“Yes.”
Noah skipped up to her, and his dog, not much bigger than the puppy he had been two years ago, began hopping around Abigail, trying to reach Lily who watched him calmly from her spot on her shoulders.
Walking up the path the woman stopped in front of her and Abigail noticed that Jeremiah’s eyes came from his grandmother. “You sent me this picture of Robert’s child. Did the baby survive?”
“Oh yes.” Forcing a stubborn reluctance aside, Abbie reached behind her and dragged Jeremiah to her side, pinning him in place with an arm around his thin shoulders.
The woman stared at Jeremiah and held her hand out behind her. “John.” The man with her stepped up quickly, grabbed her hand, and stood beside her. “This child is Jeremiah?”
“He is,” replied Abby. “Jeremiah Robert Collins. Jeremiah, this is your grandmother.”
Even as she looked down on the child, Abbie kept a watch on the others who began to climb out of the wagon and slowly walk closer. They were all studying Jeremiah, and the boy pressed even closer to Abigail.
“I had three sons,” the woman said quietly, her voice thick with unshed tears. “The war took them all. They all marched off to join the Union and not one marched back. The older boys left behind something. John, Jr. left his wife Miriam”—the woman with the children curtsied—“and his three children.” Two of the girls and one of the boys stood with Miriam. “And the other left a daughter and a son. Then came your letter and the picture and I could see that even Robert, my golden boy, had left a piece of himself behind. He died before he could see him, didn’t he?”
“I fear so,” Abigail replied as Matthew stepped up beside her to introduce himself. “But he knew a child was coming, if that is any comfort.”
“It is, or will be.” The woman knelt down and looked Jeremiah in the eye. “You do have the look of your papa, Jeremiah. Can you say hello?”
“’Lo. That is my brover, Noah,” he said and pointed at Noah who had edged up nearer to Abigail. “That is my da,” he said, pointing at Matthew and he grabbed hold of Abbie’s skirts. “She is my ma.”
“I see. You do have other family though. This is Miriam, your aunt. This is Beth and this is Alice,” she said, pulling the girls over to stand in front of her. She waved the others forward. This is Gavin.” She ruffled the hair of the one who had sat beside her. “This boy”—she tugged the one who had sat in the back of the wagon closer—“is Henry. They are all your cousins, as is Lillian here.”
“I have a lot of cousins.”
“Ye do, lad,” said Matthew.
“You have to make cousins for Noah.”
“I will tell my brothers to get busy on that.” He looked down at the ground to hide his grin when the boy nodded.
“Come in and have a drink,” invited Abigail. “We have cider and lemonade.”
“I will tend to your horses,” said Matthew, and started to walk toward the wagon.
Abigail led them all into the house and, with Miriam’s aid, gathered enough seats to have them all settled by the table. She gave each one a tall drink of their choice then poured a tankard of cider for Matthew. He obviously saw the slight tremor in her hands because he smiled softly and kissed her cheek then stood behind her when she took her seat. Then he brought over a plate of the cookies and muffins she had baked that morning and set them out with a few plates for people to use.
“I did write to say we would come but I suspect it will show up months from now. We have been trying to leave New York for quite a while. Then the land and house finally sold and we were on our way, and I prayed the whole way here that the child still lived.”
“He is a very healthy little fellow,” said Abigail. “Why did you sell everything to come here?”
“So that we could live near the child.”
“Oh.” At least it did not sound as if they expected the boy to be handed over to them immediately. Mrs. Collins reached across the table to pat Abigail’s clenched hands. “We just want to be close at hand. The girl named you his guardian and we respect that. But we are his family and we should be close.”
The knots in her stomach started to unravel and Abigail relaxed. They were not here to take Jeremiah or fight to take him. Glancing at all the others, she decided the woman had a large enough family as it was then scolded herself for the thought.
She had tried not to get too attached to the child but her heart had its own plans and now it would be as if someone wanted to take her own flesh and blood. It was the same with Noah. She had the sudden pang over the fact that she had not yet quickened with Matthew’s child but shoved it aside.
“Do you know where you are going to be staying?” she asked.
“We do.” She smiled at her husband. “Tell them, John.”
“Well, we found an empty saloon. And the woman in the general store connected to it told us how to make an offer to the man who used to own it. We now do. He just wanted the place gone so the bargaining did not take long. I have no urge to run a drinking establishment but we figure we can make something of it and it has rooms for all of us.”
“Which will be thoroughly scrubbed,” muttered Mrs. Collins.
“So what do you think you will do with it?”
