A Tangled Web

by Jane Peart

  Yours,

  Grady

  Too late, Grady. This is all your fault. Darcy opened her valise and tucked the ring box in one of the pockets, then groped in it for a bottle of rose water and glycerine to pat on her face. She was due to appear at the school board meeting tonight, and she had to look her best. Even if the position was only for one year. Only! Twelve months stretched out before her, full of unknowns. Grady was right—a year is a long time. Anything can happen in a year.

  She felt tired yet tense. Tonight would be a totally new experience for her. The Baldwins were one of the pioneer families in a town her great-grandfather had practically built, and her uncle was a judge. Darcy was used to being liked, even envied a little. Facing a roomful of strangers who had employed her sight unseen to be their children’s new teacher was unnerving.

  At ten minutes to six she put on a fresh blouse, its ruffled collar standing up over the snug jacket of her suit. After dusting her face lightly with rice powder, she redid her hair, then studied her reflection in the cracked mirror over the washstand. She hoped she fit the image of a capable schoolmarm. She checked her lapel watch and took a deep breath. It was time to go.

  She arrived at the town hall at 6:20 on the dot.

  As she entered, she saw that a man on the stage was the same one behind the ticket counter at the train station. He must indeed be a member of the school board. Why hadn’t he told her?

  Aware of people’s curious glances, she found a seat at the end of the second row. The gavel was pounded by a large, florid-faced man, and the meeting was called to order. Minutes of the last meeting were read. Among the list of topics that had been discussed was the urgent search for an elementary school teacher. Darcy straightened her shoulders and leaned forward, expecting at this point to be introduced. She swallowed over her dry throat. Her heart was thumping as she mentally prepared what she would say. She started to stand, when with a flourish the chairman gestured to a lean, bespectacled, middle-aged man sitting at the end of the stage and announced in a loud voice, “Mr. Marcus Manley, our town’s newest citizen and the new elementary school teacher.”

  THREE

  Darcy sat frozen, her gloved hands clenched in her lap. She stared at the five board members on the stage. What had happened to her application? Why hadn’t she been notified? She sat there in a daze as applause sounded all around her. She hardly heard the few words of thanks Mr. Manley spoke.

  After the meeting was adjourned, Darcy pulled herself together. She gathered her wits enough to decide to speak to the chairman, determined to get some explanation.

  Darcy waited until he finished talking to a group of citizens. Then, with as much dignity as she could muster, she approached him. “Sir,” she began politely. “I’m Darcy Welburne. There must be some mistake. I’m here—I mean, I’ve come to take the position you’ve just handed to that gentleman.” She inclined her head toward Mr. Manley, who was now circled by people, possibly parents of the students he had been hired to teach.

  Slowly the chairman made the connection and then turned beet red.“Yes, ma’am, and I’m Clyde Fenley, school board chairman.” He stammered a bit. “I…I’m mighty sorry, Miss Welburne. Jest afore the meeting, Jake Henson, the train station manager, told me you’d come this afternoon. We sent you a letter telling you the position was filled. You must have left home afore our letter come. You see, Miss Welburne, Mr. Manley was known to several of the school board members and highly recommended. We got so many big fellas in the school, and menfolks seem to be better able to handle the older boys than a woman. Beg pardon, miss, but that’s what tipped the scales. No offense. Your qualifications were jest fine. Yes siree. Now that you’ve already made the trip and if you’re interested, they’re in bad need of a schoolmarm over at Minersville. Had to close the school last year cuz the teacher quit. And they ain’t had no one since. It’s nigh on to seventy-five miles from here. Far as I know, they haven’t filled the position yet. There’s a train out of here at seven A.M. you can catch, makes a stop at Minersville.” His tone was somehow not reassuring.

  Darcy had too much pride to show what a blow this was. She accepted Mr. Fenley’s explanation and suggestion as graciously as possible and somehow managed to leave the town hall with her composure intact.

  But walking back to the hotel, she felt devastated. Having come so far, where else could she go? One thing she knew she could not do was go home. How Grady would gloat, and everyone else would be in a hurry to remind her they had all “told her so.”

  What could she do? Minersville, wherever that was, seemed to be her only option. Darcy had never felt so alone in her life.

  By the time she reached the hotel, Darcy had made two resolutions. Discouraged and disheartened as she felt she refused to give up, go home. She had always been told she had spunk.

  Maybe by spunk people actually meant hardheadedness. She realized she had acted impulsively. She had felt that she didn’t need Grady, didn’t need anyone. Now she felt ashamed at the prospect of facing him and the others.

  For some reason she thought of the tract with the blunt assertion on its cover. Belatedly she realized she did need help. She did need Jesus. Brought up in a Biblebelieving, churchgoing family, among people who prayed about everything from good weather for the annual Sunday school picnic to the outcome of an election, Darcy should have found asking for direction and help to be natural. But she felt too guilty. After all, she had rushed ahead, made her own plans without asking anybody. Look where that had got her. Miles from home and anyone she knew, without a job, without a clue as to what to do next.

  Back at the hotel she climbed wearily up the steps and let herself into the room she had rented for the night. She shut and locked the door, then threw herself on her knees beside the bed.

  Tears streaming down her face, Darcy leaned against the sagging mattress and prayed to God for help.

  Finally Darcy got up, took off her hat and jacket. It may or may not have been an answer to prayer, but at least she had come to the conclusion that the only thing she could do was take Mr. Fenley’s advice and go on to Minersville. How much worse could it be?

  She contemplated the bed. Used to immaculate bedding, sheets scented with lavender, she felt finicky about getting into this one. Darcy spread her petticoat over the bed and the pillow and covered herself with her flannel nightgown and finally fell asleep.

  She spent a hard night tossing and turning restlessly on the thin, lumpy mattress, catching snatches of sleep between the raucous sounds reaching her all night long from the saloon downstairs.

  At the first gray light of dawn she got up. The train would arrive at 7:00 and leave again at 7:10, just time enough to load freight, take on passengers, if any. She had to be at the station. She couldn’t miss it. The thought of spending another night here made her shudder.

  She washed as best she could in the tepid water remaining in the pitcher on the washstand. She applied her rose water liberally, brushed her hair, put it up, then got into her jacket and pinned on her hat. She would try to get a cup of coffee in the hotel dining room. She repacked her toiletries in her valise, picked up her suitcase, and went downstairs. The desk clerk had been replaced by a skinny young fellow with a shock of red hair, and a face so freckled that it looked like a polka-dot pattern with two brightgreen eyes. He blinked a couple of times at Darcy’s question about the possibility of a cup of coffee, then stuttered, “Breakfast don’t get served for another half an hour, but Cook’s here, miss. Mebbe you could get a mug if it’s made.”

  He used his thumb to indicate the door that opened into the kitchen. Darcy looked in the direction he pointed and saw an Oriental man who was ranting in Chinese as he gestured with a spatula to a small, thin man wearing a shirt and vest and a soiled apron. She approached them, and at her request for coffee the second man turned and stared in surprise. She smiled, applying her charm, which usually worked well for her. “I have to catch the seven o’clock train,” she explained.

  �
�Well, I dunno—,” he replied and glanced at the Chinese man, who looked blank.

  “Coffee?” Darcy repeated, making a motion of holding a cup and sipping.

  The cook grinned and nodded. “Sure, missee.” He bustled over to the huge, black stove, returning with a thick, white mug of steaming coffee. It was scalding hot and so bitter, it made her eyes blink. However, it served the purpose of jolting her foggy brain to full alertness. Gathering up her luggage, she left the misnamed hotel and made her way along the silent street to the train station.

  As she sat on the bench on the station platform, waiting for the train, Darcy prayed. From memory she recited what she had heard so often: “Everything works together for good to those who love the Lord and are called to his purpose.” It had always been said by Grandma Bee, echoed by her mother and aunts, when anything went wrong. She found it strangely comforting. What more could go wrong?

  Just then she heard the train whistle and saw the locomotive, with its stream of smoke, rounding the bend of the track.

  With a sinking feeling, she watched her trunk being put back into the baggage car. In another ten minutes she was sitting on a rigid coach seat, rushing through a desolate landscape toward another unfamiliar destination. What awaited her there was anyone’s guess. Maybe she should look over the teacher’s information list that Mr. Fenley had given her the night before. She unfolded it.

  The Minersville School Board Rules for Teachers

  Each day fill lamps, clean chimneys.

  Bring a bucket of water and a scuttle of coal for each day’s session.

  Make pupils’ pens, whittle nibs according to each one’s taste, ability.

  Men teachers may have one evening each week for courting purposes, or two evenings if they attend church regularly.

  After the ten-hour school day, teachers should spend the remaining time reading the Bible or other good books.

  Women teachers who marry or engage in unseemly conduct will be dismissed.

  Teachers should lay aside a goodly sum each payday to provide for his or her declining years so that he or she will not become a burden on the community.

  Any teacher who smokes, uses any kind of spirits, frequents pool or public halls, or gets shaved in a barber shop will give reason to suspect his worth, intention, integrity, and honesty.

  The teacher who performs his or her labor faithfully and without fault for five years will be given an increase of twenty-five cents per week in his or her pay, contingent upon the local school board’s approval.

  If Darcy hadn’t been depressed before reading this, she was now. What a list of rules to look forward to for the next year. She wasn’t sure she could live up to any of them—except possibly number 8! Even a year’s contract would seem like a sentence to hard labor in prison. Again she sent a heartfelt prayer heavenward. “Please, Lord, rescue me.”

  “Would you like an apple, dearie?” a pleasant voice asked, jerking Darcy back from her dismal thoughts to the present. The speaker was a motherly-looking lady sitting across the aisle from her. She was smiling and holding out a shiny red Jonathan.

  The woman offering it had twinkling blue eyes, curly gray hair circling a round, rosy face. She reminded Darcy of the illustration of Pegotty, the nurse in her favorite Dickens novel, David Copperfield.

  “Why, thank you,” Darcy said gratefully.

  The woman took a blue checkered napkin from the wicker basket on the seat beside her and passed it over along with the apple. “They’re very juicy. Just picked yesterday in my brother’s orchard. I’ve been visiting there for the past week. I’m Alberta Mason. But everyone calls me Bertie.”

  Darcy nodded and introduced herself. Then she took a bite of the apple. “Mmm,” she murmured appreciatively. “This is really good.”

  The woman looked pleased that Darcy was enjoying it.

  Darcy finished the apple, wiped her mouth and hands on the napkin, and handed it back to Bertie. “That was delicious. Thank you very much.”

  “You’re more than welcome, dearie. I’m a seasoned traveler, you might say. I always take a little something along in case of unexpected delays that happen along the way. Even though I plan to take lunch at the Harvey House in Emporia. And that will be a treat,” Bertie said, whipping out some yarn and beginning to crochet what appeared to be an afghan square. “But it’s nice to fall in with a pleasant companion to whittle away the traveling time, which can get tedious on a long trip.” She took a few more stitches, then glanced again at Darcy and commented, “I noticed you were traveling all alone and looked…well, kinda downhearted. Away from home for the first time, are you, dearie?”

  Because of the sudden lump in her throat, Darcy could only nod.

  Bertie clucked sympathetically.

  Soon Darcy began to confide what had happened to her at Juniper Junction. Bertie listened intently.

  Darcy had prayed for rescue, never dreaming it would come in the form of a plump fellow passenger. But she was to discover that God is full of surprises.

  FOUR

  Before long Darcy found herself pouring out her tale of woe to this stranger with kind blue eyes. As she recounted her dismay about the job she had expected to fill disappearing in front of her eyes, Bertie kept nodding and making appropriate sympathetic sounds.

  Finally tears Darcy could no longer hold back rolled down her cheeks. “I’m sorry,” she said, sniffing. “I didn’t mean to burden you with my personal problems.” She took out her handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes. “At least I have another job waiting for me.”

  “And where is that, dearie?”

  “The school board chairman told me they need a teacher in Minersville.”

  At this Bertie gasped. She patted her chest with one hand as though she were about to have a heart attack.“Oh my, not Minersville! He wouldn’t have sent you there. I do declare!”

  Alarmed, Darcy asked, “Why? What’s the matter with Minersville?”

  “Oh, dearie me,” Bertie said, shaking her head. “Minersville is…well, it’s back of beyond, the other side of nowhere.” She fanned herself with her napkin. “It’s in the desert, a ghost town, practically. The mines ran out years ago, and it’s just some ramshackle buildings and a few people holding on for no real purpose, that somehow…Oh no, dearie, I don’t think you should go there.” She paused and took a long breath. “Are they expecting you to come? Did you sign a contract?”

  “No, but if I don’t go there, I have nowhere else to go, no job at all. And I can’t go back home.”

  “And why is that, dearie?”

  Darcy had not ever imagined telling someone she’d just met about Grady. But Bertie had such warmth, seemed so concerned and interested, that Darcy gave her the whole dismal story.

  “He sounds like a fine young man,” Bertie commented, putting her head to one side and regarding Darcy thoughtfully.

  “He is,” Darcy assured her. “Yes, of course he is, but I simply had to put my foot down. I couldn’t bear to marry a man in politics. And isn’t it better to have been honest with him before we went ahead and got married?”

  “Oh my, yes, dearie. Better by far, than for both of you to be miserable. As Scripture says, ‘A contentious wife is a constant dripping.’ I’ve seen enough of life to know nagging’ll ruin a marriage, that’s for sure. If you weren’t happy, neither would your young man be.”

  “So you see, I can’t go back home now. Whatever Minersville is like, I have to stick it out, at least for a year,” Darcy said with more conviction than she felt. The look on Bertie’s face at the mention of Minersville had sent splinters of apprehension all through her. But what else could she do?

  Bertie tapped her pink cheek with one finger and frowned as if she were thinking very hard. After a few minutes she set her mouth in a firm line.

  “On such short acquaintance, maybe I shouldn’t be giving you advice. But let me tell you about my niece Annie.”

  What Bertie’s niece could possibly have to do with her present dile
mma, Darcy had no idea. But at this point she was willing to listen to any suggestion.

  “Well, have you ever heard of Fred Harvey?” Bertie began.

  Darcy shook her head. “No. Should I have?”

  “Not unless you traveled through the West in the old days.” Bertie rolled her eyes to indicate something unknown to the uninitiated. “Well, I did, following my husband, who was a mining engineer, from place to place. It was no picnic in the park, believe you me. And at the time I had two small children along. Back east the trains provided good customer services. They had dining cars, Pullman sleeping cars. But out here? My, no. Railroads traveling out west went through hundreds of miles of open country. There were no restaurants, no clean hotels where a traveler could get rest and refreshment. Most of the stops were mining camps, cattle pens, or army outposts. It was mighty dreadful. You had to develop an iron stomach to eat a bite. What was available mostly was greasy meat, canned beans, biscuits that tasted like alkali dust, and tea that tasted like it was brewed from sagebrush.” Bertie gave her recital dramatic impact, then ended it with a flourish. “That is, until Fred Harvey.”

  “Who was he?”

  “Who was he? You only have to say the name west of the Mississippi to get an answer. He was an elegant, fastidious Englishman with refined tastes and a brilliant business mind. He saw a need and filled it, beautifully and successfully. At each major railroad station, he opened restaurants that served the first decent meals any westbound train traveler had eaten.” Bertie paused, waiting for some reaction from Darcy. When it didn’t come immediately, she went on. “There’s one in Emporia, and we’ll be there in two hours, and you can see for yourself.”

  “But Minersville is the next stop. The conductor told me they only stop long enough to take on water and”—Darcy finished weakly—“let off any passengers whose destination it is.”

  Bertie leaned forward and patted Darcy’s hand.