Free Lyn Cote by The Baby Bequest

Brawley. I thought it kind of your wife to help me out in this unusual situation.”
    He looked somewhat mollified. “I just don’t want anybody getting the wrong idea.”
    “If your good wife and I come to an agreement, I’ll make certain everyone knows she is doing it out of the goodness of her heart, and that I’m beholden to her kindness.” Ellen scanned the room and found what she’d hoped for—a clean, orderly house.
    “Okay, then,” he said gruffly, offering what passed for a placatory grin. “I got animals to see to. I’ll leave you womenfolk to thrash this out.” Pulling on his hat from a peg by the door, he left them.
    “Won’t you sit down, miss?” The woman motioned toward one of the chairs at the table.
    Drawing in a deep breath, Ellen agreed. “Where are you and your husband from?” Ellen asked, thinking how touchy the man’s pride had been.
    “We grew up west of Chicago, but my husband wanted his own farm so we headed north.” The woman sounded as if she’d rather not have come to the frontier.
    Ellen had chosen to come to Pepin for her own reasons, not a husband’s. “I’m from Galena myself,” Ellen said, keeping the conversation going, and soon they were chatting about leaving one’s family. The letter in Ellen’s pocket reminded her of her own.
    “Now, you don’t mind taking care of an orphan?” Ellen asked.
    “Oh, no, it’s not the child’s fault,” Mrs. Brawley replied quickly. “And I’ll treat him just like my own.” As they talked more, Ellen noted the woman’s ease with William and the excellent attention she gave her own child. When Ellen was satisfied Mrs. Brawley had no prejudice against a foundling, they agreed upon both wage and plan. Mrs. Brawley would pick the child up each morning before school and Ellen would come fetch William each day after school. They shook hands and Ellen left, feeling as if everything were neatly taken care of.
    Except for the unread letter from her sister sitting like a hot potato in her pocket.
    The letter presented another fiery trial Ellen must endure. Could she bear to read about Cissy and her new husband? After she’d put William down later that night, Ellen finally faced her trepidation. With sure fingers, she opened the letter and began reading.

    August 23, 1870
    Dear Ellen, dearest sister,
    Why did you leave before we returned from our honeymoon? Randolph said something about your wanting to spend a long visit with Ophelia before the school year started. I didn’t realize that you’d made the decision to take the teaching position in Pepin definite. Was I so involved in my own affairs that I ignored this?
    I know that we’ve been through a difficult time, losing Mother and Father. But then Holton came into my life and I thought it would make a happy new beginning for all of us...

    Ellen could read no further, her heart squeezing so tight she felt strangled. She folded the letter and slid it into her music box’s secret door. Her fingers trembled and she forced back tears. She gazed around at her one room with its few familiar possessions—the music box, the quilt her grandmother had sewn for her, a sampler her great-grandmother had stitched as a girl in Massachusetts. She clung to these as Holton’s betrayal wounded her afresh with every memory of home.
    I’ll read more tomorrow when I can handle it. She could no longer hold back the tears, and they ran down her cheeks. I’m glad you’re happy, Cissy.
    * * *
    On Monday evening, Kurt waited till Johann had gone to bed early as usual. Then he found his brother sitting outside on the bench by the door, gazing at the surrounding forest, the last of the sun’s bronzed rays sifting through the trees and branches. Kurt sat down beside him and Gunther made room for him.
    Kurt understood Gunther’s fascination with the forest. At home in Germany very few forests had been preserved. Had Germany looked like this once—a vast forest with little villages, overshadowed by