Loving Liza Jane (31 page)

He and Jon had been friends for years, and the last thing Ben wanted was for a woman to come between them.

“Do all things without murmurings and disputings.”

If that verse from Philippians hadn’t been clear enough about what God expected of him, he was sure there were plenty more where that came from.

“You’ll have to lead Tanner over to that wooden bench so you can mount him without my help from now on,” Ben had told her on the third morning. “I won’t be out here most mornings.” In fact, he’d make it a point not to be.

She’d given him a strained look. “Of course. You have more important things to see to than—well, you’re very generous to allow me to borrow Tanner.”

“You’ll have your independence,” he’d reminded.

She’d nodded. “I’ll be safe on Tanner, and you won’t have to bother with driving me.”

“It was never a bother, Liza.”

“No, but—this is much better—for everyone.”

He’d taken a step back then to get the full view of her. She wore no riding pants, but her long skirts covered most of her legs, and her high-top boots took care of what they didn’t. Her hat covered her neatly pinned golden hair, a shame since now he knew how those locks looked when flowing freely in the wind. Her pink cheeks flushed at his perusal. “Well, I’ll be off, then,” she’d said, turning the already prancing stallion in the direction of town.

“I don’t need to tell you to be careful.”

“No, I suppose you don’t,” she’d said, turning to glance at him, but not really looking into his eyes.

“Well, Sam will be expecting Tanner at the livery,” he’d added, laying a hand to Tanner’s rump.

“Yes, and thank you again. I appreciate this.”

That marked the end to their conversation, as Miss Merriwether had by then kicked the stallion into a slow canter. As she did, her bonnet, tied under her chin, came loose from her head and flew behind her. No doubt, her hair would do the same.

***

November ushered in December, and with it came Kentucky’s first snowflakes. The children couldn’t contain their joy when they spied the silvery flecks.

“Miss Merriwether, can we get a closer look?” asked Lili, her big blue eyes round with hope and wonder.

But before Liza could nod her approval, the Hogsworth twins had already beaten a trail to the window closest to their desks. The rest of the class stood at the ready.

She laughed. “Take five minutes.”

You’d have thought she’d just announced the end to the school day the way the children leaped from their seats and headed for the tall windows on either side of the room. When they’d gotten their fill of looking out one window, they raced across the room to another, as if the flakes would fall any differently on the opposite side of the building.

Liza couldn’t help but catch their excitement as she nuzzled in between Eloise Brackett and Rosie Bartel to peer up at the snowy clouds emitting the frosty crystals. Placing an arm over both girls’ shoulders, Liza was alarmed to discover a large bump at the base of Rosie’s neck, just under her right ear. Her high collar did a good job of covering most of it, but when Liza’s arm had rested atop the child’s shoulder it had managed to pull away a bit of the material.

“Rosie, what happened to you?” she asked, bending to get a better look at the black-and-blue mark, alarmed at its protruding size.

The child’s hand went to the spot, then yanked her collar back in place. Her downcast eyes seemed filled with worry and torment. “’Twas nothin’,” she said, turning away and heading for her desk. The rest of the children talked in excited tones about the snow and barely noticed when their teacher took Rosie aside.

“Rosie, how did you get this mark?” She knelt beside the child’s desk when Rosie took her seat.

“I fell,” she muttered. “I fell off the porch and hit a big rock.”

Liza gasped. “Did your mother have Doctor Randolph look at it?”

She threw wide her eyes. “’Course not. We never go to the Doc. Mama says we’re too poor.”

“I’m sure the doctor would understand if your parents couldn’t pay immediately. Would you like us to walk over there during the lunch break?”

“No!” She seemed clear on that.

Liza leaned in closer. “Sweetie, is there anything you’re not telling me? How did you fall off the porch?”

“I tripped. Clement says I’m very clumsy.”

“Clement?”

At that, Rosie curled her lips under and pinched them tight together, an indication that she’d already said more than she intended. Hands folded at her desk, she stared straight ahead, as if to study the origin of some speck on the wall.

Liza watched closely, not wanting to push, but concerned for the child’s safety. “Rosie, did Clement have anything to do with your falling off the porch?”

“I tried to help Mama,” she said, her voice so low that Liza had to put her ear up close to the little girl’s mouth to hear. “Clement was beatin’ on her. Clement got fierce mad and comed runnin’ after me. He told me to…I can’t say the word, Miss Merriwether, ’cause it was bad,” she said, her large eyes turning toward Liza and filling with tears. “That’s when he pushed—I fell off the porch.”

Liza wrapped an arm around the child and drew her close, her own stomach whirling and churning. After a minute she asked, “Is your mother all right?”

Rosie nodded in slow motion. “She fixed my breakfast this mornin’, but she had to be careful not to move too fast.”

“Where was your father—during…?” She knew she was asking questions that the sheriff should be asking, but it worried her that Rosie might not share the same information with Will Murdock.

“Out in the fields. He was cuttin’ hay.”

“I see.” Liza sat back on her heels and pondered her next words. “Did your mother tell your father?”

Rosie accompanied her nod with a faraway look. “Papa can’t do nothin’ ’cause Clement’s bigger ’n him.”

Suddenly, Liza knew what she had to do. “After school I am going to visit the sheriff.” Rosie’s boulder-sized eyes filled with fright. “You are not to worry, do you understand? Everything will be just fine. The sheriff will know what to do. In the meantime, I want you to do everything in your power to avoid your brother.”

“He ain’t my brother,” Rosie said, crossing her arms in front of her.

At the close of the school day, Liza strode down Main Street with a great sense of purpose, taking care to wave at folks along the way, but failing to stop and chat as some might have liked. She hoped they would suppose her brusqueness was due to the uncommon cold and not lack of kindliness. Regardless, she hadn’t the time to worry what folks thought. She had devised a plan of sorts, and the sooner she got to it the better.

Dear Lord, don’t let me race ahead of You. If this plan comes from You, may it work accordingly. And if it’s not, then please turn my thoughts elsewhere.

“I will instruct thee and teach thee in the way which thou shalt go: I will guide thee with mine eye.”

Thank you for that blessed reminder from the Psalms, Father.

After a satisfying visit with Sheriff Murdock, in which he’d promised to haul Clement in for questioning, Liza hurried her steps toward her next desired stop.

Rounding the bend on Main Street, she turned down one of Little Hickman’s few cross streets, Washington Avenue. She laughed at the rather formal title and wondered if it hadn’t been Mrs. Winthrop herself who had named it. Somehow, a narrow gravel road seemed hardly worthy to carry a fancy word like avenue behind its name.

Each house along Washington had its own character. Simply built, the tall clapboard structures boasted front porches, albeit warped in most cases, and narrow paths leading from the houses to the street. An assortment of mostly withered plants and shrubs hugged the fronts and sides of each house, a reminder of days gone by when they’d flourished in the warmth of the sun.

The grandest house on the street stood out from the others, its white, two-story structure, green-shuttered windows, and covered front porch with four massive columns seeming to beckon passersby. Nothing warped in those fine boards, Liza mused. She gawked for several minutes at its stately presence before she set off up the heavily trampled pathway toward the porch.

Large pots of still blooming chrysanthemums situated on either side of the wide staircase added color to the otherwise overcast day, as if to lend strength and support as she climbed the freshly painted steps. A white wicker couch with matching rocker and side table adorned the far side of the porch. Had she not known the woman inside, she might have felt welcomed enough to sit a spell and drink up the simplistic beauty.

At the front door, Liza sucked in a breath, whispered a prayer for courage and the proper words, and lifted a gloved hand to knock on the enormous front door. Hurried steps inside produced more jitters within her.

She recognized Clyde Winthrop as soon as he flung wide the door. He’d always been more than friendly to her whenever she’d visited Winthrop’s Dry Goods. Small boned and sporting a mostly bald head, his unsubstantial appearance gave way to his friendly smile, making his otherwise frail exterior seem inconsequential. Even now, his smile seemed to stretch from cheek to cheek.

“Well, if it isn’t Miss Merriwether. Iris, come quick; it’s the teacher,” he called toward the back of the house. “Won’t you come in?”

He ushered her into the parlor, where imported furniture of the finest quality filled the room. Velvet draperies covered the front and side windows, and a finely woven European rug lay atop the shiny wood flooring.

Mr. Winthrop pointed her to a chair where she was about to sit when the lady of the house flitted in.

“Well, my goodness…” was about all Mrs. Winthrop could offer by way of a greeting.

Liza stifled a giggle, turning it into a puny cough instead. “Hello, Mrs. Winthrop. Mr. Winthrop. I hope I’m not intruding on your supper, but I promise you I shall only be a minute.”

“Not at all. Please, sit.” Mr. Winthrop pointed her to the chair again, while his wife, tongue-tied, remained frozen in place. Apparently, she’d been recalling her last encounter with the teacher and marveling at the fact the young lady even had the nerve to show up on her doorstep.

“What can we do for you?” Clyde Winthrop asked, taking up a chair across from Liza while ignoring his still standing wife.

Liza folded her hands and put them in her lap, lifting yet another silent prayer heavenward. “Well, I would like to present you with a proposition.”

What sort of proposition?” Mrs. Winthrop guided herself to a chair and dropped into its softness.

“I was wondering if you might be open to, well, allowing someone to live with you—for a time, that is.”

“What?” Mrs. Winthrop bristled where she sat, her pointed chin jutting out.

“It’s a woman and her daughter,” Liza said, hurrying to get the words out before they both put her out of the house. “They are suffering untold abuse at the hands of a cruel young man, and they have nowhere else to go. At first, I thought to invite them to my own cabin, but then I realized my place is far too small.” Neither spoke a word, so she hastily carried on. “It won’t be forever, mind you, just until the sheriff can work through the details of the…”

“The sheriff?” Mrs. Winthrop shrieked. “Now see here, young lady, I…”

“Iris!” The little man’s sudden outburst shut the woman up on the spot, making Liza wonder how many times he’d had to resort to that particular tone. Not many, by Iris Winthrop’s stunned expression. “Let Miss Merriwether continue. I would very much like to hear about these people in dire need of help.”

Liza proceeded to tell them about her student, filling them in on every detail but the child’s name, until Mr. Winthrop choked with tears and even Mrs. Winthrop showed a measure of emotion.

“Sheriff Murdock agrees that they should not continue living in the same house with their offender, and when I suggested I might ask you to house them temporarily, he thought it was a fine idea.”

“He did, did he?” Mrs. Winthrop said, giving a little sniff.

“Yes, he pointed out that you do have the biggest and finest house in the entire town and surrounding area, and that since you have never had children of your own, perhaps you would enjoy having a little girl around.”

To that, Mr. Winthrop’s eyes clouded even more. He turned to face his wife.

“Well, I think the situation is one that warrants little consideration on our part. We have plenty of room and resources by which to offer our assistance.”

“Clyde.” His wife’s panicked tone would have stopped any other man, but perhaps this man was so accustomed to his wife’s rantings that he’d learned to pay them little heed.

“Iris, we have the three extra bedrooms upstairs. They are all fully furnished and well equipped. The bedding needs shaking and the furniture dusting for lack of use, but there is no reason why we should decline this very sensible suggestion.”

“Well, I…who are these people?” Mrs. Winthrop suddenly asked.

It was the question Liza had been waiting for. If Mrs. Winthrop were even half unconvinced, the revelation of their names would wipe away all Liza’s hopes. Was this where she should prepare herself for a fast exit?

“It’s—Rosie Bartel and her mother.”

“What?” Mrs. Winthrop squealed, standing to her feet. “You expect us to take in those—those unfortunate hill people?”

Mr. Winthrop allowed his wife her minute’s worth of fury, and then he calmly said, “It matters little to us where these folks hail from, Miss Merriwether. The important thing is that they arrive at a place of safety.”

Liza sighed with relief that she’d at least managed to bring Mr. Winthrop over to her side.

“Clyde.” The woman’s voice had dropped considerably, perhaps from shock.

“Now, how shall we go about making the arrangements?” the kindly man asked, approaching Liza and offering her his arm.

Taken aback, Liza stood to her feet and followed his lead to the door. “I believe Sheriff Murdock will be in touch with you. He intends to pay the family a visit tonight or early tomorrow morning. I suppose you could expect them as early as tomorrow. This is providing that Mrs. Bartel even agrees to leave.”