A Yellow Bonnet

Lambs

I woke the children bright and early the next morning eager to pet my first sheep. After breakfast, they took me to see them in the far northern field. Oh, they were delightful, the sheep! They looked soft and fluffy as a summer cloud. But to my surprise their wool was coarse and thick. The lambs were the cutest, little things. I had to admit I liked them more than seals. I named three of the newest Harriet, Mattie, and Lou, after the aunties. The children got a "hoot" out of it.

To my horror, however, we came upon another lamb who had died in the night. It lay curled up, so stiff and cold.

"It's mama probably abandoned it," Anna stated.

"How dreadful!"

Tears filled my eyes. The poor lamb had never had a chance. Sweet and innocent, without a protector.

The grating sound of villainous turkey buzzards filled the sky above, seemingly out of thin air.

"Shoo! Shoo, you mercenaries!" I shook my fist at them.

They flew away and I plopped down within a few feet of the dead lamb.

"Do not come near, Caleb, Anna. You should not touch a dead animal."

"But what are you doing, Sarah?" Caleb asked.

"I cannot let this poor lamb be eaten by buzzards. It doesn't deserve that kind of burial. I am going to keep watch."

The children stayed with me a while longer before growing bored and ran off to do their chores.

I never could bear to watch suffering. Since I was a little girl, I had brought home injured birds, to-be-drowned kittens, that's how I came upon Seal, and other little animals in need of care and love. It was only with Aunt Lou's expert assistance that those animals grew well again. She was the only one who didn't tease me.

The sun was past midday when Jacob appeared by my side, shovel in hand.

"Anna told me you were here."

"I couldn't leave it to be eaten," I cried softly.

"These things happen. It's a part of nature," his voice was kind.

"I know. But I still think it's dreadful."

He squeezed my shoulder, "Should we bury it?"

I nodded, wiping my tears on my apron.

It didn't take long for him to dig a small hole. After it was buried, I laid some flowers on its grave.

"Thank you," I whispered to Jacob.

""Let's go back to the house," he said, shouldering the shovel.

"I must seem silly to you," I said, breaking a long silence, "for crying over sheep."

"Not at all. My wife was like that too. She cared deeply for all animals, pets or food."

Sorrow clouded his eyes. This man loved deeply I could see.

"What was she like?"

A smile softened his serious face as he said, "She was a gentle wife and mother. She was always singing. Elli was like a quiet butterfly, fluttering about. Anna adored her. But she wasn't very strong. She had scarlet fever as a child. Having Anna was too hard. Having Caleb..."

Jacob stopped talking and stood motionless as he swallowed hard. I laid a hand on his arm.

"If you don't want to talk about it–"

"No. I want to," he let out a shuddery breath, and we continued on our way, "We weren't supposed to have more children. But, Ellie, she was an only child. She dreamed of having a big family. I couldn't refuse her anything. But I don't regret anything. I don't regret Caleb. If I had the chance to do things over, I don't know if I'd change anything."

This was the most Jacob had ever said to me in my short stay. A warm feeling grew in my chest. Was it respect? Admiration? No.

"They are wonderful children. I love them."

"I'm glad."

He beamed. My heart did peculiar things when he smiled at me. When had I become such a fluttery thing? I was twenty-eight, too old and sensible a woman to fall prey to fluttering hearts and blushing cheeks.

I had not come expecting love, yet, perhaps, a part of me wished for it.

But only a small part. I couldn't be picky