Suddenly A Frontier Father

* * *

A few days later, in the evening at the Brants’, the fragrance of the rabbit stew set before Mason literally caused him to salivate. He bowed his head politely while Asa offered the prayer over the meal. Hearing another man pray heightened the feeling of stone encasing his own heart. Maybe God hadn’t deserted him but it sure felt like it. Then he scolded himself. Years ago he’d lost his mother, and months ago his father, but he’d gained a sister and Birdie. He resisted a thought about also losing Emma.

“I caught the rabbits,” Colton spoke up. “I used my snares.”

For the hundredth time or more Mason found himself glancing at the door. He tried not to but he always looked for Emma to join them. He turned his mind from this. “Well done, Colton,” Mason replied, recalling his boyhood days. Then another worry intruded. How could he bring up the unpleasant conversation about Asa’s destroyed corn and hay crops? He’d tried twice now but Asa had changed the subject both times.

Birdie and Charlotte sat on the bench beside him. He could tell Birdie wanted to talk to Lily, but the little girl rarely looked at them. Pain twisted in his chest over this. Birdie had wanted to go to school with Colton each day but he had kept the girls home. Why did people judge others on things like skin color and deafness?

“I’m glad you agreed to eat supper with us till your ankle is healed,” Asa’s wife, sitting on the opposite side of the table, said. “How is it doing? Did the goose grease help?”

At her words, Mason’s ankle throbbed as if taunting him with his weakness. “Yes, it helped. My ankle’s still swollen some, but it’s improving.”

“It will be all better soon.” Judith forked up a bite of stew.

“I thank you for your hospitality and for Colton’s help,” he said, grateful, knowing that his girls needed more food than he would be able to rustle up while standing on a crutch by the fire. He decided this was the opening he’d been waiting for. “And Asa, you’ve not let me discuss your planting my crops—”

“I didn’t plant your full crops—”

“You did more than I would ever have expected. And I’m going to share my corn and hay with you. I think—”

Asa tried to interrupt.

Mason forged onward. “I think that if we are careful, we’ll have almost enough to make it through the winter and put away some seed for next spring. It will be tight, but we can make it.”

“I didn’t put it in for that reason.” Asa still sounded put out.

“I know, but it’s a blessing—for both of us—that you did.”

“Asa,” Judith said, resting a hand on her husband’s sleeve, “Mason is speaking the truth. What you have done for a friend has come back to bless all of us.”

The woman’s mention of blessing hit Mason squarely in the heart, the heart that had suffered and been stretched this year. “And when November comes,” he spoke up, banishing these thoughts, “you’ll have to permit me to bring you some fresh meat, Mrs. Brant.” He savored the rich gravy, rolling it on his tongue.

“I’m also looking forward to fall hunting,” Asa commented. “But now’s a good time to start geese, grouse and duck.”

Asa and Mason discussed hunting for a while. Birdie was busy signing to Charlotte. Mason often wondered what went on in his little sister’s head. He must work harder at learning to talk to her with his hands. “Thank you again, Mrs. Brant,” he murmured.

She merely smiled at him. Again, Mason was very aware of the change just a few months of marriage had wrought in his friend. Almost three years ago, when Mason had first arrived in Pepin and found Asa as his neighbor, he’d liked Asa right away. But since they’d last met, Asa had changed, and for the better. Asa now smiled and talked easily, appeared to be more at peace. Mason couldn’t stop himself from once again wishing he’d been here in March to meet his mail-order bride. Well, life was what it was.

* * *

On Friday afternoon, Mason was in his barn, unhitching the team he’d just reclaimed and fetched from Levi’s place outside town to the northeast. He’d left his girls with Asa’s wife and rode one of Asa’s horses to Levi’s. His ankle still pained him. He limped but he’d left off the crutch today.

He turned, startled when he heard his name being called. “Miss Jones.” Nearly a week had passed since he’d seen her. He drank in the sight of her like a thirsty man finding water in the desert. He stiffened himself. Don’t embarrass yourself. “What can I do for you?”

“I’m glad to see you are walking without your crutch,” she said, not replying to his question.

Birdie with Charlotte hurried away from the head of one of the horses toward her. “Miss Emma!” Birdie greeted her.

“Hello.” Emma bent to talk to them. “Girls, I would like to have a few words in private with Mr. Chandler. Could you go play? I’ll talk to you before I leave.”

Birdie looked thoughtful but drew Charlotte outside, signing to her.

Mason didn’t have to think about why this lady had come. Colton had repeatedly told him that Miss Jones wanted the girls in school. He gritted his teeth. Evidently Emma was a woman to be reckoned with. His irritation over this vied with his unwelcome pleasure at seeing her here, so fine and determined. “I can guess why you’ve come. But I wasn’t ready to send them to school yet.” He focused on working free the horses’ harness buckles.

“Your girls are ready. Do you think you are helping them, keeping them out?”

“I’m keeping them from being hurt. Children can be cruel,” he said, just short of snapping at her.

“And adults can be. Do you think keeping them out protects them from hurt? Don’t you realize that keeping them home is hurting them, too?”

“I can teach them their letters and numbers.”

“That’s not what I mean.” She moved closer and paused, resting a hand on the rump of the nearest chestnut horse. “Isolating them is telling them that you don’t think they can handle school. That they are lesser than the other children.”

Her words cut through him like a serrated knife, a dull one that rasped painfully. He stepped back, releasing the last buckle, and led one horse toward a stall. Her accusation bounced around in his head.

From the corner of his eye, he glimpsed her standing backlit by the sunshine. She brought to mind a picture he’d seen as a child in a book. It had been the image of an avenging angel protecting the innocent. Miss Emma Jones did not take matters having to do with children lightly.

“Are you ashamed of Birdie and Charlotte?” she snapped.

“No,” he snapped back. “They are wonderful little girls.”

“Then bring them to school Monday.” She turned as if to leave. “Have some trust in me, trust in the children of this town.”

She left him without a word to say.

He moved to the open barn door but remained out of sight. He wanted to hear what she said to the girls.

“Birdie! Charlotte!” she called in a friendly voice.

The girls ran to her, Birdie beaming and Charlotte cautious, holding Birdie’s hand. “Can you play with us?”

“Just a bit. How about ‘Ring around the Rosy’?” Emma joined hands with the girls and they moved in a circle, singing and, at the right moment, all falling or, rather, stooping down.

“I must go now. I’m sure I’ll see you Sunday at church.” And without a glance toward the barn, she called out, “See you Monday at school. Nine o’clock! Don’t be late!”

He watched her go, unable to look away until she disappeared around the thickly forested bend.

The girls ran to him. “Did the lady teacher say we could come to school?” Birdie asked.

He looked down into Birdie’s eager face. So many thoughts and emotions swirled in his mind and heart. “Do you want to go to school?”

“Yes!” Birdie signed to Charlotte. “She says yes too. We can see Lily and Colton. And meet other children.”

He wondered if Birdie was capable of grasping the concept of prejudice.

“Some children will like us and some won’t,” Birdie said, answering his unspoken question. “But we want to go to school.”