Annabel's Story: Homesteader

By Mary Jean Kelso

What secret does this orphan child carry that will be news even to her? She boarded the Orphan Train against her will as Mabel. She became Annabel. What do the cards hold for this outcast? Will she find happiness on the homestead? Or return to the streets of a different town?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Wings ePress, Inc.
• Release date: Aug 4, 2023
• ISBN: 9781613090800

Book preview

One

What’s wrong with us ? What have we gotten ourselves into? Here we are taking on an orphan child. And, not just any orphan child but a leftover girl who appears sullen and non-communicative. Molly Westerman recalled the recent scene at the train depot in Moriarty as the buckboard rocked its way down the rutted road toward the family homestead in the Estancia Valley of New Mexico.

Molly, a homesteader and a school teacher when classes were in session, held Jacob, her youngest child, on her lap. She exchanged a concerned glance with his father, Trace, as the horses pulled the buckboard down the dirt tracks. Their newest charge, Annabel, sat on the floor in the back like an unresponsive rock.

She can’t be much more than twelve or thirteen. Considering her size, Molly hoped something in the few hand-me-down clothes she had waiting at home for her would fit. If not, she would have to do some sewing. And fast.

Molly shifted Jacob to a more comfortable position. She thought about the girl, who had arrived with the name Mabel and who, then, asked to be called Annabel. Not that she blamed her for wanting a name change with her new life. After all, Annabel had a more melodious sound to it than Mabel. Molly had no idea the circumstances behind the name change or what led Annabel to dislike her given name.

Being the oldest and the largest of the children to alight from the Orphan Train, Annabel had stood on the platform as child after child moved away as they were chosen by new families. She was not one of them. She remained standing, staring straight ahead as though she thought she would have to become a statue in the middle of the plaza to have a place in this new location so foreign to her.

What would this child have done if we hadn’t asked her to come with us? Molly thought, sensing she must surely have been wondering what would become of her. What would she have done next? Molly pictured the child, looking forlorn with her feet planted solidly on the board walkway between the rails and the depot. She wore a tattered woolen coat and carried nothing in the way of personal baggage. One-way passage to New Mexico, from New York City, brought her there. Would the train have taken her on to another destination? Or returned her? For Annabel, there was nowhere to go on to and nothing to go back to.

The train puffed smoke and coal cinders from its funnel-shaped stack as the engine increased its rumble to lug the cars back to Santa Fe.

Their choice had dwindled to only one possibility. Still, they were determined to help one of New York City’s castoffs. Molly and Trace had assured the girl she was exactly what they were looking for when they asked her to come and live with them.

When the five Westermans, Molly, Trace, Seth, Emmy and Baby Jacob, had taken their positions in the wagon they had offered the girl a seat up front. Sullenly, she had climbed into the back alongside the two older children.

Seth cuddled Emmy closer to him as the little girl’s blue eyes studied Annabel suspiciously.

Emmy’s tiny hand smoothed the skirt of her dress as she looked at Annabel’s ragged skirt and frayed coat. Although the day had been hot and the evening now basking in its afterglow, Annabel resisted removing the wool coat that reached to her knees and hid her body and more worn material beneath it.

While winter still had its grip on New York when Annabel left, here in New Mexico the days were, sometimes, already hot leaving the evenings stuffy and without a breeze.

Seth wondered how she could stand to be bundled up on such a warm evening. He wanted the least amount of clothing Ma would let him get by with. He wore only a shirt and pair of pants. Both garments had long since worn out in places. The shirt sleeves were cut off to above his elbows. The pants were cropped at mid-calf. As he studied this stranger wondering about her tolerance to the heat, he sat in silence instead of asking her why she didn’t remove her coat.

Emmy laid her red curly-topped head against Seth’s arm and tried to keep it steady as the wagon jiggled its way homeward.

When they reached the drive to the homestead, Pug, the pup that was in training with the family’s aging pet and watchdog, Crazy Leg, raced toward them. The fading light made it hard to see the small animal as he yipped and dodged about. The sound of his eager immature bark brought joy to Seth’s heart and guided Trace to avoid running over the excited dog.

Pug! Get out of the way. I don’t want to hit you, you silly mutt, Trace said half concerned and half amused. Seth, call your pup to the side so the horses don’t step on him.

Yes sir, Seth whistled to the dog. We’re coming, Pug. Go back to the house. Go find Crazy Leg!

Even as Seth spouted orders to the pup, he felt uneasy about the older dog. Crazy Leg grew more and more feeble as time passed. The dog was older than Seth was since the white and gray splotched mixed-breed mutt was already an adult when he was born. Ma had taken on the chore of helping his real Pa raise him and two other kids and accepted the dog when she married his father. Being a mite, himself, when his father had died, he had feared he’d not only lost his Pa, but that the entire family would be scattered about with other relatives or strangers. He might well have been like Annabel, looking for family or strangers to take him in.

But, now that he was older, he felt he should have known his real Pa wouldn’t have married a woman with less character than Ma. Once Pa was buried and all their belongings sold, Molly Kling had bundled the entire family, Seth, his brother Andy, sister Rosie, their Pa’s rifle and Crazy Leg into the one remaining buckboard and left Oklahoma.

Even when they had arrived at their homestead in New Mexico, Crazy Leg’s movements were slower than a younger dog. As time progressed, arthritis had set into his damaged leg.

Some people would have destroyed an animal that could no longer contribute to a family’s wellbeing. Crazy Leg had devoted his life to protecting this family from the first they had taken him in. Even if all he could do was bark, he still maintained his post. Trace, Seth’s new Pa, didn’t have the heart to take him on his last walk and leave him behind. Only if his suffering became too great did Seth expect that Trace would have to muster the strength to put him out of his misery. Then, he knew, it would break all of their hearts.

Bark! Bark! Crazy Leg’s tone joined Pug’s yipping call from somewhere near the cluster of buildings that was their home site.

Seth gave a sigh of relief.

Crazy Leg was still alive and waiting for their return.

The thought that, one day, Crazy Leg might not be there to welcome them weighed heavy on Seth’s mind. He tried not to think about it but was forced to face reality every time the dog lagged behind, slept more than normal or didn’t race to greet them.

Trace stopped the horses in front of the house and, with a leg over the side of the buckboard and his foot heavy on the lever, pushed on the brake handle.

Good dog, Crazy Leg, he encouraged the senior pet that turned slowly on the front porch and wagged his tail in greeting.

Yip! Pug responded.

You, too, Pug, Trace added.

He climbed down from the driver’s position and walked around to help Molly and Jacob from the front seat. Dusk had fallen and a sleepy Emmy struggled to stay awake and study this stranger, Annabel, while her head nodded against Seth’s chest.

Trace reached over the side of the wagon and waited for Seth to lift Emmy and stand her close enough for him to grasp her and take her in his arms. He followed Molly, carrying Jacob, as they went to the house.

Seth stood at the side of the wagon a minute once the younger child was in his stepfather’s arms. He dropped to the ground near where Pug now bounced up and down in eager anticipation. Seth reached down and scratched the short, tight hair on the dog’s head.

Good boy!

He moved to do the same to Crazy Leg.

Good to see you, old fella, he greeted.

Do you need help down? Trace turned and asked Annabel as he reached the steps and realized she wasn’t following. I’ll come back as soon as I set Emmy down, if you do.

No, Annabel answered, stalling as she took in the outlines of the house and its outbuildings. She swung her leg over the side of the wagon and turned to adjust her foot on a wheel spoke, reversing the movements she had made getting in.

So, this was the Westerman homestead. She couldn’t see much in the dim light. She’d have to wait until daylight to form an opinion about her new living conditions.

Annabel followed Seth slowly toward the house. She looked around seeing only outlines of buildings. She heard the calls of livestock and smelled the scent of turned earth and still-warm sod as the twilight turned to dark.

A lamp inside the house shone brighter through the open doorway as its chimney was set in its prongs. It glowed through the kitchen window as if beckoning her to enter.

How bad could it be? If there was food and shelter, it had to be better than where she came from.

She saw the light of a lantern coming from the largest building that she presumed was a barn.

Not knowing who was coming, she quickly followed the rest of the family through the open door and into the house.

She looked back as she heard footsteps on the front porch as the light came closer. It glowed through the still open front door combining its light with that of the lamp to brighten the room further.

Andy, I wondered where you were. The dogs barked so loud that I thought you’d surely know we were home, Molly said. Annabel, this is our oldest son, Andy.

Andy nodded in Annabel’s direction. He set the lantern on the table instead of blowing it out.

Bessie had her calf while you were gone. She dropped it just a few hours ago, Andy told the family. That’s why I couldn’t get to the wagon to help you carry the babies in, Andy explained his lack of assistance to Trace and Molly.

That’s wonderful! Molly told the others in an excited voice. What is it, Andy? A boy or a girl?"

I thought everybody might want to go to the barn and see it, Andy clutched the bail to the lantern again. It’s a heifer and she’s doing fine.

Molly gathered Jacob back into her arms and Trace picked Emmy up.

Let’s go see the new baby, Emmy, he said.

The excitement stirred Emmy from her groggy haze.

Yahoo! Bessie had her calf, Seth jumped up and ran ahead of the rest of the family. The pup burst into a run alongside him. Crazy Leg followed slowly behind.

Annabel stood in the kitchen watching after the family as they hurried to the barn.

Come on, Annabel, Molly encouraged. Don’t you want to see the new calf?

Annabel moved hesitantly to follow. Lagging a few steps behind, she kept pace with Crazy Leg whose tail seemed to wag faster than his legs moved.

What was this excitement about a calf? Annabel wondered. She knew milk came from cows, but living in New York City, she hadn’t seen one since her family left London. Then, only when she had gone to the countryside with her parents in search of fresh vegetables was she told the large animals in a pasture near a dairy farm supplied their milk.

Inside the barn they could hear Bessie producing a low, dog-like bark to let her new calf know where she was in the dark.

Guess I should have left the lantern on the nail so they could see better, Andy said.

That sound is why some of the cowboys call cattle ‘doggies’, Trace said with a chuckle in his voice. You don’t hear that often, unless a cow has hidden her baby in the brush somewhere. They don’t like people messing with the calves so sometimes they’ll drop them in the brush on the range so it’s hard to find them. Then, they’ll make a noise like that so the calf knows its mama is close by. Bessie, here, didn’t have much choice where she had this one since we kept her penned up the last few days so she couldn’t try to fool us and hide it."

Trace turned to Andy. You did right to stay behind today and keep an eye on her.

A little heifer, Molly said. That’s good! I promised Tom and Shelia Jennings they could buy her when she’s grown if it was a girl. Then they’ll have a milk cow, too. It will be easier for them not to have to make a trip over here every couple of days or so for milk for their children.

Do you want to pet the new baby, Annabel? Molly offered as the girl stood on her tip-toes looking over the stall.

Bessie chewed her cud as she lay next to the calf. Now and then she reached back and licked the fresh face of her newborn.

Don’t be afraid. Bessie is gentle. We’ve had her for so long, she knows we won’t hurt the calf and I’m sure she’ll trust us to let you pet her. Molly looked at Trace and the children. We have to have a name for her. What do you think?

Molly reached for Annabel’s hand to tug her forward.

Come on. Just walk slowly so Bessie doesn’t get startled. Then reach down and pet the baby carefully.

Annabel let herself be pulled gently through the open gate into the stall.

It’s all right, Bessie, Molly talked soothingly to the cow.

Me, too, called Emmy.

Wait your turn. Both you and Seth will get your chance, Trace told the awestruck child as she came forward.

Annabel reached out and felt the short silky curls on the calf’s forehead.

It’s so soft, she said in amazement.

She brushed the tawny curls aside and saw an irregular star pattern beneath. Two of the points peeked out from the hair onto the calf’s otherwise white body. The remainder was hidden beneath the overhanging hair.

Did you see this? Annabel pointed out the marking.

No! It does form a sort of star pattern, Molly said.

Molly looked at Trace and smiled. These were the first words Annabel had volunteered without her having to pry them out with questions. It was a start. Molly hoped she would open up with conversation when the opportunity occurred.

I have an idea! Molly announced, Why don’t we let Annabel name the calf?

That sounds like a good plan, Trace agreed. After all, the other children have already had their chance to name other animals.

Seth looked disappointed.

Trace tried to head off the possibility of a pout.

Who named Pug? Trace asked him.

Me, Seth answered sullenly.

And Emmy named the hen’s chicks when they hatched. Eenie, Meenie, Minie and Mo, Trace said.

There would have been more if we hadn’t kept taking her eggs, Molly laughed, then asked, How about it, Annabel, do you want to think of a name for her?

It has to be Star, Annabel answered quickly.

Of course! How could it not be with that mark on her forehead? Molly agreed.

Tell you what, Trace said, when we take her away from Bessie, you can be the one to bottle feed her. What do you think?

Annabel looked up. For the first time, Trace saw a glimmer of excitement reflecting in her eyes as the lantern glow illuminated her face.

Really? Could I?

Of course, Trace promised.

I wanna help, Emmy said.

Not me, Seth chimed in. There’s enough work without feeding calves, too.

I’m sure Annabel will let you help, Emmy, Molly said. Besides, you have the chickens to feed, too.

’Bel can help me, Emmy shortened Annabel’s name before it left her small mouth. Can’t you?

Yes. I’d like that. What could there be to feeding chickens? Annabel thought. From what she’d seen you simply tossed stuff out to them like she’d seen people doing in Central Park with bread crumbs they threw to the pigeons. Besides, Emmy reminded her of Ruthie although younger. It helped soothe the pain in her heart for the loss of her friend when Emmy smiled.

Andy led the way back to the house with the lantern held high so no one would trip over a stray dog bone or stick in the yard.

As they walked, Pug and Crazy Leg sniffed at Annabel’s feet as if wondering who this new person was that seemed to be included in the family now.

When their damp noses touched her bare heels Annabel squealed. She’d felt something like that before. Only, it had been a rat that had jumped on her when she was searching for food in a garbage pile in an alley one time. Its rubber eraser-like nose had skidded quickly up her arm. She had shaken her arm frantically, frightened she might get bit. She sensed then that if there was any food there, the rat had already claimed it and she ran away as fast as her unsteady legs would take her.

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