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  Asa almost lost himself looking into her eyes, which shone with tears of concern.

  “I think the offer of payment by chores reassured him that you—we—weren’t trying to pull something over on him.” She looked at Asa, obviously asking for a reply.

  “It worked.” Those were the only words that came to him.

  She nodded. And then sighed and wiped her cheeks with her handkerchief. “I’m sorry to break down like that. I just was so shocked to see children living there. And on top of that, I’m worried that I still haven’t heard from home. We sent that letter weeks ago.”

  Judith began twisting the hankie in both hands. “Emma wrote Father, too. No reply.”

  Asa shifted from foot to foot. He didn’t like talking about family. “What do you think is keeping him from answering?”

  She mangled the lacy scrap of linen some more.

  “You can tell me, Judith.” His words mocked him. He expected her to trust him, but he didn’t want to trust her. Bile rose in his throat.

  She moved to sit at Asa’s work table. “My brother returned from the war with a bride from Kentucky.” She pursed her lips as if hesitant to say more.

  Asa said nothing. He couldn’t coax her to talk. It felt dishonest of him.

  “My sister-in-law, Mabel Joy, is a contentious woman. That’s all I’ll say.”

  “Maybe your father can’t write…” As soon as the words left his mouth, and he saw her stricken look, he knew he’d said exactly the wrong thing. Contrite, he patted her back again. “Might just be that men aren’t good at writing letters.”

  Again his own words slapped him. He had yet to write his own parents to tell them he’d married Judith. Guilt froze him in place. What kind of son didn’t even write his parents when he got married? Had his bride noticed that?

  Judith touched his sleeve. “You are probably right. Father was never one to write letters. And if Mabel Joy were a kind woman, she’d have written back or coaxed him into doing so.” She sighed.

  “Is there a neighbor you could write, or a relative?” Asa suggested.

  Judith’s eyes brightened. “Of course. Why didn’t I think of that?” She squeezed his hand. “Thank you, Asa. I’ll write to our neighbor, and I know she’ll write back and give me all the news.” She sent him a trembly smile. “So, what should we do about these children?”

  He could do nothing but say the truth. “Let’s both think on it.”

  She nodded. “A good idea.” She surprised him by standing on tiptoe and kissing his cheek. “Thank you, Asa.” Then, as if embarrassed, she hurried out with a wave of one hand.

  He stood still, savoring the quick peck on his cheek. With tiny hitching breaths, he was able to relax. It was good to have Judith here. Yet troubling. She caused him to feel his inner lack, his inability to react like a normal man. But so far he’d evidently not revealed his deficiency, his emptiness to her. So far, so good.

  *

  In the back of his mind, Asa recalled that he’d heard a husband and wife in the area had died over the winter and there had been children. So after listening to Judith repeat her worries about the children the previous evening, Asa decided he needed more reconnaissance before he took action. He’d go to the fount of all local news and information, Ned Ashford.

  So this morning after breakfast and chores, he entered the shadowy store. A few remaining strings of dried apples hung from the rafters and still faintly scented the air. Two women were just finishing up their purchases. He waited, looking over Ashford’s supply of ammunition.

  When the ladies left, jingling the bell on the door, Asa approached the storekeeper. “Morning.”

  “Morning. What can I do for you?”

  “Could use some more buckshot.” Asa knew he must not appear that he came just for information. He didn’t want Ashford too interested. These two waifs, probably orphans, had come to Asa’s door, and Judith would want to have a hand in deciding what should be done for them. So did he, for that matter. He’d been unable to help orphans in the war-ravaged South, but he could help two here.

  As the transaction proceeded, Asa asked in a nonchalant voice, “Didn’t I hear that a couple farther out died over winter?”

  Ashford looked up, alert. “Yes. Why do you ask?”

  Asa had come prepared. “My wife was wondering if anybody needed help with anything. She likes to be a good neighbor.”

  “You got yourself a good wife there,” Ashford said. “Everybody thinks so.”

  Asa did not like how this comment revealed that he and Judith were the topic of discussion locally, but he ignored this for now. “Do you know what happened to the couple?” Asa prompted Ashford.

  “Well, they were nice young people, name of Farrier, homesteading like you and your wife. We think it might have been pneumonia. Their neighbors, the Smiths, came to church—something they didn’t do often.” Ashford paused to frown at this. “Anyway, the Smiths said that their neighbors had died and before the ground froze deep, they’d buried them.

  “The Smiths asked Noah to come do a graveside service. He did. A few of us went along, a sad task. Noah looked at the Farriers’ family Bible and some letters from the Farriers’ place to find out if any kin wanted the children. He wrote. But he never heard back. And the Smiths had already taken in the two children, a boy and a girl.”

  A boy and a girl. Asa concealed his reaction to the news. This might explain two children without parents. He wished he’d taken more notice at the time. But the Farriers had been near strangers to him. “Smiths took them in?”

  “Yes, said that the Farriers and they were distant cousins, but—” Ashford paused “—if I recall correctly, the Farriers didn’t cotton to their neighbors and never said anything about being related.”

  “So the Smiths took in the children.” Asa repeated the information, mentally examining it.

  “Yes. Noah Whitmore visited again when the weather permitted. But the children had been taken in and were being cared for, so he merely discussed the matter and offered help. The Smiths turned him down. And that was that.”

  Asa nodded, paid for the buckshot. “Sad story.”

  “It’s a hard life on the frontier. You take care of that sweet wife of yours.”

  “Will do.” Nobody and nothing were going to get past him to Judith. And now he knew that Judith would make sure these children were taken care of for her peace of mind. And his own peace of mind, for that matter. The wary look in the boy’s eyes wouldn’t leave him alone, either. And hands down, he couldn’t ignore two children living in the wild alone.

  Out in the sunshine, Asa wandered over to the blacksmith. He waited till Levi, in his leather apron, finished the horseshoe he was pounding on the anvil, making sparks fly. The heat from his fire warmed Asa’s face uncomfortably.

  “Hello.” Levi swiped a grimy cloth over his sweaty face.

  Asa returned the greeting. “Need to know if you ever heard of the Farriers or the Smiths.”

  Levi looked thoughtful. “The Farriers died last winter. Sad. The Smiths were their neighbors. Why do you ask?”

  “Tell you later. Need to know where the Smiths’ place is.”

  Levi motioned toward the trail that followed the river north. “Head up to the Chippewa River. Follow it west about four miles. That’s where they live.”

  “Thanks.” Asa turned to leave.

  Levi said, “Let me know if you need any help.”

  Asa thanked him again. Levi reminded Asa of what he had once been, a young man who had not been drained and polluted by the war. He liked to talk to Levi and enjoy the easy friendship they shared. But now he had to go home and discuss the children with Judith. He thought he knew what to do, but he wanted to hear what she had to say. His wife had a good grasp about people.

  And she had more than that. Judith’s open-hearted ways were a temptation to him, and her soft voice had a way of swirling inside him, rustling the dry leaves of his heart. He stopped his thoughts there. The two of them
were working out a way to live together just as he wanted, respecting each other’s privacy. His mind tried to bring up the sensation of her lips on his cheek. He shoved it away. Or at least, he tried to.

  *

  That evening at supper, Asa cleared his throat. “I went to town and talked to Ashford.”

  Judith looked into his eyes. “Oh?”

  He didn’t want to talk, but he needed to get her ideas, see if she’d come to the same conclusion he had. “I found out that a couple named Farrier did die this winter.” He filled her in on the details, scant as they were. “The Smiths probably wanted the children for work on the farm.” Done, he waited for her to comment.

  She worried her lower lip. “I don’t think the children would have left the Smiths’—was it…?”

  He nodded.

  “…without good cause. They are too young to be rebellious, like children somewhat older than they are can be. It sounds like something bad happened at the Smiths’.”

  “That’s what I thought, too.”

  “I will pray about it. God brought them to us. They need us but are afraid. I don’t know how to overcome that.”

  “Right.” Asa had exhausted what he wanted to bring up, and she had reinforced what he thought of the situation. Judith would pray and he would come up with a plan. In his experience, prayer didn’t always help. It hadn’t in the war. Images of starving children buffeted him. He closed his eyes, wishing he could banish the cruel memories.

  *

  A cloudless sky overhead, Asa rode his chestnut horse. He’d already reached the Chippewa River and was heading east, nearing the Smiths’. Two days had passed since the children had sat at his table. Yesterday his wife carried food to the children at their cave. He’d stayed away, concerned that he might spook them and cause them to bolt if he came too near.

  Of course, he had work to do today, but planting time hadn’t come yet, so he could look for the Smiths. Ever since finding the children, his wife had not been her usual cheerful self. The plight of Lily and Colton was weighing on her. He’d heard her crying last night. The sound had motivated him to venture out today.

  Overhead, crows swooped, and then a falcon screeched. The frontier had a special peace, one undisturbed by train whistles, steam engines, gunfire, hoarse shouts, the chaos of battle. He shook his head, trying to shake away the sudden fire of many cannons blasting in his memory. Smoke. The stench of death and screams of wounded men and animals.

  He stopped his horse and drew in deep breaths, letting the calm of the forest wrap around him, the truth of his current situation settle in his heart. It was very unlikely that anyone here was lying in wait for him, aiming a rifle at him. He closed his eyes. Then opened them and urged his horse forward, following a track through the trees, the river rushing nearby.

  He came around another river bend and happened onto a clearing with a cabin and barn. Asa sized up the homestead. And decided Mr. Smith didn’t know what he was doing. The man had built too close to the river, which had been steadily rising with the snowmelt. He’d be flooded out if spring brought heavy rains.

  Asa called the common frontier greeting when approaching a dwelling. “Hello the house!”

  A woman opened the door and looked out. A man came out of the barn, carrying a rifle. He barked, “Get inside, woman.”

  The woman obeyed, shutting the door.

  “What do you want?” the man called out. He kept the rifle down but held it in both hands, ready to raise it.

  Asa didn’t want to make hasty assumptions. He himself was cautious with strangers. He’d come armed with a pistol at his belt and a rifle where he could reach it. He realized that he’d not thought up a plausible reason for coming. He didn’t want to let on about the children if they’d run away from here. He racked his brain for a good excuse.

  He saw a gray-and-white kitten peeping out of the barn door. “I’m Brant. Live near town.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yes. Heard that you might have some kittens for sale. I need barn cats.”

  The man eyed him. “Who told you that?”

  “Storekeeper.”

  “That old woman in pants.” The man snorted.

  Asa bridled at the insult to Ashford. Yes, the storekeeper liked to talk, but it was no reason to speak that way about him. Asa nodded toward the kitten and another that had wandered outside. “Well, do you have an extra pair I could have?”

  The man rubbed his stubbled face and squinted up at Asa. Then he dropped one hand from his rifle. “Sure. Cat had a litter of six this time.”

  “I’d like to take two off your hands. Once I plant corn, the mice will come running.”

  The man chuckled at this.

  “Your cat a good mouser?”

  “If she wasn’t, I wouldn’t keep her.”

  “So let’s do business.” Asa slid from his horse.

  The haggling over the price of two barn kittens allowed Asa more time to size up the homestead and the man. The man was rough and his place disorganized, sloppy. Asa didn’t respect a man who didn’t know how to take care of what he owned.

  When he finally paid a price he deemed exorbitant for the cats, he was ready to leave this man. He scooped up the kittens and stuck them, heads out, one in each deep chest pocket of his jacket and buttoned them in. They were tiny, probably just old enough to leave their mom. Mewing, they dug their little claws into him, holding on for dear life.

  Asa mounted, tipped his hat toward the woman staring out the window at him. He felt Smith’s gaze on his back as he rode away. Around the bend he was happy to be within his sight no longer. Something about Smith just didn’t feel right. Asa pushed this thought aside. The kittens were mewing and trying to climb out of his pockets, their little noses peeping out. He began murmuring to them about his house, his cow and its good milk, and his wife Judith.

  Thinking of her caused him to urge his horse to pick up a little more speed. He wanted to be home—home where a neat, pretty woman would no doubt be making something good to eat. He glanced up at the calm blue sky, wishing he could be more for her. She deserved the best. A man who still had feelings to share.

  *

  “Judith!”

  She heard Asa’s voice, interrupting the cooing mourning dove. The bird had been sounding its lonely call as she waited for Asa to return. She stepped outside. Where had he been gone all these hours? He’d eaten breakfast and the next thing she knew, he was riding away. She pressed her lips together, holding back a scolding. She didn’t know Asa well enough for that. “Yes?”

  Then she glimpsed two little furry gray-and-white heads peeping out of his jacket pockets. “Kittens! Wherever did you get them?” She hurried forward.

  He slid from the saddle, lifted out one kitten and handed it to her.

  She accepted the ball of fur. “Oh, so tiny.” She petted its head with one finger. “So soft.” She glanced up, smiling. “Where did you get them?” she repeated.

  “A homestead north of here.”

  “I’ve missed our cats and dog.” She reached out and touched the other one. Then she looked up, wondering at this development. What was going on in her husband’s head?

  “We need to talk.” Asa lifted out the other kitten for her. “I’ll unsaddle.” He turned, leading his horse, and she followed him. She didn’t enter the barn but paused at the door.

  His comment was unexpected and somewhat cryptic. Talk about what? She knew what she wanted to bring up again, the plight of the cave children, but instead she cuddled the kittens near her cheeks, luxuriating in the soft, silken fur. And waited, hoping Asa would explain. Then she’d made up her mind whether to ask him if they could somehow persuade the children to come for a visit. Someone needed to decide what to do about those poor waifs. She would gladly take on the responsibility, but Asa was the husband, the man of the house, the head of their new family. He must lead. And she must follow.

  Asa lifted off the saddle and proceeded to put away his tack. “Talked to Ashford,
you know.”

  “Yes.” She waited.

  He began currying his horse. “Decided to find the people who I think took in Colton and Lily after their parents died. Went to see them today.”

  It hurt that he hadn’t discussed this with her before he’d gone, but whining about it wouldn’t help her cause, which was to get those children out of that cold cave. She quelled her reaction. “I’m glad. What did you find?”

  “Wouldn’t leave a dog in their care,” Asa said, sounding angry. “The man was a rough sort, and his wife looked cowed. Got a bad feeling just being there.”

  “Oh, dear.” Judith’s ready sympathy was stirred. The kittens strained to get down, but she held on to them.

  “I bought the kittens so he wouldn’t wonder why I’d just popped up out of the blue.” He began brushing the horse’s mane. The animal leaned into his hand as if enjoying the attention.

  “Good thinking.” She crooned to the two little ones, trying to think up names for them.

  He chuckled. “I’m a silver dollar shorter than when I left.”

  “A silver dollar for two kittens?” The price shocked her.

  “Yes, I got him down from a dollar apiece.” He finished dealing with the horse and led the animal outside, heading to their pasture, where it could graze under the trees with their tiny leaves.

  Judith kept up with him.

  “Need to get those children out of that cave,” Asa said. “Orphans that young won’t make it.”

  Judith couldn’t hold back her relief at his words. “Oh, Asa, I’ve been so worried for them.”

  His horse nudged him as if asking for a treat. Asa stroked his nose. “Stayed on my mind, too.” Then, on the flat of his hand, he held out a sugar cube from his pocket, and the horse took it. “Invite them to another meal and afterward, ask them to stay. They need someone to look after them. And they came to our door.”

  Judith hurried forward and touched Asa’s arm. “Thank you. I didn’t know what to do.”

  He turned to her. “Well, I don’t know, either, except that we can’t do nothing.”

  Judith nearly kissed his cheek again.