Heartland Courtship (12 page)

He’d heard that but didn’t really agree. He’d told the truth once and had nearly died for it. He stood up, galvanized. “I’m going to look for downed branches and the like with the boy. Good kindling for the winter.”

She hopped up too as he’d moved the bench. “Excellent. I must be busy with my ladyfingers.”

They rarely stood so close to each other and the air between them appeared to waver, an odd feeling of connection. He tried to move but was captured by the sight of little beads of perspiration on her upper lip, which drew his gaze down to her mouth as pretty as a rosebud, soft pink and...

Abruptly, he nodded in assent and headed straight for the door. Outside he pulled on his hat and scanned the yard. The boy was carrying a full basket of eggs toward the cabin. “Let’s go. We’ll gather some downed wood.”

He walked rapidly toward the road and headed north of town, Jacque soon at his heels. Again he wished he’d been able to leave town when he wanted to. Without the boy here, last night he would have bolted for sure. Staying around a special woman like Miss Rachel was giving him foolish ideas.

And now he’d just asked Miss Rachel to contact Lorena’s home place. This could stir up the past. Already his stomach wanted to reject his breakfast. He forced down the sensation.

He had to know if the boy was his and the boy needed to know it, too. Another worry niggled. Did Miss Rachel think him completely illiterate? Shame burned his cheeks and he lengthened his strides, hurrying the boy.

* * *

A week later Miss Rachel and Jacque stood outside, she washing and he drying the breakfast dishes.

She found herself chewing her bottom lip. This morning, First Day or what most called Sunday, she would as usual attend worship at the schoolhouse and this afternoon go to the church picnic, a social occasion where she could get to know more of her neighbors. She was trying to come up with a way to persuade Jacque and Brennan to come, too. Her earlier invitation had been met with silence. She glanced over her shoulder to where he lounged against a tree in its shade.

Brennan cleared his throat. “Jacque, I decided you’re going to church and the picnic with Miss Rachel like she asked. You mind your manners. You’ll like it. I remember church picnics. Lots of good food and kids playin’ tag.”

Jacque didn’t reply, merely stared at him, looking confused.

Rachel was just as surprised. She hadn’t expected him to allow Jacque to go. “Perhaps thee would like to come, too?” she asked, her heart suddenly speeding up.

“My wrist’s healed and I got plans for today,” he said, rising. “I’m going to take a walk. Maybe fish a bit.” Then he turned and headed up the road away from town.

Unhappy with this response, Rachel handed Jacque the final spoon to dry. She looked down at him. He looked more than usually cheerful and she guessed it was because he wore his new clothing and she’d cut his hair. Worry nipped her. The scene on the main street, when that awful man had so rudely abandoned him, and Jacque’s thick Southern accent, would not be ignored.

After Jacque handed her the dried spoon and emptied the dishwater onto her flowers, Rachel and he carried the clean dishware inside and set the stack on the shelf and covered it with a clean cloth.

Rachel rested a hand on Jacque’s shoulder. “We will have a good day,” she said more to bolster her confidence than his. “I’ll get my Bible.” Then the two of them walked down the track toward town.

She sighed. “Let me be frank, Jacque. Thee knows how children—and grownups, too, unfortunately
—
can be to strangers.”

Jacque looked up and frowned.

“I remember how children always pick on anyone new or different.”

Jacque shrugged. “I can take care of myself.”

“Thee intends to fight anybody who is rude?” she asked without rancor.

Jacque repeated the shrug.

“I understand thee might have to...defend thyself,
but
—” to emphasize her point, she gripped his shoulder “—don’t start the fight.” She had been raised to turn the other cheek, but even Quaker boys fought with each other. “Does thee understand me, Jacque?”

He considered this. “I can fight back, but I better not take the first swing?”

“Well stated.” The schoolhouse lay on the other side of the village. As they walked through town, Levi came out of his shop and joined them. Rachel nodded in reply to his greeting and noted that Levi looked as if he’d taken special care with his appearance today. She wondered why. All the while, the fact that Mr. Merriday had not come also prodded her, drawing down her mood. Why had she even hoped he’d come?

At the door of the log schoolhouse community church, Noah waited to greet them. Rachel said, “Jacque, this is my cousin Noah Whitmore. Noah, this is Jacque.”

“Hello, sir,” Jacque said, but refused to look into Noah’s face.

Noah gripped the boy’s shoulder. “You are welcome here, Jacque.”

This caused the boy to glance up at the man. Then the press of others arriving moved the two of them into the church.

Just inside the door sat Old Saul in his wheelchair. Rachel had met him again in town with Noah, who obviously held the older man in high regard and affection. So she stopped to greet him and introduce Jacque.

The older man took the boy’s hand gently. “Jacque, we are happy to have you with us. Just remember God never forgets us even when it feels like He has.”

“Yes, sir,” Jacque said obediently.

Old Saul smiled and nodded. “You’ll understand that when you’re older, I pray.”

More people wanted to greet Old Saul. Rachel headed straight for her cousin’s wife near the front. Jacque sat beside her, craning his neck and swinging his legs.

She noted the attention, some surreptitious and some blatant, that Jacque was receiving. She hoped no one would ruin the day with rudeness. She would make certain to steer clear of certain people, most notably Mrs. Ashford.

Noah went to the front. The service went as usual, hymn singing, prayers for the nation, state and town, and one of Noah’s bracing sermons on loving one’s neighbor. Rachel hoped it would actually penetrate a few stubborn hearts here. Loving others always brought blessings.

Soon everyone was outside in the blazing summer sun. Sons helped fathers set up tables in the shade of trees and daughters helped mothers set out tablecloths and bowls of food. Families laid down blankets for the children to sit on while the adults sat at the tables.

Rachel enjoyed the festive excitement but Jacque stayed close by her side, which saddened her a little. He should be off making friends, but his situation and history worked against him. Evidently he didn’t even trust Johann to be his friend in the presence of others. When Mr. Merriday had ordered Jacque to come with her, had he given this any thought? Probably not.

Then a younger boy with dark hair and eyes approached them. “Hello, Miss Rachel.”

She smiled. Everyone had adopted Brennan’s form of address. She liked it. She’d seen this boy before. “Thee is Gunther Lang’s nephew?”

“Yes, miss. I’m Johann.” He turned to Jacque. “You want to play tag with us, Jacque?”

Jacque looked up at her, asking silent permission.

She nodded with a smile.

Jacque’s face lightened. The two boys hurried off together.

Ellen Lang, Johann’s new aunt and a former schoolteacher in Pepin, had come behind Johann. She was a tall, elegant woman in a lovely dress of blue cambric and a fashionable hat. “I was happy to see you brought Jacque with you. He needs to start making friends.”

“It was kind of Johann to invite him.”

“Johann understands being the new boy in town.” Then Noah called everyone to quiet for grace. A few solemn moments, then a loud Amen and the buzz of happy voices, young and old.

Rachel smiled. Memories of childhood meetinghouse gatherings came back to her with a pang of homesickness. Then she noted how Levi had managed to get himself seated at the table where Posey Brown sat with her imposing grandmother and the Ashfords.
Brave man.

Rachel found herself at the next table, sitting with Noah, Sunny and their children and other neighbors, Martin and Ophelia Steward and Nan and Gordy Osbourne. Rachel contented herself with listening to the chatter though her eyes kept straying to the edges of the clearing, hoping to see Mr. Merriday appear.

From the corner of her eye, she also kept track of Levi’s shy pursuit of Posey and of Jacque’s behavior. He had been invited to sit with Johann at another table. She had never seen the boy happier than when he’d run over to ask her permission to sit with the Langs.
God bless Johann.

Posey kept looking over at Jacque and Rachel wondered why.

After everyone had eaten their fill, they rose and began putting food away in the shade or in the springhouse. Posey passed by Rachel. “Mr. Merriday didn’t come?”

Rachel merely shrugged, wondering why the girl asked.

“That day we helped you whip up ladyfingers, I asked him if he ever was in Kentucky. He said he doubted we’d met before. But his name just sounds so familiar. I wish I could place it.”

Rachel didn’t know what to say and then Mrs. Ashford called Posey.

The quiet, friendly afternoon passed pleasantly. Rachel sat on a blanket near Sunny, whose two children were napping in the shade. Rachel noticed that Levi and Posey were nowhere to be seen. The young woman’s grandmother Almeria sat dozing against a tree and Mrs. Ashford was talking to another woman. Rachel told Sunny to lie down and nap, too. She’d watch the babies.

Rachel relaxed against the tree behind her, watching the sun and shadows play over the dry grass of the schoolyard, hearing the clink of the horseshoes and the voices of children playing as quietly as they could manage since it was the Sabbath.

Breathing in the heavy August air, she wished Mr. Merriday had come and was here tossing horseshoes with the other men. She now knew that something bad must have happened to separate him from his wife, but what? Why had Jean Pierre called him a coward?

Then a strident woman’s voice snapped Rachel completely alert again. “You should show more sense.”

Rachel, along with almost everyone else, turned to see a sad-looking Posey being reluctantly led by the hand back to the clearing.

Red-faced, Levi followed a few paces behind.

“But Grandmother—” Posey started.

“Do not bother to argue. I will not change my mind.”

Posey sent Levi an agonized glance over her shoulder. Her grandmother kept pulling Posey through the gathering toward town. Levi turned away into the trees, evidently aware of how everyone was staring.

Rachel was embarrassed for Levi and the girl and as she glanced around she saw she wasn’t the only one. Rachel’s gaze met Sunny’s.

Sunny shook her head, frowning. “Levi is well liked in town and Almeria is a newcomer,” she whispered. “Why make such a ruckus in front of everyone? This will not be appreciated.”

Rachel sighed in agreement.

And then she heard raised voices. She glimpsed the corner of the schoolhouse where Jacque was taking a swing at a bigger boy. She leaped up and ran toward the boys.

When she reached them, she halted. The two boys were fully engaged. Swinging punches. Yelling. At the sight of her, the other children, except for Johann, scattered. Noah hurried to catch up with her.

Before she could even speak, Noah grabbed Jacque by the collar, dragging him away from the fight.

Another man yanked the bigger boy away, saying that the child should have known better than to pick a fight on Sunday in front of the whole town.

Rachel thought the man had missed the point.

“It is not Jacque’s fault,” Johann insisted. “Clayton always starts fights. He called Jacque’s father a...a name.”

“That was very wrong,” Noah cut in, “but fighting never solves anything.”

Jacque looked up resentfully.

“That takes time to learn,” Noah said. “And some never do. Jacque, why don’t you wash your hands and face at the pump?”

“Come on,” Johann encouraged Jacque. “I’ll go with you.”

Jacque allowed Johann to lead him toward the pump at the other end of the school building. Clayton and his father stalked away in the opposite direction.

Rachel looked to her cousin. “Thank thee, Noah.” She didn’t know what else to say.

Noah touched her arm. “Sunny and I pray faithfully for you, Mr. Merriday and Jacque.”

For some reason, this comment brought moisture to her eyes. She pressed her hand over his and then turned, noticing Mr. Merriday at the edge of the clearing.

Rachel nearly called out his name, but stopped herself. She didn’t want to bring attention to him. They’d both had enough of that. How could she smooth matters for Jacque after the fight? She couldn’t of course. But she could prompt them to leave.

She lifted a hand and motioned toward the basket she’d brought, still resting beside Sunny in the shade. He obviously saw her silent request and moved to get it, sliding through the others also gathering up their goods. A few stopped to look at him; a few shook their heads in silent judgment, raising her hackles.

Jacque returned to her side, looking downhearted. A bruise under his left eye was just beginning to show. “Johann has to go home now.”

“Perhaps when his family comes to town, he will be able to drop in for a visit.”

Jacque hid his reaction to this, but pointedly did not look toward his father...toward Mr. Merriday, even when he joined them walking home.

Rachel naturally wanted to ask Jacque what the other boy had called his father, but she did not give in to curiosity. Still, she did not miss the glares Jacque was sending Mr. Merriday. Whatever Brennan Merriday had done to cut himself off from his family was still bearing bitter fruit. The strife between the two had not abated in the least.

And why had Brennan come at the end of the picnic? “I didn’t expect to see you till supper,” she murmured.

“Fishin’ was a bust.” Then he glanced toward the saloon, but like everything else, it was closed on Sundays. She couldn’t believe plain boredom brought him to the schoolyard.

Rachel drew in a deep breath as she walked between two unhappy males. She ached to help both of them, but how? And was it her place? Within her power?