Circle of Love (13 page)

A brawny man with a gray beard slowly unwound his long legs and raised himself from a low upholstered chair to greet her.

"I'd like you to meet Sheriff Duncan, from over in Clay County, Miss KeUy," Sheriff Malloy said. "I've been fillin' him in on Seth Connally, in case he shows up in western Missouri."

Sheriff Duncan's voice rumbled deep within his throat. "Pleased to meet you, Miss Kelly. We'll do our best to catch Connally. Don't you worry none."

*Thank you," FYances murmured. She fumbled with the chair where Sarah directed her to sit, hoping that she wouldn't be asked about Seth.' What could she tell them? That he was a bitter, unforgiving man bent on revenge? No. There was more than that. There was still goodness within Seth. He had proved it when he had done as she'd asked and hadn't taken Eddie.

Sheriff Malloy sniffed appreciatively at the steaming platter of fried chicken, bowed his head, and said a very quick grace.

Plates were passed to be filled, and Frances was gratified to see that Eddie began eating without hesitation. He appeared to be bouncing back from the

hurt of not being chosen at this first stop. He'd be in good spirits tomorrow, she was sure.

During dinner the two men dominated the conversation. Between mouthfuls, Sheriff Duncan began talking about the robbery of the Clay County Savings Association back in February.

"It was one of the first bank robberies for Frank and Jesse James and their gang," Sheriff Malloy added.

"Now, wait. There's some doubt the James gang were the ones who done it," Sheriff Duncan told him. "We've got witnesses that swore Frank was in Kentucky at the time and Jesse was home sick in bed."

"Nobody on the scene recognized the James brothers?"

"Oh, sure. We got witnesses who'll swear the boys were there. We just have to figger who's tellin' the truth and who isn't"

Eddie, obviously fascinated by what the men were saying, looked back and forth from one to the other. Frances sighed. This was not the kind of conversation an impressionable young boy should be hearing.

Sheriff Malloy chuckled. "Maybe you should get Wild Bill Hickok into it. You heard what just happened over in Springfield, didn't you?"

"About him shootin' somebody named Tutt who won Bill's watch fair and square in a poker game?"

"Yeah. The way I heard it, the next day he stood at the comer of the public square, right smack in the middle of the city, and waited two hours for Tutt to come by. Called him out and shot him in the heart."

Eddie gasped, and his mouth dropped open.

"When's Bill going to be up for trial?"

"I don't know, but chances are he'll be acquitted Tutt could have been lucky and got off the first shot"

Frances put down her fork. "He killed a man over a watch?" she asked indignantly.

'There was an argument somewhere in there, too," Sheriff Duncan said.

"No matter," frances said. "He killed a man. He should go to prison."

"We're talldng about WUd Bill Hickok, ma'am," Sheriff Duncan said in surprise. "He's pretty well known for helping to bring law and order all the way into Kansas. Surely you've heard of him."

"Yes, I have, but it doesn't matter how well known he is," Frances said. "A murderer should go to jail."

Sheriff Dimcan spoke slowly, as though he were trying to explain something difficult to understand. "But it wasn't murder, ma'am. It was a call-out Either man could have shot first Bill did. Tutt didn't It was as simple as that."

Eddie nodded solemnly, along with the men.

"Kill or be killed?" Frances asked. 'That's not what life is all about"

Sheriff Malloy broke in by speaking to his friend. "Women don't understand these things," he said. "I think Sarah's even given up tryin'. So there's no use explainin'."

Frances glanced at Sarah. "I'm very tired," she said. "May I please be excused? Eddie, too?"

"I'm not tired," Ekidie said. He edged his chair a little closer to Sheriff Duncan's.

"Yes, you are," Frances told him. "And we have to rise early tomorrow to get under way."

Sarah said, "Make yourself comfortable in the girls' room. The girls will share the bottom half of the

trundle bed. You take the top. Til make a pallet for Eddie near the fireplace."

"But Tm not sleepy," Eddie complained.

"Good," Sarah said. "Then you can help the girls wash the dishes."

Satisfied that Eddie wouldn't be subjected to an evening filled with stories about outlaws, Frances left the room. After she removed her tightly laced corset, she happily rubbed her back and sighed with relief. She changed into a nightdress and robe and washed her face and arms. It was the first time she'd been able to change her clothing since she'd left New York City.

Before she crawled into bed under one of Sarah's neatly pieced quilts, Frances opened her journal. In the light from an oil lamp she wrote about what had happened on the train, and she wrote about the children who had been chosen. Then she wrote about what she had been longing to write about but had pushed aside—her love for Johnny.

Johnny and Seth — they're so much alike in spite of being Union and Confederate in their feelings. If they had met on a battlefield, they would have tried to kill each other. If I tried to point out similarities, they'd hotly deny they had anything in common. Yet both are wrapped up in cocoons of resentment and hatred. Nothing else seems important to them. Seth's goal is revenge, and I pray that Johnny doesn't take the same path.

Johnny refused me, so in turn I refused him. Was I right to do so? I don't want to lose him. I can't.

Isn't love stronger than hatred? I just hope that somehow I'll have the chance to prove this is true.

At midmoming, after a hearty breakfast, Frances and Eddie returned to the depot, accompanied by Sheriff Malloy.

He plopped down on the platform a heavy basket of fresh biscuits, cheese, and apple cake that Sarah had packed for the children and surveyed the area around the depot. "Sarah doesn't understand I can't be a packhorse and a watchdog, too," he said. "You don't see Connally around, do you?"

"No," Frances answered.

The sheriff kept his eyes on the window in the small building and added, "FU just have a quick look-around."

Many of the children had already arrived. Frances greeted them eagerly, then thanked the kind people who had given them shelter for the night.

Soon all the names on her list had been checked except one—that of five-year-old Walter Emerich.

"I can't leave without Walter," Frances told Sheriff Malloy. "Is there someone we could send after him?"

The sheriff smiled and pointed up the road. "There's Jake and Effie Kleinhurst coming now, and they've got a little boy with them. Is that Walter?"

"Yes," Frances said. "Thank goodness!"

As Jake Kleinhurst stopped the wagon, his wife jumped out, not waiting to be helped. She picked up her skirts and ran through the dust toward Frances. She was a small, thin woman, and she shyly ducked her head as she said, "I'd thought about asking for one of the children, but I wasn't sure if we should or not. I didn't know how it would turn out. What if the child wasn't happy? Or what if Jake and me weren't happy?"

In the distance a train whistle blew, and the chil-

dren clustered more tightly around Frances. Jake, with Walter in tow, hurried to join his wife. "Come out with it, Effie," Jake said.

Effie Kleinhurst raised her voice and spoke rapidly. "Please, miss. Walter is the child Jake and I have dreamed of having. Please . . . it's not too late, is it? May we take Walter to raise?"

Frances smiled at Walter. "Is this what you'd like, Walter?"

"Yes," Walter said, and he raised his arms to Jake. "Pick me up, Papa," he said.

"I'll vouch for the Kleinhursts," Sheriff Malloy told Frances. "They've got a good-size farm, and they'll make the boy happy."

Jake's face reddened with pleasure. "I'm gonna get Walter a pony," he said.

Frances rummaged through her carpetbag, found the right papers, and, with the Kleinhursts' help, filled them out just as the train chugged into the depot.

She hugged Walter goodbye and helped the other children up the steps into one of the cars. "It's a short trip," she told them. "We'll be in Springbrook soon after lunch."

While the children settled into their seats, Frances quickly glanced around the car. Don't be ridiculous, she told herself as she realized she'd been looking for Seth.

Sheriff Malloy put the heavy basket next to the rack for baggage and shook Frances's hand. "You be careful, now, y'hear?" he said.

"I will," Frances told him.

"I'm wiUin' to bet you haven't seen the last of that young man."

Frances didn't answer, but she secretly agreed. Last night she'd been sure that Seth would wait until

she'd arrived home—^that is, if he decided to put in an appearance—^but now she wasn't so positive. Seth was impulsive, and he would be angry. It was possible that he'd intercept her en route.

"The conductor's goin' to watch out for you, and I telegraphed the sheriff's department near Spring-brook to keep an^eye on you and the boy while you're there," Sheriff Malloy assured her.

*Thank you," Frances said, trying to keep her voice from trembling. "But I don't think we'll have any trouble."

"Maybe not," Sheriff Malloy said, "but it's best to keep an eye out for it and head it off before it gets started."

Irrationally, Frances wanted to laugh after he left the railway car. The sheriff sounded as if he were reporting an approaching storm. In his own way, Seth is a storm, she realized, and for the first time she wondered what she'd say or do if he suddenly appeared.

The twelve children making the second lap of the journey were quiet and almost too well-behaved. Frances knew they were worried about having to go through the selection process a second time, and she wished it were in her power to ensure that every one of them would find a happy home. She told them stories she invented on the spot; she sang to them; and she made up riddles. She played a form of "I Spy with My Little Eye" with the farm animals and objects they could see from the windows, but those who joined in did so halfheartedly. It was obvious that their minds were on the coming ordeal.

At one point Frances felt that she was being watched, and she glanced up quickly. Near the back of the car, on the aisle, a pair of eyes looked back at her from under a flat, broad-brimmed black hat.

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The man sat slumped down in his seat, his legs stretched out under the seat in front of him. A tattered Confederate jacket lay across his chest as a blanket, and its collar hid the lower part of his face,

Seth? Frances looked away. For a moment she felt faint, and her hands trembled.

"Miss Kelly, I'm hungry," Daisy complained

Her voice broke the spell, and Frances pulled herself back to the job at hand.

Frances opened the basket and let Aggie pass the food to the children. Frances's mind raced. FU ignore him. The man couldn't be Seth . . . or covM he? If he is Seth, why is he here? What does he want? Maybe — if he is Seth — I can convince him, to give himself up.

Frances gave a small groan. She couldn't bear not knowing. There's only one thing to do, and that's confront him, she thought

She straightened and took two steps down the aisle before she saw that the man had left She walked to the empty seat, looking for Seth's familiar carpetbag, but there was no sign that anyone had ever been there.

"Pardon me, sir," she said to the gentleman in the high collar and tightly buttoned suit jacket who sat by the window. "Can you tell me, please, the name of the gentleman who was sharing this seat with you?"

The man looked surprised, then shrugged. "Didn't pay him much attention," he said. "He got on the train the same stop you did. That's all I know."

Puzzled, Frances returned to the children. It wasn't likely the man had jumped off the moving train. He'd probably just moved to another car. And he most likely wasn't Seth at all but just another ex-soldier making his way home.

Eveiy few minutes one of the children would ask, "Will it be long until we get to Springbrook?" or "Are we almost there now?"

"In a little while," she answered over and over again. "In just a little while."

Finally it was time to brush hair and straighten jackets.

Belle smiled shyly. "Miss Kelly, the ribbon you gave me got lost somewhere."

"Belle loses everything," Jessie piped up.

"Do not."

"Do too."

"We have more ribbons," Frances said. She handed one to Belle, then retied the drooping bow in Daisy's hair.

Frances glanced over at Aggie. "Would you like a ribbon, Aggie? IVe got a lovely white ribbon that would match the collar on your dress."

Aggie shook her head angrily. "I don't need a ribbon. Are people going to want me just because Fm wearing a ribbon?"

"Miss Kelly wants to make your hair look better," Jessie said, "although I don't think anything will help."

Aggie would have fit into Sheriff Malloy's storm prediction. Her eyebrows dipped in a scowl, and her cheeks turned red.

Frances put an arm around Aggie's shoulders. As she smoothed Aggie's skirts, she skillfully turned her so that her back was to Jessie. "You look perfectly lovely," she said.

Aggie's anger hadn't abated. "People aren't supposed to want to adopt me because of what I'm like on the outside. They're supposed to care about what's on the inside. They're supposed to care about me!"

Frances looked deeply into Aggie's eyes. "You're

right," she said, "and that's the way you're supposed to care about them.''

Flustered, Aggie took a step backward. The anger had disappeared, replaced by confusion.

Maybe I've given her a new direction to think about, Frances thought hopefully.

The conductpr strode through the car. "Spring-brook, next stop. Springbrook, jfive minutes."

Frances made sure all their baggage was piled by the door, and as soon as the train stopped, she led the children to the platform.

As before, a number of people were clustered on the platform, waiting for the children to arrive. A tall, thin woman stepped forward and thrust out her hand. "Miss KeUy? Fm Isabelle Domain, chairman of the placing-out committee," she said. *The train will be here in Springbrook for half an hour, so well do the choosing right here and now on the platform and get the waifs no one wants back on board."