When harvest came, he’d be busy in the fields. Just a few more weeks and the corn might be dry enough to pick. The worrying thought of his friend Asa’s crop being destroyed unfurled in his mind. Would his fields, and what was left of Asa’s, feed the two families with four children for the winter? He hoped so.
Almost to Asa’s clearing, Mason glimpsed the children Asa had taken in. He still hadn’t heard the story of how that had come about.
The children were coming toward them. Not away toward school.
“Morning!” Colton called out. “We were coming to walk your girls to school!” Lily still seemed hesitant, but she did look at his girls and sort of smiled.
Mason wondered at the children coming for his girls. Had Emma instigated this? He wouldn’t put it past her. But he didn’t want to question the children. And Birdie, along with Charlotte, was already running to meet the brother and sister.
Colton drifted over to walk beside Mason. “Mr. and Mrs. Brant said it was time we walked your girls to school,” Colton said in an undertone, supplying the answer to Mason’s unspoken question.
Mason paused and wondered if he should just let the children go on alone.
Then Charlotte broke away from Birdie and claimed his hand, pulling him to come along.
He obeyed.
Birdie and Lily talked on and off as if searching for common ground. Birdie kept her hands busy, including Charlotte in the conversation.
“How did you learn to talk with your fingers?” Lily asked Birdie, appearing fascinated.
“A lady come to the orphanage and taught me and Charlotte. It’s easy. See? This is hello.” Birdie demonstrated the simple motion.
Lily tried to mimic it.
“That’s pretty good for your first try,” Birdie approved.
Charlotte signed back at Lily, who tried to imitate it again.
In a low voice, Colton told Mason, “Don’t worry. I won’t let anybody pick on your girls.”
The words warmed Mason toward this solemn boy who had helped him when he was laid up. “Thank you.”
Colton merely nodded, looking determined.
In a way, this promise was reassuring and in another way, worrying. This young lad expected Mason’s girls to be targets of trouble. But the five of them were heading to school this morning, come what may. Miss Emma and the girls were determined about school.
* * *
Wondering if Mason Chandler would bring Birdie and Charlotte today, Emma pulled the school bell rope, sounding the signal, and then stepped to the doorway to greet her pupils as usual. And as usual, the children began to run toward her.
Then she glimpsed Mason. Her heart somersaulted. He stood tall and imposing with his jaw set. His hat sat forward, hiding much of his face from her. Whatever his feelings, he’d brought Birdie and Charlotte. Emma began praying silently for the girls and their acceptance here today.
The youngest to the oldest, the children had formed a line in front of the school door. The boys wore flannel shirts, suspenders and dark pants, and the girls wore white pinafores over dresses that ended a few inches above their ankles. “Good morning, students!”
“Good morning, Miss Jones!” the children replied nearly in unison.
Mason with his two girls stood at the rear. The fact that he was trying to hide his concern caused Emma to like him one little bit more. So many parents communicated fear and engendered it in their children, sometimes needlessly. She’d observed that happen this spring when a traveling doctor had come to town and held a clinic. His mission was to vaccinate as many children on the frontier as possible to prevent smallpox. The children whose parents feared the procedure had made the experience more difficult for their children.
Now some of the students were glancing over their shoulders at the trio at the end of the line. Emma ignored this, following her usual routine of greeting each child by name. Finally Mason, his hat in hand, stood before her.
“Mr. Chandler, so glad to see your girls ready to start school.” She motioned toward the classroom behind her. “Good morning, Birdie, Charlotte. Since this is your first year in school, please go and sit on the front bench beside Lily.”
“Yes, miss!” Birdie crowed and nearly skipped inside, holding Charlotte’s hand and drawing her along.
Mason stared into Emma’s eyes. She noted he was gripping his hat, nearly bending the brim.
“I’ll bid you good day.” Emma stepped back.
“I forgot to pack them lunches,” he said. “I didn’t think.”
“That won’t be a problem. I’ll see to their lunch today.”
The man mangled his hat a bit longer. Then he straightened it and put it back on his head. “Thank you, Miss Jones.” He strode away, his long legs stretching over the wild grass.
Though an unreasonable part of her wanted to detain him, Emma turned and prepared herself to face this new challenge. Her students were good children. Some had been orphaned just like Mason’s girls. Some had come from the South like the sheriff’s son, Jacque Merriday, and some from the East. Eight years after the devastating Civil War, the tensions in the South continued. It seemed like the war would never stop hurting them, all of them.
She walked briskly down the center aisle to stand at the front of the schoolroom. Today Birdie and Charlotte would become welcome members of her school or she would know the reason why.
At the front of the room, she turned and faced the class. “Children, please rise for the morning prayer.” Emma read a psalm of David and prayed for a good day of study at school. Then the children sat back down on their benches. Many were eyeing the new girls.
Emma took a deep breath, praying silently for wisdom. “As all of you can see, we have added two new students today, Birdie and Charlotte, who have been adopted by Mr. Chandler. I hope you will make them feel welcome.”
Johann Lang held up his hand. “Miss Jones, I spoke German when I first came here and had to learn English. How can we make the girl who can’t hear welcome if we don’t know how to talk to her?”
Birdie bounced up and, following Johann’s example, raised her hand. “I know how, Miss Jones.”
Emma had thought she would be the one leading this discussion, but perhaps it would be better if the ideas came from the children. “Yes, Birdie, what do you have to suggest?”
“On the way here, Lily—” Birdie gestured toward the little girl sitting farther down the same row “—learned how to say hello with her hands. I can teach the other children, too.”
“Thank you, Birdie. You may be seated.” Emma looked over her students. “I think that might be a very good idea.” How to phrase it? She smiled inwardly. A challenge? “How many of you think you are capable of learning to speak with your hands?”
Jacque, the sheriff’s son, raised his hand, as did many others, though some students looked hesitant.
“Jacque, you’d like to learn it?”
“Yes, miss, I think it would be fun and I like to know how to do things. Can she, the black girl, show us how to do that sign?”
“Birdie, will you come up and teach us how to say hello to Charlotte? I will sit in your place because I will be the student, too.”
This announcement caused a hubbub of murmurs from her students. But Emma passed Birdie, who was nearly skipping to where Emma had been standing.
Birdie beamed one of her contagious smiles. “I was already livin’ at the orphans’ home when Charlotte come to live