Chapter 1 #3
“Anyway, they convinced me to leave my baby at the orphanage. I … I didn’t want to, honestly I didn’t.
I tried to take care of her as best I could but it was impossible.
I was half-starving and couldn’t even feed my baby, and coupled with my fears that Everett and Silas and their gang would find me, I did as they asked. ”
The reverend said nothing, but again placed his hand on hers.
“I left my daughter at the orphanage here, promising her that I would return when it was safe.”
“Is it safe now?” he asked. “Have they been captured?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know. Whenever I find a newspaper, I search it for news, but I heard rumors … those rumors prompted me to leave the Dakotas, rumors that the Blackwell gang was in the area.” She heaved a shaky sigh.
“So I came here, to find news of my daughter, to learn if she’d been adopted.” She gulped. “But the matron of the orphanage told me that my daughter not only hadn’t been adopted yet, but was sent to an orphanage in Texas.”
He said nothing for several long moments. “How long has it been?”
“Seven years since I ran away,” she murmured.
“She’s six years old now, Reverend. I wandered from place to place, seeking work but never staying anywhere too long, afraid that my husband would find me.
I moved around a lot, always looking over my shoulder, afraid for my life and that of my daughter.
I settled for a while up in the Black Hills and stayed there for a number of years. ”
She turned to the reverend. “I tried to save up money, enough to build us a good life but … but jobs for someone like me, with little education and job experience, were hard to come by and never paid well.” She rushed on.
“But I think of my daughter every day, reverend. I pray that she’s found a good family, that she’s happy and well cared for. But I have to know.”
She couldn’t hide her desperation. “I know I’ve done terrible things, but I have to know, before I can ask forgiveness of God and of myself.” She felt drained, completely worn out and defeated. She waited for the reverend to tell her to leave his church, but he didn’t.
“Missus Whitfield, placing your child with the orphanage must have been a very difficult thing you did, but you were not thinking of yourself. You were thinking of your daughter and her safety. While I cannot condone what you did, I can understand why you felt that was your only option. That said, what is it that you want from me?”
“The matron at the orphanage said that my daughter had not been formally adopted yet. She’s had two opportunities here but she’d been returned to the orphanage both times. All she told me was that they had sent her to Texas, to a small orphanage there. She told me to come see you.”
She paused, her stomach a hard knot, her heart thudding, and exhaustion tugging at her inner strength. “Please tell me where she was sent, Reverend Dunby, please. I just need to make sure that she’s all right, that she’s safe and I hope, happy. Please …”
He said nothing for several moments, and then stood. “Wait here.”
She nodded as he stood and moved toward the sanctuary and beyond the altar to a door in the right corner of the room.
He opened the door and stepped through it, closing it softly behind him.
She waited for several minutes, staring at the altar and its wooden cross, her heart heavy with guilt for her bad judgment, for the fear that had prompted her to—
The reverend returned and she watched anxiously as he sat down next to her. “The only information I can give you is the area of the orphanage to which she was sent from here.” He lifted a hand. “That doesn’t mean she’s still there, let me make that clear.”
Her hopes soared. “Thank you, Reverend Dunby, thank you!”
He lifted a hand again. “As I said, don’t get your hopes up.” He paused. “And I urge you not to interfere with the child if you do find her there and living happily with a family who cares for and loves her.”
Warm tears once again filled her eyes. “I won’t, Reverend, I promise.” It was a hard promise but one that she’d been prepared to make. “I just need to make sure that she’s all right.”
He eyed her for several long moments before he continued.
“She was sent to a small orphanage in the Panhandle of Texas, near a small town east of Amarillo.” He eyed her somberly.
“That’s all I can tell you, Missus Whitfield, other than I pray that that you can find some peace one day.
He glanced down at the Bible she held in her lap.
“And remember the words of Ephesians, Chapter One verse seven. ‘In Him we have redemption through His blood, the forgiveness of sins, according to the riches of His grace.”
With that he stood, extending a hand toward her as he did so. Swallowing thickly, she stood, humbled by his kindness. “Thank you, Reverend Dunby, thank you.”
Chloe left the church, her heart pounding and one hand tightly gripping the handle of her valise, the other fisted at her side as she returned to the stagecoach station.
She hoped she had enough money to get her to Texas, praying with every step that her daughter had found a good family to live with there.
She knew she wouldn’t, or couldn’t, rest until she learned the truth.