Retribution

A knock on the front door of the house brought Caroline Ingalls' head up from her sewing. She laid the shift she was mending down on the hearth and rose and went to answer it. It was early Saturday afternoon, not the usual time for callers. The girls were at the Edwards. Charles was working extra at Hansen's Mill. They had a big order to fill and he'd told her he would be late. She hadn't argued since, as usual, they needed the money. Every now and then she would sit and wonder what it would be like to have extra money, not enough, but more than enough. Why, the dresses she would buy for her girls, and the presents! Laura and Carrie would have one of those fancy china dolls each from the catalog, and she'd buy Mary the most beautiful hat and coat. And Charles? Maybe a brand new fiddle made in France! It was sin, of course, to think that way. The Reverend Robert Alden would be the first one to tell her that, though she didn't need him too. She knew it well enough herself. She might not have extra money, but she had the things money couldn't buy – beautiful, loving, caring children and a fine, strong protector and provider in Charles.

She loved them all so.

Caroline placed a hand on the latch and called out, "Who's there?"

"It's the Reverend Alden, Caroline. May I come in?"

She smiled as she turned the key and went to lift the latch. When she was alone, Charles wanted her to lock the door. While she thought it was a little silly – after all, what was there in Walnut Grove to fear? – at the same time it made her feel even more deeply loved.

'I don't know what I'd do if something happened to you,' Charles had told her just that morning as he went off to work at the mill.

She felt the same about him.

Realizing she was still standing there, holding onto the latch, Caroline replied, "Of course. Just a second."

When the door opened, the reverend doffed his hat and asked, "Is everything all right?"

Caroline shrugged. "I don't know what's wrong with me today, Reverend. I can't keep my head about me. My mind was wandering – "

"Like a lost sheep?"

She smiled and nodded. "It's a good thing I have a Heavenly shepherd watching out for me."

"As well as your earthly shepherd."

She knew he meant Charles. "I'm very blessed," she said with a shy smile. As he stepped in the door, she remarked, "There. See! I'm forgetting my manners too! Would you like some tea? Or maybe some coffee? I can put on a pot."

"Some tea would be lovely."

"Why don't you take a seat at the table and I'll put the water on."

A few minutes later the water was heated and the tea was steeping in the pot. Caroline sat down at the opposite end of the table from the reverend. She'd brought over some bread and jam as well. As she spread the preserved fruit on the piece she had chosen, she asked, "So what brings you to our place?"

The older man drew a deep breath. "The Galenders."

Caroline almost dropped the knife. Her hands began to shake. "The Galenders?"

"I'm sorry," he said, laying his bread on the plate she had provided. "I shouldn't have mentioned it. I need to speak to Charles first, it's just that...well..."

She understood immediately. The minister was worried about her husband's quick temper. "You're afraid Charles might do something rash."

He nodded.

She waited, but when he wasn't forthcoming, asked, "What have they done? The Galenders?"

"It's not so much what they've done, but what they've threatened to do." He looked at her and then shook his head. "No, no. I should speak with Charles about this first. Since it's Saturday, I'd hoped you would both be here and that maybe your presence would temper his reaction. I remember now Charles is at the mill, isn't he?" When she nodded 'yes', he rose to go. "I'll be on my way then."

"You haven't had your tea," she said, hoping she could persuade him both to stay and to tell her whatever news it was he had. "Or your bread."

The older man pursed his lips. "I seem to have lost my appetite. I'll just take the bread with me for later, if that's all right."

"I'll put the tea in something too. You can bring it back later."

"Thank you." The reverend paused and then added, "I'm sorry, Caroline, for needlessly upsetting you. I'll speak to Charles and then I'm sure he will fill you in." As he reached the door, he stopped and looked back. "Please don't worry. It may be nothing more than rumor."

She stood out front of the house, watching as the reverend's buggy diminished in size and then vanished into the distance, wondering what it was that the minister was afraid Charles would overreact to, and that he felt he couldn't tell her. 'Something they've threatened to do', he'd said. Caroline wrapped her arms around her midriff. She couldn't think of anything that had frightened her as much as the encounter she had with the Galender brothers and what they had done to Charles because of it. Like the reverend, she liked to believe there was good in all men, but that belief had been challenged by the Galenders who had come into Walnut Grove with the intent of lying, cheating, and stealing to get what they wanted – and not caring who they hurt in the doing of it.

Caroline shivered. She'd never forget what Charles looked like when Isaiah brought him into the house after he'd gone off to confront them for laying their hands on her. The beating had been severe – so severe she asked Doctor Baker about it and pressed him when he hesitated. He had hemmed and hawed, but finally admitted that something other than fists had to have been used to inflict that much damage. Most likely, a wrist-thick branch.

They could have killed him!

She had thought with the Galenders leaving Walnut Grove that they were gone from their lives, but it seemed now that might have been wishful thinking. Whatever it was the reverend knew, she hoped it was – as he said – only rumor. Rumors often had lives of their own and died when exposed to the truth.

The Good Lord willing, this was one of those times.

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Mary Ingalls sat underneath a tree with her back up against its scratchy bark trying to read a book – 'trying' being the working word. She lowered her glasses and looked across the yard to where her sisters and Alicia Edwards were playing and sighed. Though she'd never been one to run and shout and play as much as her sister, since she'd gotten engaged to John Junior, her mind had begun to turn on more serious things. In a year and a half... She paused and drew a deep breath. In a year and a half she would be married and moving into a home of her own, with her own...husband. A year and a half. Why, a year and a half ago she'd been only twelve and while, as her ma put it, she'd always been a studious child, if the play had been something she liked – say, blind man's bluff or a race – she'd have been out there carrying on like the rest of them.

She guessed, in that way, she was like her ma who had been a school teacher at a young age. She wanted to be a teacher too and both of her parents were proud of her for how far she had come in school – like that time she almost took first prize in mathematics at State. Her pa was especially proud as he'd told her often that he and schooling didn't get on. Pa was a smart man. Smarter than her, she thought, since he had the knowledge it took to do everything to keep her, her sisters and her ma well fed, safe, and secure.

Mary looked at the book she held. It was one John Junior had given her and contained the writings of several different famous men. She loved John with all her heart, but he wasn't a man like Pa. John didn't know much about mending a fence, or plowing a field, and he just plain and simple wouldn't hunt. He'd never be able to provide for her like Pa, not in the country at least. Which meant, when she married him, the most likely chance was that they would move away from Walnut Grove to a city and she might never see her parents and sisters again.

Her Ma had told her that marrying – for a woman – was putting your life in the hands of the man you loved. She'd said too that God had planned it that way, that a woman leave her home and go with the man to build a home of her own, to have children, and to bring them up in the Lord's way to His glory and service. It was what Ma'd done with Pa – put her life in his hands and never looked back.

Mary frowned. She looked at Laura who was whooping and giggling in the grass. She'd just taken a spill off of the old log they'd been climbing on and fallen flat on her back. Mary felt a tickle coax a smile from her lips. She looked at the book in her lap with everything that it represented and then put it aside, jumped up, and ran toward that log.

She was going to treasure every minute she had left.

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"Charles?"

Charles Ingalls looked down from his perch on the mill's broken wheel to find the Reverend Alden looking up at him.

"Morning, Reverend," he said, lifting his hat. The sun was full out today and, even though it was autumn, the temperatures were climbing. He'd put his hat on his head to keep the sun out of his eyes, but all it seemed to be doing was collecting sweat. As he wiped his sleeve over his brow, he asked, "What can I do for you?"

"I'd like to talk to you, Charles."

He frowned. "Can it wait? Lars needs the wheel working as soon as possible."

"Yes, I know you have a large order to fill. I talked to Lars. He said it was all right for you to take a break."

Charles' frown deepened. He put his tools aside and then climbed down off of the wheel. He was covered in grease, dirt, and a healthy coating of sweat. As he held out his hand for the reverend to shake, he said with a smile, "Sorry I'm not in my Sunday best."

"The Good Lord made men to sweat and work hard, Charles. There's no disgrace in it."

He nodded. "Thank you, Reverend. Now what is it you wanted to talk about?"

The older man looked around. Spying a nearby pile of lumber, he nodded toward it. "Shall we take a minute to sit down? Thanks to you lovely wife, I have some nice tea and can break a piece of bread with you."

"You were out to see Caroline?" he asked, growing even more curious as to the purpose of this meeting.

"I had forgotten you were working today. I..." He paused. "Let's sit down."

Charles grabbed a cloth and wiped as much grease as he could from his hands. As he tossed it down, he glanced at the office window and was surprised to find Lars Hansen standing in it, looking out – at him. When Lars saw that he saw him, the older man smiled a tight smile and then disappeared.

What was this all about?

When he came to the wood pile, the brown-haired man perched on the edge of one of the wide boards that made up the pile and looked at the reverend. The older man was pouring tea into a pair of tin cups before him. The reverend looked up when he realized he had arrived.

"I borrowed these from Lars, so remind me to give them back," he said as he offered the drink.

Charles accepted it gratefully and took a sip. "Reverend," he started without preamble, "I can tell whatever you've got to say is troublin' you. I'd ask you to come out with it."

The reverend looked directly at him. "Charles, I'm always the first one to say that the Lord works in mysterious ways, but I can tell you, this time, I am plain perplexed as to His purpose."

"Reverend..."

"There's been a threat made against you and your family."

Charles blinked. "What?"

"Someone intends you harm, Charles – you and yours."

"I don't..." He glanced back at the Mill, understanding now why Lars had given him time off. Turning back to the Reverend, he asked, "Who?"

Robert Alden sighed deeply. "The Galender Brothers."

"The...the Galenders?"

"Yes, Charles, we may have driven them out of our community, but we didn't drive the Devil out of them."

Charles was still reeling. The Galender brothers – George, Sam, and their little brother Bubba – had come into their town as new neighbors and friends and set about bilking every business owner they could as well as taking advantage of the kind and generous people who populated Walnut Grove. It didn't take long for them to reveal themselves to be brutes and bullies and more.

If Caroline hadn't got away...

"Now, Charles," the reverend cautioned, sensing his growing ire, "we need to proceed slowly. All I have is a story communicated by a dear friend whom I trust. There is no proof." Alden paused. "I repeat, there is no proof of what I am about to say. In fact, the very nature of how my friend came to this information makes it suspect."

Charles drew a long breath and let it out slowly. "And how is that, Reverend?"

It was a long and winding story that started in a saloon and ended in a jail just outside of Sleepy Eye, which was apparently where the Galenders had landed after being thrown out of Walnut Grove. A parishioner belonging to the congregation of Robert Alden's friend – a minister named Lavey – had ended up in jail after being involved in a brawl. The sheriff sent word to the Reverend Lavey that the man wanted to talk to him and make a confession. Lavey arrived at the jail near midnight and went immediately into the cell to speak to him. The tale the prisoner told had disturbed him so deeply that he sent a wire the next day to Walnut Grove requesting that Alden come halfway to Sleepy Eye to meet with him.

"I can tell you, Charles, I was as unprepared for the tale John had to relate to me as you were for this news today."

Charles' growing anger had been quashed by a rising, ever-deepening sense of alarm. He was nearly breathless. "Reverend, please."

Robert Alden had a way of thinking and speaking deliberately, as if each word held its own great quantity of weight. Charles supposed it had to do with studying and preaching the Bible. He'd heard whole sermons ride on the back of two words. The minister paused before beginning again.

"I'm sorry, Charles. I don't want to misspeak on a matter of this importance. It is against my beliefs to bear false witness."

Charles impatiently nodded his understanding.

"John and I met in the home of a man of his acquaintance who went out to do his farm work so we could speak privately. The story he told was harrowing. This man – the one who ended up in jail for getting drunk and starting a brawl – had been approached in the saloon by the oldest of the Galender brothers. He said he'd heard of his reputation and wanted to hire him to do a job for them." The older man's eyes held his. "Charles, the man was a hired killer."

He felt the color drain from his face.

"The man told John that George Galender hired him to set fire to a house on the eastern outskirts of Walnut Grove. A house belonging to a man named Ingalls." He paused to let that sink in before continuing. "Your house, Charles."

Sensing there was more, he asked – over a swallow – "And?"

"This next part is what brought the man to confess his sin." The reverend's hand went to his shoulder. "George Galender told him he would be paid on the condition that the house be occupied when the fire was started and..." He drew a breath. "At least one of the women was to be inside."

Alarm and rage collided, propelling him to his feet. "I'll kill him! God help me! I will break him with my bare hands!"

"Charles, now see, this is why I wanted Caroline's soft wisdom along when I told you. Killing any of the Galenders will only land you in jail and leave your family bereft and destitute! Not to mention what it would take for you to atone to your Heavenly Father."

"Where was my Heavenly Father when this was being plotted, Reverend? When one of His creatures was making plans to kill my wife and daughters!" Tears had entered his eyes and he was shaking. "You tell me that!

"I'll tell you where He was," the Reverend Alden said, his voice even, "He was with that man who ended up in the jail, whose eternal soul could not bear the burden of guilt laid upon it by taking the Galenders offer to be paid for murder. Charles, God was with my friend who sent the telegram. You have not been abandoned. You or your family!"

He stood there at war with himself. There was a part of him – the protector of his wife and children – that wanted to get on a horse and ride to Sleepy Eye and track down the Galenders and beat them to within an inch of their lives for even thinking of such a thing! But there was another side – the side of the provider – that only wanted to draw his family into his arms and make certain they were safe.

"Charles?"

He lifted a tear-streaked face and looked at the minister.

"Robert," he said softly, "help me..."

Without saying a word, the Reverend Alden placed a hand on his shoulder and pressed him down toward the ground. Charles didn't fight it as the older man dropped to his knees beside him and there, in the middle of the street, in the course of a busy afternoon, with dozens of wide-eyed passersby stopping to stare, they prayed for the deliverance of his family from evil.

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Isaiah Edwards was a happy man. The sun was shinin', the days were growin' longer, God was in His Heaven – where He oughta be – and his wheat crop was full and right near ripe. Though his heart lay in the things of the mountain – in shootin', and trappin' and huntin' – this farmer's life was all right. It let a man put down roots – he looked down at his feet, at the yellow plants crowdin' out his mule ear boots – sometimes literally! Shaking his leg, the mountain man freed his feet and then began to walk through the endless rows of grain. Doing so always brought his friend Charles to mind. Charles, the born farmer. Why, if Charles weren't farmin', he was frettin' about farmin', and if he wasn't frettin' about it, he was sure enough plannin' to. Isaiah laughed. Grace said Charles was an uncomplicated man – intimatin', of course, that he was on the wrong end of the horse. When he'd asked her once what it meant to be 'complicated', she'd gotten that there dictionary out with its millions of tiny little words and shown him. According to Daniel Webster – whoever he was and why-ever he was someone everybody listened to – a man who was 'complicated' was 'hard to understand, explain, or deal with.'

That had made him raise an eyebrow – well, both of 'em really had shot up toward his grizzled salt and pepper hair. "I ain't complicated," he declared.

"Of course not," Grace said.

And laughed.

As he approached the house, he saw the children playing out in the side yard. It did his heart a good turn to see how close Alicia and Carl had grown to Charles' girls. The five of them were running and whooping like a band of Indians on the warpath to the side of the house. Grace was hanging wash out on the line. The first thing he noticed was her tidy trim waist – just right for a man to put two hands around, squeeze tight, and pick up and twirl.

Catchin' the children's eye, Isaiah raised a finger to his lips. They all stopped to look. He shook his head and made a circular motion with his hand, indicatin' they should keep playin' so's Grace would be none the wiser. She was bent over now, facing the opposite direction, reaching for one of them there funny things she wore under her clothes – completely unsuspecting. Opening his arms and then spreading his fingers wide, he wiggled them, making the children giggle. Grace caught a lock of her hair that was blowin' in the wind and pulled it back behind her ear as she turned toward them.

It was his signal to go in for the kill.

"Isaiah Edwards!" came her more than fitting shout as his big hands closed around her small waist. "Whatever do you think you're doing?"

"Cain't a man cozy up to his wife on his day off?" he asked as he lifted her off her feet. "I thought maybe you and me'd go inside..."

"Isaiah!" Grace's eyes were wide. Her words came out in a short, kinda testy whisper. "What will the children think?"

"That you're the most be-a-u-tiful woman in all of Walnut Grove, and the luckiest!" He twirled her in a tight circle. "'Cause you got me!"

Laura was giggling and jumping up and down, holding hands with Carrie who was doin' the same. Mary had that tight little smile, the one that showed she was laughing inside but was too goldarned growed up to let it out. Carl and Alicia, well, they was bustin' a gut.

"Isaiah! Put me down!"

"All right, woman," he said, starting to lower her. Then he whirled with her again. "After we finish this dance." And with that he began to sing 'Old Dan Tucker' and waltz about the yard with her. He'd just put Grace down – glowin', laughin', her dark blonde hair blowin' in the breeze and lookin' beautiful – when Mary, Laura and Carrie lit up like a Jack O'Lantern on All Hallows Eve.

Laura was the first to say it. "Pa!"

They was like a tidal wave, those girls. Charles didn't stand a chance.

He watched the three of them strike their pa like a ball hittin' nine pins. The brown-haired man pretended to be surprised as he fell before their assault and the four of them hit the grass, laughin'.

Well, the girls were laughin'. Charles was tryin' to. His friend had one of those laughs that made the world take notice and remember, for just a minute, that joy was just around the corner and you could catch it if you moved fast enough.

That weren't the laugh he was laughin' now.

Isaiah walked over and peeled the first layer off, puttin' his hands around Carrie's little waist and holdin' her in the air kickin' and squealin' like a little piggy.

"Whoa, there. Whoa! Give your Pa time to come up for air," he laughed.

Charles disentangled himself from the eight remaining limbs and rose to his feet. As Mary and Laura wrapped their arms around him and squeezed him tight, he did that funny little thing with his mouth. It weren't quite pursing his lips, but it was somethin' like it, only his lips turned up instead of down like most folks.

"Isaiah," he said with a nod.

"Did you come to take us home, Pa?" Laura asked, looking up at him like he was the best present she could ever have.

Charles laid his hand on her head. "Not yet, Half-pint." He looked his way. "I came to talk to Mister Edwards. You go on and play a while longer."

"Thank you, Pa!" the little squirt shouted, huggin' him again.

As he watched, Charles pulled her close and hugged her tight in return, wrappin' his arms around her and pullin' her in against him.

There was somethin' desperate about it.

Grace was standing by his side. He gave her that look and said, "Didn't you say you'd made some milk and cookies for this brood? I'm thinkin' it's time this here gaggle of gigglin' girls got their treat! Carl too," he added, grinning at his son.

His wife was looking at Charles. She hadn't missed it. "Certainly, Isaiah." Grace caught her skirts in her fingers and headed for the house. "Come on now."

She didn't have to ask twice.

"Pa?" Mary asked for all of them.

Charles nodded as he released Laura. "You go ahead. Have fun. I'll see you both 'bout supper time."

"Thank you, Pa!" Mary and Laura chimed in chorus and then, catching Carrie by the hand on either side, lifted her up and swung their little sister between them as they followed Alicia, Carl, and Grace to the house.

Isaiah watched Charles watch them go. There was something in the set of his friend's shoulders – they was slightly rounded, as though he had the weight of the world perched on them and it were almost more than he could bear.

The mountain man hesitated a moment and then asked, "Charles, what's wrong?"

The eyes his friend turned on him were haunted. Charles said nothing for several heartbeats and then suggested, "Let's take a walk."

When the brown-haired man said nothin' more, he nodded. "Sure. Where you want to walk to?"

Charles eyes went right to the field of ripening grain. "How about through the wheat?"

"Just checked it out, but don't mind doin' it again."

"Good."

His friend held his gaze for a moment and then began to walk. Isaiah followed. They walked for nigh onto five minutes before Charles stopped. When he did, he turned to look at him. "I...I wanted to be away from the house. I don't want the girls to hear."

"There ain't nothin' wrong with Caroline, is there?" Isaiah asked, sensing whatever it was that troubled his friend was a hard thing to talk about.

"Caroline's fine." Charles paused. "For now. That's what I wanted to talk to you about. I need to ask you a favor – a big one."

It were like pullin' hen's teeth for him – askin' for somethin'. "Ask away, friend."

Charles hesitated and then said, his voice pitched low. "I need you to take in Caroline and the girls for a few days. Maybe longer." He paused again, and then went on. "I'll bring enough food for them, so as not to put you out – "

"Charles, that ain't necessary."

"Yes, it is!" he snapped, and then instantly thought better of it. "I won't be accepting charity. We'll pay our own way. I just need a safe place for the family to stay until I can handle a matter that's come up."

"Safe?" He knew his friend. It was a hard row to hoe to get Charles to admit he needed help. The fact that he was askin' for Caroline and the girls to stay with them said a lot towards whatever was wrong. "Charles, what's this about?"

The brown-haired man was lookin' away, toward the horizon. He turned and faced him. In Charles' green eyes was a mix of frettin' and fear. He might almost have called it panic.

"Isaiah, I need you to...trust me on this for now. I don't know anything for certain and it could be I'm blowin' in the wind. I need to make sure, and I need to be on my own to do it."

Isaiah knew how to read that. "You're goin' it alone, whatever 'it' is."

"I'm not even sure if there is an 'it'. I need to find out and I have to go out of town to do so." He looked at him, his eyes pleadin' for understandin'. "All I can tell you is that Caroline and the girls may be in danger and I need to know they're somewhere safe." He paused. "You're the first person I thought of. I know how much the girls...mean to you."

"Charles, what is this?" He paused. "I need to know what I'm guardin' against to do it right."

His friend's shoulders rose and fell in a sigh. He thought a moment longer and then said, "All right. It's the Galenders."

Isaiah frowned. "The Galenders? You mean that riffraff what we drove off from Walnut Grove with their tails between their legs a few months back?"

Charles nodded. "I have it from a reliable source that they've threatened my family."

"Good God, Charles! Why didn't you say so. I'll pack up a horse and kit and –"

"Isaiah, no. A man needs to be with them as much as possible. I..." His friend met his eyes. There were unspent tears in Charles'. "My only regret is that by taking Caroline and the girls in you may be bringing the Galenders' wrath down on your family as well."

"I can handle myself with that kind of vermin," he replied.

A slight smile crinkled the ends of Charles' eyes. "I know. That's the reason I asked."

Isaiah's gaze went to the house where the children were enjoying their milk and cookies, happily unaware of any trouble. "Are you gonna tell them?" he asked, nodding toward it.

"No. There's nothing they can do. It will only frighten them."

"What about Grace?"

Charles actually smiled. "Tell her. She'll figure it out anyway."

The mountain man nodded his agreement. "What about Caroline?"

"I have to go back to Hansen's and finish a few things. I'd appreciate it if you would walk the girls home in an hour or so, so they can get to their chores." He paused. "I'll tell Caroline about this tonight once they're in bed. If it works, you can bring them with you after service."

"All right."

Charles reached out to put a hand on his shoulder. "Thank you, Isaiah. You're a true friend."

As the brown-haired man started to pull away, he said, "Charles, I got one more thing to ask you."

His friend looked back. "What?"

"Truth now."

He stepped closer. "Truth."

"Are you in danger?"

Charles met his concerned gaze, his own weary and wary.

"Isaiah, I just don't know."