by Lyn Cote
Soon the two men climbed back on the wagon. As Noah drove them away, Martin called over his shoulder, “You think about our suggestion and let us know!”
Judith turned to Asa and lifted an eyebrow.
He wanted to head to his barn and start another leather belt to sell, but he forced himself to repeat what they’d said.
“You don’t want to work on other men’s fields.” She said it as a statement, not a question.
He frowned in reply.
“What’s that in your pocket?” she asked, touching the letter.
He pulled it out. Evidently the motion drew the attention of the children, and they came running back to them. In that moment, their presence wrapped around him. He’d been alone for so long—even when among people. How had it happened that he now had a family and Judith? He handed the letter to her. Would the Farrier family be coming to claim the children?
*
Judith didn’t want to open this letter. She didn’t want to lose the children, who filled Asa’s silence, separating them. Holding the battered paper, she read the return address on the back: Mrs. Edith Waggoner, Sterling, Illinois. Then she realized that Asa and the children were all looking at her, waiting. “Well, I guess we should open it and see who Mrs. Edith Waggoner is.”
She slid her finger under the wax seal and spread out the diamond-shaped paper that enclosed the letter and the one-page letter itself.
June 12, 1873
Dear Mr. and Mrs. Brant,
The local postmaster contacted me with news about members of my extended family, the Farriers. I was very sorry to hear of their passing. Such a sweet couple to leave us at a young age. I am Mr. Colton Farrier’s aunt, his mother’s sister. I understand their children are staying with you. Thank you for taking them in. I will try to contact Colton’s brother, Matthew, but that will take time. He’s traveling in the West. I will keep in touch with you on this matter. May God bless you for your kindness to my great nephew and niece.
Yours faithfully,
Mrs. Edith Waggoner
Judith had wanted to hear from the children’s family and at the same time hadn’t wanted to. She wanted the children to stay. They already had been knit into a family, the four of them. Yet she felt shame at the relief this simple letter brought her. I’m being selfish. God may merely want us to care for them until their blood kin can claim them. She forced down the feeling of possessiveness.
“So, who is Mrs…?” Lily asked, looking up and then leaning against Judith.
“She is your father’s aunt, your great-aunt,” Judith said, smoothing back Lily’s hair. “She sounds like a nice lady.”
“She’s not coming for us?” Colton asked sharply from Asa’s side.
“No, but she is going to try to locate your father’s brother. You remember him, don’t you?” Judith replied as Lily wrapped her arms around Judith’s waist. No doubt this uncertainty was upsetting the children.
“Yeah, I ’member him,” Colton muttered, looking at his feet. Lily appeared confused.
Judith shook herself. This was not about her. These children needed reassurance. “But you are with us now and will stay with us till…” She looked to Asa.
“…till some of your own blood comes,” Asa said. “Already promised. I won’t give you up till good kin comes. I won’t let anybody hurt you.”
Judith nodded. “Now I need to get into the kitchen and start cooking. Or there will be no dinner today.”
Asa touched her shoulder.
She turned to him.
He looked as if he wanted to say something, but then just shook his head and headed to the barn.
She thought over the little she’d heard about the visit from the two men and wondered about what Mr. Steward and the preacher said. Would Asa seriously consider what they suggested?
But most of all, she reveled in the way he’d touched her shoulder. Hope lifted within her again. Maybe Asa was coming to terms with the fact she wasn’t the kind of woman he’d been looking for in a wife. She entered the cabin and went about sorting the wild herbs and berries she’d gathered. And began humming. Her mother used to say, “Where there is life, there’s hope.” Judith clung to that hope.
*
In town, Judith and Asa had met Kurt Lang on the general store porch. His wife, the first schoolteacher in Pepin and now the mother of a sweet little baby boy, sat on the shady bench. Judith sat beside her, Lily at her elbow, gazing at the baby, who blinked at them. Judith had written a reply to Mrs. Waggoner, and they had all decided to walk into town to mail it. Judith could tell Asa was champing at the bit to leave town. But she needed a few more moments of woman talk before returning to the quiet cabin.
A steamboat was just docking, and a passenger was coming ashore. Mr. Ashford passed them, politely nodding as he went. “I’m expecting a large shipment, ladies.” He hurried toward the boat with Gunther Lang, Kurt’s younger brother, in tow.
“The baby’s blowing bubbles,” Lily said, sounding intrigued. “I didn’t know babies blew bubbles.”
Ellen Lang chuckled. “Babies are very interesting creatures.” Beside her stood the toddler William, the foundling who had been left on the teacher’s doorstep.
Judith wished she could talk to Ellen about mothering orphans. But Lily and Colton were within hearing.
“You got two cows plus Chandler’s,” Kurt Lang was saying. “You got too much milk, nicht wahr?”
Asa nodded without enthusiasm, but Judith wondered what Mr. Lang was getting at.
“Well, do you know how to make Käse, cheese?”
“No.” Asa looked at the man, obviously not wanting to talk about his lack of knowledge on the general store porch.
“I can teach you how to make cheese,” Kurt said. “It is gut for food. Then you can use the extra milk better.”
“That sounds interesting,” Judith said. “Is it very difficult to learn?”
“No,” Kurt replied eagerly, “it just takes time and care. People here would be happy to buy it.”
Judith noted that this had finally caught Asa’s interest.
A stranger in a crisp, navy blue suit bustled up toward them. “Good day! The storekeeper tells me that the man I’ve come to see is here. Which of you is Fitzgerald Asa Brant, Captain Fitzgerald Asa Brant?”
Shock splashed through Judith, followed by a protective fear for Asa. “Who are you?” Judith demanded, not caring that she sounded rude. “And why do you want to speak to him?” She glanced at Asa. This was the last thing he wanted known here. What would Asa do, say?
For once she felt as if it were up to her to protect him.
Chapter Thirteen
Judith watched the blood drain from Asa’s face. Her protectiveness surged. She must do something, but what?
The young man looked taken aback. “I’m from the Rockford Register. I’m interviewing men who fought in the Battle of Gettysburg to honor them on the ten-year anniversary of that battle.”
Judith could think of nothing to say to this.
“I apologize for my haste,” the stranger continued. “But I’ve got only till this boat leaves to do the interview.”
Asa turned and broke away. His feet carried him up Main Street. Soon he had turned the bend out of the sight of town. He did not slacken his pace.
Barely aware of the questioning voices raised around her, Judith hurried after Asa. She must stop him from fleeing. He didn’t want attention, and his action now would only bring more. She ran, her corset stays jabbing her with each step. The heat of the day wrapped around her. But she pushed on, focused on Asa, on catching him.
“Ma’am!” The newspaperman was pursing with her. “Ma’am! Wait!”
Judith did not pause. Soon she turned the forested bend of the final rise to their clearing. She glimpsed Asa standing by the barn door. Upon seeing them, he turned and bolted toward the forest, fleeing through their ravaged field of corn.
Breathless, Judith could run no farther. Her lungs were bursting. Pressi
ng a hand over a stitch in her side, she limped to the bench outside her door and sat down, panting for breath. She felt a bit faint and closed her eyes.
“Ma’am?” the persistent stranger said.
She opened her eyes and found him standing in front of her. She stated the obvious. “My husband…will not…agree to an interview.”
The young man with fair hair and a fresh face did not apologize and leave as he should have. He gazed at her hopefully like a puppy. “Ma’am, I’m sorry, but my job depends on my getting these interviews right and in on time. And I must get back on that boat. Please, ma’am? My job depends on it.”
The young man’s plea cut through her worry and discomfort. “My husband will not speak to you. He does not talk about the war.” Even to me.
“Well, could you answer a few questions for me?” he implored. “I need something to write.”
Judith drew on her inner strength. This young man hadn’t come to cause Asa harm. He was just doing his job. And she didn’t want him to lose it. “Very well. What do you want to know?”
“What has the captain done since the end of the war?” The young man stood, his pencil poised over a notebook.
“He is homesteading here. He works with leather.”
“And you two married?”
“Yes, this spring.”
The young man nodded. “What does the captain say of his experiences in the war?”
“Nothing. We do not speak of it.” Though its presence makes itself known, always.
“His quick and daring action in the Battle of Gettysburg helped turn the tide at a crucial juncture. I’m supposed to ask him how he had the courage to take action on the spur of the moment and without consulting his superiors. How did he have the nerve and foresight to order his men to rush into position to stop the Rebels at the Angle?”
Judith marshaled her thoughts, remembering the name, the Angle, a critical action in that horrible three-day battle. Her brother had been with Asa at this point in the pivotal battle that prevented Lee from taking the war north. She had no idea what to say, but words came. “My husband is a man of action. He never hesitates to do what he sees needs to be done. My brother, Gil Jones, was one of his men.”
The young man appeared pleased at this and continued to scribble in his notebook. Then he looked up again. “What did your brother have to say about the captain? Nearly half your husband’s company were killed in that action.”
Horror clutched Judith’s throat. She could only stare at the man openmouthed. Now she remembered those hot July days in 1863. Word of Lee sweeping north and another dreadful battle. She remembered standing beside her sister among so many other women crowded around in front of the newspaper office, waiting for the printing of the casualty lists.
Women had snatched the papers—ink still fresh—from the editor’s hands. She and Emma had scanned the paper for their brother’s name, and when “Jones, Gilbert Private” did not appear, they’d drowned in relief.
But so many of their neighbors had lost sons, fathers, brothers, husbands that day at Gettysburg. Many other women had turned away, weeping, sobbing. The memory brought it all back, the worry, the tension as battle news reached them slowly, the sorrow for neighbors.
Coming back to the present, Judith could only shake her head at the callow youth with his notebook, watching her. So young. He’d been a child during the awful war.
“If your husband hadn’t acted decisively,” the reporter said, “the Rebels might have succeeded that day. The battle might have been lost.”
With effort, Judith shrugged off the painful memories weighing her down. She cleared her throat. “My husband is a decisive man, a very brave man. And now he just wants to live his life in peace.”
A whistle sounded—loud and insistent. “I’ve got to go or miss my boat. I have two more heroes to interview.” The man turned and began running toward town.
He called over his shoulder. “Thank you. Your husband isn’t the first one to refuse to talk to me! Men who fought don’t want to talk about it! It’s odd!” Then the stranger who’d upset their peace vanished beyond the trees.
Judith sat staring at the spot where he’d disappeared. Understanding shuddered through her. Now she knew the awful weight her husband carried. Half his men killed and he gave the order, not a general or some other high officer. Captain Brant had made the move. How did a good man face the bloodshed he’d ordered—even if it had been the right decision?
She closed her eyes and began praying for her husband. They’d made progress. He’d held her hand. How might this interruption from the past affect him? Would he withdraw more? Leave her and the children? Her heart clenched. Asa, come back.
“Where’s Mr. Brant?” Colton asked.
Startled, Judith opened her eyes. “Colton?”
“What happened to make Mr. Brant run out of town like that?” The boy looked both disgruntled and worried.
Judith brought her mind back to the present. “Where’s Lily?”
“The Langs made us stay with them.” Colton screwed up his face. “Lily’s still there. But I finally got away.”
Judith stared at the boy. What could she say?
The truth, of course, and then the spirit spoke to her heart, helping her see the truth. She patted the bench beside her. “Come sit here and we’ll talk.”
*
Returning, Asa paused at the rear corner of the cabin. He’d come back to face the stranger and send him on his way. What had he been thinking? His bolting like that would only make for more talk in town. He’d never turned tail in battle, and he’d let a pipsqueak newspaperman rout him. He was disgusted with himself. And somehow spent. The strong emotions had exhausted him.
Colton was with Judith, sitting beside her with his chin drooping. Why did the boy always look like he was carrying the world on his back?
Asa’s heart slowed, and he nearly started forward.
Then Judith spoke. “Colton, you aren’t old enough to remember the war.”
“My dad was in the war, but just a few months. It ended.”
A fortunate man. Asa didn’t want to interrupt since it sounded like Judith was taking time to say something the boy needed to hear. And if the stranger was nowhere to be seen, there was no rush. He leaned against the cabin’s rough, notched-log corner, ready to wait, trying to come back from the shock. The whole town knew now, or would.
Judith said, “Well, Mr. Brant was a captain. You know what that means?”
“I know that,” the boy said, truculent as usual. “He was an officer. He gave the orders.”
The easy reply grated on Asa, but he remained silent.
“Yes, but I want to talk about you first,” Judith said.
“Me? Why?” The boy craned his neck toward her.
“You’ll see. When your mother and father passed, you went to live with the Smiths.”
Asa observed the boy stiffen.
“I don’t want to talk about them,” Colton grumbled. “They’re gone anyway.”
“Yes, but when they didn’t treat you and Lily as they should have, you decided to act bravely and leave them, didn’t you?”
The boy swung his legs and bent over, his arms folded.
Asa didn’t expect him to reply.
But then Colton said, “I saw the snow had melted, so he couldn’t follow our tracks easy. So in the middle of the night, I woke up Lily, and we snuck out the window with a blanket.”
Judith laid a hand on the boy’s back. “And you found the cave?”
“Yeah. We were okay till Lily got sick.”
Judith stroked the boy’s back. “You were really worried when that happened.”
The boy grunted, twisting his head away. “I didn’t know what to do.”
Asa nearly missed this quietly spoken admission.
“And you were responsible for your sister, weren’t you? You were trying to take care of her.”
“She’s the baby.” Colton swung back to look at Judith. “I pr
omised Mama I’d take care of her.” Colton’s voice cracked on Mama.
Judith inched closer to the boy and put her arm around him. “Of course you did. And that’s how it was with Mr. Brant. He was responsible for the men he commanded. Now I’m going to say something hard.” She paused, obviously waiting for his agreement.
Finally Colton nodded.
“How would you have felt if Lily hadn’t gotten better?”
Colton jerked up. “She got better!”
Judith laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Yes, because when you saw that she was getting sicker, you went for help. And God had already prepared us to help you.”
“He did?” Colton didn’t sound convinced.
“Yes, He did. Now think of Mr. Brant in a war where he was the one who had to give the orders.”
Colton stared at her for several heartbeats. “You mean he was responsible?”
“Yes, he was. So when he gave an order and some men died, how do you think he felt?”
Judith’s gentle voice nearly brought Asa to his knees. Dear Lord in Heaven, she understands. Better than I. He braced his shoulder against the rough logs, drawing in ragged breaths.
“He probably felt bad,” Colton admitted.
“Yes, he did. But it wasn’t his fault. He did what he had to do to win the battle. Bad things happen in war. I hope you never have to face one.”
Asa could agree with that one hundred percent.
“Now, Colton,” Judith said, “please go back into town and bring Lily home.”
Asa watched her pat the boy’s back, and then Colton hurried down the road.
Asa could not hold himself back. Somehow Judith’s words had freed him. He rushed to her, pulled her up from the bench and kissed her. Nothing like the way he’d kissed her on their wedding day. He had never kissed a woman like this, not even the fiancée who had proved false and, while he was at war, had married another man.
He held Judith tight and breathed in her sweet fragrance. He thrust his fingers into her hair, clasping her face to his. Finally, to draw breath, he ended the kisses but pressed her close. “Judith.”
