Musing #14 - "In His Hands" Chapter 7

Today's "musing" is . . . 
The final chapter of In His Hands! 
Next post comes out bright and early Saturday morning. Stay tuned! 

Chapter 7

      “Well, here we are, girls.”

Mrs. Davis parked the wagon in the thick of a small yet busy town. I was almost certain Rosie, Eliza, and I hadn’t passed any houses on our way to Mrs. Davis’s farm, so my first thought was, Where did all of these people come from?

Mrs. Davis seemed to sense my unspoken question. “These people have houses a ways from town,” she said. “They all meet on

Sundays.” She swung down from the wagon. “C’mon.”

“Mrs. Davis…”

She looked up. “Yes?” 

I bit my lip and glanced at Eliza, who nodded. We’d discussed it in undertones all the way to town, and, after spending time in prayer, we’d concluded that giving Mrs. Davis a small gift was the least we could do for all she’d done. Without a second thought, I untied Eliza’s dress from my waist and held it out. “Here. It’s for you.”

Mrs. Davis’s eyes grew wide. Her hand shook as she took the dress. “Girls…are you certain? What will your Ma say?”

“Mama would be fine with it,” I said. “She’d say you deserved it, after all you’ve done for us. If it hadn’t been for you…” I shivered and shook my head. “Never mind. Just accept it, please. Make the bonnet you’ve always wanted.”

“Oh, girls.” Mrs. Davis’s eyes watered. “Thank you.”

***

“This is it, girls—Grandmother and Grandfather’s ranch,” I announced.

“We’re here!” Eliza bounced up and down in her seat. “We’re finally here!”

We leaped from the rig the moment it rolled to a stop. Bolting forward, we ran to the nearest person in the large yard—one of my grandfather’s hired hands.

“Excuse me, sir,” I exclaimed, breathless, clutching the man’s vest for support. “Do you know where I could find a Mr. and Mrs. King?”

“Yes.” The man peered down at me. “And you are—?”

“Susan Harris, sir. These are my sisters, Eliza and—”

Wait a second! As in, Susan Harris, Mr. King’s granddaughter?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Oh, my, child! Your grandparents have been in an awful tizzy, wondering where you all have been.” His hazel gaze swept over our poor appearance—torn, dusty dresses, tangled hair, scratched shoes. “Looks like you’ve had yourselves quite a time.” He squinted. “You

really Susan and her sisters, Rosanna and Eliza?”

I nodded.

“Mark!” an elderly man from the house porch called. “Who’s here?”

“Someone claiming to be your granddaughter, sir,” the man named Mark shouted. “Come and see.”

The man wasted no time. He sailed across the yard. Approaching us, he gaped. “Susan? Eliza? Rosanna?”

“Grandfather!” we squealed and ran into his open arms. 

“Oh, it’s so good to see you,” Grandfather said. “Mark, quickly! Go and tell Mrs. King. She’s in the sitting room.”

“Yes, sir. Right away, sir.”

“Where have you girls been?” Grandfather demanded as soon as

Mark had run off. “We’ve been worried sick.” I laughed. “That’s a long story.”

***

“…and then, after services, I paid the last of my money and we rode a stagecoach to California. On arriving, we located the livery in town and told Mr. Marlow, the owner, who we were. He gave us a ride to your ranch,” I finished.

Grandmother, from where she sat on the settee, with a freshly bathed Rosie beside her, shook her head. “You have no idea what a scare you put us through. When you didn’t show up on the intended train, we telegrammed your folks. Your poor ma was so upset. She’d had the baby soon after you’d left—not at the date the doctor had expected—and she’d already been concerned for his health and safety.

Just as soon as she’d recovered from that—with the assurance that her baby would be all right—we had to give her the news that you three were missing.”

“He?” I said, growing excited. “We have a baby brother?”

“Yes,” Grandfather said. His eyebrows drew together. “Don’t change the subject.”

I squirmed uncomfortably. 

“When your ma and pa received the news, they boarded the first train they could. They’ll be here shortly,” Grandfather said. “What are you going to tell them?”

I sighed, then took a deep breath and faced my grandfather. “The truth.”

***

Mama and Pa arrived as planned. They kissed and hugged Rosie, Eliza, and me over and over again and didn’t ask any questions until they were certain we were all right.

Finally, however, the full story poured out. Mama wouldn’t stop crying, and Pa said, “praise God you’re all okay,” between every few sentences. Afterwards, I got the talking-to that I deserved. I gushed out heartfelt apologies, and was swallowed in more embraces. 

When at last the commotion had died down, my new baby brother was put into my arms. A smile about split my face.

“He’s a handsome little blessing,” I said. “Just like you, Pa.” 

I touched the red, wrinkled fingers and toes. I came too close to never seeing this gift. Thank You, Jesus, for bringing us all safely through. I looked up. “Does he have a name?”

“Mama and I are having some trouble,” Pa answered. “We only have the first name picked out—Benjamin. Do you girls have any suggestions for middle names?”

“I do.” I smiled at my sisters. “Isaiah, Joshua, or David.”

“Those are fine middle names,” said Mama. “But we need only

one.”                                

“Joshua,” was my immediate response. “Because it was with courage that we pushed through this whole ordeal—thanks to Jesus.”

I stroked the baby’s cheek. “Benjamin Joshua Harris.”

      

In His Hands © 2018 Ellen Senechal