Wings of a Dove (15 page)

    "Yes, Mama, you have my word."

    Allie stepped out of the kitchen into a bright, clear morning. Standing silently for a few moments, she closed her eyes and savored the sweet scent of earth and sun that filled her nostrils. She had been in her new home for three weeks, but she had not yet become used to the natural fragrance of this beautiful land.

    Suddenly conscious of her posture, her eyes closed, her head back, her small face raised to the warm morning sun, Allie opened her eyes and glanced quickly around her. She was distinctly relieved to see that no one had witnessed her foolish preoccupation with that which everyone else appeared to take for granted. Of course, Mother Case and Papa Case had settled in this place years before, and they were accustomed to its natural beauty. James and Sarah had lived here all their lives, and Delaney's natural caution did not allow him to become attached to anything.

    That thought turning her mind to Delaney, Allie smiled. Yes, he had heartily resisted extending her his friendship, but now that he had, he was closer to her than anyone she had ever known, except Mama. His friendship was securely hers. She had been    reassured of that often since they arrived on the farm. Not in spoken words but in the way he seemed to read her thoughts, sensing when she was upset over some failure, and in the way he seemed to know when a light touch on her shoulder or a covert squeeze of her hand would restore the courage that had temporarily deserted her, and in the watchful eye she knew he kept on the treatment she received from her new family. She felt his protective presence around her, and she thanked the Lady nightly for his friendship. It was the greatest gift she had ever received.

    But although Delaney was concerned about the warmth extended to her in this new family, he appeared to care little about the friendly overtures extended to him. He had spent his first three weeks performing well the tasks asked of him, while continuing to hold himself aloof. She knew that was true, because she had overheard Papa Case talking to Mother Case only the night before.

    "The boy does a good job with just about everything I ask him to do," Jacob Case had said, "but the truth is, I don't know him one bit better now than I did when he first came here. He's
holdin
'
 
back, Margaret, and I have to admit I don't trust him because of it. He's a strange boy, very strange."

    Mother Case had protested his comment, and Allie had wished that she could enter the room and tell Papa Case that Delaney was not strange at
alleven
though she supposed it was partly true.

    Delaney seldom smiled and seldom spoke, except when directly addressed or when Allie sought him out after the evening meal to tell him the events of the day, as had become her custom. He listened to her intently then, and he smiled when she told him about her silly mistakes, too, and quietly teased her until she also smiled.

    The only other softness he displayed was the few brief words he occasionally spoke to Mother Case. They were usually spoken so low as to reach Mother Case's ear alone, but Allie had seen the mistiness in Mother Case's eyes, her smile, and the way she squeezed his arm with true warmth in return. There was no strangeness there.

    Delaney did not talk much to Allie about his own adjustment to the farm and his new family, but she knew he spent much of    his free time in the hayloft with the books Mrs. Preston, the schoolmistress, had given him. She was uncertain if the other members of the family were aware of Delaney's surprising dedication to learning, so distant did he remain from them, and it troubled her.

    But Allie had to admit she found particular satisfaction in knowing that Delaney also kept Sarah at a distance, despite her advances toward him. She knew Sarah's pride was offended, and that each rebuff only made her more determined than ever to break him down.

    Sarah's offended pride had resulted in angry, jealous verbal attacks on Allie in the silence of their room at night. Allie had defended herself as well as she could against them, but there was no protection from Sarah's mockery. Nor did she have a defense when Sarah told her she was plain and Mother Case had only taken her in because she felt sorry for her, because Allie knew that was true. Pride had kept her from telling Delaney about Sarah's vicious remarks. She could not bring herself to call to his attention a comparison between Sarah and herself, because she knew in such a comparison she would be found lacking. She did not ever want to be found lacking in Delaney's eyes.

    As for the treatment she received from the others, Mother Case was ever loving and generous, and the sweet woman had stirred within Allie a true love in return. Papa Case was kind to her, but she feared he remembered Annie with too much pain to allow her a place in his heart. As for James…

    Allie's light brows worked into a frown. She was confused and uncertain about James. His unrelenting dislike of Delaney did not seem to include her. To the contrary, he was often considerate, evincing concern for her, but the antagonism between Delaney and him kept her from responding. She was not certain what to think of James. She wondered if she would ever truly understand the way he studied Delaney and her when they were together and his obvious disapproval of their friendship.

    Her sober thoughts had stolen some of the warmth from a morning that had given her so much enjoyment only a few minutes before, and Allie picked up the wooden bucket resting on the ground beside her. She walked toward the chicken coops    some distance behind the house, determined to put aside her concerns and concentrate on the task at hand.

    It was time to bring the fowl feed and collect the eggs. It was a disagreeable task that Sarah had gladly surrendered when Allie volunteered to take it over. She knew Sarah had thought her a fool. Her lips twisted in a small grimace. But then, Sarah rarely had a good opinion of anyone but herself.

    The familiar unpleasant odor of the coops assaulted her nostrils as Allie drew nearer. She gave a small sniff and attempted to dismiss the odor from her mind as she reached into the bucket and began scattering feed to the hungry birds flocking around her. Chickens were insatiable. Her stomach rebelled as she recalled the startling way she had discovered they would even eat each other if provided the opportunity. She had lost her fondness for them then, but that dislike had not stopped her from volunteering to take care of them. She had been anxious to show Mother Case that she was an asset on the farm, and she was glad she had taken that opportunity, because she had not been successful in her other endeavors thus far.

    When the bucket was empty, Allie looked around her. Her quick perusal of the yard failed to turn up any sign of the particular bird she sought, and Allie heaved a short, resigned breath. That nasty hen was still on her
nestand
probably waiting for her.

    Suddenly flushing, Allie was embarrassed by her own cowardice. Afraid of a little chicken. How Sarah would laugh at her if she knew.

    Unconsciously, Allie glanced down at the gouges on the back of her hand. She grimaced, remembering the way that particular hen's beady eyes had watched her approach the nest yesterday. Refusing to budge despite Allie's most energetic attempts to frighten her off, she had forced Allie to reach under her for the eggs. The bird had then attacked her, pecking and scratching so viciously that she had drawn blood. When Allie refused to give up, the enraged fowl had flown at her eyes, and to her silent shame, Allie had fled in defeat.

    Allie took another deep, firm breath. That was yesterday. It would not happen again today. With renewed determination, Allie pulled open the door to the coop and stepped inside.

    Working her way toward the rear of the coop, Allie took the
 
   warm eggs from the nests and carefully put them inside the bucket. She anticipated Mother Case's pleasure when she saw the size of some of the eggs. Mother Case had said she would make a cake if there was an abundance of eggs that morning, and Allie was certain that several of the eggs she had collected were double yolks. Mama had always said double yolks made the best cakes.

    Abruptly stopping in her tracks, Allie faced the last row of nests and the beady eyes of her nemesis. Her heart began racing, and annoyance at her own cowardice raged anew inside her. She would not let that nasty bird get the better of her!

    With a firm step, Allie started forward. With each step she took, with each nest she emptied, the vicious hen's agitation became more visible. Suddenly within a few feet of her and faced with the task of emptying that last nest, Allie set her bucket on the floor and took a firm hold on her courage.

    ''Shoo! Get off! Shoo!"

    Waving her arms, Allie frowned as she attempted to make the hen vacate her nest, but the old bird was determined to stay where she was. Obviously preferring to fight rather than move, the bird stretched out her scrawny neck, flapped her wings, and pecked until sharp, stinging wounds forced Allie to draw back.

    Allie gasped, her eyes darting to the fresh cuts on her forearm and the back of her hand. They were bleeding, and she rubbed them in an attempt to assuage the pain. Tears flooded her eyes.

    "Nasty, nasty bird! You want to keep all your eggs, and you can't! But you won't win this time. I'll get those eggs! I'll get them and take them back to Mother Case, and when I do"

    But Allie did not have time to finish her statement. Stirred to fury by Allie's threats, the bird abruptly began flapping its wings once more, this time leaving its nest and hurling itself directly toward Allie's head. Allie took a quick step backward and threw her arm over her eyes as the chicken attacked her. Abruptly snatching up the bucket, she beat a hasty retreat, slamming the door behind her even as the vicious bird flew against it in a last brazen attack.

    Her back against the door, Allie took a deep breath, and then another in an attempt to control her tears. She glanced at the bucket in her hand and was relieved to see that the eggs inside    were not broken, but that did not stop her humiliation or her pain.

    Raising a scratched and bleeding hand to her head, Allie touched her scalp tentatively, wincing as she felt another stinging wound there. Drawing her hand away, she saw her fingers were stained with blood, and tears welled more hotly than before. The fresh cuts burned miserably.

    James paused on his way back from the rear pasture to watch Allie as he had many times in the past weeks. She was so slight, almost lost in the gingham dress that had been sewn for Annie's sturdier figure. Her pale hair and skin, glimmering in the bright fall sunlight, and her slightly oversized clothing with thin but strong limbs showing created an appearance of fragility that he knew was deceiving. But it was somehow endearing, nonetheless, as she trudged with unrelenting enthusiasm up the rise toward the chicken coops.

    A smile touched James's lips, and a flicker of warmth stirred inside him. Three weeks had passed since Allie's arrival at the farm, and those weeks had confirmed his thoughts when he had seen her asleep in the loft that first morning. Allie had looked innocent, almost angelic, and the passage of time had proved that she was, indeed, all she had appeared to be.

    Mama was pleased with Allie. James had not thought anyone could fill the void Annie had left in his mother's heart, but he knew now this pale little stick of a girl, who bore not the slightest resemblance to their bright, robust Annie, was well on her way to doing just that. As for Pa, well, it was going to take longer than three weeks to convince him that Allie was meant for them.

    It was clear to James that the child loved the farm and appeared to find delight in the simplest things. If there was any reason for Annie's passing, it had to be that this little girl was not meant to have her loving sweetness wasted in a city orphanage where there was no one to love her. And if James was certain of anything, it was that little Allie was meant to be loved and to give love in return. He had seen her response to Mama. He had observed her desire to please, and he had noted the way she hid Sarah's meanness from Mama, so Mama would not be upset. He had attempted to speak to Sarah about her unreasonable resentment toward the girl, but the exchange had been a disaster,    which he suspected had only turned Sarah more firmly against Allie.

    Allie reached the coops and began to scatter feed to the chickens who had flocked toward her in a great, squawking swarm as James's thoughts had continued to wander. He supposed Allie's need to be loved was the cause of her attachment to Delaney Marsh, but how could she find consolation in a boy who had no love to give? That friendship was a mystery to James. And it was a mistake. Delaney Marsh was hardened beyond redemption by the streets and by the bars that had imprisoned him before he joined the Society's orphan train. He was biding his time, awaiting an opportunity to do something. What that something was, James wasn't sure. He was certain, however, that when the opportunity appeared, Marsh would forget his feigned concern for Allie, his contract with Pa, and everything else that got in his way.