Chapter 29

Otis shifted his weight, trying to find a comfortable way to sit in the saddle. He had enough riding experience to feel competent

but not enough to feel completely at ease. The long ride to Peter and Nina's gave him ample time to think about what lay ahead.

He could only hope Katie's letter would ease the pain that Peter and Nina were sure to feel. It was all he could offer, the

mother's plea for her daughter and his promise to fulfill it. As for Sadie, surely she would understand that it was his responsibility

to stand in Reginald's place and give Elisabeth a better life.

He urged the horse to go faster, grateful he'd paid attention to the landscape when he'd gone to visit Sadie, and that their

many conversations had included talk of her closest neighbors. The nearer he got, the more aware he was of the magnitude of

his mission. His stomach clenched, not with doubt but with pain for the soft-spoken Peter who had brought letters back and

forth between Otis and Sadie, and for the good man's wife, who was a friend to Sadie. Tonight he would kiss his niece's cheek,

and they would have an empty bed and a hole in their hearts.

He slowed his horse as he neared his destination. He slid off and tied the reins to a fence, deciding to take the rest of the journey on foot. The dusty road leading to the modest home was long and full of furrows. He ambled slowly, imagining what life at the Tippinses' home was like. Theirs was a small, humble farm, one that, according to Sadie, had always failed to thrive financially. But by all accounts, it was a happy home.

A lone tree waved in the breeze to the right of the house. Its leaves rustled in the wind, but it was the swing that drew

his gaze. Someone had climbed the limbs of the mighty oak and hung a seat for a child.

"Papa," a small voice rang through the air. "Papa, I'll find you."

Otis stared. A girl, no higher than a half-grown cornstalk, stepped onto the yard, her flaxen hair braided and her face round

and rosy. "One, two, three..."

Music. Her voice was music to his ears. A babyish inflection touched each word as she shouted out her numbers. "I'm going

now!" She giggled as she ran across the yard with her arms pumping at her sides. She looked behind the tree and then pushed

the swing as she ran past. The grin on her face never faltered as she ran to the porch and looked under it. "Where are you?"

She put her hands on her hips and looked around. Her hair whipped across her face only to be pushed behind her ear by plump

little fingers. Each movement she made captivated him. She was beautiful. Breathtaking. She switched directions and ran again,

her legs bringing her right to him.

Unsure what to do, he waited. She came so close he could see the blue of her eyes. "Taylor eyes," Katie had called them, and

she'd been correct. Sadie had seen it too. He and this child were not strangers—they were family. Her pace slowed, and then

she stopped. "I'm lookin' for my papa." She smiled. "He's hidin'."

He cleared his throat and bent down so he could look into the face of his family, embodied in one perfect child. Tears welled in his eyes, and happiness like nothing he had ever known overwhelmed him. He wasn't alone. Not anymore.

"Did you see 'im?"

Otis shook his head. His words, like so many times before, failed him. All he could do was stare and feel.

"I'll find him," she said, her mouth pulling into an impish grin, "or Mama will help."

When he still did not speak, she came closer and patted him on the arm. "I like your hat," she said, then turned around and

ran back, shouting for her papa. Otis touched the brim of his hat. He'd been afraid she would fear him, but she'd touched

his arm and smiled at him. They'd get on all right. How could they not, when he already felt taken with her?

"I found you." He saw Elisabeth point behind a wheelbarrow. Peter laughed as he stood. Then he picked up the little girl and

tickled her, earning him a bout of giggles. A woman, Nina, stepped off the porch and walked to the man. Her shoulders looked

heavy, but she smiled for the little girl.

"Come inside—I've made you cookies," she said.

"There's a man here." Elisabeth pointed toward him, and no matter how softly he planted his feet, he could no longer watch

unnoticed. "He has a big hat."

Otis waved and walked toward them. The inevitable moment had come. "Hello, there."

Nina looked at her husband. He put a hand on her back. "Welcome, Otis." Elisabeth rested her head on Peter's shoulder. "Sadie

came by earlier. She said you'd be coming sometime. She didn't know when."

"She was here?"

"About a half hour ago. You only just missed her. She went on to her house to see her sisters."

"Did she—"

"Yes." Peter patted Elisabeth's back, a gentle, reassuring tap. "Can we talk without Bessy here? We tried to explain, but—"

"I don't wanna go. I wanna stay with you." She wrapped her arms tighter around Peter's neck.

"Come here, dear. Let's go and have those cookies I made." Nina's voice trembled. She reached for Elisabeth, who looked at

everyone before falling into Nina's arms and burying her head in Nina's shoulder.

Peter didn't speak, his attention fully on Elisabeth until she was in the house and out of earshot. When he turned back, the

furrow of his brows was deeper.

Otis reached for Katie's letter, clinging in desperation to his resolve. Without even having to read it, he heard the words.

"Tell her that what I have done is an act of love—the hardest, most painful act of love, but that for her I would do anything."

"We didn't know." Peter turned away from the house. "No one told us about Reginald or you. We were told she was an orphan

who needed a home. I should have known it was all too simple. We didn't mean to do anything wrong."

"I know," Otis said. Katie's words continued to clamor in his thoughts. She'd wanted Reginald to give their daughter a loving

home, acceptance, and a future. She'd let Elisabeth go and had done the most selfless thing she could, all for the love of

the child. "Had I known sooner, I would have come. I never would have let her suffer, and I—"

He cut himself off and ran a hand over his jaw. It was true, he would have come. He would have faced any fear, any obstacle

in his way, to get to her. But he hadn't known. Due to no fault of his own, he'd been oblivious to the fact that he was an

uncle with a niece in need.

Peter looked back toward the house. "I'm real sorry," he said in a soft voice. "She was so scrawny, so scared, I didn't think to look for family. I just believed what Ned told me. When I saw her and the sorry state she was in, all I worried about was bringing her home and getting her settled and fed." His jaw flexed. "Now she calls us Papa and Mama."

"Tell her that what I have done is an act of love—the hardest, most painful act of love, but that for her I would do anything."

The words grew louder, like a firehouse bell, clanging until someone listened. His father left him, abandoned him, because

it was the easiest thing for his father. It'd been selfish, not an act of love but of ease. The wound had been deep, leaving

scars and remorse, nights of tears and regrets.

Elisabeth burst from the door, her short legs carrying her as she jumped over dirt mounds and ran full speed ahead. "No!"

she shouted. "I don't wanna go. Papa, don't make me."

Peter scooped up the little girl in his arms and buried his face in her hair. "I'm sorry," he said, holding her the way Otis

had yearned to be held as a boy and the way he'd imagined cradling his niece. Peter, lean and long, was a pillar of strength,

reassuring Elisabeth with words of courage and comfort. "Don't be afraid."

Tears threatened to come. He knew what he had to do. His chest ached in anticipation of the words he was about to say and

the dreams that would die because of them. He would not abandon Elisabeth like his father had abandoned him.

"Bessy," he said, using the name she was familiar with, "I can tell you love your mama and papa."

She nodded her small head, her blue eyes finding his. They were so like his own and like Reginald's had been. There was no

denying the blood they shared.

"Good," he smiled, despite the ever-growing pain. "I rode out here to give you these." He pulled the marbles from his pocket. "They were mine when I was young, and they need someone to play with them now. Would you like that?"

She reached her hand out. "I'll play with 'em."

"Oh good," he said, wanting to touch the child's fair hair and wrap her in love. "There's a shooter in there that used to

win me all sorts of marbles."

She pried the bag open and peered inside. "I like the red one."

"That was my favorite too." He tore his gaze from her, afraid his courage would fail him and he'd choose the self-serving

route. Nothing had ever required as much courage as this moment, but for Katie and for Bessy he would say what needed saying.

"I would... I would like to talk to a lawyer and see what needs to be done so that you can forever be Bessy's parents.

I will cover any costs, and I want you to know that you have my blessing. She is where she needs to be."

Nina, who had been on the porch, fell to her knees and sobbed into her hands. Otis couldn't look. It hurt too much.

"Mama," Bessy said.

"Shhh," Peter cooed. "Mama's all right." Peter sucked in a rapid breath, tightened his arms around his daughter, and asked,

"Are you sure?"

"I believe it's what her first mama wanted." He told them about the letter, using careful words so as not to confuse Bessy.

Speaking was difficult. The words stuck in his throat, but he persevered, believing this course the hardest but most correct

choice. "For Katie's sake, I ask that you tell her that her first mama loved her too."

"I will, and I'll never let her forget the love of her uncle," Peter said. They invited him to stay and dine with them, but he couldn't. The decision hurt too much, robbing him of his appetite and leaving him weak and eager to wrestle with the aftermath in private.

"I best be going," he said before walking back to his horse, the sun beating against his back and the road ahead a lonely

one. The agony did not change his mind; it only confirmed that his choice, hard as it was, had come from a place of love.

***

Two days had passed since coming home, and Sadie still did not feel at peace. She sat beside the bed her father had so long

convalesced in. He was still in Des Moines, recovering from his surgery, but here, where she'd seen him last, she felt closer

to him. If only he were here now. She would take his hand and tell him all her troubles. Voicing her faults was never easy,

but she knew he would listen and then give her advice. If he were here, she'd tell him how she kept Elisabeth's whereabouts

to herself and how she'd hurt a man she deeply cared for.

It had been with a heavy heart that she'd told her neighbors about their daughter. They'd cried, and though she knew it was

not a malicious act for Otis to take his niece, she'd come home to let Otis and Elisabeth settle into their life together

without her in the way. Unsure where she would stay if she returned to Monti, she'd remained with her sisters, helping with

the crops and stitching handkerchiefs to sell. Their funds were still tight, but hope was on the horizon, thanks to their

father's recovery and their beautifully growing harvest.

"Sadie." Violette popped her head through the doorway. "I rode over to the Warners' to deliver eggs. She showed me the newspaper."

Sadie left the sickroom and hurried to Violette's side. "What is it?"

"There's a letter to the editor. Alta wrote it." Violette handed her the paper. "Mrs.Warner let me take it so I could show

you."

Sadie searched the page, skimming over advertisements for miracle cures, job listings, a notice about an upcoming Independence

Day celebration, and then, there it was.

Dear Editor and Citizens of Monticello,

As a lifelong resident of this prosperous town, I find it is my responsibility to speak up and help keep our community a wholesome

place. It has come to my attention that a recently returned bachelor, one we all anticipated and revered as an upstanding

citizen, is in fact of low moral character. He was seduced by the likes of a country lass who stayed under his roof for some

time, and it is believed that they have been living a life of iniquity together. It is our responsibility to weed such refuse

from our town.

Sincerely,

Alta Brewer

Sadie sank into the nearest chair. Alta had always been changeable and selfish, but Sadie had never imagined her to be so

spiteful and mean-spirited as this.

"What do I do?"

"I may love gossip, but when it's nothing but lies, I say you just tear it to bits and throw it in the fire." Violette reached for the paper, ready to do the act herself, but Sadie pulled the paper away from her.

"That won't fix anything. Some people will always hate Otis. They'll never stop to see him, and I can't change that. But I

have to do something. It's not right for her to damage his reputation or mine like this." She gritted her teeth, thinking

of Katie and Elisabeth, of the judgments and fear that had shaped the course of so many lives. "This is wrong." She waved

the paper in the air. "This could hurt people who need to be loved, not shunned." She stood, and as it had at the factory,

her voice grew strong. "I will write the editor myself."

"I hope Otis reads it and knows you're sorry and that your heart is his." Violette sighed.

"I left him a letter explaining where I went and my feelings. He hasn't written back or come calling. I'm going to write the

editor because it's the right thing to do, not because I expect anything else from him."

Violette humphed. "I still hope he sees it."