by Lois Lenski
“I won’t dare tell them I got lost,” she whispered to herself. “I’d never hear the end of it. Lost on the way home from school—what a big joke! They’d think it was funny. They’d tease the life out of me.”
Delores never knew how she got home, except that Sugar took her. After a long time, she found herself at Papa’s barn. Numb and half-frozen, she slid off the horse’s back, put Sugar in the barn and ran for the house.
“Oh, here you are at last!” cried Mama Wagner. “Why are you so late? Why can’t you start in time, when you see a storm is coming up? Darrell said he told you to get started right after recess. Ozzie and the boys came with the cattle long ago. They had to follow Becklers’ fence. That was the only way they could be sure of the direction. They’ve gone back now to look for some of the calves.”
Mama looked sharply at Delores for the first time. The girl had sunk down on a chair beside the stove. She was shivering with cold. Her face was white, and she held her hand to her side.
“I ran so fast,” she gasped, “I got the sideache.”
“Don’t you feel good?” asked Mama gently.
Sympathy was too much. Delores burst into tears. “I got lost…I couldn’t see where I was going…and Sugar started going every which way…”
“Ach! Now you are safe home,” soothed Mama, taking the big girl, on her lap as if she were little again.
“Lost on the way home from school?” Mama could not understand. “Why, you went all the way to town in the storm in vacation, and got Christy’s medicine. From school, you know the way home so well.”
“I found myself back up at Oak Leaf again,” sobbed Delores. “I knew I was lost when I saw the elevator. I slapped Sugar good and told her to take me home…” There! The whole story was out, and she hadn’t intended to tell it at all.
“Sugar did,” said Mama. “Sugar brought you safe home.”
“My side hurts, Mama,” said Delores.
“Ach! You must not run so fast,” said Mama.
CHAPTER VIII
Slumber Party
“WHAT DO YOU THINK, Miss Martin,” chuckled Darrell, “Delores got lost on her way home from school last Monday.”
“Oh, you old tattle-tale!” Delores rushed at her brother and began to wrastle with him. He seized her by the arm, gave it a twist and made her kneel. When he let her go, she tumbled over.
“She knew she was lost when she saw the elevator!” shouted Darrell, laughing. The children laughed too.
“She started home and ended up at the elevator!” teased Emil.
“It’s not funny, so there!” Delores stamped her foot angrily.
The children were back in school again, after a week’s absence. Winter attendance was always so irregular, no one thought anything of it. Pete Hummel drove up in his truck, dropped his children and rode off.
“Konrad Snider’s got the flu,” announced Peter. “He can’t come.”
“I stayed by Teacher for five nights,” bragged Hulda.
“Five nights?” asked Delores. “Why so long?”
Hulda shrugged her shoulders. “Nobody came for me. I slept in the cot.”
The Sticklemeyer cart appeared, but only Jacob and Fernetta were in it. “My brothers and sisters all got the mumps,” said Fernetta with a giggle. “All but Jacob and me. We had ’em three years ago.”
“I think spring’s comin’,” said Jacob. “Sky’s so pretty and blue.”
“SPRING—like fun!” laughed Darrell. “Wait till this January thaw gets over, and you’ll change your mind.”
“The snow’s gone down a lot,” said Emil Holzhauer, “on account of the warm southwest wind. That’s a chinook—it always brings a thaw.”
“I heard the wind whistling,” said Delores, “and I came out with my snowpants on. Pop said, ‘You think it’s thirty below?’ I was so hot, I took ’em off and left ’em home.”
“There’s one trouble with a thaw,” said Emil. “We can’t get to town because the roads are muddy and our bridge might wash out.”
“We haven’t been to the show since November,” said Fernetta.
“I haven’t been to town since Christmas,” grumbled Delores. “I never get to see Katie and Norine in the winter. But I heard a bird singing on the way to school. I think it was a horned lark. Maybe winter’s over. Did you wear your snowsuit?”
“Shoot, yes!” said Fernetta. “My Ma made me.”
“I wanted to wear a dress this morning,” said Hulda, “but Mama said it was too cold. She made me wear my jeans, one pair, not two.”
Just before the last bell rang, Sam Englehart brought Ruby. She rode in a homemade box sled hitched on behind her father’s horse. The children gathered round to see it.
“Silver kicks snow right in my face,” complained Ruby. “Mama said it would be warmer than riding horseback, but the blankets made me hot.”
“Did you bring any water, Mr. Englehart?” asked Miss Martin.
“Holy smoke!” said Sam. “I filled than ten-gallon can and came off without it. I’ll bring it when I come for Ruby tonight.”
“You’re not coming for me, Daddy,” said Ruby. “I’m staying by Teacher tonight. I brought my new blue pajamas in my-over-night bag.” She raised a small red suitcase, and all the children laughed.
“But Ruby…” Miss Martin began, “it’s such a nice day…”
“She just wants to show off her pajamas and over-night bag she got for Christmas,” said Fernetta.
“Daddy says it’s going to storm,” said Ruby, “so I’m staying all night.”
They all looked at Sam Englehart in surprise.
“We’re supposed to have a storm today,” said Sam, “according to the radio. These chinooks can’t be trusted, you know. Sometimes they bring the worst ones—but I sure hope it misses us.” He turned to Darrell as he went out. “Keep your eye on the weather, boy. This is the worst part of the winter and a storm can come up quickly. If it looks bad, don’t wait. Send the kids home in plenty of time.”
The change came slowly. First the blue sky turned to a dull gray. A light drizzle began, which turned to snow in half an hour. The wind veered around to the north. The children looked up from their books restlessly. They were all weather-wise and the wind disturbed them.
“It’s just a blustery wind,” said Miss Martin. “It’ll go down soon.”
Delores looked at Darrell. They smiled. They knew more about winds than Miss Martin did. At the afternoon recess, the children came running indoors to report that it was snowing hard.
Darrell said to Delores: “Here’s a nice snowstorm for you. How you gonna like riding home in this?”
“No fun,” said Delores. “Wish I’d worn my snowpants.”
“Gonna get lost again?” teased Darrell.
“Oh—you shut up! That’s not funny,” said Delores.
Work began, but Darrell was nervous. He could not settle down to his studies. A half hour passed. Then he said, “Miss Martin, I think I’d better go out and look at the weather.”
“Very well, Darrell.” Miss Martin respected the boy’s judgment.
When he came in, his face was serious. “We all better go home quick,” he said. “It’s drifting already. Soon it’ll be blizzarding. It’s gettin’ worse fast.”
School broke up immediately.
“Oh dear,” thought Miss Martin. “Can I get them all home—this time?” “Emil, you get your horse and go,” she said. “Peter and Hulda, you wait till somebody comes for you. Jacob, go hitch up your horse. Ruby, you said you plan to stay. Darrell and Delores, you have your horses to ride.”
Emil left first, before the others had their wraps on. Darrell and Delores faced each other. It was hard to decide what to do.
“If we stay,” said Delores, “we’ll be here. Tomorrow, I mean.”
“I’m going HOME,” said Darrell. “We got to go quick.”
“If we had a school radio, we could get the weather report and find out if it’s going to be a real blizza
rd,” said Delores.
“If we had a telephone, we could call our mothers up and ask them what to do,” said Fernetta.
“I’d like to talk in one of those things,” said Delores.
“Haven’t you ever?” asked little Hulda Hummel.
“No, I never,” said Delores.
“I have—at my Aunt Gertrude’s in town,” said Hulda, proudly.
“What does it sound like?” asked Delores.
“Criminy sakes!” exclaimed Darrell. “Don’t stand there talkin’ all day. Are you riding home or not, Delores?”
“Mama won’t even be looking for us,” said Delores. “She knows we’ve got sense enough to sleep here. She told me never to start out in a snowstorm again.”
“You’re a baby—you’ll get lost!” jeered Darrell. “Lost on the way home from school!”
“That’s not funny!” shouted Delores angrily. She started after her brother and began pounding his back with her fists. “Don’t you dare say that again!”
Jacob Sticklemeyer came rushing in. “Come on, Fernetta. Don’t be all day. Buckskin don’t like to stand with the snow blowin’ in his face.”
“Oh, shoot!” cried Fernetta. “Wish I could stay too and have some fun. I never stayed by Teacher yet, all on account of that old Buckskin.” She called good-by and ran out the door.
“Delores, you’re as bad as Ruby Englehart,” Darrell said angrily. “You just want to stay. We…I’ve got to go home!”
“Whatever for?” asked Delores. “We can sleep here.”
“I bet our cattle are down at the haystacks,” said Darrell. “I ought to be there to help go get them.”
“Let Ozzie do it,” said Delores. “What’s a hired man for? Ozzie and Phil have brought the cattle home long ago.”
“We can’t pay a cent here for our food,” said Darrell in a low voice. “Teacher won’t take it. And we shouldn’t be eating so much of her food.”
“Oh, Mama sends her cream and other stuff to eat,” said Delores.
“There’s no feed here for the horses,” said Darrell. “They can’t go two days without something to eat. We can’t starve our horses.”
Delores was as fond of the horses as Darrell. “Maybe we can find something here for them to eat.”
“And there’s that sick cow,” Darrell went on. “I planned to take her home tonight. I’ve got to do it, or she’ll be dead by tomorrow.”
“Oh, Darrell, just look at it!” Delores glanced out the window. “It’s getting worse while we talk. You can’t go out in this and chase a sick old cow home. She’s probably dead already.”
The boy stood still, staring out the window, watching the swirling snow in silence. Then he said slowly, “If I woulda went just when it first started blizzarding, I coulda got that cow home.”
“How could you?” said Delores. “School wasn’t even out yet.”
“I don’t want to stay,” said Darrell. “I want to go home.” There was despair in his voice. He sounded as if he were going to cry, but he didn’t.
Delores came up and put her arm around his shoulder. She wanted to say, “Now, don’t you cry,” but she didn’t, because she knew Darrell would give her a slap. “Mama’d give me heck if I let you go out in a storm like this.”
“You? You let me go?” snapped Darrell. “I’m a year older’n you. I’ll decide this for myself.”
Delores sat down at her desk and waited. Darrell was stubborn. Nobody could push him or boss him. She covered her face with her hands, so she wouldn’t see the swirling snow outside the windows. She wished there weren’t so many windows—a whole row of them. It was like being out in the storm again, on Sugar, not knowing which was the way home.
Miss Martin saw Darrell standing there. She asked him if he would feed Spike and pen him in the barn for the night.
“Oh dear,” thought Delores, “when he sees the horses in the barn, he’ll get on Nellie and head straight for home.”
Darrell was gone a long time. From the window Delores couldn’t even see the barn for the snow. The wind seemed to be howling and screaming at her. It was mocking her—it was daring her to follow Darrell and go home. Should she go outside and get on Sugar’s back? She sat still not knowing what to do. Teacher’s alarm clock ticked off the minutes.
Then suddenly the front door banged shut, and footsteps and voices were heard in the hall. Darrell came in, with Jacob and Fernetta Sticklemeyer behind him. Delores was relieved. He hadn’t gone home after all.
“Buckskin balked and wouldn’t go, Miss Martin,” explained Jacob. “Darrell helped me get him back in the barn. We had to put the horses in separate stalls so they won’t fight. Good thing your car wasn’t in the barn—we’d a had to move it out. Guess Fernetta and I will have to stay here tonight.”
“I’m glad you’re not going home,” said Miss Martin.
Darrell cheered up, now that he had Jacob for company. A loud roar at the door and Pete Hummel came stamping in.
“Come on, kids!” he cried. “We’re goin’ home in the jeep.”
There was no delaying this time. Hulda and Peter hurried as fast as they could, but snowpants, overshoes and coats took a long time.
“This is the second year I had my coat already, and it’s gettin’ too small,” said Peter, “but it still keeps me warm.”
“Don’t you think they ought to stay, Mr. Hummel?” asked Miss Martin. “It’s pretty bad out, and they’re so little…”
“Prairie kids got to be tough,” said Pete. “This weather ain’t nothing.” The Hummels went out and the door closed behind them.
“Miss Martin, if we stay, we want to help you,” said Darrell.
“Thank you, Darrell,” she replied. “Would you fix the furnace fire and get up some coal? Jacob can sweep the floor and Delores can wash the blackboards.”
Delores did not move. She leaned her head on her hand. She felt tired and half-sick. Then she got up and began to erase the blackboard.
“Teacher, can Ruby and me look in your grocery box and see what you got?” asked Fernetta.
“Yes, girls,” said Miss Martin. “Pick out a good supper. Let’s have one mystery dish, something you never tasted before.”
When Darrell came up from the cellar, his face looked serious and worried again. He brought a bucket of coal for the Heatola, but he put only a piece or two on the fire. “Miss Martin, there’s not much coal left.”
“I know, Darrell,” she said. “I’ve been using as little as I can. I hope it will take us through this storm.”
“Didn’t Pop…” Darrell began, but he knew the answer to his own question.
“Papa never brought the coal!” Delores shouted angrily. “He brought coal for us and for Chris Bieber, but none for Miss Martin.” Then her sudden anger turned to shame. She rushed to her desk, put her head down on her arms and sobbed. Soon the sobbing turned to coughing.
Miss Martin came over and tried to comfort her. “There’s a lot of coal dust left, Delores,” she said. “It makes smoke, but as long as we’re warm, who cares?” She paused. “Are you taking cold?”
“I’m all right.” Delores jumped up again and went to the blackboard.
In the kitchen, supper preparations had begun. The girls set out cans of tuna fish, corn, tomatoes and asparagus. Fernetta peeled potatoes and Ruby set the table. Miss Martin was sent out of the room.
“Go in and play the piano for us,” suggested Fernetta.
“The piano’s out of tune,” laughed Miss Martin, “and half the notes don’t play.”
“Well, sit down and rest then,” said Fernetta. “Darrell, come and stir the corn.”
The little teacherage kitchen was overcrowded with cooks, as all the children helped. The calamity of the storm had turned into fun and jollity now. Delores and Jacob brought chairs, and then the door into the schoolroom was closed to keep the kitchen warm.
“Supper’s ready,” called Ruby.
“I’ll dish out the hot stuff,” said Fernetta, going
to the stove. “Jeepers! Look at Darrell’s corn. It smells like popcorn.”
“You told me to stir it,” laughed Darrell, “and I stirred it till my arm’s ready to drop off.”
“You popped it, you mean!” giggled Fernetta. “Hand me your plates.”
“Don’t give me any asper-gus,” said Ruby. “I don’t like it.”
“Asper-gus! As-par-a-gus, you mean,” said Delores. “That's your mystery dish. You got to eat some.”
“Remember the canned tamales and the tangerine juice?” said Miss Martin. “We all tried them and liked them.”
“Don’t give me any,” insisted Ruby. “I won’t eat it.”
“If you was home,” said Fernetta, “your Mama’d give you a smack and you’d eat it all right.”
“Ruby helped herself to a big mouthful of canned corn. “Criminysakes!” she yelled. “Darrell didn’t pop it—he burnt it!”
The children roared with laughter, as Ruby ran to the garbage can to spit out the corn. “What a supper!” Refusing to touch more food, she stamped into the schoolroom and sat down on the register, crying.
“Don’t pay any attention to her,” said Delores. “It’s cold in there. She’ll get over her mad pretty quick.”
While Fernetta and Delores washed the dishes, Miss Martin went in to see Ruby. “What’s the matter?” she asked.
“I’m cold,” said Ruby, “and I’m hungry. I’m homesick too.”
“If you sit on the register,” said Miss Martin, “you’ll get smoked up.”
“It’s the only warm place in the whole school,” said Ruby. “I want to go home. I’m homesick for my mother. She don’t make me eat burnt corn.”
“If you cry,” said Miss Martin, “I’m going to cry too. We’ll all sit down and cry, but the storm will go on just the same. None of the children want to stay overnight. It is necessity. We may as well be cheerful and make the best of it.”
Suddenly the kitchen door opened and a figure covered with a blanket rushed in. Yi! Yi! Yi! Yi! Loud sounds came from the figure’s mouth. Loud knocks on a cardboard carton sounded somewhat like a drum. A second blanket-covered figure followed the first. An Indian dance had begun.