Loving Liza Jane

by Unknown

  “You are the biggest and the tallest,” said little Todd Thompson.

  Rufus smiled, then gulped down the rest of his water.

  It was working. As Rufus Baxter’s self-worth improved, so did his grades. Liza had just finished correcting his English paper. Instead of the usual failing grade, she happily penned a large C+ at the top of his paper, and beside that, the words Fine Job!

  “After we make our paper chain, can we make more decorations?” Lili asked before sinking her teeth into a shiny apple.

  Liza laughed. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were trying to escape your assignments.”

  That remark produced a hearty laugh from several students, Lili included.

  “I’d like to make a Christmas angel,” offered a quiet Rosie Bartel. “I would hang it on my desk to remind me.”

  A kind of hush fell over the classroom with her petal-soft words. “To remind you of what?” asked Lenora Humphrey.

  “That God’s angel was watching over me and Mama. That’s why I come to live with Mr. and Mrs. Winthrop, because an angel told us that we should go there.”

  “No kidding?” asked Gus Humphrey, his green eyes big as the round tin plate on top of his desk. “Is she joshin’ us, Miss Merriwether?”

  “If she says an angel guided her to the Winthrop’s, then I will be the last to argue with her,” Liza said, praying her words were the right ones.

  One thing Liza did know for sure; Rosie and her mother had never been happier, and truth was folks were talking about the change they’d seen in Mrs. Winthrop. “Why, she’s been smiling and greeting us on the street,” Liza overheard one lady say to another at Johansson’s Mercantile. “It’s a marvel what that Bartel woman and her daughter done brought out in Iris’s face. All this time, I think she wanted to feel needed.”

  Although the eavesdropping hadn’t been intended, it had put a warm spot in Liza’s heart; but it also made her wonder how Mr. Bartel was faring with his boy. Since Mrs. Bartel still failed to file a complaint against Clement, the boy continued to roam free. Was he now turning his rage on his own father? But Liza supposed she couldn’t carry the weight of everyone’s burdens on her shoulders. She would have to leave some of the load to her heavenly Father.

  “Then I think you should make an angel,” Lili told Rosie, her comment forcing Liza back to the present.

  Liza finished off her sandwich, then urged everyone to clean up his or her area before donning winter gear and going outside for a brief play period.

  At the end of the day, Liza straightened her desktop, stacked her writing tools in her ribbon-trimmed canning jar, bent to pick up several pieces of paper from the floor that the students had missed during the clean-up period, and then moved to the closet to retrieve her coat and scarf. While slipping her arms through the sleeves of her long woolen coat, she surveyed the hastily made paper chain that hung above the doors and windows.

  Hanging down the front of Rosie’s and Lili’s desks were white-robed angels, looking tattered and lopsided. A sigh and a smile slipped past her lips. Liza thought they were perhaps the prettiest sight she had ever seen. Who but children knew best how to celebrate the Savior’s birthday?

  She bit her lip to chase back a tear at the thought of spending Christmas without Aunt Hettie and Uncle Gideon. Limited expenses had simply prohibited it, most of her excess monies having gone into making her cabin a home. And she was just now beginning to build up a meager savings for herself. No, she simply could not afford a train ticket back East, and she certainly couldn’t imagine riding all that way to the station with Mr. Brackett again.

  In truth, if she were to cozy up to anyone on a wagon seat, she would want it to be Benjamin Broughton.

  She stepped out into the brisk December air and watched her hot breath form a cloud, then quickly dissipate. It was almost Christmas, a time for rejoicing. Why then did she suddenly have to fight down a lump the size of the apple Lili had brought to school that day? Moreover, why could she never seem to get the image of Ben Broughton out of her mind?

  She hurried her steps to Sam’s Livery, head down to ward off the biting winds. Very few shoppers milled the streets on this particularly cold afternoon and Liza couldn’t blame them. Kentucky, although its snow accumulation was scant, could certainly boast its frigid temperatures and icy winds. She drew her collar up more snugly about her neck and started across the little alleyway that separated Little Hickman’s Post Office from Sam’s Livery. Suddenly, a giant tug on her arm jolted her backward, and the next thing she knew she was being dragged into the shadowy confines of the narrow alley.

  Gasping and panting, Liza fought down bile when she glimpsed Clement Bartel’s evil eyes and sniffed the stench of stale liquor on his acidic breath. “Clement,” she cried, “let go of me.”

  “Not a chance, Teacher,” he laughed hoarsely. “Not until I’m done with you.” The excited timbre of his voice, accompanied by his evil grin, scrambled her senses. She wriggled against his powerful hold but realized when he slammed her up against the wall of the livery, sending shards of pain up and down her spine, that her strength was no match. A glimmer of hope washed over her with the thought that Sam might have heard, but it quickly disappeared. With dozens of horses inside, all beating and stomping and snorting, why should Sam think a little thump against the wall was anything unusual?

  “You disappoint me, Teacher. I had you figured for bein’ nicer than you turned out to be.” He cleared his throat and hurled a wad of spit at her shoe.

  Liza turned her face away to avoid their close proximity. “I—I don’t know what you mean, Clement.”

  He snarled and pressed her up against the wall again, his face coming so close that she felt his hot breath on her ear, smelled its acrid odor. “You went to the sheriff.”

  “I had to. You pushed your sister off the porch, Clement.”

  Now he cursed. “That little pig is always gettin’ in my way. She gets what she deserves. You didn’t have to go to the sheriff.”

  “You beat your own mother, Clement,” Liza spat out.

  “She ain’t my mother!” he shrieked, planting his fist into her jaw before she had time to dodge it, jarring her wits. “And that’s for what your boyfriend did to me.” His clipped words dispersed traces of spittle across her face. Razor-sharp pain cut clear to her jawbone, as waves of light-headedness washed over her. She tried to scream, but a filthy hand covered her mouth, blocking her airflow, increasing the dizziness. When he readjusted his hold, she eked out a tiny sound.

  One more blow to the eye region had her moaning with gut-wrenching pain.

  “Dear Father,” she whispered as she felt herself slither down the wall and fall into a heap on the cold, hard earth, “help me.”

  She had no idea how long she lay there in her semiconscious state, but when she opened her eyes, she felt the sting of cold and pain, swallowed down a commingling of blood and bile, and sought out her offender. Waves of relief coursed through her when she realized he was gone. “Lord Jesus…” But the two-word prayer was all she could handle as she pulled herself slowly to her feet, grabbing hold of the wall to steady her, fighting down the urge to heave. Must get help, must get help…Lord, take me to safety.

  It took every bit of concentration she could gather to put one foot in front of the other, her blurred vision making the trek all the harder, so when she first laid eyes on Sam Livingston’s glorious approach, she wondered if her eyes were playing tricks on her, or whether she was looking into the face of a toothless angel. It didn’t matter, for when he reached out his arms to her, she lost her footing and fell into his waiting embrace.

  ***

  The pounding of approaching hoofbeats halted the Broughton’s evening meal. Even Molly dropped her spoon and squealed with delight at the thought of a visitor. Ben looked across the table at Lili and pushed back his chair, its shrieking legs protesting against the wooden planks.

  He drew back the curtain to peer out the window, then threw wide t
he door. “Emma, what in the world?”

  “Ben, you have to come quick,” said a winded Emma. “Liza’s been hurt.”

  Ben pulled her inside and closed the door against the biting air. “What?”

  “She was beat up in the alley between the post office and Sam’s Livery. Sam practically carried her into my place. Doc Randolph is with her now. Sheriff Murdock’s out investigating.”

  Clement Bartel. Untapped rage boiled to the surface as Ben went for his coat and hat. On impulse, he yanked his rifle off its high perch. Turning his gaze to a frightened Lili, he battled to stay calm. “Lili, you clean up the supper dishes. I’ll be back as soon as I can. See to your sister.” Then to Emma, “Drive out to Jon Atkins’ place. He’ll want to know.”

  “Jon Atkins?” asked Emma, her expression draped in confusion.

  “Just do it, Emma.” He stared at her until she offered him an empty nod.

  “Papa!” Lili’s scream punched him in the gut. When he whirled around, he bumped flat against her. Quickly he dropped to one knee and took the hysterical girl into his arms. By now, Molly had joined in the chorus, her screams echoing that of her sister.

  “Stay with them for a few minutes before you head out to Jon’s,” he said to Emma over Lili’s head. She gave him another vacant shake of the head.

  He kissed a salty tear on Lili’s cheek as it made a fast trail downward, then rocked back on his heel and cupped her face in both his hands. “Everything will be fine, sugar. You stay calm, you hear me? Your sister needs to know that she’s safe.”

  “But who would hurt my teacher?” she asked between sobs. Her seven-year-old mind couldn’t possibly grasp the ugliness of such an attack.

  “That is not for you to worry about.” What else could he say?

  “Are you going to kill him?” she asked, eyeing the rifle under his arm.

  Rather than answer the question, he eluded it. “I’m taking this for protection. Don’t worry. Everything will turn out fine. God is in control.”

  So why was it, he wondered, as he made fast work of harnessing the team to the rig, that it felt like everything had suddenly spun wildly out of control?

  He drove the rig with frightening speed, taking each bump with a wince, praying the wheels wouldn’t suddenly have a mind to go flying off their axle.

  At Emma’s, he leaped down, threw the reins over a hitching post, and pounded a trail up the porch steps and into the house.

  Several men whose names he didn’t know stood in solemn, hushed circles. Tenants? Ben tipped his hat at a shorter fellow.

  “You Broughton?” the man asked.

  “I am.”

  “Albert Dreyfus,” said the gray-haired fellow as he offered a hand. “Mighty big shame. Who would want to hurt such a pretty little lady?”

  “Where is she?” Ben asked, his breaths nearly matching the rate of his pounding heart.

  “In there. Doc’s with her.” Albert pointed to the small room with closed door. It was the same room where Molly napped in a crib during the day. He remembered there being a small daybed off to one corner.

  Ben sent up a hasty prayer and approached the room, knocking lightly before he turned the knob and entered.

  Doc turned at the sound. “Ben, she’s sleeping now. I gave her laudanum for her pain.”

  At first glimpse, Ben barely recognized her for the red, swollen cheek, split open at the jaw and covered with a bandage.

  “I had to stitch the wound. It should heal with barely a scar,” Doc said, knowing full well where Ben’s eyes had fallen. “I have good, steady hands.”

  The tender skin around her puffy eyelid had blackened where the blood vessels had burst with the impact of the blow she’d taken. Her usual neat head of hair lay in a mass of twisted curls around her head, dried blood adding to the tangle. Ben gasped in shock and dropped to one knee at her bedside. Without thought for what the doctor might think, he picked up her hand, finding it limp and lifeless, but taking comfort in the fact that her skin was still soft and warm. He kissed the top part of her hand, then gently turned it over and did the same with the palm, finally bringing her hand between both his hands, where he cupped it as he would a treasure.

  “She looks much worse off than she is, Ben,” Doc Randolph whispered. “She took a beating from that Bartel fellow, but she’s feisty enough to be up and around before you know it.”

  Ben turned his gaze upward. “How do you know it was Bartel?”

  “She confessed it to Emma before drifting off into a restless sleep.”

  “Emma failed to tell me that part.”

  “It’s Will Murdock’s job to handle things from here, Ben,” Doc said in soft tones. “Emma probably saw no point in telling you.”

  He’d known all along that Clement was the guilty one, but this simple confirmation from Doc only fed his fury. No doubt, Emma had guessed how he’d react and decided to keep the information to herself.

  “When will she wake up?” His eyes went to Liza’s motionless body.

  “She’ll be out for a while. Best not to disturb her.”

  Ben nodded, relieved to see the steady rise and fall of her chest beneath the down comforter. “I’ll stay with her.”

  “Good. I’ll be on my way, then. I’m due out at the Johnson’s farm. Myra is about to deliver her sixth.” Doc shook his head and gave a low chuckle before he sobered again and put a hand to Ben’s shoulder. “The teacher will be fine, Ben.”

  “And then what? Bartel attacked her. What will keep him from coming after her again?”

  Doc frowned. “I’m just as frustrated by that as you, Ben, but Will Murdock is a good man. He will see that justice is served. Probably on his way out there right now to arrest him.”

  Ben counted Liza’s breaths from the chair that he’d pulled up next to the bed. Every so often, he picked up her limp hand and gently squeezed in the hopes of reassuring her she was not alone. When she didn’t respond, he rubbed gentle circles into her forearm with the tips of his calloused fingers and whispered comforting words. “I’m here, Liza. I want you to know you’re safe and you’re not alone. He won’t hurt you again, honey.”

  But even as he spoke the words, he wondered how he could make such a promise. Unless someone stopped Clement Bartel, he was bound to strike again.

  A good hour passed before Ben heard the stomping of feet just inside the house and then the quieter approach of footsteps. Ben’s head went up when the door opened and Emma stepped inside, followed by Jon’s towering presence.

  “How is she?” Emma whispered, her face consumed by worry.

  “She’s been sleeping the entire time. Were my girls okay when you left them?” Ben asked, still haunted by Lili’s frightful scream.

  “They had calmed down considerably. I didn’t take off for Jon, uh, Reverend Atkins’ place until I felt comfortable in leavin’ them.”

  “Thank you. I appreciate that.”

  Jon’s eyes fell to Liza’s still frame as he stepped in closer. Not surprisingly, he reacted in much the way Ben had; he dropped to one knee and took Liza’s small hand in his. “Oh, sweet Liza,” he whispered.

  Ben stood. “Here, have a seat.” He supposed it was only right that Jon usurp his position as caregiver now that he had arrived.

  Without acknowledging Ben’s generous maneuver, Jon sat, holding to the teacher’s small, lifeless hand, deep concern etched in every aspect of his expression.

  “Who would do this, Ben?” Jon asked.

  Ben eyed Emma. “You didn’t tell him either?”

  Jon forced a burst of air through his closed-up mouth. “I couldn’t get much more than a few words out of Miss Browning. Did you expect her to tell me who did it?”

  “I didn’t think it was necessary,” she said, her face pinched.

  “It was Clement Bartel,” Ben told Jon. Then to Emma, “Did she give you any details, Emma?”

  She wrung her worried hands. “No, just that Clement Bartel dragged her behind Sam’s Livery and deliv
ered her a few blows. She said he mumbled something about paying her back for the way you’d hit him in the schoolhouse.”

  “Why that…” Ben sauntered to the door, his purpose revived.

  “Where are you going, Ben?” Jon asked, placing Liza’s hand atop the blanket and standing.

  “Out to find that no-good piece of crud. Any coward who hits a woman to get back at a man isn’t worth a barrel of cow dung.”

  “Ben, wait a minute.”

  Jon bolted out the door behind Ben, leaving Liza with Emma.

  Ben started to climb aboard his rig when he realized Tanner was over at the livery. “Would you mind driving my rig home and checking on my kids a bit later? You can tie your horse to the back.”

  “Sure, but Ben, listen to reason. Let the sheriff handle this. He’s better equipped…”

  “I’m equipped,” Ben said, lifting his rifle out from under the floorboard and setting off across the street.

  “Ben, listen,” replied Jon, keeping step with him. “Just this morning I read from Proverbs that we are not to take matters of judgment into our own hands. ‘Say not, I will do so to him as he hath done to me: I will render to the man according to his work.’ Don’t you see it’s out of your hands? God will see that justice is done, if not in this world, then the next.”

  Ben paused to eyeball his friend. “And I mean to see that it happens in this world.”

  “It’s not your game to play, Ben.”

  Ben’s gut recoiled. “This is not a game.”

  “Look—I’ll go with you. How would that be?”

  Ben stopped midstride. “Stay with Liza for a while, Jon, and then drive my rig home.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Ben urged Tanner to take each turn in the road with care. Nightfall was always a challenge, even to an experienced rider, but the glow of a full moon and a sky stocked with stars made the jaunt easier. A quick stop at Will’s office had told Ben all he’d needed to know. The sheriff wasn’t in. And since he might need help in arresting Clement, Ben meant to be there for him.

  Halfway up the mountain, however, he ran into Will Murdock himself, alone.