Cradle to Grave by Eleanor Kuhns Read Free Book Online Page A

worn leather cover, she pulled a small drawstring leather bag that clinked. She poured some of the coins into her hand. They were mostly coppers but there were a few English shillings in the mix. “Why isn’t she buying food?” Lydia looked up at Rees, anger and outrage contorting her features. “I peeked into the bedroom. All whiskey bottles, Will.”
    Silently Rees took the bag and the coins from her and returned them to their hiding place. “Maybe she’s forgotten this is there.”
    â€œThese poor children. I agree with Mouse. She did the right thing and I will tell her so when next we meet.”
    â€œIt certainly looks that way,” Rees said more cautiously as he took down the Bible. He didn’t want to judge until he understood the entire situation.
    As Lydia returned to the diapers, burning off her emotion with the hard physical labor, Rees took the Bible to the table and sat down with it. Marriages, births, and deaths for the Baines family filled the unprinted front pages, inscribed in a variety of hands from a careful copperplate to crude block capitals. Rees searched for Olive Tucker, finally locating her married to Phineas Tucker but listed under her maiden name, Baines. A notation next to Phineas identified his brother Silas; they were the only survivors of thirteen Tucker children.
    From the Baines family, a brother and a sister survived as well as Olive. Birth dates and marriage dates were inscribed. Rees noticed that Olive had had two sisters; a death date was noted for one. Someone, probably Olive, had written “gone west” next to the entries for her remaining siblings.
    Olive and Phineas’s three children were also included. Marriages were noted for all. Olive’s son and his wife had followed his aunt and uncle west. There were no death dates. Rees wondered what had happened to Olive’s daughters. Had they moved? Olive must not have known either; nothing was listed.
    But where was Maggie Whitney’s name? Wasn’t she Olive’s niece? Rees searched the page, finally finding a Margaret Tamar at the very bottom. There was no last name and no mother or father identified. Why, she was little better than a foundling. Rees felt a flash of sympathy for the girl. And what had Maggie used as a last name before she married? Tucker? Baines?
    He turned forward one page. Maggie must have begun this page herself; her name was inscribed in tentative block capitals at the top. She’d noted her marriage and below that date was a list of her children: Jerusha, Simon, Nancy, and Judah. The months and years of the births were noted, but only Jerusha’s entry bore a firm date: June 22, 1788. She wouldn’t be nine for four more months. It did not require a mathematical genius to see that she was born a scant five months after her mother’s wedding. Well, Maggie and her husband wouldn’t be the first couple to jump the broom without benefit of clergy. The dates for the other three children were entered with pale hesitant strokes; Rees took that to mean Mrs. Whitney hadn’t known the exact days and was certain only of month and year.
    Rees closed the Bible and deposited it upon the shelf. “It’s getting late,” he said to Lydia. “I want to start back to Dover Springs before dark.” And his stomach was beginning to growl.
    â€œI still have some diapers to hang,” she said, wiping the back of her hand across her forehead. “I think she must have used every single piece of cloth in the house.”
    Rees eyed his wife’s pale, tired face. “I’ll help you,” he said, and crossed the floor to her. “I don’t want you exhausting yourself.”
    â€œThese children…” Lydia’s voice suddenly broke. Rees put an arm around her shoulders. “It’s not their fault,” she said, her voice trembling. “That woman doesn’t deserve them.”
    Rees gave her a