Through the Deep Waters (26 page)

Dinah nearly leaped out of her skin at Ruthie’s curt command. The others’ remarks and laughter abruptly stopped.

With her hands balled into fists, Ruthie glared at the other girls. “You should all be ashamed of yourselves, disparaging Mr. Ackerman for something over which he has no control. Would you want to be teased for your freckles, Minnie? Or for the gap between your front teeth, Amelia?”

Bright red flooded Minnie’s face, masking the tiny dots of pale brown that
marched from her forehead to her chin. Amelia sucked in her lips and ducked her head. Both Lyla and Matilda shrank back as if fearful of what Ruthie might say about them.

Ruthie went on, speaking so harshly Dinah cringed. “You are criticizing him for being a hard worker, for making an honest living! And you’re poking fun at his misfortune, which I find particularly disturbing. Mr. Ackerman is exactly the kind of man every girl should desire for a beau. He is respectful, industrious, and possesses strong faith in God. Mr. Ackerman has done nothing to earn your disdain. Every one of you should ask God to forgive you for your unkindness. And then you should tell Dinah you’re sorry for being so rude to her.”

Minnie, Amelia, and Matilda continued to stare at Ruthie in silence, but Lyla released a light, self-conscious giggle. “My, my, Ruthie. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were smitten with the chicken farmer.”

Pink splashed Ruthie’s cheeks. “So what if I am? As I said, there is much to admire about Mr. Ackerman. And if he had asked me to the Calico Ball, I … I would have proudly accepted his invitation, just as Dinah has done.” She shifted slightly to cast a regret-filled look on Dinah. “If I’d known how they were going to react, I wouldn’t have mentioned the invitation you received. Everything they said was out of jealous spite.” Ruthie paused, nibbling her lower lip. “And I suppose I told them because I was jealous, too. I hope you will forgive me, Dinah.”

The others all muttered apologies, although with less sincerity than Ruthie. Then Matilda sent a sheepish look across the other girls. “You know, Mr. Ackerman is handsome.”

“He has very broad shoulders,” Minnie said, fluttering her lashes, “and strong hands. I like a man who has strong hands.”

Lyla and Amelia added their praises as Dean brought the buggy to a stop outside the hotel’s doors. The girls continued jabbering while they departed the buggy and darted for the porch.

Dinah and Ruthie climbed out last, and Ruthie looped arms with Dinah as they ambled up the walkway. “Please don’t let what the others said bother
you, Dinah.” Ruthie released a deep sigh. “They want to go to the ball, too, and since they know they can’t, they feel the need to ridicule the event and those who are attending.”

Dinah gently removed her arm from Ruthie’s grasp. “Why should I care what the others think?” She forced a glib tone, although her lips quivered with her smile. “I’m going to the ball.” Just like Cinderella in the storybook. She didn’t care a whit if her prince limped.

“Good for you.” Ruthie flashed a quick yet somehow sad-looking smile. “We’d better get busy.” She darted off.

Dinah headed up the hallway to begin her duties, but she didn’t hurry as Ruthie did. Troubling thoughts plagued her despite her effort to set them aside. The girls’ praises for Mr. Ackerman had only come after Ruthie proclaimed her interest in him. In the others’ eyes, he hadn’t been worthy of affection until Ruthie had deemed him so.

The realization stung. Her opinion didn’t matter. Nor did her feelings. Not to the servers. Just as she’d never really mattered to her mother or to her schoolmates or her teacher or Miss Flo … She took the feather duster from her basket of cleaning supplies and gave a vicious swipe across the surface of the room’s dressing table. Tiny particles sailed through the yellow beam from the wall’s gaslight and rained downward in a silvery explosion.

She met her gaze in the mirror, assumed a firm expression, and pointed at her reflection with the splayed feathers on the duster. “But you matter to Mr. Ackerman.” Warmth flowed from her head to her toes, and tears pricked her eyes. “You must matter because he invited you to the Calico Ball. So think of him instead of everyone else.”

As she set to work again, she inwardly listed the reasons why Mr. Ackerman was a worthwhile prospect. Handsome. Strong. Hardworking. Honest. And, as Ruthie had said, he was a godly man. Dinah knew very little about God, but if God loved her the way Ruthie claimed and if Mr. Ackerman was a godly man, then she trusted him not to hurt her. She didn’t understand why she knew this, but from the very center of her being, she believed she could trust Mr. Ackerman.

“He will be my prince …” One warm tear rolled down her cheek, tickling her as it trailed to her chin. With the belief came a lightness in her chest that tempted her feet to give vent to the happiness inside. Extending her hands, still with the feather duster in her grip, she twirled on one toe in the middle of the room. She ended her spontaneous pirouette with a giggle that doubled her over. Was this how it felt to be smitten? Oh, if it were, it was a glorious thing. She positioned herself for another swirl.

“Miss Hubley, I would like a word with you.” The manager’s stern voice carried from the open doorway.

Dinah froze for the beat of three seconds with her hands outstretched and the toe of her shoe planted against the plush carpet. Then she quickly dropped the carefree pose and turned to face the unsmiling man. “Y-yes, Mr. Irwin.” She scurried toward the door, her stomach quaking.

Amos

“Yes, Sheriff.” Amos heard himself speak calmly and wondered how he managed, considering how his insides were flopping like a trout on a creek bank. When the sheriff had ridden up the lane, Amos had expected a casual greeting. Who’d have thought the long-awaited telegram would arrive on the Lord’s day? “Tomorrow morning, I’ll bring Cale to your office. Thank you for letting him spend this last night with me so we can …” A lump filled his throat, and he couldn’t finish his sentence.

The sheriff nodded, his face creasing into a sympathetic grimace. “I know you’ve grown fond of the boy, but I have to agree with the preacher in New York. Boys, especially ones as young as Cale, need raising by both a ma and a pa.”

Amos knew the sheriff was right, but it didn’t make saying good-bye any easier. “Do you know where he’ll be living?”

“The city preacher—name of Reverend Silas Joiner—gave me responsibility for finding a home for the boy.” The sheriff scratched his head. “That’s a
little outside my usual duties, so I asked Preacher Mead to locate a family. Soon as I know, I’ll be sure and tell you. Maybe you can visit him from time to time if he ends up close enough to Florence.”

The thought cheered Amos somewhat. He bade the sheriff farewell, then waited until the man swung himself onto his saddle and aimed his horse for the road. Then Amos scuffed out to the patch of ground behind the barn where Cale had taken the pups to play. He leaned against the sturdy barn wall and watched the three of them for a few minutes, smiling.

Cale had taken it upon himself to teach the pair of puppies to perform tricks like a street vendor’s dog in New York. Amos didn’t see much sense in dogs rolling over, shaking hands, or sitting up on their back legs, but Cale seemed to think it a fine thing, and it wouldn’t do Sam and Gid any harm. Maybe he’d keep working with the dogs after Cale left, just so they might remember the boy. He’d never forget Cale—that was certain.

His heart heavy, Amos took a forward step. “Cale?”

The boy paused with one hand stretched over Gideon’s nose and the other holding Samson by the ruff. His face lit up. “Hey, Uncle Amos, watch this!” He turned a serious look on Gideon. “Stand. Stand, Gid.” He bounced his hand, and Gideon rose up on his haunches and nosed Cale’s palm. He scratched Gid’s ears, grinning broadly. “Good dog!” He aimed his grin at Amos. “Did’ja see it? He stood up, just like I wanted him to!”

Amos thought the pup had just lunged upward to see if Cale had anything of worth in his hand, but he chose not to discourage the boy. “Yes, I saw. Now bring Sam and Gid to the house. I need to talk to you.”

Cale’s expression went from happy to stubborn in the space of one pulse beat. “Why?”

Amos could be stubborn, too. “Because I asked you to. That’s reason enough.” He turned toward the house and took two plodding steps.

“If you’re plannin’ to send me away, I ain’t goin’.”

Amos paused but refused to turn around. Partly so the boy wouldn’t know he’d gotten Amos’s dander up, but mostly because saying good-bye was hard enough without having to look into Cale’s angry face. “Sam, Gid—come!”
Amos snapped his fingers. The pups raced to him. He set himself in motion again. “Come on to the house, Cale.”

Trusting the boy to follow, Amos crossed the yard and entered the house. He left the door open, but Samson and Gideon plopped down on an old rug he’d put on the porch and didn’t enter. They were smart dogs. And Cale was a smart boy. Eventually he’d come to understand Amos wasn’t sending him away out of meanness but because it was the best thing to do.

He’d barely settled himself at the table when Cale stepped over the threshold. He stood just inside the door, hands deep in his pockets and feet set wide apart, scowling. Amos pointed to the chair across from him. “Come on.”

Cale held out for a few seconds, working his jaw back and forth and squinting. But finally he let out a huff and stomped to the table. He flopped into the seat and threw one arm over the chair’s ladder back, as insolent as Amos had ever seen him. “All right. Whaddid you want?”

Amos frowned. “First of all, sit up and behave yourself. You’re too fine a boy to act so uncivil.”

In slow motion Cale brought his arm down from its floppy position and rested his linked hands on the edge of the table. Although he still held his lips in a sulky line, Amos decided to ignore it. This wasn’t easy for Cale, either.

“It’s time, Cale. The sheriff wants me to bring you to his office tomorrow. He and Preacher Mead will take you to your new home.”

Cale sat up ramrod straight. “Where?”

“He didn’t tell me. I’m not sure he knows yet. But Preacher Mead won’t give you over to someone who won’t take good care of you.” Amos found comfort in his words. He hoped Cale would be comforted, too. “You don’t need to worry.”

“But I don’t wanna go. I like it here. Like it better’n anyplace else I ever been.” A thread of panic wove its way through the boy’s tone. “An’ you need me! I help with the chickens. I help with Sam an’ Gid. You need me, Uncle Amos.”

Amos placed his big hand over Cale’s joined hands. His palm easily covered them. Cale was so young. So small. A wave of protectiveness swept over
him.
God, put him with a family who will love him and teach him Your ways
. “Somewhere, Cale, there’s a family who needs a boy like you. And you need them—a family with a father and a mother. That’s what every boy needs.”

Cale yanked his hands away. “So get me a mother. It ain’t gotta be that hard. People get married all the time. Timothy told me so—says his pa’s always speakin’ the words for folks. If you’d get married, then I could stay. You could be my pa.”

Pressure built in Amos’s chest. An intense, deep ache. If only his flock were bigger. Then he could afford to take a wife. Then he could keep Cale. Assuming, of course, his wife would want the boy, too. Somehow he sensed Dinah wouldn’t send Cale away. But the timing was all wrong.

He spoke gently. “The decision’s been made. It’s out of my hands. We have to do what the minister in New York says. So tomorrow you’re going to Preacher Mead and then on to your new home.”

Cale’s gaze narrowed, his eyes shooting darts of fury.

“We don’t have to like it.” Amos pulled in a big breath and let it go in a mighty whoosh. “But we still have to do it. Do you understand?”

Cale angled his face away from Amos. His jaw quivered. He muttered, the words emerging on a growl, “Sure, mister. I understand.”

Dinah

Dinah left Mr. Irwin’s office with his warnings ringing in her head. Someone must surely be very jealous to have run to him with the news of her invitation to the Calico Ball. But she would do everything Mr. Irwin said was necessary. She would finish her work before changing into her ball gown. At the ball she would conduct herself with the decorum expected of an employee of the hotel. And until the day of the ball, she would keep her attention on the tasks required of her rather than escaping into flights of whimsy.