Free Indigo Christmas by Jeanne Dams Page B

ditch.”
    â€œHe was walking?”
    â€œYes, the farmer—Miller, his name is—had taken the wagon and both the horses. Jenkins wasn’t supposed to take the buggy out anyway, I guess, but his friends think he would have if there’d been a horse to pull it. There wasn’t, so he walked. But Hilda, you don’t have to worry about him bein’ caught in the flames that way. That’s the funny thing.”
    â€œFunny? Patrick, nothing about this is funny!”
    â€œPeculiar, then. The firemen who saw the barn, when it was burning and afterwards, swear that fire must have blazed up in a snap of your fingers. But the dead man wasn’t found there by the door. He was up in the hayloft, in the far corner away from the door, layin’ down nice and peaceful-like. He was hardly burned at all. They figure he died from breathin’ in the smoke when he was dead to the world from the drink. They say he likely didn’t know anything about it atall.”
    â€œBut then—Patrick, you are right. It is peculiar. He could not have dropped the lantern?”
    â€œNot and get away from the fire in time, they say.”
    â€œAnd there were no horses on the farm. Were there cows? Dogs? Other animals?”
    â€œJenkins should have brought the cows home to be milked, but he didn’t. They were in a fine state when a neighbor rounded them up next day, I hear, achin’ with too much milk and bellerin’ like anything. The hogs have their own pen, the chickens were in the yard, and Mr. Miller took the two dogs with him.”
    â€œThen—the wind knocked over the lantern, maybe.”
    â€œNo wind that day. It was dead calm. That’s the only reason the brigade could save the house and the other buildings. Wind from the wrong direction and it all would’ve gone up.”
    â€œThen, Patrick— how did the lantern fall?”
    Patrick opened his mouth to reply, when a loud and prolonged shriek came from upstairs. It was followed by silence, and then an unmistakable wail.
    Patrick and Hilda looked at each other. A delighted smile slowly spread across Hilda’s face.
    Brisk footsteps came down the stairs, and Aunt Molly entered the parlor, a broad smile on her face as well. “Hilda, my dear, when she’s had a bath and been dressed, you’ll have to come upstairs and meet your namesake, Fiona.”

    Patrick, after a quick handshake for the jubilant Sean, headed back to work, and Hilda found she had recovered her appetite. She was joined by Norah’s mother, who was exhausted but serene. Sean was too excited to eat. He had been allowed one glimpse of his daughter, just before the doctor left, and could only babble about her. “Beautiful, she is! Head full of black hair, just like me! And strong! Just listen to her!”
    â€œIt is hard to do anything else,” said Hilda with a grin. Indeed the baby upstairs was howling lustily, protesting against every detail of her new environment.
    â€œShe wants her mother,” said Aunt Molly. “As soon as she’s allowed to suckle she’ll be quiet enough. But you’re right, Sean, she’s a good healthy baby. It’s a fine granddaughter you have, Mrs. Murphy.”
    â€œMe first one,” said Mrs. Murphy, glowing. “Grandsons, five of them, but this is the first little girl.” Her face clouded. “Well, there was one—me oldest son’s—but she died after two days. Weak and puny she was, we all knew she couldn’t live. This one, she’s a hearty wee thing.”
    â€œAnd beautiful!” said Sean. “Such hair! And her hands, so tiny, but perfect…”
    Hilda and the others listened patiently. A man’s first child comes along but once.
    As soon as Hilda and Mrs. Murphy had finished eating, they helped Aunt Molly clear away. Eileen was still helping Mrs. O’Rourke with Norah and the baby, so Molly and Mrs. Murphy set about washing