Courting Miss Amsel (24 page)

Chapter
THIRTY-SEVEN

Edythe smiled as she listened to the jabber of children’s happy voices in the back of Luthenia’s wagon. The river, their trees, and the promised picnic waited ahead, and her excitement matched the children’s. She wished she could hurry old Gertie, but she wisely held the horse to a sedate pace down the side of the road where the ruts weren’t as deep. She didn’t want to bounce anyone out of the back.

The morning air held a bite, but it smelled crisp and clean, and the sunshine beaming overhead assured her the day would be warm. Tender green shoots had appeared across the brown landscape, and tiny dots of white set in little green bowls indicated chickweed was already in bloom. Looking from the rolling countryside to the clear sky lit by a bold yellow sun, Edythe deemed it a perfect picnic day. Not having to worry about William’s shenanigans made the day even brighter.

Ahead, water burbled. She smiled over her shoulder. “Children, listen! Do you hear the river’s song?”

Their voices fell silent, their heads tilting like a flock of robins listening for worms. Little Will cried, “I hear it! I hear it!” Several others hushed him.

Edythe guided Gertie off the road and across an even expanse of prairie. She drew the wagon within twenty yards of the river and set the brake. Turning on the seat, she sent a stern look into the back. “Now remember what we discussed at school – no one wanders off alone, and stay well away from the water. As much rain as we had last week, the water’s high and moving faster than usual. I want everyone to be safe. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Miss Amsel,” they chorused.

Edythe smiled her approval. “Andrew and Lewis, grab those shovels. Louisa, Ada, and Sophie, each of you take a bucket. Jane, bring the roll of burlap.”

Terrill had advised Edythe on the best way to keep the roots on the little trees from drying out. He’d also volunteered to go to the school this morning while she and the children were away and dig holes to receive the trees. She’d pounded pegs in the places she wanted the trees transplanted. Now, imagining him there in the schoolyard, preparing for their return, a little niggle of apprehension plagued her. She appreciated his help, but she hoped her acceptance of assistance didn’t give him the idea she was accepting
him
.

Clapping her hands, she called, “All right, everyone, line up behind the boys. We’ll go choose our trees.”

With a cheer, the children leaped from the back of the wagon and formed a scraggly line. Edythe delegated Martha and Missy to the rear where they could make certain no one fell behind and got lost. Then she joined Andrew and Lewis at the front. Avoiding the shovel bobbing on Andrew’s shoulder, she thrust her fist into the air. “Let’s go!”

The children marched along, singing “Yankee Doodle” interspersed with giggles. When they reached the riverbank, Edythe issued another warning about staying away from the water. It rushed past, debris rolling on the surface. She hadn’t realized the river would be so angry, and for a moment she wondered if they should return on another day. But looking at the happy, eager faces, she didn’t have the heart to disappoint them.

She called out the instructions Terrill had given her. “Look for well-shaped trees, no taller than Mable’s head, with tiny buds on all the branches.”

The children scattered, the youngest ones accompanied by the older ones. Within fifteen minutes, amidst a few good-natured arguments, they’d made their selections.

Edythe examined the trees, pretending to frown as she counted branches and measured them against Mable’s height. Then she flashed a smile. “Perfect choices!” Exuberant shouts rose, and little Jenny jumped up and down. “Andrew and Lewis, begin digging. Remember to leave a big ball of dirt around the root – we want these little trees to live.”

The boys nodded solemnly and pressed the shovel heads into the rich, sandy soil. Edythe ushered the others back toward the wagon and put the older girls to work setting up for their picnic. The younger children linked hands, formed a circle, and began to play one of their favorite games in an open area nearby.

Unbidden, a lump filled Edythe’s throat. When these children grew up and left the school and their own children began to attend, perhaps they would point to the trees growing tall and strong in the schoolyard and say, “Miss Amsel helped us plant these. When I look at them, I remember her.”

“Miss Amsel?”

Lost in thought, it took Edythe a moment to realize the hushed voice and gentle tug at her skirt wasn’t a part of her daydream.

Robert Townsend crinkled his nose, dancing in place. “Miss Amsel, I need the outhouse.”

Edythe pointed to a thick stand of brush several yards down-river. “Go there.” The boy started to dash off, but she caught one of his suspenders. “Don’t go alone.”

Robert darted to the circle of children. He tugged Johnny away from the game. Robert whispered in his ear, and the boy trotted off alongside his brother without a fuss.

“Miss Amsel!” Andrew’s voice carried from the riverbank.

Edythe addressed Missy and Martha. “Keep an eye on the other children – I’ll be right back.” The girls nodded in reply, and Edythe lifted her skirts a bit and scurried to Andrew. He’d successfully uprooted one of the trees, so she soaked a length of burlap in the river. The water tugged at the heavy fabric, threatening to carry it away, but she held tight. With Andrew’s help, she wrapped the burlap around the broken tangle of roots and then set the tree in a bucket.

“Run up to the wagon and get a drink,” she instructed the red-faced, sweaty boy, “before you start digging the last tree.”

Just as Andrew trudged over the gentle rise leading to the picnic site, Lewis called for help. Edythe assisted him, excitement filling her at the sight of the two sturdy little trees standing upright in buckets. Wouldn’t they look lovely in the schoolyard? She put her arm around Lewis’s scrawny shoulders, which heaved from the morning’s work.

“Why don’t you go get a drink, Lewis, and rest a bit before you and Andrew dig the last tree?”

“Thank you, ma’am.” Wiping his brow, Lewis headed for the wagon.

Edythe caught the handle of the nearest bucket. She curled her other hand around the tree’s spindly trunk and lifted. The dirt-crusted root ball was heavier than she expected. Her skirts hindered her progress, and it took several minutes to carry the tree to the wagon. She set the bucket beside a rear wheel, where the tree could rest until it was time to return to the school.

Cupping one hand over her eyes, she observed the children. They now chased each other in a wild game of tag. Instinctively, she began counting noses. The task proved difficult, with the children darting here and there, but it appeared the group was smaller than it should be. Edythe called, “Missy?”

Her sister left the game and trotted to Edythe’s side. “Ready to set out the food?”

“Not yet.” Edythe continued to scan the group. “Someone’s missing.” A chill attacked when she realized whom she couldn’t find. “Robert and Johnny . . . haven’t they returned?” The boys had been gone longer than necessary for Robert to relieve himself.

Missy’s lips puckered. “We were so busy playin’, I didn’t notice they hadn’t come back.”

Edythe clutched Missy’s arm. “Missy, you – ” Before she could complete her instruction, wild crying carried from a distance. The children’s game abruptly stopped, their voices falling silent. They all turned toward the sound. Johnny stumbled toward them, his pants wet and muddy and his cheeks stained with tears. Edythe ran to meet him. “Where’s Robert?”

The boy buried his face against her gray shirtwaist. “He washed away. I couldn’t catch him.”

Edythe grabbed Johnny’s shoulders. “He’s in the river?” Fear made her voice shrill and angry.

“Wasn’t his fault – William pushed him!” He broke into fresh sobs.

Edythe shook her head, confused. “Johnny, William isn’t here.”

“He is! Robert had to go, an’ when he was goin’, we heard a puppy whimperin’. We went to find it, but it wasn’t a puppy – it was William in the bushes, makin’ the sound.” Johnny’s voice hiccupped as he told the tale. “Robert said he was gonna tell on him – he wasn’t s’posed to be here – an’ William said he’d had enough of the little teacher’s pet tattlin’ on him. He pushed Robert, an’ Robert fell in the water. Then William ran away. I . . . I tried to catch Robert, but I couldn’t.”

The boy fell against Edythe again, wailing brokenheartedly. “He’s drowned an’ it’s all my fault.”

Edythe transferred Johnny to Missy, then turned to Martha. “Get everyone in the wagon and drive to the mercantile for help. I’m going to look for Robert.”

“What about our picnic?” Josephine Ellsworth whined.

“What about the trees?” Lewis wrung his dirty hands.

“Later!” Edythe snapped out the word – who cared about picnics and trees when Robert’s life was endangered? “Hurry now, children!” Edythe lifted her skirts and ran.

Joel stepped out of the feed and seed, fingering the smooth handle of the new axe – a purchase he shouldn’t have had to make. He berated himself for breaking the old one. A careless swing while chopping wood for Miz Kinsley had splintered the ash handle. Lucky for him, the axe head had landed harmlessly on the ground, but it could’ve sliced his leg.

He sent up a silent prayer of gratitude to God for looking out for him when he wasn’t looking out for himself. His mind had been on other things – wedding plans. Sweat beaded across his forehead. Maribelle wanted to set a date in early June. She was eager to become his wife. He wished he felt as eager to become her husband.

He placed the axe in the back of his wagon and ambled to the front. As he prepared to heft himself onto the seat, the sound of pounding horses’ hooves caught his attention. Runaway team? He squinted against the midmorning sun. Miz Kinsley’s Gert thundered toward town. Miz Kinsley had said Miss Amsel borrowed the horse and wagon to take the kids on their picnic, but the schoolmarm should know better than to run a horse like that. Especially with a wagonful of youngsters.

He started to call out a warning, but then he realized Martha Sterbinz held the reins. Fear clutched him. Why wasn’t Miss Amsel driving the wagon? The wagon raced past him, and he took off after it. Martha drew Gert to a stop in front of the mercantile and leaped down. Joel captured her before she made it inside the store.

“Where’s your teacher?”

The girl wriggled loose. “Lemme go! I gotta get help!”

“Uncle Joel!”

Martha darted into the mercantile as Johnny launched himself from the back of the wagon and into Joel’s arms. The boy clung, blubbering out a story about a puppy, William Sholes, and Robert being swept away in the river’s current. Although Joel only caught half of it, he understood enough.

Wally and Mary Scheebeck stepped out of the mercantile. Wally waved his hand in the direction of the church. “Gonna go ring the bell, gather up some menfolk. Then we’ll head to the river.”

Mrs. Scheebeck moved to the edge of the wagon bed. “I’ll stay with the young’uns.”

Joel handed Johnny to Mrs. Scheebeck and searched the back of the wagon for Miss Amsel’s sister. “Missy, come with me – show me where you were picnicking.”

The girl scrambled out of the back. He grabbed her hand, and they ran to his wagon. He lifted her aboard before swinging himself up beside her. The girl clutched the wagon seat. Her knuckles glowed white, matching her pale, frightened face. Joel lifted the reins and barked out, “Don’t worry – everything’ll be fine.”

Missy didn’t look reassured. He repeated the statement to himself again and again as he drove the team toward the edge of town, planting imploring words in between.
Lord, let Robert be all right. Lord, don’t let anything happen to my boy. Lord, keep Robert – and Edythe – safe.

Chapter
THIRTY-EIGHT

“Robert! Robert!” Edythe screeched the child’s name until her throat felt raw. She fought her way through brambled shrubs and close-growing saplings. The hem of her dress dragged in the murky water along the river’s edge, weighing her down. But she battled forward, eyes seeking, ears strained for any cry for help, heart pounding, muscles aching. She must find him!

She scanned the turbulent water. As fast as the water moved, it may have carried Robert clear to the Missouri by now. Perhaps it had rolled him to the river’s bottom, where she’d never find him. “Robert. Oh, Robert . . .” Tears distorted her vision as she imagined the boy’s lifeless body lying cold and abandoned.

Helplessness washed over her, driving her to her knees. Her head hanging low, her shoulders heaving with exertion, Luthenia’s voice echoed through her mind –
“If you’d ever just lean into God’s strength instead of relyin’ on your own . . . why, you’d discover joy like you’ve never had before
.
”
At that moment, Edythe couldn’t imagine feeling joyful. Her throat ached; her heart constricted with fear and worry. A longing swept through her, as powerful as the rush of water rolling past, a longing to unload her worries and apprehensions and allow someone bigger and stronger to carry them.

On her hands and knees, she raised her face to the crystal blue sky above and choked out, “If You’re there, God, help me. I can’t find Robert, but You – You’re all-seeing. You know where he is. Hold him tight, God – keep him safe. Help me find him.” Her voice broke, and she squeezed her eyes tight. “Please, God . . .”

For several seconds she remained with her face upward, eyes closed, heart begging. She listened for a rumbling voice from Heaven. None came – only the river’s roar and the wind’s whisper filled her ears. Yet she didn’t crumple in despair. An odd sensation flooded her frame – a comforting warmth that began in the center of her chest and inched its way through her extremities.

With the warmth came a burst of strength and renewed energy. Edythe’s eyes popped open in surprise. “God, is that You?” Her heart pounded with a hope more intense than anything she’d experienced before. She pushed to her feet. Raising her face to the sky again, she cried, “Help me find him, God! Please!”

A frightened whimper reached her ears.

Edythe sucked in a startled breath. She stumbled in a circle, her gaze seeking. “Robert? Robert, is that you? Call again!”

A second whimpering cry, weaker than the first, came in response – somewhere ahead. Gasping with ragged breaths, she forged forward. Branches caught her hair and tore at her dress, but she ignored them, her heart beating out a steady prayer:
Help me find him; help me find him.
And there he was, on the opposite side of the river, a tiny figure on the bank.

She came to a stumbling halt, her body straining toward Robert, who lay facedown with his legs dangling in the water. The force of the current tugged at his pants, shifting his body by mere inches. She clutched her hands beneath her chin, fear once more taking her captive. The boy was exhausted. If he were pulled into the raging stream again, he wouldn’t be able to fight his way out.

Cupping her hand beside her mouth, she called, “Robert! Robert!”

The boy moaned, his head moving slightly.

“Crawl up the bank! Try, Robert – you have to try!”

He lay still and unresponsive.

Edythe paced on her side of the river, her mind racing. She had to get to him and pull him completely from the water. But how? She couldn’t walk across – thanks to last week’s rains, it was too deep. And the current would certainly pull her downstream. She groaned, “What can I do? Oh, help me, God! What can I do?”

Use the current
.

Although the words formed inside her head, Edythe jumped as if someone had shouted them in her ear. A simple directive, yet complete understanding accompanied it. Her limbs trembled as she scrambled upriver five yards, then ten. She spun and looked at Robert, his body so small and helpless. “Far enough?” She whispered the query aloud, contemplating, then decided it would do.

Gingerly, she stepped into the river. The water pulled hard, tugging at her skirt and nearly sending her onto her face. She cried out, “I’m putting myself in Your hands, God! Guide me safely to Robert!” And then she plunged into the uncontrolled current.

Missy pointed. “There’s our tree!”

Joel squinted ahead and spotted a bucket lying on its side with a small, shriveled sapling spilling out of it. He drew back sharply on the reins and called, “Whoa!”

The wagon rattled to a stop, and Joel leaped out of his seat. Instinctively, he reached under the wagon and snatched up the coil of rope that always rested there in case he needed to pull the wagon from a muddy rut. “Stay here,” he ordered Missy and then raced for the river’s bank.

He pushed his way along the bank, searching for any sign of Robert or Edythe. Muddy footprints, obviously made from a woman’s shoe, captured his attention. In the branches of a bush, he found a piece of gray fabric. The schoolmarm had come along here. He stumbled onward, calling, “Robert! Edythe! Robert!” His heart continued to pray even while he called their names.

The coil of rope on his shoulder caught branches, but he trudged on, his feet sinking in the soft mud along the bank and covering the prints left behind by Miss Amsel. Imagining Robert’s small body in the roiling water made him sick to his stomach.
Keep him safe, God. Keep ’em both safe.
“Robert! Edythe!”

“We’re here!”

He stopped, his body alert. His eyes darted everywhere, seeking, but the water’s roar prevented him from determining from which direction the cry came.

“Here! We’re over here!”

Several yards downriver, Joel finally spotted Miss Amsel seated on the opposite bank. She waved one hand in the air, cradling Robert’s limp body against her chest with the other. Joel broke into a stumbling run, stopping when he was directly across from her. Dropping the rope, he cupped his hands beside his mouth.

“Are you all right?”

“Wet and cold, but otherwise fine.” She looked down at Robert, then pulled him more firmly into her embrace. “He’s breathing, but his lips are blue. We need to get him to the doctor.”

Joel looked around, searching for the place where she had crossed. But he couldn’t spot a low area. “How’d you get over there?”

Even from this distance, he could make out an odd smile playing on her lips. “God carried me.”

“What?”

“I swam.”

Joel gaped in wonder. Against that current? In a skirt? Only a miracle would have kept the water from sweeping her downstream. Perhaps God had carried her. He scooped up his rope. “We’ll need a strong enough tree to hold this on both sides. If I toss one end to you, can you tie it off good?”

Gently, lovingly, she transferred Robert from her lap to the moist, mossy bank. She rose and moved several feet away from the boy. “Of course I can.”

Her confident spunk made him smile. He knotted one end of the rope around a good-sized tree. Then he dug under the brush for a short length of driftwood and tied the other end of the rope around it. He held the driftwood aloft. “This’ll hurt if it hits you, so be careful.” He gave the wood a heave. It landed near the water’s edge. Edythe darted forward and snatched it up before the water carried it away.

“Pull it as tight as you can,” he called. “Soon as it’s secure, I’ll come across.” He sat and yanked off his boots and socks. He placed his hat on top of the pile and stood on bare feet. The damp ground was cold, and he danced in place, waiting while Edythe tied the end of the rope around three close-growing saplings.

She raised her hand in triumph. “All done!”

The rope stretched a foot above the tumbling surface of the water. Joel gave it a tug – it seemed secure. He took hold of it with both hands and eased into the water. The cold stole his breath and made his teeth chatter. The water pulled at him, and his stomach churned. What fear Robert must have experienced while being swept helplessly downstream. He inched his way along the rope, just as he had the day of the snowstorm, working his way toward safety. How had Edythe done it on her own? He marveled at the risk she’d taken to reach Robert.

Finally, his knees connected with something solid, and he scrambled up the bank. Edythe sat holding Robert again. Joel sank down on one knee beside them and placed his hand on Robert’s head. The boy stirred, moaning. His eyes fluttered open and he looked around blearily. “Don’t let William push me again.” His voice sounded weak and croaky.

“Shh. He’s gone. You’re safe.” Edythe stroked Robert’s wet, tangled hair. “God kept you safe, dear one. Just rest.”

Looking into the schoolmarm’s serene face, Joel’s heart caught. Love glowed in her eyes. Love for the boy she held securely in her embrace, but another love – a new love – also lit her from within. Joel believed he knew its source. When had Edythe surrendered to God’s love?

She raised her gaze to Joel’s. Her normally precise bun sagged, little wisps straggling out in all directions. A lank strand of damp, dark hair hung along her jaw. In her wet, mud-splotched dress, she was a mess – and more beautiful than he’d ever seen her. Emotions welled upward, and to Joel’s surprise, the words
I love you
battled for release. “Edythe, I – ”

“Joel! Joel!” The noise of many pounding feet accompanied the call.

Joel lurched to his feet and waved both hands over his head. “Over here!”

Men burst out of the brush – half a dozen of them, all looking frantic.

“Everybody’s all right. We’re comin’ across now,” he assured the searchers. Then he hunkered beside Miss Amsel. His fingers itched to brush the hair from her face. Instead, he scooped Robert into his arms. “Can you hold to the rope an’ get yourself across?” He wanted to help her, but he couldn’t leave Robert unattended.

“I can do it.” She laughed softly. “I did it without a rope before, you know.” A sigh escaped her lips, and she seemed to slip away somewhere. “God does amazing things when we lean into His strength.”

Joel cleared his throat, regaining her attention. “It’ll mean another soaking, I’m afraid.”

Her smiled turned complacent. “A soaking is nothing. We’re fine – that’s all that matters.”

As Joel followed her to the water’s edge, a bitter thought flooded his mind. She and Robert might be fine, but he wasn’t. He’d run ahead of God, asking Maribelle Jenkins to be his wife instead of heeding the command to wait. As a result of his rashness, he might never be fine again.