A Courtship on Huckleberry Hill

by Jennifer Beckstrand

  “Me either.”

  * * *

  Sam had never tried so hard to get someplace he didn’t want to go. Wally’s physical therapy appointment had taken far longer than Sam had anticipated. They couldn’t afford physical therapy at all, so the therapist had spent extra time explaining all the exercises to Wally so he could do them at home and not have to go back. Eventually, Wally wanted to learn how to run and do everything on his fake leg that other children could do on a real leg. Sam couldn’t argue with that. Elsie had given Wally a new excitement for life, and Sam would have done just about anything to keep up his brother’s enthusiasm.

  Sam pulled the buggy far to the side of the road and unhitched the horse. Even though he was in a hurry, Rowdy deserved to be sheltered in the barn while Sam broke up with Anna Helmuth’s granddaughter. Well, it wasn’t a breakup, because they weren’t together, but it felt like breaking up. Anna had her heart set on a match between Sam and her granddaughter, and she wasn’t going to be happy about Sam nixing it before it even got off the ground. Sam couldn’t begin to guess how the granddaughter would react. Like as not, she’d melt into a puddle of tears and sob like her heart was breaking. He couldn’t help that girls liked him. The gute news was that it was rainy and cold. They wouldn’t be able to stand out on that bridge all evening. He could make his rejection short and sweet and then go away and let the granddaughter cry into her lemonade if she wanted to. It wasn’t his fault that Anna had picked the wrong boy to match with her granddaughter.

  Sam pressed his straw hat onto his head as he ran out of the barn and around to the back of the house where Yutzys’ footbridge stood. He slowed to a walk when he saw that no one was there to meet him. A low growl came from deep within his throat. How late was he? Had the granddaughter already given up? If he had missed a chance to talk to her, he would kick himself into next Sunday. Oh, sis yuscht, he was irritated beyond belief.

  With his gloved hands stuffed into his pockets, he strolled onto the bridge and stopped in the very center. How long should he wait? He would hate to give up. That would mean another forced meeting, another day spent dreading what he had to do. He glanced at the house. Maybe the granddaughter was watching for him inside. It was cold and wet, but he’d wait a few more minutes. Lord willing, the granddaughter would appear any minute.

  The Yutzys’ backdoor opened, and a girl stepped out of the house. Sam’s heart thudded with dread and anticipation. Finally! This whole thing would be over once and for all. It was too far away to see her face, especially wrapped as she was in her shawl and bonnet, but she didn’t look to be old or disabled in any way. Definitely not disabled. She marched across the lawn and through the trees as if she had a chip on her shoulder and she was planning on challenging Sam to a fight. She soon got close enough for Sam to see her face. Carolyn Yutzy? She was Anna’s granddaughter?

  Nae. That couldn’t be. Sam had known Carolyn all his life. She and Anna weren’t related. Carolyn was a wonderful nice girl, sensible and smart, but Sam had no interest in her. Certainly this couldn’t be the match Anna was planning on.

  Carolyn stomped onto the bridge and propped her hands on her hips. “Sam Sensenig, what are you doing here?”

  Carolyn was usually much more friendly than this. Maybe she was still sore at him for bothering Elsie at that singeon at Eichers’. Her hostility put him in an even worse mood than he was in already. He felt humiliated enough without Carolyn knowing why he was standing on her footbridge. She wasn’t a gossip, but he still didn’t feel inclined to tell her his personal business.

  Still, he wasn’t going to lie to her. “I’m meeting someone, if you don’t mind.”

  She narrowed her eyes and studied him as if she thought he might rob her if she wasn’t on her guard. “You’re the one, aren’t you?”

  “The one what?”

  “You asked Anna Helmuth to match you up with her granddaughter, didn’t you? You knew she wouldn’t go willingly if she found out who you were.”

  Sam felt his frown cut into his face. “Don’t blame me. I never asked Anna to match me with anyone. It was her idea, and I only agreed to this meeting so Anna would quit pestering me.” Only when he shut his mouth did he stop to consider that Carolyn knew an awful lot about it.

  Carolyn didn’t seem to mind prying. She took a step closer. “Do you know who Anna’s granddaughter is?”

  He rolled his eyes. “Probably some forty-year-old knitter who is desperate for a husband.”

  Carolyn folded her arms as a hint of a smile played at her lips. “You are incorrigible, Sam Sensenig, and I know firsthand that Anna’s granddaughter does not want anything to do with you.”

  That was a little harsh. Sam wasn’t that bad of a person. “Does she know who I am?” Because if she knew who he was, she probably would at least want to meet.

  “She wants you to quit trying to meet her and leave well enough alone.”

  He gave her one of his most ferocious growls. He meant it to show her how irritated he was, but his pride was just the slightest bit wounded. Carolyn didn’t seem the least bit impressed. “That’s what I want too,” he said. “I want Anna Helmuth and her homely granddaughter to leave me alone.”

  “Gute. I’ll tell her she doesn’t have to worry about you harassing her again.”

  If she was purposefully trying to annoy him, she was doing a gute job of it. “I’m not harassing her. Tell her mammi to stop knitting me pot holders and inviting me to dinner.”

  “You can be sure of it,” Carolyn said. She turned her back on him, stepped off the bridge, and started across the lawn. “Some boys just can’t get it through their heads to quit bothering people,” she mumbled, but Sam heard her well enough. How could she even believe this was his fault? He gave her the stink eye, even though she had her back to him and couldn’t see it. She turned suddenly as if she could feel his glare through the back of her head. “Just so you know, she’s not old or homely, and you could be the bishop’s son and a millionaire and you still wouldn’t be good enough for her, so don’t get on your high horse,” Carolyn called, before she disappeared into the house.

  Sam scowled. He was good enough for any girl. He just wasn’t interested. It took all his energy to deal with Mamm and Wally, and even Rose sometimes. Elsie had finally set his family somewhat to rights. A girl would only complicate things.

  Yesterday Elsie had helped Wally learn how to add fractions with a dozen cupcakes and a whole tub of frosting. And they weren’t just any cupcakes. She called them her specialty, orange soda pop cupcakes, and they were appeditlich. Wally had learned how to add fractions in about ten minutes flat, because Elsie let him take a bite whenever he got the right answer. Sam smiled to himself. He’d never appreciated his teachers and had only found fault with Wally’s, but Elsie was a genius. She probably could have taught a pig to whistle.

  But smarts were only part of why Sam liked her so much. She was stubborn and determined and firm where she thought herself to be right—not to mention her smile made the hair on the back of his arms curl. He got all tingly just thinking about her, and Sam was not one to get tingly for anything.

  Sam glanced over at the house. The lights were glowing inside, and he could hear the faint voices of die youngie visiting with each other and playing Ping-Pong. There was nothing there for him, except maybe a pretzel, and Rose had brought over a plate of cookies earlier today. He’d probably be fine if he didn’t eat another thing for a month. He stepped off the bridge. Maybe Elsie had decided to come tonight. Pretzels or no pretzels, he’d go in if Elsie were there. She’d smile at him, and he’d tell her a joke and make her laugh. He really liked the sound of her laugh and the glow of her smile. Maybe he’d go in for a minute, just to see if Elsie was there.

  He turned in the direction of the house and just as quickly turned away again. Rose had told him that she was planning on being here tonight, and she had especially urged him to come, simpering and pouting that he never came to gatherings. Even though they were friends,
Sam couldn’t bear the thought of trying to put up with Rose tonight. It would be even worse if Elsie had come. Despite all his efforts, Rose seemed to dislike Elsie more than ever. She made herself very unpleasant when Elsie was around, and she had dropped in more than once to “sit in” on Elsie and Wally’s lessons just to make sure Elsie was teaching Wally correctly. It was a little ironic, seeing as how Rose had always hated arithmetic. Sam would rather not deal with Rose’s tantrums tonight, no matter how much he wanted to see Elsie.

  He’d see her on Friday.

  That thought warmed him clear through.

  Sam trudged around the side of the house to retrieve his horse from the barn and nearly ran into Elsie coming from the other direction. It was no wonder. She had her head down and walked as if escaping a burning house. “Elsie,” he said, reaching out his arms and grabbing her shoulders before they had a collision. She had a folded napkin in one hand and her black bonnet in the other.

  “Sam?” Elsie’s smile bloomed like a patch of morning glory. “I’m surprised to see you here.”

  “I was just leaving.”

  “Before you even went in?”

  He gave her a crooked smile. “I chickened out.”

  “I was just leaving too.”

  He glanced at the napkin in her hand. “Did you come just for the pretzels?”

  Elsie laughed, but he sensed the irritation in her voice. “I thought taking three pretzels would make up for having a rotten time. There’s a certain young man in there who can’t leave well enough alone, and I’m not really in the mood to fend off would-be boyfriends.”

  “Somebody was bothering you?” Sam didn’t know why, but his gut twisted around itself. Boys shouldn’t bother girls who don’t want to be bothered.

  She grunted. “Somebody was annoying me.”

  “Why should that drive you away? I annoy you all the time.”

  She gazed at him, and her eyes sparkled with their own light. “You are wonderful annoying, but I put up with you because you feed me dinner and pull boulders from my ball field.”

  He chuckled. “Maggie feeds you dinner, and there was only one boulder. I’m afraid I may have used up all the goodwill you ever felt for me.”

  “Don’t be silly. I never had any goodwill for you, Sam, ever since you came stomping up my stairs in those boots of yours.”

  A gust of wind nearly snatched the bonnet out of Elsie’s hand.

  “Cum,” Sam said, cupping his hand around her elbow and leading her to the barn. “It’s a little warmer and drier in here.” Inside, he found some matches and a lantern hanging from a post. He struck a match and lit the mantle, and the lantern hissed to life. He hung it back on the peg, and he pulled out two milking stools for them to sit on.

  She sat and offered him a pretzel. “There’s no honey,” she said. “I didn’t want to get sticky.”

  He took the pretzel and bit into it. “Delicious. It doesn’t need honey or mustard.”

  Elsie took a bite of one of her remaining pretzels and pure enjoyment spread over her face. It was the same when she came to eat at Sam’s house. He loved that look. She was so appreciative and so feisty and so . . . adorable. He could look into her eyes for hours and never get bored.

  “Mmm. I love gute food,” she said.

  He eyed her doubtfully. She must not be a very good cook. Every time she’d come to his house to eat, she ate as if it was her first or maybe last meal. “Hungry?” he said, winking at her.

  She stopped chewing and cocked an eyebrow in his direction. “I worked up an appetite fending off a persistent boy.”

  Sam tried not to frown. Who was this persistent boy, and did Sam need to have a talk with him? Quit bothering the teacher. She needs to keep up her strength. Whoever he was, he wasn’t good enough for Elsie. She was smart and feisty and . . . oh, just everything. There weren’t enough words to describe how wunderbarr she was. Elsie needed a boy like Sam, who truly appreciated her intelligence and determination. She needed a boy who wasn’t irritated that she liked to contradict people and speak her mind and do what she felt was right, no matter the consequences.

  He kind of liked those things about her. He swallowed hard. She definitely needed someone like him.

  “On Friday Wally and I are going to start subtracting fractions,” Elsie said. “I’m going to bring my famous lasagna. It cuts nicely into twelve pieces.”

  Sam didn’t want to say anything, but if Elsie was as bad a cook as he suspected, maybe Maggie should make the lasagna. “Okay,” was all he could think to say.

  She narrowed her eyes and smiled that mischievous smile of hers. “You don’t believe me? I’ll have you know, a boy fell in love with me after one taste of my lasagna.”

  That lump in his throat became a boulder. “Who?”

  She pressed her lips together. “Someone in Charm. I won’t embarrass him by telling you his name. He is another persistent one.”

  Who were these boys who wouldn’t quit bothering Elsie? Sam had had just about enough of them. “Is he . . . is he your boyfriend?”

  Elsie laughed, and Sam nearly sighed out loud with relief. “He wanted to be, and I tried to turn him down as gently as possible, but he wouldn’t take no for an answer. It was probably a blessing in disguise that the school board didn’t like me. He would still be trying too hard if I had stayed in Charm.”

  Sam wanted to march clear to Charm and give what’s-his-name a talking to. “It sounds like it doesn’t matter where you go. The boys won’t leave you alone.”

  “Most of the boys in Bonduel are wonderful nice.”

  Sam did his best not to scowl. She’d only been here three months. How did she really know if the boys were nice or not?

  Elsie licked some salt off her finger. “Of course, when I first came here, I didn’t think the boys were nice. This one particular boy often came to the school and yelled at me.”

  He could tell she was joking, but his throat swelled up until he almost choked on his remorse. It was a sign of her gute heart that she didn’t despise him. He lowered his eyes. “I was very rude. I’m sorry.”

  She studied his face. “You’ve already apologized, and I like to think we know each other better now.”

  “That should make it worse for me—now that you know me well. I’m not very good at being nice.”

  Elsie showed him her exasperated face. “Of course you are. You’d do anything for Wally or anyone in your family. You pulled out that rock from the softball diamond, and you let me pitch to you.”

  “I smacked you in the face with a ball.”

  “That was my fault for giving you an easy pitch to hit.” She popped the last bit of her pretzel in her mouth. “You actually improve with time, Sam—like a block of bleu cheese.”

  “You mean I get riper and stinkier?”

  “I love that sharp, pungent smell. The more mold, the better.”

  That sounded like a compliment, sort of. “Well, I do like bleu cheese.”

  “Me too.”

  The way she said it sent a ribbon of warmth all the way down his spine. “Even though I was wonderful rude, I’m glad you don’t try to avoid me like that boy in Charm.”

  She grinned. “You haven’t driven me out of Bonduel yet. That should make you feel better.”

  He shook his head. “I’m ashamed to say I tried those first couple of weeks.”

  “You are nothing like Wyman,” Elsie insisted. “Lord willing, he has found a girl who likes him just the way he is.”

  Sam made a mental note to be on guard for a boy named Wyman from Charm—just in case Wyman decided to chase Elsie all the way to Wisconsin.

  “Do you want to split the last pretzel?” Elsie said, tearing it in half before he had time to answer. She handed it to him. “This is half of a pretzel. The numerator is one, and the denominator is . . .” She glanced at him with that expectant expression on her face she used with Wally when she was trying to coax an answer out of him.

  Sam chuckled. He wasn’t too b
ad at fractions. “The denominator is two. We’ve eaten enough pizza and cake together that I’ll forever be doing fractions in my head.”

  She nodded. “Gute. We all need more fractions in our lives.”

  “What I need is multiplication.” He took a bite of the pretzel and chewed it slowly.

  “You don’t know your multiplication tables?”

  “Of course I know my times tables. Nine times nine is eighty-one. Nine times eight is seventy-two. Nine times seven is sixty-three.”

  “Okay, okay,” she protested. “I believe you.”

  “I need to convince Mamm that I can make a dairy successful. We have enough savings to buy more cows and some basic equipment, but she thinks I’m deerich, foolish to spend the money when she’s sure I’ll be a failure at it.”

  Elsie patted him on the wrist, and a zing of electricity traveled up his arm. “Maybe she doesn’t think you’ll be a failure. Maybe she’s just frightened of taking a risk.”

  “Frightened of taking a risk on me.”

  Elsie laid her half pretzel in her lap. “Well, she’s lost your fater. Without you, where would she be? You already run the farm and support the family. Your mater seems like someone who needs stability. It’s not because she doesn’t have faith in you.”

  Sam nodded. “You’re right. I can see how you’re exactly right.” Sam was constantly amazed at Elsie’s intelligence. “I should give up on the dairy for my mamm’s sake.”

  “Of course not. You just need to convince her that your plans won’t upset her life. You need to show her how this will make her life better, and your life better, and Wally’s. Those artificial legs can’t be cheap.”

  He furrowed his brow. “I’m not wanting to start a dairy so I can get rich.”

  “I know. But more money would make it easier to support your family. There’s no greed in that. You can give more to the church if you have more to give.” Her face lit up with an idea. “Maybe some multiplication and fractions and addition will help convince your mamm. I can help you figure out how much it will cost to get a dairy up and running, and then we can compute how much money you can make every year selling your milk. We might be able to talk your mamm into it if we show her the numbers.”