by Erica Vetsch
Aunt Georgette’s begonia, the one she wanted to enter in the Garden Fair, is showing signs of rebellion. Something about wilting leaves or black spots or some such. Anyway, she’s in a perfect dither about it.
That’s all I can think about to tell you, since you haven’t been gone long enough for anything to really happen. Hope all is well with you, and write soon. I’d love to hear about your adventures up there in the Great North.
Charlotte Louise Cox
Savannah smoothed the pages on her knee and read her youngest sister’s note.
Savannah,
I wish you’d write to Aunt Carolina and convince her that it isn’t at all scandalous for young girls to visit the ice cream parlor as long as they are in a group. She has some notion that mobs of young men hang about such places just waiting to prey upon unsuspecting girls. I mean, really. If a group of us girls happen to be at the ice cream parlor at the same time as some young men stop in, we can’t really be blamed for that, can we? And it isn’t wrong to visit and be polite, is it?
Anyway, ask her, will you?
I see above that Lottie mentioned Aunt Georgette’s problem. I’ve dubbed it The Begonia Disaster of ’87. It’s quite comical, except that I do feel sorry for her. She sets such store by those flowers and her garden club and all.
Miss you lots. Write and tell us what life’s like up there. I can’t imagine.
Is it snowing yet?
Ginny
A blanket of homesickness settled around Savannah. Funny, she hadn’t thought how much she would miss Charlotte and Virginia. They’d been close, but then Savannah had met Girard, and he had taken all her time and focus. She’d neglected her sisters, and they’d grown apart from her over the past year.
Thoughts of Girard drew her to Aunt Carolina’s letter. Susannah found herself sitting straighter, smoothing her skirts...even as her feet splashed in the creek. A laugh forced its way past the tightness in her throat. If Aunt Carolina could see her now, she’d be scandalized. A lady simply didn’t drop down by a stream, disrobe her feet and plop them into the water.
Susannah pulled the pages from the envelope, keeping Girard’s on the bottom and opening her aunt’s letter first.
Savannah,
I had thought to wait a week before sending you a letter, but then this envelope arrived in the post. I was of two minds whether to even send it on, but in the end, I decided that you deserved to hear whatever explanation Mr. Brandeis cared to submit. He owed you that much.
I have many things I would like to say on the subject of your ex-fiancé, but I will merely caution you to be careful. He was always one for fine words, and I would hate for you to be swayed by them into forgiving him and accepting him back into your life. In this respect, I’m grateful that you took a job so far away. It would appear that Girard is not aware of your relocation, therefore, unless you choose to tell him (which I strongly hope you will not) he will be unable to contact you directly.
Your father will be making a brief visit home in a fortnight. He has been informed of your absence here, but a letter from you wouldn’t go amiss.
We’re all most curious as to your situation there, your accommodations, the reception you’ve received and how the first few days have gone.
Write soon,
Sincerely,
Aunt Carolina
Savannah could hear her aunt’s voice in every word, see her concentrating as she wrote at her desk. Tears pricked her eyes. Aunt Carolina had never been demonstrative and wasn’t one to endure overt emotion, but Savannah had never doubted her love.
Her heart picked up an erratic rhythm as she fingered Girard’s envelope. The temptation to flick it into the river and let it wash away flashed into her head. And yet she wanted to hear what he had to say for himself, how he could possibly justify what he’d done.
Finally, she slit the envelope and drew out the single sheet.
Savannah,
It was never my intention to hurt you, though I know I did. I apologize for that. At the last moment I realized that I couldn’t go through with our wedding. I am not in love with you, and I know now that I never was.
The truth is, just before I met you, the woman I had been courting for over a year broke off our relationship. I was angry and hurt, and I had to get out of New Orleans for a while. When I agreed to go to that party at your house with my cousin and I saw you, I thought you would be just the thing to take my mind off Jeanette. You were sweet and young and beautiful. Before I knew it, things had gotten out of hand, we were engaged and the wedding plans escalated.
My heart will always be Jeanette’s. When I left you at the altar, it was to return to New Orleans to plead my case with her one last time. To my joy, we are reunited once more and will marry by the end of the month.
I know this is crass, but would you please return the engagement ring I gave you? It’s a family heirloom.
Girard.
The blood drained from Savannah’s head and dizziness swirled before her eyes. He never loved me. He used me.
He wants the ring back to give to her.
Crumpling the paper, Savannah tossed it into the water. It bobbed and swirled, then disappeared under the bridge. Nothing made sense anymore. He had courted her only as a distraction for his broken heart? What kind of man did that? What kind of woman grieved over such a man?
“Well, not this one.” She dusted her hands together and drew her feet out of the water. “I’m shutting the door on that chapter of my life forever.” Using the edge of her petticoat, she dried her feet and restored them to her stockings and the too tight shoes. She rose and began the walk back to the Halvorsons’. “From now on, Savannah Cox, you rely on yourself and no one else. There’s not a man on this globe that is trustworthy.” She wouldn’t be foolish enough to rely on a mere male again.
Chapter Seven
Elias looked up from cleaning one of his rifles as a shadow darkened the doorway of the sheriff’s office.
He hadn’t seen her for almost two weeks, and he was struck afresh at how pretty she was. In spite of her parasols, the sun had kissed her cheeks, giving her some color. She wore a blouse almost as blue as her eyes.
“Morning.” He set aside the gun and rose. Cap’s tail thumped the floor and he waggled to his feet, his nails clicking as he trotted over to greet her.
“Good morning. I hope I’m not interrupting.” She stepped over the threshold. Her fancy bonnet framed her face, all ribbons and flowers and ruffled lining. He hated that it covered her bright hair. She hesitated and then patted Cap’s broad head.
“Not at all. You come into town with the Halvorsons?” The community bustled beyond the door, busy with farmers and their families in town to do their Saturday trading. He’d seen his pa down by the harness shop. Today was the date set for scheduling the harvest, so all the men for miles around were gathered at the far end of the street to get on the list for the threshers.
“Yes, I had some things to mail. I hoped to see you last Sunday.” She toyed with one of her cuff buttons. “Your father said you had to travel for your work?”
He ignored the thump of his heart at the notion that she might’ve missed him while he’d been away. “The US Marshal’s office asks from time to time when they’re stretched thin if local law enforcement can transport prisoners. I had to take a fellow they apprehended over in Pipestone to stand trial in Mankato.” Elias wiped his hands on a rag. The smell of gun oil lingered in the air. “It only happens maybe once or twice a year.”
She studied the room, his desk, the small cells in the back, the potbellied stove, the gun rack in the corner, and she kept fidgeting with her sleeve button, as if she couldn’t quite make up her mind what to say.
“Was there something you needed, or is this a social call?” He’d be surprised with either circumstance, sinc
e she’d been pretty clear that she didn’t need his help or interference. But why else would she be at the jail?
“It’s most awkward. I would take care of the problem if I had any notion how, and I’d ask Mr. Halvorson, but there’s still quite a communication gap...” Two small lines appeared between her brows, distracting Elias for a moment. “I need some assistance with a small matter.”
She paused.
“Just ask.” He leaned against the desk and crossed his arms.
“Well, there’s a terrible odor lingering around the school. At first I thought one of the boys was playing a prank, but now I understand that a skunk has taken up residence under the front steps of the schoolhouse. I’m at a loss to know how to remove the animal. I’ve never seen one, and I’ve certainly never smelled one.” Her pert little nose wrinkled. “Johann drew one and pointed to the front stoop so I would understand what had occurred.”
Elias grinned. “Never smelled a polecat before? You were sheltered. I guess I could come out and take care of it for you.”
“Thank you.” Her face relaxed and she actually smiled. “I didn’t know what else to do.”
“I warn you, it’s going to smell for a while. Aside from the nuisance of having one under the stairs, skunks are often hydrophobic.” Elias bent to open a drawer and withdraw his sidearm. Better to use the pistol rather than a shotgun under the steps. He didn’t want to splinter the treads and risers using a scattergun. “We can’t risk you or one of the kids getting bitten, so I’ll have to shoot the varmint. When I do, he’s going to stink up the place. But the odor will diminish over time. In a week or so, you won’t smell it much at all, hopefully.”
“Thank you. I’ve been carrying a handkerchief soaked in rosewater, but even that hasn’t been enough.” She tugged a hankie from her sleeve, all lace and embroidery, and the floral scent drifted toward him.
What a feminine bit of frippery. He buckled on his gun, glancing at the clock. “I’ll go now. That way you’ll have the rest of today and all of Sunday for the place to air out.”
“Could I go with you? I still have some cleaning to do. I could just let the Halvorsons know.”
“Sure. I’ve got the buckboard.”
While she tracked down Per and Agneta, Elias ducked into the feed store to let someone know where he’d be for a while.
“Don’t hurry back.” Gar Joren grinned, his teeth gapped like a broken comb. “Wouldn’t mind driving around the countryside with a pretty teacher myself if I was twenty years younger.”
Mikkel Torgerson elbowed him. “If you were forty years younger, you mean.”
They all shared a laugh, and Elias made his escape. His step was light, but he refused to examine why he felt so good. Cap trotted at his side and leaped into the buckboard.
“You go in the back today, old son.” Elias pointed to the short bed behind the seat. Cap gave him a morose look, but hopped over and plopped onto the dusty boards.
Elias helped Savannah into the buckboard, noting the soft blue-and-pink plaid of her skirts. The colors reminded him of the rosemaling his mother did on winter evenings. Coming from the mountain valley of Valdres in the Old Country, she had learned the skill of folk painting from her own mother, creating works of art out of the most mundane objects.
He glanced at Savannah. Ever since he’d delivered those letters from her home, he’d been wondering how they would affect her. Would they make her so homesick that she would leave? And who was Girard Brandeis? And why was his letter tucked inside one from her aunt?
But Savannah was as self-contained and remote as ever. He’d seen her truly relaxed and free only twice, once when she was racing Elsker across the prairie, and then when she’d been playing that harp. In those moments, she’d let down her guard. At all other times, she held herself tight and controlled. Was that her natural state, or had something happened to make her wary?
They clipped along at a good pace. Huge, puffy clouds drifted lazily across the sky, and the heavy heads of grain waved in the sunshine. “Harvest will start soon. Tyler explained that there’s no school during harvest, right?”
“Actually, it was your father who told me, just today.” She frowned. “I asked why there were so many men in town, and he told me about the threshing crews and how everyone pitched in, including the children.”
“And you don’t like the idea?”
“What makes you say that?”
“Because you’re a teacher. All teachers hate to lose school days. Every schoolteacher we’ve ever had grumbled about time out for harvest.” Elias flicked the lines, anchoring his elbows on his knees.
“I can’t say I like the idea of missing school, but I see the need, especially once your father was so kind as to explain it to me. He said the women help with the cooking and feeding of the workers, and that at the end, there’s a community dance to celebrate.”
“Highlight of the year around here. Folks come from as far as fifty miles.” Elias imagined her at the dance, fancy clothes, light steps and a score of young bucks just waiting to lead her out onto the floor. His fingers tightened on the reins.
“If that many people come, you must need a large place. Do they hold the party at the church?”
He sat up straight. “Of course not.”
“Did I say something wrong?” She turned troubled blue eyes his way.
“Norwegians like to go to church and Norwegians like to dance, but they don’t mix the two. The party is held outside unless it’s too cold or rainy, then they move everything into Larson’s barn. Larson’s got the biggest barn in the county, so there’s plenty of room.”
She smoothed her hands along her skirts. “It’s so frustrating. I’m trying to fit in, and to understand, but there are so many little things that are different. I feel as if I’m in constant danger of making a faux pas. Not only are things different because I’m from the South and this is the North, but throw in an entirely different culture on top, and I don’t know where I am. I dress wrong. I speak wrong. I don’t know the food or the customs. Just yesterday I made the mistake of opening Mr. Halvorson’s cupboard. I didn’t know. I thought it was a spice cupboard, like the one in the other corner. I think everyone gasped, and Mrs. Halvorson hurried over and closed the door, leading me away like a naughty child. It’s like walking the edge of a precipice.”
“I never even thought to tell you about the man of the house’s cupboard.” Elias shrugged. It was such a part of his life, he hadn’t thought it needed explaining. A Norwegian man’s cupboard held his pipe and tobacco, or his special knives, or his important documents. Nobody in the house touched it. The woman of the house had her own wall cupboard for her things. He hadn’t considered all the small ways that would seem foreign to Savannah.
She smoothed a stray hair off her cheek. “I should write a book, a list of things for the next schoolteacher to know and be aware of so she doesn’t make a complete fool of herself.”
The next schoolteacher. Here only a couple of weeks and already talking about her replacement. Don’t forget what happened last time. Keep your head, boy.
A hundred feet from the schoolhouse, the unmistakable scent of polecat wafted on the breeze. “That’s a skunk, all right.” Elias pulled the buckboard up near the corral fence. “Don’t want to get the horses sprayed. I wish I had thought to leave Cap in town. Nothing worse than a dog who gets skunked.”
Savannah took his hand to climb down. “I could keep him with me. I have to do some outside chores. I scrubbed the pails and the water crock yesterday and left them out to dry, with all the cleaning rags.”
“That’ll be fine. It shouldn’t take me too long to sort this out. From the smell, I’d say the skunk must’ve gotten disturbed close by the school, so he might be skittish if he’s still under there. Just keep Cap with you and we should be fine.”
She disappeared a
round the building, and he sent the dog after her.
Elias surveyed the steps. Sure enough, one of the vertical boards along the side had loosened and stood askew, the perfect doorway for a varmint. The animal hadn’t even had to dig to get under the porch. Elias studied the opening. The trick was going to be taking care of the skunk without getting sprayed himself. Perhaps he could lure it out, get it away from the school before he shot it?
This was going to be tricky.
He leaped up the stairs and fetched a lantern from the shelf in the cloakroom. Easing down beside the broken board, he shone the light into the darkness under the porch. Two bright spots glittered back at him from the far corner.
Hmm. He was under there, all right. Elias stood and blew out the lantern. Maybe he was glad he had brought Captain, after all. If they made a racket on the other side of the porch, perhaps the skunk would dart out and take off. Then Elias could follow at a safe distance and take care of things away from the school. He put his fingers to his lips and let out a piercing whistle. His collie bounded around the school.
“Don’t worry about him, Savannah. Just stay back there,” Elias shouted.
Cap plopped onto his rump beside him, ears up, eyes bright.
“All right, boy. Come around here.” Elias led Cap to the far side of the porch, opposite the broken board, and near where the skunk crouched under the front step. “Speak.”
The dog gave a small woof, his tail stirring the grass. That wasn’t going to be enough to make the skunk come out.
“Speak, Cap. Speak!” Elias clapped his hands and raised his voice. He kicked the step where the skunk had crouched, hoping to drive it out.
Cap obliged, giving a loud bark.
“Good boy! Speak!”
Lifting his muzzle, Cap let loose a long string of barks, bounding to his feet. Elias put up his hand. “Good boy.”
Leaning to his left, he grinned. “Success. Sit! Stay!”