LisBeth nodded. “I’ll be there, Aunt Augusta. And I’m sure Mrs. Carter will come, too.”
“Good,” Carrie said earnestly, “‘The hand that rocks the cradle is the hand that rules the world.’ That’s a direct quote from one of our suffrage debates not long ago. What women care about is what gets cared about. We may not be able to vote yet, but that doesn’t mean we can’t participate in government.”
Augusta was already shuffling through her desk, locating pen and paper and making plans for her reception. She was discussing tea blends and cake selections when Jim began to chuckle. “If women do ever get the vote, heaven help us all. They already run things, anyway. Why bother with marching to make it official?”
LisBeth flushed angrily. “Jim Callaway! Shame on you! I’ve heard you say time and again that it’s a crime that Joseph Freeman can’t vote. You were so upset at Carrie’s debate tonight, you almost stormed the platform to take over for Carrie on behalf of the Indian. Why don’t you think women should vote? It’s a matter of simple justice, Jim. Just as Carrie said tonight.”
Carrie joined in. “Are women so inferior that you think different rules apply for them?”
“Don’t get steamed, you two. I didn’t mean it.”
LisBeth snorted, “You did mean it, Jim Callaway.”
Jim abruptly changed the subject. “Carrie, we forgot to ask you. Would you be interested in teaching a term next fall at the district just north of our place? Ben Carter said the present teacher has accepted a position back in Missouri. Like I said, the district can’t afford to pay much.”
Carrie interrupted. “The pay doesn’t have to be a lot, Jim. I’ve missed teaching. And I could use a change from the university. I’ll have to pray about it, but it sounds terrific.”
“You can board with us.” LisBeth offered. “We’d love to have you.”
LisBeth was unusually quiet for the rest of the evening. She went upstairs to bed long before Jim had concluded his agricultural discussions with Augusta. When Jim slipped into bed beside LisBeth, she kept her back turned to him and inched away towards the edge of the bed.
Jim put his hands behind his head and lay staring at the ceiling for a long time before saying, “I was glad to hear Carrie say she’d love to come to teach in the fall. She certainly has matured this past year. It was good to hear her talking about praying about a decision instead of just rushing into it. School has done wonders for her. She was superb at that debate tonight. I was as proud of her as if I were her older brother.”
Silence.
“She presented her case very well.”
Silence.
“She seems to have mellowed somewhat on the suffrage issue. Last year I thought she’d be out marching in the streets of Lincoln. She’s more settled, seems to have a better idea of what she wants for the future and seems really committed to following the Lord.”
Finally, Jim reached out to stroke LisBeth’s hair. “I’m sorry, LisBeth. What I said about the women’s vote was patronizing and hypocritical. Forgive me?” There was no response from the far edge of the bed. Jim moved closer. “I can only manage one cause at a time, though. Could women’s suffrage wait until we get support for the agricultural college? Then I’ll lead the parade through Lincoln if you want me to.”
He sensed a softening of the iron will lying at the edge of the bed. “I’ll write a confessional for the State Journal. ‘Idiotic Husband Sees the Light. Realizes Wife Has Brains. Desires to Borrow Some.’ ”
Muffled laughter made the bed shake slightly. Sensing victory, Jim laid a hand on LisBeth’s shoulder and moved closer. He whispered in her ear, “You can run for governor if you want to, Lizzie. Only forgive me.” He kissed her ear. “Let’s have a planning meeting.” He kissed her neck. “Tomorrow.”
Chapter 24
Trust in the Lord and do good. . . . Delight thyself also in the Lord; and he shall give thee the desires of thine heart. Commit thy way unto the Lord; trust also in him; and he shall bring it to pass.
Psalm 37:3–5
M iss Brown!” Silas Kellum called to Carrie, “There’s a letter here for Mr. and Mrs. Jim Callaway. Guess whoever wrote it didn’t know to send it to Roca. They have their own post office now. Aren’t you going down that way soon?”
“I’m leaving tomorrow, Silas,” Carrie answered, reaching for the letter and catching her breath when she saw the handwriting. “I’ll be happy to deliver it.” Carrie took the letter into her room, sitting on the edge of the bed with the letter in hand for a few moments before opening the lid of her trunk and laying it on top of the pile of books she had just recently packed.
The next day about noon, Jim Callaway arrived to take Carrie south to Roca. Sarah Biddle and Augusta Hathaway were on hand to bid Carrie good-bye.
“Now don’t you forget.” Augusta said. “Joseph or Asa will come whenever you want and fetch you back to Lincoln. If it doesn’t work out, you just get word to us and we’ll bring you right back here.”
“I’m sure it’ll work out. If I can handle an overgrown bunch of half-wild Sioux, I can surely meet the challenge presented by the agricultural community of Nebraska.”
Jim chuckled. “You’re beginning to sound mighty capable—and almost trail-worn, Miss Brown.”
Carrie kidded back. “As long as all they throw at me is garter snakes and toads, I’ll do fine, Jim. At least I think I will.”
“We’ll be down next weekend to visit,” Sarah said shyly. “Can’t stay away from J.W. Callaway for long. He’s growing up too quickly and we want to witness every new trick firsthand. Letters just don’t suffice.”
“Letters! Jim, there’s a letter from Soaring Eagle in my trunk. Silas Kellum gave it to me yesterday. Soaring Eagle must not know that Roca has its own post office. Does he write often?”
Jim shook his head. “Hope nothing’s wrong. Can’t remember the last time he wrote. LisBeth keeps him up-to-date on our news. But we don’t hear from him more than twice a year, if that.”
Carrie moved to climb into the wagon and get the letter, but Jim stopped her. “No need, Carrie. I wouldn’t read it without LisBeth, anyway. Letters are special to LisBeth. We’ll read it together when I get home. Just let it be.”
After a round of hugs and more promises to keep in touch, Carrie climbed up beside Jim for the two-hour ride south to the Callaway farm. Jim stopped on the way to show Carrie the schoolhouse, which was situated at the base of a hill. “Folks are gonna drag it to the top of that hill before fall,” Jim said.
When Carrie asked why, Jim shrugged. “I told ’em it’s a mistake. Too windy up there. But they want the schoolhouse up where the sound of the bell carries better. And,” he added with a smile, “the Smiths have all the money in the district and they’ve decided their kids have to walk too far. Said it’d be more ‘equitable’ if we move the schoolhouse a half mile southeast.”
The remainder of the ride to Roca was spent with Jim telling Carrie about the students she would likely see on her opening day at school. He ended his monologue with a warning about Ned Carter, Matthew Glenn, and a student named Philip, whose last name Carrie couldn’t remember.
As soon as they arrived at the homestead, Jim hurried inside to share Soaring Eagle’s letter with LisBeth.
Carrie followed him inside, calling out, “I’ll just get settled in my room, LisBeth—if Jim will carry the trunk in for me.”
“Nonsense, Carrie. You’re going to be part of our family. You don’t need to leave just because we’re reading a letter from Soaring Eagle. Heavens, he’s practically family to you too. Just sit down here and relax.” LisBeth waved Carrie into the parlor and began to read.
“The people grow dearer to me every day. The village has changed somewhat. A number of the people have moved farther up the river, and some of Walking Elk’s people have moved in. There are not so many people as there were earlier, but the village is still a large one. All seem very glad to have us here. We thank God for what He has done and pray that our lig
ht may so shine that many more of the people may see our good works and glorify our Father who is in Heaven.
Charity Bond has gone back to Santee, so that the work among the women is left to Martha Red Wing, which is a great burden to her. We pray that another woman will come soon to join Martha, who is very busy all the time.
If Carrie Brown comes to stay with you when she is teaching, please tell her that she is to ride Lakota so that the way is easier for her. Lakota is a very intelligent mare. She will learn the way to school and home quickly, so that if there is snow or rain, Red Bird can always trust Lakota to take her home.
I would like to see James Windrider. If God wills it I will come to you next spring so that he can see his Indian uncle and hear stories of his people. ”
Jim spoke up. “When he comes in the spring, he’ll have a new foal to train. Lakota should foal in April. Be sure to let him know when you write back. In the meantime,” Jim looked over at Carrie, “it looks like you won’t be needing to walk to school, after all—as if we would have expected you to.”
Carrie answered quickly, “It’s really kind of Soaring Eagle to think of me. I hope I can handle Lakota. I’m not the best rider. If you’ll excuse me, I need to get unpacked so I can help LisBeth with supper.” Carrie pushed herself away from the table and retreated to her room, sincerely hoping that her red cheeks had escaped LisBeth’s notice. Goodness, she thought, I thought I was over this foolishness. I haven’t really thought about Soaring Eagle for months, now. Carrie stopped in midthought. Not true, Carrie Brown. Not true. You haven’t spoken of Soaring Eagle for months. But you have thought about him —a lot.
Far to the north, in the Cheyenne River country, Soaring Eagle was also doing a great deal of thinking about a great many things, not the least of which was Miss Carrie Brown.
Her first day of school, Carrie once more looked up at more than half the class as they filed past her into the oneroom school. Standing behind her desk, she surveyed her class with honest terror, realizing that several of the older boys were not only much taller than their teacher, they were very nearly her age. They sat in the back row, obviously regretting their presence in school. Two older girls whispered quietly, alternately nudging one another and giggling at the faces made by a half-grown farm boy who sat across the row.
When Carrie cleared her throat to speak, the room grew deadly quiet. One of the boys scraped his heavy boots across the floor, barely managing to crowd his long legs under his desk. Carrie opened the drawer to her desk to retrieve a class roster and jumped backwards with a little “Oh!” The back row grinned in anticipation of the new teacher’s imminent demise.
“Thamnophis sirtalis sirtalis, ” Carrie said matter-of-factly. “Garter snake. Indigenous to the area.” Picking up the foot-long snake, Carrie let it curl around her fingers, slithering from one hand to the other and back again while she walked around her desk, relaxing visibly and smiling at the back row. “Non-poisonous. Excellent deterrent to insect pests in the garden.” Pausing, she surveyed her students. “Whose mother has the biggest garden?”
A hand went up, not surprisingly, in the back row. The male voice cracked in midsentence, precipitating a chorus of giggles from the female ranks. “Mine, ma’am. There’s ten of us boys. Takes a lot of garden to feed us.”
Carrie proceeded down the center aisle towards the back row. “Ten—all boys ?”
“Ten boys. One girl. My sister, Tess. She don’t come to school yet. Ma says she’s too little.”
“And what is your name, young man?”
“Carter. Ned Carter.”
“Well, Ned Carter, suppose you take this fellow home to your mama’s garden. When we’ve time to build a proper cage, perhaps you can bring him back and we’ll do a study of snakes. It’s called herpetology, and I’m sure all you older boys will enjoy it. When the time comes, you’ll have to bring us Pituophis melanoleucus sayi. A bull snake. A big one. Maybe three- or four-feet-long. I’ll let you know when.”
Ned Carter accepted the snake from Carrie’s outstretched hands. “Keep him in your desk, Ned. He’ll be fine until school lets out. Now,” Carrie turned and made her way back to the front of the room. “Just so you know,” she said, “My name is Miss Brown. I grew up among the Indians, and I learned to love snakes, and frogs, and mice. Love to play with them. In fact, I love just about everything that’s supposed to scare a teacher.”
She scowled briefly at the back row, and then broke into a radiant smile. “Now, I’m certain we’re going to get along fine. I don’t believe in whipping students, and I’m equally certain you young gentlemen don’t really believe in bullying young ladies. I’m sure we’ll get on. Let’s do roll call. I’m first. Miss Carrie Brown, teacher. Present.”
By noon, Carrie had learned her fifteen students’ names. She knew where they lived, what level they had reached in their lessons, and how many brothers and sisters they had. She didn’t know that during the lunch break, Ned Carter collected his cohorts Matthew Glenn and Philip Damrow and vowed to protect the new teacher from any more foolishness.
Swallowing a huge chunk of his lard sandwich, Ned said, “She’ll learn us good. Besides, we never had a pretty teacher before. Let’s keep her.”
Matt and Phil nodded their agreement and the club that had planned various acts of terrorism against the new teacher was summarily dissolved.
District 117 had children in every grade except one until the fourth week, when a towheaded little girl was dragged to school with her older brother. Ned Carter passed along his pa’s message. “Larn ’em and make ’em tough. If you have to, lick ’em, but larn ’em.”
Carrie welcomed Tess Carter warmly and soon discovered that no “lickings” would be necessary to “larn” the sweetest child she had ever met. Tess, age six, settled quietly onto the front row, unable to reach the floor with her feet until Carrie set the dictionary on the floor as a lift.
“Thanks, ma’am,” Tess whispered sincerely. Carrie leaned over and whispered back, “I learned to keep a dictionary or a step-stool in just about every room when I was growing up!”
“You ain’t growed up much, Teacher,” Tess said honestly.
Carrie grinned back. “You’re right about that, Tess. And I still keep dictionaries and footstools about!” Carrie winked at her new charge and called the first-year scholars to recite. When they stepped forward, she realized that Tess was mouthing everything with them. When questioned, Tess said, “Ned teached me my letters, ma’am. He draws ’em in the dirt and then I learns ’em.” Carrie made a mental note to work on grammar with Tess and Ned Carter, and then went on with the school day.
As the weeks passed, Carrie learned something about herself. She was a born teacher. She loved her students and loved preparing lessons. The few parents who had grumbled about Carrie’s lack of a university degree began to see the results of loving instruction and to dread the end of the term when Miss Brown would return to Lincoln.
When the fall term ended the students of District 117 invited their parents to an evening of recitations to exhibit their accomplishments. Carrie and the children worked together all day, cleaning and sweeping, making paper chains and adorning the room with bittersweet.
The evening of the program the students and their families filled every available inch of space inside the tiny schoolhouse. Each child presented a brief recitation. To close the evening, the students sang several Christmas carols. When Tess Carter got up and recited the entire first chapter of Luke, everyone burst into applause.
Jim Callaway leaned over to Carrie and whispered, “You larned ’em real good, Miss Brown.”
Carrie beamed with pride. Lord, she prayed silently, I think I finally know what I want to be when I grow up. I want to be a teacher.
Chapter 25
God thundereth marvellously with his voice; great things doeth he, which we cannot comprehend. For he saith to the snow, Be thou on the earth . . . And it is turned round about by his counsels: that they may do whatsoever he co
mmandeth them upon the face of the world in the earth. He causeth it to come, whether for correction, or for his land, or for mercy.
Job 37:5, 6, 12, 13
J anuary 12 dawned warm and beautiful. Huge flakes of snow drifted gently to the ground, but it was not cold, and Carrie decided to ride Lakota to school. The little mare snorted and shook her head playfully as Carrie saddled her.
“We’ll have a fine ride this morning, Lakota,” Carrie said. “And then I’ll get to hear Tess Carter recite. You should hear her, Lakota. She already knows the entire Gettysburg address. She stands with her hands clasped in front of her, so serious you’d think she was ending the war herself by what she says. She’s just too adorable for words.”
Riding out of the farmyard, Carrie urged Lakota to a gallop. The mare responded willingly to the idea of a morning run, making her way down the road until Carrie impulsively urged her to hop a board fence and take the remaining two miles to the schoolhouse through pastureland.
Lakota trotted to the top of the hill where the schoolhouse had only recently been moved. Carrie dismounted, surprised to see smoke emerging from the chimney. At the sound of Lakota’s stomping and snorting, Ned Carter came to the schoolhouse door. “I’ll hobble Lakota for you, Miss Brown,” he offered. “I came early to start the fire.”
“Thank you, Ned.” Carrie slid down off Lakota’s back smiling. “Are you trying to get on the teacher’s good side? If you are, starting the fire is a great way to do it!”
Carrie went inside, hanging her coat just inside the door and proceeding to her desk where Tess Carter had left a slate bidding “Miss Brown, Good morning.” Carrie looked up from her desk just in time to see Tess scamper outside. She began to ready the day’s lessons. Only about a dozen children came that day.
Red Bird (Prairie Winds Book 2) Page 19
