other things. “Perhaps we can talk later after your sons are in bed?”
“I’d like that very much.”
He could quickly grow accustomed to Lena’s smile. He offered one of his own, then quickly turned to secure his trunks from the wagon. “Where shall I put my things?”
“Inside the cabin, in the boys’ room for now.” She folded her hands in front of her as though searching for the courage to say something else. “I hope the barn is all right for a few days,” she finally said.
“Most certainly,” he replied, lifting the massive trunk into his arms. He’d ache tomorrow from this work.
“I’ll fix us some supper. I hope you like venison and carrots and potatoes.” When he nodded, she continued. “The boys have chores and milking to do, so we’ll eat as soon as they’re finished.”
Gabe felt the call of a challenge. “And I’ll assist the boys as soon as these are inside.”
His first view of the cabin, or rather what he could see of it, astounded him. It was dark even with two windows, but the sod bricks were nearly three feet thick, which made for a wide window ledge. Lena had a few dried wild flowers setting in a crockery jug alongside a framed picture of an elderly couple.
“Your parents?” he asked, adjusting the trunk in his arms.
“Yes.” She tapped her foot on the earthen floor, then pointed to a quilt near the back. “That’s Caleb and Simon’s room.”
He maneuvered through the meagerly furnished dwelling: a rocking chair in front of a fireplace, two small benches positioned around a rough-sawn table, and two other ladder-back chairs. A small cookstove rested in the corner where a few pegs held two cast-iron pots and a skillet. Glancing about, he saw a good many household items hanging from the walls. Lena was a tidy woman. Another quilt separated the main living area from what Gabe assumed was her bedroom. He tried not to stare at it, feeling his face redden at the thought of sharing a bed with this woman. The plastered walls were a surprise to him; he’d assumed they would be covered with newspapers.
The boys’ room held a chest and two straw mattresses, and he noted not much room for anything more. The earthen floor came as a shock. He’d been accustomed to wood floors with a soft rug beneath his feet. A bit of dried grass had fallen from the roof to the floor. Surely this leaks.
A short while later, he plodded out to the dugout, the old twinge of excitement fading to somewhat of an uncomfortable knot in the bottom of his stomach. A distinct, disagreeable smell met his nostrils. How sad, one of the boys must surely be ill.
As Gabriel entered the darkened dugout they referred to as a barn, a horrific stench took his breath away, and he covered his nostrils. This was worse than Archerville. “Caleb, Simon, is everything all right?”
A voice replied from the shadows. “Yes, Sir. We’re back here. Just starting to milk.”
He recognized Caleb and ventured his way. “I’d like to help. What is that dreadful odor?”
Simon rushed down to meet him. “I don’t know, ’less you’re smellin’ the manure.”
Ah. Why didn’t I detect it? “I’m sure you’re right.”
“It’s powerful bad,” Caleb said. Gabe had yet to make out the boy because his eyes were having trouble adjusting to the faint light. “Tomorrow we have to clean out this barn before Ma thrashes us.”
“Perhaps I can be of assistance?” Immediately he regretted his words. Hadn’t he already decided to make repairs to the various buildings?
“Oh, yes,” Caleb replied, a bit too enthusiastically.
By this time, he’d made out where the young boy knelt on his knees, leaning into a brown-and-white cow. A pinging sound alerted Gabriel to milk squirting into the bottom of the pail. So Caleb squeezes those conical attachments to discharge the milk.
“When’s the last time you milked a cow?” Caleb asked, grinning into his half-filled bucket.
Gabe refused to reply. “Do you have a stool?”
“He can have mine.” Simon stood and peered up at him curiously. “I have one, but it’s a little wobbly. Try balancing yourself with your leg.”
The endeavor didn’t look too difficult. He stepped over beside Simon’s cow, but the stool, which was really a rickety nail keg,
appeared a bit precarious. The youngest Walker bolted from his position, making room for Gabe. About that time, the cow made a woeful sound as though lamenting the milking process.
“Hush,” Simon ordered. “And don’t be kicking over the bucket either.”
As soon as Gabe eased onto the keg, it gave way and splattered into a mass of wood pieces and a splintered seat.
“Goodness, Mr. Hunters,” Simon said. “You’ve gone and done it now. Ma will have a word to say about this.”
“You hush, Simon,” Caleb said. “He couldn’t help the keg breaking with his weight and all. Ma knows the difference between an accident and an on-purpose.”
God help me, Gabe silently pleaded. “Boys, I can milk this cow in short order as soon as we can find a suitable stool for me.”
“Ain’t none,” Simon said. “You’ll have to bend down on your knees.”
Gracious, is anything easy here? “I shall need to construct a new milking stool, but for right now I’ll do as you suggest.”
Gabe gingerly touched the cow. Its bristled hide felt strange, reminiscent of the short-haired dog that had bit him years ago. He wondered if cows bit.
No matter. He’d see this task to the end. All of a sudden, the appendages hanging from under the cow’s belly looked rather formidable. Did he grab them one at a time or use both hands? Rubbing his fingers together, he realized the time had come to show his initiative. He reached out and grabbed an udder. It felt soft. Not at all like he’d imagined. Gabe squeezed it, and a stream of milk splattered his jacket.
“In the bucket, Mr. Hunters,” Simon said impatiently. “Ma says waste not, want not.”
“And she’s so right,” Gabe replied. “I’ll not be shirking in my duties.” His next attempt sent the milk into the pail. He sensed such satisfaction, but the twisted position of his body made it difficult to breathe.
“I bet you never did this before either,” Lena said, towering over him.
four
Somehow Lena restrained the doubts and ugly retorts threatening to spill out over supper. Ever since she’d entered the barn with the suspicion that Gabe Hunters knew nothing about milking and discovered she was right, her mind had shaken with anger.
How had he lived for over thirty-six years without learning the basics of life? Even city folks had to eat and survive. No matter if God had been involved with this husband mess she’d gotten herself into, come morning she’d be sending Mr. Gabe Hunters packing.
To make matters worse, she’d told Caleb and Simon to clean out the barn three days ago. The smell would make a person throw up their shoes. Lena tilted her head thoughtfully. After a night in the barn, Gabe would be more than willing to leave.
“Good food, Mama,” Caleb said, breaking the silence.
The fire crackled, providing all the sound Lena needed while she ate. “Thank you. Most times we have cornbread, beans, and sorghum molasses,” she added in explanation to their guest. “Tonight was. . .supposed to be special. In the morning—”
“We’ll get right on cleaning the barn after we deliver the milk,” Gabe announced.
Lena said nothing. She had learned a long time ago about letting her temper simmer rather than letting it boil over. That method didn’t always work, but tonight, laced with prayer, her angry, racing thoughts were subsiding.
“I agree with Caleb,” Gabe continued. “The food is delicious.”
“Thank you, Mr. Hunters.” She didn’t dare lift her gaze to meet his for fear she’d give into temptation and tell him just exactly what she thought about his book learning. Maybe it was enough to know he had the company of animals tonight.
“When did you want to hold our discussion?” he asked, taking a big gulp of coffee.
She swallowed a piece of molasses-soaked cornbread. “As soon as the boys go to bed. Normally, we have Bible reading before their prayers.”
“May I do the honors of reading tonight and conducting prayers?”
You’re going to need it by the time I’m finished with you. She bit her tongue and tried to respond civilly. “Sounds like an excellent idea. I look forward to what you’ll be selecting.”
“What have you been reading?”
“Job,” she said.
“Mama, I don’t think Mr. Hunters wants to read about a man who had sores all over his body and his family died,” Caleb said. Upon meeting her scrutiny, he quickly added, “Of course, what he reads from the Bible is his choice.”
“Job is fine,” Gabe said. “There’s something for us to learn in every piece of Scripture.”
Lena glanced at his barely touched food. From the looks of him, Gabe seldom refused a meal. She lifted her coffee cup to her lips. She hadn’t much of an appetite either—too many emotions floating in and out of her mind. Feeling Gabe studying her, she lifted her gaze to meet his. Kindness poured from those coppery pools and along with it a sensation akin to hurt and desperation. Her father had given her a cat once that looked at her in the same way. The animal had been beaten and left to fend for itself until her father brought it home.
A smile tugged at Lena’s lips. After all, she could be kind and show him Christian hospitality until she told him there wouldn’t be a wedding.
To her surprise, Gabe suggested all of them help Lena clean up from supper. Soon the dishes were washed and the debris that had fallen through the roof whisked away from the floor. A moment later, he disappeared into the boys’ room and returned with spectacles in his hand.
“Here’s the Bible,” Lena said, handing him James’s weathered book with its turned-down pages. Someday she’d give it to Caleb. All of a sudden, she wanted to jerk it back. This man had no right to take James’s chair for Bible reading. She choked back a sob. “We sit by the fire, and I read from the rocking chair.”
“You have to be real careful,” Simon said, finding his position on a braided rug. “If you don’t say the words right, the devil will pounce on you while you’re in bed.”
“Simon,” Lena scolded. “Where ever did you hear such a thing?”
He glanced at his older brother in one giant accusing glare.
Gabe chuckled, surprising her. “Well, Simon, I haven’t been able to do much since I arrived here with any expertise, but I can read. And the devil doesn’t come after you when you’re sleeping just because you can’t pronounce a word correctly.”
Caleb found his spot near his brother and said nothing. Lena would deal with her older son later. The two boys faced Gabe, warming their backs against the fire. If Lena hadn’t been so upset, she’d have treasured the sight of her precious sons looking to a man for Scripture reading. She pulled a chair from the table, hoping he hadn’t lied about knowing the Bible.
“We’re near the end of Job,” Lena said. “I have it marked. Oh, it’s the last chapter.”
Gabe carefully put on his spectacles and cleared his throat. “Job, chapter forty-two. ‘Then Job answered the Lord, and said, I know that Thou canst do every thing, and that no thought can be withholden from Thee.’ ”
Lena felt a knocking at her heart. I know You can do every thing, and that no thought can be kept secret from You. She shifted uncomfortably. Lord, I do know You are all powerful.
Gabe continued. “ ‘Who is he that hideth counsel without knowledge? Therefore have I uttered that I understood not; things too wonderful for me, which I knew not.’ ”
This is about Gabe, isn’t it? Lena knew in an instant her belittling thoughts about him had not honored God, especially when she’d doubted the Father’s hand in Gabe’s coming to Nebraska. She didn’t understand any of it.
But he doesn’t know a thing about farming. Having him around and having to teach him will be like having another child underfoot.
Lena fidgeted; the sweltering realization of being under conviction brought color to her cheeks. She glanced Gabe’s way, his reading perfect against the stillness around them. Even if she had to show him how to farm, how ever would she get used to looking at him? She peered into the fire.
James had presented a striking pose, and his hearty laughter had brought music to her soul. But Gabe? Although he had nice eyes, she’d have to look at his portly body and pallid skin for the rest of her life.
“ ‘Wherefore I abhor myself, and repent in dust and ashes.’ ”
Lena wanted to scream. All right, Lord. She wouldn’t tell Gabe he had to leave. She’d teach him how to farm and tend to animals. She swallowed and choked on her own spittle, causing Gabe to halt his reading until she was all right. Yes, she’d marry him. But for the life of her, she didn’t understand why, except God had ordained it, and He had a plan.
“What do you boys think about Job’s life?” Gabe asked once he’d finished reading.
Simon balanced his chin on his finger. “Hmm. Pick better friends?”
Gabe smiled and ruffled his dark hair. “That’s one thing. Caleb?”
“I’m not sure, Mr. Hunters. I think we’re not supposed to get mad at God when bad things happen.”
“Yeah,” Simon piped in. “The devil might be out looking for someone to hurt and give you a wife who wants you to die.”
Lena hoped the warmth in her face didn’t show. Her whimsical son always saw things in a different light, and he wasn’t afraid to voice his feelings.
“You’re both right,” Gabe said. “We don’t always understand why things happen, but we can always trust that our God is in control.”
Lord, You’ve already made me feel awful. There’s no need to do it again. “Gabe, would you lead us in prayer?” she asked, hoping he didn’t hear the turmoil in her voice.
He nodded. “Father God, thank You for bringing me here to this fine home. Bless Lena, Caleb, and Simon. Guide them in Your infinite wisdom and keep them safe in the shelter of Your almighty arms. Amen.”
“Amen,” Caleb and Simon echoed. They glanced at Lena expectantly. When she nodded, they bid Gabe good night and followed her to their small bedroom behind a blanketed curtain.
All the while she tucked them in and planted kisses on their cheeks, Lena considered the man sitting by the fireplace. She’d made a commitment to God. Now, she had to echo that same promise to Gabe.
