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  “A tramp,” Mrs. Ashford pronounced, frowning. “Must have snuck up, snatched it and run. We get them this close to the river. Drifters following it north or south.”

  “I wish he’d just asked,” Judith said. “I’d never let anyone go away hungry.”

  “Well, one pie’s gone, but we still have one,” Asa said. “When do we eat, ma’am?”

  Judith shook her head at him but smiled at his teasing tone.

  “Yes, let’s not spoil our meal,” Emma said.

  The men came back into the cabin and settled around the table. Judith soon set out the dishes family-style. The dinner guests ate with gusto and offered many compliments. Judith ate and replied, but she still wondered. Who had taken the pie?

  *

  Two mornings later, Judith awakened with a plan. Yesterday, which was laundry day and the day after the pie had gone missing, someone had taken one of Asa’s shirts drying on her clothesline. Someone was not only hungry but also needed clothing. She thought of the verses in Matthew 25.

  “Come, ye blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world: For I was hungered, and ye gave me meat: I was thirsty, and ye gave me drink: I was a stranger, and ye took me in: Naked, and ye clothed me.”

  But how to do that? At home in Illinois, usually tramps had stopped at the door to ask. She didn’t think this person was going to do that. Then the plan had come to her. She needed to bait the hook and see who nabbed it. After breakfast, Asa had reminded her that he was helping out a neighbor with clearing more land and would be gone till lunch.

  Perfect. She didn’t want Asa to know what she was doing. Her plan sounded…childish, but it might work. She bid Asa goodbye and then baked two cinnamon cakes, set one on the windowsill where the pie had been and then slipped inside the springhouse, which gave her an excellent view of the window. The scent of cinnamon from the cake floated on the wind.

  At first, anticipation and a bit of apprehension kept Judith alert, but an hour passed with only squirrels on tree branches eyeing the prize on the sill. She began daydreaming, thinking of fabric she’d seen at the Ashfords’ store.

  Then she heard it—soft padding of feet and the brushing back of branches. She peered out the cracked-open springhouse door and saw them. She nearly gasped aloud.

  She glimpsed two children, a boy of around nine and a younger girl, who was wearing Asa’s shirt as a dress. The boy left the girl in the cover of the evergreens and approached the house with stealth.

  Judith sat very still, watching the boy reach up and take the cake and stuff it into a small cloth bag. Then he hurried back to the girl.

  Judith nearly leaped from her seat, but she counted to ten, then slipped outside, going after the children. She needed to find out where they were coming from. Did they have family? Fortunately, as a child, she and Emma had played Cowboys and Indians with their older brother, so she knew how to creep behind someone. The trees and wild shrubs concealed her. She followed the two more by sound than by sight.

  Finally the two stopped muting their voices and halted.

  Judith peered through the evergreen boughs and observed them devouring her cake. Behind them, the opening to what must be a cave explained where they lived.

  Two children living alone in a cave? Why? Where were their parents? Family?

  She sat very still, watching them as they sat on the bare ground, eating and then drinking from a natural spring that ran from the rock near the cave opening. They needed her assistance but they were hiding, not coming to her door to ask. Why not?

  Well, right now she must attempt to help them, regardless. She rose and stepped out of the cover of the forest. “Good day, children.”

  The two of them leaped up. The boy shoved the girl behind his back and picked up a large rock. “Don’t you come any closer!”

  She opened her hands and showed that she held no weapon. “I’m Mrs. Brant. What are your names?”

  “I’m Lily,” the girl said.

  “Nice to meet you, Lily.” Judith smiled but stayed where she was, letting them get used to her.

  “This is Colton—” Lily began.

  “Hush,” Colton said. “Lady, you go on home. Lily and I are doin’ fine.”

  She surveyed their matted hair, grimy hands and faces, clothes caked with mud, and thin arms and legs. Though unhappy at their plight, she still smiled and kept her voice gentle. “I’ve come to invite you to eat lunch with my husband and me.”

  “Lunch!” Lily jumped with obvious excitement. She hurried toward Judith.

  Colton tried to stop her, but the girl skirted him, went to Judith and took the hand she offered. “Do you cook good?”

  Judith was caught between amusement and sadness. Lily must have been only around six, so she still had a child’s trust, but Colton had lost his. Who had driven these children into the forest to fend for themselves like Hansel and Gretel?

  “Colton, I know you don’t know me well. But I am offering you a free meal. You can leave afterward. And I promise not to tell anybody but my husband about this place.” She didn’t want Colton to leave for fear of her.

  Colton studied her for a long time.

  She waited.

  Finally the boy put down the rock and walked toward her. “Okay. We’ll come, but we ain’t stayin’.”

  “I only invited you for lunch,” she replied. “I mean you no harm.”

  He snorted.

  Her heart ached for a boy trying to care for himself and a little sister. She longed to rattle off questions, but pressed her lips together. The two were like wild deer. She didn’t want to spook them. Then Asa came to mind.

  What would he say when he came home for lunch and, without warning, found two tattered urchins at his table? Now she realized that she should have discussed this with her husband. Would he object? With a deep sigh, she began praying for wisdom, for guidance, not only for her but also for Asa.

  Would he be displeased with her for acting on her own, for not minding her own business? The fact that her husband was still somewhat a stranger to her—and that he held her at arm’s length—kept her feeling insecure. Surely he wouldn’t send the children away, would he?

  Chapter Four

  Out of the forest, swishing through the ankle-deep just-greening wild grass, Judith led the children the last few feet into her clearing, praying that Asa, taken by surprise, would not say or do anything that would frighten them away. With regret, she again scolded herself that he wouldn’t if she’d prepared him for what she had planned. She prayed for Asa’s underlying goodness to shine out and be sensed by these children.

  Lily skipped along beside her, chattering away about Clara, her soiled, limp rag doll lying over her arm. “That’s my favorite name, Clara,” the little girl said.

  “That is a very pretty name, but so is Lily. I love lilies, especially tiger lilies.” Judith sensed Colton lagging behind. Glancing over her shoulder, she observed him studying the area as if looking for any possible danger. Or perhaps an escape route.

  “What’s a tiger lily?” the little girl asked.

  “It’s a yellow or orange lily that blooms in the summer. We may have some growing around here.” Judith sent the girl a happy smile that masked her growing misgivings. Mimicking in sound her tightening tension, a chickadee in a nearby tree called out, “Chickadee-dee-dee. Chickadee-dee-dee.”

  What would Asa say when he saw whom she’d invited for lunch? Her lungs tightened.

  As if he heard her thought, Asa stepped out of the barn and, when he saw them, halted.

  Colton halted.

  Lily halted.

  Judith clung to Lily’s hand and drew her forward. “I’m so happy you accepted my invitation to have lunch,” she said a bit louder than usual. “Hello, Asa! This is Lily and her brother, Colton. Children, this is my husband, Asa Brant.”

  Asa sized up their guests, his expression unreadable. “Hello, children.”

  He studied Judith as if asking a
question and awaiting the answer. And she mouthed, “Pie. Shirt.”

  After studying the little girl’s makeshift dress, his shirt, he nodded slowly. He inhaled. “What’s for lunch?”

  Judith thanked him with a smile. He was going along with her plan without asking questions. “I made salt pork and beans and some brown bread. And—” she hoped this would help lagging Colton come the last few feet to their door “—I baked cinnamon—”

  “Cake!” Lily crowed. “It’s good.” With these words she revealed that they’d already sampled one.

  “Better wash up,” Asa said. He walked over to the outdoor pitcher and basin and began to soap his hands.

  Lily let go of Judith’s hand and ran to stand beside Asa. “I know how to wash my hands all by myself.”

  “Good.” Asa handed her the bar of soap. He glanced over his shoulder. “Boy?”

  Colton caught up with Judith but did not approach Asa. He waited till he and Lily were done. When Asa stepped away from the basin and went to pump more water into the pitcher, Colton washed his hands, but stuck close to Judith, still watchful of his sister. That told Judith much. They did not deem her a threat, but the man of the house might be.

  Soon the four of them with clean hands sat at the table, the children side by side on a bench, which was usually tucked away against the wall. Asa offered his customary brief grace, and then Judith began to dish up bowls of the beans, fragrant with molasses, and thick slices of bread. The contrast between the children’s clean hands and their grimy faces and matted hair caused Judith to itch to give both children a good scrubbing, brushing and combing.

  “Can I have butter on my bread?” Lily asked.

  “You may if you say please,” Judith replied automatically.

  “Please, can I have butter on my bread?” Lily asked.

  Judith buttered a slice thickly and set it on the girl’s plate.

  “What do you say?” Asa prompted, sounding stern.

  “Thank you,” Lily said, then bit into her bread. “Mmm.”

  Grateful for the way Asa had gone along with this unexpected turn of events, Judith still worried. How could they keep the children here? Would Asa want that? What did the town do with orphans here? But were they orphans or runaways? How had these two little ones ended up on their own in a cave?

  She chewed mechanically, trying to come up with what to do. The children ate as if starved. The pork and beans disappeared. Soon she was setting a second cake on the table, the first having served as successful bait.

  Asa ate his portion and then looked at Colton. “Think you know something about a pie that disappeared from our windowsill?”

  Colton jerked up from the bench.

  Why had Asa said this? Not knowing and not wanting to contradict him, Judith held her breath. Would the children bolt?

  “Sit back down,” Asa said. “I’m not going to turn you over to the sheriff.”

  Judith stilled. She did not know what Asa was doing so she had no way of countering it, softening it.

  Colton stayed standing, wary.

  “We took the pie,” Lily said. “We were really hungry, and Colton’s trap didn’t catch anything. Sorry.” The girl bowed her head and set a forkful of cake back on her plate.

  Asa looked to the brother. “That what happened, boy?”

  “Yes, sir,” Colton said, facing Asa squarely.

  “Then I have a few chores you can do to work off what you owe me…us.”

  At first Judith had to swallow a protest, and then she saw the wisdom of this. Or thought she did.

  “What kind of chores?” Colton asked.

  “I’m sharpening the blade of my plow. You could oil my plow harness.” Asa glanced toward Judith. “You have something Lily can help with?”

  “Yes. She can dry the dishes and help me dust,” Judith improvised.

  “I can do that,” Lily said, sounding happy that the chores were not beyond her abilities.

  Asa looked to Judith, communicating something she couldn’t decipher. “Then we have a deal.” He rose from the table. “Children, thank Mrs. Brant for lunch. Good meal, ma’am,” he said, which was his usual end-of-meal phrase.

  The little girl consumed the rest of her cake in two bites. “Good meal, ma’am,” Lily parroted.

  Colton sat back down, finished drinking his glass of milk and ate the last bit of cake. “Thank you for the good lunch, Mrs. Brant.” He stood again. “Where’s that harness?”

  “Where is that harness, sir?” Asa prompted.

  Colton glared, his lower lip protruding. But he repeated the sentence, though with a surly edge.

  Judith held her breath. Had Asa gone too far? Would he push the children to run?

  Instead, Colton followed Asa outside. Lily drained her glass and popped up. “I can help.”

  Judith rose and carried most of the dishes to the dry sink and counter. Lily followed her like a shadow and watched her intently. “I like your house,” the little girl said.

  “Thank you. I do, too.”

  The two of them chatted. Lily seemed happy to contribute her part, but she avoided all questions about her family. Once the little girl looked about to cry, so Judith returned the conversation to something light and easy.

  The afternoon was far along when Colton appeared at the open cabin door. “You done with your chores, Lily?”

  Lily looked up at Judith, her expression begging her to say no.

  But the chores were done. “Yes, but won’t you stay—”

  “We gotta go,” Colton insisted. He waved insistently at his little sister. “Come on.”

  Lily left Judith’s side and went to her brother. Just before they left, she turned. “Thanks…thanks.”

  Colton took his sister’s hand, and the two of them headed back to the forest.

  Judith stepped outside and watched them go. Would they return to the cave or would they move on, afraid of…what? Who had made them afraid? Her heart hurt for them.

  Asa remained in the barn.

  Judith rarely ventured there, sensing that her new husband liked his privacy. Being married to a stranger who wouldn’t reveal anything about his past or thoughts often became awkward. The barn was his haven, hers the kitchen. But now she entered the barn, her emotions a storm.

  Asa stood near his upturned plow in the shadowy interior that smelled like a clean barn should, earthy with the distinctive scent of horses and cows. Everything in the barn reflected Asa’s desire for neatness and order. The walls were adorned with pegs that sported all manner of tools and horse paraphernalia. She paused in the doorway, looking at him. She tried to come up with a way to introduce the subject of the children and what to do about them. Two children that young would not thrive living in a cave. And though spring and summer were ahead, winter would come again. Her husband did not like to talk, but they must discuss this. The children had come to their window. God had brought Colton and Lily to them. She cleared her throat and prayed for inspiration.

  *

  Hearing her come in, Asa, sitting at his small, slender work table, gazed at Judith, seeing her silhouette outlined in sunshine. Already knowing her tender heart, he shouldn’t have been surprised at her showing up with two ragamuffins. “Where’d you find them?” he asked.

  She filled him in on the cake trap she’d set to catch the pie-and-shirt thief.

  Fear for her, and anger, ricocheted through him. He stood. “You did that without telling me?” he snapped. “What if it hadn’t been children but a man…a tramp? Someone who might have hurt you.” He closed the distance between them.

  “I don’t know why I didn’t tell you.” She lifted her hands in a helpless motion. “I guess I’m used to taking care of things myself. Father hasn’t been strong for a long time. My brother was gone to war. I’m the oldest.”

  He drew a few deep breaths, calming himself.

  “If a man had come, I would have stayed in the springhouse.” She looked up at him—and burst into tears.

 
He didn’t know what to do. “I didn’t mean to make you cry—”

  “You didn’t.” She wept on, waving her hand toward the open door. “They are living in a cave. What are we going to do? Colton can’t be even ten. He can’t take care of Lily all by himself.” She covered her face with both hands. Her weeping intensified.

  Her freely expressed emotions pointed out his own hollowed-out aching within. No doubt she’d never before seen ragged, grimy children begging. But he had. Urchins—both white and black—had come into camp begging even for hardtack, the worst food ever.

  He closed his eyes, trying to block out the memories. Then he looked at his wife. What did one do with a weeping woman? He recalled the few times he’d seen his mother cry and how his father had handled it.

  Uncertain, he put an arm around her and patted her back, mimicking his father’s words. “There, there.”

  It worked.

  She stepped closer and rested her head against his chest, quieting. The fragrance she always wore, which reminded him of lilacs, floated up from her hair. He nearly bent and kissed the top of her head. But he held himself in check. His father had never kissed his mother when comforting her. And Asa and Judith were married but not close…his fault.

  “Asa, what are we going to do? We can’t let two little children continue to live in a cave in the woods.”

  She spoke the truth. In the past he could give only what he had in his knapsack to the orphans of the war, but now he had a house and food to share. Yet he didn’t know what to say, so he patted her shoulder some more.

  “You were very wise about the pie and chores,” she said, glancing up.

  I was? he thought.

  “I could see Colton understood that. When I invited them to lunch, he didn’t want to come, but Lily came right along. Someone, some man, has mistreated him. You noticed that, too?”

  Asa considered this. “You’re right. He came with me but kept his distance, always out of arm’s reach. And we’re assuming that they are orphans, but they might have run away.”

  Judith pressed her face into his shirt again. Then straightened. “I hate to think that, but yes, some parents or guardians can be ill-tempered.”