In the Face of Danger (18 page)

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Authors: Joan Lowery Nixon

BOOK: In the Face of Danger
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“I don’t know,” Ben said helplessly. “Maybe after the baby gets here.”

“Oh, please!” Megan begged. “Just for a minute?”

Ben thought a moment, then said, “It won’t hurt to ask.” He knocked at the door to their bedroom and talked in a low voice to Nelda. Finally he turned and smiled at Megan. “Emma wants to see you, too,” he said. “Go on in. Nelda says she’s resting comfortably right now.”

Megan ran into the room and dropped to her knees by Emma’s side. Emma, flushed and damp with perspiration, smiled and said, “You look so worried, Megan. Don’t be afraid. Everything is going to be fine.”

“The baby?”

“Even though it wasn’t supposed to arrive for another two weeks, it’s a large baby, and I’m sure it’s old enough to be strong and healthy when it’s born.” She patted Megan’s arm. “You were so brave, and I’m proud of you.”

Megan sighed. “I was terribly afraid. And I told Mr. Napes I would shoot him.” She shuddered. “I wouldn’t have. I couldn’t. I had to make him think so, though, so I lied to him.”

“You told that lie to save us. Don’t let it bother your conscience.”

Megan laid her head against Emma’s arm and held her hand tightly. “I did give some thought to all the things you told me about bad luck and the gypsy,” she said, “and I think I understand now. You were right, the gypsy woman was an excuse I could hide behind. I could let myself get good and angry at the gypsy for making me a bad penny, and then I wouldn’t have to be angry at anyone else. A lot of unhappy things have happened, and it was easy to blame the gypsy for all of them.”

“It’s not wrong to get angry,” Emma said.

“I know that now. I was very angry at Cully Napes.” Megan paused, a smile flickering on her lips. “It felt good. It helped give me the strength to keep that heavy rifle aimed at him.”

For a moment Megan paused, and when she spoke again her voice was softer. “I guess deep inside I was angry when Da died. And I was angry with Mike for being a pickpocket and angry at Ma for sending us away. But I love them. I couldn’t—couldn’t—”

She raised her head and smiled into Emma’s eyes. “I have learned this much,” she said. “There’s more to getting to where you’re going than just knowing there’s a road. Will you help me with the rest?”

“Oh, Megan,” Emma said, twisting to wrap her arms around Megan. “I love you dearly.”

Megan snuggled joyfully into Emma’s hug. “After the baby comes, there’s something I want to give you,” she murmured. “It’s the drawing Mr. Cartwright made.”

“But that’s your treasure,” Emma protested.

“That’s why I want you to have it,” Megan said.

Emma beamed. “Oh, Megan, what a wonderful gift!”

Suddenly Emma released her hold on Megan and lay back, panting, her eyes closed as she gripped the edge of the quilt.

Megan sat back on her heels, frightened. “Emma?” she whispered.

Mrs. Parson said, “Don’t worry, Megan.” She helped Megan to her feet. “Suppose you dish up supper for the others. That’s the best thing you can do to help right now.”

“Are you sure she’s all right?”

“Positive.”

Megan did as she was told, glowing with the warmth of Emma’s beautiful words: “I love you dearly.”

And I love you, Emma
, Megan said over and over to herself.
You and Ben and the baby
. She prayed with all her might that the baby would be strong and healthy. And she prayed for Emma each time she heard sounds from the bedroom. Time moved slowly. Why was the wait so long?

Later, much later, after everyone had eaten and Megan was carrying a stack of empty bowls to be washed, she heard a baby’s cry. The tin bowls and spoons clattered to the floor.

“The baby!” she gasped.

Everyone stared wide-eyed at the closed door until they heard Nelda shout, “It’s a healthy little boy!”

Ben grinned broadly as the marshal and Will clapped him on the back and shouted congratulations. Megan grabbed Thea’s hands and spun her around and around, laughing and shouting.

It seemed to take forever before the bedroom door opened and Nelda said, “Ben, Megan, you can come in now.”

Megan tiptoed into the room just behind Ben. Emma was propped against the pillows, holding the baby, who was wrapped in a small blanket, in her arms. Ben stooped to kiss Emma, and she pulled back a corner of the blanket to exhibit the tiny red face.

Megan laughed with delight. The baby looked so much
like Petey when he was born, red and wrinkled, with a nose no bigger than a round button. “He’s beautiful and wonderful!” she murmured.

Emma reached over to clasp Megan’s hand and looked up at Ben. “Now we have a daughter
and
a son to love!”

Ben put an arm around Megan, and she snuggled against him, but Emma’s eyes began to sparkle with mischief.

“You know how hard it always is for me to wait for Christmas,” she said to Ben. She nuzzled the top of her son’s fuzzy head. “We received an early Christmas present. Now it should be Megan’s turn.”

“Emma,” he protested with a laugh, but Emma paid no attention.

“Megan, look in the chest—the top drawer.” As Megan did, Emma directed, “See the bundle wrapped in brown paper? Take it out and open it. It’s yours.”

Megan carefully unwrapped the paper to find a cloth doll with black button eyes and an embroidered smile. Dressed in a pink flowered dress with a white apron, she was the most beautiful doll Megan had ever seen. She was the only doll Megan had ever held.

As Megan looked at Emma, she couldn’t find the words to tell her all that was in her heart. But Emma seemed to understand.

“Merry Christmas, little daughter,” she said.

Tenderly Megan cradled the doll in the same way that Emma held her baby. It was almost Christmas, and Megan knew there’d be times during the holiday when she’d ache for her brothers and sisters and Ma. But she had Ben and Emma and the new little baby in her life now, and she loved them just as dearly as they loved her.

She hugged the doll and grinned back at Emma. “It’s a
very
merry Christmas!” Megan said.

* * *

As Grandma closed the journal Jennifer sighed. “I know how Megan must have felt. I’d hate to be away from my family at Christmas, especially if I hadn’t heard from them and wondered what they were doing.”

“Megan had heard from them,” Jeff said. “Remember the letters from her mother and Mike and Frances?”

Jennifer wrapped her arms around her legs, hugging her knees. “But not Danny and Peg,” she said. She turned to Grandma. “Why didn’t they write to Megan?”

“Maybe they didn’t know how,” Jeff said.

“But someone could help them. What about their new mother, Grandma? Couldn’t she write a letter for them?”

Grandma shook her head. “I’m afraid not.”

Both Jennifer and Jeff stared at her. “Why not?”

Grandma got to her feet. “It would take too long to tell you now,” she said. “That’s another story.”

Jennifer studied her grandmother with suspicion. “Can’t you even give us a hint? Did Danny and Peg get into trouble?”

“Yes,” Grandma said. “Some of it was of Danny’s own making, but the attempted kidnapping—well, of course that wasn’t his fault.”

Jennifer jumped up. “Kidnapping! Can’t you tell us more about it?”

Grandma looked at her watch. “We’ve got time to make a trip to the grocery store before I put a roast in the oven. Want to come along?”

“I do,” Jeff said.

“I do, too,” Jennifer answered, “but you didn’t answer my question.”

Grandma smiled. “I’ll answer it. I’ll tell you everything that Frances Mary wrote in her journal about Danny and Peg—but not until tomorrow.”

JOAN LOWERY NIXON has been called the grande dame of young adult mysteries. She is the author of more than 130 books for young readers and is the only four-time winner of the Edgar Allan Poe Award for Best Young Adult Novel. She received the award for
The Kidnapping of Christina Lattimore
,
The Séance
,
The Name of the Game Is Murder
, and
The Other Side of Dark
, which also won the California Young Reader Medal.

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The Civil War has officially ended, and Frances Mary Kelly accepts an offer to go to New York City and return west with a group of orphans seeking new homes. The journey is more challenging than Frances could have anticipated. Will she be able to complete her mission and return home?

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