Page 24 of Her Gentle Protector
“Nothing an oil lamp and some matches wouldn’t cure,” Baxter grumbled, double-checking the contents. “Hand me that cloth.” Rex helped him stretch a thick canvas over everything, tying it securely with a rope. “We can find a basket or something for the kittens when we get back.” Turning to Petunia, he gave her a small grin. “You ready to learn some hunting and trapping?”
“I sure am! Show me everything you know,” she demanded, excitement in her voice.
He grabbed his rifle from underneath the buckboard seat and followed Rex and Petunia from the barn towards the woods along the creek. Rex pointed out various tracks and signs of animal life, explaining which traps to use for different prey. Petunia absorbed every word, her focus never wavering.
Baxter stood upwind, watching his brother, as he patiently pointed out the various tracks in the mud and how Petunia could tell which direction an animal was going based on broken branches. Rex took after Ma, with a never-ending supply of patience.
Unlike Baxter, who just wanted things done.
He listened to Petunia ask questions, as he walked further in the woods until he came to a clearing where a large home stood. The two-story log cabin made of wide, hand-hewn pine logs. Hand-crafted shingles covered the roof, and shutters framed the windows on either side of the door. A porch, which ran the entire width of the house, was solid and a hand pump rose from the dirt, so the woman of the house didn’t have far to go for collecting water.
Wildflowers grew with abundance on one side of the house, and he could spy an overgrown garden on the other. Walking over, he could see there were still vegetables in the garden. He pulled an onion from the earth and brushed off the dirt before tucking it into his pocket.
When her husband died, Mrs. Callaghan and her four children headed back east, leaving the home and many of their belongings behind. Usually, when a house was empty, the bank would seize it and sell it at a heavily discounted price. That’s probably how the Beales gained their property so cheaply. The land and home could bring in much more money; it all depended on how much debt the owners owed to the bank.
He prayed Whit’s response would come soon.
Spying an apple tree on the corner of the property. Baxter walked over and plucked an apple from the tree, admiring its shine before taking a bite. The crisp crunch filled his ears as the sweet juice flooded his mouth. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve, glancing around the rest of the property. It was clear Mr. Callaghan had taken great care of the land before he died.
He wondered what the inside looked like. Chewing thoughtfully on the apple, he made his way to the porch and jiggled the latch. The door opened to a large room. Several posts divided the room into sections and held up the second floor. An enormous stone fireplace stood at one end, and Baxter immediately recognized that Weston Chapman must have built it. Marmee had a similar fireplace in her house. A three-burner cast-iron stove stood against one wall, along with an empty wood box. The cupboards were bare and there wasn’t a pot to be found, although the hooks for hanging them were still on the walls.
It surprised Baxter to see that the house still had furniture. In the center of the room was a long oak table with a jar atop it, filled with withered flowers. He could imagine Midge and the children sitting around the table.
As Baxter walked around the room, he noticed a picture frame resting against the wall. It was a picture of Mrs. Callaghan and her husband, taken before his death. The cracked glass divided the couple, just as they had been divided in life. Mrs. Callaghan was a petite woman with dark hair and deep brown eyes, and her husband was a tall man with a bushy beard. The picture captured a moment of love frozen in time.
What would it feel like to have a love that nothing but death could part? Baxter realized his parents didn’t really love each other, but they made it work while Pa was alive. When he married, Baxter promised himself it would only be for love. Nothing less would do.
He explored the house a little more, wandering from room to room, taking in the cozy charm of the place. There was a bedroom with a large bed, a blue ticking mattress, and a handmade rag rug on the floor.
There were two other rooms that contained only mattresses lying on the floor.
He imagined living in a home like this with a warm fire, a beautiful wife, and a large family. As he made his way back downstairs, Midge invaded his thoughts. Eight siblings are not what he thought of when he considered having a large family. He needed to get the young woman off his mind and remember he was just doing his Christian duty by taking care of his neighbor.
As he made his way back to the porch, he saw Rex and Petunia walking toward him.
“What happened to you?” Petunia cried as they arrived at the farmhouse, her eyes widening in wonder. “Whose place is this?” She hurried to join Baxter on the porch.
“Is this the Callaghan home?” Rex asked.
“Yeah. She’s the one that went back to South Carolina with her children.”
“I’m surprised she lasted as long as she did.”
“I’m going inside to look,” Petunia said, pushing into the door.
“How was your hunting lesson?” Baxter asked his brother.
Rex rested his foot on the edge of the porch. “Good. She’s a quick study.”
“As long as you don’t stand too close.”
“That’s fixable. So, tell me, how’s it going over there?”
Baxter rubbed his hand down his face. “What do you want to know?”
“Is she pretty?”
“Midge? She’s... something else,” Baxter said, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “And definitely not what I expected.”
