by Bliss Lomax
The shooting had not been mentioned, and though Elly chattered like a magpie as she tried to keep step with Eudora on the long walk to the schoolhouse, she made no reference to it. Eudora was above trying to draw her out, though she suspected the child wasn’t totally ignorant about it. She found the youngster’s prattling enlightening, not to say disturbing, when it touched on the Caney children.
“You’re too nice a little girl, Elly, to be saying such dreadful things,” she protested firmly. “I’m not acquainted with Cissy Caney, but she can’t be as mean and wicked as you say.”
“Yes, she is, Miss Stoddard!” Elly insisted. “I hate all them Caneys!”
“All those Caneys,” Eudora corrected.
“All those Caneys,” Elly parroted. “The whole pack of them tell lies and cheat. Verne says they’ll steal the pennies off a dead man’s eyes if they get the chance. But I’m not afraid of Cissy, less she’s got Lorenzo and that big Jeb to help her.”
“Elly, do you mean to tell me the three of them attacked you?” Eudora demanded incredulously.
“Right in the schoolyard! They knocked me down and Cissy pulled my hair something awful. But Verne laid for ’em and gave Jeb and Lorenzo a good punching.”
Eudora knew she was venturing on dangerous ground in offering advice, but she refused to remain silent. It made her blood run cold to see how the feud between Webb Nichols and Shad had poisoned the minds of their children.
“The thing for you to do, Elly, is to go straight home from school. You won’t have any trouble if you do.” Elly would have contradicted her, but she said, “Let me finish! There’s always two sides to every story. When the Caney children come to me with their side of it, I’ll give them the same advice I’m giving you. I won’t permit any of you to loiter around the schoolhouse after class has been dismissed. Nor will there be any quarreling in the yard at the noon recess. If there is, whoever takes part in it will be sent home promptly. And they won’t be allowed back until they have convinced me they mean to behave themselves. I want to make things as pleasant as I can for all of you, but you children will have to do your part.”
She realized Elly was very young to be spoken to so seriously. She felt certain, however, that the little girl would repeat their conversation to her brothers, and she had spoken with that in mind, feeling she had been given an opportunity to make her position known that was not to be missed.
Elly had begun to lose some of her enthusiasm for her new teacher. The laughter had faded from her eyes and the expression that settled on her mouth was sullen. Eudora put an arm about the child’s shoulders and gave her an affectionate hug. Pretending not to be aware of the pouting lips, she said, “I’m sure you’ll help me, Elly, and that will mean a lot to me. But we won’t say anything more about it; it’s too nice a morning for us to be troubling our heads with such things. Do you know the song about the gingerbread boy who jumped out of the cooky jar?”
“I know part of it,” Elly answered, without looking up.
“Suppose you sing it with me,” Eudora urged. “It’s a jolly song. Hold out your hand—First a pit, and then a pat.”
Elly knew the song well enough, and Eudora soon had her laughing and smiling again.
When they reached the schoolhouse, they found the front door smeared with dried blood. The carcass of a dead jack rabbit lay on the ground beside the steps.
“I bet Jeb Caney did it!” Elly declared at once. “Their place is only a couple of miles east of Jerusalem Crick. When he’s out hunting, he comes this way.”
Eudora bit her lips. “I’ll get some soap and water and give the door a scrubbing.”
She found the appointments of the school less primitive than she expected. Elly knew where everything was to be found, from the bell to the closet where the broom and dustpan were kept.
Eudora rolled up her sleeves and put on an apron. “I’ll scrub that door before I do anything else!” she said, more to herself than Elly.
The latter took a bucket out to the well and filled it. Armed with a stiff brush and soap, Eudora soon had the door clean and shining. Elly laughed as she saw her looking askance at the dead rabbit. Without any ado, she picked it up by its long ears and tossed it over the fence. “There’s nothing about a rabbit that’ll hurt you, Miss Stoddard.”
Eudora shuddered. “I don’t suppose there is,” she admitted. “But you go to the pump and wash your hands, Elly. And then you had better be starting back. I promised your father—”
“Can’t I clean the blackboard before I go?” the youngster pleaded.
“Yes, you may. But then you’ll have to go.”
When Elly left, Eudora stood on the steps and watched her tripping down the road. I suppose Aunt Jude would call her a little savage, she thought, and shook her head. I’m going to like Elly.
For half an hour, she busied herself rearranging her desk. She felt singularly self-possessed as she sat there alone in the empty schoolroom. She filled the seats with, imaginary pupils and pretended to address them in a silent rehearsal of what she would say on Monday morning. Even with the sunshine streaming through the windows, the room was drab.
The first time I go into Mescal, I must remember to clip some pictures from the magazines, she thought. Some gay prints will brighten the walls. I’ll get some geranium slips from Aunt Jude too. Flowers in the windows are always cheerful.
Her predecessor had left a record of the work that had been accomplished up to the close of the last term. Seventeen pupils had attended the Willow Creek school during the winter, the majority of them in the lower grades.
The frequent erasures in the report made it hard to follow and seemed to indicate some confusion in the mind of the compiler.
I shouldn’t wonder! Eudora thought. Teaching four grades in one room could confuse anyone.
She sat there struggling with it for some time, when she became conscious of a shadow at the west window. She looked up and was thoroughly startled to find a man peering in at her. As she stared at him helplessly, he left the window and she could hear him hurrying around to the door, where he took the key out of the lock. When he stepped in, he closed the door behind him.
Eudora had got to her feet, not knowing what to expect.
“You needn’t be scared, ma’am,” he said. “Reckon I look purty tough this mornin’, but don’t let that bother you.”
He had a crooked smile that Eudora found engaging, frightened though she was. His right arm hung helplessly by his side. Her eyes widened as she gazed at it.
“Your arm!” she exclaimed. “You’ve been shot!”
“It ain’t nuthin’ serious,” he drawled. “You’ve got to do me a favor. I’m in a little bit of a fix— No, I don’t mean bind up my arm. I want you to git out of here. There’s some parties lookin’ for me. They’ll be comin’ down the road in a few minutes. When they show up, I want you to step out and let ’em see you lockin’ the door. You go on back to Nichols’s place, then. These gents will ask you if you’ve seen me. I’ll appreciate it, ma’am, if you tell ’em no.”
From the moment he had entered, Eudora had found something faintly familiar about him. What he had said quickened her memory. Finally, she was sure.
“You’re Steve Jennings, the rustler! I’ve seen your picture on the reward notices in Mescal!”
She felt her knees shaking.
“Yeh, I’m Steve Jennings, ma’am,” he admitted, with a grin.
Chapter Five
AN OBSERVING YOUNG WOMAN
THE MEANING of the gunfire she had witnessed on Willow Creek was no longer a mystery to Eudora.
She saw Jennings bite back a wince of pain.
“These boys who are hot on my trail are a bunch of Ringe’s punchers. Is it goin’ to do you any good to turn me over to ’em?” he asked. “The trouble between us don’t concern you, ma’am.”
“Why should you come to me for help?” she demanded, with rising indignation. “I’ve been warned by some members of the school board to
mind my own business. I didn’t know that included concealing their rustler friends.”
Jennings grinned ruefully again. “I didn’t mean it to happen this way. Reckon they didn’t either. I made a mistake, comin’ down the Wash in broad daylight. Big John’s boys spotted me and kinda upset my plans.”
“You’ll come to a horrible end,” Eudora said firmly. “I understand there’s a price on you in several states. If I helped you now I wouldn’t have the excuse of thinking I was giving you a chance to get away and make a fresh start. You haven’t any intention of changing your ways.”
Steve’s smile faded and his face fell into sober lines. “I reckon that’s right,” he drawled. “It’s a little late for me to be changin’ my ways. The law’s got too many grudges ag’in me.”
Eudora gazed at him pityingly. In his faded overalls and sweat-stained Stetson, this tow headed man, with his winning smile, bore little resemblance to the dangerous, cold-blooded outlaw of the stories she had heard.
“You can’t escape on foot.” She wasn’t aware of it, but her tone was brusque, even scolding. “Where have you left your horse?”
“I had my bronc shot out from under me last night, a couple miles down the crick.” He jerked his head to indicate his wounded arm. “That’s where I got that.”
“So it was you!” Eudora charged. “I thought so!”
Jennings’s eyes puckered questioningly. “How did you know anythin’ about it, ma’am?”
Her explanation satisfied him. He had watched the road as he talked. Suddenly, he reached with his left hand got his gun out of the holster. Eudora felt her throat tighten.
“You better git down on the floor,” he advised grimly. “They’re comin’, there’s shore to be some shootin’.”
“You fool!” she cried. “You wouldn’t have a chance—four against one! You get into this closet, so they won’t see you if they look in. I’ll lie for you this once; but don’t expect it of me a second time.”
“There won’t be another time if I can help it,” Steve answered, with his winning smile. “And thank you, ma’am!”
Eudora whipped off her apron and stepped out. The four horsemen coming up the road were less than 100 yards away. Pretending to be unaware of them, she locked the door carefully, making sure they saw her. Amazed that she could be so calm, she went down the path and started walking in their direction. The four men reined in as she approached.
Eudora greeted them with an impersonal smile. She remembered having seen at least two of them on the street in Mescal at various times.
“Just a minute, ma’am,” one interjected, as she would have continued on her way. “Yo’re Dan Stoddard’s niece and the new teacher yere, ain’t you?”
Eudora acknowledged that this was so.
“How long you been at the school this mornin’. Miss Stoddard?”
“I—I don’t know. Several hours, I should think,” Eudora replied, managing to hide her nervousness. “Why do you ask?”
“We’re lookin’ fer Steve Jennings,” said the puncher. “We know he ain’t far ahead of us. Have you seen anyone lurkin’ around here? He’s wounded; we don’t know how bad.”
“Steve Jennings!” Eudora exclaimed in a shocked voice, her real and pretended alarm blending convincingly. “I’m sure I wouldn’t have remained here a minute if I had seen him. I thought I heard someone ride past some time ago. I was busy, so I didn’t go to the window.”
“It’s what I told yuh, Cleve,” a second man spoke up. “Nichols has fixed him up with a hoss.”
Cleve shook his head. “I don’t believe it! We had him cut off in that direction. He’s most likely makin’ for Caney’s place.” He touched his hat and gave Eudora an admiring glance. “I’m sorry we bothered you, Miss Stoddard. If you run into Steve, you don’t have to worry about him harmin’ you none. I reckon you could capture him without half tryin’.”
Eudora gazed at him blankly, pretending not to have heard the compliment. He kneed his horse and jogged off with his companions. It was all she could do to keep from glancing back as she continued on her way. She heard them pull their horses to a walk at the school; but after a moment’s hesitation, they went on. Her taut nerves began to relax, and she breathed a sigh of relief. Now that the ordeal was over, she felt weak and exhausted.
Webb and Verne were not at the table at noon. Mrs. Nichols said they were working in the north pasture and might not be in until late. Elly and her brother Moroni seemed strangely quiet and restrained. It made Eudora wonder if they had some inkling of what had happened at the schoolhouse and had been charged not to mention it. As for herself, she had resolved to say nothing unless Webb, or one of the family, brought it up.
With the long afternoon ahead of her, she unpacked her trunk and rearranged the cabin to her liking. Her mind was preoccupied with Steve Jennings and the possible consequences of what she had done. A dozen times she stopped at the window and gazed at the schoolhouse, wondering if he had opened a window and let himself out, or if he was still hiding there, waiting for darkness to cover his escape. She realized if her part in it ever became known it was sure to win her the unremitting hostility of John Ringe.
And I was going to be so careful not to become involved! she thought reproachfully. But I don’t know what else I could have done. He was wounded; I didn’t want to see him killed before my eyes.
Elly came over about five o’clock with the freshly ironed curtains.
“Come in and help me put them up,” Eudora urged. “I’ve moved the furniture around a bit. Tell me how you like it, Elly.”
“It looks real pretty,” the little girl declared. “None of the other teachers ever bothered much about fixing things up.”
Elly seemed as friendly as ever, but Eudora couldn’t help feeling the child was mindful of what she talked about. She was delighted with a pale blue ribbon Eudora gave her.
“I wisht I could wear it in my hair tomorrow,” Elly said. “But Mormons don’t wear bright colors to church. Elder Whitman says vanity in a woman is sinful.”
Eudora was glad her head was turned so she could smile. “You can wear it to school next week,” she told Elly. “A little girl can have pretty things without being vain. I’m sure Elder Whitman would agree with me. I didn’t know there was a Mormon church in the basin. Where is it located, Elly?”
“Down White Pine way. But it isn’t really a church or meeting house, Miss Stoddard. It’s just Elder Whitman’s barn. When the weather is fine, he has services in his yard.” She glanced toward the house with sudden uneasiness. “I better be going before I get a scolding; I’ve got to gather eggs.”
“That sounds like fun,” Eudora exclaimed. “Do you mind if I come along?”
Elly’s eyes brightened. “Sure you can come! You better not go into the hen house, though; it’s awful dirty. I’ll run to the house and get my basket.”
As they walked down the yard together Eudora saw Webb disappearing into the barn. He was carrying a kettle of water, so hot, steam was rising from it. Verne sat in the barn’s wide doorway, oiling a piece of harness. He smiled timidly at Eudora and followed her with his eyes as she passed.
Bruno, the dog, barked at them as they neared the woodshed.
“Verne says he won’t bite,” Eudora remarked.
“He won’t,” Elly agreed. “You can pet him if you let him smell your hand first.”
They stopped, and Eudora quickly made friends with the dog. “I hope they haven’t chained you up on my account, Bruno.”
“No, we got to keep him chained for a couple days,” Elly explained. “Verne set out some baits for the coyotes this afternoon. Papa says they’re getting too thick for anything.”
The corral that had been empty that morning now held half a dozen horses. Eudora wondered if one of them, by any chance, was for Steve Jennings.
After peering into the littered hen house, she decided to take Elly’s advice to remain outside. With amused interest she watched the antics of a scolding Whi
te Leghorn hen and her scurrying brood. Two roosters got into an altercation. Eudora laughed at the haughty disdain with which the old hen ignored them.
Elly had her basket filled when she came out. Eudora offered to carry it. “It’s been a long while since I carried a basketful of eggs,” she said.
Going up the yard, they passed close to the open barn door. An unmistakably carbolic odor reached Eudora’s nostrils. Hot water and a carbolic disinfectant would be used to treat a gunshot wound. The thought leaped through her mind that Steve Jennings had made his way to the barn; that Webb was caring for him and had posted Verne at the entrance to stand guard.
She sniffed to let Elly know she had caught the odor, and said innocently, “Your father must have a sick animal on his hands.”
“Pshaw! We don’t keep the stock in the barn,” the youngster said without thinking. The words were no sooner out, however, than she seemed to realize she had made a slip. “You say the strangest things, Miss Stoddard!” she complained, and had no more to say.
It was enough for Eudora; she was certain beyond any doubt that Steve Jennings was in the barn.
There was very little conversation at the table that evening. Webb remarked that he had put in a hard day, but at what, he didn’t say. Mrs. Nichols looked weary, and her labors were not finished. As soon as supper was over, Verne picked up a pair of folded towels and wrapped them around a bar of soap. “Come on,” he said to Moroni.
“Gee, I bet the water’s cold!” Elly exclaimed as the two boys started for the creek and the weekly Saturday-night bath.
“Cold for sissy girls, I guess!” Moroni retorted, his tone expressing how disdainful he was of the comparative luxury Elly and little Hagar enjoyed of warm water in a washtub on the kitchen floor.
Webb told Eudora they were driving to White Pine in the morning and would be leaving early.
“There’s no need of yo’re gittin’ up, Miss Stoddard,” Mrs. Nichols said. “That is, if you don’t mind gittin’ yore own breakfast. You can come over whenever you git ready.”
Eudora thanked her. “But if I happen to be up before you leave, don’t bother about me,” she urged. “I know you’ll be anxious to get started.”