Chapter Twenty-Nine
Comfort and Fresh Milk
Miss June said we needed to go back and see Cal and the young ’uns right away, so they’d know for sure we weren’t gonna abandon them because of what we’d discovered.
They needed to know we were on their side, and that we wouldn’t leave them to their own devices as of yet, even though we didn’t quite know how to help them.
She wanted us to tell Cal about the plan to fix up the barn and get some livestock, and see what Cal thought about that. If she didn’t have a problem with it, we should get that started. And while going about it, we needed to keep thinking about a long-term solution.
I had supposed that Trick would go back to her work at The Angel, now that Cal had been found, but Miss June hadn’t said anything, and Trick seemed to be a whole other person out here in the world, in the buckskin trousers she’d bartered for in Agnes Hill and the men’s shirts and jackets she’d gotten to wearing.
’Twas fascinating to see her blossom, and she didn’t seem in any haste to go back to pleasing men for money.
I recalled that Trick and Cal had had a close friendship when they’d worked under Miss June at The Angel, and now Trick was invested in and concerned with Cal and the children’s well-being.
“Now, look here. We want to help you,” she said to Cal, when Cal hesitated o’er the plan for the barn.
Cal gazed at Trick with a great deal of vulnerability in her eyes. “I know. And that’s…that’s mighty kind of you all.”
“We ain’t tryin’ to be kind!” Trick said, losing her composure. She reined it in, though. “Well now, of course we are, but more’n that, we’re tryin’ to help you to make somethin’ of this place. You can’t go on as you have been, Cal. You gotta see that.”
Cal gazed around her at the small home she shared with the three children, whom Miss June had taken outside.
“I suppose. I know, I…”
“You did what you had to do, Cal,” Oscar said. “And you’ve done your best to look after the wee ones. But you can’t go on like this…none of you.”
A look of melancholy came o’er Cal.
“I know. But what else can I do?”
Trick kneeled on the wood floor in front of where Cal was sitting. She gazed at Cal with an adoring expression and placed a hand on Cal’s knee where it sat under her rough skirt.
“You can let us do what we have to, to give you and these children a chance at a happier life. Don’t you want that?”
Oscar and I watched in silence as Cal’s fingers crept forward o’er her skirts to clutch Trick’s. She nodded as tears cascaded down her cheeks.
“Oh, Cal,” Trick murmured, as she moved forward to take Cal into a gentle embrace. “I know you’re in there, the Cal that I knew.”
I blinked back emotion as Cal held on to Trick, and the sound of Trick’s broken sobs ripped through the small space. Oscar and I stood sentinel as Trick and Cal clasped each other in a cathartic embrace.
After a time, Miss June poked her head in the door and saw what had happened.
“Good. She needs to get it out. What happened to Cal and these children will take time to recover from, but the first step is grief for what was lost, not particularly the husband—good riddance to him—but the rest of it. The children will be fine. They’re resilient.
But I don’t mind saying that I’m awfully worried for Cal.
But maybe this”—Miss June nodded at the two friends—“this will help.”
“I’m sure ’twill,” I said.
I motioned to Oscar and Miss June, and we left Cal and Trick to their sorrow and their comfort.
* * * *
O’er the next few weeks, Cal began to come back to herself. She wanted Trick near her, though, and Trick didn’t seem to mind so much.
Oscar and I bought supplies in Agnes Hill and fixed up the barn.
We had experience now, and I reckoned we did a good job, even without Tim and Carson to help.
We got a nice little spotted cow for a good price from an old man in the neighboring district, and the children lit up when we brought her to the homestead.
“Oh, she’s so pretty! What’s her name?” Lizzie exclaimed, wringing her hands with excitement.
I glanced at Oscar, who shrugged.
“We forgot to ask,” I admitted.
“Why don’t you name her?” Oscar suggested.
“What about Spot?” Peter said.
I could see that he was as excited about the cow as Lizzie was, but he was trying to act as though he wasn’t.
Lizzie frowned. “No, that’s too plain for a cow as pretty as she is. What about…Gwendolyn?”
Peter laughed, gazing at Oscar and me, as if waiting for us to protest such a grandiose moniker for a simple milch cow.
I glanced at Oscar and raised my eyes.
“I think that’s a mighty fine name for her. Don’t you, Jimmy?”
“I suppose it’s all right. Bit long, though.”
“Seems a bit fancy,” Peter said, “for a cow.”
“’Tisn’t! ‘Tis a fine name for such a lovely cow. And we can call her Gwen for short,” Lizzie said.
Peter rolled his eyes. “All right. I suppose.”
“Let’s get Gwen settled into the barn, then. We’ve got a nice little stall built for her,” Oscar said, holding out his hand to Lizzie. “Come on.”
None of the children had gone in there yet, and I held my breath as Oscar waited patiently for Lizzie to decide if she would do it.
She glanced at Peter, who nodded, as if to let her know he thought ’twas all right. Then she took Oscar’s hand, and he led her and the cow into the barn, with Peter and me following behind.
The children seemed wary as they entered the space, but I hoped it looked different enough from what it had been like before that ’twouldn’t be too hard to see it in anew. We’d installed a glass window near the roof to let in more natural light, and that made a world of difference.
Peter and Lizzie gazed about them—at first, with trepidation, then with more relaxed expressions.
“Here… Help me get her into the stall.” Oscar fished a small carrot out of his pocket. “Can you lead her in?”
Lizzie nodded and took the carrot.
“Here, Gwendolyn,” she said, showing the cow the treat.
Gwendolyn’s ears flapped forward, and she bellowed, making Lizzie and Peter laugh.
“Come on. It’s all right,” Lizzie said, backing into the stall as Gwendolyn followed her. In a moment, the sweet cow was munching on the carrot, and Lizzie was standing beside her, petting her and saying kind things in her big brown ear.
Peter rested his crossed arms on the stall door and gazed at them, appearing relaxed and content—more so than I’d ever seen him.
“I reckon she likes you, Lizzie,” he said.
Lizzie beamed at him. Then she turned to me.
“I need to learn how to milk her, don’t I?”
I nodded. “Sure. And Peter, too, so you’ll both know how.”
’Twas beginning to feel like the children and Cal might be all right. But we still needed to come up with a long-term plan.