Minding Benji (Sweethearts of Jubilee Springs Book 5)

by Sandra E Sinclair

  A thrill trailed along her entire body when she thought of Mr. Langton’s face when he came home and found her gone. So much for his mindless threats, good luck carrying them out without her.

  Even if things didn’t work out for her in Colorado, she’d find a way. She was on her own. Her brother had turned his back on her, and she hadn’t crumbled nor withered away like a flower in winter. She was still here, and stronger for taking this step in her life.

  It was a fair walk to the train station, but she didn’t care. She felt as if she’d grown wings and was as light as a feather, and so was her baggage. It was all she could do not to raise her arms out at her side, and soar through the air.

  On the way, Prudence stopped to send a telegram, informing Mrs. Millard she would be on the next train to Denver. The station platform was quiet as Prudence sat on a bench to wait for her train. She dipped into her purse and looked at the letter with the train tickets inside that Maddy had given her the night before. By morning she was packed.

  She clasped them tightly between her fingers, still finding it difficult to believe her application had proved successful. To her astonishment, the man she was matched with had paid the entire fare, plus her overnight board at Mrs. Millard’s. And he’d provided spending money for necessities during the journey.

  He must be a man of great influence, she thought, to have paid for everything and requesting her immediate departure. She skimmed through her letter again, her heart full of hope.

  They were delighted, her application proved successful. And an ideal match had been found based on the results of their graphology analysis. The suitor’s name was Austin Alwin, aged twenty-four. So he was a young man. He owned a farmstead on the outskirts of Jubilee Springs, Colorado—her final destination.

  Not only did they have a perfect score, she’d meet the other specified requirements in respect to age, availability, and without children—all prerequisite of the client—that were non-negotiable. As her presence was wanted post haste, they would have to forgo the usual protocol of the exchange of letters, as Mr. Alwin thought it an unnecessary chore, considering time was of the essence.

  He believed they would have an adequate amount of time to get to know each other before the wedding if she came right away. Prudence couldn’t have agreed more, although she did have a gnawing sensation in the pit of her stomach and what she presumed was the usual angst. Such as, what if the result of the analysis was wrong and she hated him on sight? Or they were completely wrong for each other. Maybe he wasn’t very attractive.

  Prudence Fairchild, be still.

  When did she become so shallow? Looks weren’t everything. No they weren’t but it would help. She could grow to appreciate his finer qualities. What if he didn’t have any finer qualities? Oh, brain, do be quiet. It was too late to be thinking on these things now. They should have been considered long before she sent her letter of application.

  Prudence had to trust God to put the right man in her path. The letter did say she would be living with his brother, who was a pastor, and his wife until she and Austin were married. He couldn’t be that bad if his brother was such a religious man, surely.

  She was startled from her musings by the hooting of the train as it came into the station. At the same time, a scruffy-looking man, carrying a basket, who she smelled before she saw, came around a corner.

  Was that foul-looking creature yelling her name through his toothless mouth?

  She stood and stepped forward for a better look. A chill ran through her. Should she acknowledge him in some way? The other people on the fast filling platform were staring at him before they looked around for the person he was referring to, as if they could tell who she was by name calling alone.

  Mothers pulled their children closer to them as they stepped out of his way, covering their noses with handkerchiefs. Men glared at him as he bobbed and weaved his way through, still shouting. Prudence gazed around her, not sure what to do.

  He seemed to know what he was looking for, because he was making a beeline straight toward her, after peering in the faces of woman who wore coats similar to hers.

  What could she do? Should she try to run? What if this man meant her harm? Why would he be looking for her? She didn’t know him. Was it an attempt by Mrs. Langton to flush her out, find out where she was going, embarrass her in front of all these people she’d be traveling with?

  Something snapped inside her, telling her not to be so ridiculous, and to make her presence known, so the man would cease calling out her name for all to hear. It was suddenly decidedly worse than anything else she could think of. Had she said something sooner, the whole spectacle could have been avoided or at the very least minimized.

  “Prudence Fairchild. I’m looking for a Prudence Fairchild.” His voice sounded rough and grainy, as he came closer still. The other would-be passengers parted for him to progress.

  Before she knew what she was doing, her hand shot in the air. “Over here, sir, this way.” She waved her hand. The man stopped and grinned. He wasn’t toothless, his teeth were simply black.

  He started up again, bobbing toward her, the basket stretched out in front of him, like an offering to some Greek god in the stories she’d read to the Langton children.

  “I’ve been asked to deliver this basket to you, ma’am. It’s from your brother. I took it to the address stated and the woman who opened the door looked inside, ma’am. She told me to hurry and bring it here to you. She gave me extras too, said I’m to tell you Maddy sent me. Told me it was important you got this basket before you left. I ran all the way, ma’am.”

  Maddy told him to bring the basket here? It’s important?

  Prudence reached for the basket and he drew it in closer to his body, then shot his open palm forward and up under her nose. He wanted more money for a basket he’d been paid to deliver and bring to the station. Now he wanted paying for her to take it off him.

  The gall of the man. Having been paid so many times he must have decided what was in the basket must be valuable.

  Prudence dipped into the purse on her wrist for some coins and dropped them from a distance into his open palm. He pushed the basket with some force into her middle and stalked off into the crowd. She staggered back and held onto the basket with both hands, surprised by the weight of it.

  Returning to her baggage, she sat on the bench, and placed the basket on her lap, then pulled back the blanket. Her gasp echoed in the air before she could cover her mouth, and caught the attention of those nearby.

  What was this? No, it can’t be? No! Not now, not when she’d come so close to getting away. What was she going to do with…with the contents of the basket—soft and pink—and sleeping peacefully through all the yelling and the hustle and bustle of the busy station? Tears welled in her eyes. Who would do such a thing? Then she saw the note peeking from under the blanket. She slipped it out and placed the basket on the bench beside her.

  Dearest Prudence, sweet sister.

  I do hope you’re well. It’s been awhile I know and there is much I should have told you. I’m sorry. However, I’ve found myself in a very awkward and unsustainable position. Although you may have guessed what that position is by now. Meet Benjamin Junior. He’s my son. I lost his mother to childbed fever just a few short days after he was born.

  I have no way of looking after him. I’ve tried. Your place at the Langtons is far more amiable. It’s you or the orphanage and I know you wouldn’t want that for the boy. My late wife called him Benji. It would be nice if you could do the same.

  I’ll send for you both when my circumstances improve.

  Your beloved brother.

  Benjamin Fairchild.

  A baby? She hadn’t heard a word from her brother in over a year and now he’d left her in charge of a baby? His baby. What in the world was she going to do now? She couldn’t go back to the Langtons and she couldn’t possibly take a baby with her to Denver. Good Lord, whatever should she do?

  Chapter 6
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  By the time Prudence alighted the train in Denver, gone was the well-groomed woman who had boarded it. Hair which was once controlled and in place, tumbled about her head and shoulders. Her dress lay flat, free of bustle and layers of petticoats.

  She had made a different use of her under lace. One was currently slung across her shoulder and tied at her side in a sling holding the baby close to her body, the rest of her petticoat kept Benji’s little bottom dry. She blew her raggedy tresses from her face and staggered with the baggage and basket of what was left of the baby’s paraphernalia.

  With the money sent for her necessities, she had purchased baby supplies, loathing to spend one dime of her savings, should she be cast aside for bringing a baby with her. She felt as if she’d escaped from working down a mine, and smelled just as bad. Weary from her burden, and the journey, Prudence sat on a bench, looked at little Benji nuzzled to her chest and sighed. What am I going to do with you?

  Her betrothed had stated inarguably no children were allowed. Her only option would be for her to fall on their mercy, ask Mrs. Millard to take pity on her, and maybe find her a different match. She had enough money to repay Mr. Alwin, and a little bit left over to keep her and Benji going for a few days, possibly a month if she spent carefully. Prudence shook her head; she’d have to find herself a husband before then.

  A gurgling sound came from somewhere close to her. At first she thought it was Benji, but he was sound asleep and purring like a kitten. Then the noise came again and she realized it was her stomach—she hadn’t eaten in days.

  Lord only knew what she looked like, but she couldn’t risk trying to straighten herself up and disturbing Benji. He was an angel when asleep and could be quite the opposite when awake. He seemed to favor being close to her bosom, so she kept him there for a few hours’ peace.

  The station was soon empty enough for her to see a woman, petite in stature, with reddish hair, and a little round in build. The woman looked out of place. Her eyes had traveled to Prudence and lingered several times before moving on dismissively.

  Could she be Mrs. Millard? It had to be her. She was the only person still looking around lost. Prudence decided to approach her and find out. She gathered her things and walked toward the redhead.

  “Hello, are you Mrs. Millard?” Prudence asked.

  The woman didn’t answer but continued to stare, taking in every detail. Prudence’s nerves rattled under the scrutiny of her gaze. It seemed to pierce through to her depth. Then she spoke, “My, my, what a pickle. I’d been hoping I was wrong, but here we are.” The woman still stood in a trance-like state.

  “Are you Mrs. Millard?”

  The woman who had once looked poised and confident, nodded. Her eyes were transfixed on the bundle attached to Prudence.

  “Is that what I think it is?”

  “Yes, he’s my nephew. I have to look after him until his father comes for him. Do you think Mr. Alwin will mind?”

  “Do I think…err… I don’t know what to think at this precise moment.” Her hand went to her hair and she patted it into position. Although her hair was perfectly fine—not a strand out of place. She gazed about them, then said, “I’d better get you back to the house. We can’t have this discussion out here. Let me help you with this.” She took the basket from Prudence’s hand and led her to the waiting buggy.

  After they loaded the buggy, Mrs. Millard helped Prudence in too by giving her behind a shove as she climbed in. Prudence slid down the seat to make room for the other woman. Mrs. Millard paused long enough to straighten her skirt and then gazed at Prudence. Her eyes held a distinct mark of sympathy as she shook her head.

  “I have to say, I don’t know what I’m going to do with you and the little one. I’ve met Mr. Alwin, and he seemed unshakable on the idea of taking on a woman with children. I’ll have to send a telegram and make him aware of the situation.” Mrs. Millard jumped down from the buggy to walk the short distance to the building with a sign saying Postal Telegraph Company on the front. “I won’t be long. In the meantime, you and the child will stay with me until we can work this thing out.”

  “Thank you,” was all Prudence could say, grateful not to be waiting on a station platform with nowhere to go, and for this woman’s kindness. It appeared Benji was grateful too. He opened his eyes as Mrs. Millard entered the building, and smiled at Prudence.

  Benji’s little fist opened out and his hand made light taps against her bosom as though he were trying to soothe her anxieties, telling her not to worry. As if he knew they would be all right. Prudence cupped his tiny cheek in her hand, leaned in and kissed his forehead; and prayed her little nephew’s reassuring strokes and gurgles were right. Benji snuggled into her and closed his eyes again, contented in her warmth, his palm flat against the drumming of her heart.

  Mrs. Millard returned. “Well that’s done. All we can to do now is wait for a reply from Mr. Alwin. I don’t live far from here. What’s the young’uns name?”

  “It’s Benjamin Albert Fairchild the second. But my brother has instructed me to call him Benji, because that’s the name his late wife preferred.”

  “You’re telling me that little fellow has no mama?”

  “No, my brother said she died of baby fever, shortly after Benji was born.”

  They rode some of the way in silence. Prudence was lost in thought. This journey had been an experience, an adventure a million miles away from how she’d seen her life playing out. With no idea how to look after a baby on her own, she was grateful for the women she’d met on the various trains, who had taken her and Benji under their wings and showed her what she needed to do.

  A fast learner, by the time she’d boarded the last train to Denver, she had gotten proficient in identifying the needs of her nephew. She’d purchased diapers and some safety pins, bottles, and formula for him when there were no generous mothers on the train to wet nurse him for her. When she ran out of clean flannel—she used her petticoats. She was on her last one.

  “Do we have time to stop off and purchase some diapers for little Benji? I…I don’t have any left until I can do some laundering.”

  “Then what have you been using?”

  “My petticoats, I don’t have any of those left either.”

  “Oh my goodness. I’ll stop off at the mercantile and we can get you what you need.”

  True to her word Mrs. Millard stopped off and bought Prudence everything she needed for Benji’s comfort. She insisted on it. Prudence was shocked by this woman’s benignity. She’d shown them more kindness and consideration than the woman who had once been her mother’s closest friend and confidant, and of late her own brother.

  Now ensconced at Mrs. Millard’s, the warm water soaked through her pores and smoothed away the dirt and grime of being cooped up in a train for hours on end. These past few weeks had been arduous, and yet it had restored Prudence’s faith in mankind and the unselfishness of others. A trait she thought had long died with the death of her parents. Strangers had proved to be more loyal and done more for her and Benji than the people she was supposed to love and trust.

  Benji was washed, fed, and asleep in a drawer padded out for his comfort in a bedroom down the hall, while she soaked away her stress in a well needed hot bath. Mrs. Millard had ordered her to get some rest while she found a way to help Prudence out of her situation, saying she didn’t want to see Prudence until supper time.

  Music to Prudence ears, as she ached all over, and felt ready to kill for a few hours of undisturbed sleep. If she was quick, Benji wouldn’t wake for another three hours. With that thought, she stepped out of the metal tub, slipped on her nightgown, and padded down the hall to her room. She peeped into the open drawer at Benji, asleep without a care in the world. Love for the child radiated out of her. She climbed into bed, sleep nipping at her heels.

  The humming of a lullaby woke Prudence. She shot upright, and acknowledged the strangeness of the room. It took her a moment to realize where she was, her eyes darting t
his way and that. A young woman with sad, soulful eyes was nursing Benji.

  “I’m sorry if my singing disturbed you, ma’am. But the little one here, well, he was fidgeting, so I thought maybe I should feed him, case’n his bawling woke you. Then I kinda forgot myself. I apologize.” With that she turned her attention back to Benji. Without looking at Prudence she said, “Mrs. M. said to tell you when you woke, she’ll be waiting for you in her office. She’s had word.”

  Prudence nodded, although it didn’t matter, the young woman only had eyes for Benji. She stretched, then climbed out of bed. The woman said Mrs. Millard had word. What would this mean for her and Benji? There was no use speculating. The only way she was going to find out was to get dressed and go downstairs.

  Prudence quickly slipped on the dress laid out for her, and made her way down the stairs to Mrs. Millard’s office. She paused with her hand in the air ready to knock on the closed door, sucked in a breath and mumbled softly, “Let it be good news, please Lord.” Then she let her knuckle tap the wood in front of her, and waited.

  “Come in,” came the faint reply from the other side of the door.

  “You wanted to see me?” Prudence asked as she entered the room, to find Mrs. Millard sitting behind her desk.

  “Yes, I do. Please sit.” Prudence did as she was told. “I’ve received a telegram from Mr. Alwin, not your Mr. Alwin, his brother the pastor. It wasn’t a very long message. Here, read it for yourself.” She slid the piece of paper in front of Prudence on the desk.

  Please proceed as planned. Charge any additional cost to me. Will receive Miss Fairchild and child tomorrow. Pastor Jeffrey Alwin.