Edge of the Wilderness - By Stephanie Grace Whitson Page 0,40

shall gather them.

And now, Lord, what wait I for?

My hope is in thee.

Jeb said a hasty “amen” and closed the book.

“I’ve never heard anyone pray that way,” Daniel said quietly.

Jeb shrugged. “Sometimes I don’t know what to say. Fact is, I’ve been kind of holdin’ out on God since our baby boy died last year.” He swallowed. “He was our third child. God took each one before they was a year old.”

Marjorie got up quickly. She turned her back, but Daniel could see her swipe tears from her face as she bent to open the oven and toss fresh biscuits into a basket.

Jeb continued, “Marjorie says we aren’t going to be like heathens and not talk to God. So I got this idea of just reading the Psalms.” He took a swig of coffee before adding, “It gives me words to say when I don’t have my own.”

Daniel nodded. He finished his meal quickly and then went outside to wait for Robert Lawrence and Big Amos. It had been a long time since he had had anything to say to God. He thought that if he could get hold of a Bible again, maybe he would look at those Psalms Jeb Grant was using.

Eleven

Devise not evil against thy neighbour, seeing he dwelleth securely by thee.

—Proverbs 3:29

“Crow Creek?”

The stranger at the door pursed his lips and looked away for a moment. His wide mouth turned down, whether in anger or disappointment, Miss Jane could not quite tell. When he removed his hat with a metal hook instead of a hand, she felt her-self withdraw.

“I apologize, madam,” he said in a beautifully resonant, deep voice. “It’s just that I was caught off guard. I was hoping to speak with Reverend Dane personally.”

“I’m truly sorry. The reverend has been away in Iowa. He was back for a short visit, but then he left again only a few days ago for the west.” Miss Jane looked up at him. “Is there anything I can do?”

The man sighed and shook his head. “I imagine not. Unless—” He hesitated before saying, “I’ve actually come more about the Dane children than anything else.”

“And you are?” Miss Jane asked, looking up into the stranger’s gray-blue eyes.

“Elliot Leighton. Their uncle. Their mother’s brother.”

“Well,” Miss Jane blustered, “why didn’t you say so? Goodness, come in, come in!” She waved Leighton into the entryway of the great house. “Hang your hat right there and follow me into the parlor. Aaron went west with his father, but Meg will be home from school directly, and of course you will have met Miss LaCroix already when she was back east with the reverend and Mrs. Dane.”

Elliot obeyed Miss Jane, hanging his hat on a hook beside the door. “I—uh—didn’t have the pleasure of meeting Miss LaCroix,” he said quickly. He glanced down at his hook. “I was with my regiment when they arrived. And then regrettably detained in the hospital. Word of Ellen’s death didn’t reach me until long after Simon and the children had already come back west.”

“I’m so sorry,” Miss Jane said. “Please come in and sit down. If you’ll just make yourself comfortable—” She indicated a wing chair beside an open window. “As I said, Meg should be home any minute. And Miss LaCroix and the other children are just doing some marketing—”

“The other children?” Leighton asked, frowning.

“Why, yes,” Miss Jane said, smiling. “We’ve quite a little family here. The Whitneys—they own the house—have two of their own, and then there is Hope, an orphan the reverend has adopted, and we have Rebecca and Timothy Sutton, who were orphaned in the outbreak. We are of course trying to contact their family, but there’s been little success in that regard.” Miss Jane stopped abruptly. “Excuse me for rattling on so. I’ll just get you some lemonade.” Miss Jane was gone before Leighton could tell her he really wasn’t thirsty.

The woman’s whirlwind of activity accented the silence in the big house now that she was gone. Elliot sat stiffly in the worn chair he had been assigned, staring down at the despised hook in his lap. He pulled on his sleeve, trying to conceal it. The sound of childish laughter outside caught his attention. Looking out the window he saw a gaggle of children tripping toward the house. His gaze narrowed as a dark-skinned woman came into view. She was petite, fine-boned, with abundant dark hair piled high on her head and a heart-shaped face accented by a cleft chin. Funny, Leighton