Lyn Cote (20 page)

A fifth-grade boy with feathers in a band around his head walked over to the fourth graders and raised his hand in greeting. “‘Squanto had been kidnapped as a young boy by a sea captain and taken to Europe. He could speak English. He taught the pilgrims how to grow maize, beans and squash.’”

As the program continued, the door at the rear opened and a woman—a stranger—stepped in, scanning the room as if searching for someone. Ellen wondered who she was.

Amanda handed the book to another eighth grader who began reading, but the boy’s voice trailed off as heads turned to watch the stranger. The woman was walking slowly up the center aisle, rudely studying the people in each row. People glared at her for disturbing the program. Ellen prompted the lad to start reading again.

“There he is!” the strange woman exclaimed and ran to Mrs. Ashford. The woman snatched William from Mrs. Ashford’s arms, igniting an instant uproar. Ellen leaped forward and tried to wrest William from the woman’s arms. “Take your hands off my son!”

With angry voices, people surged to their feet and converged on the woman and Ellen.

Kurt reached her first and wrenched William from the stranger. “What do you think you are doing?” he demanded. “This child belongs to Miss Thurston!”

The woman burst into loud tears. There was something false about her—Ellen did not think for a moment the weeping was real. “Who are you?” she demanded.

“I am the poor woman who was forced to leave my baby on your doorstep,” the woman wailed.

Everyone quieted, watchful.

“Forced?” Noah pushed to the front. “Who forced you to abandon your child?”

The woman buried her face in a handkerchief and wept louder, as if she couldn’t bear to tell her tale.

Ellen examined the woman from head to toe. She looked to be a few years older than Ellen, dressed in worn and not too clean clothing. A torn cuff caught Ellen’s eye.

“Fate has been cruel to me,” the woman said. “I’m a poor widow who lost her husband before my child was born. And then he was born disfigured so.” She wept copiously.

Ellen gritted her teeth, holding back her words, letting the woman tell her story. She tried to remain calm, for nothing so far had registered in her mind to give any credence to the woman’s claim.

“I found a man who would marry me, but I didn’t think he’d want my baby, too, so I left him here.”

More wailing and tears followed.

Ellen reached the end of her short rope. Seething, she scanned the faces crowding around. Did they believe this woman?

Those who hadn’t wanted this
disfigured
foundling in their town in the first place were nodding as if they did believe her. Ellen held her tongue, knowing anything she would say would be discounted.

But how could she put a stop to this?

“So,” Noah Whitmore said, “you say that your husband died before your child was born, and since you wanted to find a new husband right away—before a proper year of mourning—you abandoned your child on Miss Thurston’s doorstep?”

Ellen took heart. When the pastor put the situation in plain terms without all the weeping and histrionics, anybody could see that the story proved to be as thin as broth and did the woman no credit.

But the woman nodded, silently agreeing to these dreadful facts, her face still buried in her handkerchief.

“Do you have any proof?” Noah asked.

“Proof?” the woman replied with surprise, looking up. “What proof could I give?”

“
Ja,
a very good question,” Kurt spoke at last.

“You don’t sound like an American,” the woman snapped. “What do you know about anything?”

Ellen swallowed a sharp retort, trusting Noah to handle this. Kurt merely gazed at the woman, holding William securely in his arms.

“Before we could give you this child, we’d have to have something more to go on,” Noah pronounced. “We know that Miss Thurston is giving the child good care, but we don’t know you.”

“Well!” the woman declared. “You can’t prove that I’m not the baby’s mother.”

“Ma’am,” Noah said, “the burden of proof lies with you. Bring someone or something to back you up and—”

The woman sent a scathing glance at Kurt and Ellen and then pushed through the crowd. When she reached the door, she turned dramatically and called, “I’ll be back! You haven’t heard the last of me. That’s my child and I won’t be denied!” With that, she swept out and slammed the door behind her.

“She didn’t even say what her name was,” Mrs. Ashford said in the quiet after the storm.

“Nor did she tell us where she’s from, for instance, and how she got here to leave William in the first place...if she did,” Noah added.

“The dustup about the foundling with a birthmark left on the Pepin schoolteacher’s doorstep has become common knowledge up and down the river,” Mrs. Ashford said. “People would come in and ask Ned and me whether it was true or not.”

Old Saul cleared his throat. “Noah, I have grave doubts about this woman’s story—grave doubts. But time will tell. I will pray for clarity in this. I hope everyone will. Not every person is to be trusted.”

Ellen heartily agreed with this but decided it best not to say anything. The truth will out, Shakespeare had said, and Ellen did not doubt him.

“Everyone,” Ellen said finally in her best teacher voice, “the children haven’t finished their program. Please be seated so all their hard work won’t go for naught.”

The crowd returned to their places, but the good feeling of the community coming together to give thanks had been spoiled, broken. At the end the children all bowed together and everyone applauded, but the zest had left the room.

Afterward, people milled around in groups, talking in low tones about the woman, not beaming and bragging over the children’s program as Ellen had hoped. She roiled with frustration. Her plan to bring the community together again had been demolished by a woman she didn’t believe for a moment.

The only bright spot came when she remembered that Kurt has wrested William from the woman and had defended her. But the way he would not look at her before he departed left her feeling even worse. Was this because of her brother’s meddling?

Chapter Twenty

W
earing her best day dress of figured amber silk in honor of Thanksgiving at Martin and Ophelia’s, Ellen wished she could get into the holiday spirit. She sat at the Steward’s table watching Nathan and William, unable to tear her thoughts from yesterday’s unexpected interruption at the school play.

The one person she wanted to talk to was Kurt. Also invited for the holiday, he and the boys were due to arrive at any moment. However, yesterday after the school program, he had made it clear that he did not want to speak to her. In some ways, she understood—it would have fueled the gossip about them even more.

Her only hope was that Kurt would drive her home from the Stewards’. Perhaps then, when they were alone, she’d have an opportunity to talk to him about William, and also find out what was bothering him.

Ophelia glanced at a list she had on the mantel and checked one more item off with her pencil. “Everything is done.” She exhaled with satisfaction and untied her spattered apron.

Ellen smiled, but only with her lips; her heart remained weighed down. Would she be forced to take William away from here in order to keep him? Would she have to leave this place that had become home? Would she have to leave Kurt?

A knock sounded. Martin called out, “Come in!”

Kurt, Gunther and Johann entered, letting in the late November cold. The next few moments were taken up with exchanging greetings and hanging up coats and scarves. Ellen made a point to send Kurt a special smile. He merely nodded and then looked away.

Her spirits plummeted lower.

“It’s getting cold. Maybe we get snow soon,” red-cheeked Johann announced happily and then made a beeline to William, who was napping in his cradle.

Soon the seven of them sat around a table laden with bowls, one each of potatoes with a pool of melted butter, corn, dressing and a basket of yeast rolls. And a platter of wild turkey, Kurt’s contribution to the feast.

Though the meal was wonderful, Ellen’s appetite eluded her. She tried to keep all her anxiety inside. Tried but failed.

“Ellen, I know you’re worried about William,” Ophelia said finally.

Ellen felt ashamed for casting a shadow over the holiday meal Ophelia had worked so hard to prepare. “I’m so sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry about,” Martin said. “If that woman is William’s mother, I’ll eat my hat—and Kurt’s, too.”

“Why would she say he’s her son if it isn’t true?” Gunther asked, his face twisted with puzzlement.

Ellen had tried to come up with reasons but couldn’t. She also tried to gauge Kurt’s reaction but his expression had become shuttered as if he’d put up a wall between them. Why? And why did she feel empty, frail because of it?

“I don’t know why that woman would claim William was hers,” Martin said. “But it’s just too fishy. Her husband dies and she immediately starts looking for another one? What kind of wife does that?”

“A wife who’s left destitute,” Ellen said. “Sometimes women don’t have a choice.”

They all looked to Ellen in surprise.

“But give up her own blood?” Gunther interposed. “That’s not right.”

Ellen listened to the arguments, all of which had already streamed through her mind over and over. Still, Kurt was silent.

“What will you do, Ellen?” Ophelia asked.

Ellen paused for a moment, and then said, “Maybe I should just go home to Galena. I have family and friends there who will support me,” she said.

Kurt swallowed a sound of surprise.

At this, silence fell. Martin and Ophelia stepped into the breach and began talking about their plans for a quick visit home before the Mississippi froze. “We haven’t been home since we came north,” Ophelia said. “Mother wants to see her first grandchild again.”

“When do you leave?” Ellen asked.

“Tomorrow morning,” Martin said.

This news surprised Ellen. “So soon? You didn’t say anything.”

“Mr. Ashford told us the river captains expect the icing over within the next month,” Martin said. “It might come sooner, and we don’t want to get stuck in Galena. A trip home by land in the cold isn’t what I want for my wife and child.”

Ellen got his point. Travel over land in the cold could endanger little Nathan. And with the threat of the imminent freezing of the Mississippi, the visit would be a short one, which they preferred.

“I will take care of your stock,” Kurt offered.

“Thanks. I was hoping you would,” Martin said, sounding distinctly relieved.

“Then we’ll leave you the leftovers,” Ophelia said. “I don’t want the food to go to waste.”

“I think I should come and stay here,” Gunther suggested. “An empty cabin is not good.”

“You’re right,” Martin said, giving Gunther a friendly slap on the shoulder. “We would be better off with someone staying here. Not just in case of a thief, but with all the hibernating animals foraging, a bear might break in easily and rip everything apart.”

Kurt nodded, looking grateful. “You are thinking, Gunther.”

Recognizing Kurt’s pride in his brother, Ellen felt a pang. She missed talking to him about Gunther, about Johann.
I’ll feel better after we talk on the way home.
Her ragged spirit yearned to be near him and she looked forward to sitting beside him on the journey home. She could bring up Randolph and somehow take the sting from his words. Or she could try.

But it did not turn out the way she’d hoped.

When the meal was finished and the dishes begun, the men went out to get wood. When they came back in, letting in a cold draft, Martin shed his coat and gloves but Kurt kept his on.

“Mrs. Steward, thank you for the wonderful meal. I must go home now. One of my cows is not well and I want to keep close watch on her.”

His announcement hit Ellen right between her eyes.

Obviously startled, Gunther looked up from washing the large roasting pan.

“Yes, of course,” Martin said, looking back and forth between Kurt and Ellen, and making it obvious that he, too, had expected Kurt to drive her home.

A few awkward moments passed. Ellen endured them, feeling discarded.

“I’ll drive Miss Thurston home,” Gunther offered, drying the last pan and setting it upside down on the table. “Johann can ride along with William in the rear. He’ll enjoy it.”

Kurt bid everyone goodbye without any special word or even a glance toward Ellen, and then shut the door hard behind him.

Soon, in the darkening afternoon, Ellen and William were bundled up for their chilly ride home. Johann carried the baby and Gunther got up on the cart bench first.

Martin and Ophelia walked Ellen outside. “You must have faith,” Ophelia murmured close to Ellen’s ear. “William will not be taken from you. That woman will have no proof. She didn’t even give us her name. That’s telling.”

Ellen didn’t say what she was thinking, which was that many in the community still would pressure her to give up William if it came down to it. But she found, as Martin helped her up onto the two-wheeled cart, that the sinking feeling dragging her down was not about the stranger who was lying about William.

Kurt, why have you turned away from me? This is more than Randolph’s interference. It must be.

Then Martin leaned forward and said to Ellen, “I think you will be as happy as we are to have the river freeze.”

Ophelia turned to her husband. “What do you mean, Martin?”

“Before he left, Randolph stopped by to have a few words with Kurt.”

“You didn’t tell me that,” Ophelia protested. She looked to Ellen, and Ellen nodded, letting on that she’d guessed.

“Perhaps that has something to do with Kurt’s demeanor today?” Ophelia asked.

Ellen found she couldn’t even answer her cousin. Her brother’s meddling could not be the cause of Kurt’s distancing himself from her. She couldn’t imagine him bowing to such pressure.

Martin put his arm around his wife, calling out a final farewell as Gunther turned the cart and headed away in the early autumn twilight. Ellen clung to the rocking bench, trying to understand what had gone so terribly wrong. On the way home, Ellen couldn’t decide if she were colder inside from her distress or outside from the chill. Wind buffeted them and swayed the treetops. Dry oak leaves clung to the branches above and the sky stretched overhead, bleak gray.

“Miss Thurston,” Gunther began, “I have finished reading the American history book you loaned me. Can we start our evening lessons again? I’ll understand if you—”

Ellen was momentarily ashamed of herself for wallowing in her problems. “No. I want to help you keep up your studies. Do you want to come this weekend or wait till next week?”

“May I come Saturday afternoon?”

“Yes, we’ll start learning more American geography. You can help me mount the new wall maps that just arrived.”

“I’ll be glad to help.” The young man again fell silent.

Ellen tried to think of another topic of conversation, but all she could think was that Kurt had told Martin he’d expected Randolph’s disapproval. Something else was at work here.

In the silence, Ellen remembered the many times Kurt had taken her home in this cart, and she’d rested against him. Had the sweet connection she’d felt with him ended? The bleak gray sky slipped inside her as angry words for her interfering brother flowed through her mind.

She had to find the courage to talk to Kurt...and let him know her heart.