The Midwife's Tale (34 page)

The following day, Martha covered the rest of the homesteads along Double Trouble Creek. She did not find any potential candidates responsible for the thefts, but she found plenty of
trouble brewing, as if the thief had heavily targeted the families there to make the name of the creek seem more than apropos.

Public sentiment against the academy appeared to be much stronger than she had feared, given all she’d learned in the past two days. The town meeting tomorrow evening promised to be a raucous event. She did not envy Sheriff Myer his job that night, and Thomas would have no easier time as mayor. According to James, who had many good opportunities to overhear tavern gossip, Thomas had gone to York on Monday, but everyone expected him to be back in time for the meeting.

Whether or not Webster Cabbot would even approach the sheriff by then was still a mystery to her. Even if he did, the sheriff might be too busy calming the audience to even broach the matter of Burton Andrews’s innocence. Regardless, she planned to be there.

Anxious to resolve the growing doubt in her own mind about the academy, she arrived there in late afternoon. Her one and only visit to the old Rhule homestead had been in the dead of night, and she studied the property now with the advantage of daylight.

The small farmhouse appeared ramshackle, at best. Weathered, peeling clapboards begged for a fresh coat of whitewash. How the barn did not collapse was utterly amazing. Missing timbers left gaping holes in the walls, and the roof sagged low, as if it had borne one winter too many of heavy snow. There were no crops planted at this time of year, of course, but the livestock, a collection of a few mangy chickens, pigs, and one skinny cow, seemed grossly inadequate to support the number of people who now made this their home.

She dismounted and approached the farmhouse on foot. When the door opened, Olympia waved a friendly welcome and turned away for a moment. Within seconds, two boys scampered
outside and ran to meet her. “Afternoon. We’ll see your horse gets some water,” the taller boy offered.

She could not remember his name, but she recognized his pudgy face. The other boy held back, his gaze riveted on Grace. The mare snorted and tugged at the reins.

“Be polite,” she warned. She handed the reins to the younger boy. “Her name is Grace. Treat her gently. I’ll only be a little while.”

“Yes, ma’am. Come on, Grace. Easy, girl,” he murmured, and offered his companion a funny face only a young boy could make and sauntered off.

Olympia wiped her hands on her apron and walked out to greet her guest. “Martha! What a surprise. I was just making biscuits. You’ll stay for supper, won’t you?”

“I’d love to, but I really can’t. I need to get home in time to relieve Mrs. Welsh and stay with Mrs. Armstrong. She’s doing poorly.”

“Then at least come in and have some hot cider. I just set a pan on the stove. Ulysses should be back soon. He took the older boys for supplies,” she offered as she led Martha into the kitchen. She moved a bowl aside and wiped the flour from the table. “Let me clean a place for you while you take off your cape.”

“Please don’t go to any bother—”

“It’s no trouble at all. We don’t get many visitors,” she insisted.

By the time Martha had removed her outerwear and sat down, Olympia had two steaming mugs of cider on the table and a plate of molasses cookies set between them. Martha stirred her cider with a cinnamon stick and waited for the beverage to cool. “I hope Reverend Hampton doesn’t meet up with any trouble in town.”

A frown. “More thefts?”

Martha nodded. “I was hoping they’d stop. Folks are pretty upset. We’re just not used to something like this happening in Trinity.”

“The good Lord will set things right.”

“Until He does,” Martha cautioned, “I’m afraid your boys will be taking the brunt of people’s anger and frustration.”

“We feared as much,” Olympia admitted. Her gaze grew troubled. “Ulysses has such faith in these boys, but he’s not as young as he thinks he is. I don’t know what he’d do if . . . if . . .”

“I wouldn’t worry just yet. Sheriff Myer is working very hard to put an end to the problem. For now, the best thing we can do is pray he’ll find the real culprit. In the meantime, it might be a good idea for Reverend Hampton to come to the town meeting tomorrow night, if only to convince people he’s as concerned as everyone else.”

“A town meeting?”

Martha sipped her cider, burned the tip of her tongue, and set the mug away from her. “Seven o’clock. At the meetinghouse. I’ll be there, too, of course. I’m sure Fern and Ivy will be there.” She placed her hand on Olympia’s arm. “You do have friends here.”

Olympia’s eyes misted with tears. “Ulysses is much stronger than I am. I simply can’t bear to think about all the awful things people are saying about the boys. To give up now, after we’ve worked so hard, just because of malicious gossip . . .”

The sound of an approaching wagon turned Olympia’s frown into a smile. “That must be him now. Let me tell him you’re here for a visit so the boys can unload the supplies for him.” She hurried outside and returned with her husband long moments later.

Reverend Hampton removed his hat and coat and joined Martha at the table. “It’s good to see you again. Olympia tells me there’s trouble brewing again.”

“Unfortunately, that’s true.”

He scratched the crown of his bald head. “I thought we’d made some progress.”

“You did,” Martha assured him. “We just need to calm people’s fears—”

“About the academy.”

She nodded. “Did you have any problems in town today?”

“Actually, we went to Sunrise. I had to make a withdrawal at the bank, so we got our supplies there. What time is the town meeting?”

“Seven o’clock,” she responded as she mulled over his admission that he had gone to Sunrise for supplies. In point of fact, she could not recall a single instance when he had come to Trinity for supplies and wondered why he had not taken the opportunity to visit the town from time to time to support the local merchants there, especially when he was so anxious to dispel their concerns about the boys at the academy.

“I’ll be there. We’ll all be there. Might as well let the boys see what they’re up against.”

Visions of irate citizens clamoring for justice with their primary suspects in the same room made Martha tremble, along with visions of similar scenarios that might have developed if Reverend Hampton had brought the boys into town today for supplies. “It’s bound to be rather loud, even raucous. I’m not sure you’d want the boys to see and hear all that. It might be better if you came alone. Look for me, though. I’ll try to save you a seat up front.”

“I should bow to your judgment,” he conceded, “especially after the turnabout Boy has made, all thanks to you.”

“Samuel should get the credit for that,” she insisted, finding it curious he still did not refer to Will by his given name. “I stopped to see them on Sunday.” She recounted her visit, leaving out only the incident about discovering the watch. “You
can see the worship in his eyes when he looks at Samuel,” she concluded.

Olympia set a mug of cider in front of her husband. “He rushes through his lessons at night just to have more time to practice those knots. He’s even got Adam and P. J. trying to make them.”

Reverend Hampton chuckled. “Hearing tales of the sea and exploring real treasure chests is like a dream come true for Boy.”

“That’s the dream, isn’t it?” Martha whispered. “To reach into each boy’s mind and heart to find something to breathe life into his dreams so he wants to learn and grow into a righteous man?”

“That’s the dream. But dreams take time,” he argued. “Unless I can convince the people of Trinity we are doing God’s work with these boys, monitoring them even more closely than before to make sure they don’t slip back into bad habits, then we won’t get the time we need to help each and every one of them like we’ve helped Boy.”

“Then we simply must get the time,” she insisted. There were few men who would be ready and willing to challenge an entire community for the sake of boys no one else wanted. Reverend Hampton was one of those few, and Martha would not stand idly by to let him wage this battle alone. Even if he did seem a bit too saintly at times, he was only a man—a man who needed help.

“I’ll help you. I know others who will help, too,” she promised. Whatever plans she had had for tomorrow quickly evaporated. First thing in the morning, she would call on folks she knew would support the academy, if only as a balance against those who wanted the academy to close.

27

E
ven the best-knitted intentions could unravel.

By late Thursday afternoon, Martha’s last-minute plan to encourage some of her friends and neighbors to attend the town meeting and support the academy was nothing more than a skein of good intentions that tangled her hopes with disappointment.

Thursday had dawned with her promise to herself and Reverend Hampton still very real and within reach by sunset. Before she had finished her breakfast, Jacob Ward had arrived. She had spent the entire day with three of his children and treated them for what she suspected was whooping cough. By the time she returned home at dusk, the treatments had taken a toll on her, as well as on her patients.

Setting up steam tents to help clear their lungs left her feeling a bit wilted herself. The hair framing her face had slipped free, curling in several different directions. No matter how tight she pulled her cape on the way home, she could still smell the reek of garlic that had permeated her gown and every square inch
of uncovered flesh. To make matters worse, she had stubbed her baby toe not once, but twice, in her haste to answer Jacob’s knock at the door in her bare feet. She had bandaged the toe before she left, vowing to empty her entire room, if necessary, to find those missing slippers of hers.

Riding ten miles each way to the Ward homestead had been painful, and she limped back into her room now in a cranky mood. When Bird squawked for his supper, she scowled. “You’ll have to wait. And stop flapping around like that! You’ll break your other wing, too, and then where will you be? In more trouble than you’ve bargained for,” she grumbled.

He scrambled to the top perch and squawked again.

She ignored him, stored her bag away, and hung up her outerwear. She took one look in the mirror, sighed, and let her shoulders slump. Barring a miracle, she was destined to show up at the town meeting—which was scheduled to begin in less than an hour—looking like an old hag and smelling just as bad, too.

She started when the connecting door to her room opened.

Lydia poked her head inside. “James set the brass tub in the storeroom for you, and I added the hot water after I saw you ride by. If you hurry, you’ll have plenty of time to eat something before you go, too.”

Martha was too exhausted to care that her tears trickled down her cheeks. “You’re such a blessing!”

Her sister-in-law chuckled. “Tell James, will you? He’s miffed at me. Just a little,” she added when Martha frowned.

“Is there anything else I can do?” Martha asked.

Lydia wrinkled her nose. “Probably not. He’s back to thinking about moving again. It’s nearly winter. He does it every year. I should know better than to argue with him. By spring, he always changes his mind.”

Martha laughed. “James is a lot like Grandfather. He always dreamed of selling the tavern and moving into a small cabin on the shores of Candle Lake, too. Don’t worry. The first person who has the misfortune to offer James a fair price for the tavern will find out James will do exactly what Grandfather Poore did—run the poor soul out of the tavern without bothering to collect the man’s coins for his refreshments.”

“I should let him follow his dream,” Lydia admitted. “As long as it stays just that—a dream. Living that far from town appeals to me about as much as eating raw fish.”

James’s voice bellowed from the kitchen. “Lydia? We’ve got hungry patrons waiting!”

“I’ve got to go. Now, hurry. Your water is getting cold. I’ll lock the other storeroom door so you can bathe in privacy.” She giggled and closed the door.