Faith (16 page)

Biting her bottom lip, Faith moderated her tone, "My
family always shared conversation at the dinner table-"

"Well, this isn't dinner," Liza said.

"I'm going to teach Adam to read. " There. She'd said it.
Faith waited for the explosion.

To her relief, none was forthcoming. Liza's mouth
dropped open; Nicholas simply eyed her with curiosity.

She could see they both clearly thought she had lost her
mind.

"In all my born days-are you addled? Dan's boy is
blind." Liza shook her head. "How do you propose to teach
a blind child to read?"

Faith blushed. "I'm going to learn Braille and then-"

"Braille? Those dot things?" Liza shook her head again.
"Doesn't make a bit of difference what you learn, you can't
open that boy's eyes."

"By using Braille, Mother Shepherd, Adam can learn to
read. And not just Dan's son, others can too."

"What others? I don't know any others."

"Maybe not in Deliverance. But there are undoubtedly
many in Texas, and once the blind school-"

Nicholas interrupted. "Are you saying a blind child can be
taught to read?"

"Yes," Faith said proudly. "And taught many other
things. Learning to read is only the beginning."

Liza looked faint, sitting back in her chair to fan herself.

"You call this method Braille?" Nicholas asked.

"Yes, Braille."

"And how is it you seem to know-"

It was all the encouragement Faith needed. Sliding to the
edge of her chair, she explained. "Grandpapa was born in
Coupvray, near Paris. As children, he and Louis Braille
played together in the village. When Mr. Braille was very
small, he was blinded in an accident."

She was pleased to see that Nicholas was listening closely.
She relayed the story of Louis and how he had developed
the Braille system.

"Grandpapa took great pleasure in telling of his boyhood
friendship with Louis. As the years passed, they didn't spend
as much time together, but they continued to correspond
with each other. They did so until Mr. Braille died in '52."

"If this Mr. Braille was blind, how was he able to teach
others like him?"

"Blind leading the blind," Liza muttered.

"Mother." Nicholas sent her a censuring look.

"No-she's right, Nicholas. In a sense, that's exactly what
happened."

"How did Louis Braille teach blind children to make
sense of a bunch of dots on a piece of cardboard?" Liza
exclaimed.

Faith was more than happy to tell her. "It only took Louis
five years to develop the system. From what I've read in
journals, Mr. Braille created his dot system using six dots.
From sixty-three possible arrangements of the dots, he
devised an entire alphabet, punctuation marks, numerals,
and later even a means for writing music!"

Faith knew Liza would never admit to it, but even her
curiosity was obviously kindled. "From a bunch of dots?"

"Not just dots. Each letter, numeral, or punctuation mark
is indicated by the number and arrangement of one to six
dots in a cell, or letter space, two dots wide and three dots
high."

Liza's skepticism returned. "Dots, spots, or knots! The
blind can't see to read them."

"That's true. But Braille books are pressed from metal
plates. The sightless read Braille by feel-running their fingers over the dots."

"I think you were out in the sun too long yesterday." Liza
reached for a second biscuit. "And just how far will running
fingers over a bunch of dots help that poor Walters boy?"

"Plenty," Faith defended herself. "Louis Braille was an
outstanding student, excelling in science and music. In fact,
he became famous in Paris as an organist and as a violoncellist. Not to mention a church organist."

Liza's eyes softened with respect. "He learned to play
organ in the church?"

Faith nodded. "Yes, and other blind children can be
taught to do the same, and more."

Nicholas studied her. "But you said you'd need to learn
this Braille?"

"My, Yes. Coupvray was long before my time. When
Mother was a baby, her parents immigrated to this country.
I was born in Michigan. Grandpapa used to tell us stories
about Louis Braille. I was always fascinated by Grandpapa's
good friend and paid attention to every detail. But I've
never had access to a Braille book. I intend to exhaust every
opportunity to find one. With Jeremiah's help, I know I can
learn."

"Jeremiah! What could that old coot know about
Braille?" Liza snapped.

"I don't know-but I have a feeling he knows more than
he's saying. He's promised to do all he can to help me."

Liza cleaned her plate and pushed back from the table.
"Helping little Adam Walters is one thing, but a blind
school-that's a horse of a different color."

"Blind children should have the same advantages as
sighted children."

"An entire school for one blind child? That's nonsense."

"The school wouldn't be just for Adam. We could invite
others."

Nicholas laid his fork aside. "You know, Mama, there are
some other blind people I know about. What about Greg ory Hillman, and that Bittle girl? Are you thinking you'd
teach children and adults, Faith?"

"Yes, children and adults!"

"Nonsense! A school costs money, money the town
doesn't have. Nicholas, talk some sense into her."

After a moment's thought, Nicholas said, "A blind school
makes more sense than a steeple. You would need a building-I suppose we could look into the Smith place."

Faith could barely contain her excitement. "The Smith
place?"

"It's been abandoned for years and getting to be an eyesore. It could serve as a school," Nicholas conceded. "The
old schoolhouse has plenty of room. Until the blind school
has enough pupils to keep you busy, perhaps the school can
be used not only for the children but, if you're willing, also
for teaching adults who don't know how to read. Lord
knows, there's enough men and women around here who
can't read a thing." He smiled. "I think your idea is sound,
Faith."

Liza was predictably quick to spoil the mood. "And who's
going to pay for cleaning up that eyesore, not to mention
acquiring the property?"

Faith glanced to Nicholas for support. "Wouldn't the
town help-?"

Liza cut in. "Help, help, help. That's all I ever hear. Why
is it when people holler help, what they really mean is
money! Why don't they just come right out and say what
they mean? Money. You know why. Because a fool and his
money are soon parted."

Faith was sorely tempted to stand up and fight for her
cause, but she declined. Papa said you shouldn't kill a fly
on a friend's head using a hatchet, and though Liza wasn't
exactly a friend, she did control the Shepherd purse strings.

Faith allowed the subject to drop. But she wasn't about
to forget it. If she could teach Adam and others like him to
read, that's what she was going to do. The Lord had laid the
mission on her heart, and she gladly accepted it.

When breakfast was over, Nicholas excused himself and
left the house. Faith knew he was getting ready for the
upcoming cattle drive. For the first time she resented Liza
for having such a hold on her son, and Nicholas more, for
allowing it. She'd had Nicholas on her side until Liza threw
on the wet blanket.

"The morning's near spent," Liza said, clearing the table.
"We have chores."

Faith reached for an apron. "I'll feed the chickens."

"Don't stay out there all day."

"No, ma'am. I won't."

Faith barely finished sprinkling feed in the chicken coop
when Liza rounded the corner. Her unexpected visit startled
Faith. The hens set to cackling and flapping their wings.
Faith snickered, thinking how Liza could intimidate even
the least of God's creatures.

"It's butchering time. There's pig's feet waiting to be put
up," Liza informed her. "I need your help in the kitchen."

Pig's feet. Faith's heart sank. That would take all day. She
hated pig's feet. The mere sight of those boney-looking
hoofy paws made her sick.

"Yes, ma'am." She set aside the feed bag, latched the
weathered gate, and followed Liza into the house.

As she entered the kitchen, she tried not to look at the
huge pan of feet. Jars lined the counter. Did Liza intend to
feed an army? She would be stuck in this kitchen forever.

Liza sat down across from Faith at the table, and the two
women set to work.

Faith stuffed pig's feet into jars until her fingers ached.
Still, her pan was half full. Liza finished her share with
remarkable speed.

She eyed Faith's pan, sighing with impatience. "I'll wash
more jars. You fetch more water."

Faith drew two buckets of water from the open well and
hurried back inside. Though her heart wasn't in it, she
knew the harder she worked, the quicker she could escape
the kitchen and those hateful feet.

Liza washed and dried the remaining canning jars. Stuffing
the last foot into a jar around noon, Faith drew a sigh of
relief. Her fingers ached, not to mention her sore back.

It took both women to carry the cumbersome load to the
stove.

As the water started to boil, Liza picked up a basket of
dirty laundry. "I'll be doing wash. Don't let the pan boil

"Yes, ma'am."

Faith was amazed how quickly her enthusiasm rekindled
about the school for the blind. She would just explode if she
didn't tell someone.

Hope and June. They were happily married now, without all the problems she faced; still, they would understand her
excitement about the school.

Her sisters would be delighted to hear of her grand adventure. Faith glanced at the pot of boiling pig's feet. Liza's
"don't let the pan boil dry" sounded in her mind. The pan
looked just fine, she determined, before going to her room
for the stationery Aunt Thalia had given her.

Sitting back down at the kitchen table, she wrote Hope
first.

My dearest Hope,

It is with great sadness that I write, for I sorely miss you. You are
always in my thoughts and my prayers. Have you any word from June
or Aunt Thalia? I pray for a letter. I suppose it takes a good many
days for such correspondence to reach Texas. This land is so big; most
of the time I feel as though I've gone to another country.

There are so many times my heart aches for the three of us to be
together again, with Aunt Thalia, in Cold Water. I often wonder f
Deliverance will ever be my home ... a home like the three of us
shared, with laughter and happy times. There is very little laughter
and virtually no happy times here.

I have no intention of doubting the good Lord's ability to know what
is best for me, but I admit that at times my faith falters. I wonder f I
have made a mistake in understanding his direction. Deliverance seems
to be anything but a place where I belong.

Dreary is a word that describes my present situation. Now that I
think about it, the calamity started mere miles before I arrived. The
stagecoach broke down just outside of Deliverance. A kind man named Jeremiah was generous enough to bring me into town on the back of a
donkey... .

I am yet to be a bride, though several attempts have been undertaken.
You will not believe the obstacles; still, I will share them with you.
Perhaps in doing so, we may have ourselves a hearty laugh or two.
It's far more uplifting than crying, which I'm often tempted to do.

Faith then wrote all about the wedding delays, her spoiled
dress, and Mary Ellen's birthing twins. As she wrote, she
sometimes wiped away a tear, and sometimes giggled.

Now Nicholas &forms me the wedding must be postponed yet
another two weeks. He is leaving soon to drive cattle to San Antonio,
where they will be sold and herded up the Chisholm Trail to
somewhere in Abilene or Wichita. Nicholas is a puzzling matt, but
one I think I could grow to love. At times he seems tied to his mother's
apron strings, but I think he only appeases her because he's worried
about her. If I didn't believe that, f I didn't believe there was still hope
for us, I would be on my way back to Michigan this very moment.

I know this letter must leave you disheartened. But blessings do
abound. There is a very nice young widower, Daft Walters. His
struggles are many. But he's taken time to be very kind to me and is a
perfect gentleman in the truest respect. His wife died giving birth to his
daughter. The baby's a darling nine-month-old named Lilly. Daft says
she is the image of her mother. Daft also has two other children. Sissy,
who's three years old and full of vinegar, and Adam, as rambunctious
as any five-year-old, except that he is blind. He has been since birth.

But don't be sad, my precious Hope. This is where the good news
starts. I have the utmost intentions of learning Braille, and as quickly as possible. Jeremiah, the hermit I told you about, is trying to help me
get some Braille books. I want-I have a burning need-to teach
Adam to read. Perhaps that is my calling, the true reason God has
brought me to Deliverance. After all, the way things are going, its
beginning to look like a wedding isn't the purpose for my journey. Ha.
Yes, you may laugh. But not hysterically.

Hope, whatever the Lord has me do, I willingly rejoice in his labor.
When I think of Adam and all of the possibilities, my heart sings. I
think of the Scripture "and a child shall lead them." Perhaps, though
Adam's eyes are now darkened, he will yet be able to shed light, giving
hope and a measure of deliverance to others with the same affliction.
You can see how desperate I am to be even the smallest part of that
miracle. And not just for Adam, though I love him dearly. There are
many who live in darkness, longing for a brighter way. I have this
dream of starting a school to help all the blind who will come learn how
to read.

My dear sister, I ask that you unite with me in prayer concerning
this matter. I know that you will, and God's will shall be done.