Christy

by Catherine Marshall

  The huge boy stood there gawking at me, the stick in his hand, his mouth slack, his eyes empty. Then fire leapt to his eyes. “No gal-woman’s goin’ tell me what to do,” he snarled. “I’ll stop when I’m good and ready.”

  Momentarily I was startled, then fury took over. The storm inside gave me a courage I would not ordinarily have had. I walked rapidly down the aisle toward the sneering face. The fact that the boy towered at least a head above me mattered not at all now.

  “You’ll stop when I tell you to,” I said, almost shrieking, “and I’m telling you—right—now.” Then I reached up and grabbed his shock of hair with all the strength I had, dragged him down and shook him as I shoved him into the nearest seat.

  The yank of the hair had taken Lundy by surprise. His watery blue eyes blinked back tears. But then the next moment he was standing up, his fist doubled as if to fight me back. Most of the children were on their feet now. I could feel John Spencer close to me trying to force his body between Lundy and me.

  “Lundy—stay—right—there—in your seat!” A stern masculine voice spoke from the doorway. It was David who had arrived for the mathematics lessons. “One more word out of you, and I’m the one you’ll fight,” he added.

  The boy slunk down immediately. Then I could feel David’s eyes riveted to my face. Now that the immediate crisis was over, suddenly I was shaking all over.

  The next instant David was by my side propelling me to the front of the room. “Sit down,” he whispered. “I’ll take over for awhile now. We’ll settle with Lundy later.”

  At supper that evening the topic of book-slashing was carefully avoided since it was obvious that I was still tense and upset. But I knew that I had to talk about it, so as we were leaving the table I asked Miss Alice if I could go with her for a chat.

  “Of course,” she answered. “Why don’t you ask David to come too?”

  When we were settled in front of her fireplace, I began. “I don’t know how much David has told you—”

  “Only the bare facts.”

  “Then I’ll begin at the beginning, if I may.” And I described it all, beginning with the mud on the steps, through my losing my temper so completely after the buckeye trick.

  “Well, don’t condemn yourself for that,” David protested. “Who wouldn’t have lost their temper? I certainly would! Miss Alice, I wish you could have seen that scene. Priceless! Christy, so fragile looking, wading into that hulk of a boy. I’m proud of you, Christy. And believe me, I intend to stay clear of that strong right arm of yours!”

  I laughed a bit shakily. “Thanks, David, but let’s talk about the real problem. Who would make a special trip to the schoolhouse for the deliberate purpose of tearing up new books? And why?”

  Miss Alice’s gray eyes beneath the shining blonde braids were thoughtful. “Perhaps because to a certain type of person back here, anything new and strange poses a personal threat.”

  “I don’t understand how new books pose any threat.”

  “New schoolhouse . . . new books . . . new starry-eyed teacher with a head full of plans for the future who’s constantly talking about them. I don’t know—I’m only guessing. But for some, that may add up to a threat to the only way of life they’ve ever known.”

  “Then is it wrong to have so many new ideas?”

  “Of course not!” David said quickly. “Stop condemning yourself. I like you when you’re fired up.”

  Miss Alice only smiled.

  “But how can we find out who tore up the books?” I persisted. “And I did lose my temper today. So how can I get order and discipline back in my classroom now?”

  “You already have it back,” David answered. “You saw how good everyone was the rest of the day. Even Lundy was docile.”

  “Not docile. Surly.”

  “Well, manageable at least. It won’t happen again. But if there ever should be any more episodes, then I’m for asking Lundy Taylor to leave school. I’m not sure he has the brains for school anyway.”

  “But David, I wouldn’t like to expel anyone. That really would be failure.”

  All at once I realized that Miss Alice was saying nothing at all. I recognized one of her quiet moments; that was when she had her best thoughts. “I’d like your comments,” I prodded.

  “All right, Christy. You’ve mentioned your anger. I disagree with you, David, that Christy should be applauded for what she did. Christy’s own deepest instinct tells her that the anger didn’t finally solve anything. Perhaps it would help, Christy, if you recognized why you got so furious. Do you know?”

  “Well, I guess because—No, I really don’t know. What do you mean ‘Why’?”

  “I believe it was because the new books were the product of your latest brain child, thoughtfully conceived, brought to birth with flair and success. Those books are a tangible token of a triumph of self—therefore dear to your heart. True, you undertook the trip to Knoxville to help other people, but self went, self wore a ravishing hat, self sold her cause to an interesting wealthy man. Therefore, when the books were slashed, it was as if you yourself were slashed.”

  David was looking at Miss Alice in amazement—as if he wanted to argue with her. But her words had hit home. In my heart I knew she was right. Yet that only made me feel more despairing. I wondered again if I really belonged here. I had thought that love was the answer for Mountie O’Teale, for all my classroom. Perhaps love had not solved anything after all.

  “Don’t look so woebegone,” Miss Alice smiled at me. “No need to be discouraged. Christy,” she continued, “have you ever watched a baby learning to walk? He totters, arms stretched out to balance himself. He wobbles—and falls, perhaps bumps his nose. Then he puts the palms of his little hands flat on the floor, hikes his rear end up, looks around to see if anybody is watching him. If nobody is, usually he doesn’t bother to cry, just precariously balances himself—and tries again.”

  I smiled at the picture.

  “Well, the baby can teach us. What you’ve undertaken here in Cutter Gap in your schoolroom isn’t a state of perfection to be arrived at all of a sudden. It’s a walk, and a walk isn’t static but ever-changing. We Friends say that all discouragement is from an evil source and can only end in more evil. Wallowing in self-condemnation or feeling sorry for yourself is worse than falling on your face in the first place. So—thee fell into a temper! So thee is human. Thank God for thy humanness.”

  That week Lundy Taylor did not come back to school. By the second week gossip began to reach me that Lundy’s father had taken my jerking his son by the hair as an affront to the Taylor clan and was busy plotting revenge for the new “brought-on” teacher. Though I did not believe this, still the object of discipline was not to alienate pupils from the school. So as one day followed another and Lundy did not appear, I knew that I was going to have to wade into this misunderstanding—and I dreaded it.

  But my mind was temporarily pulled off the Lundy problem by the completion of our telephone installation. The telephone exchange at Lyleton had notified David that the first call to check our number would come through at about four o’clock on a Wednesday afternoon.

  The word quickly circulated and by three o’clock on the appointed day quite a group had gathered. The first to arrive were Fairlight and Jeb Spencer with all their family but Little Guy and Clara, who had stayed home to take care of him. Then John Holcombe sauntered in, trying to be casual: “Jest drapped by.” Bob Allen appeared with Festus and Little Burl and Isaak McHone. As usual Ruby Mae was hovering around, staying close to David, with Miss Ida and Miss Alice in the background.

  To the mountain people the idea of a tiny wire carrying a voice seemed incredible. Most of them did not really believe it would happen, but just in case it did, they wanted to be on hand. The telephone itself had been positioned on the wall in the back hall just outside the dining room door. The group sat tensely in the parlor, speaking almost in whispers so they would be certain to hear the bell.

  “Hit�
��s such a far piece for a body’s voice to reach,” Mr. Holcombe murmured. “Good thing you’ve got wind, Preacher, ’cause you’re goin’ to have to beller mighty loud to be heard yander in Lyleton.”

  David shook his head. “But you don’t have to shout if the connection’s good.”

  “What’s a ‘connection’?” asked John Spencer.

  So David set about trying to explain the technical aspects of the telephone system being set up in towns and cities throughout the country. Soon his audience was shaking their heads in disbelief. “Swear-r-r! It’s a wonder and a revelation!” . . . “All that wire atwixt home and home and acrost mountains and rivers, a-runnin’ from town to town must cost a right smart passel of cash-money.”

  As the time crept toward four, Ruby Mae asked, “What’ll ye talk about, Preacher?”

  David looked amused. “Haven’t the least idea. Depends on what they ask me.”

  Suddenly the bell started ringing, vibrating and clanging. David jumped up and dashed to the back hall. At first the group sat there as though paralyzed, then everyone was crowding around David, who had picked up the receiver, put it to his ear and was leaning forward close to the mouthpiece. “Hello . . . Hello . . .”

  “What does it say?” . . . “Can you hear anything?” Those in front were pressing against David, some in awe, some in perplexity, some of the rest of us in a sudden spirit of excitement. Poor David was hard pressed to hear anything.

  “Quiet!” he bellowed frantically waving one hand at us. Then he turned again to the mouthpiece. “Hello . . . Hello . . . Hello.”

  With all eyes on David there was silence. Then someone hissed, “Y’see! That thar contraption don’t work.”

  David was getting red in the face from being hemmed in so closely, with everyone straining against him to catch any possible sound. The children were jumping up and down. Miss Alice, standing at the back, was obviously enjoying the scene; Miss Ida looked as if she wanted to bang the children’s heads together to make them be quiet. Ruby Mae was wearing a look close to rapture.

  “Yes, this is the Mission house,” David was shouting into the phone. Now the excitement was intense. “Yes, I can hear you. Seems to be all right. To whom am I speaking, by the way? No, didn’t get that. No. Just a minute—”

  David put the palm of one hand over the mouthpiece and turned around, looking helplessly, imploringly at us. But it was no use. The group was too excited. Little Burl was yanking on David, nearly pulling his pants down in his eagerness to know what was going on. Finally David grinned at him, lifted him up, took the receiver and put it against Little Burl’s ear. “Would you say a sentence to my little friend here?” he said into the phone. The boy’s face was a study: bewilderment, confusion, joy, awe.

  After a moment David took the receiver from Little Burl and held it out for everyone to listen. Five heads promptly bumped together. By then I was laughing so hard that I had to retreat hastily into the parlor. Apparently David must have rescued the receiver because I heard him say, “Thanks so much. Yes, checks out fine. You’ll be hearing from us often. Good-bye.”

  For a moment there was silence. Then everyone began talking at once.

  “Lordamercy, it works!” Ruby Mae exclaimed.

  “Miz Christy,” Fairlight came rushing at me, “weren’t ye plumb mesmerized!”

  I was not allowed to forget Lundy Taylor for long. By the time I got to breakfast the next morning, I found that David and Miss Alice had already eaten and left. As usual my redheaded shadow, Ruby Mae, was waiting for me and now that the excitement of the telephone was over, she started in at once on her next favorite subject: the fate awaiting me at the hands of Lundy’s father. “Teacher, ye’re in for trouble with the Bird’s-Eye. More trouble than ever ye saw in all your born days.”

  It was a beautiful sunshiny day, much too nice to talk about problems. “What kind of trouble?” I asked unconcernedly.

  Ruby Mae hugged herself with both arms and shivered, “Don’t know what kind. But he’s the awfulest man. Don’t take nothin’ off nobody.”

  “But I’ve never even seen Mr. Taylor.”

  “Ye seen his son right enough, the way ye yanked Lundy’s hair most right out’n his head.”

  “Lundy deserved it. Probably if we only knew, his father is relieved that somebody could finally discipline Lundy.”

  Ruby Mae looked at me as if I were a freak. “Y’mean ye ain’t scart?”

  “No, I’m not scared.”

  “But Teacher, his hair or his son’s hair, don’t make a particle of difference to Bird’s-Eye. Talk is that he’s sore as a skinned owl at you and is planning his re-venge.”

  “And my talk is that I think you’re getting a big whizz-bang out of exaggerating the whole thing.”

  Ruby Mae was nonplused at my frankness. Then she said slowly, “But ye see, Teacher, what happened in school ain’t lost a bitty-bit in the tellin’.”

  “I’m sure it hasn’t. That’s the trouble. And you be careful that you don’t—”

  “No’m, I won’t. But I’m afeered Mr. Taylor has heerd that ye did things that ye didn’t do.”

  “Oh, I’m beginning to see.”

  “Yes’m. And he has his head set to believe what ain’t true.”

  “Then that decided it. I’m going to have to go see him and tell him what is true.”

  Real consternation now constricted Ruby Mae’s freckled face. “Oh, no’m, you mustn’t do that! Not on yer life, ye mustn’t. Teacher, you couldn’t stand that man off. He be fractious. He’s been known to spill mortal gaum. And them as he don’t want t’kill, he may take a notion to rock.”

  “Rock? You mean he throws stones at them?”

  “Yes’m, and if the rock jest happens t’hit a mortal spot, then hit be the rock’s fault.”

  Her face showed that she did not think this funny. “Ruby Mae, you’re a chatterbox for sure. You talk and talk and I haven’t the least idea what to take seriously.”

  She grinned at me. “It’s true, Teacher. My mouth don’t open jest for feedin’ baby birds. But pleas’m, don’t ever go to nobody’s cabin round here without stoppin’ at the edge of the yard and hollerin’. Ye should take that serious.”

  “That a custom in the Cove?”

  “Well’m, not a custom exactly. It’s jest that if’n ye don’t holler, ye mought git shot at.”

  Already I had heard so much of Ruby Mae’s constant jingle-jangle that I paid little attention to it. Still, there was that exaggerated clan loyalty in the Cove. That could make Mr. Taylor take Lundy’s chastisement personally.

  Later on that day I asked David about it. He did not answer at once. “Bird’s-Eye’s an ignorant man,” he said at last. “A troublemaker. But Christy, my advice is, don’t worry about it. These mountain men don’t harm a woman. And get that Ruby Mae to keep her jabbering mouth shut.”

  I could forget the jabber, but if I was going to keep my promise to give school my all, then I could not forget the Lundy matter. Apparently there was no way to resolve it except by seeking out Mr. Taylor.

  Surely David was right. Mr. Taylor was not going to shoot at me. But just to make sure, I thought that I’d best go by myself. A lone woman and he would not dare—but since I knew that neither Miss Alice nor David would ever agree to my going alone, I decided to slip off without telling anyone.

  The Bird’s-Eye Taylor cabin was the most isolated and freakishly placed one I had seen so far. It had been built between twin shelves of rock planes forming the top of a small mountain and it looked more like a fortress than a home. So steep was the final ascent that I tethered Theo to a tree two hundred feet or so below the cabin to climb the rest of the way on foot. But I paused first to “Hallo” as Ruby Mae had advised.

  There was no porch to this cabin perched like an eagle’s nest on the rocks. From where I stood, it looked as if one stepped out the front door into space.

  No sooner was the call out of my mouth than the doorway was filled with a man’s figure,
shotgun in hand. It was too quick; he had been watching me all the way up the mountain. “I want to talk to you, Mr. Taylor,” I called. “May I come up?”

  “Come up then,” but it was said grudgingly.

  The path was steep, hard-packed, and slippery. As I came closer I saw that there was a level spot something over a yard wide in front of the door. Bird’s-Eye Taylor was not as large a man as I had imagined. Of a different build from his son, he was not quite medium height and slight, though slim and erect. He was dressed in a dirty plaid flannel shirt above a pair of shabby trousers held up by galluses; he was wearing high shoes—muddy—fastened only half way up and gaping at the top. Since where I was standing was on a level with his feet, I noticed that he had on one blue sock and one brown.

  “I’m Christy Huddleston, the new teacher, Mr. Taylor.” I tried to sound as if there was nothing unusual about this visit.

  “What d’ye want with us?” The tone was churlish. The eyes looking into mine were watery blue, hard eyes. A slit of a mouth was set in the grizzled face which had not known a razor in days. He was wearing a felt hat with the brim turned down all around, holes in the top held together with a large safety pin.

  “Just wanted to meet you, Mr. Taylor. And talk to you about Lundy. We’ve been missing him at school. We wondered why.”

  “Ye know why.”

  “May I come in?”

  “Ain’t no place fer a woman. Jest Lundy and me here.”

  “I know. I understand. But I’d like to talk to you.”

  He seemed surprised at my persistence in the face of his deliberate coldness, but finally moved to one side. “Come in and set then.” For the first time I saw Lundy standing behind his father.

  The interior of the building was tiny and seemed more like a cave than a cabin. There was a fieldstone chimney at the back with black pots on cranes, no cook-stove in sight. I had the impression that somewhere in the walls there might be an entrance to a cave under the rock ledges. The room was furnished with only bare essentials and had not been cleaned for a long time.