Midnight Rescue / The Proposal / Christy's Choice

by Catherine Marshall

  “Probably just the hogs. Or the wind,” Christy said.

  She stroked Prince’s soft muzzle. “Do you sneak out here often?”

  “Some,” Ruby Mae said guardedly.

  “You love Prince a lot, don’t you?”

  “More’n anything in the whole wide world, I reckon.” Ruby Mae pulled a piece of straw out of her curly hair. “More’n my ma and step-pa, even, I sometimes think. Is that wrong, Miz Christy, to feel like that?”

  “You’re just going through a rough time with your parents right now, Ruby Mae. It’ll pass.”

  Ruby Mae sighed. “I hope you’re right. But my step-pa looked right mad at me today, after that sermon by the preacher. After church he told me I was getting carried away, living here at the mission. Said he might even make me come back home to live.” She sighed. “My step-pa thinks people like you and the preacher are pokin’ in where you don’t belong. He said there’d be trouble, if’n you didn’t tend to your own business.”

  “Do you think a lot of people feel that way?” Christy asked.

  “Reckon so. It’s just the way folks is, Miz Christy. They get set in their ways, and they don’t like gettin’ un-set, if you follow my meanin’. Preacher, he’s maybe goin’ too fast . . . not that I got any right to say.”

  Christy leaned back against the rough, cool wood of the wall. She pointed to Ruby Mae’s diary and smiled. “I was writing in my diary, too.”

  “What did you say?” Ruby Mae asked. Her hand flew to her mouth. “Oops. I forgot how they’re private-like. You don’t have to tell me. But I’ll tell you mine. I was writin’ how when I’m here with Prince, it seems like the whole rest of the world can just float away, for all I care. I was writin’ about this place we go to, over past Blackberry Creek. There’s a spot—a cave, like—where we just sit and watch the world a-spinnin’, and I think actual thoughts sometimes.”

  Christy smiled. “Actual thoughts? I’m very impressed.”

  “I mean, I know I ain’t no John Spencer or Rob Allen or nothin’.” She laughed. “My step-pa says I have chicken feathers for brains. But still, I think sometimes.” She hesitated. “You think someone as all-fired smart as Rob could ever hanker after someone with feathers for brains?”

  “Of course he could. But don’t you ever say that about yourself, Ruby Mae. I’ve probably learned as much about the Cove from you as I have from Miss Alice.”

  “Truly?”

  “Truly. Of course, I wouldn’t mind if you paid a little more attention to your studies and chores and a little less attention to Prince.”

  “But can’t you see why?” Ruby Mae asked. She hugged Prince’s neck. “Isn’t bein’ here just the plumb best place in the whole world? Christy nodded. “You’re right. It just may be.”

  Using Prince’s broad back for a pillow, Ruby Mae stretched out in the hay. Christy joined her, and together they covered themselves with the scratchy, horse-smelling blanket. The little window on the far wall gave them a tiny square of sky to look at.

  “Peaceful-like, ain’t it?” Ruby Mae whispered. Staring up at the little patch of star-studded sky, it did seem peaceful. Guns and moonshine and anger seemed very, very far away indeed. Christy rested her cheek on Prince’s warm, soft back, and let herself drift into a restless sleep.

  “Ruby Mae, could you come over here, please?” Christy called the next afternoon. Recess was over, and the children were reluctantly heading back into the classroom.

  They all had a bad case of spring fever, Christy had decided. She’d had a hard time getting anyone to pay attention to her lesson on the American Revolution that morning. There had been a lot of daydreaming going on. Still, no one seemed to be shirking schoolwork more than Ruby Mae. And Christy had a feeling it wasn’t the fine early spring weather that was the culprit. It was a certain black stallion by the name of Prince.

  “Yes, Miz Christy?” Ruby Mae called. She and Rob Allen were sauntering toward the school. Ruby Mae’s cheeks were flushed, and she was grinning from ear to ear.

  Well, Christy thought, maybe Prince isn’t the only distraction in Ruby Mae’s life.

  “I need to talk to you for a minute, Ruby Mae,” Christy said. “Privately.”

  Rob cleared his throat. “I’ll head on inside,” he said quickly, giving Ruby Mae a shy smile.

  Christy led Ruby Mae away from the school into the cool shade of a large oak.

  “Don’t he just have the cutest little dimples you ever did see?” Ruby Mae asked.

  “Ruby Mae,” Christy said, “we need to talk. I graded your history test during recess. And it was not a pretty sight. Did you even read the assignment I gave the class?”

  Ruby Mae gulped. “I sort of . . . shinnied over it, quick-like. Truth to tell, it was dull as dishwater.”

  Christy leaned against the oak, her arms crossed over her chest. “Speaking of dishwater, Miss Ida told me you shinnied over the breakfast dishes this morning, too.”

  “I was groomin’ Prince. He ain’t had a proper hoof-pickin’ in days. Stones get caught in there, and it hurts somethin’ fierce if’n—”

  “Ruby Mae, I’m afraid I’m going to have to take away your riding privileges for a while. For the next few weeks, David will take care of Prince, until your grades improve and you start paying attention to your chores.”

  “But—but you just can’t take away Prince, Miz Christy!” Ruby Mae cried, so loudly that some of the students peered out the windows to see what all the commotion was about. “He’s the most important thing in the world to me! I promise I’ll work on my grades and read my history, even if it is borin’. And I’ll do my chores proper-like. Only you just can’t take Prince away from me! I’ll like to die if’n you do.”

  Christy touched Ruby Mae’s shoulder, but the girl yanked away angrily. “It’s not forever, Ruby Mae. Just for a little while. It’s for your own good. Miss Alice and David and I discussed it this morning.”

  “What do you-all know about my own good?” Ruby Mae screamed. Tears streamed down her freckled cheeks. “Prince needs me. And I need him! You . . . you saw how it was, last night. I thought you understood.”

  “I do understand,” Christy said gently. “It isn’t like he’s going away, Ruby Mae. He’ll be right here at the mission, if you want to say hello.” She sighed. “I’m sorry to have to do this, Ruby Mae, but the sooner you get back on track, the sooner you can spend time with Prince again.”

  Ruby Mae stared at her in disbelief, her eyes glistening with tears. She opened her mouth, as if to argue, then gave up, spun on her heel and dashed into the school.

  “What’s with Ruby Mae?”

  Christy turned to see David, crossing the lawn with his usual long, determined stride. He was carrying the textbook he used for the math class he taught in the afternoon.

  “She’s furious about our decision. Poor thing. I feel so badly for her. But she’s got to keep up with her schoolwork.” Christy shook her head. “It’s hard, being the disciplinarian. Just a few months ago, my parents were telling me what to do—trying, anyway. I’m not used to being the bad guy.”

  “Then you can imagine how I felt yesterday, telling my whole congregation to stop doing something that they insist is their God-given right.” David gazed back at the mission house. “The doctor and I had another argument this morning. He insisted I shouldn’t have given that sermon. And that the reception it got shouldn’t have surprised me.”

  “And what did you say?” Christy asked.

  “I told him to mind his own business—”

  “To which he said, you should be minding yours,” Christy finished his explanation.

  David gave a grim smile. “You do know how the doctor’s mind works, don’t you?”

  “Yes.” Christy laughed.

  Just then, she heard a low grunt coming from the rear of the school. One of the hogs who resided under the building sauntered out into the sunshine, making its way along the side of the school.

  “Looks like Mabel’s up
from her nap,” Christy said, pointing to the big hog.

  “Mabel?”

  “Creed Allen named her. Says she looks like his Great-aunt Mabel over in Big Gap— except for the tail, of course.”

  “I’ll wager that Mabel’s the only one who heard my sermon yesterday and didn’t mind it.”

  “I thought it was a very fine sermon,” Christy said.

  “Thanks—” David began, then paused. “Am I crazy, or is that hog walking a bit oddly?”

  They watched as Mabel took a few faltering steps. She was walking on a slant, as if she were fighting a stiff wind.

  “Very strange,” Christy murmured. “Maybe she’s sick. Let’s go check it out.”

  As they approached the side of the school, Christy noticed an intense, almost sickeningly sweet, medicine-like odor. Toward the back of the building, she stumbled over a broken jug. Nearby were several hogs, stretched out asleep—very asleep. As Christy and David approached, they did not stir. They were breathing heavily.

  David stared at the pigs. He gently poked first one and then another with his foot, but they just kept snoring.

  “This is very odd,” Christy said. The hogs never slept this soundly. Usually, she could hear them snuffling and rooting around under the building while she taught.

  “I don’t get it.” David stooped to look under the floor. “It’s almost too dark to see anything. I’ll have to go in under there.”

  He crouched over, slowly making his way under the building. Christy could hear his fingers groping, then some boards being moved.

  Suddenly he gave a loud whistle. “Christy, you should see this!” David cried, his voice filled with amazement and anger.

  Six

  Christy knelt down. “What is it, David?”

  “Jugs, lots of them! Moonshine whiskey! I should have recognized the smell.”

  “But . . . right here, underneath the school?” Christy cried in disbelief.

  She heard voices and turned to see several of her students. Ruby Mae hung back from the group. Her face was red and blotchy from crying.

  “Miz Christy,” asked Creed Allen. “What in tarnation is wrong with all these hogs? Mabel’s walkin’ like she’s got her legs screwed on backwards. And the rest of ’em—well, I ain’t never heard this much hog-snorin’ in all my days!”

  “Christy,” David called from under the school, “can you take these jugs from me? I’ll hand them to you, one at a time.”

  “Just a minute, David. Some of the children are here—”

  “Let them see!” David called angrily. “Let them see the evil hidden under their own schoolhouse.”

  “What’s hidden?” asked Little Burl Allen, Creed’s sweet six-year-old brother. “Is the preacher a-playin’ hide-and-seek, Teacher?”

  “Not exactly, Little Burl,” Christy said, just as David passed her a thick brown jug. She set it on the ground. The children stared at it curiously.

  “Moonshine?” whispered John Spencer, one of the older students.

  “There’s moonshine under the school?” Creed cried. “No wonder them hogs is snorin’ so loud! They’s drunk on homemade whiskey!”

  Most of the children began to laugh, although a few of the older boys, like Lundy Taylor, kept watching Christy guardedly.

  “I know it seems funny,” Christy said as she accepted more jugs from David. “But this is no laughing matter, children.”

  “I’ll say it ain’t,” Lundy muttered darkly. “My pa says you-all are messin’ where you don’t belong. This ain’t the business of a teacher or a preacher-person.”

  David crawled out from under the floor space. His face was smudged with dirt. His eyes were hot with anger.

  “I heard that, Lundy,” he said as he stood. “And let me tell you something you can pass on to your pa. When I find illegal liquor on mission property, it becomes my business, whether your pa and his friends like it or not.”

  David stooped down and grabbed one of the jugs. He uncorked it and sniffed the contents with a look of disgust. Then he turned the jug upside down. The amber liquid gurgled and spattered as it poured onto the ground. The air filled with a sharp, sweet smell.

  “You ain’t got no right to throw away good moonshine like that!” Lundy cried.

  “There’s nothing good about moonshine, Lundy Taylor,” Christy said with feeling. “Didn’t you see what happened to Doctor MacNeill?”

  “But ain’t that worth a lot of money, Teacher?” Creed asked innocently. “Pa says moonshine fetches a big price, ’specially over the state lines where it’s hard to get.”

  “It’s also worth a lot of pain, Creed,” Christy said.

  David uncorked another bottle. His hands were trembling. Christy had never seen him so furious.

  “Children, I want you all to go back inside now,” she instructed.

  “But what about them hogs?” Little Burl asked, worried.

  “They’ll sleep it off, Little Burl,” Christy assured him, patting his tangled hair. “Don’t you worry.”

  “When my grandpa gets to drinkin’, he’ll sleep for two days straight,” said Bessie Coburn.

  “Yes, well, we can talk about that more inside,” Christy said, shooing the children away. Slowly they returned to class, until only Lundy was left. He was a big boy, almost as tall as David. And with the threatening look in his eyes right now, he seemed even bigger.

  “Do you know anything about who put these jugs here, Lundy?” Christy asked, her voice quivering.

  Lundy glared at her. “I ain’t a-tellin’ you nothin’ except this—you mission folks is makin’ a big mistake.”

  “Don’t you go threatening us, Lundy Taylor,” David warned.

  “We have to get rid of the moonshine, Lundy,” Christy said gently, yet firmly. “Can’t you see that?”

  Lundy backed away slowly. “All I see is a heap more trouble than the sorry likes of you can handle.”

  Without another word, he raced off into the thick woods.

  “I still don’t understand why they put the moonshine there,” Christy said at dinner that night. “Right under the church! It’s such a crazy place to store illegal liquor.”

  Silence fell over the table. It had been a tense meal. David was still fuming about the moonshine. Ruby Mae was still pouting about Prince. Doctor MacNeill, who’d insisted on coming downstairs to join them for dinner, was still running a fever. Miss Alice was gathering up supplies. She was on her way to help a woman in Big Gap deliver a baby. And Miss Ida was annoyed that no one was eating the meal she’d prepared.

  “I wonder how long those jugs have been down there,” Christy continued.

  “They may have put them there long ago,” David suggested, “thinking it would be the last place anyone would look. Or it could have been a defiant gesture—an answer, if you can call it that, to my sermon last Sunday.”

  “Come to think of it, I did hear noises out by the school late last night,” Christy said.

  “You were outside last night?” David asked in surprise.

  Christy glanced over at Ruby Mae. “Oh, just for a few minutes. A little walk, to clear my head.”

  David looked over at the doctor. “I suppose, with this latest development, you’re dying to say I told you so?”

  Doctor MacNeill shifted positions in his chair. He’d barely touched his food. “No, David,” he said after a moment of reflection. “I’m not about to gloat. What would be the point?”

  “Since when do you keep your opinions to yourself?” David demanded.

  The doctor sighed heavily. “I will tell you this. I am worried about this situation. It was one thing to preach a sermon about moonshine. It was quite another to dump out jug after jug. That was someone’s property, like it or not—”

  “Property!” David cried. “That was illegal liquor, on my property!” He paused. “On our property, I should say.”

  “That’s not the point,” the doctor said. “The point is that you’ve just added fuel to a very dangerou
s fire. I’m worried that whoever put that moonshine there will try to retaliate now.”

  “Retaliate?” Miss Ida echoed. “Against whom?” “Against the mission. Against David, or maybe Christy. After all, the children witnessed them dumping the moonshine together.”

  David looked at Christy and frowned. “I’m the one who did the dumping and gave the sermon. Why would they act against Christy?”

  “Because she represents the mission, too,” the doctor answered. “In a way, she has more contact with these people than you do. You see them every Sunday for an hour, if you’re lucky. She’s the one teaching the children of these moonshiners, every single day.”

  The doctor winced as he tried to reach for a glass of water. Ruby Mae moved it closer for him. “Thanks, Ruby Mae. Say, you’ve been awfully quiet this evening.”

  Ruby Mae stared at her plate, her lower lip jutting.

  “She’s pouting,” Christy explained.

  “And why is that?” asked Doctor MacNeill.

  “They won’t let me take care of Prince anymore and he’s just gonna plain starve out there without me!” Ruby Mae cried.

  “Ruby Mae,” David said gently, “I fed Prince an hour ago. He ate like . . . well, like a horse. Trust me. He is not going to starve.”

  “Without me, he’s a-goin’ to starve for love!” Ruby Mae cried.

  Christy smiled at the doctor. “Tell us, Doctor. Have you ever come across such a medical condition?”

  “Starving for love. Hmmm. Hmmm.” The doctor tapped his finger on his chin. “There have been documented cases, although they usually appear in the human male.” He grinned at Christy. “Now, in a mammal the size of a horse, I would think it would take, oh, a good two months or so for any symptoms to develop.”

  “Two months,” Christy repeated, winking at the doctor. “That’s plenty of time for you to get your schoolwork and chores back on track, Ruby Mae.”

  “What does he know?” Ruby Mae said. “He ain’t no horse doctor.”

  “By the way, have you started on that English homework I assigned?” Christy asked.