A Place to Belong

by Joan Lowery Nixon

  "When are we going to see Katherine?" Peg asked.

  "Right now," Alfrid said, and holding Olga's elbow gently, he led the way into Katherine's store.

  It was a busy place. Clusters of people were gossiping about what had happened on the street and examining the goods for sale. A clerk was rapidly tying up packages behind the counter, and Katherine was measuring off yards of striped cotton ticking for one of her customers.

  She stopped when she saw Danny and Peg, stooping to give them each a hug.

  "I have a kitten!" Peg began, and went on to tell Katherine all her important news, winding up with, "And Danny lost the addresses for Mike and Megan and Fran— Frankie and Petey."

  Katherine nodded reassuringly at Danny. "I've got them at home," she said. "I'll copy them for you, and the

  next time you're in town I'll have them here at the store for you. Will that be soon enough?"

  "Oh, yes. That's plenty of time," Danny answered quickly, even though he had no idea when Olga and Alfrid would return to St. Joseph. "I saw Mr. MacNair," Danny added, wanting to change the subject. "He stopped some men from fighting out in the street."

  "So I heard." Katherine sighed and glanced at Alfrid. "These are difficult times," she said.

  "Mr. McNair's very brave," Danny said.

  For some reason Katherine's cheeks grew pink. "Yes, he is," she said. She quickly changed the subject. "Don't let that argument you saw give you the wrong impression of St. Joseph. You'll usually find interesting things, not frightening ones, on our streets. A few days ago we had a traveling fiddler, and I heard from someone who had come north from Springfield that sometime in the near future we'll probably be paid a visit by a medicine show."

  "What's a medicine show?" Peg asked.

  Katherine explained. "Someone has bottled tonic to sell—something he claims will make people feel better. He sells it by taking it from town to town in a fancy painted wagon. It's important for him to attract a crowd so he can sell the tonic, so he puts on some kind of a show. Last year we had a medicine man with a monkey who could do tricks, and that drew a big crowd. Many people here had never seen a monkey before."

  "I would like to see a monkey," Peg said. "What's a monkey?"

  Olga laughed and said, "Come, children. We have shopping to do, and Katherine has customers waiting for her help. We'll talk about monkeys and medicine shows later."

  "And have tea and cookies?" Peg asked hopefully.

  But the shopping trip didn't last long. As soon as they had picked out their school supplies and Alfrid had re-

  —I

  placed a broken saw with a new one, Olga suggested that they return home.

  'The fright this morning has tired me greatly," she whispered to Alfrid.

  But Danny heard and was worried. Olga's illness, the fighting in the street, the threat of war—there was too much to think about. Alfrid surprised Peg and Danny with paper twists of peppermint drops as they began their trip home, but this treat didn't begin to dispel Danny's terrible feeling of dread.

  The next morning Olga was able to accompany them to church services. Afterward she spoke to the minister, praising his sermon and introducing Danny and Peg.

  Danny was relieved that the minister hadn't seemed to notice he wasn't paying attention. It hadn't been the minister's fault. When they'd sat down in the pew, Danny had noticed that Olga's hands trembled. The skin on them was so transparent that he could see the faint blue lines underneath. Olga's hands had reminded Danny of Da's, and he'd frantically said his own prayers that Olga wouldn't be as ill as Da had been, that she'd soon be well again.

  Danny was introduced to so many people he couldn't begin to remember their names. Mrs. Pratka gave him another smothering hug. He could never forget Mrs. Pratka

  He was surprised when Mrs. Pratka arrived at the Swensons' only a few minutes after they returned home. She took off her coat, looked around for a place to put

  her hat, and finally stuck it on top of the ball of twine, which had grown a little larger after the last visit to town.

  As Mrs. Pratka tied a large white apron around her ample middle, she said, "I know that your girl, Gussie, is off today, and I know youVe been feeling poorly, Olga, so you get yourself off to bed for a good rest, and I'll cook up a meal that will put some meat on your bones." Without pausing for breath she continued, "Danny, get out of your churchgoing clothes and lend me a hand with washing and peeling the vegetables."

  Danny hurried to obey, and while he was scrubbing the dark soil from a bunch of carrots, Mrs. Pratka said, "Worrying doesn't do any good, Danny."

  He looked up, startled, and she added, "Your forehead is full of worry wrinkles. That doesn't help Olga. Just show her a happy smile. That's the kind of help she needs."

  "I want her to get better soon," Danny said.

  "We all want her to," Mrs. Pratka said.

  She looked so sympathetic that Danny blurted out, "What if—?" then couldn't finish the sentence.

  Mrs. Pratka sighed and put down the pot she was holding. "Danny, you're old enough to understand that life can be pretty hard at times, but it has a lot of good moments, too. You just have to keep your mind on the good parts and struggle through the bad ones. You've traveled a rough road yourself, so you know what I'm talking about. Now, let's see some spunk. Put a smile on your face." She glanced at the carrot Danny was holding. "And scrape all the way to the tops of those carrots. When you're done, cut them in chunks. Not slices, but chunks. Understand?"

  Danny understood. He understood all of it. But he didn't want his life to have any bad times. He only wanted the good. He wished he could talk to Mike about

  the way he felt, or to Ma. He wished he could hear what Ma would have to say.

  The days passed quickly, and the air grew chill. Each Wednesday evening Alfrid rode to St. Joe to attend the abolitionists , meetings.

  "I'd like to go, too," Danny told him.

  "When Ralph Waldo Emerson comes to speak, Til take you with me," Alfrid promised. "I understand that the man is a fine orator."

  "When will he come?" Danny asked.

  "The date hasn't been set," Alfrid said. "You'll have to be patient."

  But it was hard for Danny to be patient.

  Mike wrote an excited, happy letter from his new home with Captain Taylor at Fort Leavenworth, and Frances wrote about how happy she and Petey were with their family. "I can be a girl again," she wrote. Danny smiled as he recalled how he'd last seen Frances: her hair cropped raggedy short, wearing a boy's trousers, all to keep her promise to Ma to try and stay with Petey. Ma wrote of her new job as a housemaid and her tidy little attic room in the fine house.

  Danny read their letters over and over until the papers split at the folds, but he wouldn't allow himself to picture Ma's room and the house and the people in it, all of which Ma had described so well. He wouldn't let himself think about the fort and the soldiers and travelers who came and went. And he closed his mind to the Kansas farm that Frances wrote about. He had to keep believing that his family would someday be together again.

  All anyone could talk about at school was the upcoming presidential election, even though every day Miss Clark reminded them to study harder to prepare for

  the spelling bee, Danny wondered if Miss Clark thought the spelling bee was more important than the election.

  As the important Saturday evening drew close, they had to polish their desks until the wood gleamed. The day before the spelling bee, they carried in the benches Mr. Otis Palmer brought over in his wagon, so there'd be places for everyone to sit. Miss Clark scrubbed the floor, put a bowl of autumn leaves on her desk, and cautioned all her students to be very sure to be on time with their families the next evening.

  Olga packed a large basket of food and tied a festive red ribbon on the handle. The color was mirrored on her cheeks, and her eyes sparkled with excitement.

  "I used to be very good at spelling bees," she said. "I still remember the fun. Danny, you're going to d
o so well! And we're all so proud of you!"

  It wasn't until they arrived at the schoolroom and Danny saw the crowd that had come that he began to get nervous.

  Everyone dove into the box suppers first, most of the families sharing extra cake or fruit with one another. Danny wished they could have eaten after the spelling bee was over and not before. He found it impossible to choke down a bite.

  Olga winked and whispered to him, "I've got some dinner set aside for you to eijoy later. There's a big piece of sponge cake tucked into this napkin."

  Danny gulped. "I wanted to win the spelling bee, but now I know I'm going to lose."

  'That's what all the contestants are thinking at this moment, isn't it?"

  Surprised, Danny glanced around the room. Wilmer was fidgeting, drumming his heels against the floor, and one of his sisters was poking him, insisting that he stop. Charlie, Tom, Bessie—none of the participants in the

  ~54~

  spelling bee looked particularly happy. Well, then, he wasn't alone. The tight knot in his chest released a little.

  In a short time napkins were folded over the baskets, which were then slipped under the benches. Ever since he had made and donated the benches, years ago, Otis Palmer had been the one who called out the spelling words. With an air of importance, he sat at Miss Clark's desk and opened the spelling book. The fifteen participants immediately hurried to their places in the line across the front of the room. Wilmer stepped on Danny's right foot, and Danny elbowed Wilmer in the ribs. "I'm gonna beat you," Wilmer whispered, and Danny just grinned, because he knew that would irritate Wilmer more than anything else.

  The audience became quiet, and a whimpering baby was gently hushed. Mr. Palmer fixed Bessie, who stood at the end of the row, with a gaze so steady that she flinched. In rolling tones he called out the first word, repeating it with the same deliberation: "Amicably. Am-icably."

  "Am-amicably," Bessie stammered. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, then recited, "A-m-a—"

  "Wrong!" Before Bessie could open her eyes, Mr. Palmer said, "Next. Spell amicably. 11

  Bessie stumbled to a seat against the wall, her face flushed with embarrassment. The very first word, and she'd missed it! Danny felt so sorry for Bessie it was all he could do to keep from groaning aloud. What if he missed a word, too?

  It dawned on him that Charlie, Bessie's partner, had spelled the word correctly, and Mr. Palmer had shot out another word to Tom, the next in line. "Neighbor," Mr. Palmer was saying.

  Danny's knees wobbled. Thank goodness someone else was getting that word! Tom spelled it correctly, and

  Mr. Palmer went on to Alice May, who left the e out of pursued and was dropped from the competition.

  Laura Lee spelled pursued correctly, and suddenly it was Danny's turn. "Weigh," Mr. Palmer said.

  Danny's mouth fell open. No! Not that word! He couldn't go down on his first word, and for the life of him he couldn't remember how to spell it. The i and the e were the same as in neighbor. What had Tom said?

  "Weigh," Mr. Palmer repeated in his voice that reminded Danny of church bells tolling at a funeral.

  Danny knew that he had to say something before time ran out. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. "Weigh," he said. "W-e-i-g-h."

  He had actually taken a step out of line before he realized that Mr. Palmer had gone on to Callie June with the word partisan, so he must have spelled his word correctly. With a long sigh he leaned against the wall. The worst was over.

  As each round passed, and the words became harder, more of the contestants had to drop out. Soon they were down to ten, then eight, and Danny was still in.

  So was Wilmer.

  Mr. Palmer looked at Laura Lee. "Farinaceous," he said.

  "Huh?" Danny muttered under his breath. He didn't remember ever seeing that word.

  Apparently Laura Lee didn't either, because she got completely tangled in the vowels. "Wrong," Mr. Palmer boomed, and Laura Lee flounced to her seat.

  His gaze bored into Danny's skull. "Farinaceous," he said.

  "Farinaceous," Danny repeated. "Uh ... uh ... f-a-i-r—"

  "Wrong," Mr. Palmer said.

  Head down, Danny walked to the bench where the Swensons sat. Olga squeezed over and made a place for

  him. "That was a dreadful word," she whispered. "I never would have got that one right."

  Danny glanced at her, surprised to see that she was smiling. "We're so proud of you!" she said. "Look how well you did! There aren't many left in the competition."

  Danny looked to the front of the room, where only the older students, Tom, Charlie, Annie, and Elizabeth, remained standing. "Where's Wilmer?" he whispered.

  Alfrid leaned to whisper in return, "He went down on the same word you did."

  So! Wilmer had missed it, too! The tight place in Danny's stomach immediately disappeared, and he realized how hungry he was. He could hardly wait until the spelling bee was over so he could eat.

  But the last four contestants were top-notch spellers, and the match continued. Finally Tom and Annie went down on pernicious. Soon afterward Charlie missed vertiginous. Elizabeth, with a gleam of triumph in her eyes, spelled the word correctly. She was declared the winner, and a wide blue ribbon was pinned to her shirtwaist.

  "I'm satisfied," a loud voice could be heard all over the room. "Don't even mind my own not winnin', long as that boy from the abolitionist family didn't take the match."

  There was silence for a few seconds, as everyone turned to stare at the man who had spoken, Wilmer's father.

  Miss Clark made little shooing motions, as though she were trying to clear the room, and called out, "Thank you for coming, everyone! I hope you'll all be at our Christmas pageant! December twenty-second. Don't forget! Thank you, thank you."

  But one of the other fathers, a muscular, red-faced man who spoke with a thick German accent, had stepped up to face Wilmer's father. "You're a hothead and a

  troublemaker, Jobes," the man said. "What are you trying to do? Start a war right here and now?"

  "I got a right to speak my piece," Mr. Jobes said.

  "Not here in a schoolroom. Not among peaceable people."

  People around Danny began pushing forward, and he could hear muttering.

  Alfrid leapt to the bench, where he towered over the others like a strong tree in a forest. "Everyone outside, right this minute!" he demanded in a loud voice. 'The spelling bee is over. Harvey Greenwood, you're nearest to the door. Please open it wide so that everyone can leave this room!"

  Mr. Greenwood did, letting in a blast of cold night air. Shivering people began struggling into their coats and snatching up their baskets.

  Danny was amazed. Alfrid had done the same thing that Andrew had done. Both men had given strong orders, and people had obeyed. Did most people want someone to tell them what to do?

  The school yard was soon cleared of buggies and wagons. Olga rested against Alfrid on the way home, her head on his shoulder. "Oh, Alfrid, how will it all end?" Danny heard her murmur.

  "For the best, I hope," Alfrid answered.

  They rode in silence for a few minutes until Alfrid spoke in a hearty voice. "Danny did us proud tonight. This is a time to celebrate."

  "I didn't win," Danny said.

  "You came very close," Alfrid said, "which is all the more amazing because you've had no formal schooling up until now."

  "He studied very hard," Olga said proudly.

  "I'm sure he did," Alfrid said, "but I think the real answer is that Danny's own mother and father were good teachers."

  "Yes, sir. They were," Danny said, his heart so filled with love for Alfrid that he wished he could leap up from his seat in the buggy and throw his arms around him.

  When Alfrid went into town to cast his vote for Abraham Lincoln in the presidential election, he took the rest of the family with him. "This is an important moment," Alfrid said to Danny as he guided his buggy through the crowded streets. "I want you to remember it always."
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br />   Danny nodded. "Yes, sir!" he said, excited about the crowds, the banners hung on poles, the street-corner orators, the band in the city square, and the festive air in St. Joseph.

  They left the horses and buggy in the livery stable and walked toward the courthouse. Danny stopped in front of a wide open door to watch a blacksmith who was heating metal in a forge, the muscles on his bare arms glowing red-gold with sweat. He was a wide-shouldered, handsome man with a shock of black hair. When he looked up to see Danny watching him, he smiled.

  Alfrid, who had come back to see why Danny was lagging, waved and called, "Good day to you, John." Then he turned to Danny, saying, "Come along. The others are waiting. We'll watch John Murphy at work some other time."

  Olga had packed a generous picnic lunch. Although the air was nippy, the day was bright, and there was room in the park to spread a quilt on the ground for a picnic.

  Peg was the first to spot the high, brightly painted wagon at the north end of the park. "Is that a medicine man? Do you think he has a monkey?" she asked.

  Alfrid took her hand. "Let's take a look," he said. "We may erjoy a show before we eat."

  He led the way, Olga and Danny following. They

  joined a small crowd gathered around the open end of the wagon, on which bottles of tonic and pills were displayed. A gentleman wearing a black frock coat and tall silk hat raised his right hand, and a small bouquet of brightly colored paper flowers suddenly appeared in it. People in the crowd gasped and applauded.

  Danny gasped, too, but for a different reason.

  "A magic show!" Peg shouted, as Alfrid swung her to his shoulders for a better view.

  The magician turned and smiled at Peg, and Danny had a good look at him. Heavy, dark eyebrows and beard, a large nose and ruddy cheeks. Danny knew that face. He tugged at Alfrid's arm. "I have to talk to you," he whispered.

  "Can you wait just a minute, Danny?" Alfrid asked.

  "No," Danny said. "It's important."

  The man had now displayed an oversize pack of brightly painted playing cards. Although two or three women in the audience murmured their disapproval at the sight of playing cards, which suggested wicked pastimes, no one left. Others joined them, and the crowd grew larger.