“Tree by tree and board by board, a house is built.”
“I know, and a handful of patience is better than a sack of brains,” Abigail muttered. “But if you’re thinking I have any patience, I can assure you mine has just about run out. I want answers, and they’re buried in this town somewhere!”
Brett shifted the quilts he was carrying in his other arm and pulled her close. “Take heart, darlin’, we have the ideal time to find some answers tomorrow when the Harvest Festival gets under way.”
They reached the end of the path and entered the kitchen to find River Roy, Tye, and Maria seated at the table. On the floor, Lenny played with the pup while Swamp, head on his paws, watched cautiously from a distance. River Roy stumbled up as soon as he saw Brett come through the door. His chair toppled to the floor. Brett stopped abruptly. The two men stared at each other with guarded, wary expressions.
“Sit down, sit down, both of you,” Tye admonished them with a wave of his hand. He reached down and righted the chair. “No sense in everyone getting all fired up.”
When River Roy looked at Brett holding the pile of quilts, Abigail spoke up quickly. “We were just getting some old quilts out of the inn to replace them with others.” The last thing she wanted was for the whole town to know she spent the night alone with Brett on the floor of a barroom. She looked from Tye to Maria, but neither of them gave away their night’s escapade.
“Good news, Brett.” Tye again motioned for him to take a seat. “Thanks to River Roy, we finally have your Union orders and your name can be cleared. And you and Maria and Abby have the deed to the mine as well.” He handed him the envelope. Brett looked at him curiously and sat down.
Maria stepped forward and poured Brett a cup of coffee and placed a plate with a large square of cornbread on it before him. He nodded his thanks as he scanned the papers.
Roy Sanderson cleared his throat. “I owe you an apology, Trumble.” He rose again, his chair scraping on the floor as he pushed it back. He nervously glanced at Tye. “You can explain the rest to him, Ashmore. I gotta go.”
“No, might be best if you did.”
“You know I can’t read.” River Roy stared at the floor, and his face colored a deep red. “When the letters came in I just thought they’d be about Walt, not you, Trumble.” He looked up at everyone.
Maria said softly, “You know, I can teach you to read, Mr. Sanderson, if you’d ever like to learn.”
“It’s not a bad idea,” Brett agreed, his forehead wrinkled, his eyes still scanning the papers. “If you’re going to be part owner of the Irene M, you’ll need to know how to read to help run the business. You’re lucky. You have a very talented son who can help you learn when Maria is not available.”
“Yes sireeee,” Tye drawled with distinct mockery. “You’ve got the perfect opportunity and an excellent teacher. I’ll bet Maria could teach an Indian to read if she set her mind to it.” He looked at Maria with a stony expression. Her face grew scarlet. She bit her lip, but said nothing.
“I’ll think on it.” River Roy motioned to his son. “Come, Lenny, there’s a wagonload of wood that needs delivered.”
“You don’t need to rush off,” Abby said.
“Sun’s almost up,” he replied. “I thank you for the cornbread and coffee.”
While he and Lenny shrugged on their coats, Maria spoke. “Don’t forget the Harvest Festival tomorrow, Mr. Sanderson. And Lenny, I’m counting on you to read the passages we practiced. Loud and clear for everyone to hear, you hear me?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Lenny nodded and silently followed his father out into the chilly morning.
****
Later in the afternoon, Maria collected her school supplies and shawl to take out back with her. Once her lesson with Two Bears was finished, she was headed back to the schoolhouse to check her materials for the children’s program the next day at Harvest Festival. She had promised Two Bears she could only meet him for a half hour and was not surprised to find him there early, seated on the rock behind the shed. Over the past weeks, they had made tremendous progress, flying through the materials Maria had available for teaching. Two Bears, it seemed, was as good a student as he was a warrior. He soaked up the lessons like a water-starved man in the burning sun.
“You are early, Two Bears.” She sat, putting her book bag beside her. In his hands, he held an Oliver Optic book she had lent him.
“Was it too difficult?” Maria asked.
Two Bears shook his head. “I stopped at old Theo Sarowski’s house this week when her calf got away, and I spotted it in the forest nearby. She helped me with many of the words which I put here.” He tapped his head.
“Memorized.” Maria nodded. “You already understand how the letters are strung together. You can pronounce most words almost perfectly now. You just need to understand the meaning of them. Very good, Two Bears!” Beside her, the tabby cat from the barn came slinking around the corner, leaped onto the back stoop of the cottage, and surveyed the area around her like a queen on her throne. Abigail had been leaving a pan of milk at the cottage and feeding the cat at the inn to coax it into staying and catching mice. Suddenly without warning, the tabby sniffed the air, cocked its head, and spotted Two Bears. Hissing, she arched her tawny back and backed up a few paces, then vaulted from the stoop onto the path leading up to the Mule Shed. Two Bears and Maria watched her golden tail disappear.
Maria looked warily at Two Bears who was scratching his head. A faint smile played across his face. “For some reason, the cat doesn’t like you, Two Bears.”
“I do not harm animals. White men say a cat has nine lives, is it so?”
Maria shrugged and continued to gaze at him as a thought flitted through her mind. She touched his forearm and noticed a faint latticework of scratches, then eyed his other arm and saw the same pattern. “Poor Priscella almost lost one of those lives the other night under the hooves of Red Langford’s horse, didn’t she?”
“If you say so,” Two Bears replied solemnly. “Prissss-ella? You call that she cat Priscella? Claw Face might be better name.”
“You might want to put some bear grease on those scratches on your arms.” She smirked.
He stared at her, only his dark eyes showing any trace of humor. “Do you know bees and dogs can smell fear? Cats not so much.”
“But it does appear cats have a memory.” She tapped her head.
“Can I keep the book for a few days? Theo Sarowski is willing to help me read it. She said it is good practice to speak the words out loud.”
Maria nodded. “Yes, keep the book. And thank you, for the other night.” She rose. “Come, walk with me to the school house, Two Bears. I can teach you rhyming words and their meaning while we walk. We’ll use the back way through the woods. You’re only going to follow me anyway.”
Two Bears grunted. “That is so.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
The town’s Harvest Festival was a time of gaiety, motion, and commotion as townspeople and farmers in the area came together to celebrate a good year and a bountiful harvest. The Sarowski barn, next to his blacksmith shop, served not only as the town meeting house and polling place during the year, but also as the dance hall for the festivities each October. Folks from all around gathered a few days before to help sweep out the barn, set up chairs and tables, and ready the area for the festive weekend event. While the women saw to the food, the men kept watch on the drinks, assuring everyone the beer and whiskey would never be scarce.
The opening activities started with the children marching down Main Street at noon, carrying flags and banners, and singing the songs they had learned in school. The march culminated in the center of the street where a makeshift dais was constructed, its lower perimeter covered with blankets and where the children kept their props when they recited poetry, performed small skits, or read from their favorite books.
The O’Donnell sisters along with Betsy Ashmore now stood on the sidewalk in front of the General Store, directly across from the dais, ready to help the smaller children needing assistance or help finding their parents once their part in the performance was finished. Brett and Tye crossed the street and sauntered up behind them, tipping their hats to the town folk as they approached. A guitar was slung around Brett’s shoulder.
“Ladies.” Brett touched two fingers to his hat brim, propped a foot up on the boardwalk, and turned to Maria. He surveyed the huge crowd surrounding the dais where a pretty blonde girl was reciting a poem by Robert Browning. “Looks like you’ve outdone yourself, Maria. The children are having a great time, and from the radiant look on the faces of the parents, they are, too. Are you prepared for the finale?”
Maria winced. She didn’t know whether she was going to dread the ending or enjoy it. Lenny, Isaac, and her older students had begged her to let them arrange a surprise presentation for the finale. Reluctantly she had agreed, knowing when children often take on creative responsibility it teaches them a lesson far greater than a lesson in a book. “It looks like you might be part of it?” she asked skeptically.
“Well, they needed a few musicians, so I volunteered.” He shrugged and followed it with a sheepish smile. “I can’t say no to a young’un. And Tye would have my hide if I said no.”
While Lenny finished his final recitation of the day, all the children scrambled away from where they stood with their parents and disappeared beneath the dais. Like a conductor of a major play, he stepped forward, cleared his throat, and addressed the crowd. “These last two presentations are a surprise for our new teacher, Miss O’Donnell, whom all of us admire for her humor, her artistic talents, and her caring nature.” He cleared his throat again, nervously, “And I should add for trusting us to perform in acceptable fashion even though she has no idea what we’ve planned.” Over the chuckles of the crowd, he signaled to Betsy who turned and waved to a group inside the General Store. A group of musicians exited and gathered on the wooden sidewalk, waiting for the proper signal.
Maria was surprised to see children had enlisted adult musicians from the townsfolk. There were two fiddlers, and from inside the store, a piano player. Maria also noticed River Roy Sanderson holding a banjo.
As the group struck up a the lively tune of the “Yellow Rose of Golden,” to the tune of the “Yellow Rose of Texas,” all the children marched out from under the dais, circling it, singing, and holding yellow flowers. When the song ended with the words, “But the yellow rose of Golden is the only one for me,” each child presented a flower to their parents or family members. Then quickly, like a flock of sheep, they clambered back underneath the dais and disappeared for the last song, “Buffalo Gals.” Minutes later, after the musicians played the first line of the song, Maria found herself grinning from ear to ear. The male students, wearing cowboy shirts, vests, and hats and holding yellow cut-outs of the moon paraded out first, followed by the females—from the tiniest first graders to the oldest eighth graders—dressed in old worn dresses and wearing holes in their stockings. Together, they danced by the light of the moon. At the end of the song, Isaac presented Maria with a large bouquet of fall flowers, and Lenny gave her a basket of apples as the parents and crowd roared in approval.
“Well, that’s going to be a tough presentation to beat next year.” Tye smiled and looked at Maria whose eyes were misty. “Oh, no,” he lamented, “please don’t tell me you’re going to cry.”
“I’m so proud of them,” she said, sniffing. “I’m so happy.”
“You cry when you’re happy
and
sad?”
She nodded and gave a resigned shrug.
“Well, I, for one, am going to have to get used to that side of you. But for tonight, I plan for us to dance by light of the moon.” Tye steered her toward the sidewalk where the crowd was dispersing. “You have no idea how many people Isaac and Lenny roped into helping with the performance. Betsy bought all the boys a shirt. I canvassed the barroom and town saloon and offered everyone with the correct head size to match one of the boys, a free drink if he’d lend the kid his hat. Millie helped all the girls round up dresses and stockings and helped them with their hair. Oh, and she made all the matching cloth vests. Brett pulled together the music, and Abby fed all the kids after school on the days they held a practice in the dining room at the Mule Shed.”
“Feeding them was fun,” Abby said, eavesdropping as she followed behind with Brett. “I also had the agonizing pleasure of listening to Brett practice the “Yellow Rose of Texas” and “Buffalo Gals” over and over and
over
again last night before darkness fell, and we camped in peaceful silence inside the barroom.”
“I didn’t know Lenny’s dad could play a banjo,” Maria said.
“Neither did I,” Brett said. “It seems it’s one more enigma about River Roy. I understand he quit when his wife died, but it looks like your little lecture, Tydall, pushed the poor man into realizing he was neglecting his son.”
“Did you know he’s sparking Millie Hanson?” Abigail’s gentle laugh rippled through the air.
Tye raised an eyebrow and looked at the group. “Millie Hanson and River Roy?”
“Behave.” Maria nudged him with her arm and smiled. “Everyone is entitled to their own happiness.”
They had stopped at the corner to watch a wagonload of beets, potatoes, and fall vegetables pass by. The horses pulling the wagon were a perfect matched set of bay-colored Belgian draft horses at least sixteen hands high. The chains on the traces jingled as they pranced in synchronized step.
“And speaking of joyful people, here comes Emma McNeil.” Brett frowned and looked up the walk. “Come, everyone, I think we should head over to the bakery and check out what Anna Ashmore has baked special for the Harvest Festival.” He turned and tried to pull Abigail away from the group.
“Wait!” Maria was growing weary of her aunt as much as Abigail. Abby had been paying her bills around town, but even she was occasionally stopped and asked to remind Emma about her overdue accounts. Last week it was for something she bought at the millinier’s.
Emma approached in a light gray dress with a matching parasol and surveyed the group with a reproachful gaze. “Well, well, was everyone at that silly little play those children were putting on up the street?”