Through the Deep Waters (21 page)

She quickly located a pair of tortoiseshell combs that looked similar in size to the broken ones lying on the dressing table at the hotel room. Although she needed to hurry back, she stayed hidden behind the tall shelves, listening while Mr. Ackerman paid the clerk. The door to the cash register slammed,
and still she waited until she heard Mr. Ackerman’s distinctive footsteps cross the floor and the screen door slap into its frame. Assured he’d gone, she hustled from her hiding spot, paid for the combs, then dashed onto the boardwalk.

Without conscious thought, she scanned the street for a glimpse of Mr. Ackerman. She spotted him up the block, ushering the little boy named Cale into the brick building that served as the city offices. Lifting her skirt a little, she took off at a trot, weaving past other morning shoppers. When she passed the city offices, she couldn’t resist sending a glance through the plate-glass window. Mr. Ackerman had his hand on Cale’s shoulder, and the sheriff seemed to be questioning the boy.

Her feet automatically slowed as questions filled her mind about the child and why he was with Mr. Ackerman. Clearly he was fond of the boy—his tender touch and the kind way he’d addressed Cale in the store indicated such. He’d just bought Cale a set of new clothes, so he must have a relationship with the child. A younger brother? A cousin, perhaps? Or even his son?

The last speculation jolted her feet into motion. She nearly raced the remaining blocks to the hotel, then clattered up to her room and changed into a fresh apron, washed her face, and slicked back the loosened strands of hair from her bun before returning to duty. But while she helped the guest—a Mrs. McClaren from St. Louis, Missouri, who was traveling home from California after visiting her sister—first with her hair and then her luggage, Dinah couldn’t clear the images of the little boy from her mind.

What if the child was a stranger, a newcomer to town like her, and the man had simply befriended him? Much the way he’d tried to befriend her. She’d dared to believe Mr. Ackerman’s kindness to her meant he saw her as someone special, worthy of attention. But if he reached out to every new person who arrived in town, then she’d have to accept she wasn’t really special at all. And the thought hurt more than she would have expected.

Amos

Amos handed Cale the last clean dish and watched the boy dry every drop with the wadded toweling. With the tip of his tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth and his brow puckered in concentration, he seemed to be performing a more important task than drying a speckled plate. Amos had learned over the past few days Cale did everything with great care, as if fearful of making a mistake.

When the plate was dry, Cale placed it on the stack on the shelf and then grinned at Amos. “All done. I’ll go put Sam an’ Gid on their ropes now.”

Amos held out his hand, stopping the boy from darting for the door. “I already tied them up in the barn.”

Cale scowled. “In the barn? How they gonna keep watch over the chicken house if you got ’em closed up in there?”

“I reckon we need to talk about that.” Amos didn’t relish the conversation. Cale was crazy about the pups, spending every spare minute playing with them, and the news the sheriff delivered earlier in the day would probably worry him. But he’d need the boy’s help keeping Samson and Gideon locked up. Pointing to the chairs, Amos silently invited Cale to join him at the clean table. They settled themselves on opposite sides, and Amos said, “Remember how the sheriff rode out this afternoon?”

Cale nodded. His expression turned apprehensive.

“It seems a pack of wild dogs has been roaming the area farms, killing calves and lambs and even a horse at one place. The sheriff’s put together a group of men who’ve been instructed to shoot any dog they see out wandering. So we can’t let Samson and Gideon go roaming until the men have destroyed
the pack. The sheriff said he knows my two pups haven’t been up to any mischief so he didn’t shoot them, and he said he’d let me know when it was safe to let them out again.”

Cale’s tense frown eased. He coughed out a short laugh. “Is that all?”

To Amos the situation was dire. He’d been praying off and on since the sheriff left, and he continued to pray that no other animals or people were put in harm’s way by the pack. He spoke firmly, hoping to make clear the seriousness to the boy. “This is nothing to laugh about. Those dogs are a real danger. Not only will we keep Samson and Gideon locked up, but I’ll have my rifle ready in case the wild dogs come here. And you stay close to the house, too—no venturing out in the afternoons like you’ve been doing.”

The boy’s eyes flew wide, his jaw dropping. “I wasn’t laughin’ about the dogs, honest! It’s just when I seen the sheriff ride in, I thought—” He shrunk down, folding his arms over his chest.

Amos frowned. “You thought what?”

“It don’t matter.” Cale shot out of his chair. “Gonna get ready for bed.”

Amos caught the boy’s arm as he charged past. “Hold up, Cale.” Cale stood stiffly in Amos’s light grasp. And suddenly he understood. “Did you think the sheriff was coming for you?”

Cale’s chin quivered. He nodded.

Amos sighed. Although he’d intended to keep quiet about the other reason for the sheriff’s visit, he changed his mind. Cale should know. He gave the boy a little nudge toward the chair. “Sit down there. Let me tell you what the sheriff said about you.”

Cale slunk back into his chair. Resignation sagged his features, making him seem much older than his not-quite-nine years. “Them Hollisters over in McPherson want me back, do they?”

“He hasn’t gotten a response to the telegram he sent.” Amos sucked in a breath, praying for strength. He’d grown fond of the boy, and he wanted what was best for Cale. He just wasn’t sure yet what “best” might be. “But even if they don’t take you back, the sheriff said you’ll have to go … somewhere. The church in New York that sent you to Kansas is responsible for you. They’ll find a new
place for you.” Amos angled his head, pinning the boy with a firm look. “Are you sure you don’t remember the name of the minister who sent you to Kansas?”

Shaking his head wildly, Cale looked directly into Amos’s eyes. “Just know it was a preacher an’ a lady. Back in May—maybe June—they hauled a whole bunch of us boys into the church, fed us a good meal, cleaned us up, an’ gave us a new set of clothes. Then they put us on a train an’ said we’d be goin’ to Christian families for a decent upbringin’.” He shrugged. “That’s all I remember.”

Although Amos suspected Cale was wily enough to withhold anything he didn’t want to divulge, he hoped the boy wouldn’t lie to him. “The sheriff’s asked the police in New York for help in finding the preacher. He said there’s more than one organization sending city orphans to the West, but he’ll find the right one eventually, even without a name.”

Cale hung his head and sighed. “Sure don’t wanna go back to the Hollisters.” He fingered the bone buttons of his new shirt. “They’ll probably take the shirt and pants you bought me. They took the new clothes the preacher gave me an’ made me wear their boy’s worn-out hand-me-downs. I didn’t like them Hollisters at all.”

Amos didn’t like them, either, based on the little bit he’d learned from Cale.
Lord, forgive my un-Christian thoughts, but people like that don’t deserve to raise this boy
. “Well, don’t fret about it now. You can stay with me until the sheriff works things out with the New York preacher. If you’re still here next week when school starts up again, we’ll get you enrolled. No sense in a smart boy like you missing out on book learning.”

Cale’s head bounced upward so fast Amos was surprised the boy didn’t jar his neck. “School? Honest?”

Amos anticipated a struggle. He had to wrestle Cale into the washtub for a bath. “You want to go?”

“I sure do!” Cale wriggled in his chair, reminding Amos of the puppies’ excitement at breakfast time. “That’s the only reason I didn’t run off from the preacher. He said we’d get to go to school at our new homes. But the Hollisters said they’d keep me home to work instead. I can really go to school?”

Amos hoped he hadn’t mentioned school too soon. What if the sheriff came and took the boy before school started? “If you’re still here, yes.”

Cale seemed to ignore Amos’s cautious warning. He leaped from the chair and punched both fists in the air. “Woo-hoo!”

Amos couldn’t stifle a laugh. Had he ever been so enthusiastic about sitting behind a school desk? He didn’t think so. He shook his head. “Enough hollering. You’ll get the chickens all riled up. It’s bedtime. Off with you now.”

Grinning, Cale headed for the corner where Amos had laid out a pallet for him. Midway across the floor he stopped and sent a pensive look in Amos’s direction. “If the Hollisters don’t want me an’ the preacher says it’s all right, could I just stay here? With you?”

A yearning to agree welled up within Amos’s chest. But he wouldn’t give the boy false hope. His heart aching, he slowly shook his head.

Cale’s shoulders drooped. “Oh. Well.”

“It isn’t that I don’t want you. But—”

“It don’t matter.” Cale scuffed to the corner and dropped onto the pallet. Rolling onto his side, he faced the wall.

Amos pushed up from his chair and limped across the floor. He bent over and touched Cale’s shoulder. He waited until the boy angled his head to peek at him. He cleared his throat, forcing aside a lump of emotion. “If I could, I’d keep you. You’re a fine boy. But it isn’t up to me. It’s up to the preacher, and if the Hollisters don’t work out for you, the preacher’ll want you to be with a real family. I’m just a bachelor chicken farmer. Do you understand?”

For long moments Cale lay gazing up at Amos with his lips set in a firm line. Then he sighed. “I understand. An’ I don’t hold it against you.”

Amos gave a wobbly smile.

“But,” Cale went on, his forehead crunching into furrows of deep thought, “maybe I’ll get to stay here after all. Maybe the Hollisters will say they don’t want me back—they said I was a peck of trouble. Maybe you’ll get married before the sheriff finds the preacher. Maybe—”

Amos lurched upright. Fire flamed his face. “Married?”

Cale flopped onto his back, then propped himself up with his elbows. He
blinked innocently at Amos. “Well, sure. You’re plenty old. You oughtta get married. What about that lady from the dry goods store? You seemed to like her well enough.”

Amos spun on his heel and headed for the stove where the remaining coffee waited in a tall pot. He hoped a splash of strong brew would wash away the feelings the boy’s statement had brought to life.

Cale’s musing voice carried from the corner. “What was her name? Oh, I remember—Miss Hubley.”

Amos filled a cup to its brim. “Go to sleep, Cale.”

Dinah

“Oh, there they go …”

The longing in Ruthie’s voice pulled Dinah’s attention from window washing. She glanced sideways and found her roommate gazing up the road. Curious, she moved to the edge of the porch to see what Ruthie was watching. A few children trudged toward town with lunch pails swinging from their hands. Apparently, with harvest complete, school had started again.

Finding the realization uninteresting, Dinah returned to the bucket of soapy water and plunged her rag into it.

Ruthie heaved a mighty sigh and joined Dinah at the big window that looked into the guests’ dining room. “I miss going to school.”

Over the past few days, although the servers continued to hold their distance from Dinah, Ruthie had begun talking to her again. Dinah would never admit it aloud, but she appreciated the other girl’s willingness to jabber even though Dinah rarely contributed to the conversation. Listening to Ruthie kept other thoughts at bay. If only Ruthie’s jabber could make her night terrors flee. She rubbed the soapy cloth over the dusty window and waited for Ruthie to continue. The girl didn’t disappoint her.

“Some of my best memories are from my years in the Arnold Grade School.”

Some of Dinah’s most dismal memories were from her school years.

“And did you know I’m one of the first three twelfth-grade graduates from Florence High School? Mama says I should be very proud of that fact.”