Frontier Want Ad Bride

Chapter Four

Out of the forest, swishing through the ankle-deep just-greening wild grass, Judith led the children the last few feet into her clearing, praying that Asa, taken by surprise, would not say or do anything that would frighten them away. With regret, she again scolded herself that he wouldn’t if she’d prepared him for what she had planned. She prayed for Asa’s underlying goodness to shine out and be sensed by these children.

Lily skipped along beside her, chattering away about Clara, her soiled, limp rag doll lying over her arm. “That’s my favorite name, Clara,” the little girl said.

“That is a very pretty name, but so is Lily. I love lilies, especially tiger lilies.” Judith sensed Colton lagging behind. Glancing over her shoulder, she observed him studying the area as if looking for any possible danger. Or perhaps an escape route.

“What’s a tiger lily?” the little girl asked.

“It’s a yellow or orange lily that blooms in the summer. We may have some growing around here.” Judith sent the girl a happy smile that masked her growing misgivings. Mimicking in sound her tightening tension, a chickadee in a nearby tree called out, “Chickadee-dee-dee. Chickadee-dee-dee.”

What would Asa say when he saw whom she’d invited for lunch? Her lungs tightened.

As if he heard her thought, Asa stepped out of the barn and, when he saw them, halted.

Colton halted.

Lily halted.

Judith clung to Lily’s hand and drew her forward. “I’m so happy you accepted my invitation to have lunch,” she said a bit louder than usual. “Hello, Asa! This is Lily and her brother, Colton. Children, this is my husband, Asa Brant.”

Asa sized up their guests, his expression unreadable. “Hello, children.”

He studied Judith as if asking a question and awaiting the answer. And she mouthed, “Pie. Shirt.”

After studying the little girl’s makeshift dress, his shirt, he nodded slowly. He inhaled. “What’s for lunch?”

Judith thanked him with a smile. He was going along with her plan without asking questions. “I made salt pork and beans and some brown bread. And—” she hoped this would help lagging Colton come the last few feet to their door “—I baked cinnamon—”

“Cake!” Lily crowed. “It’s good.” With these words she revealed that they’d already sampled one.

“Better wash up,” Asa said. He walked over to the outdoor pitcher and basin and began to soap his hands.

Lily let go of Judith’s hand and ran to stand beside Asa. “I know how to wash my hands all by myself.”

“Good.” Asa handed her the bar of soap. He glanced over his shoulder. “Boy?”

Colton caught up with Judith but did not approach Asa. He waited till he and Lily were done. When Asa stepped away from the basin and went to pump more water into the pitcher, Colton washed his hands, but stuck close to Judith, still watchful of his sister. That told Judith much. They did not deem her a threat, but the man of the house might be.

Soon the four of them with clean hands sat at the table, the children side by side on a bench, which was usually tucked away against the wall. Asa offered his customary brief grace, and then Judith began to dish up bowls of the beans, fragrant with molasses, and thick slices of bread. The contrast between the children’s clean hands and their grimy faces and matted hair caused Judith to itch to give both children a good scrubbing, brushing and combing.

“Can I have butter on my bread?” Lily asked.

“You may if you say please,” Judith replied automatically.

“Please, can I have butter on my bread?” Lily asked.

Judith buttered a slice thickly and set it on the girl’s plate.

“What do you say?” Asa prompted, sounding stern.

“Thank you,” Lily said, then bit into her bread. “Mmm.”

Grateful for the way Asa had gone along with this unexpected turn of events, Judith still worried. How could they keep the children here? Would Asa want that? What did the town do with orphans here? But were they orphans or runaways? How had these two little ones ended up on their own in a cave?

She chewed mechanically, trying to come up with what to do. The children ate as if starved. The pork and beans disappeared. Soon she was setting a second cake on the table, the first having served as successful bait.

Asa ate his portion and then looked at Colton. “Think you know something about a pie that disappeared from our windowsill?”

Colton jerked up from the bench.

Why had Asa said this? Not knowing and not wanting to contradict him, Judith held her breath. Would the children bolt?

“Sit back down,” Asa said. “I’m not going to turn you over to the sheriff.”

Judith stilled. She did not know what Asa was doing so she had no way of countering it, softening it.

Colton stayed standing, wary.

“We took the pie,” Lily said. “We were really hungry, and Colton’s trap didn’t catch anything. Sorry.” The girl bowed her head and set a forkful of cake back on her plate.

Asa looked to the brother. “That what happened, boy?”

“Yes, sir,” Colton said, facing Asa squarely.

“Then I have a few chores you can do to work off what you owe me...us.”

At first Judith had to swallow a protest, and then she saw the wisdom of this. Or thought she did.

“What kind of chores?” Colton asked.

“I’m sharpening the blade of my plow. You could oil my plow harness.” Asa glanced toward Judith. “You have something Lily can help with?”

“Yes. She can dry the dishes and help me dust,” Judith improvised.

“I can do that,” Lily said, sounding happy that the chores were not beyond her abilities.

Asa looked to Judith, communicating something she couldn’t decipher. “Then we have a deal.” He rose from the table. “Children, thank Mrs. Brant for lunch. Good meal, ma’am,” he said, which was his usual end-of-meal phrase.

The little girl consumed the rest of her cake in two bites. “Good meal, ma’am,” Lily parroted.

Colton sat back down, finished drinking his glass of milk and ate the last bit of cake. “Thank you for the good lunch, Mrs. Brant.” He stood again. “Where’s that harness?”

“Where is that harness, sir?” Asa prompted.

Colton glared, his lower lip protruding. But he repeated the sentence, though with a surly edge.

Judith held her breath. Had Asa gone too far? Would he push the children to run?

Instead, Colton followed Asa outside. Lily drained her glass and popped up. “I can help.”

Judith rose and carried most of the dishes to the dry sink and counter. Lily followed her like a shadow and watched her intently. “I like your house,” the little girl said.

“Thank you. I do, too.”

The two of them chatted. Lily seemed happy to contribute her part, but she avoided all questions about her family. Once the little girl looked about to cry, so Judith returned the conversation to something light and easy.

The afternoon was far along when Colton appeared at the open cabin door. “You done with your chores, Lily?”

Lily looked up at Judith, her expression begging her to say no.

But the chores were done. “Yes, but won’t you stay—”

“We gotta go,” Colton insisted. He waved insistently at his little sister. “Come on.”

Lily left Judith’s side and went to her brother. Just before they left, she turned. “Thanks...thanks.”

Colton took his sister’s hand, and the two of them headed back to the forest.

Judith stepped outside and watched them go. Would they return to the cave or would they move on, afraid of...what? Who had made them afraid? Her heart hurt for them.

Asa remained in the barn.

Judith rarely ventured there, sensing that her new husband liked his privacy. Being married to a stranger who wouldn’t reveal anything about his past or thoughts often became awkward. The barn was his haven, hers the kitchen. But now she entered the barn, her emotions a storm.

Asa stood near his upturned plow in the shadowy interior that smelled like a clean barn should, earthy with the distinctive scent of horses and cows. Everything in the barn reflected Asa’s desire for neatness and order. The walls were adorned with pegs that sported all manner of tools and horse paraphernalia. She paused in the doorway, looking at him. She tried to come up with a way to introduce the subject of the children and what to do about them. Two children that young would not thrive living in a cave. And though spring and summer were ahead, winter would come again. Her husband did not like to talk, but they must discuss this. The children had come to their window. God had brought Colton and Lily to them. She cleared her throat and prayed for inspiration.

* * *

Hearing her come in, Asa, sitting at his small, slender work table, gazed at Judith, seeing her silhouette outlined in sunshine. Already knowing her tender heart, he shouldn’t have been surprised at her showing up with two ragamuffins. “Where’d you find them?” he asked.

She filled him in on the cake trap she’d set to catch the pie-and-shirt thief.

Fear for her, and anger, ricocheted through him. He stood. “You did that without telling me?” he snapped. “What if it hadn’t been children but a man...a tramp? Someone who might have hurt you.” He closed the distance between them.

“I don’t know why I didn’t tell you.” She lifted her hands in a helpless motion. “I guess I’m used to taking care of things myself. Father hasn’t been strong for a long time. My brother was gone to war. I’m the oldest.”

He drew a few deep breaths, calming himself.

“If a man had come, I would have stayed in the springhouse.” She looked up at him—and burst into tears.

He didn’t know what to do. “I didn’t mean to make you cry—”

“You didn’t.” She wept on, waving her hand toward the open door. “They are living in a cave. What are we going to do? Colton can’t be even ten. He can’t take care of Lily all by himself.” She covered her face with both hands. Her weeping intensified.

Her freely expressed emotions pointed out his own hollowed-out aching within. No doubt she’d never before seen ragged, grimy children begging. But he had. Urchins—both white and black—had come into camp begging even for hardtack, the worst food ever.

He closed his eyes, trying to block out the memories. Then he looked at his wife. What did one do with a weeping woman? He recalled the few times he’d seen his mother cry and how his father had handled it.

Uncertain, he put an arm around her and patted her back, mimicking his father’s words. “There, there.”

It worked.

She stepped closer and rested her head against his chest, quieting. The fragrance she always wore, which reminded him of lilacs, floated up from her hair. He nearly bent and kissed the top of her head. But he held himself in check. His father had never kissed his mother when comforting her. And Asa and Judith were married but not close...his fault.

“Asa, what are we going to do? We can’t let two little children continue to live in a cave in the woods.”

She spoke the truth. In the past he could give only what he had in his knapsack to the orphans of the war, but now he had a house and food to share. Yet he didn’t know what to say, so he patted her shoulder some more.

“You were very wise about the pie and chores,” she said, glancing up.

I was? he thought.

“I could see Colton understood that. When I invited them to lunch, he didn’t want to come, but Lily came right along. Someone, some man, has mistreated him. You noticed that, too?”

Asa considered this. “You’re right. He came with me but kept his distance, always out of arm’s reach. And we’re assuming that they are orphans, but they might have run away.”

Judith pressed her face into his shirt again. Then straightened. “I hate to think that, but yes, some parents or guardians can be ill-tempered.”

Asa almost lost himself looking into her eyes, which shone with tears of concern.

“I think the offer of payment by chores reassured him that you—we—weren’t trying to pull something over on him.” She looked at Asa, obviously asking for a reply.

“It worked.” Those were the only words that came to him.

She nodded. And then sighed and wiped her cheeks with her handkerchief. “I’m sorry to break down like that. I just was so shocked to see children living there. And on top of that, I’m worried that I still haven’t heard from home. We sent that letter weeks ago.”

Judith began twisting the hankie in both hands. “Emma wrote Father, too. No reply.”

Asa shifted from foot to foot. He didn’t like talking about family. “What do you think is keeping him from answering?”

She mangled the lacy scrap of linen some more.

“You can tell me, Judith.” His words mocked him. He expected her to trust him, but he didn’t want to trust her. Bile rose in his throat.

She moved to sit at Asa’s work table. “My brother returned from the war with a bride from Kentucky.” She pursed her lips as if hesitant to say more.

Asa said nothing. He couldn’t coax her to talk. It felt dishonest of him.

“My sister-in-law, Mabel Joy, is a contentious woman. That’s all I’ll say.”

“Maybe your father can’t write...” As soon as the words left his mouth, and he saw her stricken look, he knew he’d said exactly the wrong thing. Contrite, he patted her back again. “Might just be that men aren’t good at writing letters.”

Again his own words slapped him. He had yet to write his own parents to tell them he’d married Judith. Guilt froze him in place. What kind of son didn’t even write his parents when he got married? Had his bride noticed that?

Judith touched his sleeve. “You are probably right. Father was never one to write letters. And if Mabel Joy were a kind woman, she’d have written back or coaxed him into doing so.” She sighed.

“Is there a neighbor you could write, or a relative?” Asa suggested.

Judith’s eyes brightened. “Of course. Why didn’t I think of that?” She squeezed his hand. “Thank you, Asa. I’ll write to our neighbor, and I know she’ll write back and give me all the news.” She sent him a trembly smile. “So, what should we do about these children?”

He could do nothing but say the truth. “Let’s both think on it.”

She nodded. “A good idea.” She surprised him by standing on tiptoe and kissing his cheek. “Thank you, Asa.” Then, as if embarrassed, she hurried out with a wave of one hand.

He stood still, savoring the quick peck on his cheek. With tiny hitching breaths, he was able to relax. It was good to have Judith here. Yet troubling. She caused him to feel his inner lack, his inability to react like a normal man. But so far he’d evidently not revealed his deficiency, his emptiness to her. So far, so good.

* * *

In the back of his mind, Asa recalled that he’d heard a husband and wife in the area had died over the winter and there had been children. So after listening to Judith repeat her worries about the children the previous evening, Asa decided he needed more reconnaissance before he took action. He’d go to the fount of all local news and information, Ned Ashford.

So this morning after breakfast and chores, he entered the shadowy store. A few remaining strings of dried apples hung from the rafters and still faintly scented the air. Two women were just finishing up their purchases. He waited, looking over Ashford’s supply of ammunition.

When the ladies left, jingling the bell on the door, Asa approached the storekeeper. “Morning.”

“Morning. What can I do for you?”

“Could use some more buckshot.” Asa knew he must not appear that he came just for information. He didn’t want Ashford too interested. These two waifs, probably orphans, had come to Asa’s door, and Judith would want to have a hand in deciding what should be done for them. So did he, for that matter. He’d been unable to help orphans in the war-ravaged South, but he could help two here.

As the transaction proceeded, Asa asked in a nonchalant voice, “Didn’t I hear that a couple farther out died over winter?”

Ashford looked up, alert. “Yes. Why do you ask?”

Asa had come prepared. “My wife was wondering if anybody needed help with anything. She likes to be a good neighbor.”

“You got yourself a good wife there,” Ashford said. “Everybody thinks so.”

Asa did not like how this comment revealed that he and Judith were the topic of discussion locally, but he ignored this for now. “Do you know what happened to the couple?” Asa prompted Ashford.

“Well, they were nice young people, name of Farrier, homesteading like you and your wife. We think it might have been pneumonia. Their neighbors, the Smiths, came to church—something they didn’t do often.” Ashford paused to frown at this. “Anyway, the Smiths said that their neighbors had died and before the ground froze deep, they’d buried them.

“The Smiths asked Noah to come do a graveside service. He did. A few of us went along, a sad task. Noah looked at the Farriers’ family Bible and some letters from the Farriers’ place to find out if any kin wanted the children. He wrote. But he never heard back. And the Smiths had already taken in the two children, a boy and a girl.”

A boy and a girl. Asa concealed his reaction to the news. This might explain two children without parents. He wished he’d taken more notice at the time. But the Farriers had been near strangers to him. “Smiths took them in?”

“Yes, said that the Farriers and they were distant cousins, but—” Ashford paused “—if I recall correctly, the Farriers didn’t cotton to their neighbors and never said anything about being related.”

“So the Smiths took in the children.” Asa repeated the information, mentally examining it.

“Yes. Noah Whitmore visited again when the weather permitted. But the children had been taken in and were being cared for, so he merely discussed the matter and offered help. The Smiths turned him down. And that was that.”

Asa nodded, paid for the buckshot. “Sad story.”

“It’s a hard life on the frontier. You take care of that sweet wife of yours.”

“Will do.” Nobody and nothing were going to get past him to Judith. And now he knew that Judith would make sure these children were taken care of for her peace of mind. And his own peace of mind, for that matter. The wary look in the boy’s eyes wouldn’t leave him alone, either. And hands down, he couldn’t ignore two children living in the wild alone.

Out in the sunshine, Asa wandered over to the blacksmith. He waited till Levi, in his leather apron, finished the horseshoe he was pounding on the anvil, making sparks fly. The heat from his fire warmed Asa’s face uncomfortably.

“Hello.” Levi swiped a grimy cloth over his sweaty face.

Asa returned the greeting. “Need to know if you ever heard of the Farriers or the Smiths.”

Levi looked thoughtful. “The Farriers died last winter. Sad. The Smiths were their neighbors. Why do you ask?”

“Tell you later. Need to know where the Smiths’ place is.”

Levi motioned toward the trail that followed the river north. “Head up to the Chippewa River. Follow it west about four miles. That’s where they live.”

“Thanks.” Asa turned to leave.

Levi said, “Let me know if you need any help.”

Asa thanked him again. Levi reminded Asa of what he had once been, a young man who had not been drained and polluted by the war. He liked to talk to Levi and enjoy the easy friendship they shared. But now he had to go home and discuss the children with Judith. He thought he knew what to do, but he wanted to hear what she had to say. His wife had a good grasp about people.

And she had more than that. Judith’s open-hearted ways were a temptation to him, and her soft voice had a way of swirling inside him, rustling the dry leaves of his heart. He stopped his thoughts there. The two of them were working out a way to live together just as he wanted, respecting each other’s privacy. His mind tried to bring up the sensation of her lips on his cheek. He shoved it away. Or at least, he tried to.

* * *

That evening at supper, Asa cleared his throat. “I went to town and talked to Ashford.”

Judith looked into his eyes. “Oh?”

He didn’t want to talk, but he needed to get her ideas, see if she’d come to the same conclusion he had. “I found out that a couple named Farrier did die this winter.” He filled her in on the details, scant as they were. “The Smiths probably wanted the children for work on the farm.” Done, he waited for her to comment.

She worried her lower lip. “I don’t think the children would have left the Smiths’—was it...?”

He nodded.

“...without good cause. They are too young to be rebellious, like children somewhat older than they are can be. It sounds like something bad happened at the Smiths’.”

“That’s what I thought, too.”

“I will pray about it. God brought them to us. They need us but are afraid. I don’t know how to overcome that.”

“Right.” Asa had exhausted what he wanted to bring up, and she had reinforced what he thought of the situation. Judith would pray and he would come up with a plan. In his experience, prayer didn’t always help. It hadn’t in the war. Images of starving children buffeted him. He closed his eyes, wishing he could banish the cruel memories.

* * *

A cloudless sky overhead, Asa rode his chestnut horse. He’d already reached the Chippewa River and was heading east, nearing the Smiths’. Two days had passed since the children had sat at his table. Yesterday his wife carried food to the children at their cave. He’d stayed away, concerned that he might spook them and cause them to bolt if he came too near.

Of course, he had work to do today, but planting time hadn’t come yet, so he could look for the Smiths. Ever since finding the children, his wife had not been her usual cheerful self. The plight of Lily and Colton was weighing on her. He’d heard her crying last night. The sound had motivated him to venture out today.

Overhead, crows swooped, and then a falcon screeched. The frontier had a special peace, one undisturbed by train whistles, steam engines, gunfire, hoarse shouts, the chaos of battle. He shook his head, trying to shake away the sudden fire of many cannons blasting in his memory. Smoke. The stench of death and screams of wounded men and animals.

He stopped his horse and drew in deep breaths, letting the calm of the forest wrap around him, the truth of his current situation settle in his heart. It was very unlikely that anyone here was lying in wait for him, aiming a rifle at him. He closed his eyes. Then opened them and urged his horse forward, following a track through the trees, the river rushing nearby.

He came around another river bend and happened onto a clearing with a cabin and barn. Asa sized up the homestead. And decided Mr. Smith didn’t know what he was doing. The man had built too close to the river, which had been steadily rising with the snowmelt. He’d be flooded out if spring brought heavy rains.

Asa called the common frontier greeting when approaching a dwelling. “Hello the house!”

A woman opened the door and looked out. A man came out of the barn, carrying a rifle. He barked, “Get inside, woman.”

The woman obeyed, shutting the door.

“What do you want?” the man called out. He kept the rifle down but held it in both hands, ready to raise it.

Asa didn’t want to make hasty assumptions. He himself was cautious with strangers. He’d come armed with a pistol at his belt and a rifle where he could reach it. He realized that he’d not thought up a plausible reason for coming. He didn’t want to let on about the children if they’d run away from here. He racked his brain for a good excuse.

He saw a gray-and-white kitten peeping out of the barn door. “I’m Brant. Live near town.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes. Heard that you might have some kittens for sale. I need barn cats.”

The man eyed him. “Who told you that?”

“Storekeeper.”

“That old woman in pants.” The man snorted.

Asa bridled at the insult to Ashford. Yes, the storekeeper liked to talk, but it was no reason to speak that way about him. Asa nodded toward the kitten and another that had wandered outside. “Well, do you have an extra pair I could have?”

The man rubbed his stubbled face and squinted up at Asa. Then he dropped one hand from his rifle. “Sure. Cat had a litter of six this time.”

“I’d like to take two off your hands. Once I plant corn, the mice will come running.”

The man chuckled at this.

“Your cat a good mouser?”

“If she wasn’t, I wouldn’t keep her.”

“So let’s do business.” Asa slid from his horse.

The haggling over the price of two barn kittens allowed Asa more time to size up the homestead and the man. The man was rough and his place disorganized, sloppy. Asa didn’t respect a man who didn’t know how to take care of what he owned.

When he finally paid a price he deemed exorbitant for the cats, he was ready to leave this man. He scooped up the kittens and stuck them, heads out, one in each deep chest pocket of his jacket and buttoned them in. They were tiny, probably just old enough to leave their mom. Mewing, they dug their little claws into him, holding on for dear life.

Asa mounted, tipped his hat toward the woman staring out the window at him. He felt Smith’s gaze on his back as he rode away. Around the bend he was happy to be within his sight no longer. Something about Smith just didn’t feel right. Asa pushed this thought aside. The kittens were mewing and trying to climb out of his pockets, their little noses peeping out. He began murmuring to them about his house, his cow and its good milk, and his wife Judith.

Thinking of her caused him to urge his horse to pick up a little more speed. He wanted to be home—home where a neat, pretty woman would no doubt be making something good to eat. He glanced up at the calm blue sky, wishing he could be more for her. She deserved the best. A man who still had feelings to share.

* * *

“Judith!”

She heard Asa’s voice, interrupting the cooing mourning dove. The bird had been sounding its lonely call as she waited for Asa to return. She stepped outside. Where had he been gone all these hours? He’d eaten breakfast and the next thing she knew, he was riding away. She pressed her lips together, holding back a scolding. She didn’t know Asa well enough for that. “Yes?”

Then she glimpsed two little furry gray-and-white heads peeping out of his jacket pockets. “Kittens! Wherever did you get them?” She hurried forward.

He slid from the saddle, lifted out one kitten and handed it to her.

She accepted the ball of fur. “Oh, so tiny.” She petted its head with one finger. “So soft.” She glanced up, smiling. “Where did you get them?” she repeated.

“A homestead north of here.”

“I’ve missed our cats and dog.” She reached out and touched the other one. Then she looked up, wondering at this development. What was going on in her husband’s head?

“We need to talk.” Asa lifted out the other kitten for her. “I’ll unsaddle.” He turned, leading his horse, and she followed him. She didn’t enter the barn but paused at the door.

His comment was unexpected and somewhat cryptic. Talk about what? She knew what she wanted to bring up again, the plight of the cave children, but instead she cuddled the kittens near her cheeks, luxuriating in the soft, silken fur. And waited, hoping Asa would explain. Then she’d made up her mind whether to ask him if they could somehow persuade the children to come for a visit. Someone needed to decide what to do about those poor waifs. She would gladly take on the responsibility, but Asa was the husband, the man of the house, the head of their new family. He must lead. And she must follow.

Asa lifted off the saddle and proceeded to put away his tack. “Talked to Ashford, you know.”

“Yes.” She waited.

He began currying his horse. “Decided to find the people who I think took in Colton and Lily after their parents died. Went to see them today.”

It hurt that he hadn’t discussed this with her before he’d gone, but whining about it wouldn’t help her cause, which was to get those children out of that cold cave. She quelled her reaction. “I’m glad. What did you find?”

“Wouldn’t leave a dog in their care,” Asa said, sounding angry. “The man was a rough sort, and his wife looked cowed. Got a bad feeling just being there.”

“Oh, dear.” Judith’s ready sympathy was stirred. The kittens strained to get down, but she held on to them.

“I bought the kittens so he wouldn’t wonder why I’d just popped up out of the blue.” He began brushing the horse’s mane. The animal leaned into his hand as if enjoying the attention.

“Good thinking.” She crooned to the two little ones, trying to think up names for them.

He chuckled. “I’m a silver dollar shorter than when I left.”

“A silver dollar for two kittens?” The price shocked her.

“Yes, I got him down from a dollar apiece.” He finished dealing with the horse and led the animal outside, heading to their pasture, where it could graze under the trees with their tiny leaves.

Judith kept up with him.

“Need to get those children out of that cave,” Asa said. “Orphans that young won’t make it.”

Judith couldn’t hold back her relief at his words. “Oh, Asa, I’ve been so worried for them.”

His horse nudged him as if asking for a treat. Asa stroked his nose. “Stayed on my mind, too.” Then, on the flat of his hand, he held out a sugar cube from his pocket, and the horse took it. “Invite them to another meal and afterward, ask them to stay. They need someone to look after them. And they came to our door.”

Judith hurried forward and touched Asa’s arm. “Thank you. I didn’t know what to do.”

He turned to her. “Well, I don’t know, either, except that we can’t do nothing.”

Judith nearly kissed his cheek again.

But her husband, as skittish as a colt, shied away slightly.