Grace like a Whisper

by Edna Lee Allen

  Jed stepped lightly, but the floorboard creaked.

  Thomas’s head lifted. He squinted at the candle flame and then sat up and looked at Josiah. He pulled the thin sheet up to Josiah’s chin. Then he carefully stood and followed Jed into the parlor. Without prompting, Thomas lifted several logs from the firewood box and placed them in the hearth. “Want me to fetch some water?”

  Jed nodded. The boy would be a loyal servant. Almost too much so. Would he do whatever was asked of him no matter the task? And by whomever ordered it? “Fill the pitcher on the washstand in the bedroom when you return.”

  Thomas unlatched the door, and the dawn’s rays shone on his face. At that moment, Thomas resembled Jed’s long-dead brother, who’d died of cholera when Jed was younger. Both boys had the same curve at the bridge of the nose, low forehead, and shape of the brows.

  Would the boys get tired of oatmeal? He did have cornmeal for mush and cornbread. He’d have to rise earlier to get to the shop on time, but morning had always been his favorite part of the day, so that shouldn’t be too much of a problem.

  Thomas returned from outside, each movement precise, the boy’s eyes fixed on the water. The bucket had been filled to near the rim and a splash leaked over the edge. Thomas paused and looked at the floor.

  Jed rescued the pail from his hands, emptied some of it in a pot for the oats to cook in, and then returned it to him. The night shirt Jed had given him came from the former apprentice. The hem fell a few inches above his knees. Another item he’d have to get for them.

  Thomas stepped carefully around Josiah. The boy had a remarkable sense of obedience. He followed orders but didn’t seem to do it in fear of a beating. He appeared to be drawn by a sense of honor, as if joy came from pleasing. Thomas emptied the bucket carefully into the pitcher and then returned. “What do I need to do next?”

  Jed tore off several pieces of bread from one of the loaves Mrs. Coleman gave him for fixing the hole in her teakettle and then opened a jar of honey from Wyatt’s bee hives. Several jars of preserves and another jar of honey lined the front row of his cabinet. The food supply would dwindle rapidly the way the boys ate supper last night. He hoped at least some of his customers would pay in cash this week. Jed glanced down at the boy’s feet. The spaces between his toes were covered in dirt. “Put this bread on the table, then go rinse your feet under the spigot outside.” Jed handed him the bowl. “You will say the grace before we eat.”

  Thomas looked up. “I ain’t never done that before.”

  Jed nodded. “You’ll learn.”

  ~*~

  Nothing separated people like social class. Yet Grace felt an intense yearning to alter what had always existed. At least in her new little corner of Sheldon, Texas.

  Grace stood at the top of the stairs outside the schoolhouse door and watched her students arrive from different directions. Some came barefoot, a few wore new boots. Some came by themselves or with a sibling. Most walked, but others rode in the back of a wagon. Three girls, whose father owned the mercantile in town, arrived in a carriage.

  Farmers’ children wore the same overalls and tweed trousers they used to work in the fields. Other girls wore newly-made dresses and some boys wore freshly ironed shirts.

  But it wasn’t just the clothes. Their walk was different. Poor children trudged along barely lifting their feet, shoulders slumped. Offspring from wealthier families moved with a spring in their step, their posture tall and straight. Of course, that didn’t mean they were happier or better people.

  Grace greeted each student and sent them inside. She had already met some at church or around town. Many had stopped by Edith’s home to introduce themselves. The last few filed in, and her heart thudded against her ribs. She gazed across the empty yard, and then moved to the door. Her name echoed in the breeze. She turned.

  A tall, empowering figure walked behind two little ones.

  They were here.

  Grace moved down the steps.

  Josiah’s pace slowed.

  Thomas placed his arm on the younger lad’s back to draw him along.

  Mr. Green followed behind them.

  She laced her fingers together and waited.

  Josiah pressed his body against Thomas’s side. His scar appeared completely hidden.

  Grace bent down to peer directly at Josiah. His clear, deep blue irises filled with water. If only she could find the key to unlock his trust.

  Mr. Green smoothed the top of Josiah’s light blond hair. “Go on now.”

  Josiah moved his head from side to side.

  Then his lower lip stuck out, and if her heart had been made of wax it would’ve melted all over the ground. Even in defiance the lad charmed her. “Josiah, I will need a special helper with the flag today. Would you like to help me?”

  He shook his head.

  Grace bit her lip to keep from smiling. “Have you ever been to school before?”

  He gave the smallest nod. Her shoulders relaxed.

  Then something in her soul whispered that Josiah’s experience had been painful. “Do I seem like the same teacher you had?”

  He paused and then shook his head.

  “I’ll tell you a secret,” Grace whispered.

  Josiah pulled himself slightly away from Thomas. His gaze never left hers.

  “I’m scared too. This is my very first day as a teacher, and I stayed up all night with a tummy-ache and prayed the day would go well. And I’d really like you to come inside because I think my stomach will start to hurt again if you don’t.”

  Josiah’s pouting lip softened.

  Mr. Green bent over and placed a hand on Thomas’s back. “Both of you inside with Miss Cantrell. We’ll take a trip to the mercantile afterward. Do what she says, and you can get a piece of sassafras.”

  Josiah and Thomas looked at each other, their eyes wide.

  Mr. Green took Josiah’s arm and raised it toward Grace, who grabbed his hand. His little fingers felt delicate inside hers as he walked beside her up the stairs.

  “Miss Cantrell.” Mr. Green stepped forward. “Here’s their lunch pails.”

  She took the round, metal buckets from his hand. “Thank you.”

  He tipped his hat. “No. Thank you, miss.” And the sepia in his eyes, a richer shade than what she’d ever seen before, met her gaze squarely. “I’m sure you’ll see to it that they get proper schooling.” His voice had an edge to it without sounding gruff. As if he knew his place in the world.

  She both envied and admired it. “I’ll do my best.”

  For a brief moment they connected, as if he’d entrusted her with his most prized possessions. Something inside her drew toward him, and she hated to turn away.

  Thomas and Josiah followed her inside.

  And the snickering began.

  4

  Jed propped open one door to his shop with a heavy rock and directed Griffin to do the same on the other side.

  Griffin lifted the stone and dropped it heavily. Then he pushed it with his foot so it butted up to the wood. He stepped inside. “It’s dark in here.”

  “Supposed to be.” Jed grabbed one of his canvas aprons from a hook on the wall and put it on.

  Griffin scanned the walls lined with chains, fire pokers, pronged forks, branding irons, and countless S hooks. He picked up a metal stake propped against the wall and examined it. “Why’s that?”

  “So I can see the color of the iron when it’s hot.” He tied his apron tight. “And don’t touch anything until I tell you.”

  Griffin rolled his eyes and placed the stake somewhat close to where he found it. He looked down at the dirt floor and ran his toes into the fine powder. “How late we stayin’?”

  “Until the sun goes down. Can’t work without daylight.” Griffin’s heavy brows contorted, and Jed anticipated his thoughts. “Winter is less work. Days are shorter. And farmers and ranchers aren’t as in need of my services. So until sunset, the work is endless.”

  “Don’t have to travel f
ar to get to work. Just right next door. That’s a good thing, at least.” Griffin moved against the far wall, picked up a scythe by the handle, turned it in his palm, and then put it back down. That time he found the correct place.

  Jed cleared his throat. “We’ll pick up the other two at the end of school and then return to the shop. I let you sleep in today, but tomorrow you’ll walk them to and from school until they can get there on their own.”

  “They lived on the streets.” Griffin moved about the perimeter, fingering items hanging on the wall. “I’m sure they’ll survive walking out in the country.”

  Jed grabbed another apron off the hook and tossed it toward him. “Put this on.”

  Griffin snatched the apron in midair and threw the straps over his head. With exaggerated movements, he tied the strings around his back.

  Jed opened the door to the back closet and pulled a pair of old work boots off the shelf. He extended them toward Griffin. “Here.”

  Griffin pushed them aside. “I don’t wear shoes.”

  “First spark that lands on your foot will make you wish you had.” Jed dropped the boots on the dirt floor in front of him. “If they don’t fit we’ll get you another set from someplace.”

  Jed got the fire started.

  Griffin continued to pick up things and fiddle with them.

  “Come around here. You’re going to pump the bellows.”

  Griffin picked up the shoes and carried them through the gated partition that separated the customers from the work area.

  “An apprentice makes nails. Lots of them. Every day. But until I say so you’ll do nothing but watch.”

  “That’s what I am? An apprentice?”

  Jed pressed his lips together and murmured a positive reply.

  “For how long?”

  “Seven years.”

  Griffin stepped back. “What?” His voice snapped.

  “That’s what’s on the papers you signed.”

  The boy pointed a finger at Jed’s chest. “You expect me to live with you and work here? In the middle of nowhere? For seven years?”

  Jed didn’t laugh but found the comment amusing. “Central Texas isn’t the middle of nowhere. Neither is Sheldon.” But he understood how it could seem that way coming from New York. “And I’m doing you a favor.”

  “How do you figure that? In seven years I’ll be almost twenty-five. Half my life will be over.”

  Jed had thought that too at the age of twelve. So did his mother. Sending her oldest boy off about tore her up, but she wanted him to have a better life than she could give him. And that started with mastering a skill.

  “You’ll be learning a trade. And a good one.”

  “Pounding iron from sunup to sundown? When you supposed to rest?”

  “Sunday. That was yesterday.” Jed picked up a shovel propped against the wall. “A town cannot survive without a blacksmith. Every farmer. Every rancher. Any decent man with a home and family has iron that needs welding or repairing. It’ll be well worth every sore shoulder.”

  Griffin paused. His mind seemed to take it all in. “How much you gonna pay me? Cuz I plan to spend it how I see fit.”

  “Not a hay penny. You’re getting something more valuable. Experience.” Jed looked down at Griffin’s bare feet. “For now, you observe. Think about the fire, my hammer, and the way I turn the iron changes its shape.”

  Griffin slipped his foot into the shoes but didn’t tie the laces. Except for when he pumped the bellows, he stood with his arms folded across his chest. He didn’t speak. Every once in a while, he’d open his mouth but then clamp it shut. His gaze stayed glued on Jed’s every movement. After a while, his arms released to his side and he sighed heavily.

  Jed had learned that boredom could be a good thing. Routine taught patience. Patience taught precision. The lad would do well to learn those things. And the earlier the better.

  After more than fifteen years of heating metal, fire still mesmerized Jed.

  Neither said a word until the first customer strode into the shop more than an hour later.

  Paxton Hubbard propped his arms on the wooden partition. He wasn’t much older than Thomas but weighed twice as much. What he lacked in brains he made up in size. His pa was a good-for-nothing scoundrel, working at the livery for his uncle whenever the cupboards were bare. Then he’d go back to whittling on the porch and smoking cigars while his wife took in ironing and mending to put food on the table.

  “Ma sent me to see if you can fix this here ladle and skillet.” He pulled some coins out of his pocket and laid them on the flat rail. “Here’s what we got. And she sent some eggs. Pa said he’d bring you a hen later in the week after we skin one.”

  Your Pa said that before. “Leave that and the money. Come by before dark.”

  Paxton saw Griffin. He scanned the length of his body, his head turning to the side to take everything in. “Who’s this?”

  Jed stuck the S hook he’d finished in the tub of cool water. He knew what mischievous thoughts wormed inside the boy’s brain. “I’ll see you at the end of the day.”

  Paxton grinned at Griffin. The lad’s mood was rarely ever good, so Jed actually saw Paxton’s teeth for the first time.

  “Best get back to your family,” Jed’s voice lowered a notch.

  Paxton didn’t move.

  Jed stared him down until he grudgingly left.

  Griffin walked over to the railing, scooted the coins into one hand, and opened his palm toward Jed. “A nickel and three pennies.” Then he opened the flour sack. “And five eggs.”

  More than last time. “That’s a family you want to stay away from.”

  Griffin tucked the change into the front pocket of his pants and set the flour sack and eggs gently inside a bucket on the far side of the work table. “I bet he don’t bring that chicken.”

  Jed chuckled. Griffin might be rebellious, but he had a good sense of character. If he could tough it out, he might turn out all right.

  ~*~

  A small object flew through the air and skidded across the schoolhouse floor. Most likely something light from the plinking sound.

  Grace stood from having knelt next to Cora’s desk.

  Leisel Hooten covered his mouth in a pitiful attempt to conceal laughter.

  Dorsey Crump ducked his head, but Grace spotted his crafty grin.

  A choir of giggles rippled behind them.

  Thomas looked at her from the second row with disappointed eyes and then at Josiah, who sat in the chair directly in front of him. He had written his numbers one through six in order but reversed the three and the five.

  Grace tapped Cora’s desk. “Keep trying on your own, and I’ll be back to check.”

  She moved toward Leisel’s desk. His smirk lessened but didn’t erase. She picked up his slate and pointed to the third and fourth math problems. “Check your figures again, Leisel. Distraction causes mistakes. You must need more practice. Do these over again and when you finish, I’ll look it over.”

  Leisel’s shoulders slumped. A frown replaced his smugness.

  The room grew silent.

  Grace moved toward Dorsey; her boots stepped lightly on the plank floor. “How about you?”

  His face paled considerably. This boy was a follower. Unfortunately, Leisel wasn’t the best choice for a leader.

  “You seem to have trouble concentrating too.”

  Millie Todd scrunched low in her seat and stretched her legs in front of her. Then she dragged her foot across the floor. She reached down and picked up an object beneath her shoes and extended her hand to Grace.

  The piping on Millie’s dress had frayed around the collar and hem. Singed marks splattered her sleeves. The gray, light-weight fabric had faded from years of use. Thin, fine hair hung past her shoulders. The ends were ratted as if they hadn’t been brushed for weeks. “They were throwing these at the orphan boys, Miss Cantrell.” Millie released a pebble into Grace’s hand. “Especially the one with the scar. I saw ’
em.”

  Orphans? That explained why Edith didn’t know about the boys living with Mr. Green. “Thank you, Millie.”

  “You didn’t see me do nothin’.” Leisel murmured from a row behind Millie.

  “What makes you think she was referring to you?”

  Leisel’s face hardened, and his eyes grew cold.

  Grace crossed her arms. “Perhaps it wasn’t you.”

  Millie raised her hand to speak.

  Grace lifted an opened palm to silence her. “Maybe someone else knows.” The small rock rested in her hand. She scanned the oldest children in the back of the room and made her way forward. Silence. Made a person think. Then squirm. Awkward tension held the room. She had their attention. “Several of you laughed. You must have seen something that made you do so.”

  An older boy gave a skittish look around the room. A couple of girls stared straight ahead, but their eyes lacked the empathy Millie’s held. In contrast, they sparkled. Yet another boy snarled as he drummed his fingers.

  Grace’s throat constricted. When she was a child, disappointing Miss Mullins back in Grover would cease the thought of haughty behavior with all but a few unruly students. Grace needed that power. Had she already been a failure on her first day?

  They don’t know you. A voice whispered in her spirit.

  Could she earn their love and respect? Although Grace lacked confidence with adults, she loved a challenge with children. She gave the class the next half hour to finish their arithmetic. As each one finished, she quietly told them to contemplate what kind of person enjoys making fun of others. Finally, Grace dismissed them for recess.

  The staring bothered her. And the whispering. Did the children know how cruel they acted? And if they did, would that change their behavior?

  From the dusty window she could see them playing. She would need to clean the glass. A circle of boys played marbles in the shade of a large sycamore. Another group hit a round stone with a wooden slat. Giggles and chatter floated through breezy air. All seemed content. Except for two small boys.