ELEVEN
The shades had been pulled against the afternoon sun. The drapes drawn to eliminate even the little rays that escaped from the gap between shade and window. To Matt Dillon's daughter the room seemed as dark and frightening as her worst nightmare. Katie sat in the corner of her crib sucking on her thumb and clutching her blanket. Her sobs had quieted to periodic hiccups. She wanted Bow-bo the bear. For in her mind, as long as she had the stuffed toy, she knew Bow-bo the cowboy must be closeby. A tear slipped from her cheek to the blanket. She missed Mama, her sweet scent and loving arms, her voice, her laugh and the tender songs of lullaby. She missed the ranch house, and the sights, sounds and smells that went with it. Katie was a valiant soul and bravery was in her heart, but her world had been turned upside down, and she didn't have the words to express the grief she felt. Today had been the final straw.
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Molly Mulgrew waited patiently by the front door, her Sunday bonnet tied neatly under her chin, and Katie perched on her hip. The sound of hurried footsteps and doors opening and closing could be heard from the floor overhead."Molly, have you seen my sewing bag?" Alma Tucker called from the second floor landing. "I thought for sure it was up here."
"I'm thinking you left it on the kitchen table." Molly hollered back. "I'll get it for you." Setting Katie down on the floor, she cautioned the child, "Now you be staying right there." She turned to go to the kitchen, but loud frantic pounding on the front door stopped her.
"Doc Bill." a distraught male voice called from the other side of the door. "Doc Bill, for God's sake open up!"
"Holy Mother of God!" Molly exclaimed as she answered the door. A young farmer stood on the front porch; he was red faced and sweating from exertion and worry. Perspiration darkened his shirt front and shadowed his armpits.
Her voice was kind as she ushered him into the front parlor. "Are you ill?" She asked. "What's wrong?"
The young man took off his hat, and held it in his hand. His voice was anxious, "It's my wife, her time's come, and she ain't doin so good. We need Doc Bill."
As a physician's wife, Alma Tucker was used to such interruptions. She calmly descended the stairs. "He's at the Helgemoe place, won't be back until late, but, maybe I can help." Walking up to the young man, she assured him, "I've assisted the doctor many times. I've even brought a few babies into the world on my own." Reaching out, she patted his arm. "Don't you worry none. Just give me a moment to put together the extra medical bag and gather a few supplies. You can saddle that little roan mare in the barn for me." Glad for something to do, the young man nodded his head, and left for the barn, to ready Mrs. Tucker's horse.
Alma turned to Molly, "Dear, you'll have to go to the Ladies Aide Quilting Society without me. I'm sure it will be just fine. Most of the women are good Christian ladies, but watch out for the Reverend's wife, Hildegard Abbott." Before Molly could ask any questions, Alma Tucker had left the room. Molly picked up Katie and followed her to Doc Bill's office. Alma had opened a black medical bag and was looking through its contents.
"Why?" Molly asked.
"Why what, Molly dear?" Alma replied as she opened a glass-fronted cabinet, and lifted out a dark colored bottle and placed it in the bag. Turning to a narrow wooden dresser, she opened its drawers and selected several instruments. She carefully wrapped them in white linen before placing them with the rest of her supplies,
"Why must I be watching out for Mrs. Reverend Abbott?" Molly queried apprehensively.
Alma looked up from her work long enough to reply. "Because dear, she thinks she is the Queen of Yellow River, and not a very nice queen at that." Closing the doctor bag, she patted Molly's shoulder. "Now, I must be going, just smile nicely and say `yes' to everything she says and enjoy the other ladies, they are very nice." Dropping a quick kiss on Katie's forehead, Alma grabbed the bag and hurried out of the room.
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The Ladies Aide Quilting and Bible Society was meeting in the basement of the newly constructed Methodist church. A large quilting frame dominated the center of the room. The members of the group were seated strategically around the stretched fabric. A small area had been fenced off with the purpose of corralling young children. A half dozen toddlers currently occupied the pen, all of them close in age to Katie. Molly looked around the room; she felt her uneasiness grow. Having been raised as a good Irish Catholic girl, from Carrington, in County Cork, Ireland, the thought of worshiping in a Protestant church would, under normal conditions never have occurred to her. But, Yellow River had no Catholic church nearby, so she and Seamus had agreed to occasionally make do with the one church available. Furthermore, as hired help living in the country she was not used to socializing with these ladies. "I'm not liking this." Molly whispered in Katie's ear.
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Hildegard Abbot was a rigidly girdled, broad beamed woman in her middle thirties. Her substantial nose, was set between small eyes, topped with heavy dark brows. Oily black hair was secured into an elaborated arrangement of girlish banana curls, which bounced foolishly with her every movement. Opinionated and judgmental, she self-righteously ruled her husband and the church at Yellow River with an iron hand. She had a low opinion of Kitty Stambridge, even though Kitty had been generous in her donations to the church since her arrival in town.
"I know an easy woman when I see one." She had told the Reverend. "With that red hair and indecent figure she is certainly a work of the devil, created to keep a God fearing man from thinking pure thoughts." Of course the good minister could not argue with that. Mrs. Abbott regarded Molly Mulgrew as an inferior creature, not only was she an Irish Catholic, next to being a pagan in Hildegard's book, but she was a servant.
It was with great reluctance that Molly had agreed to accompany Mrs. Tucker to the church function, agreeing only because she knew it would please Alma. She'd no sooner approached the quilting frame than Mrs. Reverend Abbott started barking out orders. "Just put the child in the pen Mrs. Mulgrew, and come over here to join us," Seeing Molly hesitate she said, "We can't get anything accomplished if we have to keep an eye on the children." Reluctantly Molly lowered Katie into the pen.
"Do not worry, my little Hobart will take care of her, he is quite used to the play pen." Her patience with the Irish woman clearly at its end, she commanded, "Come sit down now, we've wasted enough time."
Giving Katie an apologetic smile, Molly left her in the pen and joined the other ladies around the quilt frame. She sat in a chair next to Mutti Hermann. "Auch, dat Katie ist a pretty little fraulien." Mutti said. The German lady had a smile that started at sunrise and didn't end until sunset; it was punctuated on either side by a pair of deep dimples. Round blue eyes lit up her face, and made the word cheerful come to mind. She was a small woman, but well-rounded as years of apple-strudel and dumplings will do. Her once golden hair was braided and wound around her head like a silver coronet. "She takes after her mutter, Ja?"
Molly nervously nodded her head, and cast a wary glance back at Katie in the pen. The baby's eyes were wide as she held tight to her bear. Mutti looked back at the baby too. She nudged Molly in the ribs and said in a low whisper, "I tink Hildegard would put us all in da pen if she could." She chuckled a little as the formidable figure of Mrs. Abbott stood before the group. "Auch, now she going to talk again. Dat Hildy could talk da bacon off da hog."
Hildegard adjusted her corset and propped her imposing bosom on her forearms. She surveyed the group, "As I was saying before we were interrupted. The Reverend and I had a very enjoyable time in Denver. My sister's home being the most elegant of places, her husband is the president of a bank, don't you know. It was so refreshing to be entertained by the truly genteel. Of course, I'm not one to brag, but it is the truth when I tell you that everyone just fell in love with little Hobart, he was passed from lap to lap. Each remarked they hadn't seen a prettier or sweeter child. And they just couldn't get over how well he talks . . . " She stopped speaking for a moment to look around her chair. "Oh now where did I put my bag . . . I have my sewing supplies in it." A light came to her face as she recalled where she had left the sack. "Mrs. Mulgrew, do run up stairs to the church narthex and retrieve my sewing bag."
Under normal circumstances Molly would have rebelled at being ordered about so, but this was anything but normal. Heeding Alma Tucker's parting words of advice, she simply answered, "Yes ma'am."
Katie watched Molly leave the room. With a sinking heart, she listened as the sound of her footsteps faded on the wooden stairs. She wanted to cry, but instead hugged her little bear to her small person with all of her might. Molly would be back, Molly wouldn't leave her too.
Behind her Hobart Abbott played bully to the rest of the group. The small pen had a box filled with toys; blocks, a ball and a set of carved wooden animals. Going from child to child the little tyrant had striped each toddler clean of their toys; they lay in a pile on his side of the pen. Wiping his runny nose with his shirtsleeve, he scowled at his pen mates, daring them to trespass on his designated territory. Now he spied Bow-bo. Moving as cautiously as an animal stalking his prey Hobart closed in. Katie turned with a start to see Hobart ready to pounce. He grabbed for Bow-bo, but her quick reflexes caused her to tighten her grip. "Mine." She warned. "No -no . . . "
Hobbie challenged, "My toy." A tug of war followed between Katie and the drippy nosed, bullyboy. Hobart was six months older and 15 lbs. heavier than Katie. It was an unfair fight from the beginning, but Katie held tight. Mrs. Abbott hearing the cries of her darling, hefted herself out of the chair and marched over to the toddler's pen.
"What is going on here?" She demanded.
"Bad baby." Hobart responded, as he pointed a slimy finger at Katie.
With both arms wrapped around her bear, Katie declared again. "Mine."
"I see." Mrs. Abbott told her son. "She's not sharing with Mommy's `ittle Hobbie."
The woman grabbed at Bow-bo and used her considerable bulk to yank him out of Katie's arms, ripping the toy's arm in the process. "We share here, young lady, it is the Christian thing to do." She admonished.
Regarding the well-loved bear with contempt, Hildegard declared, "This toy is disgusting. The only thing it's good for is the garbage heap." Holding Bow-bow with thumb and fore-finger she carried him to a large barrel and dropped him in. She returned to the pen, bending at the waist, she shook her stout finger in Katie's face, "Now do you see what comes from not sharing?"
"Bow-bo?" Katie questioned, unable to believe anyone take away her bear. Leaning against the fencing, she stretched her arms out for her toy. "Bow-bo, Bow-bo . . . " She cried his name over and over. Hobart stood beside her, taunting her, repeating the words, "Bad baby . . . " Like her father Katie was slow to anger, but like her mother she could not contain her temper when sorely provoked. Stomping her little feet, Katie lashed out at Hobart. The minister's wife roughly grabbed Katie from the pen. "That is enough young lady." She ordered. "There will be no hitting in this house of the Lord." With that proclamation she upended the baby and administered five hard smacks to her little behind. Katie wailed in indignation, pain and despair.
Upstairs in the church proper, the baby's screams reached Molly's ears. Her mind filled with pictures of what might be causing such a reaction. Forgetting Mrs. Abbott's sewing bag, she frantically ran down the narrow basement steps. Hildegard Abbot was holding Katie at arms length. "Mrs. Mulgrew, I would thank you to remove this mischief maker from our midst. I vow and declare, we have never had trouble among the children until this one was put in the pen."
Poor Katie at this point was completely out of control. She grabbed Molly and clung to her while her wails echoed throughout the stone-walled basement. Molly raised her voice to be heard above Katie's cries, "T'wod be our pleasure Ma'am, to be gettin away from the likes of you."
She turned sharply and stomped up the stairs. Her head held high, screaming baby in her arms, she walked home as quickly as she could. Once home she dried the child's tears with a cool damp clothe. "There, there Katie my love, t'will be alright."
She rocked the baby until she thought she was asleep and put her down in the crib. Katie lay still until the door closed. She sat up in the darkened room looking around, hoping that somehow Bow-bo had found his way back to her. When she saw that he hadn't, she grabbed the blanket. It was a poor substitute for the bear her daddy had so lovingly given to her. It brought little comfort. She felt very alone in the world. Finally she lay down, and closed her eyes. She softly breathed one last word, before exhaustion claimed her. "Ma-ma."