Uncovered in Merriweather (Jane Austen in Wisconsin #2)

Prologue

There it was again. A cry. Edmund perked his ears.

Yes, it was definitely a cry, but of what?

It was almost like the meow of a kitten, which delighted him.

Though he was only seven, he was particularly good at finding batches of kittens tucked away in the hay barn, usually in the upper loft, hidden by many a mama cat.

He dropped the cottonwood leaves he had been collecting and pressed into the weeds nearer the creek. They had decided to have a leaf race there, and Edmund knew that cottonwood leaves made the very best sort of racers. Beating Louisa would be easy, but May might be harder.

Normally, they played war or Cowboys and Indians, but it wouldn’t be the same without all the Kerwyns, especially Ray.

He and Ray were always the captains of the two teams, but Ray had been made to stay behind today to help his dad fix fences.

None of the other Kerwyns—besides Louisa and May, that is—had been able to come out, either, so they had decided to race leaves instead.

There it was again. The cry. Though now it was more of a whimper. And it wasn’t a cat, Edmund decided. It was more like . . . well, like a baby, maybe. He quickened his step and, avoiding the giant thistles, plowed into the Queen Anne’s Lace instead.

“Hello?” he shouted.

The crying stopped. “Mama? Mama!” Then the crying started up again, more frantic now.

Definitely a baby! “Here, baby!” Edmund called excitedly.

Pushing through the weeds, Edmund hurried in the direction of the cry, only to almost trip over a little creature.

Edmund stared at it. It was indeed a baby!

Well, not a baby baby, but more like a toddler.

Maybe two years old, Edmund guessed. It had long black hair and very chubby red cheeks streaked with tears and dirt.

Must be a girl, Edmund decided, going by the hair and the dirty shift it—she—was wearing.

Startled by Edmund’s sudden appearance, the baby locked her big black eyes on Edmund and promptly began to scream.

“Shh, baby! Shh! It’s okay,” Edmund cooed, using the voice he usually reserved for calming calves and dogs and, well, almost any creature. “Shh, baby, look.” He crouched in front of her and held out his hands, palms up. “I won’t hurt you.” He wished he had something to give her.

The baby kept crying, fresh tears streaming down her cheeks.

Edmund stood up and scratched his head. He looked around for the others. “May?” he called.

No one answered.

The baby continued to cry unabated. Edmund remembered, then, that he had half a peppermint stick in his pocket and pulled it out.

Unfortunately, it was covered with lint and likewise a few hairs.

He quickly popped it into his mouth to clean it.

After sucking for a few moments, he pulled it out.

Looked okay. He spit out the lint and held the candy in front of the baby.

The baby stared at it.

Edmund waited for the baby to take it, but she did not. She must not know what it was. Bending closer, he touched it gently to the baby’s lips. The baby’s eyes lit up in surprise.

“Here, you take it,” Edmund encouraged, but the baby did nothing, just blinked at him.

But at least she had stopped crying. “Here.” He wedged the stick in the baby’s chubby hand and stood back, waiting to see what the baby would do.

Ater a few moments she put it to her mouth, and then her tiny tongue came out and gave it a little lick.

Edmund pealed with laughter. “You look just like a baby possum!”

The baby continued licking and then tried to gnaw it.

“May!” Edmund called again. “Come see what I found!”

This time he heard a rustling. “Where are you?”

“Over here!” he shouted.

More rustling, and then a girl of eight finally pushed through the weeds. She was covered with sweat, as was he at this point in the afternoon.

“What is it?” May asked.

“Look what I found!” Edmund pointed at the baby.

May’s eyes grew wide as her gaze shifted from the baby to Edmund. “A baby! Who is it?”

Edmund shrugged, still grinning. “How should I know?”

“And what is she eating?” May placed her hands on her knees and peered more closely.

“She was crying, so I gave her some candy.”

Horrified, May snatched the candy from the baby. “You can’t give a baby a peppermint stick! Don’t you know that?”

The baby began to wail.

Edmund frowned. “See?”

May hesitated, then gave the sticky candy back to the crying baby. “What if she chokes?”

“She won’t choke.”

“What are you guys doin’?” came another voice from the weeds. “How come you always leave me behind? When are we gonna do the race?”

Louisa appeared. “Hey!” She stared at the little girl. “Where’d you guys find a baby? In a cabbage patch? How come you didn’t tell me?” She looked from her big sister to Edmund and stuck out her lower lip. “And, hey! Why does she have candy? Do I get some?”

“Be quiet, Lou,” Edmund said. “I’m trying to think.”

“About what?”

“About what to do with this baby.”

Louisa flopped down and rested her head on one hand. “Are we doin’ the race or not?”

“Wonder where her family is,” Edmund mused. “Think she belongs to the Warehams?” He nodded in the direction of the Wareham farm, whose pasture abutted the Kerwyns’.

“They don’t have any kids. You know that, Ed.”

“Well, maybe they got company.”

“Maybe.”

“I guess we can’t leave her here.” May picked up the baby. Startled, the girl resumed her wailing and squirming again, despite May’s efforts to pat her hard on the back. “Shh!” May said. “It’s okay. You’re a feisty one, ain’t you?”

Edmund slowly held out his hands. “Come here, Possum,” he said softly.

“Come on; you’re okay.” Gently, Edmund took the crying baby from May’s arms, staggering for a moment under weight of her.

He was not very big himself. “She’s heavy!

” he said as he shifted her onto his hip.

“There you are,” he said soothingly. “You’re okay now, aren’t you? Shh. It’s okay now.”

Miraculously, the baby stopped crying and instead stared at him, only a few hiccups escaping and the candy stick still grasped tightly in her little fist. Her tiny dark eyes were filled with fright, and Edmund felt a crush of pity for her.

She reminded him of a small animal inadvertently caught in a trap meant for bigger prey, and he desperately wanted to soothe her.

“That’s it, Possum,” he said softly.

“Possum?” May’s nose wrinkled.

“Don’t she look like a baby possum?”

May peered at the baby more closely. “No.”

Edmund began to walk.

“Where are you going?” May called.

“Taking her to your ma.”

“Why not take her to yours?”

“ ’Cause yours is closer. Anyway, your ma will know what to do, most likely.”

“Aw!” Louisa whined, reluctantly getting to her feet. “What about the race?”

“Be quiet, Lou!” May scolded.

“Come on, Possum. Let’s get you home,” Edmund said and gently rubbed the baby’s back as he tramped through the weeds.