Echoes of Mercy: A Novel (24 page)

Through his blurry vision, he witnessed Carrie bending over him, horror on her face. “Dear Lord in heaven, what did I do? Ollie! Ollie, are you all right?”

His head hurt so badly he wished she’d knocked him unconscious. Unfortunately, he felt every fierce throb. He moaned, “Don’t you know how to knock?”

“I’m so sorry. Here, let me help you.”

He wasn’t entirely sure he wanted her help, but he didn’t resist when she took his hands and pulled him into a sitting position. He bent his knees and pressed his palms against the crusty floor to give himself a more secure base. How could his head spin so wildly and remain attached to his shoulders?

She caught his chin between her fingers and angled his face toward the weak band of sunlight flowing through the open door. She grimaced. “You’re going to have a black eye, I’m afraid. It’s already swelling and turning colors.”

“Dandy.” Oliver gingerly fingered the knot forming on the back of his head. No blood, so he hadn’t broken the skin, but it stung like fury. At least if that spot bruised, his hair would cover it. Maybe he shouldn’t have shaved off his whiskers after all.

Carrie wrung her hands, deep furrows lining her brow. “Do you think you can stand?”

“I’m not even sure I can think.” Rolling onto one hip, he caught hold of the bench, and then he slowly pulled himself upright. He wobbled, but he managed to keep his footing. He sucked in several deep breaths, willing the throbbing in his head to abate.

Once he’d proved his ability to stand, Carrie seemed to lose her deep concern for him. She leaned sideways, peering past him first on one side, then the other. She turned a frown on him. “The children aren’t here?”

“They
were
here. But when I showed up, they went out the window.”

Her eyes flew wide, just as the children’s had when he’d burst in on them. “You let them go?”

Oliver cupped the side of his head and scowled at her as best he could through his swollen eye. “I might have caught them had you not knocked me flat.”

She grabbed his hand and pulled him out the door. “Come on! We have to find them!”

The rapid movement brought a new rush of dizziness. He yanked free of her grasp and caught hold of the porch post. He clung, panting. “I … I can’t run. Not yet.” Closing his eyes, he waited for the spinning to pass. “Go ahead on your own. They can’t have gotten far.”

He expected to hear her receding footsteps, but instead the porch boards bounced beneath his soles. An arm slipped around his waist. He popped his eyes open—well, one of them—and looked into her upturned, penitent face.

“I’m truly sorry I hit you with the door. It was an accident.”

“I know.” He draped his arm over her shoulders and allowed her to lead him off the porch. They moved slowly across the bare, muddy yard toward the road.

“I’ll take you to Kesia’s and have her see to your injuries. I’m sure some of the regulars there will be willing to form a search party and help me find the children. Then you can rest.”

Rest sounded good. He couldn’t recall ever experiencing such an intense headache. “Thank you, Carrie.”

“It’s the least I can do.”

“I should say so.”

She shot a startled look at him, but she apparently saw the grin twitching his lips, because she released a light, airy laugh. “I suppose if you can tease, it means you’re going to live after all.”

“Unfortunately, I believe I shall live, although I dare confess, given the incredible discomfort now pervading my skull, a lack of consciousness is much preferred.”

She drew him to a stop. “Ollie, are you still teasing?”

He blinked at her, confused. “What?”

She shook her head. “Never mind. Let’s get you to Kesia’s.”

He’d done it again—slipped into a mode of speech incompatible with that of a laborer. In fact, he’d just delivered one of the most eloquently phrased statements she’d ever heard. Would a bang on the head cause a tongue to form flowery locution? She’d not encountered such an odd reaction to a head injury in the past, and given her line of work, she’d delivered her fair share of clops to others’ heads. But this was her first unintentional one. She only wished Ollie hadn’t been the victim of her ill-timed burst through that doorway.

The moment they crossed the threshold of Kesia’s café, the owner rushed to them, hands outstretched.

“Oh, just look at your poor face!” Kesia curled her arm around Ollie’s waist on the other side and guided him to the closest stool, which happened to be occupied. “Rupert, shift offa there an’ let this poor boy sit. Why, he must’ve been besieged by bandits!”

Caroline cringed. “No bandits, Kesia. Just a door.”

“And a bench,” Ollie added, dropping onto the stool. He placed his bent elbow on the counter and rested his head in the V.

Kesia looked from Ollie to Caroline, her face registering bafflement. “Have all his senses been knocked loose?”

Caroline quickly explained the circumstances of Ollie’s injuries, including their pursuit of the Holcomb children.

Kesia shook her head, clicking her tongue on her teeth. “Such a sad situation all the way around. A father gone, a man wounded, an’ children wanderin’ around sad an’ lost. Gonna be spendin’ time on my knees over these situations, I can assure you.”

Caroline left Ollie in Kesia’s care and turned to the men seated around the counter. “As I just told Kesia, the two little boys who have been taking their meals here and their older sister are missing. They’ve run away.” How it hurt to know they’d run from her. She pushed aside her bruised feelings and used her briskest, most professional tone. “I would very much appreciate assistance in locating them. Would any of you be willing to aid in the search?”

The men muttered, looking at each other or down at their plates.

Kesia smacked her palm on the counter, and the men all jumped. “Listen here, you well-fed bunch o’ ne’er-do-wells. If you ever want to taste my peach pie or apple cobbler again, you’ll hop down off them stools an’ turn this city upside down. ’cause I’m tellin’ you right now, until those youngsters are safe under Miss Carrie’s roof, my stove won’t be holdin’ one pan o’ baked goods!”

“Aw, Kesia,” one of the men groaned, “you can’t mean that. We don’t even know those young uns.”

She jammed her fists on her hips and bounced a fierce glare across each face. “That don’t matter. The Good Book says, ‘Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.’ You wanna try explainin’ to the Lord Almighty why you’re turnin’ your back on some o’ His precious children?”

Mutters rolled around the room.

Kesia pointed her finger at the door, her double chin quivering. “Now, every last one o’ you, get out there an’ find those young uns! The man who hauls ’em here to me’ll be rewarded with a triple-layer sour cream cake.”

The man who’d previously argued sat up straight. “With chocolate icin’?”

“On top an’ between the layers.”

With a whoop he leaped off the stool and scrambled for the door. The others swarmed after him.

Kesia turned a triumphant smile on Caroline. “That’s how you get things done.” Then she placed her hand on Caroline’s arm, her expression serious. “Sure am sorry to hear about Mr. Holcomb dyin’. The Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh away. I’d hoped He might answer our prayers on the givin’ side this time.” She sighed, and tears welled in her eyes. “What’ll those poor children do without him?”

“They have an aunt in Baldwin City,” Caroline said, hoping to comfort Kesia. “I’ve contacted her, and I trust she’ll come. She’s reluctant. According to Letta, she hasn’t seen the family in several years. But they are her brother’s children. Surely when she meets them and sees what fine children they are, she’ll have a change of heart and decide to give them a home.”

“I’ll surely be prayin’ for that.” Kesia returned to Ollie, touching his shoulder. “An’ as for you, my dear Ollie, I’m thinkin’ a cold rag on that bruise’ll do you some good.”

Ollie didn’t lift his head. “Thank you, Kesia. I shall welcome your ministrations.”

Kesia’s fuzzy eyebrows lowered into a sharp V. “Huh?”

Caroline pursed her lips and shook her head. She pointed to her own temple, then Ollie’s, sending a silent message to the older woman.

Kesia angled an odd look in Ollie’s direction, but then she shrugged. “Carrie, you gonna go hunt our missin’ youngsters?”

With the men eager to earn their sour-cream-cake reward, Caroline trusted the search to them. “No, ma’am. I need to arrange their father’s burial and visit the telegraph office to check for a reply from their aunt.” And from Noble as well. She eased her way to the door. “I’ll come back later to see how Ollie fares. Hopefully someone will have located the children by then. If so, please keep them here until I return.”

“Oh, I’ll hang on to them rascals. I’ll tie ’em to the stools if I hafta.”

Caroline laughed. “I doubt that will be necessary. Ply them with cookies, and they’ll stay.” Kesia waved her out the door, and Caroline headed for the undertaker’s. But halfway there, she changed course and went to the telegraph office instead. If the children’s aunt was coming, she should make the funeral arrangements for her brother.

A sense of unease filled her. She couldn’t quite determine the reason for her discomfort, but she knew it related to the children’s aunt. As Noble and Annamarie had taught her, she turned her concern into a prayer.

Lord, work Your will with the children and their aunt. Letta, Lank, and Lesley need someone to care for them, but if this woman isn’t meant to be the one, please make that clear. But please move swiftly. My time here is nearing its end, and I can’t leave them unless I know they’ll be all right
.

Noble and Annamarie’s train was scheduled to arrive Tuesday morning, so Caroline stayed awake to meet them at the station. The past few days she’d caught only snatches of sleep, and one more day of wakefulness couldn’t do much more damage.

She walked to the station, her breath forming little clouds of condensation. The weekend’s rain had brought fall temperatures, and even though it was only the end of October, the air held a nip that reminded Caroline of snow. Letta, Lank, and Lesley scuffed along behind her, keeping just out of arm’s reach. The children, having been located by one of Kesia’s most loyal customers and brought back in disgrace, hadn’t spoken a word to her since their return. She blamed their closed mouths and hunched shoulders on the cold, but inwardly she knew she was being punished for some unknown misdeed.

Caroline prayed that Noble or Annamarie, with their experience in reaching out to troubled children, might work a miracle and heal whatever had been damaged between the trio of red-headed waifs and herself. She also hoped Noble would offer advice on how to respond to the telegram she’d received from Gertrude in Baldwin City. Such a terse message: “Send them on next train.” Send them? To a complete stranger? And without a chaperone? Any number of dangers could befall three children traveling alone. Caroline had sent yet another message, politely requesting the woman make her own travel plans to retrieve the children, but as yet no reply had arrived.

She glanced over her shoulder at Letta. The girl held her head low, her lips set in a grim line. Should she have shared the telegram with Letta? She’d kept it secret, believing the girl had enough worries without fearing she and her
brothers would be sent to the aunt they hadn’t seen since she was a small girl. Maybe asking Letta’s feelings about her aunt’s message would allow them to talk freely again, the way they had before.

At least Letta had participated in choosing a location for her father in the paupers’ graveyard east of town. She’d selected a spot beneath a towering oak tree. Although now almost barren of leaves, come spring the tree would provide a lovely canopy. There’d be no marker and not even a coffin. Instead, the hospital mortuary had wrapped his body in strips of cloth cut from tattered white sheets. But the chapel minister, Reverend Willoughby, had agreed to meet them that afternoon and speak some words, giving the children at least the semblance of a service.