His Prairie Sweetheart

by Erica Vetsch

  Rut rolled out of her side of the bed and plucked her dress off a peg. She glanced over her shoulder with a quick smile, said something Savannah couldn’t understand and began dressing. Savannah slipped from beneath the quilt, ducking to avoid hitting her head on the steeply sloped roof. She wrapped herself in the shawl she’d laid close to hand the night before, and searched through her luggage until she found the valise she thought contained her most serviceable skirts and blouses.

  Rut tapped Savannah’s shoulder, raised her eyebrows and pointed to the buttons up the back of her dress. “Vennligst?”

  “Oh, of course.” Savannah began to do them up for the little girl. Through the curtain that divided the room came rustling and bumping, followed by clattering down the steep staircase.

  Rut soon followed, leaving Savannah some privacy in which to dress and fix her hair. She found herself banging her elbows on the roof, barking her shins on the many boxes and bags, and struggling in the cramped space to find what she needed. She would have to bring some organization to her possessions if she was really going to spend the school year here.

  She paused. Of course she was going to spend the school year here. She’d signed a contract, given her word. And besides, admitting defeat before she even started wasn’t her way. Why, Aunt Carolina would never let her live it down if she quit this soon.

  Shaking out a tan-and-blue-plaid blouse with a minimum of lace, she paired it with a businesslike brown skirt. The severe lines of the front fall and the spare draping and gathering to the bustle would surely be suitable for a schoolteacher. Digging farther, she found the box containing her new, high-topped black boots, the most serviceable footgear she’d ever purchased. Almost no heel, sturdy laces and dull black leather. Savannah wrinkled her nose as she stuck her boot-clad foot out and surveyed the results. Her sisters would laugh.

  Fully dressed, she eased down the precipitous staircase into the kitchen. Mrs. Halvorson stood at the cupboard slicing bread, her back to Savannah. There was no sign of the children, and Savannah didn’t know how to ask where they’d gone. How was she ever going to survive here when she couldn’t talk to anyone?

  Except Elias Parker, who thought she should be sent back where she came from before “big, bad Minnesota” did her in. Savannah grimaced and pushed Elias to the back of her mind.

  “God morgen.”

  Mrs. Halvorson’s greeting pulled Savannah out of her thoughts, and after a pause, she replied, “Good morning, Mrs. Halvorson.”

  The woman beamed and pointed to herself. “Agneta.”

  “Good morning, Agneta. Please, call me—” she put her hand on her chest “—Savannah.”

  “Sa-vah-nah.”

  “Yes.”

  Agneta reached into the sideboard and handed her some cutlery, then motioned to the table. Grateful for a job to do, Savannah set the table, taking the stoneware plates from the shelf where she’d seen Agneta put them after washing up last night. As she found tin cups, Agneta beamed and nodded. Again this morning she had her braids crisscrossed atop her head, giving her a girlish appearance. Her apron covered most of her dress and had been embroidered with cheerful yellow-and-red flowers along the hem.

  Just as Savannah placed the last cup, Lars and Rut came in. Lars carried a small pail of milk, which he handed to his mother before washing up at the basin beside the door. Agneta took the milk, poured some through a piece of cheesecloth into a pitcher, then the rest into a pair of shallow pans on the sideboard. Per Halvorson came in and opened the door that went into the dugout portion of the dwelling. A dank, cool, earthy smell rolled out, and Agneta carried the pans inside.

  The children tugged out the bench and sat at the table. Savannah took the place she’d occupied the night before, and when everyone was seated, Per bowed his head. Though she couldn’t understand the words, Savannah was grateful. At least she had been placed with a family that prayed together.

  A small wave of homesickness crept into her heart. This morning, Aunt Carolina, Aunt Georgette and Savannah’s sisters would be sitting on the back veranda sharing breakfast. The girls would be home from the Minton Ladies’ Academy for the weekend. The day would include shopping and tea downtown, perhaps a few calls upon friends. The evening would hold a symphony concert, or a stroll through the city gardens, or buggy rides with some of the young men in their set.

  “Sa-vah-nah?”

  She looked up. Agneta held a plate of thinly sliced meat for her.

  “Oh, I beg your pardon.” She took a piece of the meat and passed the plate to Rut. Bread followed.

  Sandwiches for breakfast? She had to expect that, along with the language, the customs and food would be different. With a slight shrug and a mental note to do everything she could to blend in to her new surroundings, Savannah buttered her bread and slid the meat between the two slices.

  Rut giggled and Lars stared.

  Savannah stopped, her food inches from her lips. “What?”

  Agneta scolded the children, who had the grace to look abashed. They fell to eating, and Savannah noticed that they placed their meat atop the bread and ate it with a fork. Open-faced sandwiches.

  Heat prickled her skin, and she slid her top piece of bread aside and picked up her fork. Painfully aware that she’d made some social gaffe, she found her appetite had fled.

  The Halvorsons spoke little during meals, and as soon as they’d finished eating, they sprang up. Agneta pointed to Rut and Lars, then a large basket beside the door. She showed Savannah the contents: a scrub brush, soap, rags...cleaning supplies. Agneta waved in the direction of the school, made a wiping motion with one of the rags and pointed to Savannah and the children.

  “Oh, thank you.” Savannah had wondered about how to get the school clean and ready for Monday. Evidently, Agneta had thought ahead.

  They went by road instead of cutting across the fields, which were high with corn and wheat. Lars brought along a small bucket of water, and Savannah couldn’t think why, since she had noticed a pump right by the school. Rut and Savannah carried the basket between them, and Rut chattered the entire time, as if Savannah could understand her perfectly. Evidently, she thought total immersion into the language was the best way to teach Savannah Norwegian.

  The belfry appeared first over the waving corn, then the white school building. A horse and buckboard stood out front, and someone sat on the steps. A loud bark erupted and a furry streak shot toward them, bounding and wagging and wiggling.

  The collie, Captain. Lars set his bucket down, dropped to his knees and embraced the dog.

  Elias rose from the porch, long and lean, his hat pushed back, revealing his dark hair. “Morning.”

  Savannah and Rut arrived together, and they set the basket on the ground. Rut clattered up the steps and took Elias’s hand, swinging on it as she gazed up with bright eyes. He winked at her.

  “Thought I’d come and make sure there isn’t anything that needs fixing, broken boards or loose hinges.” He motioned to a small toolbox he’d brought. “With the place sitting empty for so many months, there’s bound to be some issues.”

  Savannah nodded, unsure if she was glad or annoyed. With him here at least he could translate for the children, but it felt almost as if he didn’t think she was even up to the task of sweeping out the school without his supervision.

  Entering the school, she was again hit with the smells of dust and stale air. She moved to the closest window and tugged on the sash. It didn’t budge. Glancing over her shoulder to make sure no one was watching, she looked for a lock, but there didn’t seem to be one. Savannah braced herself, pressing the heels of her hands against the frame, and pushed again. With a groan, the window came up an inch and stuck.

  “Here, let me help you with that.” Before she could move out of his way, Elias stood behind her, his arms coming up on either side. He raised the window with
ridiculous ease, but all Savannah could think was that he smelled like shaving soap.

  She wanted to bolt. One of the things she had loved about Girard was the smell of his shaving soap. Her chest ached and her breath snagged as she closed her eyes against the now familiar pain of his desertion.

  “Are you all right?” Elias asked.

  Her eyes popped open and warmth flooded her cheeks. “Um...yes. Just...” She stopped, unwilling to reveal that much about herself. “I was debating where to start on the cleaning. I think I’ll work from the top down. Cobwebs first.” She glanced at the dusty webs along the ceiling and in the corners, trying to gather her composure. When would she stop feeling so raw? When would the hurt ease?

  Girard, you’ve left me in a shambles. Even though I wouldn’t have you back if you came gift-wrapped with a guarantee, I can’t help feeling the loss, the hole you created in my life, in my heart.

  Elias said, “I’ll open the rest of the windows, then you should come out with me to see how to work the pump. You’re going to need plenty of water for scrubbing today.”

  “I know how to pump water.” Indignation colored her tone. Her foundations were crumbling enough without him assuming she was an idiot.

  “I imagine you do.” He shoved up another window sash, letting in the morning breeze. “But this pump is a bit temperamental. Best you let me show you the right way.”

  As if there was a wrong way to draw water. “I know you think I’m a simpleton, but I assure you, I have reached the age of twenty-one without your help and oversight. I can operate a simple water pump.”

  He stopped pushing up the next window, his hands dropping to his sides. “All right. How about you show me then?”

  “Fine.” She stalked into the cloakroom, snatched the empty bucket from under the water crock and strode outside. Lars still tumbled with the dog in the long grass, but Rut was already busy with a broom, sweeping the steps.

  Savannah kept her chin in the air as she rounded the building, aware of Elias behind her. The pump stood twenty yards to the west of the schoolhouse, surrounded by a wooden platform. Sunshine had warped the boards a bit and a few nails stuck up, pulled loose by the wood shrinking over time. She dropped the bucket beneath the spout with a clank and grabbed the iron handle.

  Up, down, up, down. Though she pulled and pushed with all her might and the pump squealed and squeaked, no water came out. Elias stood to the side, arms crossed, face bland. Savannah blew a few wisps of hair off her forehead, regripped the cold iron and tugged with vigor.

  Still nothing.

  She let her hands drop. An uncomfortable prickling raced across her skin. She couldn’t even pump water. What was wrong with the wretched thing? What was she doing here?

  Slowly, she forced herself to look Elias in the eye, prepared for his gloating. He would have every right, since she’d shoved his offer of help back into his face.

  “Are you done?” He had one eyebrow raised, the very picture of long-suffering patience.

  Nodding, she stepped back. He turned and put his fingers to his lips, letting out a piercing whistle that brought both children and the dog at a run. A couple of quick words to Lars in Norwegian had the boy running back to the school and returning with the small pail he’d brought from home.

  “This pump hasn’t been used in a while, and like I said, it’s temperamental. You have to prime it with a little water, even if it’s only been a couple of days. Always remember to fill a bucket on Friday afternoon before you leave, so it will be ready for Monday morning.” He took the pail of water from Lars and poured it carefully into the top of the pump, working the handle gently at first.

  When the water from the pail had disappeared, he gave half a dozen strong pulls on the handle and was rewarded with a gush of water from the spout. He filled the larger bucket, but dumped it on the grass in a rusty, brown arc. After another bucketful, the water ran clear and clean.

  Savannah forced herself to remember her manners. “Thank you for your help, Mr. Parker.” Her lips were stiff, and straight vinegar tasted better than this particular slice of humble pie, but she got the words out.

  He shook his head. “The kids can help you inside. I’ll sluice down the privies and make sure the lean-to and corral are tight while you clean. If you need anything—not that I’m assuming you will.” He held up his hands. “But if you do, holler.”

  He strode across the grass, leaving Savannah staring after him. His walk was powerful, his upper body swaying slightly, his arms swinging. Girard had been graceful, with a long, easy stride and loose limbs, but he lacked Elias’s muscular shoulders and chest, tending more to the lean side in build. More intellectual than physical. Everything about Elias Parker spoke of hard work and capability.

  But he wasn’t to be trusted. No man was. Elias offered help one moment, but in the next, let her know he was certain she would fail. Girard had asked her to marry him, but at the last moment, he’d fled rather than go through with the wedding.

  Even her father wasn’t reliable, never home for more than a week at a time, always traveling, always putting business first.

  No, a woman shouldn’t put her trust in a man. She was better off on her own.

  It might be lonely, but it was better than a broken heart.

  * * *

  Trust a woman to kill herself just to prove a man wrong. Elias hammered another nail into the corral fence, jerking the board to make sure it was tight. Savannah Cox had scrubbed and polished and sorted and cleaned all morning without a break and without a word.

  She’d feel it tomorrow, he figured. No way was she used to hauling buckets of water or washing windows or scrubbing floors. Not with her manners and clothes and all.

  Elias picked up his toolbox. His brother had better appreciate this.

  Miss Cox headed back to the pump with another bucket. She’d shed her jacket and rolled up her sleeves, making her look a little more approachable. Water gushed from the pump and hit the bucket, tipping it over. Elias chuckled as she righted the pail and held it up with her foot. Why didn’t she use the knob on top of the spout like a normal person?

  Probably because she didn’t know sic ’em from c’mere when it came to practical matters. She hadn’t even known how to prime a pump in the first place. He’d had to force himself not to laugh out loud at her consternation. And her apology had nearly choked her.

  Still, she had apologized, which was more than some folks would’ve done. He watched her tote the full water bucket, leaning away from the weight as she hefted it up the stairs and into the schoolhouse.

  Captain lay in the shade beside the porch, but he sat up when Elias drew near. “Hey, Cap. You’re sure working hard.” The dog trotted over and put his nose under Elias’s hand, inviting a pat. “Shall we go in and see the progress?”

  Captain’s nails clicked on the entryway floor, and the smells of vinegar and soap prickled Elias’s nose.

  “Don’t bring him in here.” Savannah knelt in one of the doorways into the schoolroom, a scrub brush in her hand and a pail of soapy water on one side, a bucket of clean water on the other. “Dogs don’t belong inside, and if he marks up this floor, you’re going to be the one scrubbing it next.”

  Still touchy.

  Elias put his hand on Captain’s ruff. “Sorry, boy, the boss has spoken. Outside.” He pointed to the door and snapped his fingers. Captain gave him a sorrowful look but turned around, clicking his way out.

  Elias went to the other doorway and surveyed her progress, inhaling the aromas of lemon polish and lye, vinegar and ammonia. Every surface gleamed. She’d accomplished more than he’d thought she would.

  Stubborn or efficient? Maybe both?

  Savannah dipped her scrub brush in the bucket again, scooting backward toward the door. The boar-bristle brush scraped against the floorboards in rhythmic circles
. She rinsed with a cloth from the clean-water pail. The floor glistened damply, but when it dried, it would be dull until she waxed it properly.

  The bow on her apron, so perky this morning, had gone limp. Her rolled up sleeves revealed pale, slender arms. The brush looked too big for her small hand, and her neat hairdo had become a bit bedraggled, with wisps escaping the braided knot at the back of her head.

  “Where did the kids get off to?”

  She wiped her forearm across her brow, sitting back on her heels. “I sent them on home. They worked hard all morning, and there wasn’t much left for them to do once I started on the floors.”

  Flo-ahs. Why was it that every Southerner made one-syllable words into two? Still, it sounded kind of cute when she did it.

  “I mended the corral fence and tightened a couple of loose boards on the privies. And I took a scythe to the grass. You won’t have to mow here. Tyler has a contract with Ole Oleson to cut it once school starts. There’s some hay in the shed, but a couple of the farmers will deliver more soon. And Tyler will see that coal’s delivered before it gets cold. The coal shed is a lean-to on the back of the schoolhouse, but you have to go outside to get to it.” He pointed to the coal hod by the stove. “Usually, one of the older boys is in charge of keeping the stove supplied, but you’ll have to light the fire in the mornings.”

  “I saw that on the list of teachers’ duties.” She switched arms for scrubbing, her movements slower.

  “Is there anything inside that needs fixing? Might as well tend to it while I’m here.” He held up his toolbox. “Any loose floorboards or wobbly desks?”

  She scooted the buckets backward the last few feet, and he edged back through the doorway. With a couple swipes, she finished the floor. He reached for her elbow to help her up, an instinctive gesture. Her skin was soft and warm, and so smooth, as if it had never seen the sun, never been scoured by cold wind. As delicate as a flower petal.

  When she was on her feet, she eased her arm from his grasp, rolling down her sleeves and buttoning the cuffs. “There is one thing that needs fixin’.”