Wolf Creek Wedding

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“On the contrary,” she argued, wondering how he’d lost his mother. “You deal with Him many times a day. Every day. Just look around you! It’s beautiful!” Abby spread her arms wide, encouraging him to look at the world around him, to see and acknowledge the glory of it all.

But Caleb wasn’t looking at the fallow fields or the red and gold of the changing leaves. He was looking at Abby. Bonnet-free, she had thrown back her head and lifted her face to the soft shine of the sun. A capricious breeze had tugged tendrils of blond hair from the coil at the nape of her neck and whipped delicate rose color into her cheeks. For the first time, he realized that Abigail Carter was a very pretty woman.

Caleb forced his eyes back to the road. “Yes. It is beautiful,” he said in a husky voice.

Abby glanced at him, saw the set of his jaw and decided that she’d said enough on the subject for the moment. She knew from past experience that the best way to teach was by example. There would be plenty of time to show him in small ways that God was present and working in his life.

* * *

Almost a week had gone by since she and Caleb had made the trip to her place. The intervening days had passed quickly, and things had been going as well as could be expected. Abby’s new routine had taken on a familiar rhythm as she grew accustomed to her new station in life and her new home. So far, neither Ben nor Laura had done anything else to antagonize the prickly Mr. Gentry.

As was her custom, Abby spent thirty minutes each night with Ben in Bible study. On two separate occasions, she had looked up and seen Caleb leaning against the doorjamb of his study, arms folded across his chest, listening as she read or questioned Ben about certain verses. He never commented, and on both occasions, he had quickly shut the door, bade them good-night and headed for the bunkhouse.

Today he was going into town for some feed and to pick up some pantry items Abby needed. When he came into the kitchen to tell her he was leaving, she said, “If you have time, I was wondering if you’d deliver a message for me.”

His eyebrows lifted in surprise, but he only nodded. “I’d be glad to.”

“I’m not used to dealing with this sort of thing, but I can. It’s just that William always did, and you’re familiar with business, so I thought...” She drew in another breath and rushed on. “I know it’s an imposition, certainly beyond what most employers would do, but it will be so hard for me to get away with the babies, and—”

“Stop dithering, woman, and spit it out,” Caleb said, scowling at her.

Abby’s eyes widened and she bit back a sharp retort. Dithering? Woman? She lowered her gaze to his shirtfront and struggled to keep her tone pleasant. “It’s just that...would you mind stopping at the bank to let Mr. Haversham know that I’m working for you now, and that I’ll start making up the back payments as soon as possible?”

Some emotion she couldn’t place flickered in Caleb’s gray eyes. “I’d be glad to,” he told her. “Anything else?”

“No. And thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

She watched the wagon disappear down the lane with a sigh of relief. He had agreed readily enough, and didn’t seem to mind any inconvenience it might cause. But it was business, after all, and business was something he understood well.

* * *

“How are things, Caleb?” Emily’s mother asked as he glanced over the list Abby had given him after making a thorough check of his pantry shelves.

What could he say to his dead wife’s mother? He suspected that neither Mary nor Bart suspected the true circumstances of his marriage and how even though he had more money but was self-educated, he had always felt intellectually inferior to Emily, who had received her education at a fancy girls’ school in St. Louis. He doubted they knew that Emily had taken far more joy from her drawing, reading and poetry writing than in making a home, or trying to build a marriage, so that when she had announced she was expecting a baby, it had come as a bit of a shock to them both.

Throughout the following months, her inability to come to terms with the whole idea of motherhood had left Caleb feeling as if he were solely to blame for her miserable pregnancy...and now her death. Thus the daily guilt he suffered.

Her dying had ended the steady ebb and flow of his life. Though Abby had a hot meal waiting for him when he returned to the house each evening, it was difficult for a man who liked the status quo to walk into the house and find strangers there. Being unable to enjoy the quiet peace and comfort of his home in the evenings made him nostalgic for the uncomplicated life he’d grown accustomed to during his marriage. Being with someone for six years forged habits and rituals that, when they ceased to exist, were missed nonetheless.

“I miss having her around,” he told them truthfully.

The smile on Mary Emerson’s face told him that his answer had pleased her, and that was all the thanks he needed.

Consulting Abby’s list, Mary helped him select some just-picked apples and a small tin of cinnamon. He had a hankering for an apple pie, and so far, Abby hadn’t balked at anything he’d suggested she fix, which, he had to admit, was a pleasant change.

“How is the arrangement with Abby Carter working out?” Bart Emerson asked, as if he could read his thoughts.

The troubled expression in the older man’s eyes warned Caleb that something was wrong. “As well as can be expected, I suppose,” he said, eyeing the older man thoughtfully. “What is it? I can tell something’s wrong.”

Bart cleared his throat. “I hate to mention it with everything you’ve been through lately, but you’ll find out soon enough, I reckon.”

“Spit it out,” Caleb said, leaning against the counter.

“Well, uh, there are some folks in town making a terrible fuss about Mrs. Carter staying at your place.”

Caleb’s dark eyes narrowed. “What do you mean, fuss?”

“They don’t think it’s right, both of you being single and living under one roof.”

Caleb swore beneath his breath. Though he was far from perfect and couldn’t claim to be religious, the maliciousness of some so-called Christians never failed to astound him.

“Don’t they know I just lost my wife, and I have a baby who needs to be fed every few hours?” he demanded. “Besides, Abby is newly widowed. And just for the record, I’m staying in the bunkhouse.”

“I know, I know,” Bart soothed. “You’d think they’d be more understanding what with Emily—” he cleared his throat “—and all. I’m thinking the problem is that Abby Carter is young and pretty. Maybe it would be different if she was old and ugly.”

“And if she was old, I wouldn’t need her, would I?” Caleb countered. He pinned Bart with a hard look. “Who exactly is ‘they’?”

“Several in town,” Bart hedged. “But the main one is Sarah VanSickle.”

“The biggest gossip in three counties,” Caleb muttered. He slapped his list onto the counter. “When I leave here, I have some business to see about for Abby, and then I’ll go have a talk with Sarah.”

“It won’t do any good,” Mary said. “She’d just make something of that. She’s like a spoon, Caleb. She likes keeping things stirred up. The best thing to do is ignore it.”

“Ignore it? That’s easier said than done. I don’t fancy being grist for the town’s gossip mill, and I suspect Abby won’t like it, either.”

“I suppose not,” Mary said, frowning. “Will you tell her?”

“No!” Caleb said in near panic. “She might decide to leave, and there’s no way I could manage without her just now.”

“I see your predicament, son, but you really ought to tell her before she finds out from someone else,” Bart reasoned. “It’s just a matter of time before Sarah’s poison makes its way through the whole county.”

Caleb hadn’t thought of that, but knew Bart was right. He couldn’t let Abby come to town and face the gossips without even preparing her, but how would he tell her? What would her reaction be? Furious and fearing he already knew the answer to that, he ground his teeth. Was anything in life ever easy?

* * *

It was almost dark when Caleb pulled the wagon to the rear of the house. The temperature was dropping since the sun had gone down, and he shivered, dreading the conversation to come. The feeling of trepidation vanished somewhat the moment he opened the back door and felt the tide of warm, cooking-scented air rush out to meet him. Breathing in the delicious aromas, he shifted the heavy sack of flour from his shoulder to the floor. Venison. Purple hull peas. Cornbread. Every night since Abby had come to stay he’d come in at suppertime to find something simmering on the back the stove.

Never much of a cook, Emily had stopped all attempts to do so when she’d announced her pregnancy, complaining of nausea, backaches and a general malaise. Soon she declared she was unable to do anything but knit and read, and in the subtle way she had, she made him feel like pond scum for putting her in her delicate condition. Rather than let the whole town know the situation, Caleb himself did what cooking and cleaning was to be done. Coming in and finding dinner waiting was nice, cooked by a stranger or not.

“How were the Emersons?” Abby said, setting the plates on the round oak table.

“Fine.”

“Did you get the apples?”

He nodded. “Just picked.”

“Wonderful.” They sat down to eat, Ben said the prayer and after a few more questions that received short answers, Abby deduced that Caleb was not in the mood for any type of conversation and stopped talking except to ask if she could pass him any more food.

When the awkward meal was finished, she put Laura in the square, quilt-lined “pen” William had made for her and gave Ben a piece of butterscotch Mary had thoughtfully sent. Abby told him to eat it on the porch and to get ready for bed as soon as he was finished. Caleb helped clear the table, something he’d gotten used to doing while fending for himself and continued to do for Abby.

He was setting a glass into the dishwater when she turned suddenly, a frown on her face. She was so close that he could see the almost-purple flecks in her blue eyes. So close he could smell the faint scent of the gardenia-scented soap she used for bathing. The sudden rush of awareness that jolted through him caught him off guard. Bart was right. Abby Carter was pretty. Very pretty. The revelation was swept away on another tidal wave of guilt. He took a sudden step back. What was the matter with him? His wife dead not two weeks, and he already found himself responding to the nearness of another woman!

“You seem distracted, Caleb. Is something wrong? Did Mr. Haversham refuse to discuss the farm?”

“No,” Caleb said, thankful to turn his thoughts to something else. “As a matter of fact, he said he’d drop by on Sunday afternoon on his way back from his daughter’s.”

“Good,” she said, but the worry stayed in her eyes. “Do you think he’ll be open to what I have to say?”

Careful not to look at her, he wrapped the leftover cornbread in a flour-sack dish towel and lifted his wide shoulders in a shrug. “I didn’t get into things with him, but Nate’s a fair man, so I’m inclined to think he’ll listen with an open mind.”

“That’s a relief.” Neither spoke for several seconds.

“Abby, I—”

“Caleb, what—”

They both started to speak at once.

“Ladies first.”

“It’s just that something’s wrong,” she said, her blue eyes worry-filled. “I can tell. Did Ben—”

Caleb’s first thought was that it was amazing that she could read his mood after less than two weeks, something Emily had never been able to do. “Ben’s done nothing that I know about.”

“Then what?”

He drew a deep breath, crossed his arms over his chest and plunged. “There’s gossip in town.”

“Gossip? About what?”

“Us. It seems Sarah VanSickle and some of the others in town think it’s morally indecent for us to be living in the same house.”

“But I go to church with Sarah,” Abby said, as if the statement would negate the whole affair.

“If that old battle-ax is a Christian, I want no part of it.”

“None of us is perfect, Caleb, and you’d do well to think twice about throwing out the baby with the bathwater.”

Though she said the right thing, in her heart, she wanted to go to Sarah, confront her about her vicious character attacks and demand an accounting. Had the spiteful woman given any serious thought to her actions? Did she have any idea of the harm she was causing two innocent people—even more if you considered the children? Abby blinked back the sting of tears. As much as she might want to confront her accuser, she knew she wouldn’t.

A sudden thought occurred to her. “Caleb, we aren’t living in the same house! If we make that clear, everyone will understand.”

Caleb set the towel-wrapped bread in the pie safe, rested his elbow across its corner and regarded her with angry gray eyes. “Believe me, that was the first thing I pointed out to Mary and Bart, but they reminded me that a trifling thing like the truth does not matter one bit to Sarah. As a matter of fact, she’s notorious about never letting facts get in the way of her maliciousness.”

Abby cradled her hot cheeks in her palms. While the unwarranted accusations infuriated Caleb, the tears swimming in her eyes said she was more hurt and embarrassed than angry. He thrust his hands into his front pockets and stared out the window at the darkness, wondering what he could do to fix the mess they found themselves in.

“Do you think there are other people in town who feel the same way?” she asked.

He shot her a look that said he couldn’t believe her naïveté. “Count on it.”

“Well, then, I’ll leave first thing in the morning,” she said firmly, as if the decision would put an end to the whole matter.

“You will not!”

Shocked by his vehemence, she shook her head and said, “It’s the only thing we can do. My reputation is at stake. So is yours.”

“I’m not worried about my reputation,” he said, a muscle in his lean jaw tightening. “People have been talking about the Gentrys for years. But I am concerned about you. And I’m very concerned about my daughter.”

He took a breath and let it out slowly, as if he were trying to release the tension holding him. The fierce look in his eyes softened a bit as they met Abby’s. “Look, we’ve already been through all this and decided this is the best way.”

“But that was before Sarah’s accusations.”

“I understand, but we don’t need to let her wreck a perfectly good partnership. Why don’t we both sleep on it tonight. Things always look better in daylight. Maybe we’ll dream up some way to resolve things that even Sarah VanSickle can’t argue with.”

Chapter Four

Abby lay quietly in her bed, the covers clutched in her fists, and tried to keep from flipping and flopping and waking Ben, who slept beside her. Though Sarah VanSickle’s reputation as an inveterate gossip preceded her, the fact that Abby herself was now bearing the brunt of that hatefulness was a definite shock. The situation with Caleb was not what she would have chosen, but there was no denying that the opportunity to get her life in order had come along at a perfect time, and had seemed like the answer to her prayers. But if that were so, why was it being jeopardized by senseless gossip?

Dear God, what am I to do?

God was silent.

The faint fingers of dawn were poking through the window when she finally drifted off to sleep, tears of hopelessness drying on her cheeks as she faced the only moral decision possible. As much as Caleb might dislike her decision, as soon as she could gather her things, she was going back to her own farm.

With or without his daughter.

* * *

Being a man who preferred action, Caleb paced the path from the bunkhouse to the house over and over. He vacillated from self-pity over Emily’s death and his current situation to fury at Sarah VanSickle for making an already bad situation worse. He wasn’t sure why he was so surprised by the unexpected turn of events. Hadn’t he always been the one saddled with the responsibility of doing the right thing?

As the older son of Lucas Gentry, it had fallen to Caleb to follow in his father’s footsteps, while Gabe played the spoiled, pampered son. Though both boys were required to work the farm, more often than not, Gabe’s contribution had been to keep everyone laughing at his jokes and antics, while Caleb was expected to toe the line and pick up the slack left by his younger brother. Caleb was the one who worked the longest hours and took the tongue-lashings and razor strap beatings, the one forced to learn farming from the ground up, including how to manage the soil and take care of the books. His father’s demands left no time for fun, something Gabe enjoyed to the fullest.