Wolf Creek Wedding. Penny Richards
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“I won’t sugarcoat things,” Rachel said with a grim smile and her customary honesty. “Caleb is a decent man, and I think folks who have business dealings with him would call him a fair man, but make no mistake, he is also a hard man and he doesn’t suffer fools gladly. I’d be less than a friend if I told you the next few months will be easy...for either of you.”
Abby broke off a piece of cookie, her lips curving in a wry smile. “Believe me, I know that.”
She popped the piece of cookie into her mouth and Rachel sighed. “Somehow I feel guilty for putting you in this position, even though my intentions were the best.”
Abby smiled. “I know that, too.”
Once Rachel had gone back to town, Abby sat down on the bench next to her son, took Laura on her lap and handed Ben another cookie to help soften him up for the news she was about to impart. She decided to begin with the lesser of the two concerns. “The figurine that got broken belonged to Mr. Gentry’s mother,” she said. “It was very special to him. What happened, Ben?”
“It was an accident,” he told her, his blue eyes earnest. “You told me to be good and mind my manners, and I was trying. Dr. Rachel put Laura on the floor and told me to keep an eye on her. I was afraid Laura would get into something she shouldn’t, so I was trying to watch her.” He took a huge bite of cookie, as if he needed to fortify himself.
Good intentions, then, Abby thought with a feeling of relief.
“She was crawling around, and then she sat up real fast, and when she did, she bumped the table and the next thing I knew we were in trouble.”
“What did Mr. Gentry say?”
Ben shrugged. “Nothing much. He told me to sit down and then sat there just looking at me. I don’t like him,” Ben said. “I want to go home.”
Abby uttered a silent prayer for guidance. “We need to talk about that, Ben.” How did she explain the direness of their situation in a way he could understand without getting into past-due notes and bank foreclosures?
Loosing another sigh, she said, “I know you realize how hard it has been for us since your father died, and how I try to do not only my work but what I can of his, too. And you know how tired and cranky I’ve been sometimes.”
Ben gave a solemn nod and finished off the last of his cookie.
“Before we came, I told you that Mr. Gentry’s wife died today.”
Another nod of understanding. “Well, Mr. Gentry is in the same position that I am in—needing to be both mother and father.” How to explain in more detail? “Husbands and wives are partners.”
“Partners are people who work together toward the same goal,” Ben said.
“Yes.” Abby smiled her approval. Every day, she tried to give him a new word definition and encouraged him to use the word as often as possible to build his vocabulary. Partners had been the word several weeks ago.
“In the case of marriage, that goal is to be a happy, healthy family who believes in truth and honesty and responsibility and hard work, one that puts God first. In most circumstances, the father is responsible for the hard, outside work like plowing and putting up hay and chopping firewood, as well as handling the money and seeing to the bills. The mother is responsible for taking care of the home and the children, the cooking and cleaning...that sort of thing. Though,” she added, “in some cases, like ours and Mr. Gentry’s, it becomes necessary for one parent to take on the duties of both parents, the way I’ve been trying to do.”
Her faltering smile was sorrow-filled. How could she tell him that her present circumstance was due in part to William’s inexperience, which had forced him to borrow from the bank? Or how she had sold almost everything she owned of value to try to satisfy the loan? She couldn’t. Not now or ever. Ben had adored his father, and she would not be the one to say anything to lessen that feeling.
Her voice was thick with unshed tears when she spoke. “I’ve been having a hard time dealing with your father’s responsibilities, Ben, and I’ll be frank, I’m not doing a very good job.”
“I think you’re doing fine,” he said. “I’ll bet Mr. Gentry won’t do nearly as good a job of being both parents as you do.”
“Thank you, Ben. And that’s the thing. Mr. Gentry already knows he can’t do a good job as Betsy’s mother.” Dear Lord, help me find the words. “Men just aren’t...equipped with the right...trappings...to be a mother. That’s why Dr. Rachel came to me. Mr. Gentry would like for me—us—to stay here for a while so I can take care of Betsy.”
Abby watched Ben’s lower lip jut out and his eyes take on a familiar belligerence.
“It won’t be forever,” she hastened to say. “Just until Betsy gets a bit older, or until Mr. Gentry finds someone else. Until springtime, maybe. He and I will be partners, in a way. He will take care of our place and our animals, and I will take care of him and Betsy and the household chores. He will pay me a wage, just as if I had a job in town at the mercantile or the restaurant, and that money will help me take care of our obligations. That can be our word for the day.
“Obligations are things that are our responsibilities. Like what I was talking about when I described the duties of fathers and mothers. Parents have the obligation to bring up children to be good, God-fearing citizens. You are responsible for keeping your room clean and setting the table and feeding the animals and milking Nana. When I tell you to keep an eye on Laura, it is your obligation to see that she’s safe. Sometimes, obligations involve money. Things we must pay for.”
There! She had prepared him as best she could, though she felt she had done a poor job of it. To his credit, Ben did not spout off or throw a fit. Only the downward turn of his mouth and his refusal to meet her gaze spoke of his misery. Finally, he looked up at her.
“Like buying eggs when the hens stop laying and sugar and flour and coffee?” he asked.
“Yes.” And shoes and shirts and medicine when your children get sick, Abby thought as she pulled him close to her side. “I have always been as truthful with you as I have felt you could understand, so I will not lie to you now. This will be hard on all of us.”
Ben pulled away and regarded her with a solemn expression. “It won’t be hard on Mr. Gentry. He doesn’t have to live somewhere different.”
“Actually, he does,” Abby said with a gentle smile. “He won’t be staying in his house while we’re here. He’ll be moving into the bunkhouse with his hired men. He will just take his meals here and use his office when necessary. That’s quite a sacrifice for him, as well as having people he doesn’t even know taking over his home. And we mustn’t forget that his wife just died. I want you to think about how you felt when your father passed away. You were sad and angry with him and God for at least a month, and you took it out on your sister. Remember?”
Ben nodded.
Abby smiled and brushed back a lock of his fine blond hair. “Just remember that Mr. Gentry may be feeling the same way for a while, and try to be patient and forgiving. Can you do that?”
“I’ll try.”
“That’s all I ask,” Abby said.
She gave him a final hug and stood. As they were about to leave the kitchen, Caleb came through the door, looking rugged and unyielding, his arms laden with things she’d brought from her own kitchen. He set a loaf of bread wrapped in a clean dish towel onto the table next to the basket of cookies, and put a heavy cast-iron kettle of squirrel and dumplings on the stove.
“I’ve put your things in your room.”
“Thank you,” Abby said.
“Would you mind if Ben and Laura sleep with you for a day or two? I’ll have to move some things from Emily’s room into the attic for Ben to have his own room.”
“That