“What do we know?” Flint pushed his chair away from the table to stretch his long legs. He was the oldest and serious one of the group.
“We know Emma is not pleased her nieces came to Golden,” Betsy said. “But we don’t know why.”
“We know Henry McNeil had no enemies,” Tye added.
“Only until his death. There’s someone out there now,” Brett said.
“We need to find out why Emma doesn’t like Cullen Wade.” Tye took a sip of coffee.
“Emma doesn’t like
anyone
.” Marcus snorted. “I can’t believe you called her an old witch to her face.”
Brett grinned and rubbed his chin. “I don’t believe Emma can either—which only emphasizes why I try hard not to get Tydall riled.”
“I think we need to ask more questions from some of the hired help at the Mule Shed.” Flint’s eyes circled the group. “Maybe they know something we’re not aware of.”
Betsy stood. “Everyone has secrets and reasons for them. All we can hope is in time they’ll be discovered. Now, who’s going to help me clean up this mess?”
There was the thunderous noise of chair legs scraping against the floor as the four men scrambled up and made a beeline for the door.
“Just as I thought.” Hands on her hips, Betsy watched them all scatter like buckshot from a shotgun.
****
Maria was glad that school on Monday went without any disturbances. After a long weekend, all the students were weary. Rains sweeping in during the past few days were chilling, adding to the gloomy atmosphere. With her class dismissed for the day, she sat at her desk, grading spelling tests and waiting for the shower to subside. She was pleased with the progress her students were making and with their attentiveness to her teaching methods. They were soaking up knowledge like water splashed on dry sand. She was so engrossed in the task she never heard the door open or anyone enter.
“I see, Ma-ree-a, you are still hard at work,” the deep voice said.
Maria looked up to see Two Bears standing inside the door. He was dripping wet from his stringy black hair down to his knee-high leather moccasins.
“Oh, heavens, Two Bears!” Maria felt her heart thump. “What are you doing sneaking up on people? You scared me.”
“This is the way Two Bears always walks.”
She stood. “Of course, you’re right. I’m used to noisy children stomping around.” She came around her desk and stopped. “You look cold. Here. Come by the stove and get warm.” She went to the small nook in the corner of the room and removed some old cloths she had planned to use for cleaning. “Use these to dry off,” she instructed. “I have water boiling for a cup of tea. Would you like some? I have honey, too.” She pulled a small bench away from her desk where she placed unruly students and dragged it to the stove. “I assume you’re trying to get out of the rain.” The kettle hissed and whistled, and she took it from the top of the stove and poured boiling water into a small teapot on her desk. From a drawer she withdrew two porcelain cups and put them beside the pot.
“I came to see you.”
Maria’s gaze locked with his and she stared suspiciously at him.
“How is your arm?”
“Much better, thank you.”
Two Bears’ dark penetrating eyes surveyed her. “I wish to learn to read and write.”
She sighed. “Oh, Two Bears. No.”
“Why not? Two Bears is quick at learning.” He finished drying himself and laid the cloths beside him on the bench. “You do not want to teach me?”
“Two Bears, it’s not that I don’t want to teach you, but I fear it’s not safe.”
“No one has to know except you and Two Bears.” He pointed at her and thumped his chest. “I can pay. What do you need, teee-cher? I see you have no horse and must ride horse of Tye Ashmore.”
Maria poured the tea into the cups and added a teaspoon of honey, stirring it with the only spoon she had. From her desk, she withdrew a tin and took out a biscuit. She handed the hot liquid to Two Bears along with a biscuit. “Careful, it’s hot.”
She leaned against the edge of her desk and gave him a challenging look. “What if the townspeople find out?” She blew on the hot liquid in her cup. “And I can’t take anything from you, but if you’re wondering, my fondest wish is to have some chickens someday. Imagine, fresh eggs for breakfast every morning or a fried egg sandwich at night.”
Two Bears grunted and chewed on the biscuit. “The people in your town do not need to know. I can come to a place where we would be safe. After school, here. Or behind your house and shed. Or in the forest.”
“I fear it wouldn’t work,” she said.
“Fear? Are you afraid of me?”
“I’m afraid
for
us
.” Setting her cup aside, she crossed her arms at her chest and paced the room. “I don’t want to be fired out…from my job.”
“Fire?” he asked curiously. “What kind of fire?”
“Fired out. Sacked.”
“What is this fire in the sack?” He looked at her still puzzled.
“Get the boot.”
“Boot?” He was getting agitated now.
Maria looked at him, stopped, and burst out laughing. It was going to be a long autumn, if she agreed to his request. “All those words mean to be dismissed. To be let go. Told to leave. I would not have a job here.”
He stared at her a minute, then brightened. “Then you’ll do it?” His grin, with two front teeth missing, was wide like a jack-o-lantern’s. He slurped his tea.
She rolled her eyes and shook her head. “As God is my witness, I have no idea why, Two Bears. Let’s meet behind the shed after school two times a week. There’s a few flat rocks surrounded by sumac and briars and close to the woods where no one can see. If it gets too cold, we’ll have to find another place. We’ll meet next week unless it rains.”
“Leave a water bucket outside the back door if you can’t meet me,” Two Bears suggested, grinning. “Leave a dipper in the water bucket if you can meet me in the afternoon.”
She nodded, went to her desk drawer, and withdrew a sketchpad and pencil. “Here’s your first assignment.” She wrote his name at the top of the paper and the first thirteen letters of the alphabet. “Now practice writing these.” She sounded out all the letters three times, pausing to point to the corresponding letter on the paper. On the fourth attempt, she encouraged him to say them and was amazed when he repeated them all perfectly.
“Well, I can see you’ll be a quick learner.” She ripped off the page, folded it, and handed it to him with a pencil.
He handed the pencil back. “I will practice these over and over with a stick in the soft earth by the riverbank.” He handed her his teacup. “Your tea is good, Ma-ree-a. Your biscuit is good. Did you make it?”
“No, Anna Ashmore makes them.”
“Anna Ashmore bakes for your whole village. She is a hard worker. She would be welcome in Indian villages.”
Maria smiled. “Yes, she is a hard worker and a good woman.”
“You are a good woman, too.”
Maria shook her head in exasperation, went to a peg by the door, and removed her cape. She opened the door and peered out. The sun was starting to peek though the rain-soaked trees. “I will see you soon.” She threw her cape around her shoulders.
“You think about what you might need, Ma-ree-a,” Two Bears said and slipped silently out the door.
Chapter Fourteen
The sun was not even up on Saturday when Maria planted her feet on the cold floor, opened her sister’s bedroom door, and shook her awake. “Let’s get up, sunshine,” she coaxed as Abigail groaned and yanked the covers over her head. “I want to go up to the manse and see what dresses Aunt Emma may be willing to give us. We’ve been wearing the same four dresses for the last month. Surely there are clothes of Emma’s in her attic I can remake for both of us. With the money we save from not purchasing yard goods, we might be able to buy a few chickens. Oh, how I long for fresh eggs for breakfast every morning.”
Abigail yawned. “She’ll probably chase us away, the wretched crone. I wouldn’t be surprised if she tried to cast a spell on us. She probably doesn’t remember offering the clothes.”
Maria laughed. “Oh, hush, Abby. Of course, she’ll remember, or we’ll remind her.”
Later, as they walked through the early morning fog and up the hill toward the manse, they met Millie Hanson coming toward the barn and carriage house, located at the bottom of the hill. An empty milk pail in her hand swayed in rhythm to her steps. Tye had told Maria that as soon as Emma married Henry McNeil she insisted he construct both buildings away from the house so there would be no odor from the horses or cattle to permeate the manse when its windows were open. The old barn beside the house had been cleaned and was now used only for storage.
“Good morning, Millie,” Maria said to the older woman as she drew near. “Where are you headed so early?”
“I need to milk the cow. Emma’s taken off for town with Lang Redford, and Will Singer is repairing a leak in the inn’s roof. And those two no accounts Lang hired can’t be found anywhere. The poor old cow can’t wait much longer.” The little woman pushed some damp curls off her forehead, and Maria immediately regretted her earlier remark. Millie must have been up hours earlier, baking, cooking, cleaning and washing clothes for Emma. The woman was too polite to point out her error.
Abigail spoke, “Emma said there were old dresses in trunks in the attic we could look through to remake for ourselves.”
“Use the back door and go up the kitchen steps to the attic,” Millie instructed them. “It’s faster. Look around. If you need help finding anything, I should be finished milking Blossom in a few minutes.”
“When is Emma returning?” Maria asked.
Millie shrugged. “She said she was stopping at the General Store and going over to Sarah Watson’s to try on some new hats. It will take most of the morning, I imagine, if I know Emma McNeil.”
Millie started toward the barn, then stopped and turned back, glancing at Maria. “I heard what you did for River Roy’s son, allowing him to go to school a couple days a week. It was right kind of you. His pa delivers wood to the manse for Emma, too. He told me you were riding one of Tye Ashmore’s mounts.”
Maria nodded. “Tye was very generous. It will take us a long while to get enough money to buy horses and tack.”
Millie pursed her lips. “I’ll talk to Lang Redford. Emma has two of your uncle’s horses in the stables. He used to ride. I’m sure Lang would be happy to have you exercise them when you girls have free time. One’s a big red gelding. The other, a docile white filly.”
Maria gave her a wary look. “I don’t know whether Aunt Emma would allow it.”
Millie waved her free hand in the air, dismissively. “Emma has never had any love for riding. She used to despise your uncle when he went out and came back smelling like leather and the horse barn. Emma tolerates the carriage horses because she needs them to take her places.” She drew in a breath and smiled, before turning back toward the barn. “What she doesn’t know isn’t going to hurt her.”
****
As the girls climbed the hill and later the back stairs, Maria wondered why Millie Hanson continued to work for Emma. Millie was a spinster, having never been married. She remembered Uncle Henry would often mention her in his letters, telling them what a wonderful apple or blackberry pie the housekeeper had made. Was Henry a content man once he married Aunt Emma? Never once in his letters had he spoken of his personal happiness. He often wrote of other things instead. How the town and territory were growing. How statehood was just around the corner. How he was pleased the war was over. Or how the inn was doing and who had stopped by to stay for a night before traveling westward.
The attic was large, built of sturdy beams with two sloping and windowless walls, perpendicular to two end walls, each with a window. A planed, but unfinished floor held a motley assortment of junk and cast-off items. Trunks of all sorts lined the perimeter of the room in addition to old chairs with faded upholstery and broken legs. Old ledgers, vacant picture frames, and books were scattered among traveling cases, dress forms, hatboxes, and crates of old china and empty bottles.
Abigail went to a nearby trunk and lifted the dusty lid. “Oh, here are some everyday dresses.” She knelt on the floor, her back to Maria, and started to root through the trunk and pull out garments. “And they look like they’re cotton and hardly worn, perfect for us.” She pulled out a yellow gingham dress and proceeded to inspect it for missing buttons and flaws.
Maria moved to a trunk at the far back of the room, tucked under the eaves to the right of the window. She opened it and peered inside. A folded Confederate uniform, along with what looked like a stack of letters and a saber, were inside, beside a pile of men’s work clothes, shoes, and belts. Maria removed the top letter and was about to open it, when she heard footsteps on the attic stairs. Heart pounding, she quickly folded the letter, tucked it inside her pocket, then quietly closed the lid, moving across the room to another trunk and hurriedly opening it. It was full of blankets, quilts, and old sheets.
Millie appeared at the top of the steps. “Did you find what you girls are looking for?” She peered at Maria. “Most of the Emma’s clothes are in the trunks up front here.”
“I know, but I was wondering whether Aunt Emma could spare a few of these old blankets.” Heart thudding, but relieved she was not caught snooping through the trunk under the eaves, Maria forced out a smile. “At school, once the cold sets in, these old blankets would be excellent to use for the bigger children who are in the back of my room away from the warmth of the stove. Actually, some of these could be given to some poor children who have little at home to keep them warm.” She thought about Two Bears who had shivered in the cold rain and was just pleased to sit by the warm stove and sip some hot tea.
Millie pursed her thin lips. “I’m sure Emma wouldn’t want them to be given to the poor. She believes it would only make them more dependent and helpless. She and your uncle always disagreed about money and people in need. But I say, take them. Emma doesn’t even know these cast-offs are up here. The colors are faded or not quite right…or the threads are worn too thin to suit Emma’s rich tastes. You’ll have to remove them before she returns.” She looked at them with a fearful gaze.