Courting Miss Amsel (6 page)

“How much sugar was Miz Kinsley wantin’?” Mr. Scheebeck asked.

“A pound, please.” As Edythe waited for the storekeeper to measure the sugar, a little head bearing blond pigtails peeked around from the doorway at the back of the store. Edythe smiled. “Hello, Jenny. How are you today?”

The little girl stepped into the doorway. “Lewis got in trouble.”

Edythe stifled a chuckle. Why did children relish tattling?

Mr. Scheebeck formed a cone with paper. “Go on back upstairs, Jenny. Don’t be pesterin’ Miss Amsel.”

Jenny slipped away. Edythe felt the need to defend the child. “She wasn’t bothering me. I enjoy talking with her. Jenny’s a delight.”

The mercantile owner shrugged. “She can be a talker – like her ma, I reckon. Sayin’ things that’re better left unsaid.”

According to Mrs. Kinsley, Mr. Scheebeck was the main news spreader in town. “I’ve never heard her say anything inappropriate.” Although Jenny no longer cried, she sat very quietly in class, taking everything in with wide blue eyes but saying very little even in response to questions. Edythe hoped the little girl would eventually lose her shyness.

Mr. Scheebeck rolled the top of the cone and handed the container of sugar across the counter. “What she said just now – about Lewis bein’ in trouble? He is, but that ain’t none of your affair. Besides, he didn’t cause it all himself. He had help.” The man snorted. “That Sholes boy better not come into my store again anytime soon. I’ll take the broom an’ chase him out again.”

The fine hairs on Edythe’s neck prickled. “William?”

“I’m not sayin’ nothin’ more,” the man declared. “But this prank went too far. Fun is fun, but somebody gettin’ hurt? That ain’t fun.”

Although she knew she shouldn’t encourage gossip, Edythe couldn’t resist asking, “Someone was hurt?”

Mr. Scheebeck waved his hand. “Nah, but someone sure could’ve been. No, sir, that boy’s not welcome here anymore.” The man slapped his hand to his forehead. “Oh, I nearly forgot . . .” He bustled over to the post office corner and disappeared behind the partition. When he emerged a few moments later, he wore his postmaster hat and held an envelope in his hand. “Should’ve thought of this when you bought the stamp. Letter come for you on the mornin’ stage.”

Edythe took it. “Thank you.”

“I’ll be gettin’ you a cubby set up to hold your mail – just haven’t had time yet.” His shoulders lifted and fell. “Runnin’ this store, bein’ the telegrapher,
an’
handlin’ postmaster duties is a mighty big job at times. The missus has been feelin’ poorly, so she isn’t able to help much these days.”

Edythe fingered the envelope, eager to look at the contents. “I’m sorry your wife isn’t well. Nothing serious, I hope?”

“She’s in a family way,” the man whispered. “Baby’s due end of the year. So she’s takin’ it easy.”

“Congratulations.” Edythe inched toward the door, her envelope in one hand and Mrs. Kinsley’s items in the other. “Have a pleasant day, Mr. Scheebeck.”

“Bye, now.”

Edythe stepped out onto the street and turned toward Mrs. Kinsley’s house. Tucking the cone of sugar and Mrs. Kinsley’s mail in the crook of her arm, she opened her envelope and lifted out a single sheet of paper. As she read, her feet slowed until she came to a stop in the middle of the walkway next to a picket fence. She sagged against the fence, crushing the letter to her aching chest. She might as well ask Mr. Scheebeck to discard the letter she’d sent to Missy. She was too late.

Chapter
SIX

Joel bowed his head and closed his eyes as the minister said the final prayer. Robert fidgeted on the pew beside him, and he nudged the boy with his elbow. The restless movement stopped. At Reverend Coker’s “Amen,” Robert bounced to his feet with a frantic look. “I need the outhouse.”

“Then go.”

The boy raced out, weaving his way around other parishioners who loitered in the wide aisle that separated the rows of wooden benches. Joel shook his head. He supposed he shouldn’t scold, given the circumstances, but he’d need to remind Robert to say excuse me when he pushed between folks.

He shifted his attention to Johnny, who waited for permission to run out to the yard with the other kids. Before he could grant it, however, Hank Libolt sidled up beside Joel. “Hey.”

“Morning, Hank.” Joel gave a nod toward the doors, and Johnny grinned and headed outside. Joel turned to his neighbor. “Nice day for the end of September, isn’t it? I keep thinkin’ this warm weather’s going to come to an end and bring the snows, but so far it’s held.”

“Yup.” Hank frowned toward the cluster of women at the back of the church. “I see all the ladies are welcomin’ our new schoolmarm.”

A rush of heat attacked Joel’s neck at the mention of Edythe Amsel. After their brief encounter yesterday, he’d been unable to put the woman out of his mind. Her kind attention to his boys made him envision her being more than their teacher. The idea was silly considering she was clearly a big-city gal, but he couldn’t seem to set the thought aside. He needed to do a heap of praying to find out whether this interest was God’s idea or his own.

“I’m not too sure what to think of her,” Hank continued, his voice low. “She appears well-mannered and proper. But I’ve heard tell of some strange goings-on in that schoolhouse.”

“What do you mean?” Neither Johnny nor Robert had mentioned anything odd, and the boys usually told him everything about their day.

“For instance, Wolcott drove by the school one afternoon, an’ the kids were all outside peckin’ around in the dirt like a flock of chickens. He thought maybe one of ’em had lost something important, but no – when I asked my Henry, he said they was all huntin’ bugs.” Hank’s eyes nearly bugged from his head. “Then they pinned the bugs to a piece of wood an’ spent time countin’ their legs, comparin’ their colors, an’ just studyin’ ’em.
Bugs!
Who heard tell of using schooltime for something like that?”

Johnny and Robert had come home excited about knowing which bugs were harmful to crops and which they needed to leave alone so they could eat the harmful bugs. Joel started to tell Hank his boys’ feelings on the activity, but Hank went on.

“An’ that’s just starters. She also had ’em all out of a mornin’, stepping through a spider web made out of ropes on the play yard. Still haven’t figured out what that was all about. Henry told me, but it didn’t make much sense to me.” Hank shook his head. “I’m wonderin’ if we made a mistake bringin’ in a lady teacher fresh from teachin’ school. Maybe we should’ve kept old man Shanks. He could be cranky, but I never worried about what he was teachin’ my young’uns.”

Joel clapped Hank’s shoulder. “I reckon we got used to Mr. Shanks and his ways. But every teacher has his or her own way of teachin’, just like every farmer has his own way of farmin’.” Hank was one of the men who had told Joel he was addlepated for digging irrigation ditches and letting some of his soil rest each year rather than planting every acre. “I say give her a chance. The children sure seem to like her.”

“Oh, I’ll grant you that. All three o’ mine think she’s dandy. ’Specially Will – he’d been pretty scared about startin’ school. But now he’s all excited about goin’.”

Hank had just described Robert’s feelings, too. Joel looked across the small worship room to Miss Amsel, who stood with her head tipped and an attentive smile on her face while Miz Saltzmann yakked away. That woman’s never-ceasing blather could try the patience of Job, but Miss Amsel didn’t appear at all annoyed. Apparently her kind ways extended beyond the children, and she grew more appealing to Joel by the minute.

He jerked his attention to Hank again. “I think we oughtta just leave her be an’ let her teach. I thought Shanks was rough on the kids, but we let him do his job his way. Shouldn’t we give Miss Amsel the same consideration, at least for now?”

Hank ducked his head and toed the floor. “I reckon you’re right, Joel. But . . .” He glanced at the teacher, his brows low. “When she comes callin’ at my house this week, I plan to ask her about some of those peculiar goings-on. I’m on the town council, you know, an’ it’s part of my job to make sure our youngsters are gettin’ the right kind of learnin’.”

Edythe felt like a honeysuckle vine swarmed by bees. She smiled and answered the womenfolk’s questions politely, but inwardly she hoped for rescue. And rescue eventually arrived in the form of Mrs. Kinsley, who charged into the group and took hold of Edythe’s elbow.

“ ’Scuse my interruptin’,” the woman said, “but Miss Amsel will be makin’ the rounds to your houses, where you can talk to your heart’s content. We gotta be gettin’ home now.” Luthenia sent a no-nonsense look around the circle of disappointed faces. “Have a blessed Lord’s day, ladies.” She tugged Edythe away from the group.

On the wagon seat, Edythe heaved a relieved sigh. “Thank you. I wondered how I would make my escape. The ladies asked question after question, but” – she crinkled her brow – “none related to teaching. They were all very . . . personal.”

Mrs. Kinsley chuckled. “They’re searchin’ for somethin’ good they can share around the quiltin’ frame or at Ladies’ Mission Society.”

Edythe frowned. “It’s rather disheartening to think their friendliness holds ulterior motives.”

“Now, don’t be thinkin’ ill of the whole town ’cause of what I said. They’re not so much malicious as curious.” Mrs. Kinsley gave the reins a gentle pull, guiding the horse around a sizable pothole in the street. “Town council needs to get those potholes filled – a body could be jarred clean off the seat if a wagon wheel clunked through one.” She whisked a quick glance at Edythe. “Y’see, not much exciting happens in Walnut Hill, so a new person in town makes a mighty big stir. Just mind what you say, knowin’ it’ll all be repeated.”

Edythe sat in silence, digesting Mrs. Kinsley’s advice the rest of the way home. Mrs. Kinsley drew the wagon behind the house and called, “Whoa there, Gertie.” The old mare sagged her head, as if happy to be allowed to stop. Mrs. Kinsley set the brake, then turned to Edythe. “I’m gonna put this old girl in her shed an’ then I’ll be in to set lunch on the table. If the roast smells burnt, get it out of the oven, would’ja? We don’t want to be eatin’ burnt offerings.”

Edythe nodded. “I’ll certainly see to the roast, and I’ll set the table so it will be ready when you return.” She swept her skirts to the side to avoid catching them on the wheel hub as she climbed down from the wagon. Then she hurried into the house, the enticing aroma of meat spurring her forward.

Just as she removed the roasting pan from the oven, someone tapped on the front door. She dashed to the door and threw it wide. To her surprise, she found Mr. Townsend, Johnny, and Robert on the porch. The boys beamed.

“Hi, Miss Amsel! We come for our cookies.”

Edythe blinked twice, confused. “Cookies?”

Mr. Townsend looked past her shoulder, as if seeking someone. “Where’s Miz Kinsley?”

“Out back with the mare. I shall retrieve her, and – ”

Suddenly, Mrs. Kinsley bustled into the room, waving her hand to the little group on the porch. “Bet you’re here for them cookies I promised the boys. I been carin’ for Gert an’ haven’t got ’em wrapped yet. I gotta wash my hands.” She whirled toward the washbasin. “Miss Amsel, entertain them fellas for me.”

Entertain them? How? She gulped and faced the little group. Heat flooded her face. They stood in a quiet circle, examining one another in silence. When Mrs. Kinsley bustled back into the room with a brown-paper-wrapped package in hand, Edythe slunk out of the way, relieved to allow the other woman control of the situation.

“There you go, boys. Fresh-baked yesterday, so they’re still nice an’ moist.”

The pair of towheaded, freckle-faced youngsters reached eagerly for the package. “Thank you!” Robert sniffed the air. “Mmm, smells good in here. What is that?”

Mrs. Kinsley laughed. “Roast, taters, and carrots. What’re you havin’ for lunch today, Robert?”

Robert wrinkled his nose. Three freckles disappeared in a crease. “Beans.”

Mr. Townsend gave the boy a slight nudge on the shoulder, frowning. “There’s nothin’ wrong with beans.” He released an embarrassed chuckle. “We probably do eat a lot of ’em. They don’t need much tendin’ while they simmer, so it’s an easy thing for me to cook.”

Mrs. Kinsley gestured to the kitchen. “Well, if you think those beans’ll keep a mite longer, you’re welcome to stay. I made plenty – can’t seem to get over my habit of cookin’ a big meal, even though Cyrus has been gone over three years now. Why don’t you an’ the boys sit at the table with Miss Amsel an’ me? We can set out extra plates quick as the shake of a lamb’s tail.”

Joel’s neck blotched red. “I appreciate the invitation, but the beans’ll be boiled down to a mess if we don’t get back soon.” Robert and Johnny groaned, but their uncle’s frown stilled their protests. He put a hand on each boy’s shoulder and turned them toward the door. “You ladies have a good day. Boys, tell Miz Kinsley and Miss . . . Miss Amsel bye now.”

The stammer surprised Edythe. Did he feel ill at ease around her?

“Bye, Miz Kinsley. Bye, Miss Amsel.” The childish voices held no enthusiasm.

Mrs. Kinsley followed them to the porch and waved as they climbed into their wagon. “You enjoy them cookies now, you hear?”

When the wagon rolled away, Mrs. Kinsley hurried back in and closed the door. “Well, let’s get set down to eat before – ” She paused, looking fully at Edythe. “What’s wrong?”

Edythe wrung her hands. “Mr. Townsend . . . he . . . he isn’t married?”

“Land sakes no. What gave you that idea?”

“He was at the mercantile yesterday purchasing a canning kettle. I just assumed . . .”

Mrs. Kinsley tipped her head. “Joel Townsend’s never been married. I heard speculation that – ” She clamped her lips together.

Edythe’s senses went on alert. “What?”

“Never you mind. The Bible advises against spoutin’ gossip. I might listen in when others’re talkin’, but I won’t be guilty of spreading falsehoods.” Mrs. Kinsley sighed. “Joel’s alone, raisin’ his deceased brother’s sons. I got great admiration for him. To my way of thinkin’, anybody who’d take care of somebody else’s young’uns deserves a big crown when they reach Heaven.”

Edythe’s nose stung fiercely. Then, much to her chagrin, she burst into tears.