into the cabin and settled around the table. Judith soon set out the dishes family-style. The dinner guests ate with gusto and offered many compliments. Judith ate and replied, but she still wondered. Who had taken the pie?
* * *
Two mornings later, Judith awakened with a plan. Yesterday, which was laundry day and the day after the pie had gone missing, someone had taken one of Asa’s shirts drying on her clothesline. Someone was not only hungry but also needed clothing. She thought of the verses in Matthew 25.
“Come, ye blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world: For I was hungered, and ye gave me meat: I was thirsty, and ye gave me drink: I was a stranger, and ye took me in: Naked, and ye clothed me.”
But how to do that? At home in Illinois, usually tramps had stopped at the door to ask. She didn’t think this person was going to do that. Then the plan had come to her. She needed to bait the hook and see who nabbed it. After breakfast, Asa had reminded her that he was helping out a neighbor with clearing more land and would be gone till lunch.
Perfect. She didn’t want Asa to know what she was doing. Her plan sounded...childish, but it might work. She bid Asa goodbye and then baked two cinnamon cakes, set one on the windowsill where the pie had been and then slipped inside the springhouse, which gave her an excellent view of the window. The scent of cinnamon from the cake floated on the wind.
At first, anticipation and a bit of apprehension kept Judith alert, but an hour passed with only squirrels on tree branches eyeing the prize on the sill. She began daydreaming, thinking of fabric she’d seen at the Ashfords’ store.
Then she heard it—soft padding of feet and the brushing back of branches. She peered out the cracked-open springhouse door and saw them. She nearly gasped aloud.
She glimpsed two children, a boy of around nine and a younger girl, who was wearing Asa’s shirt as a dress. The boy left the girl in the cover of the evergreens and approached the house with stealth.
Judith sat very still, watching the boy reach up and take the cake and stuff it into a small cloth bag. Then he hurried back to the girl.
Judith nearly leaped from her seat, but she counted to ten, then slipped outside, going after the children. She needed to find out where they were coming from. Did they have family? Fortunately, as a child, she and Emma had played Cowboys and Indians with their older brother, so she knew how to creep behind someone. The trees and wild shrubs concealed her. She followed the two more by sound than by sight.
Finally the two stopped muting their voices and halted.
Judith peered through the evergreen boughs and observed them devouring her cake. Behind them, the opening to what must be a cave explained where they lived.
Two children living alone in a cave? Why? Where were their parents? Family?
She sat very still, watching them as they sat on the bare ground, eating and then drinking from a natural spring that ran from the rock near the cave opening. They needed her assistance but they were hiding, not coming to her door to ask. Why not?
Well, right now she must attempt to help them, regardless. She rose and stepped out of the cover of the forest. “Good day, children.”
The two of them leaped up. The boy shoved the girl behind his back and picked up a large rock. “Don’t you come any closer!”
She opened her hands and showed that she held no weapon. “I’m Mrs. Brant. What are your names?”
“I’m Lily,” the girl said.
“Nice to meet you, Lily.” Judith smiled but stayed where she was, letting them get used to her.
“This is Colton—” Lily began.
“Hush,” Colton said. “Lady, you go on home. Lily and I are doin’ fine.”
She surveyed their matted hair, grimy hands and faces, clothes caked with mud, and thin arms and legs. Though unhappy at their plight, she still smiled and kept her voice gentle. “I’ve come to invite you to eat lunch with my husband and me.”
“Lunch!” Lily jumped with obvious excitement. She hurried toward Judith.
Colton tried to stop her, but the girl skirted him, went to Judith and took the hand she offered. “Do you cook good?”
Judith was caught between amusement and sadness. Lily must have been only around six, so she still had a child’s trust, but Colton had lost his. Who had driven these children into the forest to fend for themselves like Hansel and Gretel?
“Colton, I know you don’t know me well. But I am offering you a free meal. You can leave afterward. And I promise not to tell anybody but my husband about this place.” She didn’t want Colton to leave for fear of her.
Colton studied her for a long time.
She waited.
Finally the boy put down the rock and walked toward her. “Okay. We’ll come, but we ain’t stayin’.”
“I only invited you for lunch,” she replied. “I mean you no harm.”
He snorted.
Her heart ached for a boy trying to care for himself and a little sister. She longed to rattle off questions, but pressed her lips together. The two were like wild deer. She didn’t want to spook them. Then Asa came to mind.
What would he say when he came home for lunch and, without warning, found two tattered urchins at his table? Now she realized that she should have discussed this with her husband. Would he object? With a deep sigh, she began praying for wisdom, for guidance, not only for her but also for Asa.
Would he be displeased with her for acting on her own, for not minding her own business? The fact that her husband was still somewhat a stranger to her—and that he held her at arm’s length—kept her feeling insecure. Surely he wouldn’t send the children away, would he?
Out of the forest, swishing through the ankle-deep just-greening wild grass, Judith led the children the last few feet into her clearing, praying that Asa, taken by surprise, would not say or do anything that would frighten them away. With regret, she again scolded herself that he wouldn’t if she’d prepared him for what she had planned. She prayed for Asa’s underlying goodness to shine out and be sensed by these children.
Lily skipped along beside her, chattering away about Clara, her soiled, limp rag doll lying over her arm. “That’s my favorite name, Clara,” the little girl said.
“That is a very pretty name, but so is Lily. I love lilies, especially tiger lilies.” Judith sensed Colton lagging behind. Glancing over her shoulder, she observed him studying the area as if looking for any possible danger. Or perhaps an escape route.
“What’s a tiger lily?” the little girl asked.
“It’s a yellow or orange lily that blooms in the summer. We may have some growing around here.” Judith sent the girl a happy smile that masked her growing misgivings. Mimicking in sound her tightening
