The Girl Called Ella Dessa: Will she ever be cherished for the inner beauty beneath her scars?

by Karen Campbell Prough

  Velma nodded. “Jim, we’ll be prayin’ for him.”

  His fingers rolled the brim of his hat. “I thank you. I sure feel sorry for him.”

  “He has to wear the boards the whole time?” Ella asked.

  “Oh, no. She said he should take them off tonight, but not put pressure on the leg. He’s got to let the swelling go down. That means bed rest and no work outside. Duncan, Samuel, and I will do the work, which isn’t much right now. We still have a lot of winter repairs to do—fences to mend.” He turned toward the door. “Well, guess I’ll go out to your barn and prod Samuel into hurrying.”

  “I’ll get Samuel.” Before Jim could say no, Ella grabbed her coat. “You can visit with Velma.” She ducked past him, slipped out the door, and ran the scuffed, muddy path to the barn. The crunchy snow still lightly covered the ground, but it no longer held any brilliant beauty.

  Samuel stood outside the barn, struggling to close the crooked door. He had brought his horse out and tied it to the fence. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. Jim’s here.” She stopped in front of him, gathered her long hair in her hands, and twisted it into a bun. With cold fingers, she tucked the ends in to hold it all in place. Because Jim hadn’t removed his coat, she knew he wouldn’t stay, and she was anxious to get back and spend more time with him.

  Samuel turned toward the cabin. “Oh. I see his horse. Ella Dessa, these cows are in bad shape. They need more feed and—”

  “I know. I’ll talk to Velma ‘bout it. Jim’s here to fetch you home.” She lifted the hem of her skirt well above her ankles. “Come on.” She sprinted ahead of him.

  When she entered the cabin, she was out of breath. Jim sat at the table, deep in conversation with Velma. Ella noticed he still hadn’t taken off his coat. It surely meant he’d leave the minute his brother appeared. Disappointed, she almost shut the door in Samuel’s face.

  “Hey, let me in.” He ducked in and tossed his hat on the peg by the door. With a light tap, he touched her on the shoulder. “You were shutting me out. What’s with you running like a scared rabbit?”

  “I didn’t shut you out, and I didn’t run like a rabbit,” she hissed, hoping Jim hadn’t heard.

  “Ella Dessa, Velma has nothing but good things to say about you.” Jim’s eyes glinted with admiration. “I knew you could handle things.”

  She shrugged and smiled. “I didn’t do it all. Samuel helped last night.”

  “You bet I did.”

  Jim stood. “Sam, we worried last night. Now I know why you stayed. No problem. I would’ve done the same.” He winked at Ella.

  Samuel’s inquisitive glance went from his oldest brother to Ella. “I didn’t mind staying. How’s Papa?”

  “Not good. His knee is swelling. Duncan’s cutting small timber on the west side so we can use it for fence posts. That way we don’t have to haul posts from the supplies in the barn. You and I have to repair a fence in that area and help Duncan. I told Papa I’d come get you, take you with me, and work until dark. You ready to go?”

  “Yes, if Ella Dessa doesn’t need help.”

  She shrugged her shoulders. “I think we’ll be fine.”

  He lifted his old hat from the peg. “When school starts, I’ll bring by assignments.” He smiled at her. “I won’t forget.”

  “Thanks.” Ella returned his smile, but she was conscious of Jim standing close. She wished she were older and prettier, more like the dark-haired girl at the wedding. That girl appeared perfect with her unmarred skin, and she was more Jim’s age.

  “Sam, let’s go. You’re stalling. Go get your horse out of the barn.” He tugged on his brother’s sleeve.

  “My horse is outside the door.”

  “Then get on him.” Jim nudged him toward the door. “I hope everyone stays well. Don’t get sick, Ella Dessa. We can’t spare Samuel to come take care of you.” He winked at her.

  Embarrassed, she shook her head. “I wouldn’t want him to take care of me.” She crossed her arms, hiding the stained blouse she wore.

  “Hey.” Samuel looked hurt. “After all I did for you? You talk like that?” He then gave her a silly grin and plopped the floppy hat on his head. “Don’t think I’ll ever sit up with you again.”

  *******

  Jim and Samuel rode in silence until they reached the steepest part of the narrow, rutted trail. Three bulky pieces of rock had broken loose from the side of the mountain and lay in the path.

  “I rode around these rocks coming down.” Jim reined in his horse, swung his leg over the saddle, and stepped down. He led his horse closer to the rocks. “If someone brings a wagon, they won’t get through. Let’s roll these off the side.” He looped the reins over a nearby tree branch and turned. “Think you can help me?”

  “Are you asking me to help?”

  “Sure.” He squinted at his brother and realized how tall the boy sat in the saddle. He had lengthened out in the past couple of months, and the added inches made him seem older. “Get on down. We can manage them—between the two of us.” He turned to survey the damage. “They must’ve dropped during the night. Ice probably popped ‘em loose.”

  With grunts and groans, they rolled and shoved the first irregular gray rock off the edge. Samuel grinned, inclined his head, and listened as the rock plunged between leafless trees. It made a rapid and shattering descent. The second one crashed into a pine tree and slammed to an abrupt halt.

  “Ouch!” Jim yelped and laughed. “Glad that wasn’t me. What a headache.”

  “Don’t want to fall off this stretch of the trail.” Samuel shuddered. “Now, one more to go.” He flexed his shoulders. “Got to put muscle into this one.”

  “Do you have any muscles?”

  “Yeah, let me show you what I got. Come on. I’ll let you help.”

  “If you’re going to show me, then you best do it yourself.” Jim feigned quitting, but joined Samuel in rocking the stone, until it started to roll. “Look out. Let it go.”

  They watched the third and largest stone careen between boulders and trees. Samuel snatched off his hat and waved it over his head. “Yee … ha! Wow, did you see that one bounce? I bet it went ten feet in the air.”

  “Hmm. If it had been a body, it would’ve been battered to pieces.” Jim removed his hat and wiped a forearm across his face. Their boots stamped out muddy gouges in the trail where the light snow had melted. The sun lifted into the sky, bright and strong. “Snow didn’t last long on this stretch. That sun’s hotter today. I don’t need this coat.”

  Samuel inspected a scrape on his right palm, caused by one of the rocks. “Oww.” Bright red blood dripped to the ground and joined the melting snow.

  “Are you going to live?” Jim rolled his coat into a bundle and strapped it behind the saddle.

  “Yeah.” Samuel pulled off his own coat.

  Jim saw a dark smear of blood on the front of it. “Hey, now you’re bleeding on your coat.”

  “Ugh.” He threw the coat over the front of the homemade saddle and dabbed his hand on his pants leg. “Jim, this stupid cut won’t stop bleeding. I’m dripping.”

  “Here, use this.” Jim pulled a square of muslin out of his pocket. Their mother had neatly hemmed the edges. “It’s clean. I haven’t used it on my nose.” He grinned at Samuel.

  “I hope not.”

  “Listen, Papa’s getting worse. The three of us need to help take the load off him, especially when it comes to hunting or anything requiring a lot of walking.” He unwound the horse’s reins from the tree branch.

  “What does that mean for my schooling—when the time comes? Do I have to forget it?” Samuel tightened the cloth over his hand. “Tie this?” He held his hand out to Jim.

  “Hold still.” Jim shifted the dangling reins to the crook of his elbow and tied the corners of the square cloth around his brother’s hand. He knew how much the new school meant to Samuel. “You’ll have to do chores earlier in the mornings while it’s still dark. And get home fast after s
chool. Otherwise … no, you can’t go. Mother will continue to work with you during the evenings, just as she has with all us older children. Little ones do schooling in the mornings.”

  “Hmm. I promised to take lessons to Ella Dessa—if I go to school.” Samuel showed his exasperation by kicking at the mud. “I can’t break that promise.”

  “That means you’ll be going out of your way, riding to Velma’s place.”

  “I know that. It won’t take long.”

  “Better not. Drop them and be on your way up this trail.”

  Samuel nodded in agreement. “Is Duncan bristling at the thought of more chores?”

  Jim laid his forehead against his horse’s neck and sighed. “Duncan’s never happy. He’s not saying much.” He turned to face Samuel. “The three of us will have to do all the plowing on the east slope—come spring planting. At which time, you may have to miss school. Papa’s knee can’t take the punishment of the sharp angle on that slope.”

  “What made his knee get like that?”

  “Mother thinks it’s the result of his fall while building Stuarts’ barn last spring.”

  “Yeah. That barn raising wasn’t kind to a couple of men. Laura Stuart’s nephew broke two ribs with a fall, and ole Abe cut off a finger.”

  Jim stepped into the stirrup and swung his leg over the worn leather saddle. “Let’s get home before Duncan thinks he’s left alone to do all the work. He’ll run away if that happens.” He bumped the horse’s sides with his heels, clicked his tongue, and urged the animal over the grade. At the top, he hesitated and reined in his horse. He watched his brother struggle to make his horse stand still.

  “Come on, Sam. Need help getting in the saddle?”

  “What saddle?” his brother shouted. “This homemade piece of leather? You call this a saddle?” His spirited horse sidestepped and moved in a circle, avoiding his attempt to mount. “You’re sitting on the only real saddle anyone owns in the cove.”

  “It’s not the saddle keeping you on the ground, Sam.” He chuckled at his brother’s red face. “She’s got you figured.”

  “Hey, I have a hurt hand. Stupid horse.” The teen hopped with one foot in the stirrup and finally mounted. His horse’s hooves kicked stones the whole way uphill. “Easier for you to get on, anyhow. Your horse is shorter.”

  Jim chuckled. “You just need to grow longer legs.” He took the lead and twisted sideways in the saddle to look back. “Has Ella Dessa heard from Fern?”

  “Not that she mentioned.”

  “Probably just as well.” He shook his head and faced forward. “Who knows what’ll happen when Fern gets Duncan’s letter. Her reply will determine our brother’s future actions.”

  “You’re right about that.”

  They rode in silence until Jim asked, “So, you two sat up all night?”

  “What? Oh, Ella Dessa and me?”

  “Who else?”

  “No one else. Just us two.” There was a hint of a teasing in Samuel’s voice. “Sure did find conversation interesting, for a change. Wasn’t like a brotherly exchange.”

  Jim knew that if he turned in the saddle he’d see a giant smile lifting his brother’s lips. He resisted the desire to see if he was right. Sam meant to goad him into asking more questions, so he went along with the game. “And you talked all night?”

  “No.” Samuel chuckled. “Just for awhile—‘til we were all talked out.”

  “When did you sleep?”

  “We took turns sleeping. She was tired and about crying when I arrived.”

  “So, you comforted her?”

  “Why, sure.”

  “You’re a bad liar.” A barb of jealousy pricked Jim’s chest, and he tried reasoning with himself about it. She’s a child. Why can’t I get past that? It must be those soft blue eyes and her helpless appearance.

  “I’m not lying. I rocked Rosemary for her.”

  “That’s not comforting Ella Dessa.”

  “Well, yeah … I did that, too.” Sam’s tone grew smug. “Wrapped my arms around her and gave her the biggest kiss—”

  “Now, I know you’re pulling my leg. She wouldn’t accept that kind of consoling from the likes of you—boy.”

  “Hmm, that’s for you to think over.”

  “Mmm-hmm.” He let a moment pass before asking, “What did you talk about?”

  “What’s with all the questions?” Samuel caught up and rode abreast.

  “Just curious. She’s a smart girl.” He glanced at their surroundings. The trail leveled out and turned east. No smoky-colored haze covered the mountains. It was a cloudless, wintery-blue sky.

  “Too bad she can’t attend school.”

  “Yeah. She might do better at schooling than you do.” He looked sideways at his younger brother. “Eh?”

  Samuel’s face brightened. “I wouldn’t mind a bit.”

  “No?” The clopping of hooves kept tempo with their choppy conversation.

  “I’d just ask her to help me with my studies.” He swept his old hat off and held it over his chest. “Please, Ella Dessa, I’m falling … behind in reading. I need help.”

  “You’re amusing this morning.”

  “I got the most talent in the family.” Samuel grinned at him, apparently enjoying their banter of words. “I sang and entertained Rosemary when she cried last night.”

  “And she cried harder?”

  “No, she went to sleep. Ella Dessa appreciated my help.” A happy glint lit Samuel’s blue-green eyes.

  “You like her. Don’t you?”

  “She’s nice.” A tinge of pink colored his brother’s cheeks.

  “Why, Samuel McKnapp, you’re turning red as a rooster’s comb.”

  “Hey! What about that new girl at the wedding?” Samuel kicked his horse’s sides and rode on ahead. “You sure were sweet talking and spending time with her. What’s her name?”

  “Sophie Wald?” Jim contemplated his brother’s wide shoulders. Samuel would soon pass Duncan in size. Duncan had stayed on the short side, like their papa.

  “When do you plan on getting married?” Samuel shouted back at him.

  “What? Slow up. You crazy? Married—to Sophie? I hardly know her.”

  “No, I mean to anyone. If you found someone, would you marry her right away?”

  “You ask the craziest questions.” Shaking his head, he continued to stare at Samuel’s back. “I don’t plan to marry any time soon. I’m not eighteen, yet. I’m not marrying young. There’s a world to see beyond these mountains. Why?” His horse trotted just behind Samuel’s mount.

  “Just wondered how soon you’d be out of the running.”

  He rode up beside Samuel. “What does that mean?”

  “You’re going to lose!” Samuel gave a whoop of delighted laughter and slapped the reins against his horse’s neck. The old horse jumped and sidestepped. “Beat you to the finish. Go horse!” His mount straightened up and headed straight for the log barn. Its roof showed over the last rise, between tall pines.

  Jim loosened his reins, clicked his tongue, and leaned forward over the flowing mane. “Like fun you will, little brother. Not in this race or any other.”

  Chapter 24

  Friday, April 14, 1837

  She felt Velma’s curious eyes watch every line of ink in the copybook. Ella realized the lessons Samuel brought to her from the schoolmaster fascinated the young woman. She knew Velma considered schooling very important and did her best to encourage all the children. She didn’t put up with much idling when it came to lessons.

  “I must copy all six lines.” She bit down on her bottom lip and concentrated.

  “Do you haves Bible readin’ to do?” Velma leaned across the table so she could watch Ella write the looping letters in light strokes along the paper.

  “Not tonight. Carrie says she must read five verses. I just have these sentences.” She toiled over the last sentence she was to copy.

  “I will see that she does it while I nurse the baby.”<
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  Ella dipped her goose quill in the cone-shaped glass bottle of charcoal ink and paused. Her thoughts about the birth of the baby interrupted her concentration.

  Never had such fear gripped her as when Velma’s contractions got closer together. The vicious flashes of lightning had lit the woman’s grimaces as she bore down, and thunder obliterated her loud groans. Every crack in the log walls served as an entryway for the pounding rain, and it ran along the walls on the west side of the cabin. There had been no way to fetch Granny down the rain-slicked trail to help with the birthing. The contractions had come so fast and heavy, even Velma lost control of her usual staunch fortitude.

  Ella had put the three youngest to bed, with Rosemary bedded down with Mae. Scott and Carrie sat on the floor near the fireplace, which danced and sizzled with rain managing to splatter down the chimney. Their mother’s half-sobbed cries and the booming of the storm kept them craning their necks to look toward the bed. The only privacy was one quilt hung from the bottom of the loft.

  The lumpy, cornhusk mattress had added to Velma’s discomfort. “Ella, if I’m ever rich, I’ll haves a goose down mattress! Ohh!” She had reached to grip her legs and groaned with the next contraction. With a gasp, she rolled to her right side. “It’s comin’!”

  “I see its head!” Ella had reached to steady Velma’s uplifted knee, but felt useless as she watched the incredible birth.

  With hardly any effort, the woman delivered the chubby dark-haired infant. His angry cries had filled the single-room cabin while thunder rolled down the west side of the cove. Wind then swept the thunder up the east side, and Velma laughed.

  “It’s a boy!” she yelled out to her two oldest children. “You gots a new brother.”

  Ella had covered Velma with a sheet and worked with the infant boy. Her hands shook as she cleared his little mouth and wiped his round face. He wrinkled his brow and gave a harsh cry that seemed like music to her ears. She felt wonder at the perfect birth. Velma had almost seemed giddy and joyous as she gazed at her baby.

  “Oh, Velma, he’s perfect,” she had whispered. The new baby’s coloring didn’t match the blue-tinged baby she had seen born up on the mountain in the dreary cabin. This baby would live and not fight for breath.