Courting Miss Amsel (9 page)

Chapter
TEN

Edythe stomped onto Mrs. Kinsley’s porch, threw open the door, and then slammed it closed behind her with enough force to make the windows rattle. A startled gasp sounded from the doorway to the kitchen, and Edythe whirled to find Mrs. Kinsley staring at her with wide eyes, a damp cloth pressed to her chest.

“Land sakes, girl, you tryin’ to scare me outta my wits?”

Ignoring the rebuke, Edythe tromped to the kitchen table, dumped her armload of books, and then held up her fists. A growl escaped her throat. Her irritation increased when Mrs. Kinsley released a humorous chortle. She spun and charged for the stairway, but Mrs. Kinsley darted forward and caught her by the elbow. She planted her feet and glared at the older woman. Mrs. Kinsley laughed even harder.

“Mrs. Kinsley, I – ”

“Oh, forgive me, girl, but if you could’ve seen your face . . .” Mrs. Kinsley bent forward slightly, bracing one arm on her stomach. “Why, you were stormier than the thunderclouds rollin’ in the east. I wouldn’t think a pretty gal like you could look so fearsome.”

Edythe grunted in irritation. “I suppose I should be relieved
someone
is able to laugh. I certainly hope my meeting with Mr. and Mrs. Jeffers this evening is a pleasant one, or I may pack my bags and return to Omaha.”

All jollity fled at her comment. Mrs. Kinsley guided her to the kitchen table and pulled out a chair. “I’m not usually one to eat dessert before eatin’ dinner, but I’m thinkin’ you could use a little something sweet. I just took a peach cobbler from the oven. Let me dish us out some an’ you can tell me what has you so all-fired up.”

Edythe sat tight-lipped until Luthenia plunked a bowl of cobbler and a spoon in front of her. But the moment she jabbed the spoon through the crust into the moist peaches, her tongue loosed. “That boy will be the death of me yet!”

Mrs. Kinsley sank into her chair. “William Sholes again?”

“None other.” Edythe chewed vigorously, cinnamon exploding on her tongue. “I cannot understand why he takes such joy in creating conflict!” She waved her spoon in the air. “On Monday, he put a tack on Jane Heidrich’s chair and a dead gopher in Robert Townsend’s lunch pail. On Tuesday, he tied a rope around the outhouse while Patience Jeffers was inside. I had to saw through the rope with a pocketknife – it took me nearly half an hour – because poor little Patience completely panicked and pushed on the door so many times she tightened the knot beyond loosening.

“Wednesday, he not only dipped Mable Saltzmann’s braid in the inkwell
again
, he took all the identification cards I’d created for the skeleton diagram, wrote his own words on the backs, and reapplied them to the skeleton.” Heat flooded her face. “I found some of his choices quite repulsive.”

She paused long enough to take another bite of the cobbler before continuing. “And today he stuffed Lewis Scheebeck’s arithmetic assignment in the woodstove’s chimney. When Lewis cried, William called him a baby and tripped him when he tried to come tell me. Then he poured ink on Louisa Bride’s bench. If Sophie hadn’t spotted it, Louisa’s dress would certainly have been ruined.” Edythe shook her head, her shoulders drooping. “I’ve tried disciplining him – making him stay in from recess, stand in the corner, or write sentences – but as soon as his punishment is over, he’s misbehaving again.”

Mrs. Kinsley spoke around a bite of cobbler. “Sounds like you need to have a talk with his pa.”

Edythe blew out a noisy breath. “It won’t help. His father told me quite emphatically that it is
my
duty to make William behave when he’s at school. Mr. Sholes won’t involve himself in any discipline problems. And William knows it, so he thinks he can do as he pleases.” She poked at the remaining cobbler in her bowl. Defeat sagged her spine. “I want to teach, Mrs. Kinsley. It’s so important to me that the children
learn
. But William’s misbehavior interferes with everyone’s attentiveness. The children all watch him, waiting to see what he’s going to do next.”

“Miss Amsel . . .” Mrs. Kinsley sighed. “Y’know, I’m gettin’ a mite tired of always bein’ so formal. Can we stop the mizzin’ and missin’ an’ just go right to our given names? Feels a lot friendlier, to my way of thinkin’.”

Edythe looked at Mrs. Kinsley in surprise. “I think that’s fine.” A shy smile pulled at her lips. “It will be nice to feel as though we’re friends rather than merely landlady and boarder.”

Mrs. Kinsley gave the tabletop a light smack. “I agree. So from now on, I’m gonna call you Edythe, and you call me Luthenia.”

“What a lovely name . . . so unusual.”

Luthenia puffed with pride. “Ain’t it? I was named for my grandmother on my pa’s side. She raised my pa, him bein’ orphaned when he was knee high to a cricket. Always made me feel special, carryin’ her name since she was such a dear woman.” She spooned another bite of cobbler. “Is Edythe a family name?”

Edythe flicked bits of crust with her fingertip. “My pa’s name is Ed, so maybe that’s why Ma chose it. But Pa used to say it was too highfalutin’ for the daughter of a dirt-grubbing farmer. He called me Edie instead.”

“I think Edie’s a real sweet name.”

Edythe pursed her lips. “Not to me. The shortened version of my name – the way he said it – felt like an insult. I prefer Edythe.”

“Then Edythe it is.” Luthenia scooped up the bowls and spoons and dumped them on the dry sink. “But gettin’ back to William Sholes . . .”

Edythe groaned. “Must we?”

Luthenia propped one fist on her hip. “Yes, ma’am, we must.” She waved her hand in the direction of the backyard. “I’m still thinkin’ your best bet with that young’un is to march yourself out there, cut a good-sized twig from the cottonwood, an’ have it handy for the next time he misbehaves. He’s gonna keep a-pesterin’ until he has reason to stop it. So give him a reason right across the seat of his overalls.”

Sinking back into her chair, Luthenia took Edythe’s hand. “Listen, Edythe, I know you’re not wantin’ to be like old man Shanks an’ have the young’uns livin’ under a cloud of fear, but there’s times you gotta be firm with young’uns. Don’t you see William has taken charge of your classroom?
Your
classroom! You gotta get back in control, or the lesson the kids’ll be learnin’ isn’t one you want to teach.”

Edythe hung her head. “I know you’re right. But I made a promise to the entire class.” She raised her head, helplessness making her eyes sting. “When I broke that switch in half and threw it out the window, I instantly became a champion to seventeen children. Only one child has chosen to take advantage of the switch’s absence. But if I bring in a switch and use it on William, then I’ll feel as though I’m breaking my promise to all of the children. How can I expect them to trust anything I say if I go back on my word?”

Luthenia snorted. “I think most of them young’uns would cheer if they saw William gettin’ his just dues.”

“They might at that, but the elation would last only as long as the realization that they could be next. I won’t plant that worry in their hearts.”

Luthenia sighed. “As I’ve said before, you’re the schoolmarm, so you gotta decide what’s best. But if you refuse to use a switch, you better be thinkin’ of some other punishment that will work.”

A clap of thunder sounded, rattling the windows. Luthenia sprang to her feet. “I knew a storm was brewin’, but I didn’t expect it to sweep in so quick!” She slammed the kitchen window shut, then peered outside. “Why, look how gray it’s gotten . . . and still an hour ’til sunset.”

Edythe looked out the window, her pulse accelerating at the sight of the wind whipping the tree branches. Dry leaves danced wildly across the ground.

“You’re goin’ to the Jefferses’ tonight?” Luthenia said. “It’s only a short walk down the street, but the way that wind’s a-blowin’, it might just pick you up an’ plant you in the next county. I’m thinkin’ you’d be wise to stay put tonight.”

Edythe put her fingertips against the window, willing the wind to calm. “But Patience and Sophie will be so disappointed. Sophie told me today she’d helped her mother prepare a pumpkin cake.” Lightning flashed, followed by a resounding boom. Fat raindrops splatted the windowpanes.

“Is pumpkin cake worth gettin’ soaked to the bone?”

“It is if it was baked by a twelve-year-old girl who’s waited three weeks for her teacher to come to her house.”

Chuckling, Luthenia shook her head. “You are the most dedicated teacher I ever did see. Well, if you’re of a mind to go out in this, then – ”

Pounding interrupted, competing with another roll of thunder. Luthenia scowled. “Sounds like somebody else is silly enough to brave the storm.” She bustled to the front door and threw it wide. Mr. Jeffers stood on the porch with his hat in his hands, dripping wet. Luthenia stepped back and gestured to him. “August! Come on in here.”

The man shook his head, sending a little shower of raindrops across the porch. “No’m. I’ll get your floor all wet.” Cold wind gusted through the open doorway, carrying the scent of rain. “Won’t stay but a minute.” He looked past Luthenia to Edythe, who’d followed and stood behind Luthenia’s shoulder. “Teacher, the missus sent me to tell you not to come tonight. She worried you’d catch a chill.” He let out a mighty sneeze, then shrugged. “Figure she’s right to worry – sure is some rain!”

Edythe nodded. “Thank you for saving me the trip, Mr. Jeffers. Please send the girls my regrets. Perhaps, if the storm clears, I can come by tomorrow afternoon – say around three?”

“We’d be pleased to have you. Tomorrow, then, assumin’ the sun remembers how to shine.” He plopped his soggy hat into place, yanked his jacket collar tight around his neck, and strode from the porch. In moments, the gray sheet of rain swallowed his shadowy form.

Luthenia closed the door and released a sigh. “Can’t say

I’m not pleased to keep you in tonight. When it’s stormin’ like this, best place to be is snug inside a house.” She headed for the kitchen. Edythe trailed on her heels. “I’ll get that chicken to stewin’ now. We’ll have us a nice supper. You gonna take your books up to your room an’ work on next week’s lessons?”

Edythe nibbled her lower lip. “Would you mind if I sat here in the kitchen and worked? I appreciate having the table in my room, but it’s rather lonely up there by myself.”

Luthenia beamed. “I don’t mind at all! Nice to have company.” She waved her hands. “Sit. I’ll be real quiet, so I don’t disturb you.”

Edythe grinned and scooted up to the table. She opened the closest book and bent her head over the pages. Luthenia turned toward the stove, but as she began to ladle water into the waiting stew pot, something else banged on the front door – deep thumps, not sharp raps like a fist would create. “What’n thunder . . . who else’d be callin’ in this storm?”
Thump, thump, thump!
Luthenia frowned. “They’re tryin’ to break the door down!” She bustled through the parlor.

Edythe, curious and concerned, rose and followed Luthenia. The woman flung the door wide. August Jeffers stood on the front porch again. His arms were filled with the limp, bedraggled form of a young girl.

Edythe gasped. She pushed past Luthenia to grab August’s coat sleeves and drag him over the threshold. She cupped the pale, rain-streaked face of the girl and cried out, “Missy!”

Chapter
ELEVEN

“Uncle Joel, make it stop!”

Joel set aside the
Farmers’ Almanac
he’d been reading and opened his arms. Robert dashed across the floor, his nightshirt flapping, and burrowed against Joel’s chest. Although fearless to the point of foolhardiness at times, the one thing Robert couldn’t abide was a thunderstorm. The wind, rain, and claps of thunder sent the boy into spasms of fear. Joel suspected Robert’s reaction related to the night the boys lost their ma and pa – the local sheriff had indicated the boys spent a stormy night alone after their folks’ horses got spooked by lightning and overturned the wagon.

Joel understood why Robert shook in terror. But understanding the fear didn’t tell him how to heal it. He rubbed his hand up and down Robert’s quivering back, his heart twisting in sympathy. “Shh, boy. Remember? It’s just noise – that’s all. The clouds are bumpin’ into each other. The boom can’t hurt you.”

Robert wriggled his face into the curve of Joel’s neck. His fingers clung to Joel’s shirt. “But I don’t like it. I want it to stop.”

Johnny stepped into the doorway of the boys’ room, rubbing his eyes. He cringed when thunder crashed overhead. “Is Robert okay?”

Even though only thirteen months separated the boys, at times Johnny seemed years older than Robert, the way he looked after his brother. Joel said, “He’ll be all right. Thunder’s got him spooked.”

Johnny nodded wisely. He pattered across the floor and touched Robert’s back. “Wanna sleep in my bed, Robert? I’ll read to you from
Aesop’s Fables
, if Uncle Joel’ll let me light the lamp.”

Joel gave Robert a gentle shake. “You hear that, Robert? Johnny’ll read to you – would’ja like that?”

Slowly, Robert lifted his face and looked at his brother. He held his lower lip between his teeth. Tears stained his pudgy cheeks. Joel’d never seen such a look of uncertainty.
Crash!
Boom!
Robert curled into a ball and huddled in Joel’s lap, clinging hard.

Joel patted Robert’s back again. “Johnny, go get the storybook and bring it out here. I’ll read to both of you.”

Johnny scampered to obey. Joel rocked his nephew while a silent prayer rose from his heart.
Lord, let this storm blow out fast.
An’ help me find a way to ease this boy’s fear of storms. Gonna be lots of them in his life – best he learns to see ’em through instead of hidin’ from them.

“I’ll go fetch Dr. Seilstad.” Mr. Jeffers deposited Missy on the parlor settee. “Looks like she’s gonna need him.” He dashed back out into the storm.

Edythe sank to her knees beside the settee and stroked Missy’s pale cheeks. Tears rained down her own face. The girl’s disheveled appearance suggested she must have walked the hundred miles between Omaha and Walnut Hill. Agony born of guilt twisted Edythe’s heart. How many days had Missy been on the road, all alone, trying to reach her sister? Had she eaten during her days of travel? What if Mr. Jeffers hadn’t found her? A sob wracked Edythe’s body and she pressed her fist to her mouth. If her sister died, it would be all her fault.

Warm hands curled around her shoulders and tugged her aside. “Let’s get this girl out of those wet clothes. I got a nightgown here.” Luthenia held up a voluminous flannel gown. “It’ll swallow her, but it’s a heap better’n that soggy dress she’s wearin’. Figure the doc would want us to get her dry an’ warm.”

Edythe assisted her landlady in stripping Missy of her rain-soaked dress and underthings. Using a rough length of toweling, she rubbed her sister’s cold limbs before holding her upright so Luthenia could tug the gown over her head. As a baby, Missy had always fought Edythe’s hands when she changed her diaper or buttoned her into a tiny frock. To see her lying so still and unresponsive, unaware of their ministrations, brought a fresh rush of tears to Edythe’s eyes. It seemed all the life had drained from the girl.

“I’ll get these to soakin’ in the washtub.” Luthenia carted the wet clothes away.

Edythe tucked a quilt around Missy’s frame and then sat on the edge of the settee and smoothed her sister’s tangled hair away from her face. Rain continued to lash the house, driven by furious gusts of wind. Flashes of lightning lit the room, followed by rolls of thunder. Edythe shivered, imagining Missy slogging through the storm, determined to reach shelter.

Luthenia returned with a cup of something hot and steamy held between her palms. “Chamomile tea with honey. See if you can get her to swallow some of this. It’ll warm her innards.”

Edythe propped Missy against a pile of pillows and poured a scant spoonful of tea between her slack lips. The first spoonful dribbled down Missy’s chin, but mercifully her lips closed and her throat convulsed with the second spoonful. Heartened by the small success, Edythe tipped another spoonful into Missy’s mouth. At the third swallow, her eyelids fluttered and she grimaced.

Edythe jerked backward, protecting the cup of tea, as Missy’s hands flew outward. Her eyes opened and she looked around in confusion. Then her gaze settled on Edythe. “I found you.” Her voice sounded croaky and raw.

Edythe passed the cup to Luthenia and gathered Missy in her arms. “You found me.” She pressed her cheek to Missy’s damp, tangled locks. For long seconds, she rocked her the same way she had when Missy was a colicky baby, relief making her bones feel like rubber.

Missy planted her hands against Edythe’s shoulders and pushed. Although it was a weak gesture absent of any real force, Edythe instinctively released her sister. Missy collapsed against the pillows and glared at Edythe. “Why’d you leave me in Omaha?” Resentment laced Missy’s tone.

Edythe gulped. “I – ” Before she could finish, the sound of feet stomping onto the porch intruded.

“Must be the doc.” Luthenia threw open the door and waved the young doctor into the house. She pointed to the sofa. “Your patient’s right there – just now woke an’ started talkin’.”

Edythe scuttled aside and watched Dr. Seilstad take her place on the edge of the settee. He felt Missy’s forehead, peeked down her throat, poked her chin and neck, and listened through a tube placed against her chest. Missy sat quiet and stiff throughout his inspection.

The doctor gave a brusque nod. “Lungs sound clear . . . that’s good. But she’s got a high fever.” Snapping open the black leather satchel that rested beside his feet, he rustled around inside the bag and withdrew a brown glass bottle. He handed it to Luthenia. “One tablespoon twice a day. Keep her warm and make sure she drinks – tea is good. Could add a touch of whiskey, if you’ve got it in the house.”

Luthenia frowned. “I do not.”

Dr. Seilstad shrugged. “Then put lots of honey in the tea. Make her stay down for the next few days ’til she regains her strength.” He clicked the latch on his bag and rose, his attention still aimed at Luthenia. “I’ll come back Monday morning and check on her.”

Edythe stepped forward. “Thank you, Doctor. I appreciate your coming out in the storm to see to my sister’s needs.”

The doctor nodded. “If she gets worse over the weekend, have someone fetch me.” He tugged his collar up around his jaw, lifted his bag, and headed for the door. The moment the door closed behind him, Missy tossed aside the quilt and swung her feet to the floor. She rose, but then she swayed and tilted forward. Edythe caught her and lowered her back onto the settee.

Luthenia hovered near, her face twisted into a scowl of concern. “What’re you doin’, young lady? Didn’t you hear the doc say you were to stay down?”

“I heard.” Missy’s voice, although weak and raspy, carried a strong thread of defiance. She aimed an accusing glare at Edythe. “Took me a full week to get here. Come near to walkin’ the soles off my shoes. I want to know – why didn’t you take me with you when you left?” Her voice broke and she coughed, her face contorting.

Edythe sat beside Missy and curled her arm around her sister’s waist. Through the thick folds of flannel, she could feel Missy’s ribs. Remorse stabbed. When the coughing spell passed, she gave Missy a gentle hug. “I didn’t want to leave you. But I didn’t think I’d be able to take care of you
and
do my job as schoolmarm. I thought you’d be better off with Justus and Eulah.”

Missy pushed Edythe’s arm away. “So you’d rather teach a bunch of kids you don’t even know than be with me?”

Luthenia stepped forward. “Seems to me we’d be wise to follow the doc’s instructions an’ let Missy rest.” She tipped her head, her forehead crinkling. “Sounds like the storm’s finally blowin’ itself out, so you oughtta be able to sleep easy.” She held up the half-empty cup. “I’ll fetch a fresh cup for you to sip, Missy, an’ then you’d best get some sleep.”

Edythe gently eased Missy against the pillows and tucked the quilt around her again. “Luthenia is right. We’ll have lots of time to talk over the weekend. For now, you should rest.”

To Edythe’s relief, Missy didn’t argue. She nestled against the pillows, and her eyes slipped closed. Luthenia caught Edythe’s elbow and drew her into the kitchen. She bustled to the stove and began filling the little silver strainer with crumpled leaves to brew a fresh cup of tea.

“Well, if this ain’t the surprise to beat all surprises, havin’ your sister just show up. An’ in the middle of a storm to boot!” The older woman shook her head.

Edythe couldn’t determine by Luthenia’s tone if she was upset to have an unexpected overnight guest or merely concerned. She clasped her hands together and stared at her entwined fingers. “I never considered that she might walk from Omaha to Walnut Hill. Missy possesses the impetuosity of the young, but she’s never been so recklessly bold.”

One eyebrow raised high, Luthenia twisted her lips into a thoughtful frown. “She went to a heap of trouble to avoid bein’ with her pa. Is there a sound reason for that?”

Edythe wasn’t certain how to answer. She couldn’t honestly say her father was abusive. He’d never raised a hand to any of his children – he was too lazy even for that. But his perpetual melancholy, his whining insistence that the world was out to get him, wore away any semblance of happiness or hope. Pa didn’t inflict bruises; he destroyed his children’s spirits.

“I . . . I suppose there were reasons.” Swallowing the lump of sadness that filled her throat, Edythe sank into a kitchen chair. “I should have waited until Missy was grown before I left.”

Luthenia turned from the stove and gave Edythe’s shoulder a pat. “No sense in findin’ fault – not with yourself nor anybody else. It’s done – she’s here. We’ll just have to make the most of it, I reckon.”

Edythe jerked her face upward to meet her landlady’s gaze. “You mean . . . you don’t mind that she’s here?”

Luthenia bounced the slotted, silver-plated ball in the steaming water a few more times and then set it aside. “When I opened my house to you I wasn’t plannin’ on someone else joinin’ us, but how much trouble can one young’un be?” Picking up the teacup, she smiled brightly. “I raised boys, y’know. Might be fun havin’ a girl livenin’ things up around here.”

“And you might be biting off more than you can chew.” Edythe cringed. “My sister can be . . . unpredictable.”

Luthenia grinned. “Might’ve only raised boys, but I’ve been around the young ladies of Walnut Hill enough to know that girls her age are giggly. Sometimes moody.”

Edythe released a tired chuckle. Perhaps Luthenia did know what she was getting herself into.

“Even so, she’s welcome to stay.” Luthenia held the cup high. “Best get this to Missy before it cools an’ she drifts full off to sleep. From the looks of her, she needs a little somethin’ in her belly – the girl’s vine thin.” She gave Edythe’s cheek a quick caress. “Don’t worry, now. Go get into your nightclothes. I’ll sit with your sister ’til you come back down.”