Suddenly summer was over and it was time to go back to school.
It took a week for the children to settle down, to focus and get their homework done. The sun was still bright and hot outside, the weather still good for swimming, and the school room was a new experience for all of them.
The men of the church had just finished it. The old, wide, barn boards were installed on the walls and white washed.
Hank Fairchild had made a blackboard and hung it up in the room, as well as making a small set of bookshelves for Marty’s use.
An old oak desk was donated along with a swivel chair, and a large table and chairs were found for the children. Marty went from child to child, helping them with their lessons.
Henry curled up on his blanket in the corner, content to be nearby. He was a great incentive for the children to settle down and work, because Marty sternly warned them that if they didn’t, Henry would be tied up on the porch until after school.
At the Davenport home, on school days, Crystal got her children up, helped them wash, and dressed them in their clean clothes, before serving their meager breakfast.
Then Aggie, Quint and Missy would walk the two miles to the parsonage.
It was hard on Missy at first, because she was so small. But she soon got strong enough to make the trip every day for lessons. She loved learning and looking at all the colorful books. And the lunches at Mrs. Madison’s house were so good, and then there was Henry to play with.
Tom and Marty had discussed picking the children up when the weather was bad. And when Marty mentioned it to Crystal, she was surprised at her rejection to the idea.
“I’d rather you didn’t. The children have to learn to fend for themselves. It’ll help them in life, if they can learn to be as independent as possible. Only if the weather is really bad, will I allow them to ride to school.”
But, on Wednesdays when Marty came by early to drop off her laundry, she convinced Crystal to let her give the children a ride.
“After all,” she told her, “it’s good for the children to learn to accept blessings from those that care about them, as well.”
On that day each week, she would set aside the normal lessons to teach the girls how to cook, or sew, while Tom tried to be there for the boys and had them help him stack firewood for the wood burning stove in the living room, or he would find something to fix, mend, or repair. There was always something to do and the boys worked beside the man who was nurturing them and guiding them in life.
As time passed, they settled into a routine that was normal, happy and productive.
Aggie learned to read quickly, and Marty found herself scrambling to find books for the child. Contacting her mother Ann back at the estate, she requested books, any good books that she could send to her for the library she wanted to start.
Before long, Aggie was taking the books home and after helping her mother, she would curl up on the couch or in her room and read. She read wonderful stories of faraway places, adventures and dramas. She just loved the books and couldn’t get enough of the stories they held.
Quintin did his homework, like Tyler and Sam, but the boys weren’t that interested in improving their minds. They wanted to play, build things, and explore.
Missy learned her ABC’s readily, and could count to one hundred, sort of. She loved the picture and coloring books, though she sometimes found it hard to remember which ones she could draw in.
By and by, daylight diminished as the season changed and fall drew near. Jackets, hats and gloves were found, while winter clothing was brought out from storage. Everyone was looking forward to the holidays.
Snow was falling again on the mountain peaks, while glacial breezes blew softly off the snows on high, making the days colder and the nights freezing.
Standing on the porch one day, bundled up, Marty watched her breath floating in the air. Fall had come and the trees were turning a vibrant yellow, gold, and red among the strong greens of the forest.
She realized the children would soon be taking their recess indoors and she thought about the games and activities they could do inside.
Tom and Ed were talking about elk hunting and putting some welcomed meat into the freezer. A lot of the men in town did this every year, providing for their families.
“Most of the time, we’ll hunt deer nearby. But once a year, a few of us go elk hunting over by Mount McDougal in Wyoming. If you can get one, the meat will last you for a whole year. We’ve got a campsite over there that we use all the time,” Ed explained. “It’s hard to get to, but worth it. The game is abundant in there and the success rate is high.”
“My father took me game hunting in Africa, to supplement our food supply too,” Tom told him. “He taught me how to handle a gun at an early age and we would practice shooting at the farm. But I’ve never killed anything. I’d help him clean his kill and pack it out, but I don’t know what it would be like to actually shoot something. I must admit I’m apprehensive about it. Would you be willing to teach me what you know?”
“Absolutely. We’ll practice out back. That way I can see what you know and fill in the blanks for you, probably the safest way to handle it.”
“What’s the hunting like here?” Tom wondered.
“Physically, very demanding, especially up there where you can walk for miles… up and down ridges, through gullies full of brush and never see anything. You’ll have to be careful what you shoot at and be sure to stay with one of us who’s done this before. You don’t want to get lost out there. If you don’t know what you’re doing, you might not come back at all,” Ed warned sternly. “You’ll probably stay with me and I’ll help you dress your kill and haul it out. Not an easy task most of the time. How do you feel about shooting an elk?”
“A little anxious, but I hope I can do it and do it well. If I’m going, there’s no reason to be squeamish about it. I need to feed my family just as much as the next man and I want to do my part.”
Ed smiled, liking the man’s attitude. “I’ll loan you a rifle and you can practice with it. You can learn to clean it and take care of it, as well. That’s part of the experience. And you’d better start doing a lot of walking, and lifting some weights, if you want to be fit enough for the hunt. The more you’re in condition, the better.”
Weeks before the trip, in the evenings before the sun went down, Pastor Tom practiced shooting in Ed’s back yard after walking the four miles to his place with his old hiking boots. When he was done, he’d walk home, using his flashlight, if he’d stayed too long.
Ed made sure to sight-in his rifles so the cross-hairs on the scope lined up with the flight of the bullets according to their range.
The experience of using a gun quickly came back to the pastor… the holding of his breath, squeezing the trigger, after sighting his mark through the scope, and then the kick from the explosion as the bullet left the gun.
I wonder what’s it going to be like to actually kill something? Will I make a mistake and hit something I’m not supposed to? What if I wound it and it suffers, running off where I can’t find it? Ed told me to take my time, to be sure of my shot. There will always be another time, he told me, if it’s not right. But he also said not to take too long, the chance could be gone in a flash, as well.
Tom sighed, Just don’t make a fool of yourself.
The trip was planned for mid-October, before the heavy snows. The men began getting out their sleeping bags, checking and cleaning their equipment, getting everything ready to go.
The excitement of getting away, out into the wilderness for a week was growing on the young pastor. To be among his new friends, to walk in God’s creation, and to put his skills as a hunter to the test, was intoxicating.
Tom checked over his list several times, as Marty made sure he had everything.
Fire
A Tale Of True Love Page 15