Love's Story

by Christner, Dianne; Billerbeck, Kristin;

“I’m afraid I cannot,” Chase stated calmly.

  Veronica stormed off in the direction of Eikerenkotter’s Hotel, and Chase, in a quandary, watched her before continuing on his way.

  There was a line at the post office when Rachel arrived. Sawyers in their work clothes were anxious to see if there were any letters for them. Rachel’s toe was tapping nervously as she waited behind the loggers. Finally, it was her turn. The clerk knowingly reached for a letter from a series of wooden boxes behind the counter and handed it to the town’s teacher with a smile. “Welcome to Searsville, Miss Phillips.”

  “Thank you. Oh, thank you!” Rachel beamed with happiness as she held the letter. She ripped it open anxiously and cried as she saw a little purple footprint at the base of the letter. Rachel’s mother must have dipped Georgie’s foot in berries and stamped the stationery.

  “That must be quite a letter. From a beau, perhaps?” Mrs. Steele’s sweet voice lacked sincerity, but Rachel was determined not to make an enemy of the widow. She did not want to be the topic of this week’s sewing circle.

  “It’s from my mother. See here?” Rachel thrust the letter in front of Mrs. Steele. “This is my baby brother’s footprint. Have you ever seen anything so precious?” Rachel’s voice broke.

  “No, I most certainly haven’t,” Mrs. Steele droned.

  Mrs. Steele’s sarcasm was intolerable. Rachel pocketed her letter and decided she would wait until she was home to read it. She wanted to relish every word, and Mrs. Steele’s presence would make that impossible.

  “Good day, Mrs. Steele,” Rachel said with a forced smile.

  “Oh Miss Phillips, will we see you tonight at the quilting meeting?”

  “That’s right, it’s Tuesday. I’m afraid not, I have lessons to prepare,” she concluded with finality.

  “What a pity.” Mrs. Steele’s tone indicated that Rachel would not be asked back to the weekly quilting parties.

  What a relief, she thought. Rachel picked up her skirt and rushed home, anxious to devour her mother’s handwritten words.

  “What a day,” Chase sighed to himself as he was approaching the Steele residence to pick up Henry for their evening together. First, Jeremiah had let him know he’d caused a small scandal by walking with Rachel from the woods, then he was accosted by Veronica. And now he was on his way to deal with Gretchen Steele.

  There had been a brief moment when the day seemed like it might redeem itself; Rachel had seemed happy to see him. However, after his own meeting with Veronica, he suspected she was just relieved to have been interrupted. Henry caught sight of Chase through the window and came running.

  “Mr. Dylan, Mr. Dylan!” Henry flew over the steps from the porch.

  “Well, that sure improves my day. How’s my boy?” Chase asked, while patting him on the back.

  “I’m fine. I started school, and I’m learning my sums good.”

  “You’re learning them well, Henry.”

  “Yeah, I’m learning them well. How did you know, did Miss Phillips tell ya?”

  Chase laughed at the misunderstanding. “No, but I’m sure she would have if I’d asked her. You keep up the good work; a train engineer needs to know his sums.”

  “Mama’s not home yet, she went to the post office. Milly’s in the house making dinner. What are we gonna do tonight?”

  “We’re going to plant redwood trees.” Henry looked up in wonder. “You’ll see, it will be fun,” Chase promised.

  Rachel arrived home to find a note from Mrs. Hopper. A neighbor woman had taken ill and Mrs. Hopper was attending to the family’s dinner before going to the evening sewing circle. Grateful for the quiet house, Rachel made herself some tea and sat down at the kitchen to savor her mother’s letter.

  August 30, 1863

  Dear Rachel,

  You’ve only been gone a few days, but it seems like years. I never knew how much I would miss you. I can’t believe my daughter is a schoolteacher; it makes me so proud. How many children are in your class? What are the people of Searsville like? You’ll have to give me all the details.

  Life here remains the same. Georgie has started to sleep through the night, so that’s one nice change. I think he misses you. He looks around when he’s eating his breakfast and I tell him, “We’ll see your big sister at Christmastime.” Georgie signed this letter with his breakfast—blackberry preserves. I think he’s an artist, don’t you?

  Marshall hired a nurse to help with Georgie. I can’t say I’m very fond of the idea, but it is helpful when I’m hosting a luncheon for the wives of Marshall’s business associates. My life has become so different, I must really work to make time for God. It seems so funny, I should have more time than ever, but praying comes much harder.

  Marshall is certainly busy. Between the politics of the railroad and housing the continuous flow of businessmen headed to the Comstock Lode in Nevada, we barely see him. In addition to work, he’s become very vocal lately in regard to the Civil War. He’s been to a few Union rallies and has even hosted a fund-raiser for the Sanitation Committee, which provides assistance for victims of the war. If it weren’t for the rallies and the occasional volunteer in uniform, you’d never know there was a war on at all! I guess where you are, you probably don’t hear anything about it. How I envy you.

  There’s so much building going on here constantly. I have no fear for your job because I see the lumber coming in a steady stream through the city. Whenever I see a lumber wagon, I think that wood might have passed right by my daughter. My darling, I will have to write more later, Marshall is bringing men home for dinner, so I need to get cleaned up. I love you and miss you. Please take care of yourself.

  Serving Him with you,

  Mother

  Rachel was saddened by the letter; something seemed amiss with the woman she knew so well. Her mother’s life had changed so much, Rachel wondered if she would know her when they met again. It was a silly thought. In her head, she knew that, but her emotions overruled her reason as she longed to embrace her family.

  Chapter 7

  Chase sat comfortably on the love seat of the Steele home, waiting for Henry, who was in the kitchen packing a supper with Milly. “Chase, what a pleasure to see you,” Gretchen Steele cooed as she entered the home.

  “Gretchen, you act like you weren’t expecting me.” Her games were beginning to wear on the sawyer. He rose from his chair and called for Henry to hurry up.

  “Oh Chase, really. You’re such fun,” Gretchen said, dismissing the comment. “What are you handsome men up to this evening?”

  “We’re going to plant redwood trees above the lake.”

  “What fun. Now, what’s this little rumor I hear about you and our new schoolteacher?” She had asked the question casually, yet Chase recognized the desperation in her voice.

  “I wish there was something to tell,” Chase answered, hoping to put an end to the town talk. His choice of words could not have proven more careless.

  Gretchen Steele’s eyes flashed with jealously, and she blatantly ignored the comment. “Henry darling, Mr. Dylan is ready to leave,” Gretchen managed to say as she quickly hustled the pair out of the house. “I haven’t waited around this one-horse town all these years for nothing, Chase Dylan, and I’m certainly not going to let any bright-eyed schoolteacher take you away.” The comment was spoken to the back of the door. “I have a plan.”

  “Rachel dear, are you all right?” Thelma entered the kitchen from the back door, her face drawn and weary.

  “Yes, I’m fine, Thelma. I’ve just had a letter from Mother, so I’m a little homesick.”

  “You’re home now, you must remember that. Think how proud your mama must be to know you’re supporting yourself and teaching all those children.” Thelma gently rubbed Rachel’s back. Rachel smiled. The thought was little comfort, but the touch helped a great deal.

  “Thelma, I’ve been meaning to tell you, God must have put you to work planning those lunch baskets. There were exactly five children wit
hout meals. It has been such a blessing to have food for them.”

  “Well, we wouldn’t be Christians if we didn’t take care of the wee ones, now would we? Speaking of which, I’ll be home late tonight from sewing and off early in the morning to help Mrs. Kramer with her children while she’s ill. So if you need anything before then, leave a note on the kitchen table.”

  “Mrs. Hopper, truly, you’re going to wear yourself out.”

  “Maybe, my dear, but if I’m going to wear myself out, I might as well accomplish something in the process.” Thelma’s hand rested on Rachel’s shoulder. “I’m exhausted. I’ll be resting a bit before the quilting circle.”

  Chase carried a leather satchel containing his Bible and four redwood saplings wrapped in cloth. He sat alongside Henry by the peaceful evening lake and began his lesson. “I’m going to read from the Bible, Henry.”

  Chase opened his black leather Bible. “I’ll be reading from the Gospel according to Saint Matthew, chapter 13, beginning with verse 3: ‘Behold a sower went forth to sow; and when he sowed, some seeds fell by the way side, and the fowls came and devoured them up: Some fell upon stony places, where they had not much earth: and forthwith they sprung up, because they had no deepness of earth; and when the sun was up, they withered away. And some fell among thorns; and the thorns sprung up, and choked them. But others fell into good ground, and brought forth fruit, some an hundredfold, some sixtyfold, some thirtyfold.’” Chase’s arms exploded wildly with expression as he read.

  “Do you understand this story that Jesus told, Henry?”

  “No sir.” Henry’s head dropped.

  Sensing his frustration, Chase said, “Henry, I didn’t understand it the first time I read it either. That’s why we’re here, to learn together.” Henry lit up, and Chase went on. “The seed is the Message of Jesus Christ. We’ll use these redwood saplings as our seeds. The first one fell by the way side.” Chase put the sapling on top of the packed earth of the path around the lake. “You see, if we leave this here on the path, it would never sprout. Someone would come along and step on it and it would be carried away, not allowed to grow. When someone hears the message of God and doesn’t understand it, the wicked one will come and snatch it away. Do you understand?”

  The six-year-old nodded positively. “Mr. Dylan, we have to get the baby tree or someone will take it,” Henry said fearfully.

  “We’ll get it soon, Henry. Let’s talk about the second set of seeds. Jesus said that these seeds fell on stony soil.” Chase laid the second sapling under the stones of the rocky shore of the lake. “Will this tree grow here?” Chase’s hand pointed toward the sapling.

  “No. There’s no dirt; the roots couldn’t sink in.”

  “That’s right, Henry! In the Bible, the soil is people’s hearts. This is the person who hears the message of God and it brings him joy, but it lasts only a short time, and he falls away from the Lord because his heart did not accept the Word.”

  “Oh yeah!” said Henry, happily understanding.

  “Now, what about the third seed? Jesus said it fell among thorns.” Chase put the third sapling in a nearby bush. “This is a hard one. Why won’t the tree grow here?”

  “Because there’s no dirt again.”

  “That’s right, but there’s also a lot of things surrounding the tree, isn’t there? This is the man who hears the message but is too caught up in the things of this world to care.”

  “The things of this world?” Henry inquired.

  “The things of this world could be anything that you put before God. For some people that means nice things like furniture or gold pieces. For others, it could be knowledge or travel. All those things choke the Word, like the third sapling. Do you understand?” Henry nodded once again.

  Chase took the final sapling and a shovel to a soft spot in a clearing. He dug a hole and dropped the sapling in, covering its roots with the loose soil.

  “This one will grow, Mr. Dylan!” shouted Henry excitedly.

  “That’s right, Henry. This is the man who hears the Word of God, embraces it, and lives to spread the Word, through good works and by telling others about Jesus.”

  Henry clapped wildly and Chase felt as though he had just finished a one-act play. This time with Henry is so special, Chase thought. I have learned so much about my heavenly Father by sharing it with this child.

  The quilting circle had gathered at Mrs. Thorne’s house, and the evening was off to a rough start: Mrs. Thorne complained she had just listened to an hour of her daughter’s whining; she was still trying to convince her mother that she should be allowed to marry. Mrs. Hopper was exhausted from serving Mrs. Kramer all day. Gretchen’s grumpy mood remained a mystery. Had the women seen Chase Dylan leaving her home with Henry, the women probably would have made a good guess. Mrs. Irving and Mrs. Davenport were the only women who arrived anxious to begin quilting.

  “You were right about Maria Lathrop last week, she’s starting to show,” Mrs. Hopper said, her hands sewing rapidly.

  “I told you, those Californios don’t waste any time,” Mrs. Thorne added, a hint of disgust in her voice.

  “We better see to it that she stays away from our pretty young schoolteacher. All that pretty little thing needs is a husband, and that’s the end of Searsville education for a while,” Mrs. Irving offered.

  Gretchen was very interested in the conversation, dropping her sewing to concentrate fully upon it. Suddenly she blurted, “I’ve heard it said that our Miss Phillips has a checkered past.” Gretchen’s eyes were transfixed on her resumed sewing, her gaze never meeting any of the intrigued women’s.

  “Oh, really now, Gretchen. Miss Phillips is far too young to have such a past,” Mrs. Irving said, her tone begging for more details. Mrs. Hopper looked on in intrigued terror as they discussed her boarder.

  “Well, if you don’t believe me, I suggest one of you ask her about her baby brother. I think you’ll find there’s more to the story.” The women gasped, and Gretchen took apparent satisfaction in their reaction.

  The rest of the evening was quiet at the sewing circle. The group was ruminating over such a juicy tidbit, thinking about who they would tell first and the reactions sure to be had. Thelma Hopper had a different reaction altogether; she appeared agitated and speculated aloud how best to evict her young friend who was no longer a suitable boarder. The women silently sympathized, but no one offered a suggestion.

  Rachel woke feeling spry, although she had once again been up late into the night preparing for the day’s lessons. A new teaching method had her anxious to get to school, and she selected a bright green dress with matching bonnet to match her mood.

  Walking up Main Street, Rachel felt the townspeople’s eyes boring through her. Perhaps this dress is too much. The young teacher was tempted to turn around to change her clothes, but reasoned by the town’s reaction that might only be worse. Once inside the classroom, everything seemed normal. All of the children were happily playing outside, and Rachel sought refuge behind her large desk. I’ll just remain at my desk today, and tomorrow I’ll wear my usual dark skirt and white shirt.

  Miss Phillips called to Henry to come and ring the bell. The students were soon in their desks, with the exception of Veronica Thorne.

  “Does anyone know where Miss Thorne is this morning?” All heads shook. “Very well, let’s get started, shall we?”

  “Miss Phillips, I’d like to have a word with you.” Mrs. Thorne stood in the doorway, her voice echoing loudly throughout the room.

  “Very well, Mrs. Thorne.” Rachel was upset to have her lesson interrupted, but knew Mrs. Thorne would never impose unless it was important. “Children, please take out today’s reading assignments and begin reading quietly to yourselves.” Rachel followed Mrs. Thorne outside, irritated that her selection of dress was probably to blame.

  “Mrs. Thorne, if this is about my gown…”

  “Miss Phillips, you know perfectly well this is not about your gown. I don’t know how y
ou thought you could keep such a secret, but it’s out now. I cannot think of anything you have left to teach my daughter. I have decided to let her quit school and marry Jeremiah at once. He will provide a decent and respectable life for her, which is more than she will learn from you.”

  “Mrs. Thorne, I beg your pardon, but I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Rachel was shocked by the intensity of the insinuations, and her hands went up in questioning protest.

  “Look, Miss Phillips, save your excuses for someone else. The men in this town don’t care what you’ve done; most of them are runaways from somewhere, anyway. You can find yourself a husband easily enough in one of them sawyers, so why don’t you do so and quit this teaching business. Apparently, most of the mothers don’t care about your past. That’s why you have a schoolroom full of children. But my husband and I are decent folk and we will not have our daughter taught by such a… such a… No, I will not say it; I will do the Christian thing and rise above it.” Mrs. Thorne stormed away in a huff.

  The young woman stood bewildered. What on earth was that all about? Rachel was upset, but not angry. Mrs. Thorne obviously had been led astray about something and Rachel actually felt sorry for her. What could I have done that would cause Mrs. Thorne to allow her daughter marry at sixteen without finishing her education? Rachel shrugged her shoulders and reentered her classroom, determined to clear up the situation after school. She was thrown by the encounter, and decided to save her special lesson plans for another time.

  “Class, please take out your slates. We’re going to work on our numbers.”

  Chapter 8

  The overpowering smell of smoke from the fire forced Chase and Robert to hold their conversation outside the blacksmith shop. Robert had been shoeing a team of oxen before hearing the awful rumor, courtesy of a visit by Gretchen Steele. He had sent word to Chase immediately.

  “A baby. That’s ridiculous. Rachel couldn’t be but eighteen, with a teaching certificate,” Chase replied indignantly.