Grace like a Whisper

by Edna Lee Allen

Josiah pulled back.

  “Now, let ’er loose.” Paxton whispered.

  The object shot straight and long and ricocheted off the tall, slender pin oak.

  Cheers erupted.

  “Did you see that?” Paxton lauded. “You did it.”

  Paxton stood beside Josiah and whispered something.

  Griffin sat up. “Hey, if you can do that again, little squirt, I’ll give you a piggy back ride all the way to school tomorrow.”

  Josiah pulled the rubber back with his right hand, and then a plunking sounded in the distance.

  The boys jumped up and down.

  “Well, I’ll be,” Griffin said. “Little squirt has got it in him.” Then he stretched back out on the grass.

  “Time to get back to work.” Jed told him.

  “Go ahead and get started without me.” Griffin spoke without moving. “I’ll get with you in about an hour.”

  “Come on.” Jed nudged Griffin’s boot. “Or we’ll stay later to make another shooter.”

  Later that evening, little fingers tapped lightly on Jed’s forearm. He opened his eyes from drifting off in the rocking chair. Josiah pushed an opened book in his lap.

  Josiah pointed to words below a picture. “I have to say this part.”

  Jed angled the page so they both could see. A blond-haired, barefoot boy carried a fishing pole in one hand. His dungarees were rolled up at the hem as he walked along a path through the trees. A black, long-eared puppy trailed along beside him. His mother read that poem to him many years ago. “You want to read this to me?” Jed asked.

  Josiah nodded.

  Jed pointed to the first word to get him started, and Josiah read slowly. He stumbled a few times and Jed’s heart ached that he couldn’t rescue him. Jed had no idea if he read every word correctly, but it made sense. “You read this every night, and you’ll have it memorized before too long.”

  Josiah closed the book and carried it into the bedroom.

  “You did a nice job with that shooter today. Did you like that?” Jed asked the boy.

  A beaming smile stretched across the tired lad’s face. He nodded and then disappeared through the doorway.

  “Guess that’s what we’re going to do tomorrow? Make him one?” Griffin stretched his arms overhead and arched his back.

  Jed hadn’t realized he was in the room.

  “No, we got too many orders to fill. And we’ll let Paxton have something no one else has, at least for a while.”

  “I’m going to bed.” Griffin placed one hand on the small of his back and dragged his feet toward the bedroom. “How many more days until Sunday?”

  “It’s Thursday, so three. Why?”

  “Wanting to miss a day of work.” Griffin pointed his finger at Jed. “Don’t get no ideas. Not thinkin’ about the good Lord.”

  But He’s thinking about you.

  ~*~

  Grace stepped out of the schoolhouse. Dark clouds loomed in the eastern sky as small droplets of water fell. Students would probably stay home or postpone their walk to school until the rain subsided. She tugged the rope to ring the bell, and only a handful of children dashed toward the building.

  Leisel ran by Thomas and nudged him hard. He scampered up the steps, shoving a folded piece of paper into Grace’s hands as he brushed by her.

  “Leisel, come back here.”

  The boy walked back and sighed heavily.

  “Stand here and greet the others with me. And you will do it again tomorrow and the next day.”

  “And then I’ll be done?”

  “No.”

  “You will stand here with a smile and a pleasant attitude and say good morning to every student who enters. You will not push anyone else or knock something out of their hands.”

  Leisel folded his arms and seethed.

  The blacksmith’s apprentice appeared, carrying Josiah on his back. Griffin bent his knees and Josiah slid to the ground. Thomas handed Josiah his lunch pail and both scattered up the steps.

  Griffin raised his hand to acknowledge Grace. Then he arched his back and rolled his shoulders. “Long story. I’ll be back to fetch them, but he’s walking back.”

  Grace chuckled. “Have you thought more about coming to school?”

  “Turning eighteen before too long. Boss needs me in the shop.” Griffin waved as he turned.

  Leisel turned to go inside.

  “Not yet, Leisel. You stay right here.” Grace unfolded the piece of paper he’d handed her. “What’s this?”

  “It’s about the Sheldon Fall Festival,” Leisel grumbled. “We have it every year in October.”

  “And what do people do at the festival?”

  “Dance. Eat. People play music. They have a marble contest and kid games. My grandma sells her rugs and blankets there.”

  Grace had heard of such events although she’d never had the opportunity to attend.

  “My ma told me to give it to you.”

  “That was nice of her. Will she and your pa be attending?”

  “Sure. Just about most everybody does.”

  “Good. Then I can meet them. I’ll be able to tell them how smart you are.”

  “They already know that.”

  His uncaring manner reminded her of a scripture her father quoted to her long ago. Something she had never fully applied until now. Out of the mouth, the heart speaks. Leisel really needed a change in his heart.

  She entered the schoolhouse.

  Thomas held his book out to her. “Are you sure we can choose anything we want for our next speaking, Miss Cantrell?”

  “Again, Thomas, yes, you may. Have you found something that’s important to you in some way?”

  “Yes, Miss.” He opened the book. “But I want you to see it first.”

  Rumblings sounded from across the room. Minnie shouted at someone to stop.

  “I can’t look at it now, Thomas, but I will.” She caught a glimpse of his face before she moved to redirect the class. His dark eyes and expression seemed sad. The day slipped by, and she forgot about checking his passage until the children had already been dismissed. Perhaps he would ask her again on Monday.

  ~*~

  Grace had never been inside a bank before. Joy had always kept the money the three girls earned hidden under a loose wooden plank in the floorboard. The small change earned from selling eggs and caring for a widow added up over time. Grace remembered the tremble in her sister’s hand when Joy had placed the cash through the teller window for their train tickets. But all that scrimping and saving provided the way to get Grace and her sisters away from Grover, Kansas.

  With all the busyness with school she hadn’t thought much about her sisters. Grace was glad she’d not accepted a mail-order marriage arrangement as her sisters had done. Mercy had married within an hour of her arrival. Grace hadn’t heard anything about Joy, who went to a cattle ranch on the outskirts of town.

  Grace’s first income lay before her. After she’d signed papers to open an account, the bank clerk counted the small amount of money she’d asked for after her deposit. She slipped it into her purse and exited the bank.

  On the boardwalk, townsfolk milled around. A wanted poster with a five-hundred-dollar reward was tacked on a beam below a flyer for the Sheldon Fall Festival.

  A dark-skinned woman with coal-black hair stepped outside the boarding house holding a large basket filled with white linens. Three young kids followed her, two girls and a boy. Although their load was smaller, they carried as much as their arms would hold. A man met them at a wagon, took the bundles, and loaded them in the back. He gave orders, his Spanish accent easily recognizable, and the children obediently crawled up after their mother.

  Two of the three children looked to be school age, but they had never attended her class. Perhaps they would if given a proper invitation.

  The man climbed up and reached for the horse’s reins.

  Grace stepped toward the wagon.

  “Miss Cantrell.” Grace turned, and a por
tly woman with a round face and full cheeks waved. A man, taller and thinner, with a dark beard, walked beside her.

  The wagon pulled forward. The girl turned around and her dark eyes met Grace’s. She opened her palm in a timid farewell.

  “You’re the new school teacher, right?” the lady asked.

  “I am.” Grace waved at the girl as she turned toward the woman.

  “I’m Mrs. Fullerton, and this is my husband, Chester. Patrick is our boy. And he just thinks the world of you.”

  “Oh, thank you. Patrick’s a very kind and smart, though impressionable, young man.”

  “Yes, he is. And sometimes that worries us. He’s a follower, that kid. Would get into all kinds of messes if we didn’t watch out for him. And never did very well at school either until you came along.”

  “He’s done fine so far. He has improved already with his reading and spelling, and he’s becoming more confident.”

  “We noticed that too. He’s never wanted to read much before, and now he’s been reading a book after supper. And just the other night he asked me if I’d drill him on his spelling words.”

  “I’m happy to hear that. I’ll tell him on Monday how proud of him I am for that.”

  Mr. Fullerton dug his hands in the front pockets of his trousers. “He mentioned something about an oration he has to do in front of the class. He’s all worked up over it.”

  “Patrick should do fine with practice. He just needs some encouragement and some discipline to commit the work to memory.”

  “Will you be staying in Sheldon long?” Mrs. Fullerton interjected. “I mean, after the school term? I know Mr. Hennessy plans to return before next fall.”

  “I’m not exactly sure, but I hope so. My two sisters are in the Sheldon area.”

  The woman’s face clouded. “Yes, I had heard that.”

  Her husband nudged her in the back. “Come on, Lillian, we gotta be going.”

  Mrs. Fullerton put both of her hands around Grace’s. “It was so nice to meet you. And perhaps we can chat again at the festival. Goodbye.”

  Toward the end of the boardwalk Hail Talbert exited his haberdasher shop. His fingers fiddled with the gold chain on his pocket watch as he greeted a group of men. A black hat that matched his trousers rested on top of dark hair sprinkled with gray. His head threw back as he bellied out a deep laugh.

  Grace dashed into the next open doorway.

  A lady stood on a short platform wearing a long, navy dress. Another woman knelt on the floor near her feet, straight pins held between her lips. They both looked up as she entered.

  The seamstress removed the pins from her mouth. “I’ll be right with you. Feel free to look around.”

  Grace scanned the area. A short rack on either side of the small store held handmade dresses. She examined the piping around the waistbands and the bishop sleeves of several dresses. Cartridge pleats had been gathered evenly, and knife pleats ironed crisply.

  Her sister Joy was the family seamstress, Mercy the farmhand, and Grace was the cook.

  This store owner had talent, but Joy made dresses from faded tablecloths and secondhand fabric from clothing found at the local mission. As a young girl, Grace had always intended to have Joy make her wedding dress. A childish dream, one that the realities of marriage had cured.

  “If you’re looking for me to do some altering before the festival, I’ll need to know by today or Monday at the latest.” The seamstress spoke without looking up.

  A soft yellow dress with a leaf print and abalone buttons caught her eye. Her fingers brushed the smooth feel of new fabric. A price tag dangled from the cuff. She turned it over only to release it quickly.

  “You like that one?” The woman glanced at her for a second and then returned to pinning the hem of the young lady’s dress. “I made that for a lady who lives up on Carter’s Ridge. She paid me for half of it but never came to get it. I sent word and found out her husband got bitten by a rattlesnake and left her with a youngun’ and a baby on the way. Apparently, the bank took all she had and all she could sell. Her parents live nearby. They don’t have much, but it was somewhere to go.”

  “Oh, that’s so sad.” Grace placed the dress back on the rack.

  “That is true. And that dress is still hanging. Never could pay me the rest of it.” She looked up at Grace. “She was larger than you, but I could take in the pleats for no additional charge.”

  Grace lifted the dress from the rod and held it up. The low-waist bodice and straight hem matched the school’s dress policy, but she wondered if the yellow shade would be considered too bright.

  The young lady on the platform spoke. “I think that color would look good with your hair.”

  Grace’s common sense told her to put it back, but her hand wouldn’t budge. “There’s a mirror over here if you want to look.”

  How nice it would be to purchase something without worrying about the next meal. She held it under her chin. The subtle yellow and white did complement her skin tone. New clothes would be nice to have. But still, the price tag. She hung it back up. “Do you have any lace collars?”

  “In the glass case.” The seamstress placed the pincushion on the platform while the other customer went into the dressing room. She removed four collars and spread them on the counter.

  Grace held it up. The writing on the tag was more than she could afford. The other three collars were not as expensive, but they also weren’t as pretty.

  “What about this one?” The worker lifted a cutwork design collar with tatting around the edge. “This would look nice with what you have on.” The lady lifted a handheld mirror for her to see.

  The thin material, although not as elaborate, felt soft and dainty. Grace placed it back down and skipped over the one with too many frills. The last one, a simple crocheted collar, caught her eye. And the price tag suited her just fine. “I’ll take this one, please.” Grace paid the seamstress.

  “Think about that yellow dress,” the lady called as Grace opened the door to leave.

  Oh, I will dream about it for weeks to come. The excitement of her first purchase held her in a daze. She almost walked straight into the well-tailored, sleek, black vest in front of her.

  “Ah, Miss Cantrell.” Mr. Talbert lifted his hat and bowed extravagantly. “What a pleasure to see you again.”

  “Yes, it’s a lovely day.” She stepped around him. “I must be getting back to Mrs. Farley.”

  “Hope you don’t mind if I follow. I’ve been meaning to stretch my legs.”

  Grace walked faster.

  “What brings you into town on a Saturday?” he asked.

  “I needed to pick up a few things.”

  “Could I buy you a slice of pie? Hawkins Boarding House has the best buttermilk pie in—”

  “Mr. Talbert, it wouldn’t be appropriate to allow you to do so as I am the school mistress.”

  He opened his palms and stepped back. “Forgive me if I’ve offended you. My intention was purely honorable.”

  “Of course. But I really should be going.” She moved briskly forward.

  “Can I see you home?”

  Grace called over her shoulder. “That won’t be necessary.”

  “It was good seeing you.” He called. “I hope to see you at the Fall Festival.”

  A quiet evening at home sipping tea with Edith sounded much more inviting. The single ladies would be prettying themselves up for the bachelors who might be about. And she had no desire to turn anyone’s head.

  9

  Short on patience, Jed released his hammer. “Are you seeing what I’m doing?”

  “Yes, I’m always looking.” Griffin folded his arms. “Stop asking me that.”

  “Well, your eyes keep drifting out the window.”

  Griffin paced the width of the small area. “Well, I don’t like just standing here. I’m bored. I gotta talk or move or do something.”

  Jed stuck the rod in the fire and took off his hat. “You wouldn’t be bored if yo
ur mind was in the right place.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Think about everything I do and why I’m doing it. Ask yourself what you would do next.” Jed pulled the iron out of the forge. “Is this hot enough for me to pound?”

  Griffin looked down. “Yes.”

  “How do you know?”

  “The color. It’s a dark orange.”

  “Now, what am I working on?”

  “I forgot.”

  “A hoe. I got the handle done. Now I just need to finish the end. So, how do I want to place it on the anvil?”

  “Hmm. You want to place it over the end so you can begin to bend the rod.”

  Jed placed the rod flat on the anvil. “Like this?”

  Griffin nodded. “Sure.”

  “Or like this?” Jed lifted the end of the rod an inch off the anvil but kept the tip down.

  Griffin shrugged. “I don’t know. Does it make a difference?”

  “Yes.” Jed slapped his pants with his hat. “Yes, it does. And if you’d paid attention you would’ve known that.”

  “I don’t learn by watching. You just gotta tell me what you’re doing. You don’t ever say anything, and I lose interest.”

  “You wanna talk?”

  Griffin acted as if he wasn’t sure how to answer.

  “Tell me out loud what I’m doing, why I’m doing it, and my next steps.” He jabbed his finger toward the fire. “Keep your eyes on the iron. The anvil. And my hammer. Do this well and obey me the rest of the week, and you can start pounding come Monday morning.”

  “You kiddin’ me?”

  “Do I seem like the type that says something I don’t mean?”

  Griffin gave a relieved smile. “No, Mr. Green.”

  “And stop calling me that.”

  “How about Pa?”

  Jed set the hammer down harder than necessary and reached for a lighter one.

  “How about Pops or Pappy?” Griffin goaded.

  “How about Jed, and don’t speak unless it’s about work. I can’t concentrate with all this commotion.”

  “Commotion? There’s only the two of us been here for the last three hours.”

  Jed was surprised he’d not thrown this arrogant lad out of his home.

  “All right, all right. I’ll stop talking. But let me just say one thing more. You ain’t never gonna get you a woman if you don’t talk. Ladies like that.” Griffin opened his arms. “You can practice on me if you like.”