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Emma Lou Wilmington and Miss Angel belong to me. None of the other characters are mine.
Warning: This chapter contains a character death, of a slightly graphic nature. It isn't any worse than would be shown on TV, really, but still...you've been warned.
Feedback is always appreciated; thanks to Beth, Lu, Lacey, Katy, and Theresa who responded so positively to Chris' story.
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Emma Lou Wilmington sighed in fond exasperation at her small son. He was getting so big, just like his daddy. Ben Wilmington had been a strong, well- muscled man with the same dark hair and twinkling blue eyes he'd bestowed on his son. He'd been a lumberjack, traveling through the small Kansas town where fifteen-year-old Emma lived with her parents and eight brothers and sisters.
It had been love at first sight.
He'd married her six weeks after they met, with the blessing of both her parents. The newlyweds had traveled out west to seek out new opportunities. They had had some rough times, but had eventually settled in a small town in the New Mexico territory about five months after their wedding. Emma had set up house quickly, wanting everything to be perfect for the baby she was now expecting. With great reluctance, Ben left a week or two later, knowing that he needed to find work to support his growing family, but still loathing to leave his young wife and baby-to-be.
He never came home.
Emma had waited faithfully for months, but no word ever came with any indication as to what had happened to her husband. He was dead, that she knew, for nothing less than death would ever keep her Ben away from her. Little Buck became her pride and joy. She had to resort to prostitution, having no other way to earn money, but she retained her pride and she taught her son the same. She would never let the circumstances of her life determine the person he'd become.
The arrival of a dapper young gambler with a small colored boy in his care changed her outlook. The first time he told her he loved her both made her heart sing and broke it at the same time. She loved Ezra, and she always would, but a small part of her heart did and always would hold the hope that her Ben would come home someday. She simply couldn't bring herself to marry again. She hadn't told Ezra that, though; he didn't even know about Ben. She had simply told him that she didn't want him burdened with the social stigma of a former prostitute as a wife. Emma smiled slightly, remembering that Ezra had never stopped asking. His latest proposal had been scarcely a week earlier.
Now her little boy, Ben's boy, stood before her, holding a huge, dripping wet, and rather disgruntled bullfrog in his chubby hands. "Look, Ma, ain't he swell? Can I keep 'im? I'll call him Froggy!"
She kissed his head. "No, Buck honey, you should take him back where you found him. He doesn't belong with people; he belongs with the other frogs. He's probably missing his family right about now. "
Buck frowned. "You think so?"
"Mm-hmm."
The six-year-old heaved a huge sigh. "Okay then, Ma, I'll put him back."
She watched Buck trot off with a tear in her eye. He was so much like Ben it sometimes made her heart ache to think that her Buck was never going to know what a wonderful man his father had been. She only hoped she could raise him as well as Ben would have.
Buck, meanwhile, was blissfully unaware of every single worry his beloved mother had. To him, the world consisted of the beautiful and loving women that shared his house, and of Mr. Ezra, who was, Buck was certain, absolutely the best man in the whole world. He wasn't at all like the men who came to visit his ma and the other ladies. Those men were mean and never paid him any attention and sometimes they even went so far as to hit his mother and 'aunts.' That made Buck mad, but Ma had said he must never fight and so he worked off most of his anger the way most boys did: he played it away. He climbed and swam and ran and jumped and just generally got dirty. Emma fussed sometimes, but secretly she was pleased that her boy really was no different than any other, no matter what the other mothers in town said.
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After Froggy had been safely returned to his family, Buck set off in search of further mischief. He soon found it in the form of a large apple tree that was just begging to be climbed. He couldn't resist the siren's call and soon was well over twenty feet above the ground. 'Wow,' the boy thought, 'You can see everything from up here. Look, there's the church, and Mrs. Potter's store, and the livery, and there's my house!"
Buck waved at his mother, who was standing out in front of the brothel, but she couldn't see him. He frowned slightly, and began to descend when he saw a large scruffy man take hold of her arm and roughly shove her into the house. When Buck made it to the bottom of the tree, he started to run back home as quickly as his short legs would allow.
He arrived to see the other ladies gathered nervously in the kitchen. "What's happenin'? Where's Ma?"
Miss Angel, who ran the cathouse, took Buck's hand. "She's with a man right now, mijo. You must wait here with us."
At just that moment, a pained scream echoed in the wooden walls and Buck knew the voice for his mother's. "He's hurtin' her!"
He struggled to break Angel's hold, but was not strong enough. "Let me go!"
"No, Buck, no. You might be hurt as well. She will be alright."
Buck pretended to give up just long enough for the woman to relax her hold, then he pulled away with a fierce jerk and ran towards his mother's room. What he saw there made him wish that he'd stayed with Angel.
Emma lay on the floor, dress ripped and shredded in some places. Her breasts were exposed and covered with bite marks and vicious looking bruises that extended down her torso to her waist. Blood oozed from her torn and swollen lips, and both of her eyes were puffy and black. She wasn't moving.
The same scruffy man from the boardwalk was standing over her, pants unfastened and a hungry leer on his unwashed face. He was oblivious to the entrance of the small boy, that is, until Buck grabbed a candlestick from the night table and started hitting him with it. "You leave my mama alone!" He swung blindly, heedless of the many times the candlestick connected with flesh.
The cowhand didn't have a chance. When he turned, Buck's improvised weapon hit him directly between the legs, effectively ruining any plans he'd had for fun with Emma or any thoughts he'd had of retaliating against Buck. He dropped like a newborn calf, moaning in a strangely high-pitched voice.
Buck ignored him altogether, instead dropping to the floor beside a weakly stirring Emma. "Ma?"
"Buck..." her voice trailed off into a painful sounding cough. When it subsided, blood spotted the floor under her head. She wasn't so far gone as to not realize that meant she was bleeding inside. "Buck," she tried again. "Go to...Ezra. Be...safe." She touched his cheek with a trembling hand. "I...love you. Don't ever for...get...that." The hand dropped limply to the floor and her final breath left her with a whoosh.
Buck clutched the unresponsive hand tightly to his chest. "Ma? Please wake up, Ma. That man's still here. You gotta get up so's we can leave. He can't hurt us no more if we leave. Please, Ma, please wake up."
That was how Angel and the others found him a short time later, once they'd worked up the courage to investigate the eerie silence coming from the bedroom. The pretty Mexican girl felt her eyes fill with tears. "Oh, Emma."
She tried to cajole Buck away, to separate him from the rapidly cooling body of his mother, but he resisted. "Buck, mijo, your Mama is gone. We must leave her now."
He said not a word, didn't even shake his head, simply ignored her. It was as if her words went unheard. "Buck?" She tried again, this time reaching out to touch his shoulder.
The effect was electric. Buck sprang away from her touch, slapping reflexively at the hand. Angel was shocked; Buck had never struck her before. "Mijo?"
He glanced up at her, and she was struck by the confused agony in his usually happy blue eyes. He made no indication that he recognized her, instead looking through her as if she were a ghost. After a moment, his body followed his gaze, bolting out the door and racing out of the house as if the hounds of hell were on his heels. No one made a move to stop him, mistakenly believing that he'd come home when he'd calmed down a bit.
It would be three days before anyone saw Buck again.
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Sheriff Travis looked sadly at the door of the building now known as Standish House. The old man had retired from his judgeship after Evie's death, and had come to this town to be nearer to Mary and Billy. He had accepted the job of sheriff after the boredom of retirement finally threatened to drive him insane. He was now doing what was quite possibly the hardest thing he'd ever done besides bury his wife and son.
Ezra knew what was coming before Sheriff Travis had a chance to speak. He'd felt Emma Wilmington's death the moment it had happened. It had been like someone had sucked all the air out of his lungs. His fears were confirmed when he saw the look on Travis' face. "She's gone." His calm voice was in direct opposition to the pain now ripping apart his heart.
The sheriff removed his hat in respect for the dead and nodded. "I'm so sorry, Ezra."
Ezra nodded and made a half-hearted attempt to ask the older man inside. Sheriff Travis refused, sensing that Ezra was close to breaking down and knowing that he would want to be alone when that happened. "I just didn't want you to hear it later in town."
"Thank you. Good day, Sheriff."
"Goodbye, Ezra."
Ezra shut the door like a man in a dream. He was unaware of his walk up the stairs, and later he wouldn't remember locking himself in his room. All he would remember was the all-consuming emptiness eating his soul. The love of his life was gone. It didn't really matter how or why, just that it had happened and that he'd never be the same again. He sat down on his bed and his eye happened to fall on the small box sitting on his side table. The box contained the ring he'd tried to give Emma repeatedly, the ring he'd have continued to offer her until she accepted. That was too much.
The tears came slowly, but increased in volume and intensity until they could clearly be heard even down the hallway. He howled at the top of his lungs, no longer caring about what others thought or even if he was scaring the boys. Nothing else so much as crossed his mind, not even one small, lost six-year-old with dark wavy hair and his father's blue eyes.
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Two days later, Emma Lou Wilmington was placed underneath a weeping willow, in the exact spot where she and Ezra had picnicked and talked the day away countless times. It was the place he'd first proposed to her, and the first place they'd made love. Ezra had known, beyond any doubt, that this was where she would have wanted her final resting place to be.
Buck wasn't there for the funeral. After the initial burst of grief, Ezra had gone to the brothel to get him, only to find he wasn't there. Angel had told him she thought that he'd be back after he'd had some time to mourn, but Ezra wasn't so sure. He knew just how close Buck and his mother had been. He was well aware of the intense pain the small boy must be feeling.
He looked everywhere he could think of Buck might have gone, but to no avail. Josiah and Nathan had joined the search as well, but no one had found even a sign of the orphaned boy.
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After the funeral, Ezra tried to return to his regular routine, but found that he didn't have the heart to do any more than go through the motions. He even failed to notice the odd way Chris had begun sneaking food off the supper table and retreating to the barn every evening.
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Nettie was the one to bring it to his attention the day after Emma's funeral. "Ezra, have you noticed anything...odd...about Chris lately?"
"Odd? In what way?"
"Well, it's just that last night and tonight he ate a great deal more than usual."
"Well, Nettie, he is a growing boy."
"Yes, but it's more than that. Ezra, he ate at least two whole carrots at both meals."
This got Ezra's attention. "Carrots? Chris?" Chris hated carrots with a passion.
"Yes. I wanted to know if you knew of a reason he might suddenly be craving them."
Slowly Ezra shook his head. "No, as far as I know he still dislikes them. However," an idea began forming in his head. "I know of someone who likes carrots very much." He smiled knowingly at Nettie. "I'll talk to Chris. I believe I know what is behind his sudden change of heart."
He found Chris in the same place the young blond could often be found when he wanted to be alone: the small pond on the edge of the Standish House property. The child was sitting by the water's edge, legs drawn up with his chin resting on his knees. Ezra sat by him, adopting a similar position.
They sat in silence for several minutes before Ezra spoke gently "Mrs. Wells tells me you've developed a sudden interest in carrots."
The six-year-old flashed him a slightly guilty glance. "Well, they wasn't actually for me."
"I thought as much." Ezra laid a hand on the boy's back. "Where is he, Chris?" Chris hesitated, and Ezra smiled. He was nothing if not loyal. "It's alright, Chris, I won't be angry with Buck. But I need to know where he is. I'm worried about him."
This seemed to reassure Chris. "He's in the hayloft." The boy's voice became nearly inaudible. "He misses his mama."
Ezra drew Chris closer. "I know." He rubbed the blond locks. "I think maybe he's not the only one."
Chris blinked away sudden tears. "I'm fine."
Ezra knew that for the lie it was, but he'd let it go for now. Chris was not unlike him in that way. He was always rather reluctant to reveal his pain, no matter how fresh and raw it was. He hugged Chris once more before regaining his feet. "I better go check on him. Are you coming back to the house?"
"In a minute."
The man nodded his acceptance of Chris' need for solitude and headed off to the barn to comfort the other grieving boy.
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Talking Buck out of the hayloft was a harder task than Ezra had anticipated. While part of the boy knew his mother wasn't coming back, he wouldn't let himself accept it. He had convinced himself that he had to stay hidden until the bad man was gone and she would come to collect him. He informed Ezra of this rather heatedly when the man stood underneath him pleading for him to come down.
"Buck, please come down. You must be hungry; at least come and eat something."
"Nuh-uh. No way, not til Ma comes to get me."
"Buck, your mama's not going to come. She's gone to Heaven like Chris and Josiah and Nathan's mamas." Ezra's voice faltered but he managed to keep his composure.
The stubborn six-year-old shook his head, oblivious to the fact that Ezra couldn't see him. "I ain't coming down and you can't make me."
Ezra sighed. "Alright, then. I'll just leave the lantern here in case you change your mind." As he headed out the barn door, he threw one final incentive up to Buck. "We all really miss you, you know. We'd really like you to come down so we could see you again."
There was no response so Ezra continued on his way. He knew that Buck had to come down eventually, but he still couldn't stop the feeling that he'd failed both Emma and her son somehow.
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Meals were delivered to Buck in the barn for the next several days, but he ate sparingly. Ezra was at least gratified to see that he drank every bit of the water and milk provided to him. He knew Buck came down occasionally, for the trail of hay from the barn to the outhouse was not exactly sneaky. He simply had yet to catch the boy at it.
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A week and a half after Emma's funeral, Ezra made a visit to her grave as he had begun doing every day. He was surprised to see the small forlorn figure already sitting there. He debated with himself whether or not to interrupt, but his soft heart made the decision for him. He approached warily, unsure how his presence would be received.
He needn't have worried. Before he could even take a seat, Buck glanced up and saw him standing there. He turned his eyes back to the stone without saying anything.
Much as he'd done the week before for Chris, Ezra sat down, unconsciously mimicking the pose Buck was in. This time he said nothing, and they simply sat together for a long hour before the small boy leaned against his shoulder. In turn, Ezra wrapped an arm around Buck and offered his silent support. Buck sniffed. "She said she'd always be here."
"She will, Buck." Ezra tapped his chest with one finger. "Right here."
Not until the sun went down and Ezra realized that Buck had fallen asleep did either move. Ezra lifted the limp body, careful not to wake him, and carried him to the bedroom that had been designated for him ever since Emma had been killed. The conversation he knew was coming would wait for sunrise.
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Emma Lou Wilmington and Miss Angel belong to me. None of the other characters are mine.
Warning: This chapter contains a character death, of a slightly graphic nature. It isn't any worse than would be shown on TV, really, but still...you've been warned.
Feedback is always appreciated; thanks to Beth, Lu, Lacey, Katy, and Theresa who responded so positively to Chris' story.
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Emma Lou Wilmington sighed in fond exasperation at her small son. He was getting so big, just like his daddy. Ben Wilmington had been a strong, well- muscled man with the same dark hair and twinkling blue eyes he'd bestowed on his son. He'd been a lumberjack, traveling through the small Kansas town where fifteen-year-old Emma lived with her parents and eight brothers and sisters.
It had been love at first sight.
He'd married her six weeks after they met, with the blessing of both her parents. The newlyweds had traveled out west to seek out new opportunities. They had had some rough times, but had eventually settled in a small town in the New Mexico territory about five months after their wedding. Emma had set up house quickly, wanting everything to be perfect for the baby she was now expecting. With great reluctance, Ben left a week or two later, knowing that he needed to find work to support his growing family, but still loathing to leave his young wife and baby-to-be.
He never came home.
Emma had waited faithfully for months, but no word ever came with any indication as to what had happened to her husband. He was dead, that she knew, for nothing less than death would ever keep her Ben away from her. Little Buck became her pride and joy. She had to resort to prostitution, having no other way to earn money, but she retained her pride and she taught her son the same. She would never let the circumstances of her life determine the person he'd become.
The arrival of a dapper young gambler with a small colored boy in his care changed her outlook. The first time he told her he loved her both made her heart sing and broke it at the same time. She loved Ezra, and she always would, but a small part of her heart did and always would hold the hope that her Ben would come home someday. She simply couldn't bring herself to marry again. She hadn't told Ezra that, though; he didn't even know about Ben. She had simply told him that she didn't want him burdened with the social stigma of a former prostitute as a wife. Emma smiled slightly, remembering that Ezra had never stopped asking. His latest proposal had been scarcely a week earlier.
Now her little boy, Ben's boy, stood before her, holding a huge, dripping wet, and rather disgruntled bullfrog in his chubby hands. "Look, Ma, ain't he swell? Can I keep 'im? I'll call him Froggy!"
She kissed his head. "No, Buck honey, you should take him back where you found him. He doesn't belong with people; he belongs with the other frogs. He's probably missing his family right about now. "
Buck frowned. "You think so?"
"Mm-hmm."
The six-year-old heaved a huge sigh. "Okay then, Ma, I'll put him back."
She watched Buck trot off with a tear in her eye. He was so much like Ben it sometimes made her heart ache to think that her Buck was never going to know what a wonderful man his father had been. She only hoped she could raise him as well as Ben would have.
Buck, meanwhile, was blissfully unaware of every single worry his beloved mother had. To him, the world consisted of the beautiful and loving women that shared his house, and of Mr. Ezra, who was, Buck was certain, absolutely the best man in the whole world. He wasn't at all like the men who came to visit his ma and the other ladies. Those men were mean and never paid him any attention and sometimes they even went so far as to hit his mother and 'aunts.' That made Buck mad, but Ma had said he must never fight and so he worked off most of his anger the way most boys did: he played it away. He climbed and swam and ran and jumped and just generally got dirty. Emma fussed sometimes, but secretly she was pleased that her boy really was no different than any other, no matter what the other mothers in town said.
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After Froggy had been safely returned to his family, Buck set off in search of further mischief. He soon found it in the form of a large apple tree that was just begging to be climbed. He couldn't resist the siren's call and soon was well over twenty feet above the ground. 'Wow,' the boy thought, 'You can see everything from up here. Look, there's the church, and Mrs. Potter's store, and the livery, and there's my house!"
Buck waved at his mother, who was standing out in front of the brothel, but she couldn't see him. He frowned slightly, and began to descend when he saw a large scruffy man take hold of her arm and roughly shove her into the house. When Buck made it to the bottom of the tree, he started to run back home as quickly as his short legs would allow.
He arrived to see the other ladies gathered nervously in the kitchen. "What's happenin'? Where's Ma?"
Miss Angel, who ran the cathouse, took Buck's hand. "She's with a man right now, mijo. You must wait here with us."
At just that moment, a pained scream echoed in the wooden walls and Buck knew the voice for his mother's. "He's hurtin' her!"
He struggled to break Angel's hold, but was not strong enough. "Let me go!"
"No, Buck, no. You might be hurt as well. She will be alright."
Buck pretended to give up just long enough for the woman to relax her hold, then he pulled away with a fierce jerk and ran towards his mother's room. What he saw there made him wish that he'd stayed with Angel.
Emma lay on the floor, dress ripped and shredded in some places. Her breasts were exposed and covered with bite marks and vicious looking bruises that extended down her torso to her waist. Blood oozed from her torn and swollen lips, and both of her eyes were puffy and black. She wasn't moving.
The same scruffy man from the boardwalk was standing over her, pants unfastened and a hungry leer on his unwashed face. He was oblivious to the entrance of the small boy, that is, until Buck grabbed a candlestick from the night table and started hitting him with it. "You leave my mama alone!" He swung blindly, heedless of the many times the candlestick connected with flesh.
The cowhand didn't have a chance. When he turned, Buck's improvised weapon hit him directly between the legs, effectively ruining any plans he'd had for fun with Emma or any thoughts he'd had of retaliating against Buck. He dropped like a newborn calf, moaning in a strangely high-pitched voice.
Buck ignored him altogether, instead dropping to the floor beside a weakly stirring Emma. "Ma?"
"Buck..." her voice trailed off into a painful sounding cough. When it subsided, blood spotted the floor under her head. She wasn't so far gone as to not realize that meant she was bleeding inside. "Buck," she tried again. "Go to...Ezra. Be...safe." She touched his cheek with a trembling hand. "I...love you. Don't ever for...get...that." The hand dropped limply to the floor and her final breath left her with a whoosh.
Buck clutched the unresponsive hand tightly to his chest. "Ma? Please wake up, Ma. That man's still here. You gotta get up so's we can leave. He can't hurt us no more if we leave. Please, Ma, please wake up."
That was how Angel and the others found him a short time later, once they'd worked up the courage to investigate the eerie silence coming from the bedroom. The pretty Mexican girl felt her eyes fill with tears. "Oh, Emma."
She tried to cajole Buck away, to separate him from the rapidly cooling body of his mother, but he resisted. "Buck, mijo, your Mama is gone. We must leave her now."
He said not a word, didn't even shake his head, simply ignored her. It was as if her words went unheard. "Buck?" She tried again, this time reaching out to touch his shoulder.
The effect was electric. Buck sprang away from her touch, slapping reflexively at the hand. Angel was shocked; Buck had never struck her before. "Mijo?"
He glanced up at her, and she was struck by the confused agony in his usually happy blue eyes. He made no indication that he recognized her, instead looking through her as if she were a ghost. After a moment, his body followed his gaze, bolting out the door and racing out of the house as if the hounds of hell were on his heels. No one made a move to stop him, mistakenly believing that he'd come home when he'd calmed down a bit.
It would be three days before anyone saw Buck again.
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Sheriff Travis looked sadly at the door of the building now known as Standish House. The old man had retired from his judgeship after Evie's death, and had come to this town to be nearer to Mary and Billy. He had accepted the job of sheriff after the boredom of retirement finally threatened to drive him insane. He was now doing what was quite possibly the hardest thing he'd ever done besides bury his wife and son.
Ezra knew what was coming before Sheriff Travis had a chance to speak. He'd felt Emma Wilmington's death the moment it had happened. It had been like someone had sucked all the air out of his lungs. His fears were confirmed when he saw the look on Travis' face. "She's gone." His calm voice was in direct opposition to the pain now ripping apart his heart.
The sheriff removed his hat in respect for the dead and nodded. "I'm so sorry, Ezra."
Ezra nodded and made a half-hearted attempt to ask the older man inside. Sheriff Travis refused, sensing that Ezra was close to breaking down and knowing that he would want to be alone when that happened. "I just didn't want you to hear it later in town."
"Thank you. Good day, Sheriff."
"Goodbye, Ezra."
Ezra shut the door like a man in a dream. He was unaware of his walk up the stairs, and later he wouldn't remember locking himself in his room. All he would remember was the all-consuming emptiness eating his soul. The love of his life was gone. It didn't really matter how or why, just that it had happened and that he'd never be the same again. He sat down on his bed and his eye happened to fall on the small box sitting on his side table. The box contained the ring he'd tried to give Emma repeatedly, the ring he'd have continued to offer her until she accepted. That was too much.
The tears came slowly, but increased in volume and intensity until they could clearly be heard even down the hallway. He howled at the top of his lungs, no longer caring about what others thought or even if he was scaring the boys. Nothing else so much as crossed his mind, not even one small, lost six-year-old with dark wavy hair and his father's blue eyes.
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Two days later, Emma Lou Wilmington was placed underneath a weeping willow, in the exact spot where she and Ezra had picnicked and talked the day away countless times. It was the place he'd first proposed to her, and the first place they'd made love. Ezra had known, beyond any doubt, that this was where she would have wanted her final resting place to be.
Buck wasn't there for the funeral. After the initial burst of grief, Ezra had gone to the brothel to get him, only to find he wasn't there. Angel had told him she thought that he'd be back after he'd had some time to mourn, but Ezra wasn't so sure. He knew just how close Buck and his mother had been. He was well aware of the intense pain the small boy must be feeling.
He looked everywhere he could think of Buck might have gone, but to no avail. Josiah and Nathan had joined the search as well, but no one had found even a sign of the orphaned boy.
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After the funeral, Ezra tried to return to his regular routine, but found that he didn't have the heart to do any more than go through the motions. He even failed to notice the odd way Chris had begun sneaking food off the supper table and retreating to the barn every evening.
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Nettie was the one to bring it to his attention the day after Emma's funeral. "Ezra, have you noticed anything...odd...about Chris lately?"
"Odd? In what way?"
"Well, it's just that last night and tonight he ate a great deal more than usual."
"Well, Nettie, he is a growing boy."
"Yes, but it's more than that. Ezra, he ate at least two whole carrots at both meals."
This got Ezra's attention. "Carrots? Chris?" Chris hated carrots with a passion.
"Yes. I wanted to know if you knew of a reason he might suddenly be craving them."
Slowly Ezra shook his head. "No, as far as I know he still dislikes them. However," an idea began forming in his head. "I know of someone who likes carrots very much." He smiled knowingly at Nettie. "I'll talk to Chris. I believe I know what is behind his sudden change of heart."
He found Chris in the same place the young blond could often be found when he wanted to be alone: the small pond on the edge of the Standish House property. The child was sitting by the water's edge, legs drawn up with his chin resting on his knees. Ezra sat by him, adopting a similar position.
They sat in silence for several minutes before Ezra spoke gently "Mrs. Wells tells me you've developed a sudden interest in carrots."
The six-year-old flashed him a slightly guilty glance. "Well, they wasn't actually for me."
"I thought as much." Ezra laid a hand on the boy's back. "Where is he, Chris?" Chris hesitated, and Ezra smiled. He was nothing if not loyal. "It's alright, Chris, I won't be angry with Buck. But I need to know where he is. I'm worried about him."
This seemed to reassure Chris. "He's in the hayloft." The boy's voice became nearly inaudible. "He misses his mama."
Ezra drew Chris closer. "I know." He rubbed the blond locks. "I think maybe he's not the only one."
Chris blinked away sudden tears. "I'm fine."
Ezra knew that for the lie it was, but he'd let it go for now. Chris was not unlike him in that way. He was always rather reluctant to reveal his pain, no matter how fresh and raw it was. He hugged Chris once more before regaining his feet. "I better go check on him. Are you coming back to the house?"
"In a minute."
The man nodded his acceptance of Chris' need for solitude and headed off to the barn to comfort the other grieving boy.
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Talking Buck out of the hayloft was a harder task than Ezra had anticipated. While part of the boy knew his mother wasn't coming back, he wouldn't let himself accept it. He had convinced himself that he had to stay hidden until the bad man was gone and she would come to collect him. He informed Ezra of this rather heatedly when the man stood underneath him pleading for him to come down.
"Buck, please come down. You must be hungry; at least come and eat something."
"Nuh-uh. No way, not til Ma comes to get me."
"Buck, your mama's not going to come. She's gone to Heaven like Chris and Josiah and Nathan's mamas." Ezra's voice faltered but he managed to keep his composure.
The stubborn six-year-old shook his head, oblivious to the fact that Ezra couldn't see him. "I ain't coming down and you can't make me."
Ezra sighed. "Alright, then. I'll just leave the lantern here in case you change your mind." As he headed out the barn door, he threw one final incentive up to Buck. "We all really miss you, you know. We'd really like you to come down so we could see you again."
There was no response so Ezra continued on his way. He knew that Buck had to come down eventually, but he still couldn't stop the feeling that he'd failed both Emma and her son somehow.
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Meals were delivered to Buck in the barn for the next several days, but he ate sparingly. Ezra was at least gratified to see that he drank every bit of the water and milk provided to him. He knew Buck came down occasionally, for the trail of hay from the barn to the outhouse was not exactly sneaky. He simply had yet to catch the boy at it.
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A week and a half after Emma's funeral, Ezra made a visit to her grave as he had begun doing every day. He was surprised to see the small forlorn figure already sitting there. He debated with himself whether or not to interrupt, but his soft heart made the decision for him. He approached warily, unsure how his presence would be received.
He needn't have worried. Before he could even take a seat, Buck glanced up and saw him standing there. He turned his eyes back to the stone without saying anything.
Much as he'd done the week before for Chris, Ezra sat down, unconsciously mimicking the pose Buck was in. This time he said nothing, and they simply sat together for a long hour before the small boy leaned against his shoulder. In turn, Ezra wrapped an arm around Buck and offered his silent support. Buck sniffed. "She said she'd always be here."
"She will, Buck." Ezra tapped his chest with one finger. "Right here."
Not until the sun went down and Ezra realized that Buck had fallen asleep did either move. Ezra lifted the limp body, careful not to wake him, and carried him to the bedroom that had been designated for him ever since Emma had been killed. The conversation he knew was coming would wait for sunrise.
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