Jesse guided Miss Mullin through the hallway, then followed her up the stairs. Wonderful smells drifted to them, and Jesse’s stomach rolled in anticipation. Miss Mullin licked her lips, too. Jesse stifled a chuckle. If she ate her own cooking, she’d likely see Mrs. Shilling’s dinner as a real treat.
Charley and Cassie already sat at one end of the table, Arthur Randall and his two boys on the same end but the opposite side. Adeline was perched on Randall’s knee like a little princess on a throne. Jesse tried not to stare at the incongruous sight.
Miss Mullin scurried past the table to the kitchen doorway, calling, “Toodle-oo, Neva! May I be of help?” A flurry of female voices rose, and Jesse presumed Mrs. Shilling was putting Miss Mullin to work.
Jesse took the chair at the far end of the table on the same side as Charley and Cassie so Miss Mullin and the Savages could sit closer to their hostess.
Mr. Randall visited quietly with Charley and the little girls. Bumps and thumps and muffled voices carried from the kitchen. The good smells, the long table ready to accommodate a crowd, and the homey noises took him back to his childhood home, and the longing to revisit it—to revisit the people who’d filled the table—grew stronger than his hunger for food.
Feet clattered on the stairs, and Bud burst around the corner with Reverend and Mrs. Savage behind him. The adults each carried a toddler, and Bud took them to the four seats across the table from Jesse.
“Here you go. Ma put some catalogs on the chairs so Benji and Jenny can reach. She said to tell you she’s sorry she doesn’t have highchairs for them.”
“We’ll be just fine, Bud.” Mrs. Savage pulled Jenny’s knitted cap from her head, and the little girl’s fine blond hair stood out like a nimbus.
Bud grinned and smoothed his hand over the child’s hair. “I’ll tell Ma you’re here.” He angled himself toward the kitchen doorway and bellowed, “Ma! Everybody’s here!”
“Gracious, Bud,” came his mother’s voice, “you needn’t alert the entire town!”
Laughter erupted.
Grinning sheepishly, Bud slipped into a chair two seats up from Charley.
The reverend gathered his family’s outerwear and carried it to the parlor while Mrs. Savage lifted the toddlers onto their stacks of catalogs. She turned as if to enter the kitchen, but Mrs. Shilling came out carrying a platter with the most beautifully browned turkey Jesse had ever laid eyes on. If it tasted half as good as it looked, he’d have a very satisfied tongue.
She smiled at the minister’s wife. “Please join your family. I have plenty of help already, and we’ll have dinner on the table in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.” She set the turkey near the foot of the table and hurried back into the kitchen.
Saliva pooled in Jesse’s mouth as the bounty increased. The length of gold fabric serving as a runner down the center of the table nearly disappeared beneath the food. Baskets of rolls. Rainbow-tinted glass saucers of jam, butter, pickled beets, and sliced cucumbers with onions. Crock bowls of green beans, stewed tomatoes, moist-looking stuffing, snowy mashed potatoes and gravy. It seemed the parade between the kitchen and dining room would never stop.
Finally Mrs. Shilling brought out two different Jell-O salads shaped like tires. She set one at each end of the table, and Adeline clapped her hands and crowed, “Yummy!” Little Jenny and Benji Savage imitated her. Everyone laughed.
Mr. Randall put Adeline on the floor and sent her to her chair with a pat on her bottom. Mrs. Shilling, Miss Mullin, and Belle took their seats, and Mrs. Shilling stood at the head of the table behind her chair. “Reverend, would you be kind enough to say grace?”
Jesse ducked his head to hide a smile. The minister would certainly offer a better prayer than the one he had at this table two months ago. Of course, if she asked him to pray today, he’d do better, too. He and God had talked a little more frequently of late.
Ernie folded his hands, and everyone around the table, including his two little ones, followed his example. “Our most gracious heavenly Father, we gather today to—”
A terrible clamor interrupted. Jesse looked up to a sea of startled faces.
Mrs. Savage caught her husband’s arm. “I believe someone is fighting.”
Mr. Randall bounded up. “They’re behind the mercantile.” Both of his sons jumped from their chairs as if ready to join the melee.
Jesse rose, holding up his hands. “Everyone, stay here. I’ll take care of it.” Rather than waiting for agreement, he darted through the parlor to the staircase. By taking the steps two at a time, he made it to the bottom in a few seconds.
He swung open the back door and trotted directly to three ragtag men, two of whom held tight to the third one, who struggled like a wildcat and yowled loud enough to wake the dead. “What’s going on here?” Jesse roared over their shouts.
The pair wrestling the one into submission turned their angry glares on Jesse. The tallest one growled, “Who’re you?”
“Jesse Caudel, the sheriff of Buffalo Creek. Now tell me what you’re doing with this man.”
With a nod to each other, the duo flung the man at Jesse’s feet, then stood over him with triumphant grins creasing their dirty faces. The shorter one announced, “We’re bringing him to you, Sheriff.”
“That’s right,” the tall one added. “We caught you a thief.”
Neva
Neva stared out the kitchen window into the backyard, unable to believe what she saw. The hobos who’d so frightened her outside the cellar had returned, and they’d brought another unfortunate man with them. They must have been fighting over the few remaining crackers Belle had put in the lean-to the night before. Sympathy rolled through her. What kind of hunger drove men to scrabble over a handful of saltines?
She hurried into the dining room, where her guests jabbered in confusion. “Please excuse the delay. We’ll eat soon, but first I need to—” She bustled off, determined to reach the sheriff before he ordered the men away.
She was calling his name before she reached the back door, and when she stepped outside, the two hobos, Herb and Ansel, dashed to her, both talking at once.
“Ma’am, ma’am, we caught him. We brought him back, ma’am. The sheriff here says he’s gonna put him under arrest.”
Their babble made no sense. She gaped at one, then the other. “What?”
Sheriff Caudel crossed the yard, pulling the third hobo along by his collar. “According to these fellows, this is the man who took off with the contents of your cashbox.”
“That’s right.” Herb threw his skinny shoulders back and glared at the accused thief. “He was bragging how the owner of Main Street Mercantile left the door open for him, easiest stealing he’d ever done.”
Ansel bobbed his head. “As soon as we heard the name of the store, we knew we couldn’t let him get by with it. So Herb and I jumped him. Took every dollar from him.” He dug in his pocket and pulled out a wad of bills. He handed the mess to Neva with the dignity of a crown bearer bestowing jewels on a queen. “We can’t say for sure it’s all there, but what he had on him, we kept for you, ma’am.”
Neva held the crumpled bills, tears distorting her vision. “I never thought I’d see this money again.”
Ansel pulled his battered hat from his head and held it over his chest with chapped, dirt-rimmed fingers. “We’re sorry it took us so long to bring it back. Sometimes the bulls threw us from the trains before we even took off. We ended up walking the last dozen miles, pretty much dragging him the whole way.” He jabbed his thumb at the thief.
Neva glanced at the man with Sheriff Caudel. Dried grass and mud stains covered nearly every inch of his clothing. What a sorry sight he painted with his filthy clothes, downcast face, and thin, sunken cheeks.
Herb stepped near, wringing his dirty hands together. “After your kindness to us, we wanted to repay you.” He stuck out his hand. “Are we square?”
Neva looked at the man’s hand. Broken nails, dirt encrusted into every tiny crease. She pushe
d the bills into her apron pocket and then reached out. She held his cold, dry hand between hers and met his watery gaze. “No, sir, we aren’t square.”
The hobos sent startled glances at each other.
Neva smiled. “You’re one up on me. But if you’ll come inside and have dinner with my family, that should help even the score.”
Jesse
Wasn’t she something, inviting that pair of misfits to sit at her table? But he wasn’t surprised by it. After all the other acts of compassion he’d seen her perform, he would’ve been more surprised if she hadn’t asked them to come in and eat.
Jesse kept a firm grip on the thief’s arm and eased close to Mrs. Shilling. “Ma’am, I’m going to take this one over to the sheriff’s office and put him in a cell. You all go ahead and eat without me.”
Still holding the hobo’s hand, she turned a firm look on him. “Absolutely not. We will all eat together.”
She sure could be stubborn when she set her mind to it, but so could he. “Your food will grow cold while you’re waiting on me. Go ahead and eat, and I’ll come by later for a plate of leftovers.” She’d probably send a plate for this ne’er-do-well he had with him, too.
Mrs. Shilling sighed. “Mr. Caudel, when I said all, I meant all. There are three empty chairs around my table. Thanks to the arrival of Herb, Ansel, and—” She looked expectantly at the thief.
He mumbled, “Men ridin’ the rails call me Rover. But my folks named me Rufus.”
“Rufus,” she went on, “the table will be complete. Now let’s go.” She aimed Herb for the back door and gestured for Ansel to follow. Jesse, too stunned to do otherwise, trailed behind them.
When they reached the top of the stairs, she paused and addressed the three men. “There’s a washroom right here. Go in, clean your hands and faces, then”—she grinned at Jesse, and he automatically grinned back, knowing what she intended to say—“follow your nose to the dining room. We’ll be waiting for you.” She marched off without a backward glance.
No matter what she thought, he wouldn’t leave the hobos unattended. He stood outside the washroom door while they went in one at a time and came out still whisker cheeked and attired in rags but with much cleaner hands and faces and carrying the essence of soap. A great improvement.
In spite of the enticing aromas, the men approached the dining room with trepidation. Pity struck. How out of place they must feel in Mrs. Shilling’s neat, clean house. Did it remind them of the homes they’d lost, the families they’d left behind? “Don’t worry. You’re welcome here. Go ahead and sit.”
Apparently Mrs. Shilling had already warned the other guests about the newcomers, because no one seemed shocked when the four of them entered the room. The hobos pulled off their hats and slid into the three empty chairs next to the Shilling children, leaving the only open chair at the head of the table. Jesse stood, uncertain.
From the other end of the table, Mrs. Shilling offered a smile. A genuine smile. A smile holding relief and a hint of accomplishment. “Mr. Caudel, as soon as you’re seated, the reverend will say grace.”
He sat. Once again they bowed their heads, the three hobos sniffling, and Ernie began to pray. “Our gracious, loving heavenly Father…”
Neva
Snowflakes were dancing outside Neva’s window when she awakened Sunday morning. She watched them land on the glass, one second resembling minute delicate doilies and the next teardrops as the inside warmth reached through the glass and melted them.
She rolled away from the sight and sighed. Should she awaken the children, bundle them, and take them to church service? They’d all stayed up past bedtime last night, with the exception of Adeline, who drowsed against Neva’s arm while the rest of the family discussed the possibility of going to California. Of the four children old enough to participate in the discussion, only Cassie seemed ready to go. The others, although willing, lacked real enthusiasm. And Neva found herself battling the same uncertainty.
Bits and pieces of conversations with others and her own thoughts rolled through her mind, creating a jumbled maze of confusion.
“Those children will ever carry the stench of illegitimacy in this town. In a large community perhaps they could find a contingency of people who would be unaware and accept them. But Buffalo Creek is not a large community.”
“People will settle down in time, forget.”
“Send them away, Neva. If you send them away, your misery—and theirs—will come to an end.”
“We haven’t done anything wrong. Not me or you or Belle or Charley or Cassie or Adeline. We have no reason to hide.”
The same question rose again. If she took the children and left, would she be hiding them or giving them the chance for a happier life?
“Momma?” Belle called from outside Neva’s door.
“What is it, darlin’?”
“It’s getting late. If you don’t hurry, we’ll be late for church.”
She looked out the window again. “It’s snowing.”
“What difference does that make?”
Neva shook her head, releasing a soft huff of laughter. If her children wanted to go after the way they’d been treated, how could she even think of keeping them home? She pushed the covers aside. “All right. I’m up. Go ahead and get dressed, and I’ll—”
Giggles bubbled from the hallway. “Momma, we’re all dressed and ready to go. We’re waiting for you.”
Neva turned her face to the ceiling, imagining God smiling down at her. Wherever we end up—California or right here in Buffalo Creek—we’ll be all right. You are with us.
Arthur
Arthur ushered his sons into the church building. They stamped the snow from their feet and hung their coats on pegs in the small cloakroom, then moved into the sanctuary. Although they’d arrived only minutes before the service was due to begin, the room was mostly empty. Apparently the first snowfall of the season had kept the folks who lived far from town and those who walked to service at home. Except for Neva Shilling. His heart leaped.
“Come on, boys.” He led them to the left-hand pew at the center of the rows. Neva sat on the end, her attention on Adeline, who was pointing to a picture in a story Bible. He stood for a moment admiring the sweet turn of her jaw, the smooth line of her wavy reddish-brown hair twisted into a puffy bun dotted with melted snowflakes, and the neat fit of her navy-blue dress. Neva Shilling was a lady in the finest sense.
He touched her shoulder, and his heart gave a grander leap when she looked up and immediately smiled. “May we join you?” he asked.
He held his breath, waiting. Would she refuse him again? To his great relief she nodded and whispered to her children to scoot over. Arthur slid in next to her with Leon and Leroy crowded on his other side.
Leon grunted. “Can I sit in the pew behind you? With Bud?”
“You may sit in front of me where I can flick your ear if you don’t behave.”
A soft giggle sounded—Neva.
Arthur swallowed a smile. “And whether Bud joins you is up to his mother.”
Neva gave her consent, and the two boys settled directly in front of Neva and Arthur. Their departure freed up inches of space, but Arthur felt no need to scoot away from her. And she didn’t shift away either.
A smile pulled at his cheeks, and he ran his fingers over his mustache several times to bring it under control. He shouldn’t sit here grinning like a besotted schoolboy in church, of all places.
Reverend Savage stepped onto the dais and invited the congregation to open their hymn books to “What a Friend We Have in Jesus.” Three hymnals waited in the little holder on the back of the pew. Leroy grabbed one, Belle took another, and Neva reached for the third. She opened it and then held it so Arthur could look, too.
He tried to sing, but his voice refused to cooperate. A knot filled the back of his throat. There was something intimate, something special, about sharing a hymnal with her. Her soprano, however, came out clear and sweet, and he enjoyed li
stening.
“ ‘Do thy friends despise, forsake thee? Take it to the Lord in prayer!’ ” She glanced up at him as she sang, as though ascertaining if he was hearing the words. “ ‘In His arms He’ll take and shield thee, thou wilt find a solace there.’ ”
The congregation went on to the fourth verse, and Arthur managed to join them. The final reference to the day believers joined the Father in heaven, where prayer was no longer needed, filled him with a sense of promise he hadn’t experienced since Mabel was alive. When he’d told the preacher he was a prodigal, the man had asked if he was ready to come home, and Arthur hadn’t answered. But he answered now.
Yes, Father, I’m ready to be Yours again.
The hymn ended, and Reverend Savage thanked the organist and then turned to those gathered in the pews. “We just sang one of my favorite hymns. Isn’t it wonderful to think that we have such a friend in Jesus? He is a friend who never abandons us, never disappoints us, never discourages us. He’s the kind of friend everyone needs, the kind of friend we should all aspire to be.”
Neva lifted Adeline into her lap, and Cassie tried to climb up, too. Adeline squawked and slapped at her sister. Without thinking, Arthur lifted Adeline onto his knee, leaving Neva’s lap open for Cassie. Adeline sat sideways and played with the buttons on his vest, content. Warmth flowed through his chest. How good it felt to help with the child, to have her trust him and accept his attention. In that moment if someone tried to take Adeline away, he would fight tooth and nail to keep her with him.
He glanced at Neva, and he answered her tender smile with one of his own before they both turned their attention to the front, where Reverend Savage paced back and forth as he continued his sermon.
“Unfortunately we often fail as friends. We allow petty grievances or disagreements to divide us. Sometimes we think we have good cause to be angry because those we call ‘friends’ do things that hurt us. But what was Jesus’s advice in those situations?”
Room for Hope Page 33
