After dragging the dining chairs in place, he rushed to set the table as the youngsters fought over who sat next to whom. Jack quieted the fuss by saying over them, “No need to argue about where you sit. We can change seats from one meal to the next.”
The boys started shoveling food onto their plates. Charlotte did, too, he noticed, but a little more mannerly than her brothers. Jack tried to hide a smile and glanced over at Alice. She returned his grin with one of her own. He paused for a brief second before settling into his chair. The young woman’s amusement contrasted so much with Ellie’s unhappiness in the past several months.
Jack snuck another peek at her and caught the rosy glow of her cheeks in the soft light. She glanced over again at him again as the twins argued. His face burned at her knowing expression. He straightened in his chair and refocused on his dinner. Any man would stare. Especially if a pretty gal like Alice sat beside him at the table.
“Mr. Dryden? Are you not hungry?” Charlotte asked. “I can cook something else if you’d rather.”
He nodded at Charlotte, grateful to have his attention turned somewhere else. A weathervane stayed steadier in a thunderstorm than his thoughts did around her. He reached for what was left of the scrambled eggs. “These are perfect; keep on eating your dinner.” Jack dropped the scoop onto his plate and didn’t let the bacon leave his hand before taking a bite.
Alice added, “I agree. You’ve outdone anyone else’s food I’ve ever tried.”
Charlotte smiled down at her plate. “I just fixed them the way Sister Brigit taught me, us. That’s all. I’m sure farm girls cook eggs out here all the time.”
“I suppose they do, but still.” Alice held up a forkful. “You’ll be an excellent blend of town and country by the time you’re grown.”
Jack pushed his empty plate forward. He’d have plenty of time to learn more about the girl he wanted to be his daughter. Alice, on the other hand, would be gone in less than a week. Against his better judgement, he wanted to know more about her before she left. “What about you? Are you a farm or city girl?”
“City. New York, to be exact,” she replied while clearing the table. “I never stepped foot outside of the state until earlier this year.” Alice gave the younger girl their dishes.
“We’re from the same place,” Carter said, and Conner nodded. “But our mother and father wasn’t.”
“Weren’t,” Charlotte corrected on her way to the wood stove.
“Yeah, they wasn’t.”
Jack nodded, trying to hide a grin lest they thought he was laughing at them. The boys had wolfed down their food without talking. Charlotte did the same, only with far more manners. And Alice? He’d noticed she took small bites as if to make the meal last longer, or to maybe savor every crumb. Either way, Jack found her interesting.
The four of them looked bone-tired and he stood. “I usually wash up before breakfast. Set the frying pan out back and the possums will clean it up for us by the morning.”
First one boy, then the other began laughing until Conner said, “’Possums don’t do dishes.”
“They do out here, cleaning up with a couple of licks or two.” Jack winked at the boys and nodded toward the disgust on the ladies’ faces. “I might be joshing you all, too.”
Charlotte sighed. “Oh, thank goodness. If ‘possum spit was a normal occurrence, I’d be going home with Miss Alice.”
Jack shook his head, chuckling. “No, I don’t employ any critters to do my clean-up. It’s just me and… um, me.” He glanced at Alice as she went to the back door and said to the others, “I’d rather have your help in dishwashing than any ol’ varmint’s.”
“I can lick plates just fine,” Carter offered.
Charlotte gave the table a final wipe as Conner put the last chair in place. “He can, but I’d rather use your washtub.” When Jack chuckled, she sighed. “I’m glad no one around here has to clean anything with his tongue. Yuck.”
“I agree,” Alice said as she stepped up and made shooing motions toward the three of them. “Come on, time for bed.” She led them toward the bedrooms. “Do you need help with your prayers tonight?”
The children shook their heads, adding a mumbled “No, ma’am,” as they followed her.
He looked around the cabin with fresh eyes, seeing the place from his guests’ point of view. Nice house, could use some cleaning in the corners. Not a bad home and had a solid floor. He smiled at the memory of walking into the finished home for the first time. Fresh new wood, curtains ready for windows, and only one bedroom for him and Ellie.
“I hope you don’t mind.”
He turned in the chair to find Alice with journal in hand. Jack had been lost in his own thoughts and guessed she wanted to sit with him. He hoped so, anyway. “No, not at all.” As she settled in, he asked, “Do you need a pen and ink?” He stood. “I have both handy.”
She smiled. “Thank you for the offer, but no. I have a pencil.”
“They make things easier, don’t they?” He went to the cupboard. “We, or I, tend to use ink exclusively, but like being able to erase my mistakes instead of starting over with a fresh sheet of paper.”
She watched as he placed the inkwell, pen, and farm journal on the table. As he sat down again, Alice said, “Now that you mention it, a fresh start with anything sounds lovely.”
Despite the temptation to do so, he didn’t glance at her writing. He kept his eyes on his own work to respect her privacy and said, “I’d agree with you on most things in life, but the same document several times? I don’t need so much penmanship practice, ever.”
Alice laughed before putting a hand over her mouth. “Goodness! Now I’m glad I use a pencil most of the time. Not that I never use ink. I do, when the occasion calls for it.”
“Legal papers,” he offered, the divorce nudging at the edge of his mind. The pull he felt toward her surged stronger. With the Hayses becoming his children, she might have a reason to visit while on her way to placing other orphans. “Those and bank papers if need be.” He smiled. “Everything else is pencil so I can make corrections.”
Alice chuckled, returning his smile. “Exactly. I never use pencil on adoption papers.”
She’d opened the door for him and he wanted to jump through with both feet. Setting his pen down, he asked, “About that. How likely is it you’ll need my pen for the Hays children’s adoption?”
Chapter Six
Jack wanted to reach out and grab the words before they reached her ears. More so when she frowned. After a couple of seconds, Alice cleared her throat while slowly closing her journal with the pencil inside to mark the place.
“I can’t make a solid promise but do think there’s a very good chance they’ll be placed with you.” She stared at the lantern in the middle of the table with her hands folded in her lap. “I must be frank. Having Mrs. Dryden here would have helped your case, of course.”
He’d known better than to ask outright and so soon. Unable to help himself, he asked, “There’s nothing more I could do?”
“Not at the moment.” She looked up at him, tilting her head. “You seem to have provided a more than adequate home with plenty of opportunities for them to gain real skills and schooling. Provided I get good references from the committee despite your lack of a wife, I’d say there a possibility you’ll run out of signing ink soon.”
Her words gave his heart permission to do more than hope and Jack grinned. He’d take any chance he could get no matter how slim. “Great. I’m glad to hear it.” He stared unseeing at his farm accounts. The instant family meant he’d be able to keep the homestead and provide a good life for the children. All the plans he’d dreamed back when starting the process now seemed a lot more possible and he sighed in relief. “I’ve been a lot more worried than I thought I’d be, I guess.”
“Most people are. Even those with finalized adoptions somehow can’t believe their good luck. I receive thank-you letters quite often in this work.”
He glance
d at Alice to find her looking at him with a slight smile. “I reckon you do.” Her cheeks flushed, and she lowered her chin. He leaned forward, resting an elbow on the table. “What happens after you leave the children with me?”
She bit her lip for a second before replying, “After our orphans are placed, someone will do welfare checks on them. Routine, and merely for everyone’s benefit.”
“Of course.” He grinned at her coming back to Liberty on a regular basis. Before he could change his mind, Jack asked, “How long will your visits here be? Should I build another bedroom for you just in case you need to stay for a while? I don’t mind.”
Alice’s jaw dropped for a moment. “I, uh, no.” She shook her head. “No need to trouble yourself, Mr. Dryden.” She shook her head. “Truly. Any visits will be brief and most likely not done by me.”
Her face glowed dusky pink in the lamplight. Her embarrassment, while adorable, seemed odd to Jack. If he worked at the Home, he’d have to follow up just to satisfy his curiosity. “And you’ve never considered stopping by on a train trip further west to visit any of the families you’ve approved?”
Clearing her throat, she reached for her book and held it up against her chest like a shield. “Oh, you mean for a brief—, well, I’ve never had the opportunity although I’ve written several letters to the older children. The ones who could read. Because they could. So, I did.” Alice took a deep breath. “I mean, I’ve never had my own bedroom and wouldn’t know what to do with so much space.”
He smiled at her fluster. The color never faded from her face, reminding him of how much younger she must be than he was. “Then I’ll be sure to build you a room of your own. If you could come visit and stay here for more than a day or two, I’d like to be prepared.”
Her eyes met his, deep blue in the lamplight. “You’re kind, but there’s no need to do anything of the sort. The Home will make hotel provisions for all of its agents, no matter who visits you.”
“I had hoped you’d be our only agent,” he said, his voice huskier than he expected it to be.
Her eyebrows rose and a slight smiled played about her lips. “I see. Well, we have many people in our organization who place orphans. I’m not the only one and can’t visit every family. You might be disappointed.”
“Yeah, you’re right. I meant the agent. Ours. All of us,” Jack stammered. In a desperate bid to change the subject from her being exclusive to his new family, he cleared his throat and asked, “Miss Wedgwood, do you have more children to escort soon after this adoption?”
She relaxed, placing her journal on the table. “Yes. There are many more babies and youngsters who need good homes. I’ll need to hurry back to the Home and help with the next group.”
He missed her already and they’d only met a few hours ago. Wanting to learn more about Alice in the short time they had left, Jack wanted to find a reason for her to stop in Liberty again in the near future. Ignoring their fatigue he pressed on, asking her, “How many trips west have you been on so far?”
Alice focused on her book, opening it to the place held by her pencil. “One this far, but several more back east.”
Jack fidgeted in his chair, the rope seat squeaking against the wood frame. He had to know if she enjoyed traveling west, maybe planned on living here one day. “Did you want to venture farther, or were the Hayses an exception?”
“I’d like to, maybe. When the Home mentioned this placement, I volunteered to be the caretaker because of the location.” Alice wrote the month and year in her book before glancing up at him with a smile. “A sister came to our orphanage when I was ten or eleven, telling us all about her life in the wilderness.” Her words slow at first as she turned back to her journal, she said, “Sister… I can’t even remember her name now, had lost her family, too, and decided to help others from then on. After that, the west had always seemed like a place where kind people lived.” She gave him a quick glance before retracing the date. “I’d always wanted to see for myself.”
Alice’s dream registered in his mind, but her lack of anyone in the world except the nuns stuck the most. He’d left his extended family with the certainty they’d always be there if he wanted to return or send for them. “You have no family at all?”
She drew a square below the date on her page, not looking up at him. “No. My mother left me with the nuns when I was a baby. Nothing but my name on a scrap of paper.” She shook her head. “I don’t remember her or my father.”
Her words embedded themselves into his heart as if hammer-driven. To be so alone with no kin seemed impossible to Jack. No wonder she seemed reluctant to talk about herself. “I’m sorry.”
“Thank you. It happened, and I survived.” Alice looked up at him with a strained smile. “Now I help other children. Simple as that.”
Watching her draw small houses out of the squares she’d made under the date, he smiled. Did she plan on sketching a full scene instead of writing anything? Jack wanted to give her a bigger piece of paper and plenty of pencils. So, Alice was kind-hearted as well as artistic. He wondered if the Home would be her life’s work and if she ever planned on following a calling. Before thinking, he asked, “Do you plan on becoming a sister, too?”
“Maybe.” Alice glanced at him, a blush creeping across her face. “Probably not, since I’ve heard from every one of them that it’s a passion to a higher purpose.” She began doodling opposite from the dated page. “I haven’t felt the need, myself, so I assist in other ways.”
He watched, fascinated, as a tree took shape on the paper. Jack couldn’t look away from the landscape began unfolding under her pencil. “One of my cousins who is a minister says the same is true for him. He and his wife both believe no other way of life is for them.”
She smiled, not pausing in her sketch. “Do they live here in Missouri?”
“No, back in Kentucky.” He hesitated a second before adding, “Ellie and I came west after the war, wanting a fresh start to our new lives.” Somehow, bringing his absent and soon to be former wife into the conversation seemed wrong to Jack. He wanted to focus on Alice for as long as she was here.
“Pardon my saying so, but you don’t seem old enough to have fought in the war. Not even as a boy lying about his age.”
He chuckled, glad to have avoided the whole Ellie topic. Maybe his ego was a little pleased Alice considered him younger than his father, too. Unless she happened to like older men, and then he was… Jack shook himself. None of that mattered until he signed the divorce and he replied, “Thank you. I’m not at all. We came here in ’74.”
“That’s a long time after the war. Did any of your slaves stay despite emancipation?”
He stifled a sigh. It seemed every big-city Northerner thought every small-town Southerner had slaves. “We didn’t own anyone and the war’s effects never seemed to end. The Dryden farm was a small patch of land my brother was going to work after he returned from the army.” Jack gave a slight smile as she sketched the Liberty train depot next to her tree. There really wasn’t a tree nearby, but he liked the idea of a shady place for passengers to rest so much he couldn’t correct her. “Our family couldn’t afford much, including purchasing another person, so we did everything ourselves.”
Alice gave him an intense stare. “You left nearly a decade after the war ended. Would your brother not share the land with you?”
Jack straightened in his chair, unwilling to talk about the events in anything but a matter-of-fact way. To do anything else hurt too much to bear. “He would have, but he didn’t return from the battlefield.” He ran a hand through his hair, wanting to be unaffected, but not sure how to be. “First my mother grew sick and died, then my father. I tried to keep the place going but the property taxes and new fees ate up everything. I had to sell.”
“Hmm.” Alice interlaced her fingers, staring into the lamplight. “I don’t suppose Mrs. Dryden is waiting for you there, then.”
He scratched the back of his neck. “No. She’s not waiting anywh
ere but at her parents’ home in Boston.” Jack looked over at Alice to find her staring at him, curiosity clearly etched on her face. “I’d made a mistake marrying a Yankee from Massachusetts, I suppose. She was, is, pretty, kind, and well to do.”
“So why did she marry me and come out west, you ask?” Jack stood and went to the high shelf above the stove. He retrieved a small flask of whiskey, half full, and a small glass next to it. He blew out the dust and went to his chair. “Right now, I don’t have an answer for you because she’s not here to tell me why, either.”
He poured a finger’s width of liquor into the glass. “Ellie loved me, I suppose, and the homestead was our grand adventure together. I’d warned her before we left Kentucky about how all this would take work and she agreed to everything.” he asked, lifting the bottle. “Want to share?”
She waved her hand while closing her journal. “No. I’ve promised to never touch a drop. The nuns discouraged me from becoming too western and wild out here.”
“Mighty wise of them.” Jack chuckled at the description, her concerned expression and kind eyes warming his heart. He wanted to ask if the frontier’s reputation was the reason for her visit more than the kindness of strangers. He figured he knew which answer she’d give but decided to let the matter sleep for a while.
At some point, he supposed, a man would want more than sympathy from such a lovely young lady. But right now, Jack was fine with what he could have from her. “I reckon a woman can’t be too careful.” He drank the whiskey in one gulp, the burning trail the liquid left matching the ache in his heart. “A bottle a year and the rare drink at the saloon are about as wild as I get.”
She gave him a wry smile. “Everyone needs a little vice in their lives or there’d be nothing for Father O’Brien to listen to during confessional. Speaking of doing things we’ll later regret,” Alice picked up her journal and said, “it’s late and you’ve given me a lot to think about concerning the Hays children’s futures here.”
Last Train Home (The American West Series Book 1) Page 4
