A Child Will Lead Them

Maine, 1908

Chapter 1

Victoria stumbled as her booted foot found yet another muddy hole in the near-flooded path. Icy sleet pounded mercilessly against her head and face, yet remarkably, she was hardly aware of the pain it was causing. The howling of the gusty wind seemed to envelop her screaming voice and the realization that Cammy might not be able to hear her calling intensified her fear. Still, she continued forward into the dark and unending woodland before her.

In the back of her mind, she knew she should have gone for help, but the severity of the storm had made her panic at the thought of her three-year-old out in the woods alone.

It had started out as such a lovely day—cool, but sunny. Cammy had been thoroughly delighted to go with her mother to town and deliver hand-sewn garments to the mercantile. As usual, she had waited patiently in front of the display case for Victoria to finish the transaction. In truth, she had been staring at the lovely little baby doll in the display case for as long as Victoria could remember, though not once had she asked for it. Victoria had been saving up for quite some time so that she could give her daughter a rare treat for her upcoming birthday, but impulsively decided to surprise her with an early gift. Grinning, she bent down and whispered softly into Cammy’s ear, giving her consent to purchase the doll.

Flashbacks of the glorious smile Cammy had given her surged through Victoria’s mind, and no amount of time or darkest storm could erase the picture of her daughter’s joyful face. The memory of how Cammy had then showered Victoria’s face with loud wet kisses was nearly her undoing; the pain it caused blinded her with a greater intensity than the raging storm.

Dear Father in Heaven, be with me now, and lead me to my baby! she sobbed. Be with Cammy, Lord. Protect her with your mercy!

By now, Victoria’s legs felt numb from the cold. The temptation to despair nearly overwhelmed her, but her maternal instinct and faith demanded she carry on. She ignored the numbness and willed her legs to continue onward. Though the sound of her voice seemed to immediately be swallowed up by the storm, Victoria cried out yet again. Cammy, where are you? Cammy…Caammyy!

Where could she be, Lord? Why did she leave the house when I told her to stay put? Oh, Lord, Mr. Brackman’s land goes on for miles…it is almost too dark to see…

In the next instant, Victoria found herself face down in a puddle of muddy water. Sharp pain sliced through her forehead; frustration and fatigue threatened to engulf her. She rolled over and made an attempt to get up, only to feel herself slip again. As she reached up to brush her heavy hair away from her eyes, her fingertips came in contact with a warm wetness.

I am bleeding.

Dread coursed through her entire being at the thought. Physically, she felt defeated. Still, her heart would not, could not, surrender.

Oh, Lord, I can’t give up! I cannot give in to fear now! Cammy is all alone in the world…you know that. She has only me…only me to trust and care for her. Help me, please!

Cammy! Cammmmyyyy…Please, darling….answer me! she shouted into the deafening tempest just before her world went dark.

Chapter 2

Garrett Paul Westfield couldn’t believe his bad luck. He had thought it would be such fun to surprise his Uncle Angus by arriving unannounced; but the surprise was his as he attempted to travel through the late September squall. In all of his twenty-nine years, he had never experienced a storm of this magnitude—at least not before the month of November anyway.

It was such a strange storm—needle-sharp shards of ice pelted his face as lightning and thunder charged through the wet night air with grandeur. Garrett had sailed through rough, stormy seas and raging winds many times, but was sure this peculiar squall would never be forgotten. Still, there was hope in the knowledge that he had at last reached the edge of his uncle’s property. With any real luck at all, he’d arrive before the older man retired to bed. Despite the cold wetness that had seeped into his bones, Garrett smiled into the night at the thought. He lowered his head deeper still into the collar of his coat and spurred his tired mount forward.

Though it was becoming increasingly difficult to see, the lightening became his ally as he tried to make his way toward his destination. Garrett was impressed by his uncle’s property and made a mental note of the number of buildings that had been added since he’d been there three years ago. Instantly, he felt a great deal of pride to know that Angus was fairing so well with his logging business.

So deep was he in thought, that he was caught unaware when his horse lunged forward, his hoof stumbling into a muddy rut. Though he was nearly thrown, Garrett acted quickly and managed to aright himself and the horse in just seconds. He then deftly swung himself down from the horse’s back to allay the damages.

There, there, Midnight, ol’ boy. Let me see if you’ve hurt yourself, he crooned as he patted the horse’s neck.

With only the lightening to guide his hands, Garrett gently examined the leg as best he could. Much to his dismay, he could feel a slight swelling above the horse’s right hoof. A thorough assessment of the damage was impossible; the night was too dark, the sleet unrelenting, as it continued to pelt his face. Common sense told him that he should not continue to ride Midnight for fear of doing serious damage to his leg. Still, the storm was worsening. Frustrated, he swore under his breath.

I need to find shelter.

Looking around, yet still unable to see anything but glimpses at a time, Garrett spoke as much to himself as he did his horse. Midnight, we’re going to have to find a place for you to rest before we go on. I just hope we can find it soon.

Though he was unsure of which direction to go, Garrett took hold of the reins and led Midnight forward. Suddenly, he recalled seeing a few small buildings near the edge of the woods and felt the urge to turn back. He quickly took pause however, as he remembered that the buildings had appeared too small for any real shelter from the storm. In consideration of his lack of other options, Garrett reluctantly turned around and headed in their direction.

He was thankful for the natural sense of direction he possessed; for had he not been a sailor, he would have never found his way. Just when it appeared that the storm couldn’t possibly get any worse, it did. Walking a straight path became nearly impossible against the hurricane-like winds that attempted to sway and drive him backward. Much to his relief, however, occasional lightening lit up the sky, helping him to see the faint outline of a building in the distance.

With the assumption that it belonged to one of Angus’ hired hands, he hoped the tenant would help him treat Midnight and possibly allow him to tether the horse in the makeshift barn behind the house. As he drew nearer to the small dwelling, Garrett immediately felt disheartened as he realized that the house appeared too dark for anyone to be at home. There was no light coming from the small window, no smoke from the chimney.

His hope dissipated. Nonetheless, he tied Midnight to the cottage’s support beam and approached the worn and weathered door. So as to be heard above the storm, he knocked loudly and waited several moments before knocking yet again. The cold was beginning to nearly immobilize him and Garrett was quickly becoming anxious to either be welcomed, or move on. He knocked once more.

No answer. No welcome.

Garrett cursed loudly into the night. He now was faced with two undesirable options—breaking into the house or moving on through the storm. After a moment of consideration, he came up with an alternative. If I can find a place for Midnight in the building out back, perhaps I can warm myself beside him and ride out the worst of it.

Satisfied now, he turned to leave just as a faint sound seemed to gently float past his ears amidst the storm’s howling. Garrett stopped dead in his tracks as he waited for the sound to repeat itself.

Unexpectedly, his heart began to beat rapidly, as though his body was on alert. After several moments, however, the only repeated sound was the wind that howled and whistled past his ears. For a moment, he wondered if he’d been exposed to the cold too long. Shrugging, he tucked his chin to his chest and attempted to cover his ears with the collar of his coat. Having decided that he’d imagined the noise, he began to un-tether Midnight. In a matter of moments the sound came again, much like an arrow seeking its target, slicing through the storm until it reached his ears and tugged at his heart.

This time, Garret was certain he had not imagined it.

There is a child inside…a child calling for its Mama!

Throwing all caution to the wind, he stepped up onto the landing and tried the door. Much to his surprise, it easily gave way. In fact, the wind behind him threw the door open with such force that it seemed to shake the entire cottage. Garrett was forced to use the weight of his body to secure the door behind him.

His eyes rapidly attempted to adjust to the darkness of the small room. Instantly, they focused on a bit of light from a candle that was barely more than a puddle of wax. Garrett was amazed that the tiny flickering flame had withstood the wind that had blown past him as he entered. The candle sat atop a small table; but despite its valiant determination to stay lit, its glow was not sufficient to enable Garrett to see the contents of the room before him.

Aside from the howling wind, silence hung in the air, making Garrett feel inexplicably apprehensive. A moment later, he felt the chill run through his body that he’d been denying for so very long.

I must have imagined the whole thing. There is no one here. Yet…someone left this candle burning. I am going to have to find another candle or perhaps a lantern and then start a fire.

As if on cue, his hand came into contact with a lantern that was hanging against the wall. Reaching out, he used the small flame from the candle to light it.

Immediately, the modest room came into focus and Garrett could now see a hearth. As his eyes adjusted further, a well-worn kettle came into view as well. Bright yellow-checkered curtains hung from the single window on the opposite side of the hearth, and a matching tablecloth graced the small wooden table beneath. Beside the candle was a smattering of petals from a tipped-over white vase, which surely held the last of the summer’s roses.

While lifting the lantern to help illuminate the remaining contents of the room, Garrett took several steps toward a well-used wooden rocker that sat beside the hearth. Reaching out, he fingered the lovely knitted shawl draped over its back, while his eyes took in the rest of the room.

Against the far wall was a simple bed covered with a brightly-colored, hand-sewn quilt. A strongly built wooden trunk sat at the foot of the bed, and in the corner was a single chest of drawers. Considering the room’s neat as a pin appearance, a mound of linens and fabric on the worn wooden floor seemed extremely out of place.

Now feeling reassured that the shack was indeed empty, Garrett set to the task of lighting a fire. As he gathered a few split pieces of wood from the rack near the fireplace, he couldn’t seem to shake the unsettling memory of the cries he thought he heard earlier. While he stacked the wood, his mind searched for a possible explanation.

It must have been the wind or a squeaky board outside somewhere, because there sure isn’t anybody in here crying ‘Mama’, he said aloud.

The sound of his lone voice in the empty room seemed strange to Garrett. He chuckled softly and mumbled, "Either I’m just cold and tired, or I’m going crazy!"

After the first crackle of the newly ignited fire popped through the air, Garrett sat back on his heels and rubbed his arms. Even with a fire, the room would be chilly for quite some time. He couldn’t help but wonder as to where the owner of the cabin could be in such weather.

Sure hope that whoever lives here has found shelter from this storm.

Despite his worrisome ponderings, Garrett began to relax just a bit as the fire began to slowly warm him. He blew out a gusty sigh and was about to close his eyes, when a voice rose above the rhythmic crackling of the fire.

Awe you weally cwazy, Mister?

Instantly, Garrett straightened and spun around in the direction of the voice he’d just heard. His heart pounded rapidly in his chest as his eyes attempted to focus into the dimness of the room. The room was empty.

Who spoke to me? he demanded.

Silence hung in the air. More softly, he asked again, Who spoke to me?

Nobody’s here ‘cept the wind.

Inwardly, Garrett chuckled at the somewhat muffled, childish voice which claimed that the wind could speak. Enlightened now, his eyes fell upon the pile of linens and blankets that lay on the floor.

At last, things are beginning to make sense!

Taking a step nearer to the closed trunk at the foot of the bed, he instinctively softened the tone in his voice and said, I sure wish someone besides the wind was here to talk to… I feel especially lonely tonight.

Silence.

As Garrett reached down and carefully lifted the trunk’s worn, curved lid, his vision collided with the biggest set of midnight-blue eyes he’d ever seen. Squeezed tightly into one corner of the trunk, sat a little girl who was obviously very frightened. Terror shone brightly in her enormous orbs, and her lip began to quiver as fresh tears threatened to spill onto her flushed face.

Crouching down, Garrett noticed that the little girl was trembling. He swiftly handed her a small quilt from the pile on the floor and made an attempt to soothe her. Hello there, little one. My name is Garrett Westfield. I am on my way to see my uncle, Angus Brackman. Do you know him?

The little girl nodded.

Silence.

Garrett tried again. That storm’s really rough outside…and I needed a place to stay until it’s over. I knocked, but no one answered, so I just came in. I am truly sorry if I frightened you.

Silence.

Slightly frustrated, yet determined, Garrett thought for a moment as to how he might get the girl to talk. Suddenly remembering the first words he had spoken, he tried again.

"I’m not really crazy, you know. In fact, my sister Dianna has a little girl just about your size, and she tells me that I’m her favorite uncle."

Silence.

Her name is Bridgette. What is your name, little one?

Silence.

Sighing, Garrett ran his hand through his dark damp hair as thoughts raced rapidly through his mind. Where are her parents? Why is she here alone on a night like this? Why won’t she talk to me?

Garrett tried again, this time, changing his tactic. I guess you don’t know how to talk, because if you did, you would be telling me all about that pretty little doll you’ve got there.

"I do so know how to talk! she suddenly exclaimed. In a flash, she was standing with her little chin thrust forward defiantly. Fresh tears contradicted her confidence as she boldly stated, She’s not pwetty anymore…‘cause I axscidently bwoke her awm off."

Completely relieved that he’d gotten her to speak to him, Garrett smiled easily at her and said, "Well, I think she’s still very pretty… and I’ll bet her arm could be fixed."

A brief flicker of hope seemed to light up the girl’s eyes just before fresh tears began to trickle down her slightly rounded cheeks. My Mama mustn’t think so…she must be mad at me, ‘cause she wan away and didn’t come back. I am weally scared. Could you go find her for me?

Garrett bristled. A surge of protective sympathy rose up inside him for the sweet little girl who’d been left alone because of a broken doll. He forced himself to push back an angry judgment and concentrated, instead, on getting more information.

Where’s your Papa, honey?

"I don’t have a Papa…evewybody knows that, she said matter-of-factly, as she thrust her small chin upward. My Mama says that the good Lowd is my Papa, and he’s the only Papa I’ll ever need."

Garrett couldn’t help but smile at her obviously rehearsed answer and felt even more sympathy for the little girl. His smile seemed to work. She returned a trembling smile before using the edge of the quilt to mop up her tears. Once again, Garrett felt his heart squeeze within his chest.

What is your name, honey? he asked softly.

Cammy, she said quickly with pride and self-confidence. Still, despite her bravado, she looked vulnerable and weary. Garrett quickly surmised that it might be wise not to press her for more answers, when she suddenly blurted, How come you keep calling me honey? Bears eat honey and bees make it. Did you know that bees gots gweat big stungers? Once I got stunged in my hand and it huwt weally bad!

Garrett chuckled. He then realized, by her puzzled expression, that she did not find anything at all humorous in what she’d just said. He quickly made an attempt to quell his smile as he said, "They’re called stingers, Cammy…and I know how badly a sting hurts, because I have gotten stung before, too."

You did? she asked, her eyes widening.

Garrett nodded. Yep, I sure did. I got stung right here on my cheek.

Cammy’s eyes closely followed Garrett’s finger as he pointed to the spot. Before he knew it, she had scrambled out of the trunk and was closely examining his cheek.

She was such a beautiful child—as though she stepped right out of a painting. Her flushed cheeks framed a spattering of freckles that lay across the bridge of her button nose. Her thick hair was dark-brown, almost black. Several strands had fallen loose from the single braid that hung to her waist. When she looked up at him with eyes filled with something akin to sympathy, Garrett felt a tug at his heart.

In the next instant, she puckered her little rosebud lips; and before Garrett knew what was to come, Cammy rose up on her toes and kissed the spot where he told her he’d been stung.

"There…now it’s better for sure! she said with confident satisfaction. Mama says kisses awe better ‘n’ oinkment for fixing an owie. Didn’t your Mama ever kiss your owie for you? She don’t use oinkment on you, does she? How come you never telled me why you called me honey?"

Garrett grinned broadly at his new little friend and marveled at the fact that only moments ago, he’d been afraid he would not get her to talk. He reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and said, No, she didn’t kiss my bee sting for me, because I’m all grown up now. It doesn’t hurt a bit now anyway.

"I know it doesn’t huwt silly…I just kissed it! I told you kisses awe better ‘n’ oinkment. Awe you going to call me honey again? My Mama calls me angel."

Garret smiled tenderly. Calling someone ‘honey’ is a lot like when your Mama calls you ‘angel’ or ‘darling’. It just means that I think you’re sweet… like the honey the bears eat.

As if trying to understand what he’d said, Cammy stared at him for several seconds. Suddenly, she blurted, I’m glad I kissed your owie. Will you find my Mama for me now? I’m weally scared.

Chapter 3

Out in the small shelter behind the house, Garrett wrapped Midnight’s injured leg tightly with the strips of cloth Cammy had found for him. Though he was in a hurry, he made certain that he’d supported the leg properly. In truth, he feared that the horse might be damaged beyond repair because of what he was about to do. Still, there was just no other choice. Remembering the expression on Cammy’s face when she told him how scared she was made Garrett work quickly.

That poor little thing is so frightened. I’ve got to get her to Angus so I can go looking for her mother. My greatest concern is how to keep her warm while we ride through this blasted storm.

A loud bellow from the only resident of the stable interrupted Garrett’s ponderings. He turned to the old cow, whose enormous eyes seemed to stare right at him, and said, Easy there, Gertie. I’m going to take good care of Cammy for you…sounds like the two of you are pretty good friends.

Garrett couldn’t help but smile as he recalled the way Cammy’s eyes lit up when she told Garrett about Gertrude. He had been grateful for the chance to talk about something that took Cammy’s mind off her troubles, and had watched with delight as her tears disappeared and she began to chatter…

Gertie’s our cow…’cept her weal name is Gertwude. Do you know what a cow is? It is kinda like a howse ‘cept a lot chubbier and smaller….and did you know that cow’s make lots of milk?!

They can’t wun fast like howses do, though ‘cause they’re kinda chubby. They just stand awound an’ eat gwass. I think that Gertie loves me a lot, ‘cause Mama says she gives more milk when I’m milking her than when she does!

Garrett shook his head and chuckled at the memory. In fact, he had been unable to leave Cammy to take care of Midnight without making a solemn promise to give Gertie a kiss for her. Amused, Garrett chuckled again and spoke aloud to Gertie the cow, Sorry to disappoint you, fair Gertrude, but you shall have to be satisfied with a handful of hay and a pat on the back.

After Garrett had finished feeding the cow, he grabbed Midnight’s reigns and led him toward the stable door. He then abruptly turned back toward Gertie. Feeling quite ridiculous but obligated to do so, he blew the old cow a kiss goodbye.

*****

As soon as he had dressed Cammy in as much clothing as would go around her, Garrett wrapped her in two smaller, but heavy, quilts he’d found in the pile of linens beside the trunk. A giggle escaped through the small opening he’d left to give her air. Garrett smiled when he peered inside. Looking up at him, her face full of merriment, Cammy said, I feel like a wowm, in a cocoon!

"I’ll bet you do, Cammy! But remember…a beautiful butterfly always comes out of a cocoon…and as pretty as you are, you’re going to be even more beautiful than a butterfly someday."

Garrett was rewarded with a huge grin just before he asked, So… are you ready to go to my uncle’s house so I can go find your Mama?

Inside the cocoon, Cammy nodded happily.

As Garrett settled Cammy in front of him in the saddle, an unexplained feeling coursed through his body. Suddenly, he didn’t feel as cold as before. Better still, and much to his great relief, the storm appeared to be weakening—even though the wind was still fierce, the icy-sleet had lessened.

If Garrett had believed in God, he would have said a prayer of thanks, but he had long ago given up belief in a merciful Creator. Instead, he held Cammy tighter still and wished himself luck in delivering her to safety.

*****

It took over half an hour to make the journey that should have taken ten minutes. Though barely visible, the colonial style home of Angus Brackman, with its white pillars and a wrap-around porch, seemed to glow amidst the darkness.

Ice hung from the trees surrounding the vast lawns and outbuildings, their branches bowing heavily under the weight. Despite the ominous appearance, Garrett breathed a sigh of relief. He wasted no time in dismounting and carrying Cammy up to the house. Because his arms were full, he knocked loudly with his foot and waited several painstaking moments for the door to open.

Angus Brackman stood scowling in the doorway with his forearm shielding his eyes from the icy rain that blew onto his face. Thoroughly irritated, he growled, What kind of crazy, idiotic creature would be out in a storm like this? You mustn’t have any sense…dear God…Garrett, is that you?

After quickly stepping back from the door to allow Garrett to enter, Angus bellowed, Tessa…come quick! It’s Garrett, and he’s half frozen.

Too cold to move, Garrett just stood there. He did feel half frozen, all except the part of him that held Cammy close. His relief at getting her to safety left him a bit speechless.

Thoroughly puzzled by his nephew’s quiet demeanor, Angus gave him a quizzical look and moved a step closer. Garrett…what has happened? What in thunder have you got in your arms, boy? he blustered, as he reached to take the burden from Garrett. You’re holding onto that bundle like it was pure gold…

Just then, the gold started to squirm. Angus’ eyes widened; his arms quickly fell to his sides. For once, he was speechless. Garrett wanted to laugh as he marched past his uncle and into the parlor. Just as he laid Cammy on the wine-colored, floral settee, Tessa came rushing into the room. "Garrett! My goodness…it’s really you! Oh, I’m so glad to see you!" she squealed.

Though Garrett didn’t answer, he was more than ready to receive her embrace. Contessa Breland could give a hug like no other could give. He simply rose up and into the waiting arms before him.

Tessa was Angus Brackman’s housekeeper, yet so much more. She ran the household like a well-oiled clock and, if it would be proper for a woman to do so, could most likely run Angus’ logging business as well. Garret was of the opinion that Tessa could teach etiquette to the Queen of England, yet she could play a game of poker that would leave her opponent begging for mercy. Still, with her warm brown eyes, ash-blonde hair, and rose-colored complexion, her demeanor radiated kindness.

Though she was not even a decade older than Garrett, she represented the mother he’d lost—to Angus, she was the best friend and employee he could ever hope to have.

As Tessa squeezed him, she exclaimed, I can’t believe you are here! How did you come to be here on a night like this? You must have gotten caught in this horrible storm! It’s a miracle that you made it here! I’ll have the kitchen prepare a plate of hot food for you in no time at all! Ohhh, Garrett…I’ve missed you so!

Garrett smiled lovingly at the woman in his arms who, he suddenly realized, had embraced him despite his cold, wet clothing. He then kissed her cheek with a loud smack and said, I’ve missed you too, Tessa, but I can’t eat now…in fact, I need some help from both of you.

In an attempted to hide his emotion at seeing the two people he cared about most embracing, Angus barked, What in God’s green earth are you talking about…and what in all of Heaven do you have wrapped up in those blankets?

As if on cue, having finally wiggled herself loose, Cammy poked her head out the top of the blankets. Tessa gasped as the palm of her hand quickly shot up to cover her heart. It only took her a moment to recover, however, before she crossed the distance between them and crooned, Goodness gracious, sweet child…let me help you!

Angus, on the other hand, wasn’t quite as resilient. Garrett…what in thunder are you doing with this baby? he bellowed. What is going on, here?

Immediately, Cammy stood up and exclaimed, "I’m not a baby! I’m gonna be four years old ‘bout Thanksgiving time and my Mama says that we may even get to woast a tuwkey. Mister Gawwett…what’s a mustard?"

Though at this point she was not yet aware of Cammy’s predicament, Tessa protectively wrapped her arm around Cammy’s small shoulders. If the situation were not so potentially serious, Garrett would have laughed at the chaos.

Instead, he didn’t waste another minute, but quickly blurted, Uncle Angus, I can explain everything in time…but I do need your help, and quickly. Tessa, this is my new friend, Cammy. Would you please take her to the kitchen and get her something to eat?

Tessa didn’t have to be told twice to know that the two men needed privacy. She enthusiastically ushered Cammy toward the doorway. Much to her surprise, however, Cammy halted abruptly. Turning back, she said to Garrett, Mister Gawwett…you never told me what a mustard is…

Garrett turned toward her and said, What do you mean, Cammy? Why do you want to know what mustard is?

Cause one time I heared your uncle Angus call me a mustard child, she said matter-of-factly.

Cammy then looked up innocently at Garrett; she appeared to be very serious about her question. She then looked directly at Angus, as if to also encourage him to answer her. Her naive expression was greatly enhanced by her big blue eyes that seemed to swallow up her face.

It wasn’t until then that Angus recognized the little girl before him as Victoria Winslow’s child. Nonetheless, he was completely puzzled by what the little girl had said and looked at her in confusion. Cammy smiled back at him and said, Don’t you wemember when you came to talk to my Mama and I bwought you a pwetty yellow flower?

Angus’ face immediately turned beet red as he recalled the conversation the little girl must have overheard. Several months ago, he had gone to talk to Victoria with the hope of encouraging her to choose a husband. She had been creating quite a stir among the single men in Newburgh, and the suitors whom she had turned