Courting Miss Amsel (10 page)

Chapter
TWELVE

Just as he did every Sunday, Reverend Coker asked for prayer concerns before he closed the service. Joel glanced at Robert, who sat quietly beside him. He was tempted to raise his hand and request help in defeating the fears that took hold of his nephew every time the sky turned dark and let loose a storm. He didn’t want to embarrass the boy, but he felt helpless against the unhealthy terror that gripped Robert during stormy hours.

While he was still considering making the request, the reverend’s gaze settled on someone behind Joel. A bench creaked, indicating one of the worshipers had risen, and then a familiar voice reached Joel’s ears.

“I’d like to ask for prayers for the schoolmarm’s sister.”

Joel twisted sideways and looked at Luthenia Kinsley. The older woman’s face wore an anxious grimace. He’d been disappointed when Miss Amsel hadn’t shown up for Sunday service. Now his disappointment changed to worry.

“The girl – her name’s Missy – turned up the other night durin’ the thunderstorm. August Jeffers found her lyin’ in the street, mumblin’ Miss Amsel’s name.”

A murmur went around the congregation. Apparently, like Joel, most were hearing this news for the first time. Of course, the storm was only a day ago, but even so, news usually spread quickly in town.

“She’s fightin’ a mighty high fever, and Miss Amsel’s doin’ a lot of frettin’ over Missy. Prayers for the girl’s recovery an’ for the schoolmarm’s peace would be welcome.”

“Will the school need to be shut down for a day or two?” Hank Libolt called out. Judging by his gruff tone, he wasn’t keen on the idea. But youngsters fidgeted, nudging each other with hopeful grins on their faces.

Miz Kinsley shook her head. “Miss Amsel’s too devoted to her pupils to close school. She’ll be at the schoolhouse tomorrow, same as always. I’ll be carin’ for Missy while school’s in session.” A couple of boys groaned, but they were quickly hushed by stern glances from their parents. Miz Kinsley sat down amidst another round of murmurs.

A few others voiced their requests, but Joel chose to keep his worry for his nephew to himself for the time being. He and Robert would work through the fear together. The minister closed in prayer, and people filed out. Several women surrounded Miz Kinsley, questions flying. The womenfolk no doubt hoped to extract all the details of the surprise visit from Miss Amsel’s sister. Curiosity filled Joel, too. He knew so little about the schoolmarm – hadn’t even known she had a sister. But beyond his curiosity, he felt concern. Miz Kinsley had said the schoolmarm was fretting.

“You boys go on out an’ play for a little while.” Joel gave the boys’ shoulders a gentle push. “But stay out of mud puddles. Keep your good clothes clean.”

“Yes, sir!” The boys snatched up their jackets and raced out the door.

Joel dallied in the aisle until the womenfolk cleared away. Then he caught up to Miz Kinsley. “Will Miss Amsel’s sister be all right?”

The older woman chuckled, shaking her head. “You mean you don’t want to know how old the girl is, where she come from, or how long she’s stayin’?” She aimed a wry grin at the retreating backs of the women who’d just scurried away.

Joel decided to be honest. “I reckon I do. But I’m more worried about how she’s doin’. You said fever from bein’ in the rain. Isn’t pneumonia, is it?” Pneumonia could be deadly – he’d never forget the sound of his mother’s final labored breaths.

Miz Kinsley shook her head. “Doc said her lungs were clear. It’s just a fever an’ all-over body achin’. An’ she’s all worn down from lack of eatin’. She’s none too pert, I can tell you that. Poor Miss Amsel’s not gettin’ any rest ’cause she’s sittin’ up day an’ night, tendin’ to her sister.”

Joel’s heart lurched in sympathy. He hoped she wouldn’t fall sick herself from worrying.

“Glad she’s headin’ to school tomorrow. It’ll do her good to get into the classroom an’ leave her sister’s care to me.” Miz Kinsley heaved a huge sigh. “Don’t mind tellin’ you, Joel, I’m a mite troubled over Edythe. She near wore herself to a frazzle with all the home visits, an’ now this.”

Edythe
. . . The schoolmarm’s given name reverberated through Joel’s chest. “Anything I can do? You need stove wood chopped or errands run? Now that things’re slowin’ down on the farm, I can come in an’ help with chores – whatever needs doin’.”

Miz Kinsley’s expression softened. “I appreciate that, truly I do. ’Specially comin’ from you, who has more’n enough to handle what with keepin’ up with those nephews of yours. For now we’re doin’ all right. Gonna depend on how long Missy is down to bed. Don’t feel as if I can leave her alone while she’s ailin’, not even for a run to the mercantile.” She tapped her lips with a spindly finger. “Could’ja maybe stop by the house on Tuesday? If the girl’s still down, I might have need of a few provisions.”

Eagerness rushed through Joel. “Be glad to, Miz Kinsley. Until then, you take care of yourself. Don’t want to see you gettin’ run down, too.”

“Oh, bosh.” She waved her hand at him. “Ol’ hen like me just keeps on a-peckin’.”

On Monday morning, when he sent the boys out the door with their lunch pails in hand, he admonished, “Be on your best behavior today for Miss Amsel, you hear? She’s got a lot on her mind with her sister ailin’ – don’t give her reason to fret.”

With wide innocent eyes, both boys vowed to be extra good. When they returned from school with tales of William Sholes’s misconduct, Joel was tempted to ride over to the Sholes farm and haul William to the woodshed himself – Miss Amsel shouldn’t have to put up with the boy’s deliberate naughtiness. His protectiveness puzzled him. He’d never worried about how old man Shanks was managing in the classroom. But old man Shanks didn’t have rosy lips, soft brown eyes flecked with green, and a heart as big and open as the Nebraska plains.

On Tuesday, Joel gave the boys a ride to the schoolhouse, hoping he might get a chance to say a kind word or two to Miss Amsel, but she was busy inside with something and he had to ride on to town without seeing her. He went straight to Miz Kinsley’s place, his heart thumping with anticipation that she’d have a list of chores so long it’d keep him in town for several hours. Maybe he’d get to see Miss Amsel after school was over for the day.

He clumped up onto Miz Kinsley’s porch, his palms sweating in spite of the cool mid-October morning. If Miz Kinsley told him he wasn’t needed, he just might dissolve from disappointment. He gave the door a few good whacks with his knuckles, then held his breath while he waited for her to answer. Only a few seconds passed before the door swung open and Miz Kinsley gestured him inside.

A cinnamony, yeasty smell greeted his nose, and his nostrils twitched in pleasure. Miz Kinsley grinned. “You had your breakfast yet, Joel? Baked up some raisin bread this mornin’ – thought it might entice Missy here to eat.”

Joel’s gaze flitted sideways to find a young girl stretched out beneath a pile of quilts on Miz Kinsley’s parlor settee. The girl reminded him of Miss Amsel with her tawny eyes and straight brown hair pulled back into a simple tail. But where Miss Amsel’s face always held a soft smile, this girl looked sullen and dull.

“Missy,” Miz Kinsley said, “this here is Mr. Townsend. He’s got two boys in your sister’s school. Fine boys – bright as new pennies an’ well-mannered to boot.”

Joel gave Missy a hesitant smile and nod in greeting.

Missy tugged the top quilt a little higher and stared at him with unblinking, somber eyes.

Miz Kinsley tugged on Joel’s elbow. “Come on into the kitchen, Joel, an’ I’ll whack you off a thick slice o’ that bread.”

Joel eagerly accepted the hunk of still-warm bread dotted with plump raisins and striped with cinnamon. He took a huge bite. The flavor burst on his tongue, and he released a groan of enjoyment. “Miz Kinsley, this is the best bread I ever tasted.”

“Well, then, I’ll have to send home the extra loaf for you an’ the boys. Heaven knows we won’t finish it here.” She sighed, and her voice dropped to a raspy whisper. “I can hardly get that sister o’ Edythe’s to eat more’n two bites of anything. An’ with Missy not eatin’, Edythe won’t hardly eat, either.” She sounded more disheartened than disgusted.

Joel glanced toward the parlor. He lowered his voice to match Miz Kinsley’s. “She givin’ you trouble?”

“It’s probably just the sickness – Doc says she’s still runnin’ fever, an’ you know nothin’ tastes good when you’re feelin’ puny.” Miz Kinsley clicked her tongue, her expression sad. “But how’s she gonna get her strength back if she don’t eat? She’s got Edythe an’ me terrible worried.” Then she threw her arms outward and let out a little huff. “But you didn’t come to listen to me spill my woes. You still willin’ to do some errands for me?”

Joel shoved the last of the bread into his mouth and swished his hands on his trouser legs. “Sure am.” He hoped the list was long – more than ever, he wanted to stick around long enough to offer a few words of encouragement to Miss Amsel when she returned from teaching. After watching his own mother pine away, day by day, he understood how her sister’s illness would trouble her. He offered a quick, silent prayer for the girl’s recovery and Miss Amsel’s peace while Miz Kinsley wrote out a list of items she needed from the mercantile.

She handed him the yellow slip of paper. “Could do with that ol’ osage orange tree the Sterbinz boys hauled in for me chopped up for my stove, as well, if you’ve got the time an’ are of a mind to.”

Joel pocketed the list and grinned. “I can spend the day if you’d like. Whatever needs doin’, let’s get it done.”

Miz Kinsley’s eyes twinkled with mischief. “You’re a good man, Joel Townsend. Don’t see how she’d do any better.”

Joel’s face flooded with enough heat to bake another loaf of bread. Her words confirmed she understood his secret motivation for wanting to stay until school let out. Before he could stammer out a defense, Miz Kinsley continued.

“Mercantile first, though – Wally’ll let you sign your name in place o’ mine, since he knows we got an ailin’ girl over here. I’ll see what’n all I can find around here to keep you occupied.” The teasing grin returned to her face, making her seem years younger. “An’ I’m hopin’ Miss Amsel’s appreciation for your willingness to help might send her thinkin’ in the same direction I am.”

Joel dashed out the door before he could say anything that might embarrass him. Bad enough to have Miz Kinsley speculating he was stuck on the new schoolmarm – it would plumb mortify him to prove her right.

As Miz Kinsley had indicated, Wally allowed Joel to sign off in the credit book, even though the supplies weren’t for him. Wally also plied Joel with questions about Miss Amsel’s sister, but Joel could only say what he knew – that the girl was stove up in bed and looked mighty puny. Wally seemed disappointed by the simple report, but Joel didn’t have time to worry about that. He had work to do at Miz Kinsley’s.

When he returned to Miz Kinsley’s, he drew the wagon around to the back rather than open the front door and bring cold air in on Missy. The older woman dove on the crates like a bear on a honey-filled beehive. While she bustled around, putting away her stores, Joel buttoned his jacket to the neck, fetched Miz Kinsley’s axe from the shed at the back edge of the property, and set to work hacking the osage orange into usable chunks.

Just as the bell in the church steeple clanged the noon hour, Joel divided the final hunk of wood into arm-sized wedges perfect for stacking in the stove’s belly. He stood upright, swiped his arm across his sweaty brow, and released a sigh of satisfaction. Now that the wood was cut, he’d get it stacked nice and neat right outside Miz Kinsley’s back door so the ladies wouldn’t have to wander out in the snow to retrieve fuel once winter hit.

As he stooped over and lifted two chunks, the back door opened and Miz Kinsley stuck her head out. “Joel? Can I talk you into runnin’ a quick errand for me?”

Joel tossed the pieces of wood aside and trotted to the dirt patch that served as a back stoop. “What’s that?”

Miz Kinsley held up a tin pail. “Edythe left so quick this mornin’ she forgot her lunch pail. She might not feel like eatin’, considerin’ her worry for her sister, but I don’t want her to get the idea I approve of her skippin’ meals.”

Joel’s heart doubled its tempo at the thought of Miss Amsel seeing him dirty and sweat-stained from his morning’s labor. Or maybe it quickened at the thought of seeing Miss Amsel. “Miz Kinsley, I’d like to oblige you, but I’m in a sorry state.” He sniffed his armpit and made a face. “I’d scare away a skunk right now, the way I smell.”

To his consternation, the woman laughed. “Joel Townsend, there’s nothin’ displeasin’ about a man’s sweat, ’specially when it’s the result of hard work. The schoolmarm ain’t the kind to turn up her nose. Besides, you can take a minute or two an’ clean up quick in my washbowl.”

Joel cast a dubious look at the round washbowl. It’d surely take a tubful of water to get him clean again.

Miz Kinsley shrugged. “But I reckon if you’re too shy, she’ll just have to – ”

Joel’s hand reached out and grabbed the pail’s handle. “I’ll take it to her.”

The same mischievous grin that had lighted Miz Kinsley’s eyes earlier that morning returned. She scurried out of his way when he charged toward the washstand. As clean as he could get under the circumstances, Joel turned to retrieve his jacket.

As he headed out the door, Miz Kinsley called, “I put two ham ’n’ cheese sandwiches an’ half a dozen cookies in that pail – plenty for two, if you’re of a mind to sit down an’ eat with her. Who knows – havin’ your company might convince the schoolmarm to eat a proper lunch.”

Chapter
THIRTEEN

Edythe’s stomach growled. She shifted on the porch of the schoolhouse, pressing her hand against her tummy to still the sound. In her rush to arrive early and get the stove started so the schoolroom would be warm for the students, she’d forgotten her lunch pail. For the first time since August Jeffers had deposited Missy on the parlor settee, Edythe experienced hunger pangs. And she had no way to appease them.

Although the October breeze had turned cold, the children still seemed to enjoy eating outside. The ground was soggy from last Friday’s storm, but the children located the driest patches and sat in little groups under the bright sunshine, coats on and shoulder to shoulder. Their happy voices carried to Edythe’s ears, and a smile tugged at her lips. How she loved listening to their giggles.

William Sholes sat off by himself today. Had he chosen to separate himself, or had the others refused to allow him to join their groups? The boy continued to create disturbances in the classroom, and none of her disciplinary tactics seemed to affect him. If she instructed him to stand in the corner, he whistled the entire time; if she assigned an additional page of arithmetic problems, he finished them in record time and smiled as he handed them in, seeming to view their completion as triumph. Nothing deterred William, and each day Edythe’s frustration grew as she battled for victory with the boy.

The rattle of a wagon interrupted her thoughts, and Edythe heard Johnny Townsend call out, “Hey, Uncle Joel!”

Her heart gave a startled leap. Why would Joel Townsend visit the school in the middle of the day? She rose as he drew the wagon to a halt. He hopped down and greeted his boys before ambling across the yard to the porch and offering her a lopsided grin. “Afternoon, Miss Amsel. Miz Kinsley sent me out.”

Fear exploded in Edythe’s middle, sending a sharp taste to the back of her tongue. She pressed her hand to her chest. “Is . . . is everything all right? Missy?”

A look of sympathy creased the man’s sunbrowned face. “Your sister was restin’ easy when I was at the house.” He hefted the little bucket she used to carry her lunch and swung it gently to and fro. “Miz Kinsley said you left your lunch behind. She asked me to tote it to you.”

Relief turned Edythe’s bones to jelly. She sank back onto the porch step.

Mr. Townsend went down on one knee in front of her, worry evident in his furrowed brow. He plunked the little pail next to her and leaned close. “You all right? Miz Kinsley said you haven’t been eating much. Not eating will make a body weak. Here . . .” He tugged aside the cloth napkin that covered the pail and pulled out a square, paper-wrapped packet. “Ham ’n’ cheese. Get that in your tummy, and quick as a wink, you’ll feel stronger.”

His kind tone coupled with the gentle teasing in his blue eyes made Edythe feel as if he viewed her as a child to be cajoled. Yet, oddly, she experienced no resentment. Without thinking, she asked a wistful query. “You promise?”

Her brief question seemed to surprise him as much as it surprised her – the comment could be construed as flirtation, and Edythe never resorted to flirtation. After a moment’s pause, he released a short laugh. “Yep, I promise.”

He slipped from his spot on the ground to sit on the lowest stair riser. Resting his back against the railing, he bobbed the sandwich on his broad palm. “So . . . you gonna eat or not?”

The twinkle in his blue eyes reminded her of the ornery glint Robert sometimes displayed. Her lips twitched, fighting off a smile. She’d have to be careful around Joel Townsend. The man was appealing. But as she’d emphatically told Luthenia, she was here to teach, not chase – or be chased by – a man. Especially not this encumbered man.

“I shall eat.” She quickly plucked the sandwich from his hand and began peeling back the paper.

His fingers inched toward the pail, which sat midway between the two of them. “Miz Kinsley put an extra one in there – for me, she said. Mind if I eat it? I worked up a powerful hunger choppin’ wood all morning. That’s why I look like I’ve been wrestling a pile of tumbleweeds.”

Edythe bit into the sandwich to keep from laughing. He did have the appearance of one who’d been rolling in dirt and branches. Little pieces of dried leaves stuck in his thick wavy hair, and his clothes were sweat-splotched and dusty. But his friendly grin and open demeanor chased away any offense. Even covered in dirt and bits of leaves, he was attractive.

Edythe flipped her hand toward the pail to give him permission to help himself. He bowed his head before lifting the sandwich to his lips, and Edythe’s face went hot. Luthenia always prayed before meals. By now, the habit should have become ingrained, yet she’d neglected to give thanks for her sandwich. Would he think ill of her, since she’d forgotten to pray?

To cover her discomfiture, she stammered out a question. “Y-you chopped wood for Luthenia this morning? I thought the Sterbinz boys were going to do that for her.”

Mr. Townsend shrugged, his jaw muscles contracting as he chewed. “Dunno. She asked me to do it. It’s all done, too – just need to stack the pieces before I head for home.”

He’d chopped the entire tree in one morning? Edythe recalled her father needing a full week to chop enough firewood to carry them for two wintry days. Consequently, their home was always cold. “Small wonder you look worn out.” She couldn’t hide the admiration in her voice. “That’s quite a task, turning an entire tree into firewood.”

He took another bite. “It wasn’t real big, as trees go, an’ the wood had been dead for a while, which makes for easier splitting. Get a good rhythm goin’ with a sharp axe, and it’s not so much work.”

Edythe opened her mouth to disagree, but a movement on the playground captured her attention. William Sholes, his body bent into an apostrophe, crept up behind the group of girls. He held a stick. Just before he poked the back of Jane Heidrich’s head, Edythe leaped to her feet, tipping over the lunch pail.

“William Sholes!”

The boy jolted upright.

“Take the stick to the woodpile and leave the girls alone.”

“I didn’t do nothin’.”

His quarrelsome tone stirred Edythe’s ire. She started to snap, “Only because I caught you before you could act,” but Mr. Townsend sat looking at her. She’d already forgotten to bless her food before eating; she wouldn’t allow him to witness impatience with a student.

Forcing her irritation aside, she formed a calm reply. “Lunch recess will be over soon. Put the stick in the pile, as I instructed, and use the remainder of the break constructively.” She waited until William began sauntering toward the kindling pile at the far corner of the schoolhouse before sitting back down. Only then did she notice broken cookies scattered across the steps.

“Oh, my . . .” She gathered the cookie pieces and dropped them in the pail. “Such a waste.” Her words carried a deeper meaning than the loss of the cookies. William was a bright boy – why did he use his intelligence to stir up trouble instead of for good?

Mr. Townsend brushed the crumbs off the steps with several sweeps of his hand and offered an apologetic grimace. “Johnny an’ Robert carry home plenty of tales about William’s shenanigans. I reckon he makes things a mite difficult for you.”

Although Edythe wished she could dispute his comment, she wouldn’t lie. Drawing in a deep breath, she admitted, “He is a . . . challenge.”

“Can I help?”

She shifted her head to meet his open gaze. Not even a hint of condemnation showed on his face. Asking for help was tantamount to admitting she couldn’t control William, but Mr. Townsend had boys of his own – well-behaved boys. Perhaps he could offer some advice.

She sighed. “Luthenia tells me I need to give him a good switching, but I made a promise to the students that I wouldn’t use the switch.” She searched Mr. Townsend’s face for signs of disapproval. Seeing none, she continued, “Besides, punishment seems to have no effect on William. In fact, to be perfectly frank, he seems to welcome the attention punishment brings.”

The realization took her by surprise. She’d never really considered it before, but instead of discouraging William, any kind of attention – including punishment – seemed to spur him on. Aloud, she mused, “Perhaps I should ignore him. Then I would be withholding what he apparently craves.”

A low chuckle rumbled from Mr. Townsend’s chest. “If he sees havin’ your attention – even unpleasant attention – as a reward, then ignorin’ him would be the only real punishment.” He tilted his head. Sun glinted on the honey strands lacing his walnut-husk-colored hair, momentarily stealing Edythe’s attention. “But can you overlook his bad behavior without makin’ problems for the rest of the class? Doesn’t seem fair somehow, forcin’ them all to put up with William’s misbehaving.”

“They’re already forced to tolerate William’s misbehaving, I’m afraid.” Regret threaded through Edythe’s middle. How she wished
something
would work so the classroom would be a pleasant place of learning for all of her students. “Far too much of my day is spent dealing with William. Sometimes I worry the others are being neglected because William steals so much of my time and energy.”

Mr. Townsend drew squiggles with his finger in the dirt between his feet. “Neither of my boys have ever mentioned feelin’ neglected, so I wouldn’t worry too much about that. But I agree you need to get William under control. He’s gonna wear you out. An’ we’d hate to have him run off a good teacher.”

Edythe’s cheeks burned at his praise. She shifted her attention to the sandwich in her hand.

“If he’s likin’ all the attention his tomfoolery brings, then seems to me you need to quit givin’ him what he wants. Ignore him, like you said.” Mr. Townsend gave her a serious look. “But the other kids need to understand what you’re doin’, or they’ll just think you’re lettin’ him get by with misbehavin’. Might start a whole string of trouble.”

Edythe nodded slowly. “That’s very sensible, Mr. Townsend. But how would I go about explaining this new plan of ending William’s pranks? He’s often one of the first to arrive and the last to go home.”

A sly grin crept up Mr. Townsend’s cheeks. “I might be able to help you with that.”

She raised one eyebrow, both eager and hesitant to hear his plan. “Oh?”

“Seems to me your woodpile could use some bolstering. How about I take William with me to gather up a few limbs – him bein’ the oldest boy in school, makes sense he’d be asked to help.”

His grin climbed higher, bringing out a dimple in his left cheek. Edythe found herself mesmerized by the beguiling little dent in his smooth-shaven skin. She had to force herself to listen as he continued speaking.

“While he’s with me, you could gather the other youngsters an’ have a talk with ’em – make sure they understand what you’re doin’ an’ get them to help you. After all, if ignorin’ is what it’ll take to bring William around, it’ll take everybody ignorin’ him – not just the schoolmarm.”

Edythe stared at him, amazed. “You’d really do that?”

He shrugged. “Why not? His pranks cause Robert an’ Johnny plenty of aggravation. It’s the only part of school they don’t like – dealin’ with William.”

Shame struck. She wanted the children to feel at ease and comfortable in school. She’d failed them by allowing William such control. “I’m sorry, Mr. Townsend.”

“Don’t feel bad, Miss Amsel.” His gentle voice soothed her battered feelings. “Used to be, the boys didn’t want to go to school at all. That’s changed because of you. This is just one little problem, an’ you’ll get it solved. Now . . .” He slapped his thighs and pushed to his feet. “I’ll fetch William an’ take him on that errand, an’ you have a good talk with your pupils.”

Edythe rose and held out her hand. Without a moment’s pause, Mr. Townsend took it. Gooseflesh broke out across her back and arms at the feel of his strong fingers around hers. She swallowed. “Thank you for your advice and your lack of criticism, Mr. Townsend. Now I understand why Johnny and Robert are such kindhearted boys. They’ve had a very good teacher.”

The man’s cheeks flushed red, and he released a light chuckle. “All we can do is our best with the good Lord’s help, ma’am.”

He stepped backward, releasing her hand. She experienced an unexpected rush of melancholy with the loss of contact. He strode in the direction of the play yard.

Edythe stared after him, her heart pattering in an unfamiliar pattern. Clutching her hands together, she berated herself for her childish reaction. This man’s kindness was igniting ridiculous ideas in her mind.

Lifting her skirts a few inches, she skipped up the steps. She took hold of the bell’s pull-rope and gave it a sharp yank. The children ran from all directions. Waving her hands, she hurried them through the door. “Inside, children. We have something important to discuss.”