Cowboy Creek Christmas: Mistletoe Reunion. Cheryl St.John

around more babies in her short time here than in her whole prior life. It was reassuring that after all the death and sorrow of the brothers’ war that civilization was now replenishing itself. It didn’t take a scholar to understand the psychology of bringing their country back to life with a new generation.

      She felt a grave responsibility to the children, to August and all of these little ones. She had knowledge to share, skills to teach, and she needed to impart as much as she could—to leave her mark on history and make a difference.

      She’d always been a hundred percent confident of her choices. She was still confident she’d been true to herself and her ideals. But a barely discernable question rose in her thoughts. Was she missing out on something? Would she eventually live to regret she had turned her back on relationships, on friendship, on marriage...on Sam?

       Chapter Six

      Rather than eat at the hotel again, Sam prepared a meal of sliced ham and boiled potatoes for himself and August. They sat at the tiny table in their long one-room quarters behind the newspaper office, and Sam said grace.

      “I miss Grandmother,” August said.

      “I know you do.”

      “Why couldn’t she have moved to Kansas with us?”

      “She has her own life to live, son. She has friends, and she likes to travel.”

      “I could have gone with her.”

      “No, you couldn’t have. We belong together, you and I. We’re a family.”

      August looked at him, his eyes wide and dark and still filled with the same pain and confusion Sam had prayed to know how to erase. “But there’s only you and me.”

      Sam ignored the ache in his chest and resisted placing a hand over the spot. “Two can be a family.”

      August ate a few bites and laid down his fork. “May I be excused?”

      Sam steepled his fingers over his plate and studied his son. “Two more bites of your ham.”

      August took the two bites and lifted his gaze.

      “You’re excused.” Sam cleared the table and washed the few dishes.

      August was lying on his narrow cot when he’d finished. “Let’s start a new book,” Sam suggested.

      “I can read by myself.”

      “I know you can, but if we read together, we can both enjoy the story.”

      August didn’t respond, so Sam went to the shelf of books and perused a few titles. “Life of Dr. Benjamin Franklin,” he read. “I like this one. You like history, and it’s interesting. It’s written by Mr. Franklin himself.”

      “I already know he invented the glass armonica and that he experimented with electricity and that’s how he got famous.”

      “But did you know he was a newspaperman?”

      August shook his head.

      “Benjamin was about fifteen when his brother started the first newspaper in Boston that did more than reprint articles from overseas. The Courant did opinion pieces, advertisements and printed ship schedules.”

      He pulled a chair close to where his boy lay. “Benjamin wanted to write for the paper, too, but he was only an apprentice, so at night he secretly wrote letters to the paper and signed them Silence Dogood.”

      “Who was Silence Dogood?”

      “A name he made up. In these letters he gave advice and criticized what was going on, like how women were being treated. Then Benjamin would sneak the letters under the print shop door during the night. Everyone liked the letters and wanted to know who Silence Dogood was.”

      August’s interest had perked up. “Did he tell them?”

      “He finally confessed. Benjamin’s brother James’s friends thought Ben was clever and funny, but his brother was jealous.”

      “Then what?”

      “Why don’t we read it together, and you can learn all about Benjamin’s interesting life.”

      “Yes, let’s read it. Will we finish it tonight?”

      Sam chuckled. “It will take a few evenings, but we’ll read it all, I promise.”

      August nodded his agreement. “All right.”

      “‘Imagining it may be equally agreeable to you to learn the circumstances of my life, many of which you are unacquainted with, and expecting the enjoyment of a few weeks’ uninterrupted leisure, I sit down to write them. Besides, there are some other inducements that excite me to this—’”

      “What’s inducements, Papa?”

      “Things that spurred him to write.”

      “Oh.”

      “‘—that excite me to this undertaking. From the poverty and obscurity in which I was born, and in which I passed my earliest years, I have raised myself to a state of affluence and some degree of celebrity in the world.’”

      “What is affluence?”

      Sam stopped reading and couldn’t help a smile. It might take longer than he thought to read this book.

      * * *

      It was a sunny day the following week, but cold with a bitter wind when Marlys entered the laundry and stomped snow from her feet on the mat inside the door. She took all her sheets and towels to the laundry behind her own office, but brought her personal items to Mr. Lin’s. She liked the way he rinsed clothing and pressed it so it smelled fresh.

      A pretty woman with a green felt hat covering most of her blond hair stood at the counter. She smiled at Marlys. “Are you Dr. Boyd?”

      “Yes,” Marlys answered.

      “I’m Leah Gardner. I’ve heard so much about you from Pippa, and I’ve been meaning to come introduce myself, but I’ve had a young mother and baby to look after, plus caring for my own newborn...”