by Ann Shorey
That night Ellie lay awake, thoughts of Matthew and Mr. Beldon warring in her mind. Matthew had told her not to pursue the notion of her father having other offspring. Now, in the worry hours before dawn, she wondered if he might have been right. The little bit of information she possessed surely wasn’t enough for anyone to use to locate records of her father’s life. Any children born of a later union would now be adults themselves. Why would they want to travel the long distance from southern Texas to Illinois? It would be better if she were just to forget the whole thing. And yet . . .
The feather tick crackled. In spite of the open window, the air felt sticky. She missed the comfort of Matthew’s steady breathing. The chirping of crickets and the occasional hoot of an owl filled the night.
“Please, God, don’t let anything happen to him,” she whispered. “If you bring him home, I’ll—” No, I can’t promise that. She amended her prayer. “Please bring him safely home.”
Ellie scooted upright and leaned against the headboard. All her life she’d leaned on others to carry her through difficult times, and now every support was gone. Her mind skittered away from the possibility that Matthew wouldn’t return.
She swung her feet to the floor and padded to the window, as though at this moment she might see him riding into the yard. A half moon soaked their acres in dim gray light. Shadowed shapes lurked at the edges of the cornfield, but no matter how closely she watched they didn’t take the form of a horse and rider.
The following morning, Ellie hurried the children toward the door as soon as Mr. Wolcott’s Dearborn wagon rolled into the yard. “Don’t keep him waiting. We’re already late.” She took Maria’s hand and followed the boys down the back steps.
Charity beamed at them as they approached. “Don’t you two look lovely in those pink dresses. Maria, you’re going to be as pretty as your mama some day.”
Maria dipped her head and blushed. Harrison shot her a scornful look. “She ain’t pretty. She’s just a fool girl.”
Clamping a hand on her son’s shoulder, Ellie gave him a gentle push toward the wagon. “That’s enough. Get in.” She turned to Mr. Wolcott. “Will coming to pick us up make you late for preaching today?”
“The trip out here makes no difference.” He sounded upset. “I went in early to open the church and found Marcus Beldon already there. Seems he’s intending to take care of preaching from now on.”
Charity touched his arm. “Now, Ben, he didn’t say that. He told you he’d be pleased to fill in whilst Reverend Craig was away.”
Away. So far Ellie hadn’t told anyone but Molly and Karl about her husband’s intention to resign the pastorate. She placed her hopes on the presiding elder refusing to let him go, or possibly suggesting he set aside some time to rest.
“Who does Beldon think he is, I’d like to know,” Mr. Wolcott said under his breath.
Ellie remembered the day she’d first met Mr. Beldon and his wife at the church. “He did tell us he’d been educated for the ministry.”
“Educated! What have all these educated ministers ever done for the world? Sit in their classrooms and memorize scripture. Did Jesus ever go to a university?” He flicked the reins over the horses’ backs, jolting the wagon forward. “All this fancy learning is going to ruin the church. We need more men who answer a call and are willing to ride from place to place, spreading the gospel.”
Charity leaned over and whispered into Ellie’s ear, “Now you’ve got him started. We’ll hear about this all the way to town.”
“Matthew’s of the same opinion,” Ellie whispered back. “I wonder if that’s why he doesn’t care for Mr. Beldon. He’s never said as much, but I can tell by the way he acts when the name comes up.”
When they entered the church, Ellie sought a space for herself and the children on one of the rear benches.
Mr. Beldon had been walking toward the pulpit when he glanced over his shoulder and noticed the Craig family entering. He came straight down the center aisle and clasped both of Ellie’s hands in his.
“I can’t tell you how happy it makes me to see you here. I’ve been concerned that you would take it wrong to have me preach today, but your presence completely reassures me.” He continued to hold her hands while smiling down at her. “I hope you’ll accept my humble efforts on Reverend Craig’s behalf.” Then he bent his head and whispered, “I’m looking into the matter we spoke about the other day. Did you bring any more information?” He stood close enough for Ellie to see the thick lashes that framed his dark eyes.
The warmth of his grasp burned into her skin. Both attracted and frightened by his nearness, she swallowed in an effort to push her pounding heart back down her throat.
She slid one hand into her reticule and offered the folded list. “Here’s everything I could think of.”
Mr. Beldon palmed the paper, slipping it into the breast pocket of his jacket. “I’m sure it will be a great help.” He kept his voice pitched low.
Aware people were watching them, Ellie drew back. “Thank you.” She spoke loudly enough to be heard by those around them. “My husband would be pleased at your willingness to serve, did he but know of it.”
He tipped a bow in her direction and strode to the pulpit, while Ellie sank onto a bench, weak-kneed.
“Papa wouldn’t be pleased at all,” Johnny whispered. “Why did you say he would?”
“Hush. You don’t know what Papa thinks.”
“I know what he thinks about Mr. Beldon.”
Heads turned and curious eyes rested on them.
Ellie ignored them, squeezing her son’s knee none too gently. “Enough. You know not to talk during church.”
Johnny came as close as he dared to giving her a hard look, but settled back with his arms folded across his chest and his jaw jutted forward.
While Mr. Beldon expounded on the scriptures, using words Ellie was sure some in the congregation were at a loss to understand, she glanced around at the filled benches. She hadn’t seen many of the people present for more than a month.
Standing alone after the service, Ellie realized Mr. Beldon’s welcome hadn’t influenced those who felt that she, too, was under judgment. Few people stopped to greet her on their way out the door. When she lifted her eyes, Ellie spotted Hettie Sims moving in her direction, her turkey wattle chin bobbing as she closed the distance between them.
Fixing a polite smile on her lips, Ellie held out her hand. “How nice to see you here, Miss Sims. I know Reverend Craig would be pleased.”
Hettie Sims sailed past her as though Ellie was part of the wall, the scent of rose water and musty wool trailing her out the door.
Ellie dropped her hand, face burning. Old biddy. I hope she falls down the steps. She glanced after Hettie’s retreating back, disappointed to see her navigate the front steps without a stumble and glide toward the street. Ellie turned to see if anyone had noticed the snub, and saw Molly and Karl coming toward her. She hurried to join them, eager to be with people she loved and who loved her.
Molly hugged her. “You and the children come to dinner, won’t you? We haven’t seen you all week.” She glanced at the Wolcotts. “Karl already invited Ben and Charity, so you’re stuck waiting for a ride unless you come.” Her tone teased.
Spirits lifting at the prospect of a pleasant afternoon, Ellie teased back. “You leave me no choice.” She glanced outside at her boys, who were already huddled with Molly’s son Franklin. Maria and Lily sat together in Karl’s wagon, looking impatient.
She linked arms with Molly. “Let’s go.”
Once Ellie left the prying eyes of the congregation and settled next to her sister-in-law, she dropped the mask she’d worn during the service. Sighing, she leaned back and closed her eyes.
“Are you all right?” Molly asked.
“I’m trying to be.” Ellie squeezed her hands together. In a low voice, so the children wouldn’t overhear, she continued. “I’m worried about Matthew. He’s had more than enough time to go to Quincy a
nd return.”
Karl leaned around his wife. “Perhaps the presiding elder detained him on church business. Isn’t there a general conference coming up?”
“No. Matthew wouldn’t be going anyhow.”
“Give it a few more days. I’ll come by midweek to check on you.”
That night Ellie sat at her kitchen table reading Karl’s copy of the latest Illinois Monitor. She’d borrowed it to read news of the conflict with Mexico and possibly gain some inkling of where Molly’s son, James, might be. After combing through the densely printed columns of type, she had no more idea than Molly and Karl did. She hoped Mr. Beldon had more luck.
Her heart beat faster at the memory of his reassurance that morning that he hadn’t forgotten her own request.
She was ready to fold the paper and set it aside when a small notice near the bottom of a page caught her eye. “Divorce. Ruby Newberry vs. Arthur Newberry. Filed by Ruby Newberry. Sangamon County.” Ellie’s hand shook. She’d never known anyone who had been divorced. She stared at the printed page and tried to absorb the news. This would create another scandal. Then a second thought struck. Would people hold this against Matthew too?
Ellie grabbed the paper, pushed her chair away from the table, and hurried to the stove. She shoved the Monitor into the firebox, watching as the edges browned on the banked coals. A spurt of flame appeared in one corner. Then remembering the paper belonged to Karl, Ellie jerked the Monitor out of the stove, singed but intact, and slapped at sparks worming along the edge. She glanced around the kitchen, looking for a place to hide the ugly announcement. She opened a cupboard, pushed cheese molds out of the way, and tucked the newspaper behind them.
She latched the door and started for the table to blow out the lamp when she realized how nonsensical her actions were. If the notice is in the Monitor, anyone can read it. It’s not like a wound I can hide beneath a bandage.
Ellie squatted to reach for the folded paper when she heard footsteps on the back porch. She hurried toward the sound, leaving the cupboard open. The footsteps outside stopped.
She paused, hand on the latch. “Who’s there?” She took a step backward.
A voice rasped, “It’s me. Arthur.”
Ellie flung open the door. “Uncle! I thought we’d never see you again.” She wrapped her arms around him, feeling evening dampness on his coat.
He patted her shoulder. “Don’t take on so. I’m here.” He followed her into the kitchen and flopped into one of the chairs.
In the lamplight, Ellie saw purple hollows under Uncle Arthur’s eyes. His face had gaunted up during the month he’d been away. His beard, which he’d always kept trimmed, was a mass of white whiskers that bunched under his nose and straggled across his cheeks. The characteristic expression of perpetual good humor had disappeared.
“I’ll build up the fire. You must be chilled to the bone.”
“Thank you. A little heat would help these shakes.” His teeth chattered between words.
“My goodness, you’re sick. I’ll brew a pot of tea, then get you to bed. There’s a cot ready in the extra room.”
He nodded. “You’re a good girl. Your aunt would be proud.”
At his statement, Ellie stiffened. She slipped in front of the cupboard and pushed the door shut with one knee.
While she fed wood into the fire, Uncle Arthur said, “I figured on sleeping in your barn tonight, but when I saw your light I reckoned you and Matthew was still up.” He glanced around the room. “He gone to bed?”
“Matthew’s not here.” Ellie answered over her shoulder, still arranging firewood on the coals. “He went to Quincy Friday last and he’s not back yet.”
“Q-q-quincy?” Uncle Arthur stuttered the question around the tremors that shook his body.
Alarmed, Ellie shot a sharp look at him. She left the firebox door ajar to allow heat into the room, then laid a hand on his forehead. “Fever. You must have the ague. In the morning, I’ll send one of the boys to Karl to get some quinine pills.” She took his arm and tugged him to his feet. “We’ll talk tomorrow—for now you need rest. I’ll bring the tea when it’s ready. Do you think you can make it up the stairs?”
A spark of his old humor lit Uncle Arthur’s eyes. “Made it this far, didn’t I?”
Late the following afternoon, Uncle Arthur sat at the kitchen table, this time wrapped in quilts. Karl and Ellie sat across from him. His skin remained pale and yellowish, but the tremors had abated.
He cupped his hands around a mug of hot broth. “Thought I could find Ruby if I headed for St. Louis. Seemed a likely place for actors to be. I must of got the ague from them river swamps down along the way.”
Karl nodded. “That’s rank air, especially if you’re not used to it.”
“Never give it much thought when I started out. All I could think of was catching up with your aunt.” He gazed at Ellie while he spoke.
She darted a glance at the closed cupboard door, unable to meet his eyes.
Uncle Arthur took a sip of broth. “Come to think on it, I don’t know what would’ve happened if I’d come across her.” His shoulders slumped. “Anyways, I didn’t find no sign nowhere.”
Karl rose from his chair. “Afraid I need to get back. I’ve got office hours on Monday evenings, and folks usually come in.” He handed a tin pillbox to Ellie. “See he takes these three times a day, at least for the next week.”
“A week?” Uncle Arthur’s head snapped up. “I’m going to my place after supper.”
“No. Your farm’s waited this long. It’ll wait a few more days. Get your strength back first.”
“I don’t want to burden Ellie—she’s got enough worries with Matthew gone.”
Ellie bent and dropped a kiss on the top of her uncle’s head. “How could you be a burden after all you’ve done for me?”
The light behind his eyes dimmed. “I must be a burden. My own wife doesn’t want me.”
“She’ll be back. You wait and see.” Karl put on his hat and turned to Ellie. “Can you come out to the buggy for a minute? Molly sent a ginger cake for the young’uns.”
Once out of earshot of the house, he asked, “Want me to go looking for Matt? I don’t like the idea of him being away for so long. I can’t think what might be keeping him.”
She shook her head. “You’ve got too many people depending on you. Quincy’s a long ride.” Then fear overrode stoicism. “But if you know of someone who might go . . .”
Karl removed his hat and combed his fingers through his blond hair. After a moment’s thought he said, “I’ll ask Griffiths’ son Daniel. That fellow could track a snake over a pile of rocks.” He reached into the buggy and handed her the cake. “He’ll find him.”
Ellie brushed moisture from her forehead and placed the cooled flatiron on the stovetop, exchanging it for a heated one. She looked longingly out the open back door at the balmy June afternoon, then glanced at the pile of clothes still waiting to be ironed. If she could get through her chores before suppertime, she’d go out and sit with Uncle Arthur. It was too pretty a day to spend indoors.
She’d sent Maria and Harrison to the cornfield to pick worms from the stalks. Jimmy and Johnny were mucking out the barn. Ellie sighed and smoothed another dampened garment over the short-legged board resting on the kitchen table. Curls of steam rolled out under the path of the hot iron, scenting the room with the clean smell of the outdoors.
Dust rising from the road caught her attention. Matthew? Ellie dropped the iron back on the stove and hurried to the porch in time to see Mr. Beldon’s phaeton rattle across the plank bridge and into the farmyard.
Upon seeing Ellie, he pulled his team to a halt and jumped from the carriage. “I came as soon as I heard.”
He strode toward her. As usual, he wore a well-tailored coat and trousers, which emphasized his muscular physique. He didn’t look like a man who ever rushed anywhere.
“Heard what?”
Behind Mr. Beldon’s back, Ellie noticed her twin sons w
alking toward them. Both were almost as tall as Matthew, and already possessed a goodly share of his strength. They covered the distance between barn and house and stopped next to her.
Mr. Beldon’s eyes met Ellie’s. “About your husband’s disappearance. I came to see if I could be of any help.”
Johnny stepped closer to his mother. “Uncle Karl’s already got Daniel Griffith out looking. You’re not needed, sir.”
“Don’t see what a city man could do, anyhow,” Jimmy muttered.
Shocked, Ellie’s mouth dropped open. “Boys! Remember your manners.”
“It’s quite all right.” Mr. Beldon took her hand, ignoring the twins. “Children tend to get overexcited when their normal routine is disrupted.” He spoke in a soothing tone. “My offer stands, if you need me.” He squeezed her hand, then turned and strode toward his carriage.
16
The morning after Matthew’s arrival at Meechams’, he overheard Barton Meecham and his mother talking in the kitchen.
“What do you reckon brought him clean over here?” Mrs. Meecham asked.
“Don’t know. He said he wanted to talk to me, so we’ll find out soon enough.”
“I’ve said this before, Son. You need to visit the churches in your district more often. This poor boy had to ride all this way to talk to you.”
“Ma.”
Matthew heard exaggerated patience in the man’s voice.
Meecham continued, “In the first place, Brother Craig is hardly a boy. He’s near to my age. And in the second place, if he’d stayed put, I’d of gotten to him in another month or two.”
“Humph. Maybe what he has to say couldn’t wait until you got around to traveling.”
Matthew pushed himself up on the cot with his left arm, grunting at the pain that flared down his right side.
