by Jane Peart
It would only be until spring, she encouraged herself. The school year in Riverbend only went until the first of May; then Holly would make plans to go home to Willow Springs.
Chapter 14
The second week of school had gone incredibly well, Holly thought, as she stood at the schoolhouse door on Friday afternoon, watching the last group of children leave the play yard and start their meandering way home. None were in any hurry, probably because they knew the chores that awaited them there.
Little Joel McKay and his sister, Cissy, were the last to leave. Cissy turned at the gate to wave one more time to Holly before hurrying to catch up with her brother. These two had already made inroads into Holly's affection. Skinny and under-sized for their ages, with threadbare clothes and bare feet. She worried about them now especially when early fall frost covered the grass.
Holly was just about to close the door when she saw a familiar small buggy and horse coming down the road toward the schoolhouse. Her heart gave an unexpected little leap as the buggy turned into the schoolyard. Blaine! she thought happily.
He reined up in front of the porch, leaned out, and greeted her. "Well, Miss Schoolmarm, how's it going?"
She placed a hand on her breast and heaved a dramatic sigh. "Better than I had any right to expect!" she admitted with a laugh.
He reached into a basket beside him on the floor of the buggy then held out his hand, "An apple for the teacher?" he grinned, opening his palm revealing a round bright red apple.
"Why, thank you, Blaine!" Holly took it and dropped a curtsy.
"Thank the Fosters; they gave me a whole bushel in payment for taking care of their last baby," Blaine laughed.
"Ummm, delicious!" Holly said as her white teeth bit into the rosy skin and took a bite of the sweet, tart fruit.
"Know someone who can bake a superior pie? I can't possibly eat all of these myself."
Holly thought a moment, then warned laughingly, "Well, don't look at me, Blaine, I never was able to get the crust right. But I was thinking you could leave some of the apples here to share with the children. Some of them seem to forget to bring lunch sometimes or else come without it, and it would be nice to have something on hand for them to eat."
"Good idea!" agreed Blaine. "I'll bring the basket inside for you." He got out of the buggy and led his horse over to the edge of the yard where there was some scraggly long grass for him to nibble on; then he lifted out the split-oak basket of apples and carried them into the schoolroom.
Holly held the door open for him and he set them down behind the teacher's desk.
"I'd say it's more likely some of them come without lunch because there isn't enough in the larder at home to spare," Blaine told her frowning. "A few of the families around here have quite a struggle to make a go of it. A lot of folks came out here from the East without much farming experience, just wanted to get a new start, maybe; when offered land to homestead they grabbed on to it. Turned out to be a lot harder than they had any idea it would be—"
"The proverbial Promised Land?" Holly commented.
"Something like that." Blaine shook his head. "Only for some of them it hasn't worked out all that well."
Then turning to Holly, his serious expression was replaced by an engaging smile. "Since this is Friday and the youngsters get a holiday from school on weekends, so how about the teacher? What would you say to going on that picnic we talked about, tomorrow?"
"Oh, yes, I'd love that."
"While this weather holds—it might be really nice farther up on the river—I might even do a little fishing. That is if you wouldn't object?"
"Object? I like to fish myself; my Grandfather used to take me fishing with him. And I've caught a few nice trout myself a time or two!" Holly gave her head a little toss.
"Were you a tomboy, Miss Lambeth?"
"You might say that, Doctor." She lowered her voice conspiratorially. "Would you believe that my mother quite gave up on me several times! She would say to my grandfather, 'Papa, how do you expect me to bring Hollis up a lady if you keep encouraging her this way?'"
"Well, I'd say she managed to do that just fine," Blaine commented as he gazed at Holly appreciatively, adding with a mischievous grin, "But then I've never seen you with a fishing pole, have I?"
"You'll have your chance tomorrow."
As they walked back to the door she asked, "What about the picnic food? What shall I bring?"
"Yourself. I'll provide most of it." He held up his hand when she started to protest. "Really, most of my patients pay me in wonderful ways—you'll see." He went down the steps. At the bottom he turned and looked up at her. "So, then, I'll come by—say ten o'clock tomorrow morning?"
"Yes, fine."
Blaine started walking to where he had left the buggy, and Holly's eyes followed him. If she planned to stay in Riverbend, Holly could not think of a nicer "beau" than Blaine—good-looking if not handsome, intelligent, gentle, and with a fine sense of humor—but then, she amended quickly, she wasn't planning to stay. There was certainly no point getting any ideas about the doctor.
True to his word, Blaine arrived promptly at ten next morning, and Holly was ready and waiting in a blue calico dress with a pattern of tiny flowers, her hair out of its coil and gathered with a blue ribbon at the nape of her neck.
"I feel like a kid playing hooky from school!" he told her as he helped her into his small gig, picked up the reins and they started off.
"But that's impossible! You're with the 'schoolmarm'!" Holly laughed gaily.
"That's right! I almost forgot or else you don't seem like a schoolteacher to me!" he looked at Holly, thinking how lovely she looked with the sun's sending dancing gold lights through her hair, the rose color of her softly curved cheeks. "You see, Miss Lambeth, I never had such a pretty teacher as you when I went to school."
"Why, thank you for the compliment, sir," Holly replied. "It's hard for me to believe, too. I never thought I'd end up a schoolteacher."
"What do you mean 'end up'?"
Holly hesitated. Surely she didn't know Blaine well enough to reveal her sorry story, to tell him that by this time she had expected to be an Army officer's bride, not teaching school in a frontier town. No, she couldn't confess her humiliating experience of being jilted. Instead, she answered, "I just never planned to teach school. It just never occurred to me that I would. But I'm discovering as they say that 'life is full of surprises,' right?"
Blaine gave her a searching glance as if he knew she was holding something back, but he didn't ask anything more. Instead, he spoke of himself. "I always wanted to be a doctor. My uncle was a doctor and as a little boy I used to go with him in his buggy when he made his calls. The whole idea of being skilled enough to help people when they were hurt or ill seemed a great way to spend my life."
"From what I hear, Riverbend is very lucky to have you."
Blaine shrugged, "I'm just glad I can be of use." Then he changed the subject. "I'm going to pull off the road here, we'll have to leave the buggy and walk down to the river bank. I started to get another horse from the livery stable and a sidesaddle for you to bring out, but I didn't know whether or not you rode. Do you?"
"Yes."
"Next time, we'll do that. Then we can ride right to our picnic spot."
Holly felt a little spurt of pleasure that Blaine had said "next time."
Blaine unhitched the horse and led him over to a shady spot to graze, tying him loosely to a small aspen. Then he got the wicker hamper and his fishing gear from the back of the buggy and said, "Come on, it's not far."
It could not have been a more beautiful day for a picnic. Holly had never seen deep forests like these in Oregon. She loved the feel of the pine needles under her feet like a soft brown carpet on the path through the woods to the river. The sun was warm on their backs as they came to a clearing overlooking the clear, rock-rimmed river. They both stood for a moment, savoring the quiet, the only sound being the rush of the water below, the gentle swi
sh of wind high above in the trees.
Blaine set down the picnic basket, and Holly spread out the blanket for them to sit on. It was so lovely and peaceful that neither of them spoke for a few minutes.
"Are you hungry? Or do you want to try your luck at fishing first?" Blaine asked after awhile.
She considered her choices, then said, "Eat? I am rather hungry."
"Good! So am I." Blaine opened the hamper and began putting out the food.
"My goodness, such a lot!" Holly exclaimed.
"I have a lot of grateful patients!" he laughed as he continued bringing out a loaf of home-baked bread, sliced ham, a chocolate cake, and peach pie.
Holly opened her own much smaller basket and brought out her contribution. "And I have a lot of grateful students! Or at least their mothers are!" she announced putting down a daintily arranged plate of deviled eggs and a square of gingerbread. Blaine looked surprised, and Holly explained, "Danny Glenn's mother sends me a dozen eggs every week, and Geneva Healy always bakes something extra for me on her baking day."
"If I were the suspicious type I'd say some of your pupils are angling for good grades," he commented as he sampled one of the eggs.
"And it pays, doesn't it?"
"Hmmm." Blaine rolled his eyes as he popped the rest of the egg into his mouth, then licked his fingers. "I'd give them all A's for sure."
They made sandwiches of the ham and thickly buttered bread, drank the lemonade, and finished with cake.
"What a feast!" declared Blaine, leaning back against a large rock, his arms folded beneath his head. "It's a real treat for me, I can tell you. I usually get my meals at the Hometown Cafe, and believe me, I don't know whose hometown they're advertising with that name, because the food leaves a great deal to be desired."
"Well, maybe we should go on picnics more often!" Holly quipped then blushed. Immediately she wished she hadn't said that. It was the sort of thing the "old Holly" would say, coy and flirtatious. Wasn't she done with that sort of foolishness? She hoped Blaine wouldn't take it wrong. She looked over at him. His eyes were closed. He seemed to be entirely relaxed, maybe even dozing.
Holly got up and walked over to the edge of the river and looked down at the clear, sun-dappled water. How peaceful, how beautiful it was. She felt a kind of awe at the splendor of this country. The surprising thought came to her of how lucky she was to be here. She couldn't remember ever having been so touched by the majesty of natural beauty before. Maybe she really was changing, becoming a different kind of person. Someone who was aware of beauty, able to appreciate nature, capable of reflection.
"Ready to try your luck fishing?" Blaine's voice behind her made Holly turn. He was on his feet, roused from his short nap and getting out his fishing rod.
"I think I'll just tag along down the stream with you," she said.
She followed Blaine as he moved from one rock to the other, casting and spinning. She saw the flashes of gold and brown of the plentiful trout in the crystal water. Blaine landed several but released them, explaining offhandedly that he didn't cook enough to take them home, and besides it was just the fun of testing his skill that he enjoyed most.
All too soon, the shadows began to lengthen, the towering trees soon hid the lowering sun and the wind off the river turned chilly. "Guess we better get started back," Blaine said reluctantly.
They repacked the hamper, folded the blanket and walked slowly to where they had left horse and buggy earlier. Holly debated whether or not to invite Blaine back to the schoolhouse for a pick-up supper from the remains of the picnic, make a pot of hot tea. Would it be proper for a spinster schoolmarm to entertain the town's bachelor doctor alone?
Vi had warned Holly that a small-town schoolteacher had to be careful about her reputation, so, regretfully, she decided against such an invitation. But with someone like Blaine it seemed such a silly rule to be kept.
In the buggy on the way toward town, Blaine said, "I hated to leave. I haven't enjoyed a day so much in . . . well, I don't know how long."
"It was lovely, Blaine; I'm glad you suggested it." Holly smiled at him.
As they jogged along, they carried on a bantering conversation, while Holly enjoyed the scenery of meadows fenced with rails where placid cattle grazed and where orchards were now heavy with autumn fruit: golden pears and russet apples. Suddenly the peaceful scene was shattered. Coming down the road toward them was a horse in a frenzied gallop with its rider waving one arm frantically and shouting. Blaine pulled on his reins. "Whoa!" He leaned forward as the breathless rider slid his mount to a stop alongside.
"Thank God, Doc! I found you! You gotta come quick! It's my boy Chad! Fell off the hayrack, split his head near clear open— he's bleedin' somethin' awful—please, come, right away!"
"Sure thing, Jesse," Blaine clicked his reins, and as the man whirled his horse around and started galloping ahead, Blaine urged his jogging horse forward. "Come on, fella, let's get going!" They started off at a fast clip.
"That was Jesse Renner. His farm is not far from here. A widower with three boys all under twelve who do a man's work along with their father."
"Oh, you mean Ev and Henry? They come to school. But I don't think I know Chad," Holly replied.
"He's probably been helping his father by not attending school since their mother died last spring."
"Ev and Henry don't come regularly either. But I didn't know why."
"A motherless home has a lot of problems," Blaine said grimly. "I'm sorry, Holly, you'll have to come along. There's no time to take you back into town."
"Of course not, Blaine. I understand."
They were going so fast that the fragile little buggy swayed perilously from side to side as they bumped down the rutted country road. Holly had to grip the side handles of the seat to avoid being tossed from the jolting vehicle. Swerving, almost on one wheel, Blaine turned into the gates of the Renner farm. Near the barn, lying on the ground, she saw the prone figure of a boy; two other boys, looking pale and frightened, stood over him. The father, who had made it back only a few minutes before, handed the reins of his horse to one of his sons, with a terse order, "Take him in and rub him down," then knelt beside the inert body of the boy.
"He's still a-breathin' Doc, but I dunno." The man's voice broke as Blaine jumped out of his buggy and ran to where the man was kneeling beside his son.
Over his shoulder, he called back to Holly, "Get my medicine bag, it's under the seat."
Mechanically, Holly ducked her head and saw the black medicine bag, dragged it forward, grabbed it. Gathering up her skirt, she got out of the buggy and hurried over to Blaine. Looking down at the child, she saw blood all over his face, matted into a shock of sandy hair. Instinctively she shrank back, fighting down the instant nausea at the sight, the scared pounding of her heart, and the flinching of every nerve. She set down the medicine bag beside Blaine and stepped back, quelling the urge to run away.
Blaine made a quick examination of the boy, running his hands over his limbs, arms, taking his pulse; then, placing practiced fingers on the base of the boy's throat, he bent his head close to scrutinize the still bleeding gash on the boy's forehead. "He'll be all right, Jesse, but we've got to close up that wound. He's lost a lot of blood and will go into shock if we don't act fast." He turned aside and snapped open his bag, brought out a square of cotton gauze, and applied it. It immediately turned crimson and Holly felt herself gag.
Blaine spoke again. "We'll take him into the house. Jesse, get on the other side and easy now, gently. Careful—," he instructed the father. To Holly he said, "Bring my bag, please."
Like an automaton Holly followed them. They entered the house into the kitchen. It was dim, dingy, smelled of old grease, dirt, and the odor of cabbage and fried meat hung in the air. A widower, Blaine had said. Certainly no woman lived in this fetid atmosphere.
Blaine issued orders like an army drillmaster, and Holly scurried to obey. "Clear that table. Scour the top, see if you can find a clea
n towel—"
She found a large cake of lye soap in a cracked dish on the counter, and there was some water in the kettle on the stove. It was almost impossible to get a lather up, but she did her best; then, as rapidly as she could, she washed off the surface with a wadded dishrag.
There wasn't a tablecloth in sight. Blaine and Jesse were still holding the boy, waiting. Realizing that every minute counted, Holly made an impulsive, instantaneous decision. Blaine and Jesse both had their backs to her, still holding Chad. Quickly Holly moved into the corner and lifted her skirt to one side and unbuttoned the waistband of one of her petticoats. Holding it so it wouldn't drop on the floor, she stepped out of it carefully, then whipped it over onto the kitchen table. Then the two men eased the boy on the top.
Outside, the autumn evening was rapidly darkening. The kitchen was full of shadows.
"Light a lamp," Blaine said to Jesse. "I need to see what I'm doing. I'll have to suture that cut; it will take stitches—" Blaine was almost talking to himself.
The boy began to moan. Blaine put his hands on the boy's shoulders soothingly. Holly could hear Jesse fumbling as he lighted an oil lamp with shaky hands.
"Jesse, hold the lamp right here so I can see," Blaine said calmly.
The father stepped up to the table. Then Blaine spoke directly to Holly. "Chad will have to be held absolutely still so that we don't start the bleeding all over while I sew up his head. Think you can hold his head for me?"
Holly's face whitened and her eyes darkened with fear. She knew she had no time to hesitate. She was needed in a way she had never been before in her entire life. The only thing that deeply troubled her was whether she was up to this task that had been thrust upon her. She swallowed over a throat dry with fear and nodded.
"All right, just step here and put your hands on either side of his head, hold it steady," Blaine ordered. He gave her one long look, then he seemed to forget her and concentrate totally on his patient.
Holly clamped her teeth together, so they wouldn't chatter and she wouldn't scream. Eyes riveted, she watched as Blaine removed the blood-soaked cloth, wiped the child's forehead gently, then began his skillful surgery. His hand never shook as he expertly, quickly moved the needle back and forth closing the gaping gash.
