Finally she had to sink to the ground, and she grabbed a handful of petticoat from beneath her dress hem. Ripping it loose, she split it in two by feel and gave half to Jute. She scrubbed at her eyes, then waved the cloth beneath her nose.
"What on earth possessed you, Jute?" she demanded. "I would think a boy as smart as you seem to be in the woods would have enough sense not to take a baby skunk from its mother!"
"I . . . I figgered I could outrun it," Jute admitted, wrinkling his nose and giving a sniff. "Pa said he had a skunk for a pet when he was little, and that iffen you got 'em early enough, when they was babies, they didn't stink."
Sarah rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Well, you surely weren't able to outrun it! And now look at the fine mess you've gotten us both into!"
"I's sorry, Miss Sarah. Really I's is. But I knowed that there skunk had her babies in that same stump last spring. I didn't find them till they was way too big for me to get one for a pet that year, though. I thought since we was already here this early this year, I'd just see iffen them baby skunks was already born."
He glanced at her rather hopefully. "Bet you don't have baby skunks on your bridle paths in the big city."
Her chuckle caught Sarah unaware. She closed her eyes to shut out the sight of that carrot-colored head and those freckles speckled across the rosy cheeks beneath those bright blue eyes. The little scamp had just gotten her sprayed by a skunk, and he should be disciplined, not forgiven.
"I didn't mean it to happen like this, Miss Sarah," Jute said in a soft voice. "I's ready for you to punish me however you sees fit. Me and Luke hid the dunce caps ole Pr . . . uh . . . Miss Elliot used to use. But I can show you where they's at."
With an extreme effort, Sarah choked back her laughter and rose to her feet. "Well, young man," she said. "I'll think about a fitting punishment while we walk back. I do realize that you didn't mean for anything bad to happen, but it did. Perhaps the memory of that might be sufficient punishment for you. What do you think?"
Jute rose to his feet and started down the path beside her. "You mean," he asked in wonder, "you'd let me help you decide whether I needed a lickin' along with havin' to carry this skunk smell 'round for days on end?"
"There will be no lickings," Sarah began, then stopped and stared down at him in dread. "What do you mean, carry this smell around for days on end? Can't we just take a bath when we get back and get rid of this odor?"
Jute solemnly shook his head in denial. "Uh-uh. Skunk smell hangs 'round forever. We's even gonna have to bury our clothes, from what Pa told me."
"Your pa actually told you what would happen if a skunk sprayed you, along with telling you that he had a baby skunk for a pet? And you still went ahead and tried to steal one of those babies from its mother?"
"Sounds sorta dumb when you put it that way, don't it?"
"Dumb?" Sarah's voice rose in a squeak. "Do you have any idea how many days this smell hangs around?"
Jute shrugged his shoulders.
"But I'm meeting all the mountain families tomorrow at the wake!" Sarah cried. "And I have to go out and visit them! Oh, Jute!"
She took Jute's arm again and started down the trail, the bright day dimming for her. Instead of hearing an almost human sounding "thief, thief" in the blue jay's call, its voice reverberated like a discordant squawk when the bird burst from a pine tree and swept through the woods, warning the other animals of their presence.
And, of course, she couldn't enjoy the clear mountain air. Instead, acrid skunk odor wafted around her, no matter how fast she quickened her pace to try to outdistance it. If Jute were right, her entire little cabin would probably soak up the odor and she'd never get rid of it.
~~~~
Wyn alternately hurried his steps on the trail and slowed them. The excited passel of children had somehow managed to get the tale of their teacher's run-in with a skunk across, along with the fact that his baby brother, Jute, had instigated the encounter. In turn he stifled laughter and chewed over concern, although he couldn't decide whether his concern should be for his brother's physical safety or Sarah's likely injured dignity.
Skunks in the wild were normally early-evening or nocturnal creatures, but leave it to Jute to know where there was a den. The twin had taken to the woods as soon as he could walk, and at times he appeared to know more about the animals than the animals knew themselves.
Finally he saw Sarah and Jute coming down the trail. Sarah's gold-brown hair hung in ragged tresses instead of her usual careful coif, but other than that, she looked all right. Well, except that now that she was closer, he could see her petticoat hem dragging the ground on one side of her dress skirt.
Jute, on the other hand, had muddy patches on his denim trousers and dark smears on his light blue shirt. One denim shoulder strap hung half-way down his arm.
Then the breeze shifted.
Wyn gagged. He hated skunk smell. Hell, he could smell skunk cabbage in the woods a mile away. That, not the arrival of the returning ducks and geese, always told him spring was close. In some years as early as February the skunk cabbage would flower, the terrible odor overriding the usually pleasant, pungent woodsy aromas. When flowering, skunk cabbage even heated up to where it melted the snow around it in order to spread its smell and attract pollinating insects.
Jute saw him and tried to jerk his hand free from Sarah's. "Wyn!" his little brother called.
Thankfully, Wyn saw Sarah maintain her hold on Jute.
"Uh . . ." Wyn halted and held out a cautioning hand. "Uh . . . you don't need to come any closer!"
Sarah pulled Jute to a stop, but snarled back at him, "What are we supposed to do? Stay out here in the woods with the baby skunks and their mamas until the smell goes away? Jute tells me that could take weeks!"
"It's too early in the season for baby skunks," Wyn tried to tell them.
"Tell that to that mother skunk!" Sarah started forward again. "We're coming down to take a bath! You're in our way!"
Her warning was plain, and Wyn backed up, stumbling over a rock in the trail. Barely catching himself before he fell, he ducked off the trail a ways and let Sarah and Jute pass. At least the wind would blow away from him as he followed them. But he let them get quite a distance in front of him before he stepped back onto the trail.
"You'll have to use tomato juice," he called.
Sarah stopped again to look back at him, and Wyn immediately halted also. No way was he going to get any closer. One night in his teens he'd been out coon hunting with a friend, and they'd encountered a skunk. Even though they escaped the spray, they'd smelled it when the skunk warned them off. Wyn had lost his supper and never lived down the embarrassment.
"Tomato juice?" Sarah asked. "What on earth are you talking about?"
"It helps get rid of the smell," Wyn told her. "Nothing can get rid of it completely, but tomato juice helps. Mandy will know what to do, I'm sure."
"Mandy? It wasn't Mandy's relative who stirred up this mess. It shouldn't be Mandy's house that has to get smelled up while we try to wash this stuff off us."
"But we've got a baby at the store," Wyn pleaded, proud of himself when the quick retort flashed into his mind. "I don't know as having that smell there would be good for Baby Sarah." And it darned sure wouldn't be good for him!
Sarah sniffed, and then her face got white. Wyn barely managed to hold back his laughter when he realized she'd been attempting a sniff of scorn for his excuse, but had forgotten about the smell for a second and gotten a nose full of skunk scent instead. Then guilt stabbed him, and he lost the urge to laugh. He even took a step toward the pair of them, but the wind shifted once more.
"Aggghhh!" He tore off into the woods again. He made it to a fallen tree trunk to lean on while his stomach emptied.
When the dry heaves started, he heard Jute's voice say matter-of-factly, "Wyn don't take to skunk smell very good. I heard Danny Boy Peters a'tellin' 'bout how Wyn puked for ten minutes once when they run across a skunk when they w
as out coon huntin'. We mights well go on. Wyn'll probably be there a while."
They were gone when Wyn managed to stumble back to the trail. He figured his face was probably as white as Sarah's had been, but he had to get back down to the store.
Chapter 8
The mountain families began arriving soon after daybreak the next morning, on another clear, beautiful day. The first arrivals helped Wyn move sawhorses and boards from the storeroom and set up tables in the front of the store. From the boardinghouse porch, Sarah watched them work, summoning her courage as she had tried to do most of a restless night. She had moved among the cream of the elite in New York society with complete ease, her background giving her equal footing with them. Here she would be judged on her ability to teach the mountain people's children — not her breeding or dowry.
Skirts flying, Mairi raced down the porch steps at the store and headed for the boardinghouse. Sarah watched her come with an ache in her throat. No matter how hard she tried to distance herself from Mairi, she found it impossible. She was fair in the classroom, of course. She stifled the urge to praise Mairi to the rafters when the young girl proved herself a very apt student with a quick mind. Instead, she contented herself with a "Very good, Mairi," while her heart swelled in pride. It would be hard on Mairi if the other children accused her of being the teacher's pet.
To be honest, she was starting to feel a tiny bit of pride in almost all of the children. The first day she taught, they'd been wary of her, probably because of their treatment from Prudence Elliot. But by the end of even that first day, she'd overheard Patty telling Carrie that she'd actually enjoyed the day at school.
It had taken Carrie a little bit longer to decide the fun of learning was just as important as having Lonnie Fraiser smile back at her. Carrie had done her own turnaround, however, a couple days later when she realized Lonnie truly was enjoying their discussion on the differences in the South's lifestyles before and after the War Between the States. At first, Carrie appeared only to want to impress Lonnie with her knowledge, then she'd started to become interested herself.
Mairi rushed up to her, carrying a cloth covered basket. "Hope you haven't finished eatin', Miss Sarah! I baked some muffins yesterday evening, and I saved back a couple for you and Wyn, since you didn't neither one get any last night."
"How thoughtful of you, Mairi. Can you come in and sit with me while I have another cup of coffee and enjoy my muffin?"
"Sure." She skipped over to the door and held it open for Sarah. "I already helped do the breakfast dishes at our house. Carrie fixed breakfast for us, 'cause Sissy and Robert are still in bed."
As they walked toward the kitchen, Mairi continued, "Can you figure it out? All these folks are coming today, and we'll have all sorts of friends to play with, all day long instead of just at recess. And they're still a lollygagging in bed. Guess they're probably making over Baby Sarah. Robert, he was right proud of Baby Sarah when he saw her."
"I didn't get a chance to meet Robert last night," Sarah said, looking around the kitchen for Mandy. But the older woman wasn't in sight. "I'm looking forward to it today."
"Hope you don't mind me saying this, Miss Sarah." Mairi wrinkled her nose a tad. "I think you oughta take another bath in that tomato juice this morning if you can. Before you come over to meet all the folks."
"Oh, dear!" Sarah sniffed, but couldn't smell herself. "I put on some rose water this morning. I was hoping it would cover up the scent."
Mairi shrugged. "Just smells like a skunk's got into a rose bush."
Although she forced a chuckle at Mairi's comment, Sarah's eyes teared. That wasn't like her in any way. She usually handled a dig at herself with complete aplomb. Lord knew she'd had plenty of practice covering up her feelings with her father. It must be the strain of meeting the parents with so little sleep, she decided.
She tried to casually backhand the tear that escaped, but Mairi's face creased in remorse. "I'm sorry, Miss Sarah. I shouldn't have said that, but I thought you might want to know." She set the basket on the table and shoved it across to Sarah. "Here. One of my muffins will make you feel better. Please eat it. I'll get you a cup of coffee from the stove."
Sarah blinked her tears back and sat, pulling the tea towel from the basket. The muffins did look delicious, with what might be blueberries in them. Stomach tense with worry, she'd eaten hardly any breakfast. As Mairi set a cup of coffee in front of her, Sarah picked up a muffin.
"Sissy had some blueberries left from what she'd canned last summer," Mairi said as she settled in the chair across the table. Propping her chin on her palm, she watched Sarah very closely, it seemed, while she took a bite of muffin. "I been practicing how to cook, since I'm getting of an age where it's time I learned."
"Well, these are delicious," Sarah assured her.
Mairi's face creased in a smile. "Then you be sure and eat every bite, so I'll know you really mean it."
"There seems to be some other taste here — something besides blueberries."
"No!" Mairi's eyes widened and she stared around the kitchen instead of meeting Sarah's gaze. "I mean . . . uh . . . well, you know. Sometimes cooks don't want to tell their recipes. It can be like a family secret recipe."
The back door off the kitchen opened, and Mandy walked in, with Wyn following her.
"Hello, Mairi," Mandy greeted. "Oh, muffins. You've been practicing baking again."
"Yes, Miz Tuttle. Uh . . . I'm sure you're probably too full from breakfast to have one. But I bet Wyn's got room for a muffin. He left before Carrie got the mush done this morning."
Wyn shook his head, slowly backing toward the door. His nose twitched.
"I thought you were out on the porch," he said, his words aimed at Sarah. "I came over to see if Mandy had any more canned tomatoes from last summer. Jute's still a little rank this morning."
"As I am, I guess! Something like a skunk in a rose bush?" Sarah shoved her chair back and stood, leaning on the table to brace herself as she told him exactly what she thought of his rudeness.
But he disappeared out the door. His boots clumped once on the back steps, but he would have plenty of time to round the house and head back to the store before she could catch him. Her breath whooshed out in anger, and she looked over at Mandy to see the older woman with a hand over her mouth, eyes twinkling above her fingers.
Catching another movement out of the corner of her eye, she twisted her head in time to see Mairi sidling out of the kitchen, her muffin basket in her hand.
"I'm gonna take Wyn his muffin," the little girl said. Without another word of apology, she scurried down the hallway.
Sarah sighed in defeat and looked at Mandy again. "Do you have any more tomato juice? I can take it over to my cabin and send for Jute, so we can both take another bath."
"No need," Mandy said. "I do have some more jars of juice in the basement, and I've also got a large tub in the room off the kitchen here. It'll be warm in that room, and we can fill the tub from the reservoir on my stove. After you soak in the tomato juice first."
"But the smell . . ."
"This house is larger than your cabin and the bathing room's got windows I can open. Go on in there while I get the tomato juice. You can tell me what dress you want, and I'll get it for you when I go over to bring Jute here. The one you have on has probably already soaked up the odor, but it shouldn't be as bad as the dress we had to bury yesterday. This one will probably come clean, if we soak it long enough."
Giving in, Sarah started toward the room Mandy indicated, leaving her muffin half-eaten on the table.
"And Sarah," Mandy said. "Don't mind Wyn. He's allergic to skunk smell, from what I hear."
"Yes. I've heard that, too." With a huge effort, Sarah kept the snarl from her voice.
~~~~
Sarah could tell there was at least a touch of odor still clinging to her as she met the mountain families. But they were too polite to say anything, unlike Wyn MacIntyre's rudeness that morning. Or perhaps some
of them had had a run-in with a skunk a time or two. Whatever the case, they were all very nice to her, only wrinkling their noses briefly, then catching themselves and stopping.
She kept a few names straight by pairing them with their children, but many of the families didn't have children in her school. They all appeared to be either lifelong friends or close or distant relatives, though. Mairi, having returned with Mandy and helped both her and Jute with their tomato juice soaks and baths afterward, appointed herself Sarah's escort, and Pris tagged along after them.
Mairi gloried in her own importance when she told and retold the tale of Sarah finding her in New York City. Her voice got a tad hoarse when she spoke of her parents, but she visibly brightened when she told of Sarah's loving care.
The families continued to arrive all morning, as the day warmed even beyond the previous day's temperatures. At one point, a garishly-painted red, white and blue wagon came down the trail from higher on the mountain side. A butterscotch-colored mule wearing a straw hat covered with red poppies bobbing in the breeze pulled the wagon. In the back of the wagon was a rocking chair with someone sitting in it, although Sarah couldn't tell if she knew the chair's occupant or not, since the rear of the chair faced forward.
A respectful pall of silence filtered through the crowd of people, and each creak of a wagon wheel badly in need of oil made Sarah wince until the wagon pulled up to a space that appeared to have been left for it at the front of the store. Indeed, the other wagons and even a couple buggies were all parked at the sides of the road stretching up and down the mountain. The butterscotch-colored mule, without apparent guidance from the small, gnarly-faced man on the wagon seat, walked straight into the open space and stopped.
Dan rolled his wheelchair over to the edge of the porch.
"Howdy, Tater," he said. "Glad you and your mama could come."
The little man nodded and stood. Reins dangling from knotted-knuckled fingers, he stretched his back as though to relieve the strain from him riding with his elbows on his knees.
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