Courting Miss Amsel (23 page)

Missy folded her arms over her chest. “No way the town council will keep you now – not after you sent William home. An’ Martha says Terrill is friends with William’s pa . . .” She blew out a breath. “So he’s probably mad an’ won’t come take us to dinner. He won’t want to marry you, either.” Swinging a furious gaze upward, she snapped, “We might as well say goodbye to Walnut Hill right now.”

Missy stormed down the stairs and joined Martha. Missy slipped her arm around Martha’s waist and Martha responded in kind. Edythe’s chest ached at the sight. Unbidden, Luthenia’s warning that God would act ran through Edythe’s memory. She nibbled her lower lip, contemplating a possibility. William had misbehaved from the first day of school, but she’d chosen this day to dismiss him. Was her action her own impatience rising to the fore, or had her action been prompted by God as a means of guiding her away from Walnut Hill?

Chapter
THIRTY-FIVE

“Sure am grateful to my folks for keeping Johnny an’ Robert this evening so we could have some time alone.” Maribelle’s smile, lit by the candles in the center of their table, looked sweet and tender. Joel wished the sight would stir something deep inside him. Because it didn’t, and because he felt guilty that it didn’t, he put his hand over the top of hers.

“Me too.” On the drive over, Maribelle had chattered on and on about the changes she wanted to make to his little log house. He’d found himself gritting his teeth – did the house really need lace curtains at the windows or store-bought carpets laid out on the floors? He and the boys had managed just fine without frippery.

“This is the first time we’ve been truly alone.” Her words slipped out on a breathy sigh.

He forced a smile, even as a band seemed to wrap around his chest and squeeze. When they married, he’d have lots of alone time with Maribelle. The thought brought a sense of panic.

Her fingers trembled beneath his. “With Ma an’ Pa so close, they can keep the boys lots of times for us.” She ducked her head a bit, peeking at him shyly through her eyelashes. “Or maybe you’d think about lettin’ them go to a school.”

“The boys already go to school.” With Miss Amsel.

Maribelle nodded rapidly, the curls on her forehead bouncing. “Oh, I know. But Pa was tellin’ me there’re these schools where kids go an’ live.”

Joel jerked his hand free of hers. “What?”

She pursed her lips into a pout. “Now, don’t get all ruffled, Joel. You’ve done real fine, carin’ for your brother’s kids, but don’t you want some time to yourself? We’ll be newly married, and we . . .” Her face flooded pink in the lamp’s glow. “We’ll want our own young’uns. Takin’ care of our own
and
Johnny an’ Robert . . . ?”

Joel lowered his brows and spoke sternly, the way he would if one of the boys got a fool notion. “I’m not sendin’ Johnny an’ Robert off to some school with a bunch of strangers. Besides that, the only boarding schools I’ve heard tell of near here are set up by missionaries for Indian kids. My boys aren’t Indians.”

She laughed softly and reached for his hand again. “Well, Ma says boys are little heathens.” She grinned as if she’d made a fine joke.

Joel removed his hand from her cloying grip and tucked it under the table. “Your mother called
my
boys heathens?” He’d left them with the woman for the evening. He experienced a strong urge to drag Maribelle out of the restaurant and go back to Walnut Hill right now.

“Oh, not yours specifically – just boys in general. She’s not used to boys, Joel. She only had me, you know.” Maribelle fluttered her eyelashes. “She’ll get used to ’em over time the same way I will.” A slight grimace creased her face so quickly Joel thought he might have imagined it. Then she brightened, her gaze focused on something behind his shoulder. “Why, look there! It’s Terrill Sterbinz with the schoolmarm.”

Joel’s gut clutched.

Maribelle waved her hand in the air. “Yoohoo! Terrill! Over here.”

Joel rose as Miss Amsel, escorted by Terrill, approached their table. Terrill’s sister and Missy Amsel trailed behind. Maybe Terrill was treating his sister, and Martha had invited her friend to join them. Maybe Miss Amsel had come along as a chaperone of sorts. Maybe it wasn’t what it appeared.

“Hey, Maribelle . . . Joel.” Terrill’s hand slipped around Miss Amsel’s waist. She sucked in a quick breath and stiffened. “Wish I’d known you folks were comin’ tonight. We could’ve rode together – might’ve saved me some aggravation.”

“How so?” Maribelle asked.

Terrill made a sour face. “Just as I headed for the school, my horse threw a shoe. Took me a while to get ’im reshod.” He chuckled, winking at Joel. “ ’Course, you’re prob’ly glad we didn’t ride with you. Reckon you’d rather have Maribelle all to yourself, same as me with Edythe here.”

So he called her Edythe, did he? The schoolmarm had let Terrill get familiar in a hurry. Joel offered a brusque “no” and slid back into his chair. Maribelle’s hand immediately slipped across the table to link with his again. It took all of his self-control not to push it away.

Terrill jabbed his thumb toward Missy and his sister, who stood a few feet away, admiring the dining room. “ ’Course, I don’t have Edythe to myself, as you can see. Where’re your young’uns, Joel?”

Maribelle answered, “They’re with my folks, gettin’ acquainted. After all” – that little grimace puckered her face again – “they’ll be callin’ my folks Grandma an’ Grandpa before too long.”

Joel glanced at Miss Amsel. Her mouth looked white around the edges. Probably from pinching her lips closed so tight. He blurted, “You an’ Terrill ever come here before?”

Terrill blasted a laugh. “Nope. But I’m hopin’ to come again soon.” He glanced at the girls. “ ’Course, next time we’ll come alone. Right, Edythe?”

Miss Amsel stepped free of Terrill’s restraining arm. She gestured the girls forward then flashed a quick, impersonal smile at Maribelle and Joel. “We’re keeping you two from enjoying your time together. Mr. Sterbinz, didn’t the maître d’ indicate we were to take the table near the fireplace?” She grabbed the girls by their elbows and steered them toward the table. Terrill spun and trotted after her.

Joel watched the group until they settled at their table. Miss Amsel chose the chair with its back to him. Disappointed, he turned to face Maribelle, who gave him an uncharacteristic scowl. He started to ask her what was wrong, but the waiter approached their table with plates balanced in his hands. Joel sent up a short prayer of gratitude for the waiter’s timing.

Right or wrong, he suddenly had no desire to ask what Maribelle was thinking.

Sitting on the wagon seat beside Terrill, Edythe silently bemoaned the dismal evening. Throughout the meal in the beautifully decorated dining room of the Lincoln Valley hotel, she’d had to fight the urge to peek over her shoulder and see if Joel was holding Maribelle’s hand. It wasn’t any of her business, but curiosity had nearly driven her mad. Besides, she’d needed to stay alert. Twice before their food arrived Terrill had reached clear across the table in search of her fingers, but she’d eluded him both times. Fortunately, Missy and Martha had kept up a constant chatter or their table would have been cloaked in uncomfortable silence.

Now they rode beneath an endless expanse of star-laden sky. Moonlight bathed the landscape in a gentle glow and shimmered on the horses’ sleek rumps. Delightful scents teased Edythe’s nose while the steady
clop-clop
of the horses’ hooves, the crunch of the wheels, and the cry of a night bird created a unique lullaby. This was the kind of night that should inspire romance. But her heart felt like a lump of lead.

The girls nestled in a pile of hay in the back of the wagon, whispering and occasionally giggling. Terrill glanced at Edythe now and then, opening and closing his mouth as if wishing to talk but uncertain of what to say. Shadows cast by his hat brim hid his expression, yet Edythe sensed his displeasure. She couldn’t fault him. As soon as she had an opportunity to speak to him away from Martha’s and Missy’s listening ears, she would apologize.

Terrill dropped Martha at their home before taking Missy and Edythe into town. He stopped on the street outside Luthenia’s house, set the brake, and hopped down. He reached for Missy first, swinging her from the back.

She giggled, skittering away from him. “Thank you for the delightful evening, Mr. Sterbinz. I had a fine time.”

“You’re welcome.” Terrill’s words followed convention, but his gruff tone ruined the effect. “Why don’tcha head on in. I need to speak to your sister.”

Missy flashed an uncertain look at Edythe but scampered off. Terrill waited until the door closed behind her. Then he aimed his unsmiling gaze on Edythe. “Edythe, I – ”

“Please let me speak first.”

He folded his arms over his chest.

Edythe wished she’d climbed down. She felt awkward, looking at him from the wagon’s high seat. “I apologize. You gave Missy and me a real treat by taking us to Lincoln Valley, and I ruined the evening for you.”

He yanked his hat from his head, displaying the deep furrows in his brow. “What did I do to make you so standoffish?”

You’re forward and presumptuous
. The words flitted through Edythe’s brain, but she kept them from spilling from her lips. “It’s no fault of yours. I simply was unable to relax.” She forced a light chuckle. “To be perfectly frank, Mr. Sterbinz, this was my first dinner with a gentleman.”

Terrill’s jaw dropped open. “You never been taken out to dinner?”

She shook her head. Responsibility had always presided over pleasure.

“That’s a shame. Pretty gal like you, never havin’ a beau . . .” Propping his elbow on the edge of the seat, he leaned in. “A fellow has a hard time makin’ a lady feel special when he’s got two gigglin’ girls watchin’ his every move. Could we maybe go again . . . next Friday?”

Edythe pulled in her lower lip.

“Folks around here – even Miz Kinsley – will tell you I’m not a bad fellow.” He grinned, tipping his head to the side. He looked very boyish and approachable with a light breeze ruffling his blond hair. “Gimme one more chance to show you a nice evenin’. An’ if you still don’t think you like me after that, I won’t ask you again. That sound fair enough?”

Should she prolong this façade, knowing she had no interest in Terrill? A denial trembled on her lips – it seemed unkind to continue seeing him when her departure from Walnut Hill waited around the bend. But looking into his earnest, hopeful face, she discovered she didn’t have the strength to utter it.

“It . . . it’s very fair to me, Terrill.” She swallowed against an urge to cry.

“Good.” He returned his hat to his head with a grand sweep. Then his arms snaked out and he caught her around the waist. The moment her feet touched the ground, he released her. “I’ll see you in church Sunday, I reckon.”

She turned toward the house, but he put out his hand, delaying her. “Miz Kinsley’ll probably tell you soon as you go in, but – ” He scratched his jaw, twisting his lips into a grimace. “After the service on Sunday, town council’s wantin’ to have a few words with you.”

About William
.

“Lloyd Sholes has got up a full head of steam.” Even with his face shadowed, Edythe believed she read sympathy in Terrill’s earnest gaze. “I know him pretty good – even count him a friend. I’ve watched his boy grow up, an’ I know William’s a mischief-maker. Martha fusses about him plenty at home. So I was thinkin’ . . .” Terrill lowered his head, scuffing the ground with the toe of his boot. “If you need somebody to speak up for you, I’d be willin’.”

If she were honest with herself, Edythe didn’t care about Terrill’s support. She longed for the support of the only man who had ever set her heart aflutter. But he was promised to another. “Thank you, Terrill. I would appreciate it.”

“Count on it, then.” He gestured toward the house. “It’s late – better let you head in before Miz Kinsley waves a fryin’ pan at me for keepin’ you so long.”

Edythe laughed – unexpectedly, delightedly. How good it felt to laugh. She lifted her hand in a wave and hurried toward the house, but when she reached the door her feet came to a stumbling halt. Worry smote her as forcefully as a star releasing its grip in the heavens and plummeting to earth.

She’d been right to dismiss William. He deserved a severe punishment for his months of misbehavior. But the decision had brought down so much anger – from William, Missy, Mr. and Mrs. Sholes, the town council . . . Her breath caught. What if they chose to dismiss her immediately? The planting season was only weeks away – they might decide the children had received enough schooling for the year. She and Missy had nowhere to go except back to her father’s home.

A groan escaped her throat. Why didn’t God act, as Luthenia had promised He would, and rescue her? If she had to return to Omaha – and Pa – she’d be trapped. Looking up at the twinkling stars, she whispered, “What are You trying to do to me?”

Chapter
THIRTY-SIX

Edythe’s stomach flip-flopped as Reverend Coker closed the service. She’d heard little of the sermon – her focus had been on keeping her breakfast where it belonged. If only she could appear calm and composed when she faced the town council. But the way her stomach churned, she feared she looked exactly as she felt: terrified.

Reverend Coker ended his prayer with a resounding “Amen,” and then he held up his hands. “If you have children in school, the town council would like you to stay for a meeting. We’ll give the children and the folks who don’t have youngsters a few minutes to leave.”

Mumbling, people rose and began shuffling toward the aisles.

“We can’t leave our young’uns unattended durin’ a long meeting,” Mrs. Libolt called from a back pew.

Edythe’s gut clenched. They were expecting a long meeting? How many complaints would they launch at her? And how would she bear the council’s censure with dozens of witnesses looking on? Unconsciously, she reached for support, and she found Luthenia’s hand. The older woman curled her work-roughened fingers around Edythe’s hand, the grip tight and sure.

“My wife an’ I will oversee the children in the churchyard,” the reverend said in a calm voice. He strode down the center aisle.

Luthenia leaned close, her breath stirring the fine hairs at Edythe’s temple. “I’m goin’ to help the reverend an’ his missus with the young’uns, but don’t you worry. We’ll be prayin’ for you. Whatever happens here today, you just trust God’s got it all under control.” Luthenia took hold of Missy’s shoulders and guided the girl from the building. Edythe remained on the bench alone. Nausea created a foul taste in her mouth, and she swallowed hard.

Hank Libolt strode to the front of the church. “You all know why we’re here.” He sounded grim.

Edythe caught herself nodding. She imagined dozens of other heads bobbing up and down in unison. A hysterical giggle tried to worm its way upward, but she forced it down.

“It’s my stand that Miss Amsel here” – he flapped a hand in her direction – “acted in foolishness an’ spite when she dismissed William Sholes from school.”

She dared a quick look over her shoulder. Stoic faces peered forward. She let her gaze bounce across the rows, hoping for a glimpse of understanding or sympathy somewhere, and her eyes locked with Joel Townsend’s. Maribelle Jenkins sat close beside him, openly declaring herself as Johnny and Robert’s soon-to-be parent. Something tangled around her chest, making it hard to breathe. She zipped her face forward again.

Mr. Libolt’s strong voice echoed from the rafters. “We got two things need to be set right today. We need to get William Sholes back in school, and we need to get Miss Amsel straight on what kind of teacher we want for our young’uns.”

A rustle at the back of the room indicated someone stood. “I think we oughtta ask E – Miss Amsel why she dismissed William.” Terrill Sterbinz spoke up for her, just as he’d promised.

“Only parents get a say in this meetin’, Sterbinz,” Mr. Libolt 292 growled.

“I’m the closest thing to a pa Martha’s got. So I’m stayin’.”

Mr. Libolt set his mouth in a disgruntled line.

Terrill went on. “You claimed Miss Amsel sent William home out of foolishness an’ spite, but I don’t know how we can call it such ’til we know exactly what happened.”

A few murmurs sounded, some approving and some carrying a note of protest. Mr. Libolt turned his angry gaze on Edythe. “Teacher, tell us why you sent William home.”

His commanding tone made Edythe want to curl her hands around the bench and refuse to move. But this was her opportunity to exonerate herself. On quivering legs, she made her way to the front of the room and stood beside Mr. Libolt’s glowering presence.

“I have reprimanded William Sholes on numerous occasions for speaking out of turn or treating the other children unkindly. On Friday morning, without having been given permission to speak, he harshly criticized an idea Andrew Bride shared with the class.” Remembering Andrew’s embarrassment, indignation filled Edythe’s frame. She lifted her chin. “I decided the other children had been subjected to William’s bullying long enough. So I sent him home.”

A snort carried from the left side of the church, and Mr. Sholes jolted to his feet. He pointed at Edythe, his face red. “You haven’t liked our boy since the first week – comin’ out to our place to complain about him.” He flashed his angry gaze around the room. “She wanted me to take ’im in hand for her. I told her to handle him herself and if she couldn’t, then she’s got no business teachin’.”

Edythe’s cheeks filled with heat. How many parents would agree with Mr. Sholes’s assessment?

Mr. Bride, nearly as wide as he was tall, struggled upright. “I’ll admit I’ve wondered about some o’ the things Miss Amsel’s done by way of teachin’. Seemed a mite peculiar to me, them ropes in the schoolyard and using school time to study bugs. But” – he shifted from foot to foot, the floorboards creaking beneath his oversized boots – “the only fussin’ Andrew or Louisa have done about school is to complain about William pickin’ on ’em. They came home Friday right pleased that they wouldn’t have to put up with no more pesterin’.”

Mr. Sholes spun on Mr. Bride. “Young’uns tease. They all do it. I’d wager even your young’uns do it.”

Mr. Bride nodded his great head. “Sure they tease.” He looked down, reminding Edythe of his bashful son. “But few take such pleasure in tormentin’ others. Truth be known, I’m glad Miss Amsel sent your William home.” He sat amidst a fresh round of murmurs.

Mr. Sholes charged to the front of the room. Edythe reflexively drew back, but the man stopped on the other side of Hank Libolt. With his hands on his hips, Mr. Sholes glared at the gathered folks. “Anybody else glad Miss Amsel dismissed my boy?”

Feet shuffled on the floor, and people whispered to each other. But no one responded. Mr. Bride looked around, his face sad. Edythe’s heart went out to the man – he’d taken a stand and ended up standing alone. But then Joel Townsend rose. Edythe’s heart leapt into her throat.

“Lloyd, I’d like to understand somethin’. You said you didn’t want to be bothered about troubles at school – you wanted Miss Amsel to handle William on her own.”

“That’s right,” Mr. Sholes blustered.

“Seems to me she did what you wanted her to do. She handled William.” Mr. Townsend chuckled softly, and a few folks echoed it. “Didn’t handle it the way you might’ve preferred, but you didn’t want to be involved.” His gaze swept the room, his brow puckered. “In years past we let the teacher discipline however he saw fit. Never had a big meeting to tell the teacher he’d done wrong. So why’re we doin’ it now?”

Mr. Scheebeck jumped up. “ ’Cause of her odd ways of doin’ things. Like Bride said – she don’t teach like other teachers. Half the town’s been carryin’ a bee in its bonnet over some of her methods. Includin’ me.” He sent a repentant grimace in Edythe’s direction. “But if you’re gonna get all het up over keepin’ William out of school, then you’ve gotta get het up at me, too. ’Cause I’ve told him he can’t come into the mercantile no more. He pulled a prank that could’ve got somebody hurt bad.”

Terrill stood again. “My sister’s done a heap of complainin’ about William. How many others’ young’uns have come home, upset over somethin’ William did to ’em?”

To Edythe’s amazement, almost every parent in the room put a hand in the air, and voices called from every corner.

“Anna’s downright scared of him – says he’s mean.”

“Had to cut two inches off Mable’s hair, it was stained so bad from ink. William kept dippin’ her braid in the inkwell.”

“He tied up the outhouse door with Patience inside. She’s been scared of the dark ever since.”

Mr. Sholes’s face grew redder and redder during the recitation of offenses. His shoulders rose, his chest expanding, and Edythe held her breath, waiting for the explosion. Finally, he waved his fist. “So are you all sayin’ you approve of William bein’ dismissed? That what you’re sayin’?”

Silence fell. Mr. Sholes charged down the center aisle and grabbed his wife by the arm. “We don’t gotta listen to none of this.” The pair bustled out, the man leading and the woman tripping to keep up.

Everyone looked back at Mr. Libolt. He stared at the door, his jaw slack.

One by one, the town council members left the benches to move to the front of the room. Edythe stood with her shoulders square, her hands clasped in front of her. Mr. Bride, Mr. Jeffers, Mr. Heidrich, and Mr. Scheebeck lined up beside Mr. Libolt in a solemn row.

Mr. Jeffers addressed those seated. “We’re gonna take a vote. If you’re a parent of one of the school’s young’uns, you got a say.” His lips twitched. “Miss Amsel oughtta be happy the mothers can vote, too.” He cleared his throat, removing the humor from his tone. “Those in favor of lettin’ William Sholes come back to school tomorrow, say ‘aye.’ ”

Mr. Libolt thundered, “Aye!” His lone voice hung in the room like the sulfuric odor from William Sholes’s rotten eggs. He took a shuffling step backward.

Mr. Jeffers spoke again. “Those in favor of William Sholes bein’ kept out of school for the rest of this year, say ‘aye.’ ”

Although few voices rang with enthusiasm, every person remaining offered their agreement. Edythe’s heart pounded so hard she felt certain her ribs would break. The greater part of the town had supported her decision. Her knees went weak, and it took all the power she possessed to remain upright. Needing to sit, she moved toward the front bench.

Mr. Libolt leaped forward to seize control of the meeting again. “There’s the second issue.” He pinned Edythe in place with a fierce scowl. “Her ways of teachin’. We haven’t got that settled yet.”

Mr. Heidrich pulled out his timepiece and frowned at its round face. “Hank, it’s well past noon. Our young’uns are needin’ to be fed. I say we hold off on this for another meetin’.”

Several people called out their agreement.

Mr. Libolt hesitated, then gave a nod. “Tomorrow evenin’, then. Seven o’clock, right here in the church. All parents are invited.” He looked at Edythe with squinted eyes, reminding her of a lizard ready to devour a fly. “We’ll see you tomorrow evenin’, Miss Amsel.”

People filed out while Edythe remained at the front of the church. No one approached to offer a word of encouragement or appreciation, but neither did anyone condemn her. Relief that she could finish the year without William’s distracting behavior battled with worry about what tomorrow would bring. Hope that the town might rally in support and choose to keep her hovered on the fringes of her heart, and she longed to grasp it with both hands and hold tight.

A giggle carried to her ears – Maribelle Jenkins, clinging to Joel Townsend’s elbow as he escorted her from the church. Hope crumbled, and it was replaced with a stab of pain. If she stayed in Walnut Hill, she’d be forced to witness Maribelle with Joel, Maribelle with Johnny and Robert. Still pondering that fact, she jumped when someone touched her arm. She turned to find Terrill standing beside her.

He grinned. “Went a little different than you thought, huh?”

Joel and Maribelle disappeared around the corner. Edythe drew in a steadying breath. “Oh yes. I’m quite relieved.”

“Me too. Martha’ll be happier’n a farmer with a bumper crop when she hears the news. She’s never liked William.”

Edythe’s lips formed a quavering smile. Then she sobered. “But there’s still tomorrow’s meeting . . .”

Terrill started to say something, but clattering footsteps intruded. Missy barreled down the aisle, her face alight with joy. She flung her arms around Edythe’s neck. “I heard! They’re not lettin’ William come back. You won!”

Terrill met Edythe’s gaze over Missy’s head. “See you at the meetin’ tomorrow, Edythe.” He ambled out of the building, his stride long and sure.

Missy pulled back. “What meeting tomorrow?”

Edythe slipped her arm around Missy’s shoulders and aimed her for the doors. “Let’s talk about it at Luthenia’s, hmm? I would imagine by now that pork roast she put in the oven is close to becoming a burnt offering.”

Missy giggled at the silly phrase Luthenia always used. She skipped ahead, humming to herself. Edythe envied her sister’s lightheartedness. Even if tomorrow’s meeting went well – even if the town elected to offer her a contract for next year – Edythe would refuse it. She’d allow Missy these moments of happy abandon, because by tomorrow evening, her sister’s joy would crumble to despair.