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By Donna Gene Stankey

On this wintry December night in 1893, Millie had lots of time to think. His wife, Mina, was with child; and tonight, looked like the baby would arrive. His first child was a girl named Blanche, who was four years old. He was truly hoping for a boy, even knowing that Mina and Blanche both wanted a girl. Millie had thought back to the time when h

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ramona Hammel Books
• Release date: Jan 18, 2023
• ISBN: 9781958920022

Donna Gene Stankey

Donna Gene and her daughter, Ramona, both grew up on their parent's family farms. Both had moved to large cities for a time, butwere glad to get back to farm life. Their love for this wholesome life style is what prompted them to write and publish these stories about the Setterington family. Donna has since passed away. Ramona lives on her husband's family farm outside of Hudson, Michigan.

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Copyright © 2023 by Donna Gene Stankey

Co-Authored by: Ramona Hammel

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher. For permission requests, solicit the publisher via the address below through mail or email with the subject line Attention: Publication Permission.

This publication contains the opinions and ideas of its author. It is intended to provide helpful and informative material on the subjects addressed in the publication. The author and publisher specifically disclaim all responsibility for any liability, loss, or risk, personal or otherwise, which is incurred as a consequence, directly or indirectly, of the use and application of any of the contents of this book.

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You may search this book in Amazon, Barnes & Nobles and other online retailers by searching using the ISBN below.

ISBN: 978-1-958920-01-5 (Paperback)

978-1-958920-02-2 (Ebook)

Contents

Author’s Note

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

About the Author

Author’s Note

This is a story of the Setterington family who migrated from England to Canada, and then to Michigan: they are my ancestors. Some lived in the town of Elsie, Michigan while others lived on a farm outside of Elsie.

From the time I was a child, I was enthralled with how things were done in the old days. I pestered anyone who would talk to me for stories of what they did as a child: my parents, grandparents, my aunt, as well as neighbors. As an adult, I began to record these stories which mainly concerned my own people. When I finally decided to write their story, I spent several years sorting the hodgepodge of material, putting it in chronological order, and verifying facts and dates.

I do not feel that the Setteringtons were completely unique. I believe they are indicative of thousands of farm families throughout the Midwest and it is my hope that the reading of this story will enable the readers to more fully understand his own heritage. Farm folks were a proud people, determined to be beholden to none, satisfied to live by the fruits of their own labor. I am proud to have this heritage.

This is the 1st of a series of books about the Setterington family saga, covering the years from 1893 to about 1922.

Chapter 1

One small kerosene lamp on the dresser softly illuminated the room, revealing the figure of a woman lying under a slightly askew counterpane. She obviously had recently given birth, and now she lay back in a state of complete exhaustion. A thick braid of dark hair lay over her right shoulder, a few tendrils of hair curled around her moist face, the face itself looked wan and drawn, the smudges under the eyes proclaimed it had not been an easy delivery, and the hours of labor had taken their toll. The intense blue eyes showed none of this tiredness of the body as they sought her husband seated near the bed. They were bright blue, but the expression in them, as they rested on the man, held none of the warmth and love that one would expect. They were cold—as cold and frosty as chunks of ice i n a glass.

The man held the sleeping babe tenderly in his arms and watched the small red face with love radiating from the tender brown eyes.

From the depths of the double bed came the petulant voice.

Well, Millie, I hope you’re satisfied now that you have a son. We don’t need any more children, do we? She waited for his answer, and since none was forthcoming, she said sharply, Millie!

What was that, Miney?

I said we don’t need more children. You’ll not be putting me through months of discomfort and this final agony again. Will you, Milford? she demanded. You have your son, and I have my daughter.

You’re right, Miney. Two’s enough, but a man needs a son. He touched a huge forefinger tentatively to the baby’s wealth of dark hair. Yep, a man needs a son. Someone to carry on the family name. I’m sorry for what you had to go through. I wish I could’ve borne the pain for you.

Humph. What’s a man know about the pain of childbearing? They have a few moments’ pleasure, but the woman’s the one who pays the price. All those weeks of getting larger and larger, not being able to move like they ought, the backaches, and the always being tired. Then, the pain. Why God ever made it so a woman has to suffer so is beyond me. But no more, Millie. You don’t need more children.

I’ve said all right. You’re tired. Now, get some rest whilst this little fellow is sleeping. I’ll send Lena in to see if she can do anything for you, and then you get some rest. You hear?

It was the eighteenth of December, and the year was 1893. Already winter lay heavy on the land. In spite of the roaring stove only a short distance away in the next room, the room was chilly. Frost had been creeping slowly up the windowpanes as the evening progressed. From the northwest, the wind was gusting furiously; and the puny, man-made structure trembled at its fury. In the corner of one window, a sparkling drift of sugar-fine snow was appearing on the windowsill from an unseen crack.

The man rose to place the sleeping child in a cradle that had been lovingly hand-carved by Miney’s grandfather Barnes, when he lived in the state of New York, for babes that had long since grown to manhood and womanhood. As he turned to leave, the voice came peevishly from the bed again.

What are we to call him? I hadn’t even considered a boy’s name. I was just that certain I’d have another girl. I prayed and prayed and felt that God would not force me to have a boy. Oh, Millie, I just didn’t want a boy, and I don’t want him now. I never even wanted another child, but had it been a girl, I could have loved her.

She started to sob great racking sobs that shook her sparse frame.

Now, now, Miney. Don’t take on so. He patted the hand lying on the coverlet. He’s a fine, healthy baby, and you should be thankful for that. God no doubt has His reasons. We’ll call him Ralph Horatio. We needed a son to pass Pa’s name to another generation. Horatio is a good name—one you don’t hear every day, and I rather take a notion to Ralph. Do try to rest. You’re overwrought. Tomorrow things will look brighter, you’ll see. ’ Sides, I’ll fetch Blanche right after dinner. I know you’ve missed her these last few days.

He stooped quickly and planted a kiss on her brow and left.

He was a huge man, six foot three, broad-shouldered, and his 235 pounds sat easily on his large frame. The years of hard work had produced muscle and left no room for fat. His features were coarse, his hair straight and dark, and a large mustache all but hid his upper lip; his eyes were dark brown and warm and crinkled in the corners when he laughed. There was a hidden look of strength in them as though they could be unrelenting and stubborn if the provocation came. He moved gracefully for such a large man as he quietly left his wife’s room.

He would sleep on the couch the same as he had been doing for the past several nights; that way, he could hear her if she called, and he could keep the fire going without disturbing her. She needed her rest after her ordeal, and maybe, when she felt better, she would be in a better frame of mind. Besides, he didn’t want either she or the babe to take a chill. He knew this sometimes happened after childbirth, and he intended to guard against any such event. He had his son, and God willing, he intended to keep him.

Mina quit her sobbing shortly after he left. What was she to do? She felt no love for that boy child who lay in the cradle, but then, she had felt no sudden surge of maternal love when her daughter had been born four and a half years ago. However, Blanche had been a beautiful baby, but this one—he was red, and with all that hair, he looked like a monkey. She remembered the shock when Lena had held him up for her to see, proudly announcing it was a healthy boy. Maybe it was just the bitter disappointment, the feeling of being cheated after all those months of hating the child growing within her. Well, he was here now, and although she had half hoped he would die at birth, he was healthy and strong. She would have to make the best of it and carry the burden God had seen fit to give her. Thinking thus, she slept.

The thermometer slowly crept toward the zero mark, and past midnight, when Millie looked out after poking up the fire, he observed the wind had died and the full moon hung in a star-studded sky. He noted with satisfaction the storm had abated, for he had promised Miney to fetch Blanche, and he didn’t relish the thought of the three and a half miles under blizzard conditions. He looked in on the babe and his wife. The lamp had been turned down low, but he could see that she was sleeping peacefully.

Mayhap she’ ll feel better about the boy come morning, he mused. At any rate, he hoped so.

He knew she had never wanted children, but he hadn’t known until after they were married. It wasn’t something a proper young woman discussed with a man, even if he was her intended. Mina had been brought up proper. Why, he’d never even been allowed to kiss her until after she’d promised to marry him. They’d been married eight years last month, and it had been a good life. She’d been a good mother to Blanche, but then, Miney was a lot more likely to take to a girl than a boy. Even in her Sunday school class, it was the girls she enjoyed. She was glad when the class got so large Richard had taken the boys and left her only the girls.

She’ll help raise him right, he said half aloud, but even a boy needs love afore he’s growed to manhood.

The babe stirred and started to fret.

Millie! The boy’s wakening.

I’m here, Miney. No use to rouse Lena. I’ll bring him to you.

Are you to change him? No doubt he’ll be sopping wet.

Reckon I can. My fingers ben’t always all thumbs, you know. Lena was tired, and I was restless anyways.

She nursed the baby dutifully. He suckled noisily, taking to the breast much better than some. As soon as his comforts were attended to, he slept again. Millie hoped he would always be this way. Perhaps if he wasn’t much trouble, Miney would learn to love him the sooner.

He wasn’t certain Miney fell asleep as fast as she seemed. He thought she was playing possum and would like to have said something more to her. He wanted to tell her he cared for her, but he was afraid of disturbing her. She looked pretty in the soft lamp glow. He liked to see her with her hair down, loose instead of in a braid. She had such beautifully soft hair, so thick and dark. Why, her braid was almost as large as his wrist, and her hair was so long she had to move it aside so’s not to sit on it. Her skin was delicately fair. She was so persnickety about herself, always wore her sunbonnet and gloves so’s she never got tanned like most farm women.

He remembered how he’d been taken with her when they were in school together. He and some of the older boys came to school in the wintertime when things were slack on the farms and Pa hadn’t needed him to help with the store and livery stable except before and after school; sometimes, some of the girls who went to school from fall till spring would help them with their ciphering or spelling. Almina Smith had been the best speller in the whole darned school. Why, he remembered the spelling bees they’d had, and Miney had always spelled the rest of them down even though some of them had had more schooling than she.

Then he remembered lunchtime when she and some of the others had sat around singing, and he’d been too bashful to go and sit beside her. There came a day when she’d smiled at him sweetly and asked if he wanted to sit with her to eat lunch. From that time on, he’d known she preferred him to the other boys, and he’d been mightily pleased. He’d known right then that when he was old enough, he’d ask her to marry him. Yep, he was mighty lucky to have her for his wife, and he’d liked to have told her so, but then, he reckoned she knew anyways.

He returned to the leather couch where he had made his bed. He hadn’t bothered to undress, for somehow it didn’t seem fitten to put on a nightshirt when a body didn’t intend to get into a bed. He knew the night would pass quickly, and then, it would be time for chores. Lena, a neighbor from up on the Ridge Road, would have to go home after breakfast, but he’d stop by and bring Lorin, Miney’s half sister, home when he fetched Blanche from Mother Smith’s.

Lorin had expected to stay for Miney’s lying-in. She probably would have been here, only the lad had jumped the gun a mite, and there’d been no time to fetch her. He’d barely had time to fetch the doctor. Lucky it was that Blanche had already been spending a few days with her grandmother. It had also been fortunate Lena was handy and could come. Of course, she couldn’t be expected to stay since she had to care for her own family.

Maybe having Lorin around would be good for Miney. Lorin was the older by almost twenty years and had been married twenty-two or twenty-three years already, he forgot which. She had had only one child, Georgie, who was almost seventeen. Guess she’d never wanted any more of her own, but she had always liked her nieces and nephews. He knew she would love the baby even though it was a boy. Mayhap some of her excitement over the boy would rub off on Miney. At least it couldn’t hinder any.

Millie was right in surmising that Miney had only pretended to drop off to sleep. She had sensed that he had something more on his mind, but had been in no mood to listen to him. Her stomach felt a little queasy, and her abdomen was sore as though her insides too had rebelled at having that foreign body growing there. She sensed she was bleeding more than was good, so she gently kneaded her belly and felt the uterus harden once more. Now, where had she learned that? Anyway, it seemed to help. She felt beat—simply dragged out. Didn’t seem like this birth had been any easier than the first, yet folks were always saying the second child gave less trouble. Lot they knew.

Blanche had been a breech birth and very difficult. Miney still remembered her mother hovering over the bed telling the doctor to turn that baby so it would come right, but the doctor had said it couldn’t be done. Ma had told him she’d seen her husband do it numerous times, only the old doctor had just shaken his head.

This one had lain crossways for a spell and then had come feetfirst. Just proved she was never meant to have children. She still felt bitter because it was a boy. She felt resentment toward Millie because it was all his fault. If men didn’t have to be like animals, but they were. From some of the hints the older women dropped, perhaps she was luckier than some. At least she had only two children, and some of her girlhood chums already had three or four. It was still Millie’s fault. How was she ever to enjoy taking care of the child? It was her duty, she knew, and she’d not neglect the tyke, but love him? Well…now, that was something else.

Ma had scoffed at her ideas when she had tried to talk to her. ’Course Ma had been married twice; her first husband, Elisher Fuller, had dropped dead even though he was only twenty-seven and left her with two small girls. That had been Lorin and Mary. Then, she’d married Pa and had Ettie and her. Of course, Pa had had four boys by his first wife who’d died, but they were a lot older than Miney, and she scarcely knew them. Jim had been around the most, in between trips to Oregon—he’d made the round trip by wagon train twice—and she was right fond of him, she guessed. He’d always been kind to his little half sister, letting her ride his horse even though they hadn’t had a proper sidesaddle. She’d learned to crook her leg around the saddle horn and had managed right enough. Leastways, Jim hadn’t made fun of her when she’d taken a tumble the first time she’d tried sidesaddle. She had ridden straddle at first, only Ma had said it was unbecoming of a lady to straddle a horse and show off her legs even if she was only a little girl. Jim was a right good brother, she’d have to admit, so just maybe boys weren’t all bad. Ma had been lucky to have girls if she had to have four children. Why couldn’t she have been just as lucky, wondered Miney as she finally drifted back to sleep.

Chapter 2

M a, Ma, I’m home. A dark-haired little girl of four rushed through the dining room to the bedroom and flung herself into her mother’s waiting arms. Oh, Ma, I misse d you so.

Did you, precious, did you? Ma missed you too. My, my, but your face is cold.

Blanche, said a matronly woman from the doorway, come get your cold wraps off before you give your mother a chill.

Oh, let her be, Lorin. She’s all right. Mina hugged the child to her again, and her face shone with love.

True, Blanche was a beautiful child. Her rich, dark-brown hair hung in long pigtails tied with large bows, her brown eyes were dark and flashing, her cheeks were rosy from the cold, her round face still held its childish look, but there was something about the mouth, as though she was only happy and gay as long as no one crossed her, and she possessed a stubborn streak that was difficult to surmount. She tossed off her hat and threw her muff on the bed.

Ma, are you sick? Pa told me you was in bed. Are you sick? Her face showed concern.

Ma’s only tired, love. Auntie Lorin will take care of you for a few days whilst I rest. Now, let Auntie Lorin help you out of your wraps. Then you can tell Ma what you did while at Grandma’s.

Just then the baby started a coaxing, crying sound. Blanche noticed the cradle for the first time. She went hesitantly over to the crib and peered in. Her eyes widened in surprise.

A baby! she exclaimed. Oh, Ma, a baby? Is it ours? To keep? Where did it come from? she wondered.

God sent him to us, love. That is your little brother.

A boy, Ma? she asked in disbelief. I don’t want a brother. Tell God to take him back. I don’t want a brother. I want a sister. Tell God to take him back and give me a sister. Give him to someone else.

Hush, child, said Lorin sharply.

I don’t care. I don’t want him. Ma, do we have to keep him? she asked beseechingly.

Yes, Blanche, we have to keep him.

But I don’t want a brother, she wailed.

Just then, Millie came to the door.

Blanche, that will do, he said sternly. "This is your little brother, Ralph. Now, you are a lot bigger than