Tonight they would be reading about Joseph. He seemed a lot like Elmer to Nan. They hurried so that the reading could begin. Before they started though, this time, Fred had them sit at the table. He gave them a broken piece of flat stone called slate and a crumbly white rock. He showed Elmer how to write his name on the slate. He loved knowing what his name looked like. He tried several times and Fred told him it wouldn’t take many times of practice before he would learn it.
Then the reading began. Fred told them that the Bible was written thousands of years ago. Nan just couldn’t believe that something so old could be so interesting.
After the reading came the memory work. Fred was teaching them the twenty third Psalms and the Lord’s Prayer; the words were beautiful and powerful. Nan didn’t understand the meaning of some of the words, and she knew that Elmer didn’t either, but it made her happy to think of herself as a fluffy white lamb and God taking care of her. One day Nan asked Fred, “What does hallowed mean?”
“Holy I think.”
“Oh” Nan frowned, “What exactly is holy?”
“Without sin.”
“What are trespasses?”
“Sins.”
“Oh. I don’t think I have tres—sinned against anyone, but they sure have sinned against me!”
Fred’s eyes looked amused, “Is that right?”
“I don’t want to forgive my stepma for everything she did to us.”
Fred looked concerned. “Well, Nan, the want to has to come from God. Remember, Joseph forgave his brothers for selling him to the slave traders in our last Bible reading. God had to help him do that.”
“I never cared for my stepmother and I never want to see her again, and I enjoy hating her!”
“Nan, hate is a disease that will destroy you. When you forgive those who sin against you, God will help you from falling into temptation and deliver you from evil. It is God’s power that does this.”
“I’m not ready to let go of the hate!” Nan was crying hard and clenching her fists. “I guess God can’t love me if I want to hate people!”
“That’s not true, Nan. The Bible says, ‘Yea, I have loved you with an everlasting love that while you were yet sinners, Christ died for you.’”
“I will have to think on that a while. I don’t know what I want to do. Maybe I better not say The Lord’s Prayer until I figure it all out. I am not a liar.” With that said, she went to the trundle bed and lay beside Elmer who was sleeping peacefully.
Fred watched her as he pretended to read. Nan was usually so sweet and gentle. He had rarely seen this hate filled side of her. Her anger had been strong, real and justified, but it was not good for her.
He knew what she was going through because he had been angry with God about Claire and Joy’s deaths. There were still times when he wanted to scream out his “whys?” to God. These children had unknowingly shown him that life must go on even when terrible things have happened.
He would never be able to explain to them how a loving God could let their Mama and Papa die leaving them with the cruel caretakers, or why the girl he loved since childhood and their playful little daughter, Joy, had been snatched away by the stealthy blow of influenza. Were there answers? Had he forgiven and was he forgiven? Had he forgiven his previous “flock” for their unjust behavior? He spent the better part of the night in prayer, and when he laid on the featherbed that night his soul was at peace with the Holy Father in heaven.
Chapter 9
Mary knew the man who was knocking loudly on her door. He was a nosey sort that seemed to always poke around their place to “check on the younguns.”
“I’m comin’, Jeb. Can I help ya?”
“Your old Molasses was wandering by the train tracks this morning and I wondered if them kids had let her out or what? The gate was closed.”
“They probably went fishing. You know kids, Jeb, they like to play all they can.”
Jeb looked past her into the room. “Well he’s in the pasture now. Tell Nan and Elmer howdy for me. Say, when is Sam comin’ home?”
“Directly. I don’t want to keep you from your work. Bye now.” Mary shut the door a little too firmly to be neighborly, but Jeb was just snooping. I ain’t lettin’ nobody know ‘bout them kids. I’ll have to come up with something if Jeb comes back though. Let’s see…They can’t be fishin’ forever! Do they have any kin somewhere, anywhere? I jist as well make up some kinfolk that they might go to visit. It would be fittin for them to see kin. Think, old gal…They went to an aunt’s house, yeah a great Aunt… Gracie in Boston. I’ll tell Sam that too. Maybe he will be glad to be rid of them. I’ll tell him Aunt Gracie gave us the house and land since she is so rich and we won’t divide inheritance with the kids. That will make him happy.
She scurried around the house and removed every trace of the children, putting everything into the trunk. Struggling, she put the trunk into the buckboard, hitched up Molasses and took the trunk to the old train station.
As the stationmaster greeted the sweating, agitated, Mary Dewey, he noticed the large trunk on the buckboard. “I need to send this trunk to Boston and I need two tickets to Boston for the children. Uh, they are on the train already and I will take the tickets to them.”
“They will have to change trains three times. Are you certain you shouldn’t get a ticket and go with them?” The old clerk asked.
Mary thought for a moment, she could go and escape everything, but what would she do in Boston? She had a home now and husband, maybe. She had more of a chance with Mr. Dewey than some unknown person that may never come along. “No, Nan is fifteen and she is smart. They will do fine.”
“Address to send the trunk to?”
“None. Their great aunt will arrange that when they get there. She may not even claim it after they get there. She doesn’t want anything from us. She is quite wealthy you know. Uppity if you must know. Afraid we weren’t giving them culture and stuff. Those people just ain't grateful to us…except they did give us the farm.” Mary could hardly believe that she was telling all these lies to this complete stranger.
Truthfully, she never wanted to see those kids again and she would have to figure out what to do if they ever did come back. She would figure that out when and if it happened. She took the tickets and headed for the passenger car, walked in and through a couple of cars, then got on the platform and waved to her nonexistent charges. She was very proud of her creativity in this expensive lie. It was expensive, but worth it.
The scorching day was bearing hard on Mary’s back as she drove the old mare into the farmyard. The place was still neat and orderly, but there was something strangely quiet about it. She had Molasses take the buckboard to the lean-to shed next to the barn, and then she unharnessed the gentle workhorse and led her out to the pasture.
She gave a sigh as she watched the animal nibble the grass. Life was lonely. That was a hard fact that Mary just had to live with. The children had always spoken in soft tones to one another when they were settling down for the night. It had been a pleasant sound even if it did smite her in her heart that she never would be that close to anyone.
One day, if she had a child of her own, she would speak softly. The child would want to wrap chubby little arms around her and call her Mama. The glow of love would shine in baby eyes.
Never would she lay a hand on a child again. I swear it! I don’t know what got into me. I am not a monster without feelings. I can be good. I will myself to change. I am starting today!
Now that Nan and Elmer were gone, she had a new start. No one would remember the harsh treatment and words. She could do it. Turning over a new leaf, right. Other people could do it, why not me. I am going to be so good that people will talk about me. I will make friends. I don’t like being alone on this vast prairie. I must have someone to talk to.
Now that she made that commitment to herself, how would she go about carrying it out? Where do I start? It used to be that acquaintances were made while going to sch
ool. I am too old for school. I will go into town tomorrow and get some things in the general store. I will speak to the lady at the counter. I better start slow, I don’t want people to notice too much of a change in me. I will ask her a question about herself. It shouldn’t be too personal. What do other people talk about? Weather. Let me see. “Mrs. Waide, it is mighty hot weather we have been having lately.” I should say something about Nan and
Elmer. Let me see… “I am sure that my children, Nan and Elmer, are enjoying their visit with their aunt in Boston.” What will I say if they ask how I could let them stay or live there? Nancy, the children’s mother, had an elderly aunt that truly wanted to raise the children herself. There are a lot of other cousins that would add a wonderful influence in their lives.
That’s it. I need to look like I am doing it for the good of the children. I will say that a little bit. “… for the good of the children.”
That sounds mighty kind of me. I can tell how lonesome it was for them out on the little farm and how much culture they will get in the big city. I can even say that I miss the big city. I know, I’ll say that I love the shopping and theatre and miss it so much. That might make me sound more interesting. It is a sight better than the truth. I need to get my story straight.
She walked slowly to the house and looked at the clothes on the hooks in her room. There wasn’t much, but there was a dress her mother helped her make for her wedding. It was no more that a fancier version of her work dresses, but she had been saving it for a special occasion. Well, this was a special occasion. She was making a brand new Mary Dewey. Maybe she would have enough egg money to buy some fabric for a new dress.
At the very least, she did need some more chicken feed. That would mean that she could get feed sacks in a pretty print. The fabric was coarse, but some of it was kind of pretty. She would have to get at least three sacks, probably four to make it look like anything. Mr. Dewey would have a fit if she bought that much at one time, but he wasn’t here now, was he?
She looked into the mirror over the washbasin by the door. Good folk wouldn’t welcome a woman that looked so severe. “If I’m going to make myself over, then I need to do it right!” She took down the braids that were wrapped tightly around her head and unwound them. She had good hair. Not wonderful like the mother of the children, but she might try to do something with it. She better not be too different though. If Mr. Dewey showed up, it wouldn’t do for him to notice a change all at once. She thought of the photograph in the trunk that she had sent to Boston. Mary had her hair technically fashioned in the same manner that Nancy wore hers. There was a difference though. Nancy wove the strands a little looser than Mary liked hers to be. It gave a softer look to the hair. Mary liked hers to be tight and smooth so that none of it would ever dare escape during a day of hard work. She had to remind herself that she was reinventing herself. Softer, looser, not so tight… After a few attempts, she managed to mimic Nancy’s style perfectly.
There was something still wrong. There was no light in her eyes. “Love light” she heard a busybody woman say at a wedding in her hometown. Well, she had no love light. Did she love anyone?
Mary paused for a few moments to reflect on her life. Was there no one that could cause her to have love light in her eyes? After some intense thinking, Mary finally thought of someone. Yes, there was someone, the child that she would have someday. She thought of the child and looked in the mirror. Her eyes were somewhat warmer, but pain and trouble were mingled in with the new warmth of love.
She got out the old wooden ironing board and flat irons. After stoking the fire in the wood stove, she finally got the flat irons hot. She worked on smoothing the wrinkles out of the tired fabric until the first flat iron grew cold. She then proceeded to work with the second flat iron while the first one reheated on the stove. It was a long, tiring process, but she just had to look her best. Maybe she needed to look better than her best.
Chapter 10
Winter would be coming on in a few weeks, and signs of the change of season were everywhere. The aspen had put on their yellow coats and stood watch over the meadow, and Nan and Elmer were growing bronze and healthy with all the fresh air and good food. It was so beautiful here that Nan could almost forget the past.
She had taken a few clothes to the stream to wash when she heard a noise in the trees. It was men’s voices. She scurried to the tall brush and hid. They were talking loudly and their laughter boomed in the quiet meadow. There were three of them. They looked to be trappers with pelts laid across the back of a pack mule. They were anticipating the celebration they would have after the sale of their pelts.
Nan trembled and hoped that she would not be discovered. Fred had gone out to check his trap lines and Elmer had gone with him with Rufus trailing along. She never anticipated seeing another human being while they were gone.
She listened to their banter as they let their horses drink from the stream. Hopefully they would not spy the wet clothes lying close to the bank. As they looked toward the cabin the tallest of the three spoke, “I reckon ole Fred wouldn’t mind if we got us a little grub.”
“Probably not.”
They seemed to be in agreement. They strode up to the cabin and opened the latch and let themselves in.
“Man oh man, this boy is stocked up!”
“Good, then it won’t run him short if we eat,” said the toughest looking one of the bunch. They stayed in the cabin for such a long time that Nan’s legs were numb. She couldn’t have moved if she had wanted to. Eventually they left the cabin and got on their horses with the pack mule in tow.
“Seemed like an excess of plates out to me, Sam. What do you think?”
“Maybe Fred got hisself a squaw.”
“Maybe.”
“He beats all I ever seen. Keepin’ to hisself all this time and now a squaw. Wonder if he reads that Bible to her.”
They roared with laughter most of the way down the mountain. The last intelligible words Nan heard was, “Imagine that, a Christian Injun woman! He’s quite the gent alright.”
Nan pulled her legs out from under her and waited for the painful tingle to hit them. She was so relieved to finally get out from the bushes. Stretching, she listened for their voices and heard nothing except the rush of the stream. Clumsily, she approached the cabin. They used quite a few supplies, but at least they were gone. She wondered where the dirty plates were, but realized after viewing the table that they hadn’t used any. There were few crumbs, signs of a meal eaten off the table.
She was glad that the trundle bed was put under the big one so the men wouldn’t know that there might be more than one new person living with Fred. She wiped off the table and used the makeshift broom to clean up the floor.
She had learned from Fred how to sweep a dirt floor to make it clean. He had showed her to sprinkle water on the dirt and then sweep lightly. The loose dirt would sweep away leaving a hard packed dirt surface.
He said that his wife, Claire, was just beginning to crochet a rag rug when she died. Her plans had been to put the colorful rag rug on the hardened dirt floor to make the room cozier. Nan had never learned to crochet, but she had a nice rag rug at home. She had to agree with Claire, they did make a room cozy.
Without warning, tears were streaming down Nan’s tanned cheeks at the thought of her home and mother. Mama had made such a wonderful home for her and Elmer and Dad.
Why did it all have to end so soon? Nan could hardly remember the details of how her mother looked. Actually all she could remember was the photograph that Mr. Dewey had made Mama put in the big trunk the day they were married. Nan snuck in and looked at it whenever Mary Dewey was in town getting supplies. She and Elmer just stared at the happy family inside the four walls of the picture frame.
Nan scolded herself, “Well, girl, quit crying. You are safe and Fred treats you and Elmer pretty fine.”
“What’s wrong, Nan” whispered Elmer as he looked into the cabin. Nan had left the
door open and hadn’t heard Fred and Elmer walk up. She jumped in alarm, afraid that the trappers had returned. “I was just thinking about how life has as many bends in it as a little mountain creek.”
Elmer smiled, he liked the way Nan strung words together like a storybook. “I still don’t know what you mean, but I hope it was happy thinking, sister.”
Just then Fred ducked into the doorway. “How were things while we were gone, Nan?”
“Well, some trappers came by while I was at the creek and ate a good portion of our supply. I stayed hidden in the brush and didn’t try to stop them.”
“How many were there?”
“Three. A tall lanky man and a short red headed younger man and…”
“I know those men. They will leave us be. They probably went into Silverton to get some supplies and sell their pelts. They will probably stay on Blair Street until most of their money is spent on drink and…” Fred had forgotten that he was talking to naïve children and just let the words trail off. He knew that nothing good could come from hanging around Silverton’s Blair Street. He had tried it when Claire and Joy died and their memory still refused to be blocked out.
Fred looked through the remaining supplies and mentally estimated the amount of food it would take to survive the winter. Elmer and Nan were sensible eaters and understood the need for discretion. Still, he made the decision to go hunting at first light tomorrow so that he could restore their meat supply and have time to get it made into jerky.
*****
It was still dark when Fred got together his bedroll and food to take with him on his hunt. He would be gone for no less than three days. He knew he would be going up farther than his trap lines; the deer would be thick in the area that he was going for the hunt. He hoped to get a quick kill, dress the meat, and get back to cabin before the snow started falling.