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Authors: Laura Abbot

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Before dwelling further on those thoughts, she clamped them off. Once she had actually believed her happiness lay with a man. Foolishness! True, Seth was nothing like the sergeant to whom she’d lost her heart, but no good could come of entertaining anything beyond their friendship.

Seth fidgeted beside her, tugging at his cuffs and staring alternately between the ceiling and the floor. If he was that uncomfortable, why did he continue to sit beside her? She had to say something to break the ice. “Perhaps you would like to dance with Sophie or Lily?”

“No, thanks.”

She couldn’t imagine what was going through his head. Just then her father appeared before her. “May I have this next dance with my lovely daughter?” Papa whisked her away, but over his shoulder she spied Seth, standing with his back turned, gazing out of one of the large courtroom windows.

* * *

Seth stared into the night, neither the moon nor the twinkling lights of the town below registering with him. He was in a fix. For one brief moment, dancing with Rose while Alf clapped his approval, he’d entertained a vision of the three of them as a family, but the happiness he’d experienced was fleeting. Rose didn’t think of him in that way. Her behavior made it obvious that they were friends...only. Women were puzzling. He’d thought he and Rose had drawn closer. Yet something held her back. Had he misread their relationship? Was it foolish to risk his heart when he had no assurance of a happy outcome? When the music died, the mayor climbed in front of the judge’s bench and called for attention. “Ladies and gentlemen, please gather around to honor the architects and builders who have made our courthouse a reality.”

Reluctantly, Seth moved to the fringe of the crowd, listening as the mayor expounded on the prodigious feats and financial generosity which had made the courthouse construction possible. Spontaneous applause broke out at several junctures and cries of “Hear, hear!” echoed throughout the room. Seth scanned the crowd. Squirming with delight, Mattie and Alf were with Lily and Caleb. Doc Kellogg stood close beside Bess Stanton, but much as Seth craned his neck, he could not spot Rose.

At the conclusion of the laudatory remarks, the mayor held up his hand. “Charlie Devane has asked to make an announcement. Come on up, Charlie.”

The dark-headed young man, blushing from being center stage, stood before them, his brown eyes twinkling. “As you know, I hail from New England, but you’ve made me welcome here. Cottonwood Falls has not only given me a home, but another priceless gift. I am proud to say that after speaking with Andrew Montgomery, Sophie has agreed to be my wife.” He drew Sophie to him. “We will marry in a few months after I finish a job at the college in Manhattan.”

Seth felt as if he had turned into a block of wood, incapable of either feeling or movement. He shouldn’t be surprised; indeed, he should be elated for his sister. Instead, a wave of loneliness inundated him. His sister, resplendent in an aquamarine gown, at this moment was no longer the tomboy of his youth, but a radiant young woman with eyes only for her betrothed. Congratulations rang throughout the room. Then unexpectedly, he felt a small, warm hand slip into his and give an encouraging squeeze. “Seth, dear.”

Where Rose had come from, he didn’t know, but she, of all people, understood how difficult this moment was for him. Perhaps fearing his reaction, it was no wonder Sophie hadn’t told him in advance. “You knew?”

“Lily told me earlier this evening. Sophie wanted to surprise everyone else.” She looked up at him, her eyes troubled. “Will you be all right?”

He shrugged. “I’ll have to be. How can I possibly begrudge my sister happiness? Devane is a good man, but it will be difficult to see her go.”

“Your friends and family will help fill the void.”

He stared down into her trusting blue eyes. “Are you my friend?”

“Always,” she replied.

The moment was broken by yet another announcement. “To conclude this evening,” the mayor called out, “please give your attention to Mrs. Lavinia Dupree.”

Rose grasped Seth’s hand. “What in the world?” she said, turning her attention to the judge’s bench where her aunt was being escorted like a queen by the perspiring mayor.

Lavinia drew herself up and then studied the assemblage until, amid shushes, they quieted. “Good evening.” Her voice rang out clear and commanding. “As you know, my home is in St. Louis, and I have experienced all the advantages a cosmopolitan city can afford its residents. So you may wonder what brought me to Cottonwood Falls. Family, of course. But what keeps me here beyond those bonds? I will tell you. The cooperative spirit of this community, which has now taken tangible form in this splendid courthouse. And now,” Lavinia’s voice soared, “I want to express my appreciation to you by making a sizeable donation toward the building of a library. My nieces will tell you I am not much of a reader, but I see great value in providing a place of learning for others, both now and in the years to come.”

A buzz circulated through the crowd and Willa Stone rushed to Lavinia’s side. “Mrs. Dupree, we are flabbergasted and delighted. Your generosity will indeed provide a worthy legacy.” At her signal everyone joined in enthusiastic applause.

“One more thing,” Lavinia said when the clapping died away. “I intend to invest not only my money to the betterment of this county, but also my energy and presence. I have purchased land in the area, and with young Mr. Devane’s able assistance, am building a summer home here in Kansas.”

Seth’s hand tightened on Rose’s. “Are you all right?”

She leaned against him. “I’m undone. In her generosity and openness, I see so much of my mother in Aunt Lavinia. Either she has changed or I’ve misjudged her.”

“It’s you and Alf, Lily, Caleb and Mattie—all of you. She loves you very much.”

“I see that now, and I’m delighted she feels comfortable and welcome here.”

“The people of Chase County are special.”

“And you are one of them,” she whispered before she started toward her aunt.

He watched her dodge around their neighbors to reach and embrace Lavinia Dupree.
Special.
He shook his head. Whatever that meant. Then he dutifully embarked on the errand of congratulating Sophie and Charlie.

Chapter Fifteen

T
he evening after the ball Ezra and Rose invited Lavinia to dinner, eager to hear more about her surprising announcement. Rose carefully removed her mother’s good china from the cupboard and arranged the table just so, complete with a centerpiece of pumpkins and brightly colored gourds. A roast surrounded by onions, potatoes and carrots simmered in the Dutch oven and a Sally Lunn cake was cooling on the sideboard. Surveying the situation, she hoped she had not overlooked anything. She so wanted to approach Aunt Lavinia’s exacting standards.

“Something smells mighty good,” her father said, walking in the door. “I was afraid I’d be late. Jake Witherspoon’s mule kicked him and broke his leg.” Glancing at the set table, he hung his hat on the peg. “I’ll go wash up before Lavinia gets here.”

Alf grabbed Rose’s hand. “Come. Watch for ’Vinia with me.” Passing by the hall mirror, Rose checked her reflection. Even though she sometimes still felt inadequate around her aunt, Lavinia seemed to be warming to her. Not only that, Lavinia’s interactions with Alf had gone a long way to soften Rose’s opinion.

Alf straddled the porch rail, cowboy-style. “Know what, Rose? ’Vinia said when I’m a big boy, she’ll buy me a pony.”

“But for now you have the horse Seth made you.”

“Yeah, Spot. He’s a good horse, but—” the boy leaned toward Rose and spoke confidentially “—he’s not real, you know.”

Reflecting on the attention both Seth and Lavinia lavished on the boy, Rose smiled. So many wanted to make up to him for the tragedy of his mother’s death. Pray God the court would favor her adoption petition.

Papa joined them. “Looks as if we’re ready. If I know my sister-in-law, she’ll make a grand entrance. Before she gets here, though, you need to know I saw David Yarnell today.”

At the mention of the lawyer’s name, Rose held her breath. “And?”

“Your hearing is on the docket for this coming Friday.” He reached over and patted her hand. “Come what may, you’ll have an answer soon.”

“I don’t know if I can survive the uncertainty till then.”

“Be thankful. The hearing could have been in weeks, not mere days.”

She watched Alf, caught up in the pretense that the porch rail was a mighty steed. For him, she could endure anything.

“’Vinia! I spy ’Vinia!”

Sure enough, Lavinia was drawing up in her buggy, driven by the hired man she’d recently engaged. She emerged, a fur stole over her black bombazine dress. When Ezra went to the buggy to escort her up the walk, he was nearly bowled over by Alf who beat him to her side and grabbed Lavinia’s hand. “Rose made roast beef. Come eat with me.”

Preoccupied by Papa’s news, Rose had difficulty following the dinner conversation until Seth’s name popped up. “Seth?”

“Yes, dear, that young man was kind enough to give me a tour of the territory and point out the business potential of the Flint Hills. My husband rarely included me in his dealings, but I’m discovering I have a head for finances. When Lily was in St. Louis, she showed me that women are capable of being decision makers, and that is exactly what I intend to be.”

“We’re happy for you and will look forward to your upcoming ventures,” Ezra said, wiping his mouth with his linen napkin.

“I’m particularly excited about the house I’m building.”

“House?” Alf said. “Building like blocks?”

“Exactly. That fine Charlie Devane has helped me design a home made of your native limestone. It’s tucked against a hill with a glorious southeastern exposure.”

“It sounds lovely.”

“And, Rose, I need your help.”

“Mine?” Rose couldn’t imagine what expertise she would have to offer.

“Who is the best cook in the county? You, my dear. Of course, I will engage my own cook in my new home, but I want an efficient, modern kitchen design. So...sometime soon I want you to accompany me to the building site to make suggestions. Will you help?”

“I’ll enjoy the challenge.”

Papa smiled from one woman to the next. “That’s settled, then. Now all we need is to get the matter of our young man concluded.”

Lavinia’s eyebrows arched inquisitively. “What matter, Ezra?”

He lowered his voice, “Rose’s court hearing. Friday next.”

“What’s a
court?

Not for the first time, Rose reflected on the truth of little pitchers having big ears. “Alf, it’s what happens in the beautiful building with the clock tower. Grown-up business.”

“How are you feeling about the prospect, Rose?”

“Oh, Aunt Lavinia, I’m both eager for it to come about and, at the same time, terrified. What if—” Rose found she couldn’t finish the thought.

“Nonsense. You will not be alone in that courtroom. I will personally rally the family and the women of the Library Society as character witnesses. There is no question what justice demands in this case. Don’t fret, my dear niece. All will be well.”

All will be well. All manner of things shall be well.
Rose smiled by way of thanks. In an odd way it was fitting to hear Lavinia mouth the same comforting words Rose had heard so often from her own mother. She studied Alf, his little hands now moving excitedly as he described for her aunt the kind of pony he would prefer. Rose knew she had done what she could for the boy. The rest lay with God.

* * *

The Friday morning of Rose’s two o’clock hearing at the courthouse, rain beat incessantly against the kitchen windows and strewed the yard with dead leaves. Alf, oblivious to the high drama about to occur on his behalf, played happily in the parlor with the set of tin soldiers Lavinia had ordered him from New York. Papa had left to call on two ailing patients, leaving Rose incapable of doing anything, but pacing the floor and praying.

In a few short hours her future would either be ruined or made whole. She marched off to the kitchen to make bread. At least sifting and kneading might calm her runaway nerves.

Bess arrived at one o’clock, shaking raindrops off her umbrella. “It’s still pouring out there and now the wind is coming up.” She held her hands out to the stove. “How are you?”

Rose sighed. “Beside myself. I haven’t been able to sleep or eat much lately. Bess, I simply can’t imagine my life without Alf.”

Bess turned and embraced her friend. “Oh, child, any judge with eyes in his head will see the bond you have with the boy. Does Alf understand what is happening this afternoon?”

“Papa and I tried to prepare him. We told him this was a formality so that perhaps he could be my son forever and ever.”

“What did he say to that?”

“He broke my heart. He said since his E-nah was dead, he needed a mother and asked if after the hearing, he could call me Mama.”

“He’s a dear child, and you and your family are to be commended for the sensitive way you’ve helped him recover from the horror of his mother’s death.”

Rose offered Bess a cup of tea, and then the two sat drinking in a silence for which Rose was grateful. The time for platitudes or reassurance was long past. After a few minutes, Ezra burst through the door, leaving at his feet a puddle. “Noah had nothing on us. Much more of this and I’m commissioning an ark.”

Rose hurried to the stove to get her father some hot tea. “Here, sit and join us.”

“Alf?”

“He’s playing in the parlor. I pray nothing happens to threaten his well-being.”

“Buck up, dear. It will all be over soon.”

Then, before she knew it, she was climbing into her father’s buggy next to Bess, with Alf perched on her lap. She wished the rat-a-tat of the rain on the roof didn’t sound quite so much like nails in a coffin.

To her surprise, the courthouse was full of onlookers, most of them familiar—folks from church, patients of her father’s, ladies from the Library Society and others she didn’t recognize. Aunt Lavinia, with Hannah at her side, had established her territory in the first row and with a wave of her hand, summoned them forward to join her. “What are all these people doing here?” Rose whispered to her father.

Ezra leaned in close. “Supporting you mainly, although I suppose for some, there’s an element of curiosity.”

Rose gathered Alf close, sat down and looked around. No longer was this space a colorful, festive ballroom. Now it seemed austere and forbidding.

“All rise. The Honorable Titus Cornett presiding.” A tall, rangy man with a shock of black hair and stern facial features entered in a black robe. From the first tap of his gavel until the sentencing of a thief, Rose could hardly focus for the heavy weight in her chest. Beside her, Alf yawned and fingered his agate. It was his nap time. Perhaps he could sleep through the proceedings.

Then as if time had accelerated beyond her notice, the bailiff called their case. Her lawyer approached the bench. “Your Honor, I am appearing on behalf of Miss Rose Kellogg of this city to ask the court to execute an order to give her legal custody of the minor Alf, full name unknown.”

The minute Alf heard his name, he roused and tugged Rose’s sleeve. “That’s me, Alf.”

“Yes, my love.”

Then Yarnell summarized Alf’s abandonment in the Kellogg barn, producing the original note left with him, the subsequent care Rose and her father had taken of the boy and finally, the circumstances of his having been taken back, presumably by his Indian mother.

The judge interrupted. “What of the boy’s natural parents?”

Yarnell paced before the judge, outlining the unfortunate and savage murder of the Pawnee woman. “The boy’s father signed the affidavit before you, attesting to the boy’s birth date and relinquishing all further legal claims to the child. With that act, we believe he has cleared any impediments to Miss Kellogg’s suit.”

Rose sagged in relief. She had known nothing of the affidavit until now.

The judge harrumphed, then muttered, “I suppose you have witnesses who can testify to Miss Kellogg’s fitness for motherhood.”

“I have, Your Honor.”

First Lily and then Bess took the stand to describe Alf’s living conditions and Rose’s loving care. The final witness was Pastor Dooley, who portrayed her as a faithful and prayerful churchgoer.

As the minister returned to his seat, he paused briefly to settle a calming hand on her shoulder. Rose was starting to breathe a bit easier. Her case had been made. Surely the judge would find in her favor.

Yarnell again approached the bench. “Your Honor, we ask that Miss Kellogg’s petition be granted forthwith.

It will end now, praise God.
Rose clutched the folds of her dress and waited for the Honorable Titus Cornett to fulfill her fondest wish.

“Before I pass judgment on this matter, are there others in the court who wish to be heard at this time?”

Others? What others?
An ominous silence, broken only by a distant clap of thunder, hung over the court. Then, just as Rose was sure the judge would proceed, a shrill voice erupted from a back row. “Your Honor, I rise to speak in response to your question and to object to Rose Kellogg’s petition.”

Rose buried her head in her father’s shoulder, her hopes fading. She would know that voice anywhere. Bertha Britten.

* * *

Lily’s restraining hand on his knee was all that kept Seth from bolting from his seat. He couldn’t believe the Britten woman. Everything had been proceeding smoothly, so smoothly, in fact, that he had been giving premature thanks to God for giving Rose custody of Alf. He should’ve learned not to count on anything. With an act of will, he turned his head to look at Bertha Britten, her holier-than-thou demeanor and grating voice setting his teeth on edge.

“It seems to me, Judge Cornett, that we, as a community must accept both physical and moral responsibility for this poor orphan. While Rose Kellogg may be a fine person, as others have testified, she lacks the single most important quality of Christian motherhood.”

The judge slouched back in his seat, fixing his eyes on the complainant. “Pray tell, Mrs...”

“Britten.” Bertha quivered with indignation.

“...Britten, what is this quality of which you speak?”

“Why, it should be obvious to anyone. I’m surprised it wasn’t to Pastor Dooley, but be that as it may, Rose Kellogg is not married, sir. A child needs to be brought up in a Christian home with both a mother and a father. I would submit this is especially true for a male child.”

A few spontaneous murmurs of agreement could be heard. Seth clenched his fists, longing to carry the woman bodily from the courtroom. How dare she so malign Rose, who had never done anything but love Alf?

Yarnell leaped to his feet and implored the judge, “Your Honor, what is relevant here is the nature of care this boy is receiving, not Miss Kellogg’s marital status.” He turned and pointed at Rose and Alf, huddled together under the onslaught of criticism. “See the evidence for yourself. The boy regards my client as his port in the storm, as the one person in the world upon whom he can count. Would the court sever that bond simply because Miss Kellogg has never married? How many children have been raised by maiden aunts or widowed grandmothers? I fail to see how this situation is any different.”

Bertha stood her ground. “There are many of us
lawfully
wed, childless persons who would gladly undertake the rearing of this boy, persons who could provide both a father and a mother in a Christian environment. Marriage and parenthood are sacred, Your Honor, and I defy the court to deem otherwise by handing this child over to Miss Kellogg. There. I’ve had my say.” With that, she abruptly sat down.

Beside him, Seth saw Lily wiping away a tear, and Caleb’s jaw was as clenched as if chewing rawhide. Seth couldn’t believe his own ears. The Brittens? Parents to Alf? Something had to be done. The judge leaned forward, folding his hands on top of the bench. An uncomfortable silence awaited his next words. Finally he spoke. “What is at stake here is Alf’s welfare and his future. It would be presumptuous to act hastily in this matter. I declare a twenty minute recess, after which time, I will render my decision.” With that, the judge swept toward his chambers.

Seth could see Lavinia, Ezra and Bess gathered around Rose, whose pale, stricken face leveled him like a powerful blow. Across the way, Bertha Britten sat beside her milquetoast of a husband, arms folded across her chest, her head held high, as if daring any present to fault her position. Pastor Dooley had removed himself and stood at a window, his head bowed as if in prayer. “I have to stand up,” Seth muttered to Lily, who was rooted to the spot in shock. Not presuming to intrude upon Rose’s family group, Seth pushed through the crowd and down the stairs. He needed air. Outside, racked with worry, he paced in the rain, now a gentle shower, wondering how Bertha Britten could so willfully jeopardize Rose’s chances. Such pettiness defied description.

BOOK: The Gift of a Child
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