Sycamore Hill

by Francine Rivers

  “I don’t intend to go into it,” I told her. “It was a needless accident.”

  “Did Jordan do that?” Ellen asked, distressed now and looking at me oddly.

  “It happened exactly the way I told you.”

  “Well, then, you’d better learn how to sit your horse a little better.”

  I smiled reassuringly. “I’ll be getting more practice,” I told her, thinking of my weekly rides to Eden Rock to tutor Diego. I opened the door to leave.

  “Abby.”

  I turned back. Ellen looked disturbed and pensive as she watched me.

  “Don’t leave yourself open to hurt,” she told me. “I think you’re more vulnerable than you like to let on.”

  “I know what I’m doing.” I smiled, thinking of the warning she had given me about the school board’s finding out about my tutoring.

  “I wonder if you do. You might find more at Eden Rock than you can cope with.”

  It was only after I was walking home that I realized Ellen Greer was thinking of my feelings for Jordan Bennett.

  Chapter Nine

  A soft, mewling cry awakened me from an exhausted slumber. Lying motionless on my pallet, I strained to hear any sound that might reveal what had roused me from the first sound sleep I had had since finding the warning messages on the blackboard. Again the cry came, softly penetrating the darkness.

  Pushing the cover back, I swung my legs off the narrow bed and touched bare feet to a cold, wooden floor. Shadows filled my small room, and I stared at each one until I was able to explain their presence. Rising, I listened. I heard nothing except the same owl who haunted the oak tree, and the symphony of crickets that harmonized in the quiet comers of the building.

  Slowly, I tiptoed across my room. The October night was unusually chilly, and I hugged my high-necked nightgown close to my body.

  Again the cry came, this time a desperate sound in the darkness, a plea for help. Opening the schoolroom door, I peered in. By straining my ears, I tried to pinpoint where the sound was coming from and what was making it. Then I saw a small, forlorn shadow against the front window. Recognizing the shape, I hurried across the deserted classroom and opened the front door of the schoolhouse.

  Sitting precariously on the front windowsill was a small stray black cat. It yowled again, looking at me.

  “What are you doing there?” I asked with a laugh. There was a goodly distance between the railing and the sill, and I could not understand how the cat had leaped so far. The cat meowed again and stepped gingerly to the edge, then peered toward me.

  “Come on, cat, jump back, and I’ll catch you,” I held out my hands. The cat sat back distrustfully and yowled again.

  I judged the distance between the railing and the cat and realized it would be quite a stretch to reach the animal. I jiggled the railing slightly, and it seemed sturdy enough. The cat was eyeing me wearily as I leaned toward it. When my fingers brushed the fur slightly, it backed away. I had to stretch away even farther, finally managing to get the scruff of its neck. Just as I was lifting the light weight, the railing gave a loud crack. Yanking backward, I just managed to catch my balance as the railing gave way and toppled into the blackness below the steps. My heart was thudding as I looked over the steps and down. It was a good six feet to the hard ground. If I had fallen, I would surely have broken something. I let out a sigh of relief.

  “That was close.” I laughed shakily, stroking the cat’s head with trembling fingers. “The whole schoolhouse seems to be falling down around me. I’ll have to have that railing repaired early tomorrow before the children come.”

  The cat snuggled tightly against my chest as I caressed it. “What were you doing up in the window? And how did you get there, you silly cat?”

  The small, scrawny black cat mewed again as I reentered the schoolhouse and shut the door behind me. “I think I have some milk and a little bread. Does that sound good to you?”

  Setting the animal down, I rummaged through my small cupboard. The cat meowed plaintively and pressed itself against my legs. Pouring some milk into a saucer, I pinched off pieces of bread to soak. Then I put the meal on the rough-hewn table. Lifting the cat up, I sat down and watched it set to hungry work, lapping up the milk and gulping down the sodden bread.

  “Pretty hungry, aren’t you?” I smiled and stroked the soft fur. “You’re welcome to stay. I’ve plenty of room. There’s no one else but the owl, the crickets and me until the children come for school in the morning, and they’ll be delighted to see you here.”

  The cat arched its back against my hand, and I scratched it. It made an ecstatic sound deep in its throat.

  “What shall I call you? How about Orphan? You look neglected enough to be one,” I said, continuing the petting. The cat purred on. When I stopped, the cat mewed, then sat down and began its tedious grooming.

  I looked around the room and tried to decide where best to put my new friend. Opening a bottom drawer in the commode, I took out several pairs of pantaloons and some soft camisoles before putting in a rough towel. Lifting the cat from the table, I set it in the drawer. Orphan sat down and continued licking her fur.

  “There. That drawer is your new home, if you want it,” I told her. Then settling back onto my own bed, I sighed. Somehow, even the presence of the small, stray cat seemed to ease the loneliness a bit. Only Ellen Greer had accepted me without conditions, but Ellen only lightened my existence for an hour once a week. Strange how an animal who could not talk to me offered such companionship.

  The following morning before seven, I went to the general store, intending to ask James Olmstead to fix the front railing. As I walked up the street, I saw Sheriff Hallender leaning against the wall just outside his office. I gave him a wave and a cheerful greeting. He waved back. Then he shoved his hat back on his head and strode up Main Street to do his early-morning rounds.

  Through the window of the store I saw James Olmstead stacking canned goods, and I tapped at the door. Surprised to see me so early, he opened it quickly. I explained about the railing, and he frowned in agitation.

  “It’ll have to wait,” he told me flatly. “I’ve got too much to do around here to be bothered with the schoolhouse. I’ll get to it some other time.”

  “I'm afraid it can’t wait that long, Mr. Olmstead. It’s a hazard. One of the children could fall and break a leg. You still haven’t fixed the back steps, and I’ve been there for almost two months.”

  Olmstead did not appreciate that reminder. “In case you hadn’t noticed, Miss McFarland, I’ve got a business to run. I haven’t got time to go traipsing around, making repairs on the schoolhouse,” he growled.

  “I know you’re busy.” I tried for levity. “And I understand how much you have to do. But couldn’t you find time to repair the front railing at least? Or perhaps you could find someone else to repair it?”

  “And if I find someone else, who’s going to pay for the work? I’ll tell you this. I won’t pay for it!”

  “You said that the school board was responsible for any repairs of this sort. Surely they have some fund that would cover the expenses,” I said, irritated by his disinterest.

  “Kids fall off things every day, Miss McFarland,” he said, turning back to the canned goods again. “You’re making too much out of it. Just let it go for a while, and when I get the time, I’ll fix it.”

  “I’m sorry, but that’s not good enough. It’s a matter of safety for the children,” I said, determined. “If one of the children falls from the front porch, it will be the school board’s responsibility for allowing the railing to go unrepaired.”

  Olmstead’s face turned beet-red with temper. “It won’t be my responsibility!” he protested in a loud, booming voice. “The upkeep of that place is your responsibility, and no one else’s.”

  “Mr. Olmstead—” I tried to calm the man. I wished I had our first conversation written down and signed by him so that I would have some proof of my stand. It was too easy for Olmstead and the
school board to make vague promises and then flatly deny them when faced with the inconvenience of upholding the agreement. This was only one incident in several. The back steps were still left unrepaired. The roof had leaked during the first rainstorm, and the children had to move their desks. The broken windows in the front were still unreplaced. The front railing was something I could not allow to go unrepaired. It was too dangerous for the children, who used those stairs every day they attended school.

  “Don’t bother me about this. I’ve got things to do!” Olmstead interrupted me, impatient and annoyed.

  “I cannot be a carpenter and a teacher in one, Mr. Olmstead,” I said coldly, my own temper rising. “You agreed to take care of major repairs on the building, and I'm afraid you will just have to find the time to keep that promise.”

  Olmstead turned around and stared at me in consternation. “How dare you speak to me in that impudent tone,” he barked.

  “It is not my intention to sound impudent. But, Mr. Olmstead, your own child attends our school. What if Andy were to fall off the porch and hurt himself? How would you feel then?”

  He ignored my supposition and hefted a sack of flour onto his back. He marched toward a bin where he intended to empty it. I stood astonished at his rude dismissal of my concerns for the children.

  “Mr. Olmstead,” I said, schooling my voice to respectful inquiry. Olmstead heaved the sack off his shoulder and dropped it with a thud next to the bin. Then he turned to glare hostilely at me.

  “You’ve got my answer. Do it yourself! I haven’t got the time. And if I had, I wouldn’t be spending it working on that old schoolhouse. I’ll go so far as to loan you a hammer, and the nails are cheap enough.”

  “Is there something wrong here?”

  I turned to look at Ross Persall. He stood in the doorway looking with interest at James Olmstead and me. The drawling voice was casual enough, but I suspected he had heard the last bit of conversation and knew exactly what was going on.

  “What can I do for you, Mr. Persall?” Olmstead asked effusively polite. Obviously, Persall was a valued customer and was therefore more important than the safety of 63 children, I thought with exasperation.

  “Did you have a problem, Miss McFarland?” Persall asked me with a smile, patently ignoring Olmstead, who was greedily awaiting Persall’s hotel order. The storekeeper’s face burned, and he looked at me with a warning expression. That bullying look might work on his wife, I thought, but it was not going to work on me!

  “Yes, Mr. Persall, I do have a problem. Mr. Olmstead is very busy, and the front railing on the schoolhouse is in desperate need of repair.”

  “Is that all?” Persall cast a contemptuous look in Olmstead’s direction. “I’ll get a couple of men on it right away. Olmstead could tell them what’s needed, and I’ll purchase the materials from Thompson’s.”

  Thompson had recently opened a small store and lumberyard in competition with Olmstead’s business. Olmstead’s face whitened, and his eyes flickered with alarm. Persall’s hotel order was large and brought in a good deal of income.

  “Miss McFarland will have to reject your kind offer, Mr. Persall,” he said in a bombastic tone, giving me a cursory glance that was meant to silence my tongue.

  “I have no intention of rejecting Mr. Persall’s offer, Mr. Olmstead,” I said pointedly. His face flushed, and his eyes blazed.

  “I think, Miss McFarland, that you have forgotten the rules,” he said, looking meaningfully at Ross Persall, who was watching this exchange with a slight smile.

  “I will remember your rules when you remember your obligations,” I retorted, just managing to keep my voice cool. Olmstead thrust his head forward pugnaciously, but he seemed lost for words. He was not about to offer his time to work on the front railing of the schoolhouse. I knew that I would hear more about my challenge later.

  “I’ll see you back to the schoolhouse,” Persall offered, standing aside so that I could pass through the door.

  “What about your order, Mr. Persall?” Olmstead called in obvious dismay. Persall looked at him and walked out behind me without a word.

  “I think you have gained yourself an enemy, ma’am,” Persall observed as he walked beside me. He put his hand lightly under my elbow as I crossed the street.

  “Mr. Olmstead is not counted among my best friends.” I smiled ruefully. We turned up McPherson. I felt Ross Persall looking at me, and I glanced at him questioningly. He smiled.

  “If Olmstead dismisses you, you can always come to work for me,” he suggested lightly.

  I laughed. “Doing what? I haven’t Miss Lane’s talents,” I said, thinking of her pretty voice. Ross Persall grinned.

  “How can you be so sure about that?”

  “My songs are limited to nursery rhymes.” I smiled back.

  “But I’ll bet you have a beautiful body.”

  I blushed bright-red and turned my face away. He laughed a low, attractive laugh.

  “I’m sorry I embarrassed you like that. I forgot you were a lady.”

  “Marba Lane is a lady,” I chastened coldly. Persall gave me a wry look, which I did not like.

  “What a prim expression you’re wearing,” he commented. “Don’t you like me?”

  “I don’t know you,” I evaded. Persall laughed again.

  “Marba Lane is a lady of sorts, but she’s not in your class,” he relented.

  I decided it was best to not answer. Hopefully, he would not discuss Marba Lane with me. I remembered his jacket on her bed when I visited and was not foolish enough to believe that his relationship with Katrina’s mother was entirely innocent. I found it unforgivable that he should speak disrespectfully of the woman. And besides, I liked Marba.

  Looking straight ahead, I saw two horses tied at the picket fence surrounding the play yard of the school. One was a small pinto, and the other a large, restless stallion snorting impatiently.

  “Isn’t that Bennett’s horse?” Persall asked, voicing my own nervous thoughts. Linda had not been in school for the past four days. I had not expected to see her until I rode to Eden Rock tomorrow morning. I had intended to speak with Jordan Bennett then about the importance of Linda’s being with other children.

  Persall followed me up the schoolhouse steps. I paused and indicated the broken railing lying on the ground. “This is what I was speaking of earlier, Mr. Persall. You can see what a hazard it is.”

  “Anyone who fell off these steps would be sure to break something,” he agreed. “Look at the rocks down there. I guess they were left after the foundation was finished. They should be carted away.” He bent down and looked at the braces. “Did the railing just topple over?”

  “Not exactly. I was leaning against it,” I said. “I guess I’m no lightweight.”

  Ross Persall looked me up and down and grinned. “You’re not exactly overweight either. If this thing had been nailed properly, it should have held up fine. It looks like a couple of nails were pulled here.” I leaned forward to look for myself, frowning. I glanced at the sill again, remembering my questioning feeling of the night before. How had the cat jumped so far? Or had someone placed her there after pulling the nails that held the railing? But why?

  “I’ll get one of my men to work on it right away,” Ross Persall was saying. I looked at him blankly and then forced a smile. He did not seem disturbed by what he had found, so why should I be? There was probably some logical explanation. The schoolhouse was old. Maybe the nails had jiggled loose over the years, and no one had noticed. Perhaps I was allowing my imagination to carry me away again.

  “I appreciate your help, Mr. Persall,” I said as he went back down the steps.

  “At your service anytime, Miss McFarland.” He winked, and there was a roguish glint in his eyes.

  When I entered the classroom, I found Jordan Bennett standing in the middle of the room, looking at the whitewashed walls that now covered the children’s murals. He turned his head and looked straight at me, something in his
eyes telling me clearly that he had heard Ross Persall outside. His first words confirmed it.

  “What was Persall doing here?”

  “The front railing broke loose. He’s going to have one of his men repair it before the children arrive this morning,” I answered. I glanced at the far corner where Linda had ensconced herself. The girl was staring at her hands, her bleak expression stating clearly that she did not want to be here without Diego.

  “Good morning, Linda,” I greeted. “Everyone has missed you.”

  “Good morning, Miss McFarland,” Linda responded politely, casting me a faintly embarrassed smile.

  “Linda has been feeling under the weather for the past few days,” Jordan said, giving his daughter a smile that drew a blush into her pale cheeks. Then he turned back to me.

  “I thought the school board was supposed to take care of all the repairs on this place,” he emitted in a low voice.

  “They were, but I’m afraid Mr. Olmstead and the other school board members don’t have the time to do the repairs,” I explained, wondering just where Jordan Bennett got his nerve to question me so imperiously.

  “So you drafted Persall into service?” He raised his brows.

  “Mr. Persall offered to help,” I answered coolly.

  “I’ll just bet he did,” Bennett grunted. “Persall doesn’t know the first thing about repairing anything, but he knows a lot about women.” I decided not to ask what he meant by that sneering comment.

  “At least he’s willing to see that someone does the work. And that’s all that’s necessary,” I said, simmering.

  “And beggars can’t be choosers,” he quoted demeaningly. I glared up at him.

  “I don’t see you beating down any doors to offer your help, Mr. Bennett,” I retaliated. “Now, was there anything else you had to say to me. Because if there isn’t, I have work to do before the children arrive.”

  Jordan’s mouth cocked up at one side, and his blue eyes lightened with sardonic amusement. “I wanted to know if you’d changed your mind yet.”

  “Changed my mind about what?”