Pearl

  “We take turns being It,” April said firmly. “Whoever is It has to tag the others. And no running beyond the tree, or past the schoolhouse. Whoever is tagged first has to be It next.”

  Soon the four were joined by the others in a rollicking game of tag.

  “Wouldn’t you like to join them, Gilbert?” Pearl asked.

  The boy stood alone beneath the tree, watching in silence.

  “No, ma’am.”

  “Then perhaps you’d help me.” She packed the remains of their lunch in the basket and handed it to him. “Come along.”

  The boy followed her into the cabin.

  “You can put the basket over there,” she said, indicating a spot in the corner of the room. “And then, if you wouldn’t mind, I could use a hand with some firewood. Though the sunlight is warm enough outside, there is a chill in here, don’t you think?”

  He shrugged. “I suppose.”

  He made his way to a pile of logs outside and returned carrying an armload that would have staggered some men.

  Pearl watched in astonishment as he lowered the logs to the floor and, with an economy of movement, began to toss several on the fire.

  When that was done, he stood watching her at her desk. When she looked up, she realized his gaze was centered on the little vase of wildflowers there.

  “I picked them on my way to school this morning,” she said. “They’re pretty, don’t you think?”

  He nodded. Moving closer, he touched a dirty hand to one tiny bloom. “My ma used to like wildflowers.”

  “I’ll bet you picked some for her,” Pearl said.

  His voice lowered, as though he were talking to himself. “They used to make her smile. Sometimes, when she was sad, they were the only things that would do it.” He looked up. “I still bring flowers to her grave sometimes.”

  Pearl touched his hand. “That’s nice. I visit my mother’s grave, too. And bring her flowers”

  At once he pulled back, as though offended by the touch of her. “What other chores do you want me to do?”

  She sighed. Whatever spell had come over him for a moment, it was broken now. His sullen pout returned, along with his characteristic anger. She would have to remember not to touch him. Maybe he feared that all grown-ups would hurt him as his father did.

  “Nothing else, Gilbert. You’ve been most helpful. Thank you.”

  She crossed the room and called out, “Time for class, children.”

  Within minutes, the boys and girls had returned to their desks and settled into their routine. But as Pearl worked, she had a sense that there was much more to Gilbert Ingram than the image he showed the world.

  Chapter Twelve

  “How many of you studied your spelling words?” Pearl asked.

  Most of the hands went up.

  “If you would line up in the front of the room, we’ll start our spelling bee.” Pearl turned to Daniel and Gilbert. “Since you boys weren’t here last week, I’ll excuse you. You may remain in your desks. But I’ll ask you to try to write the words on your slates, in order to see how many of them you know.”

  Pearl started off with simple words for the younger students, then moved gradually to more difficult words as the younger children were eliminated from the competition. Soon, only Birdie and Travis Worthing were left.

  “The word is honor,” Pearl said. “Travis?”

  The boy frowned. He knew it was one of those tricky words, but he just couldn’t picture it in his mind.

  “O-N-E-R, ” he said slowly, pausing at each letter.

  “I’m sorry. That isn’t correct.” Pearl turned to Birdie. “If you get this one, you’ll win our spelling bee, and win another chance to take the Bible home for the night.”

  The girl nervously chewed on her lip. How she would love to bring home the Bible again, and see that light in her mother’s eyes. But she was hopelessly lost on this word.

  As she twisted her hands together, she glanced across the room and saw Gilbert Ingram turn his slate so that she could read what he had written.

  “H-O-N-O-R.” She mouthed the letters without even being aware of what she’d said.

  “That’s correct.” Pearl was delighted. “I didn’t expect any of you to know that the H is silent in this word. Congratulations, Birdie. You’ve just won our spelling bee, and the chance to take home . . .”

  Birdie was vehemently shaking her head. “I can’t do that, Miss Jewel. I didn’t win.”

  “But you did.”

  “No, ma’am. I didn’t have any idea how to spell it. It was Gilbert. He knew the word and showed me on his slate.”

  Surprised, Pearl said, “Gilbert, would you please bring your slate up here.”

  The boy did as he was told.

  As he stood beside Birdie, he whispered, “Why’d you tell? I did it for you, so you’d be able to win.”

  “But I don’t want to win that way,” she said softly. “It isn’t fair.”

  “But winning’s important to you. And I just wanted to pay you back for letting me sit next to you today.”

  “You don’t have to pay me back, Gilbert. I don’t mind sitting next to you. Really I don’t,” she insisted. “In fact, I. . . liked it.”

  Pearl overheard their whispered conversation as she checked the list of words. Amazingly, Gilbert had spelled every one correctly. Her mind raced as she fretted about how to handle this.

  “Do you know the meaning of this word, Gilbert?” she asked softly.

  He shrugged. “Honesty, I guess. Respect.”

  “You wouldn’t know about that!” Amos Durfee shouted. “You may be able to spell it, but you’ll never have it!”

  Pearl shot the boy a look that silenced him. Then she turned to Gilbert.

  “All of us can find ways to practice this word in our daily lives. Birdie just showed us the finest example of honor. Taking home the Bible meant a lot to her. But her honor, her integrity, meant more. And she knew that she hadn’t earned the right to the prize. She could have chosen to say nothing. No one would have been the wiser. But she chose the nobler path, and admitted the truth.”

  “But she didn’t do anything wrong,” Gilbert argued. “I was the one who cheated.”

  “Answer me this, Gilbert,” Pearl said gently. “If a man steals, and then sells his stolen goods to one who knows they were stolen, aren’t both men guilty?”

  When he said nothing, she said, “By allowing you to help her win, Birdie knew that she was guilty of cheating, also.”

  “I would never do anything to hurt Birdie. I just wanted to help her,” he protested. “As for me—” he hung his head “—it doesn’t matter. Everybody knows what I am.”

  “What you are,” Pearl said, catching him by the chin and forcing him to look up into her eyes, “is a fine young person who wanted to help a friend. And that is admirable. But the finest gift you can give yourself, and your friend, is honor. Our honor, our good name,” she said, allowing her gaze to move over each student for emphasis, “is our most precious possession. Be very careful not to ruin a man’s name by idle gossip. Or the same might happen to you one day.”

  Amos Durfee flushed and looked away. Several of the other students did the same.

  “Now,” Pearl asked, “what am I to do with the prize?”

  “Why not give it to Gilbert?” Birdie pleaded. “You said he got every word right.”

  “So he did.” Pearl held out the Bible. “I believe you just won our spelling bee, Gilbert.”

  The boy looked dumbstruck. “I—I’ve never won anything before.”

  “Would you like to take home the Bible? You could read it tonight to your little brother and your father.”

  At the mention of his father, Gilbert’s smile faltered. “I—don’t think I’d better do that.”

  Pearl placed the book in his hand. “It’s your prize, Gilbert, to do with as you please. Just see that it’s returned in the morning.”

  She turned away. “Now, class, we’ll have a final r
eading before it’s time for dismissal.”

  Gilbert walked to his desk beside a beaming Birdie. And for the first time anyone could remember, he managed a half smile before turning his head away.

  “Remember to study your new list of spelling words,” Pearl called as her students climbed aboard Travis Worthing’s wagon and headed home.

  “We will. Goodbye, Miss Jewel,” Birdie called. Her gaze slid from her teacher to the tall boy who stood framed in the doorway of the school. She waved.

  Though Gilbert didn’t return the wave, his eyes betrayed him, watching avidly until the wagon dipped out of sight beneath a ridge.

  “I’m sorry you have to stay on our account,” he said as Pearl returned to her desk.

  “I don’t mind. I often stay late to prepare for tomorrow’s lessons.” She began to stack the children’s slates for cleaning. Glancing up, she said, “Would you boys care to help me?”

  “Yes’m,” Daniel replied with an air of excitement. He would do just about anything to please this pretty woman who reminded him of a princess.

  Pearl handed him a rag and the pile of slates and said, “Why don’t you take these outside and wipe them clean? Then you can return one to each desk.”

  The little boy accepted them eagerly.

  “Gilbert,” she said, “you can toss out that bucket of water. I’ll fill it with fresh water from the creek in the morning. And then, if you don’t mind, I could use another pile of logs for the morning fire.”

  He picked up the bucket and headed outside.

  Within minutes, Daniel was back.

  “I’m all done, Miss Jewel.” The little boy placed the last slate on a desktop and made his way to her desk.

  “So am I,” Gilbert announced, turning away from the wood he’d piled neatly beside the fireplace.

  Pearl couldn’t help smiling at their efficiency. It was obvious that they found these chores simple compared with those they were called upon to do at home.

  “Now you’ve earned the right to do something that pleases you.” She glanced around. “You may explore the school, if you’d like. Or go fishing down by the creek.”

  Daniel glanced toward the crude ladder leaning against the far wall. “Is it all right if we explore the loft, Miss Jewel?”

  She nodded. “I don’t mind. In fact, I’ll go with you.”

  She followed the boys up the ladder and knelt in the straw.

  “What’s this?” Daniel asked as he lifted the buffalo robe.

  “A remnant of my father’s early years here in Hanging Tree. This little cabin was his first home.”

  “Your pa lived here?” Gilbert stared around at the crudely built cabin. “I thought he was born in that big house.”

  She laughed at the surprised look on his face. “I guess that’s what a lot of children think. But my father was just a poor, struggling cowboy with a dream. He wasn’t much older than you, Gilbert, when he started carving out a life for himself, here in the wildearness.” She looked around the tiny loft and said, “I wonder what things he had to face all alone out here.”

  “Indians, I’ll bet,” Daniel said.

  “And outlaws,” Gilbert added.

  “Not to mention loneliness and fear and hunger,” Pearl mused. “Visiting this place gives me a new appreciation for all my father went through in his lifetime.”

  She made her way to the ladder. “You boys stay up here as long as you like. I still have a few things to do at my desk.”

  As she worked on her lessons, Pearl could hear the sounds of whispering coming from the loft. It was pleasant, she thought, to hear the sounds of life in this cabin. Of all her father’s dreams, that would have been his fondest. To find a woman to share all this, and fill their home with children.

  But the dream had been shattered when his young wife died after the birth of their firstborn, Diamond. And though he loved other women who bore him children, he had died before his family could be united.

  How it must have pained Onyx Jewel to know that he was unable to persuade any of the women he loved to share this life. What bittersweet irony that now, after his death, his daughters had come together to share what they had never shared during his lifetime.

  Absorbed in her thoughts, she didn’t hear the approach of the horse and wagon. When the door was thrown open, her head came up sharply.

  “Mr. Ingram. You caught me by surprise.”

  “Mr. Ingram.” He smiled, showing tobacco-stained teeth. “I like that, teacher. It shows the proper respect.” He seemed highly agitated, and he reeked of whiskey. His gaze swept the room. “Where are my boys?”

  “Up here, Pa,” came Daniel’s muffled voice.

  “What you doin’ up there?” Rollie demanded.

  “Just looking around. Miss Jewel said we could.”

  “Well, git down here. Now.” A cruel, feral glint came into his eyes. “I got a surprise for you.”

  When his sons descended the ladder, he was holding his pistol flat in his hand, rubbing it with the other hand, the way a man might caress a beloved treasure.

  “What’s the surprise?” Daniel asked.

  Behind him, Gilbert stopped short, watching his father with a cautious look. It was plain that he’d experienced his father’s many moods, and that he knew that this particular mood signaled trouble.

  “Me and your teacher are going on a little journey,” Rollie said.

  “Journey?” Pearl scraped back her chair and started to rise, but Rollie leveled the gun at her. She sank back down and weakly gripped the edge of her desk.

  “That’s right. See, I did a little figurin’. And I figure the only way Cal McCabe could know that I stole his sow and her litter was if you told him about seein’ us passin’ your school.”

  “Pa...” Gilbert’s words died as his father swung toward him with a look of pure hatred.

  “Shut up, boy.” He turned back to Pearl, and when he spoke again, his slow, even drawl was more frightening than his snarl of anger. “Everybody thinks I’m lazy and stupid. But I got a brain. A brain that tells me that every man has a weakness. And I’ve decided Cal McCabe’s weakness is you, Miss High-and-Mighty Jewel. So I’m going to use you to lure McCabe up into the hills.”

  “But why?” she managed to ask through a throat clogged with fear.

  “’Cause nobody beats up Rollie Ingram and gets away with it. Cal McCabe is going to pay. Only first, before he dies, he’s going to suffer. And there’s no better place to inflict pain than up there, where I’m king of the hill.” He laughed – a shrill, high sound that scraped across her nerves, sending a shudder through her. “Nobody knows those hills like me. Not even McCabe.” He motioned with the gun. “Now move, prissy little schoolmarm. I got the wagon all loaded and ready for our adventure.”

  Pearl couldn’t stand. Her legs were trembling violently. Instead, she tried to reason with him. “You can’t do this, Rollie.”

  “Oh, now it’s Rollie, is it? What happened to Mr. Ingram?”

  “Respect has to be earned,” she said in her most imperious tone.

  He threw back his head and laughed. “Oh, I’ll earn your respect, all right. Before this is over, Miss High-and-Mighty Jewel, you’ll call me whatever I tell you to call me. And you’ll do whatever I want to save your miserable life and that of McCabe.” His laughter died, and his face took on the look of a cruel, sadistic madman. “Now move.”

  She forced herself to stand and assume a rigid, proud pose. “I will not go with you. If you must, shoot me now.”

  “Well now, how noble . . .” His lips curled into an evil grin as he toppled her desk, sending her books and slates, and her vase of flowers, crashing to the floor “Oh, I’ll shoot you, all right. But I won’t kill you. Not yet. I intend to keep you alive for a long time, teacher. ’Cause you’re the bait that’ll lure McCabe into my trap.” He aimed the pistol and fired, just missing her foot by a fraction, sending splinters of wood flying through the air.

  Pearl’s heart nearly stopped,
then began racing so hard she feared she might faint.

  “The next one won’t miss. And I won’t take time to bind your wounds. You’ll just have to live with the pain. And bleed all over that pretty gown.” He waved the gun. “Now move.”

  “What about your boys?” she asked.

  “They know how to git home. The walk’ll do them good.”

  “Pa,” Gilbert pleaded, “you’ll have the whole town after you.”

  “Let them come. I got enough bullets stashed to hold off an army. It’d be worth fightin’ the whole town just to kill McCabe.”

  He jammed the gun in Pearl’s ribs. She lifted her skirts and started toward the door. When she didn’t move quickly enough, Rollie grabbed her by the arm and hauled her roughly outside, knocking desks and benches aside in his haste. “Now git up there, and let’s git movin’.”

  Daniel started to cry, and Rollie turned and swung his hand in an arc. Before he could connect with the little boy’s face, Gilbert had stepped between them, taking the blow meant for his brother. A blow that snapped his head to one side. His father grabbed him by the front of the shirt and dragged him close. The boy didn’t flinch as his father snarled, “Are you ready to fight me, boy? ’Cause if you are, you’ll answer to my gun.”

  Gilbert spoke not a word, but his eyes were as hard and angry as his father’s. Rollie gave him a shove that sent him sprawling.

  “See that you go straight home. And stay there. That’ll give me plenty of time to git where I’m goin’. When McCabe comes lookin’ for his lady, you tell him I took her to the hills. Tell him I’ll be waitin’ for him. Then you just sit tight, if you know what’s good for you.”

  “This time he’ll kill you,” Gilbert said quietly as he began to pick himself up from the dirt.

  The father caught him by the shirtfront and hauled him to his feet, then dealt him a punch to the stomach that sent him to his knees.

  With a cruel laugh, Rollie climbed aboard the wagon and flicked the reins. Over his shoulder he called, “I guess I know who you’ll be cheerin’ for. But I’ll be the one returnin’ from the hills, boy. And when I do, you and me are going to find out once and for all just what you’re made of.”