CHAPTER 40

Nighttime at the Cottons

“Mother.”

Destry stirred at the sound of her son’s voice but snuggled deeper into her blankets.

“Mother, can I watch Grandpa stoke the fire?”

Destry pulled the covers from her head and felt the cold bite her nose and ears. “Robbie,” she whispered, “why are you awake?”

“I was asleep,” he said, “but I heard Grandpa stoking the fire and thought it would be fun to watch him.”

Destry listened intently and heard the reassuring shuffle of feet and the bump of logs, as someone was indeed refueling the fireplace. She started to say no because it was too cold to be running around the house at night, but she stopped. Robbie seemed to adore his grandpa. She shuddered, partly from the cold and partly from the thought of Bill Cotton. His maimed arm gave her the creeps.

“Well, all right,” she said, “but hurry back to bed. It’s a very cold night.”

She heard the bump of Robbie’s cast as he slipped from the cot where he had been sleeping. She shivered at the thought of his tiny feet on the cold, hard floor. She was about to change her mind when she realized he was already out the door. Oh well, she thought, we’ll be leaving in the morning, anyway.

Robbie slipped quietly to the parlor, expecting to see the huge shoulders of his grandpa stooped in front of the fireplace, but he stopped when he realized it was someone else. “Uncle Ned,” Robbie said timidly.

The big man turned and smiled at the intruder. “Morning to ya, Master Robbie. Up a bit early, aren’t ya?”

Ned was still dressed in the same rumpled clothes he had been wearing last night. Robbie had a suspicion he had never gone to bed but rather had slept in his chair all night.

“Come to light the fire with me, did ya?” Ned was big, but not like Grandpa. Ned’s bigness seemed soft and friendly, not strong and ferocious. Robbie could imagine Grandpa with his one arm and deep lines in his face, marching into battle. But Ned didn’t look like a warrior. His smile was contagious, and his open arms were inviting.

A small yellow flame crept around the side of a log in the fireplace and cast eerie shadows all around the room. Robbie shivered. He was cold and more than a little frightened.

“Let’s move Grandpa’s chair a little closer to the fire,” Ned suggested.

Robbie watched as Uncle Ned easily lifted the huge chair and set it softly down near the fireplace. Maybe, he thought, Uncle Ned could be a warrior.

Ned settled into the chair, stretching his feet out near the crackling flames. Robbie said nothing but stared with wide eyes at the activity. It didn’t seem to bother Ned. “Ah!” he sighed, wiggling deeper into the chair. “Now it’s all ready,” he said. “Come and warm yourself with me, Master Robbie.”

The little boy crept toward the chair. Ned’s huge hands wrapped about Robbie’s tiny chest, and he swept Robbie into his warm and waiting lap. Uncle Ned was softer than Grandpa. He was softer than Robbie’s dad or mother.

“Ya got cold standing in the shadows!” Uncle Ned chided softly. Thick arms wrapped about the boy, protecting him from the cold or any harm that might be near. Though Robbie had only met the man several days ago, he felt safe in his lap.

“Uncle Ned?” Robbie asked, looking up at the big man’s face, “did you hear Grandpa’s story?”

“Most of it,” Ned yawned.

“But I thought you were asleep,” Robbie said.

“I …” Ned hesitated. “I listen better with my eyes closed,” he said lamely.

“Do you think it was an angel that gave Thomas his key?” Robbie asked thoughtfully.

Ned pondered that. “Maybe I missed that part of the story,” he said. “I’m not sure. What do you think, Robbie?”

“I think it must have been angels,” Robbie said with conviction. “But Uncle Ned, are angels real, or are they just for stories?”

“Well,” the big man said. “I haven’t thought too much about it, but angels are a lot like God. They don’t change much with the passing of time. I imagine they are still around. But tell me now, why are ya so interested in angels, Master Robbie?”

“Will you fall asleep if I tell you a story?” Robbie asked.

Ned squirmed uncomfortably under the lad’s perceptive question. “Tell ya the truth, lad: stories do tend to make me sleepy. I promise I’ll try to listen to yours because it must be mighty important.”

Robbie snuggled tighter into Ned’s lap. He liked the honesty of this big man. He didn’t actually think Ned would hear much of his story, but he wanted to tell someone. “Do you know how I broke my leg?” he asked.

“I gather you fell from the barn loft,” Ned said, yawning dangerously.

“That’s what my mother thinks,” Robbie said quietly. “Do you want to know what really happened?”

“Suppose ya tell me,” Ned yawned again.

Mindful his audience was getting pretty comfortable, Robbie launched into the story he had been afraid to tell his parents for weeks.

Destry awoke with a start. Half sitting up in bed, she spotted Robbie’s empty cot. “Robbie,” she whispered. “Robbie!”

Philip stirred as she slipped out of bed. Brrr! She shivered, pulling a heavy robe about her shoulders. I should never have let Robbie go out to watch Grandpa stoke the fire, she thought. What are people going to think? They’ll think I’m not a good mother. They’ll think I let my child wander around a freezing house while I sleep. She chided herself with every step as she slipped from the room into the hallway.

As she tiptoed down the hall, she noticed that everyone else had left their doors open so heat from the fireplace would dispel some of the cold in their rooms. All seemed quiet in the dim light of early dawn. Her bare feet padded softly on the smooth hardwood floor. This was a pleasant house.

Her eyes strayed as she passed the last bedroom before the parlor. Bill’s bare shoulder and stump were draped over a lump of blankets on the bed. Even in the dim light, she could see the carvings of men and swords on the headboard. She shivered. What strange people, she thought.

Suddenly she stopped. If Grandpa was here in bed, where was Robbie? She had expected to find Robbie with his grandpa.

Her pace quickened, as did her pulse. Where is that boy? She glanced in the kitchen, and seeing no one, she turned back to the parlor. Bill’s huge chair was pulled near the fire. Was Robbie alone in that chair, without a cover and getting cold?

Padding quickly across the room, she stopped in her tracks. There was her son, wrapped tightly in the arms of his uncle Ned. Both were sound asleep with a look of contentment on their faces.

Destry had not met Ned until several days ago, but the scene that met her eyes made her smile. Ned was such a big man, and Robbie was so small. The child was covered and cradled in the most loving manner. She was quite sure Robbie was safe and sound.

Afraid of breaking the spell, Destry turned and tiptoed back to their room. Maybe, she thought as she climbed back under the covers. Maybe this isn’t such a bad gathering after all. Philip stirred and pulled her cold body next to his. Dreamy contentment filled her mind as sleep wrapped enchantment around her heart.

“Breakfast anyone!” Bill called from the kitchen. Mary bustled about the stove, and the clink of utensils resounded down the hall.

Ned and Robbie were the first people Destry saw as she padded into the kitchen. Philip’s arm was about her waist, giving her confidence, but the sight of those two grinning at her from across the table sent shock waves through her soul. What had they been telling the others?

“Morning, Mom,” Robbie called cheerfully. “Can we stay today and let Grandpa finish his story?”

Philip glanced at his father. “Dad?” he asked with a question in his voice.

Bill shrugged. “I haven’t said a word. The wind went down last night, and we can probably have the sled dug out by midmorning.”

Mary smiled at her man. The tension in the room thawed several degrees. Philip nodded, seated Destry, and then settled beside her. Destry noticed that most of the family was there, save some children, but then she realized that Maria, Bill and Mary’s daughter, was missing. She always sat beside her massive husband, Ned.

Destry leaned close to her husband and whispered, “Philip, where is your sister?” She and Philip had spoken often in the last two days of their doubts about the man Maria had chosen. Ned seemed quite laid back and possibly a bit lazy.

Not taking time to think it through, Philip turned and asked casually, “Hey, Ned, where is Sis?”

Ned turned his well-fed face to Philip and said, “She should be the one to tell ya, but mornings aren’t her best time of day.”

The room grew very quiet, and every eye turned toward Ned.

Ned looked around the room, and his face grew red. “I … well … we …” He stumbled over the words. “She and I … blast it all, we’re going to have a baby.”

Eyes grew wide around the room. Ned and Maria had been married quite a few years, and it had appeared to everyone that they were not going to have children. Some even wondered if they should.

Something inside Destry warmed at the thought of this big man holding a tiny baby. The vision of her own son wrapped in his huge arms had melted her heart. “Oh, Ned!” she blurted without thinking. “I’m so glad for you!”

She rarely spoke in the presence of the whole family, and the warmth with which she addressed Ned surprised everyone, including her. She blushed deeply as the whole family stopped staring at Ned and turned their eyes on her.

“Well,” Philip stammered, “congratulations, Ned!”

Ned turned an even deeper shade of red. “Thanks, but could ya all act surprised when she tells ya? I didn’t mean to spoil it for her.”

Mary patted Ned’s broad shoulder and stooped to kiss his cheek. “Believe me, we are all thrilled, and we won’t spoil Maria’s announcement.”

Indeed, the others were glad they had a little time to digest the news so their joy for Maria could be genuine.

“The sled’s out,” Philip called from the door. “Are you ready to go?” he asked as Destry stepped to the entrance to greet him.

She pulled her snow-covered man into the house and closed the door behind him. “You’re letting in a lot of cold,” she chided. “Philip?” She stood on tiptoes to reach his ear. “Can we stay another day? Robbie really wants Grandpa to finish his story.”

Philip’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “What about celebrating a late Christmas with your parents?”

“They’ll understand,” she said. “It might be quite some time before we get back here again.”

“Oh, boy,” Philip said with a grimace. “The boys are going to trounce me good when they find out they did all that work for nothing!” Destry loved him for understanding.

The family had eaten an early dinner after the “boys” had come in from moving snow. The women were finished cleaning in the kitchen, and everyone was gathering in the parlor. Bill grinned as Robbie climbed into his lap. He looked at Destry and mouthed the words, “Thank you!” She blushed and turned to the embroidery in her lap.

Bill surveyed the room. Thomas was stretched out near the fireplace, his three boys curled up near him. Kelsey sat on a straight-backed chair at the edge of the circle, her fingers busy with darning. James and his wife Doreen sat in the circle near Philip and Destry. Ned was in his usual easy chair with Maria curled up on his lap. Her face was still aglow from the praise the family had bestowed on her good news. Bill had a grandson on each knee, and his only granddaughter was perched on his lap as well. The two oldest grandsons lay on the rugs near Grandpa’s feet.

“The Lord has blessed me richly,” he said, looking at Mary and then his family. “I am so thankful for each one of you.”

Ned yawned and shifted in his chair. “Ned,” Maria began to scold. “Daddy’s going to finish his story.”

“Don’t bother him, Sis,” Philip said from across the room. “He moved more snow this morning than the rest of us put together.”

“That’s right,” Thomas added, “and I’m shot.”

Maria smiled and nestled tighter against her man. She was glad he was gaining her family’s acceptance.

“None of you would be here if the Lord had not reunited your grandmother and me,” Bill said. Mary glanced up and saw Bill smiling at her. She smiled and returned to her knitting. After all, now she had someone new to knit for.

“But how did that happen, Grandpa?” a little voice asked.

“Should I start with Grandma’s story, or should I pick up where I left off with Thomas Stafford?” Bill asked.

Answers swirled around the room, but in the end, Mary herself suggested they finish Thomas Stafford’s story.

“All right,” Bill said doubtfully, “but it’s a long story.”