Just then, John cried out. “Ooo-wee! Will you look at this!”
He and Creed had managed to open a large cardboard box. Christy recognized the printing on the top of the box. It was from a textbook supplier she’d written. Could it be?
John held up a brand-new history textbook. “Real, live books!” he cried. “Have you ever seen anythin’ so all-fired pretty?”
Christy joined the boys. The other children crowded close. It was more than she’d ever dreamed possible—maps, books, even a globe, and an American flag.
“Oh, Miss Alice,” Christy cried. “Isn’t it wonderful?”
“I’m glad, for the sake of the children,” Miss Alice said quietly, “but I do think we need to have a talk, Christy.”
Before Christy could respond, Little Burl grabbed her arm. “Teacher,” he said urgently, “what’s under the big blanket over yonder on the wagon? Those are the biggest boxes I ever did see!”
Christy was almost afraid to ask. Judging from Miss Alice’s stern look, she had made some terrible mistake. Still, she had no choice but to ask.
“Mr. Pentland,” she said, “what’s under the tarp? More boxes? Or maybe mattresses?”
“No’m. I reckon you remember how I told you somethin’ was a-comin’ that could make noise?” He signaled to the two delivery men, who yanked the tarp free.
Everyone gasped, but no one was more stunned than Christy.
A beautiful, brand-new, gleaming, grand piano sat on its side in the wagon.
“Oh, my!” Christy said, her hand to her mouth.
“Oh, my, indeed,” said Miss Alice.
“Mercy, Teacher!” whispered Creed. “What is it?”
“It’s a piano, Creed. A concert grand piano. It makes beautiful music.”
Even Lundy and his friends ran over, staring at the piano in awe. Wraight reached out and touched the shiny black piano bench, his jaw slightly ajar.
“Ain’t it just purty?” Ruby Mae said to Wraight.
He gave a small nod, his fingers lingering on the smooth wood.
Christy turned to Miss Alice and David. “Well,” she said a little sheepishly, “surprise!”
David slowly shook his head. He could not seem to find the right words. “Christy,” he said at last, “that may be the understatement of the year.”
But I thought you’d be pleased,” Christy said after dinner that night. She was sitting at the dining room table with David, Miss Alice, and Miss Ida. Ruby Mae worked in the kitchen, cleaning up the dishes.
The boxes of donations sat in the living room, along with the grand piano. It had taken David, Mr. Pentland, and the two delivery men several frustrating hours to get it into the mission house.
Miss Ida pursed her lips. “Miss Alice doesn’t like begging,” she said primly.
“But I didn’t beg, exactly,” Christy said lamely. “I just wrote a nice letter to some companies. I explained the mission’s desperate need for supplies. And I told them about the children. That’s all.”
“Now’s the time for me to explain the mission’s philosophy of fundraising,” Miss Alice said. She paused to pour a fresh cup of tea from a steaming pot. “We believe that only one reason is good enough for a person to give: because that person, without pressure, freely chooses to make the gift. Money pried out of people won’t be blessed for the work we need to do, anyway. Donations must come from the heart.”
Christy hung her head. “I understand. At least, I think I do.”
“As much as we need those supplies, you risked putting the mission in a bad light, Christy,” Miss Alice continued. “I honestly don’t think going ahead on your own like this was even good teamwork.”
Christy nodded. She thought of many explanations for her behavior, but she knew Miss Alice was right. “I guess sometimes I do go running off on my own,” she admitted.
“Independence can be a good thing,” Miss Alice said. “But you’ve only been here a brief time. Before you go changing the world, take things a little more slowly, and consult David and me. Sometimes it’s hard to see the whole picture. For example, these donations are going to cause some unintended problems.”
“But how could they? The mission desperately needs everything that was sent.” Christy paused. David was gazing at the piano, grinning widely. “With the possible exception of the grand piano,” she added.
“The thing is, Christy, we can’t simply give these items away to the mountain people.” Miss Alice sat back in her chair. “There’s a strong mountain code, you see. No one wants to owe anyone for anything. These people don’t respect anyone who can’t earn his own way.”
“But all the clothes!” Christy cried. “We can’t just let them sit there in the barrels, untouched. There are lots of shoes in good condition, Miss Alice. You know how badly the children need shoes.”
“You’re right. But do you see my point?” Miss Alice asked gently. “You need to understand the mountain people before you can help them. Your intentions were good. But the result was not precisely what you’d hoped. If you simply give away all these items, then people will feel like the few things they’ve worked so hard for are worth less. We must always remember that this mission represents a change for Cutter Gap. We hope it will be a change for the better. But change can be frightening too. And frightened people can become angry people.”
For a moment, everyone sat quietly, contemplating the boxes and barrels stacked high in the parlor.
Suddenly, David snapped his fingers. “I have an idea!” he exclaimed. “Suppose we sell the clothes? Priced very low, of course. We could set up a little store. Charge something like seventy-five cents for a good suit, five cents for a vest. That sort of thing.”
“That’s a wonderful idea,” Christy said, relieved that the donations might not have to go to waste. “And maybe we could accept vegetables or other things as payment instead of money. That way, all the mountain people would have a chance to get what they need, no matter how poor they are.”
“I think that’s a fine solution to a tricky problem,” Miss Alice pronounced.
Ruby Mae came in, drying her hands on a dish towel. “I been meanin’ to ask you,” she said. “Are we goin’ to have some kind of jollification, now that we have that giant piano thing right there in the middle of the parlor, just a-waitin’ for some playin’?”
“Another fine idea!” Miss Alice said. “How about an open house?”
“Ruby Mae, you’re brilliant,” David said. “We could have a party here, with music and dancing, and invite everyone from Cutter Gap. Jeb can play his dulcimer, and I’ll play my ukulele.”
“I play a little piano,” Christy said. “Not very well, but I could give it a try.”
“Wonderful,” said Miss Alice. “How about Saturday night? Ruby Mae, you spread the word.”
“I’ll get right on that, Miz Alice,” Ruby Mae said excitedly. “Be tickled to death to help out.”
“With Ruby Mae on the job, everyone in Cutter Gap will know about it within an hour,” David teased.
Ruby Mae rolled her eyes, then slapped at David playfully with the dish towel.
Miss Alice leaned over to Miss Ida, whose brow was creased with a deep frown. “What’s wrong, Miss Ida?”
“I was just thinking about what a mess an open house like that will make!” Miss Ida sighed. “I’ll be cleaning up for a month or more.”
“Don’t worry, Miss Ida,” Christy said. “I’ll get the children to help.”
Miss Ida seemed to relax a little.
“Don’t you fret none, Miss Ida,” Ruby Mae said, patting her on the shoulder. “Last jollification I went to, over at the Holcombes’, it weren’t hardly any mess at all.” She shrugged. “Unless, of course, you count that broken window. Or when the kitchen caught on fire . . .”
Miss Ida groaned, dropping her head into her hands.
Christy winked at Ruby Mae. “You’ve probably reassured Miss Ida enough for one evening, Ruby Mae.”
“Well, now,”
David said to Christy. “It seems everything worked out for the best. We’ve found a way to deal with all these donations, and we even managed to get that piano inside. One of these days, I may even figure out how to hook up that telephone of yours.”
“Still, I’m sorry about all this,” Christy said. “I only meant to help, but I can see now that I went a little too fast.” She sighed. “Sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever really understand these people. Take last night, when I thought I was being chased on my way home from the Spencers’ cabin. I ran into Zach Holt, but when I tried to question him—”
“Did you just say ‘when I thought I was being chased’?” David interrupted. “What are you talking about? I thought John Spencer walked you home.”
“He did. And it’s nothing, really, David,” Christy said with a wave of her hand. “That’s why I didn’t mention it yesterday when I got home. I heard some noises, a dead rat dropped out of a pine tree—”
“A what?” David exclaimed.
“I’m sure it was just more of the same. Another prank, that’s all. The odd thing was that Zach suddenly appeared, out of nowhere. But try as I might, I couldn’t get him to admit that Lundy has been putting him up to these things. And I’m sure that’s what’s going on.”
“I don’t like this, not at all,” David said. “This is getting out of hand.”
Miss Alice shook her head. “One thing’s clear, anyway. That message on the school is not going to be the end of these pranks.”
“You’ve got to be more careful, Christy,” David said sternly.
“I will, I promise—”
“No, I don’t think you understand. This is just like the situation with the donations. You think you understand these people, but you don’t—not yet. They can be violent. Very violent. People in Cutter Gap have been shot for no reason.”
“But if this prankster is just one of the children . . .” Christy’s voice trailed off. “I can’t believe any of them would be capable of real violence.”
“Don’t be too sure,” Miss Ida warned.
“It can’t hurt to be careful, Christy,” Miss Alice said. “To begin with, you’re not completely sure that one of the children is responsible. Until we can put a stop to this, I think you should stay close to the mission for a while, and be very careful.”
“I understand,” Christy said. “But it sure seems to me like you’re worrying over nothing.”
Miss Alice seemed surprised by Christy’s reaction. “Don’t forget what I told you. In these mountains, anything new and strange poses a threat. And here we have a new schoolhouse, a new starry-eyed teacher, and now, new books. For some, that may add up to a threat to the only way of life they’ve ever known. Don’t forget all the mischief Granny O’Teale was able to make when she decided you were cursed.”
Christy gave a wry laugh. “How could I? Still, I hate to think one of the children feels that way.” She pushed back her chair and stood. “Did you ever have one of those days when you felt like you couldn’t do anything right?”
“Don’t be silly,” Miss Alice said, reaching over to pat Christy’s arm. “You’re doing so much right. You’ve made great strides with the children already. And I know you’re going to do much more, with time.”
“That will only be possible if they’ll let me.”
A smile tugged at the corners of Miss Alice’s mouth. “Remember Matthew 19:26, Christy: ‘With God all things are possible.’ ”
1
Up in her room, Christy settled on her bed and carefully opened the package Mr. Pentland had brought her today. Inside was a note written in her mother’s careful handwriting and a gift, about the size of a book, wrapped in pretty blue tissue paper. Carefully, Christy tore off the paper. She wanted to save as much as she could. Perhaps she could use it for an art project at school.
Inside, to her surprise, was a brand-new leather-covered diary and a new fountain pen. Christy had told her mother how she’d given her old diary away to Ruby Mae after Christy had caught her snooping in it. Christy had torn out the few pages where she’d written about her journey to Cutter Gap. The rest of the diary had been untouched, and Ruby had been thrilled at the idea of having a private place all her own where she could write down her thoughts and dreams. As hard as it had been to part with the diary, Christy had never regretted giving it away.
Now, here was her chance to start fresh. Something told her it was important to record everything that happened to her here at the mission. She knew she was on an important adventure, even if she had no idea how it would all unfold.
Christy opened to the first page. On it, her mother had written:
February 21, 1912
For my lovely and brave daughter, to record all her adventures.
All my love,
Mother
A hot lump formed in Christy’s throat. There were many days when she missed her parents and her brother, George, so much that it felt like she could hardly bear it.
Even though her parents had at first argued against her coming here, once Christy had made up her mind to teach in Cutter Gap, they had been completely supportive. She traced her fingers over her mother’s message. Christy could almost hear her talking to the women’s group at the church about her daughter’s wonderful work in the mountains. She could imagine her as she’d carefully folded each sweater and dress into the donation barrels that had arrived today.
But was Christy’s work here so amazing? Sometimes she wondered. Obviously, she had disappointed Miss Alice today. And she’d angered someone enough to cause a string of angry pranks.
Christy reached for the pen and began to write.
Wednesday, March 13, 1912
My first entry in my new diary. As I continue my adventures in Cutter Gap, I pray that I won’t let down my parents, Miss Alice, David, or the children. And most important, perhaps, I pray I won’t let myself down.
I can be far too stubborn, too vain, too independent. I often try to do too much, too fast. I sometimes assume I know everything, when in fact I know so little. Today, the day the donations arrived, I saw plenty of evidence of these facts.
But perhaps knowing my failings is at least a beginning. I can only have faith that I will learn and grow, and that I will become a stronger, better person here, despite the disappointments and hardships . . . not to mention the “flying rats”!
Christy closed her diary. It had been quite a day. She thought of the grand piano in the main room downstairs and smiled. She knew Miss Alice was right about the donations. But now that they had the piano, Christy was awfully glad they were going to get a chance to use it. A party—a “jollification,” as Ruby Mae called it—would be just the thing to distract the children from the recent pranks and to show them that they had nothing to fear from the mission. Perhaps she’d invite the children over to the mission house after school on Friday to help decorate for the party.
Maybe after that, Christy thought hopefully, the strange pranks would end at last, for once and for all.
She is so beautiful, Wraight thought. Lizette Holcombe had to be the prettiest girl in the whole, wide state of Tennessee.
He stood in the corner of the mission house parlor with Lundy and Zach and Smith. Miz Christy had invited all the students in after school finished today, so they could help her decorate for the big jollification tomorrow night.
He didn’t see as there was any point in going to the party. He couldn’t dance worth a hoot. And with his dulcimer all broken to bits, he couldn’t play along with Jeb and the preacher and the other music makers. Besides, Lizette would be so beautiful that everyone would want to dance with her. John Spencer, for one. Wraight knew John was sweet on her.
Wraight wondered if John knew pretty things to say to Lizette, the things girls liked. Fancy words about flowers and birds and love. Wraight didn’t know any of that sugar-sweet romancing talk. About the only thing he knew to get Lizette’s attention was to throw snowballs at her. That always made her laugh, all right.
/> He’d gone and made a fool of himself when she was trying to help him with his spelling. He’d growled at her like an old bear because he couldn’t understand what she was trying to explain.
When that happened—and it happened a whole lot at school—he felt all tight and coiled up inside. He got angry and did things he didn’t mean to do, just like his Pa did things he didn’t mean to do sometimes.
Wraight watched while Lizette and Bessie and Ruby Mae tried on hats out of the barrel of clothes the mission had for sale. Lizette put on a big floppy straw one with a pink flower on it.
“What do you think, Wraight?” she called to him. “Do I look like a city gal?”
“You look . . .” Wraight hesitated. He glanced over to Lundy for help, but Lundy just gave his usual smirk. “You look fine.”
Lizette sort of half smiled, and Wraight breathed a sigh of relief. She was talking to him, at least, so that must mean she wasn’t still mad about the way he’d practically bitten her head off when she’d tried to help him with his spelling. That was something, anyway.
Lundy elbowed him. “Why is it you get all tongue tied ’round Lizette? You sweet on her or somethin’?”
“I ain’t sweet on nobody.”
“John Spencer’s got his eye on her, anyways,” Lundy said. “’Course, why she’d pay any mind to that puny little varmint—”
“Don’t talk that way about John,” Zach spoke up. “He ain’t so bad.”
Lundy socked Zach in the shoulder, hard. “Hush up, weasel face. I ain’t talkin’ to you.”
“Don’t hit Zach,” Wraight said, clenching his fist. “Never.”
Lundy stepped closer, until he was just inches from Wraight’s face. “You a-tellin’ me what to do?”
Wraight stared past Lundy. He clenched his teeth. The anger boiled up inside him. But he didn’t say a word.
“Thought so.”
Wraight leaned back against the wall. Lundy was three inches taller than he was and much heavier. He never lost a fight, never, and Wraight knew there was no point in starting one now. Lundy was mean. And he was a good shot. Too good, though not as good as Wraight. Still, around the school, what Lundy wanted, Lundy got. Everybody did what he said, even Wraight. That’s just the way it was.
The Angry Intruder Page 6
