Kendrick

by Zina Abbott

  Kendrick studied his face in his mirror. He could stand to shave but realized he dared not spare the time for it that morning. Besides, the little dab of water in his bowl he intended to be used to clean up Madeline’s post-breakfast stickiness.

  I need to get more water for those girls.

  On his way out of the bedroom, Kendrick grabbed the wool blanket and pillow mattress from Madeline’s basket. He never broke stride as he walked to the door leading outside. “I have to get more water buckets from the mercantile. If you need more water before then, you’ll have to dip my pitcher into the rain barrel to get it.”

  Kendrick returned indoors to discover Charlotte had started his stove. He raised an eyebrow at the sight of her slicing bacon on the cutting board he kept by his dry sink. By herself, the little minx had gone into the front room that served as his butcher shop and cut off a hunk of bacon.

  He turned to Caroline. She moved the carpetbag to the floor, unfolded one of Madeline’s clean diapers, and used it to tie the baby to the chair. She sat in the other chair and leaned over to offer milk-soaked bites of bread.

  Madeline, like a baby bird, opened her mouth wide each time she saw the spoon coming. After she took a bite, Madeline, wearing a big smile dripping with goat’s milk, turned to Kendrick. She held out one hand toward him and opened and closed her fist.

  Kendrick leaned over and kissed the baby on top of the dark curly locks that covered her head. He stood and smiled as he turned toward the door that would take him out the front of his house and on his way to the mercantile. If the fine folks of Columbia told him yesterday morning that, at this same time twenty-four hours later, all this would be taking place in his house, he never would have believed them.

  Chapter 8

  B y the time Kendrick, his arms laden with more things than he could comfortably carry, returned to his place, he discovered at least four customers, one of them Jeb Cardwell, waited outside his shop. Shoving the rolled-up braided rag rug and two buckets at Jeb, he fished his key out of his pocket to unlock the door. He entered and placed everything he still held on the counter.

  Jeb walked over with the rug. “You want it on the floor out here, or in back?”

  “Just leave it on the counter, Jeb. I’ll take it back in a minute. You can stack those two buckets on the floor out of the way.”

  “Where’s the baby? You pass her off to someone else already?”

  A scowl on his face, Kendrick turned to Jeb. “No, she’s in back, asleep.” I hope. “She’ll be fine until I take care of a few customers.”

  “You want I should go back there and check on her?”

  Panic seized Kendrick. He could not allow anyone to find Dorcas Thompson’s precocious twins with Madeline in his private living quarters. “No, I don’t! I mean, I don’t want anyone disturbing her.” Kendrick eyed Jeb with suspicion. “You sure weren’t willing to come back and help with her yesterday when I needed it. Why are you so anxious today?”

  Jeb jerked his head back, an insulted expression on his face. “I’m not anxious. Well, maybe a mite curious to know how you fared.”

  “We did just fine. After I got her all cleaned up, Mrs. Arnold happened to stop by. She showed me how to work that new-fangled invention called a safety pin. Now, Jeb, by chance are you here to buy meat today? If not, I need to see to my other customers.”

  “I’ll stop by later to see what you’ve got left.” Jeb turned toward the door as he raised his hand in farewell. “Just hoped you’d have the little angel out here for us to look at.”

  “Maybe later, Jeb. I’ve got to pick up her new crib from the mercantile while I’m making deliveries. Once I’ve got that set up, I’ll be keeping her out here with me more. Until then, don’t you have a gold claim to work?”

  Kendrick turned his back on Jeb to wait on his other customers. The citizens of the town of Columbia had not disappointed him. The people crowded inside his shop all knew about baby Madeline, and they all had something to say about her or—more to the point—her mother. It was the comments about his prowess with the deceased madam that griped him and prompted surly responses to discourage further speculation. It did not surprise him that his declarations that he had not been the one to father the child fell on deaf ears.

  More important than his reputation, Kendrick’s gut churned like a swarm of meat bees buzzing around inside him with worry about the Thompson twins. He kept his ear tuned to the wall separating his butcher shop from his kitchen. As much as he wanted to know Madeline was safe and happy, he feared Charlotte’s and Caroline’s chatter might filter through the walls where it could be heard by his customers. The presence of the baby everyone believed he had fathered did not concern him as much as someone discovering he entertained two girls on the cusp of womanhood in his private quarters.

  To avoid coming across as outright rude, Kendrick used the need to tend the baby as an excuse push his customers toward the door instead of allowing them to stay and gossip. Once he emptied the shop, he locked the door. Grabbing some of the loot he purchased at the mercantile, he entered his back quarters. Silence greeted him.

  Kendrick dropped the items he carried on the table. “Anyone here?” Receiving no response, he rushed to the front room to collect the rest of his supplies. Ignoring the curious face pressed to his front window, he closed the door between the shop and the kitchen. A quick check of the bedroom showed the two rooms had been cleaned and everything—including Madeline’s wardrobe—put away.

  Kendrick returned to the kitchen and, hands on his hips, slowly turned full circle, as if he might have missed the three of them hiding on a shelf or in his kindling box. If the Thompson twins had gone home, that was understandable. The question he needed answered was, where was Madeline?

  Kendrick forced himself to stop and think. Only he had the key to his front door. Since it was locked when he returned, he knew they had not gone out that way. The girls would either have taken the baby out the side gate that they could have unbarred from inside the yard, or they could have taken her out by way of the common property line.

  Or they could have her in the yard, perhaps getting into something dirty or dangerous. Visions of Madeline sitting in the middle of his garden or his smokehouse entered his head. He cringed at the thought the girls might have tossed her in the back of his buckboard, only for her to try to pull herself out of it in the same manner she had tried to escape her basket that morning.

  Kendrick yanked his back door open and ran outside. After taking several steps toward his side gate, he saw it remained secure. A glance around the yard revealed no one near the garden or Waggles. He trotted toward the smokehouse. That was one place he did not want anyone to go without his knowledge. Same with his butcher shed.

  Halfway across the long, narrow lot that he had paid for within the first few weeks after opening his butcher business, flashes of color caught Kendrick’s attention. He slowed his steps and turned toward the section of picket fence he shared with the Thompsons. The scene by the oak tree on the other side held his attention.

  As he approached, first Caroline, followed by Charlotte, looked up and waved. They sat on wooden stools, using the thick center trunk of the tree as a backrest. Evidently, it was Caroline’s turn to read, for she held the book.

  Spread on the ground in front of them was quilt with its yellow and blue blocks that had been sent over with Madeline’s belongings. In one corner, he saw a tin cup and a crock which he suspected held goat’s milk. An empty bowl with remnants of what he guessed might have been some of the remains of one of his shriveled apples from his root cellar, cooked and mashed.

  As for Madeline, she rested in the center of the quilt, protected from the sun by the deep shade of the canvas cover. A couple of her diapers were draped over her legs and tummy. He smiled at the sight of her head turned toward him and her mouth hanging open while she slept. When Kendrick reached the fence, he could hear her gentle snores from several feet away.

  Both of the twins stood and
walked around the quilt to join him at the barrier that separated the two properties. When they spoke, the volume of their voices was much lower than it had been earlier in his house.

  “Did you get everything? You really need a better broom. The one you have looks disgusting…”

  “…and some rags for cleaning Madeline up after she eats? If not, you need to wash diapers real soon…”

  “…unless you take your laundry to the Chinese, like Mama does.”

  “Did you find some pretty fabric to make curtains? You need curtains on your window…”

  Kendrick blinked. Curtains on my windows?

  “…and enough extra fabric to make a tablecloth. Not one for eating on, but one just to be pretty.”

  “Madeline will like flowers.”

  “Her tablecloth should match the curtains.”

  Charlotte, the one Kendrick recognized as the twin who focused on the practical, placed her fists against her waist and glared at him in a manner only the daughter of Dorcas Thompson could pull off. “Your wagon hasn’t left the shed, so we know you haven’t made your deliveries yet.”

  “Now, Lottie, don’t scold.”

  Charlotte dropped her hands to her sides as she turned to Caroline. “I’m not scolding. I’m merely pointing out…” Her body slumped and she sighed. “I am scolding, aren’t I?” Wearing a contrite expression, Charlotte turned to face Kendrick. “I’m sorry, Mr. Denham. It’s just that, it’s really important that you be back in time, because I don’t want to deal with what Mama would say if we turned up with your baby in our arms.”

  Caroline eyed the position of the sun before she turned to her sister. “I think he’ll still have plenty of time before we need to go back to the house.” She also faced Kendrick. “Who watched Madeline yesterday when you did deliveries?”

  “I took her to Eagle Cottage. I promise, if I’m running late, I’ll come back and collect Madeline to take with me. I think Mrs. Arnold will be willing to watch her again.”

  Charlotte tapped her lips with her forefinger. “What you really need is someone who can come to your shop and watch her every day.”

  “We’d do it, but…well...there’s Mama to consider. She’s always wants us to prepare the noon meal.”

  “She says it’s part of our education. The truth is, she doesn’t want to do it herself.” As a thought occurred to Charlotte, her face lit with a devious smile. She turned to Kendrick. “I know just the person who can watch Madeline for a couple of hours every day while you make your deliveries.” She turned to Caroline. “You know who I’m thinking about, right? Are you thinking the same?”

  Caroline formed her lips into an “O” as she sucked in a breath. “Yes! She’d be perfect…”

  “…and she won’t mind if we come visit.”

  Caroline clasped her sister’s wrist. “And she’s coming in on the stagecoach this afternoon…”

  Charlotte nodded. “…and she’ll have plenty of free time in the morning because her sons will be in school with our brothers…”

  “…and Mama will be too busy to stop her if she decides to leave…”

  “…and we can show her everything we’ve learned about how to take care of Madeline.”

  Realizing the identity of the woman to whom the twins referred, Kendrick stepped back and threw his hands in the air to ward off the suggestion. “No, no! Not your aunt.” The last thing I want is to be around another fractious woman as disagreeable and contentious as Dorcas Thompson.

  Their hands on their hips, both girls turned to face him and spoke at the same time. “Why not?”

  He cleared his throat as he searched his mind for an excuse that did not sound too insulting. “There are enough problems that have arisen between your mother and me. I hope you realize how much I appreciate your help today. As nice as it’s been, you girls are courting trouble with the way you are skirting around the rules your mother has set for you. In case you don’t know, she was in my shop yesterday.”

  The two turned and gazed at each other, again sharing an unspoken communication.

  Her lips pursed, Charlotte faced Kendrick once more. “Oh, we know.”

  Caroline clasped her hands together and offered him a winsome smile. “That’s why we came to visit you this morning. We overheard her tell Papa about the baby.”

  Kendrick cleared his throat. “Yes, well, at that time, she warned me, in no uncertain terms, that your aunt will soon be busy becoming acquainted with a select few men in town with the intent she will remarry soon. My name has been stricken from the list of potential suitors.” Dodged that bullet. “I am not to approach her in any manner.”

  Both girls stared at him for a few seconds before Caroline shrugged and responded for them both. “Oh, you don’t have to approach Aunt Lydia. We’ll bring her to you.”

  Before he could gather his wits enough to respond, Charlotte pointed at the wagon still waiting in its shed for him to bring Sunshine, the mule, to hitch up to it. “Please go make your deliveries, Mr. Denham. We’ll take good care of Madeline…”

  “…and bring her back in your house to change her diaper when she wakes up…”

  “…but we really, really need to be home on time…”

  “…because Mama’s especially upset today with Aunt Lydia coming in on the stagecoach this afternoon...”

  “…and we don’t want to make her bad mood worse by returning home late—with or without Madeline.”

  Chapter 9

  Columbia, California – Thursday, May 25, 1854

  L ydia opened her eyes as the conductor sounded his bugle to announce to the station the coming of the stagecoach. She already knew that this stop meant she had arrived at her destination—Columbia. She and her boys would step out of the coach for the last time. Instead of the thought filling her with relief, a sense of dread engulfed her.

  Craning her head side to side, she glanced out the windows to determine the manner of town her new home was. With a sinking sense of disappointment, she realized that it was basically the same kind of community that she had seen all along the stagecoach route from the time she left the steamboat in Stockton—rustic. Dirt roads, wood buildings with false fronts, and log cabins. Some of the buildings had boardwalks in front of them and some did not. They all faced the dirt road which had not seen enough rain within recent days to keep the dust from whirling in the air.

  Interspersed among them was a collection of canvas tent structures built over timber frames. It amazed her that stovepipes or chimneys rose above the fabric roofs. How the embers from the fires built within did not send the flimsy structures up in flames was beyond her comprehension.

  The slower the speed of the stagecoach as it prepared to stop, the more the dust from the dirt roads roiled up and billowed inside, causing her to choke.

  “Mama! We're here. We’ve finally arrived at our new home. Will I be able to get out and play now?”

  Lydia look down at Will and offered as brave a smile as she could muster. “Yes, we're in Columbia now, but I don’t think there will be time to play yet. As soon as the stagecoach stops, your Aunt Dorcas should be there to meet us and show us to our new home. Do you remember Aunt Dorcas, Will?”

  “I do.”

  Lydia cringed at the note of disgruntlement in the voice of her oldest. Cole's less-than-enthusiastic response signaled to Lydia that he was old enough to remember his aunt from before the time Dorcas left Pennsylvania to join her husband. No one in the family, including her boys, escaped Dorcas's sharp words.

  As much as she had found living with Horace difficult and, most of the time, uninspiring, she did have to admit that the one protection he provided her was to shield her and the boys from Dorcas. If he was around, Dorcas dared not to say anything disagreeable to her or any of the children in the household. When she had slipped up and spoken her mind, Horace had called her on it to the point of inviting her to get in her carriage and leave if she could not hold her tongue.

  Cole pointed out the window. “
That looks like Aunt Dorcas over there. She's got Lottie and Caro with her, along with Eddie and Jimmy.”

  Lydia sighed and sent up a prayer that her sister had not seen Cole’s offending digit. “Please don’t point, son. It’s not polite.”

  “I want to see.” Will scooted around Lydia's knees in order to join his brother at the window. After staring outside for a couple of seconds, he pulled his head back inside the coach, the enthusiasm gone from his face. “I remember them now, especially Aunt Dorcas. Only, they look a lot older.”

  Cole, a look of disgust on his face, turned to his brother. “Of course, they do, silly. It's been three years since Aunt Dorcas and our cousins left Pennsylvania. We're all older, even you.”

  A question of concern on his face, Will turned to Lydia. “Mama, is Aunt Dorcas still mean?”

  Lydia's face flushed upon hearing the snicker that came from the other side of the coach. Her eyes flickered to the three men seated across from them. One had the good graces to keep a straight face. However, the other two, men who had plagued her with their crude attempts at flirtation, lifted their hands to their mouths to cover their laughter.

  “Hush now, Will. Your aunt Dorcas and Uncle Simon have very generously offered us a home. You boys must be on your best behavior when we say hello to Aunt Dorcas and her family. Remember, we will be guests in their house. We must take every opportunity to express our appreciation.”

  The stagecoach pulled to a stop. Lydia studied the front of the clapboard building next to the depot bearing the letters painted on the high false front advertising it as the American Hotel. She held the hands of both her boys as she waited for the conductor to climb down from his seat on top of the coach while the driver tossed off the luggage that had been stored on top. She flinched at the sound of some of the baggage thudding against the ground. Gratefully, in Stockton, she had watched the conductor for the first leg of the journey load her trunk into the boot at the back of the stage. Her valise rested behind her skirt between her feet and the bench. The tow sack with the bedding that had finally dried rested beneath Will’s feet.