The Gift of a Child by Laura Abbot Read Free Book Online Page A

rubbish. I’ve called this meeting to tell you what we know and what you can do to help. I believe the recent incident where somebody stole tack out of Hank McGuire’s barn is an isolated case. However, it suggests a need for vigilance on all our parts. From time to time, we have men, some desperate, some organized, crossing this region and bent on no good.”
    “Gangs, you mean,” the owner of the general store called out.
    The sheriff clenched his jaw. “Now, Horace, that’s a bit of an exaggeration. Certainly some folks down on their luck make their way through the territory. Three fellas were apprehended last weekend in Council Grove, suspected of robbing stores. Unpleasant as this news is, most vagabonds are homeless and looking for work. Yes, some gangs operate throughout the West, but none have been spotted in Chase County.”
    “It’s a bit hard to tell the difference—drifter or robber,” muttered Chauncey Britten, the undertaker.
    “No worry which one when they finally need your services,” one wag shouted to the enjoyment of the crowd.
    Sheriff Jensen again signaled for attention. “Here’s what I propose—that those living in town be alert to strangers and inform my office when anyone you don’t know rides into town. As for those of you living beyond town, instruct your hands to keep an eye out and be ready to notify your neighbors if you see something unusual. What we don’t want is folks going off half-cocked and creating trouble.”
    A beefy, red-faced farmer jumped up. “So we’re not supposed to protect our property?”
    “That’s not what I said,” the sheriff responded. “Caution is warranted, but take action only if you feel your property or family are imminently threatened. If at all possible, before you do anything, notify us.”
    “Ride eight miles to you while some renegade roams my ranch?”
    “Git off your haunches, Jensen, and git rid of these varmints!”
    The cries from the audience were taking a toll on the sheriff, who was a better lawman than speaker. As the hubbub continued, Seth felt Caleb stiffen beside him and knew his brother was about to intervene. Sure enough, Caleb raised his hand and cut a swath toward the front of the room, much as he must have led a cavalry charge. He strode right up on the platform. Seth followed closely behind to support his brother. “Folks,” Caleb said in a commanding voice, “this is just the kind of mob reaction that’ll get us in trouble. Let’s back off and think about this.”
    “The situation calls for a united approach,” Seth added.
    Amid some grumbling, the men reluctantly took their seats, and Seth heard one say to his companion, “Might as well listen to the Montgomery boys. They generally make sense.”
    When the group calmed down, Caleb continued. “We all know Lars Jensen is a conscientious sheriff. Nothing has happened here to cause us to mount some aimless posse. Be reasonable. Many of you have been residents of Chase County for several years or more.”
    Seth picked up the thread. “Haven’t we been satisfied with our law enforcement? Lately we’ve had one incident. No physical harm was done, and the guilty party didn’t loiter in these parts, I suspect because we have a no-nonsense sheriff. Now, then, let’s do as Jensen advises. Be watchful, notify him of any concerns and do our best to protect our womenfolk and children from rascals, but also from baseless fears.”
    The meeting closed with general agreement and a few apologies to the sheriff.
    Afterward, as Seth and Caleb rode side by side toward home, Seth thought about Caleb’s leadership. Although his military service had resulted in horrific experiences, it had also matured his younger brother. When their paths diverged, Seth gave voice to his observations. “Caleb, you did a good thing back there. We don’t need mob thinking.”
    At first, he thought Caleb hadn’t heard him, but then his brother answered him in a grim voice. “No, we don’t.