An Outlaw's Redemption

Chapter Twenty-One

Spring 1847

The snow had long melted away and the robins sang their triumphant song over the meadow in Pleasant Valley. Everything was in bloom again, even the forest itself had sprang with new life as the animals delivered their young. Tiny fawns and fluffy bunnies could be seen throughout the meadow, it was a happy time. A joyous one even. The children of Pleasant Valley also enjoyed playing in the meadow, gathering wildflowers, playing in the creek, or fishing in the pond. Even the grown-ups enjoyed a picnic out there from time to time, mostly on Sundays after services.

It was such a Sunday that Ivy May decided to run off from the picnic area and follow that cute older boy...he was at least five years her senior, but she didn't care about that. He was kind to her and unbeknownst to him, she had quite the crush on him.

"Wait for me, Weston!" she called as she ran up behind him. He glanced over his shoulder with a grin, "Well, hurry up then, Ivy May!"

She chuckled, "I'm trying, but you've got longer legs than me."

He smirked and continued once she reached him. She glanced into the small lunch pail he was carrying; inside there was several long pieces of scrap petticoat ripped into three-inch width and at least a yard in length all bundled up together, a jar of ointment, and a bottle of milk. Looking up to meet his tall stature she asked, "Where are we going?"

"To the edge of the meadow."

She wrinkled her brow and scrunched up her nose, "Why do you have all that stuff?"

"Gilbert told me there was a fawn over there. He didn't see it's Ma...I figure it might be hurt and hungry."

She questioned soberly, "Did it lose its Ma like I did?"

He shook his head, "I don't know, Ivy May."

Fiddling with her braid, she finally said, "It's not easy to do you know...live without a Ma, I mean. Pa does his best I suppose, but he just can't be my mother. Ma had a special way of making sure I felt loved. She always kissed me goodnight, read a story to me, and had my lunches ready every morning for school...she even baked me cookies twice a week."

Weston smiled softly down at her, "That's a nice memory, Ivy May. Hang onto it and don't lose it. It will be your sunshine on a cloudy day."

Ivy May nodded, "Do you have a memory like that of your Pa?"

Weston shook his head, "Not really...my Pa left when I was five. I don't remember much before then."

"Everybody remembers something."

A soft smile tugged its way onto Weston's lips, "Well, I don't know if this is a memory or a dream, but it feels real...my Pa would sneak candy to me when Ma wasn't looking, and he promised he'd take me to Boston one day where they've got this big emporium just full of sweets: ice cream, chocolate, confections. Anything you can think of, they've got it."

She beamed, "That sounds like heaven!"

He chuckled, "Yeah, maybe for us kids...I don't know if grownups fancy it as much as we do."

As they neared the edge of the meadow they came upon a hollowed log and beside it lay the fawn. It was so tiny Weston almost missed it entirely. There was no mother in sight, but from the dried blood around the fawn's back legs he figured whatever got his mother had taken a go at the fawn, too. Its mother had given her life for it to live. Doris whispered as she knelt down on the log, "Is it gonna be alright, Weston? It's just a baby."

He sighed, "I don't know, Ivy May, but I'm gonna do my best to make sure she lives." He gently picked up the fawn and cradled it in is arms. It shook involuntarily, but still, at the warmth of Weston's arms, it seemed to relax and settle into a peaceful state. As though it knew Weston only wanted to help and that perhaps now, it was safe.

Weston handed the bottle of goat's milk to Ivy May, "Here, see if she'll eat this while I tend to her leg."

Eagerly, Ivy May held the bottle towards the fawn who acted unsure at first, but then got the hang of it and seemed as though it had been starved. Ivy May shook her head, "I don't know if you've got enough milk for her...she's halfway done already!"

Weston smiled and applied the ointment to her wounds and carefully wrapped the cloth around her leg, "There. That should do it for now. What do you say we take her back to my house? She'll be safe there until she's better."

Carefully, Weston stood with the fawn wrapped in his arms and began heading back towards town. Ivy May picked up the pail and followed alongside him. Halfway back, they ran into a group of boys playing by the creek. They started picking and making fun of Ivy May with Weston.

"Oh, look at that, she's trying to be the perfect wife for you, Weston!"
"Is that y'all's baby there?" mocked another.

Weston eyed them and told Ivy May to keep walking. "Don't pay them no mind," he whispered. She felt safer in his company. He didn't pick on her like the others and he never made her feel unimportant simply because of her age. He had a way of talking to her that made her feel like she was just as old as he was, and she liked that. He didn't make her feel so little and helpless as when other folks spoke to her like she was just a small child.

Two of the boys didn't take kindly to Weston ignoring them, and one grabbed at the fawn, "Here, let me skin that for you! I like deer meat!"

Another pushed Ivy May down and taunted, "Gonna get your boyfriend to fight for you?"

Weston pushed him back with the sole of his boot, "Back off, Clovis! Don't you touch her again or I'll kick you so hard you'll fly clean out of the territory," and he pointed his finger at the other, "You'd best keep that mouth of yours shut, too, Aaron lessen your amin' to eat without teeth."

A tiny bit of pride swelled up in Ivy May as she watched how cleverly Weston had shot them down to size with mere words. He was the kindest, most gentle boy she'd ever known; but he could also stand up with a fair amount of grit against those aiming to do wrong. Perhaps that was what she liked most about Weston Barlow.

He had a good heart.

Extending his hand to her, he helped her to stand, then with a glance over his shoulder; the boys dipped their heads and apologized to Ivy May.

And so, the little war was over before it had time to begin. That was another thing Ivy May liked about Weston Barlow so much...she'd never once seen him ever have to fight but seemed apparent to all the other boys that he would wallop them all if he had a mind to, though he never did. She fell into step beside him again and he smiled at her as they neared his house. The aroma of freshly baked bread and cookies wafted toward them.

Smiling, he asked, "I think we deserve a treat after that, don't you?"

Her eyes glistened. He knew how much she adored his mother's cooking, and he also knew that his mother was much too kind not to let them have at least a couple before dinner time. The door opened to the small home, and there stood the beautiful Abigail Barlow, with her raven hair and gentle eyes. She smiled at them, "Weston, Ivy May...I've got some cookies on the table."