A HARD THING TO DO

A short story by
Celia Jolley

Calle thought washing clothes was hard, especially her little brothers' mud caked things.  But the day her ma asked her to walk out with a bucket of cool well water to where her father was working in the field began the hardest thing she'd ever had asked of her.  It was because of the letter she put in her father's hand, a letter a neighbor had just delivered for them from his trip to town.  Her pa drank nearly the whole bucket of water before wiping his mouth, swiping his dirty hands on his pants and taking the envelope.  

When he read it, his eyebrows went up before his eyes closed.  His lips moved as if he were praying, which she figured he was doing.  But then he handed it over to her saying, "It's from my nephew Johnnie.  Remember when we went to his wedding about eight or so years ago?

He's in a fix and needs help."

She took the letter surprised that he was asking her to read it even before Ma had a chance.  But then, it apparently concerned her.  

"Dear Charles, I hesitate to write this, but I don't know what else to do but ask my kinfolk for help.  My wife is unwell, however her sickness is of the mind.  She stays in bed so much that I am concerned for the children who are left to run wild, and now there's a baby to consider.  I can't stay home and run my farm too.  I wondered if your eldest daughter, I forget her name, could come help.  Hopefully it would be just for a time until my wife gets better.  I can't pay your girl nothing, but I'm desperate. Your nephew Johnnie."

"Me, Pa?  Is he talking about me?"

"I imagine so since you are the oldest," he said with a furrowed brow.  "Let's go talk to your ma and see what she thinks is best."

They walked side by side silently.  Calle felt she like she was falling into a deep well, so deep she doubted she'd ever be able to climb out.

"Judith?  I need you for a moment."  He waved his wife to join them in their bedroom.

"Charles?  What is it?  Is it bad news?" she asked as he shut the door behind her.

"Yes and no," he said rubbing his sweaty sunburned neck.  "We need your opinion on something."  He held out the letter.

Ma took it as the crinkling sound of the paper unfolding sent a chill down Calle's backbone.

She gasped, "Charles?  What do you think?"  She glanced over at Calle before meeting her husband's eyes.  Somehow, Calle didn't know how, they communicated with each other without a word.

Her mother took a deep breath and said, "I believe the final decision should be Calle's.  Your nephew is asking her to do a hard thing."

Her eyes grew huge, admittedly part in fear.  She'd never been asked to make such a heavy decision before in her life.  Calle looked back and forth between her parents trying to discern what they thought, but failed.  She stood alone on this.  It would mean taking care of a woman off in the head, a passel of wild children plus a baby, besides running the whole household by herself.

"Do you truly think I could do this?" she finally asked in a quivering voice.

"There's no doubt in my mind that you are capable enough, it's just that this is such a hard thing to do.  There's the housework, there's the children, and then there's the woman who is sick in the head.  She might be the hardest to deal with as the problem is unknown.  That is my biggest concern.  But hopefully with a little help, she might snap out of it," her ma said.

"You could try this and write us if it isn't working out.  There would be no shame in it if you needed us to come get you and bring you home, Calle.  This isn't just about my nephew's problem.  Our first concern would be with you.  You might not be able to fix her, but I know you could be a tremendous help in their time of need.  Your ma has taught you how to run a household, and you are good with young'uns too.  What do you think?"

Calle chewed her lip and scrunched up her nose before saying, "I suppose I could try it as long as I can come back home if it's too much.  But how long would I need to stay?"

"There's no telling," her pa said with a frown.  "But we don't expect you to stay more than a few months, a year at the most."

She sucked in a breath thinking, a year?  She was seventeen and had been looking forward to doing the things young people did together, socials, picnics, buggy rides.  She had been hoping to catch a certain young man's eye.  But by the time she got back home, somebody else might have stolen Beau away.

Her ma hugged her and sniffled.  "I'll certainly miss you, Calle.  You are such a big help to me."

Her pa patted her on the back saying, "I'm right proud of you being willing to try and help, no matter how it turns out."

"How soon should I be ready to go?"

"No use putting it off.  The weather's good, so we could leave at first light in the morning.  If I spent one night there, I could get the gist of what you'd be expected to handle."

"It's a good thing you are caught up on the laundry and your things are all clean and ready,"  her ma added.

"I guess I better go pack then."

Calle shut the door of her room keeping her curious little sisters out.  Fear crept inside and curled up in her stomach as if to stay.  She blinked back all the tears she could and wiped the rest off her cheeks with a swipe of her hand.  Her things were quickly folded and put in Pa's carpet bag.  She considered packing, "Jane Eyre," but it was too dark.  She chose "Persuasion" instead. 

Her sisters kept knocking.  '"Can we come in Calle?  Please?"

She sighed and opened the door for them.

Nell plopped on the bed and burst into tears.  "I don't want you to go away!" she cried.

Laura did her best to not cry, but swallowed a sob asking, "How long will you be gone?"

"I'm not sure."  She sat down between them and hugged them both before kissing each of them on the top of their head.  

"Ma will need your help more while I'm gone, so be good little helpers, okay?"

The little girls sniffed and hugged her back, "We will help," Laura said.

"We will be good," Nell added.

Calle felt weak like all her strength had drained away.   She laid back on her bed and put her arm over her head since it had began to ache.  Sleep was kind and refreshed her as she napped.

That night her ma fixed all her favorite things for dinner, fried chicken, fried okra, sliced tomatoes, corn on the cob, and a custard pie.

"This is all so good, Ma.  I hope I can remember how you make everything," she said as she swallowed her last bite of pie.

"I'm sure you'll do just fine.  Pa will send money so you can write letters home.  Did you pack any thing to write with?"

"No, I'll need to do that."

"How come you got to leave?" her younger brother asked while chewing with his mouth open.

"Pa's nephew Johnnie wrote and asked me to come help him."

"Why doesn't Aunt Margaret do it?  She's his ma, after all," her other brother said in between bites.  "Don't she live right close to him?"

"I don't know, but I guess I'll find out when I get there."

She got up to clear the table when her ma said, "Not tonight, Calle.  Your sisters promised to be helpful, so they will be doing it all by themselves." Ma winked at the two younger girls.  

Laura chewed on the end of her braid nervously while Nell grinned ear to ear saying.  "We get to be big girls now!"

"I guess, I'll just go put some paper and pen in my bag while I'm thinking of it then."  She went to the quiet of her bedroom and shut the door on the noise of her younger brothers arguing and wrestling until she heard her pa's deep voice stopping the ruckus.  Her mother's voice was a sweet murmuring, like a song without lyrics.  She would miss them all so much.  Calle got ready for bed and had to settle for a fitful night's sleep.

Before she knew it, her ma was shaking her shoulder while whispering, "Time to get up, Calle.  Come grab a quick bite to eat.  Your father is anxious to be off.  As soon as he takes care of his  chores, you'll be leaving."

Calle got up and donned the calico dress she'd worn the day before.  She grabbed her carpet bag and put it by the front door.  Bacon and scrambled eggs were ready.  Her ma even poured her a cup of coffee weakened by lots of cream saying, "You might need to start drinking this every morning since you'll have your hands so full, sweetheart."  

The drink was warm, though not that good.  She doubted she'd take to drinking it.  Calle put her dishes in the sink just as her pa walked in.  He was careful to shut the door gently so as not to wake the others so early. It would be for the best and save them all a lot of silly tears at parting.

"Ready?" her pa asked.

"As ready as I'll ever be," she grinned giving his own saying back to him.  

He responded, "You'll be alright by the time you get married."

"Ahh, Pa, you've told me that since I was in nappies," she teased helping to look more cheerful than she felt.  Then she kissed and hugged her ma and followed her father out to the wagon where he'd thrown her baggage.  Ma handed her the straw hat she usually wore and stood back with her arms crossed over her heart, clinging to her own shoulders. 

"We will always be praying for you, sweetheart," she promised, and Calle believed her.  She felt sorry for the little wild ones she was heading for who did not have this kind of loving support from both their parents.

Her pa slapped the reigns on the horses to prod them into a swift walk.  He waved back, but Calle couldn't do it without crying, so she kept her face forward toward her future.  

They didn't talk much.  That's just how her pa was.  Besides, she wasn't going to be just one of his little girls chattering away anymore.  Calle was definitely going to be growing up right quick where she was headed.

Pa broke in finally saying, "I mean it, sweet girl.  If you don't feel comfortable for any reason, drop a note in the mail, and I'll come as quick as I can to get you."

"I think I'll be alright, but thanks, Pa.  It will make me feel better knowing that you'd do that.  I wonder how many littles there are where I'm going.  Your nephew didn't say, did he?"

"No, he didn't.  But if you figure she had a child ever couple of years, there might be at least three or four of them, I'd guess."

"He said there was a baby.  Ma told me that sometimes mothers fall into a blue spell for a time  after giving birth.  If that's true, she hopefully will snap out of it soon after I get there."

"I remember how happy Johnnie was on his wedding day. "

"I remember too.  His bride was one of the prettiest I've ever seen."

"I did notice that she didn't smile much.  I don't doubt that she was glad to marry Johnnie, it's just that, I don't know, her face didn't light up as much as you'd think a bride's would.   I know my sister was a little concerned, you know my nephew Johnnie's mother, your Aunt Margaret.  She told me that Susan's mother was off in the head too.  That woman did strike me as  being a bit odd at the reception when she just up and walked out as the cake was being cut, not smiling or looking anyone in the eye.  All I'm saying is that it could be a weakness of the mind passed down in her family, mother to daughter.  Those kind of things are unfortunate, terribly sad, but can't always be fixed.  I feel sorry for Johnnie and his young'uns for all they're going through."

"I imagine he's been pretty stressed having to leave the little ones alone with her every day wondering if she was capable of caring for them, especially with the baby. It would be a constant worry heavy on his mind."

"I'm sure you're right.  He's likely to be exhausted," her pa added.  "I know I couldn't keep up the house like your ma does, and she's a picture of health.  A woman's place in the home is a blessing to her husband and her whole family. If that's out of kilter, whatever the circumstances, illness or loss, the whole family suffers."

They arrived before supper.  Upon knocking, a child, who must be about three years old, opened the door while another yelled from within, "Don't open to strangers, you idiot!"

The little child's chin quivered, so of course Calle scooped her up and patted her on the back saying, "It's okay.  Your daddy asked us to come."  

Before she knew it four children under the age of seven or eight, she guessed, stood in front of them gaping.  Not a one had their hair brushed.  Their clothes were dirty, ripped and some obviously too small.   Of course, the stove was not lit, and there was no supper on the table.

It appeared that the eight year old was in charge.  He barked, "Jed, go tell Pa that company's here.  Joseph, go bring in some wood for the stove.  Jane, get us some water."  Then he looked down at the youngest and simply said, "Jenny, you visit with them while we're busy."

With that, the three year old stuck a dirty finger in her mouth and gazed wonderingly up at her.  "What's your name, sweetheart?" Calle asked stifling back a face as the poor child's stench reached her nose.  Evidently she still wet the bed at night, and no one had changed her clothes."

The child only gazed at her as a small grin grew around her finger.

Her father cleared his throat.  "I guess we better find something to fix for supper."  He nodded towards the dishpan overflowing with unwashed dishes.  "Maybe you can tackle those while I go see if he has a cellar or smokehouse."

At least the oldest was busy making a fire in the stove for them.

She nodded and rolled her sleeves up while the little one followed never taking her eyes off her.  By the time her pa brought in a ham and carved off thick slices, Calle had the skillet washed along with another pan in which she could quickly make corn cakes to go with it. 

As the beckoning smells of supper cooking clenched their stomachs, she looked around at all the eager faces.  She said to the two older ones, "How about if you set the table for us, just wash your hands first."  The kids looked surprised and glanced at their dirty hands. 

"We just washed them yesterday," the one named Jed said.

"There's clean dishes up on the counter that I just finished washing, and your hands need to be clean as well," she added.

When a weak voice called from the closed off bedroom, "Joel?  Is somebody here?" the oldest boy flinched before reluctantly going in to see his mother.  Though he closed the door behind him, they could all hear the weak voice turn shrill,  "I don't need no charity!  You and your pa can take care of us all by yourselves."  

A thin wail of a baby whipped Calle's face around to stare at the closed door.  The boy slipped out holding a shriveled little thing who couldn't be more than a month old.   

"Do you have any goats, young man?" her pa asked taking the baby out of the boy's hands and gently holding it up on his shoulder.  

"No sir.  Pa has to get it from the neighbors when he can."

"Can you run and go get some?  The baby needs it."  Pa handed him some money out of his pocket adding, "Tell them this ought to pay for enough milk for the next couple of months."

"Yes sir," he said.  Before running off, he grabbed a corn cake off the platter with a grin.

"They all look half starved.  I can't imagine how Johnnie is faring," Pa said under his breath.

Soon after saying that, Johnnie walked in the door, a gaunt man with dark shadows under his eyes.  His hair was just as unkept as his children's along with a beard as coarse and wild as a bear rug.  The children sang out, "Pa's home!" and ran to hug him.

Her pa walked over and shook his hand.  Then sensing the man's need, he drew him into a hug as well.  She couldn't tell for sure, but she thought she saw the man's shoulders heaving as if he were sobbing.  Sure enough when the man stepped back, he was wiping his eyes.

"I guess you can tell how bad off we are."  He nodded towards the baby saying, "I'm most worried for her.  She's just a little thing, and the wife's milk's about dried up."

"I sent your oldest to the neighbors for goat milk.  I'm sure Calle will be a big help to you."

Johnnie looked over at her as if seeking assurance that all would be well soon.  "It's nice to see you again, cousin," she managed to say with a weak smile. 

Pa kept patting the starving baby whose cries were weak and raspy, and took her outside so everyone wouldn't be disturbed by the crying.  

"Will it take him long to return with the milk?" she asked.  It hurt to listen to the baby's wailing that sounded more like a wounded animal.

"Not especially.  He runs fast, but I just hope he don't spill it all while he's at it."

Callie took a plate, put a slice of ham on it and began cutting it into little pieces for the younger children.

"Whatcha doing that fer?" one of the little boys asked, probably the one called Joseph.

"It's so it will be easier for you to eat without choking."

"Jed was choking one time on a chicken bone, and we had a hard time making him hack it back up, didn't we, Pa."

"Yes..." but just then the shrill voice called from the bedroom.

"John!" his wife shrieked.  "Is that you?  Come in here this instant, and then tell your kinfolk they ain't welcome.  We don't need them no how."

His shoulders slumped as he walked to the door.  Even though he shut it behind him, his wife's voice was so loud that it was unavoidable to keep from hearing.

"Tell your kinfolk they ain't welcome," she repeated.  "You and the young'uns can take care of yourselves.  We don't need no help!"

John's voice was only a low rumble, but it didn't appease his wife a bit.  Soon things were being thrown and slamming into the wall.  John slipped out with the lantern, probably so she wouldn't break it next.  

"Please excuse my wife.  She's not thinking straight."  He said it so quietly that Calle could barely hear him.

"Ma's always mad at you, Pa," one of the little boys sighed.

"And mad at us too," his sister added sadly.

Just then Pa brought the baby back in along with the boy who set a pail of milk on the counter.  "Do you have a bottle for her, Johnnie?" he asked.

"Here," Johnnie said handing him a dish that looked a little like a gravy bowl but with a longer spout.  "This is all I have for now.  Next time I go to town, I'll have to ask if they have any bottles."

Her pa deftly poured milk in and carefully gave it to the baby who was red in the face from screaming.  The poor thing was flailing and arching her back.  Somehow Pa held on to it securely until the wee thing realized it was her dinner and began to eagerly drink from it.  Calle watched as her pa only gave her so much before putting her on his shoulder, though the infant protested, and patted her until she burped.  Then he gave her more.  This would be something that Calle would need to do after her pa left.  This whole job looked nigh unto impossible, but she was determined to do everything in her power to help this sad little family.

Soon the children were eagerly seated and could barely wait for the prayer  to be said before they began devouring the food.  Johnnie himself acted like he couldn't get enough either.

Calle rose and went back to the counter to mix cornmeal into a batter to fry more corn cakes since they were disappearing so fast.  She couldn't believe how much they ate.  She finally got one herself though the ham had been long gone.  After her pa laid the sleeping infant into a makeshift cradle, he walked over, pulled his handkerchief out of his pocket and slipped her a little piece of his ham he'd saved for her.

"Thanks, Pa," she grinned.  As soon as the children were done eating, they ran outside with a whoop.  Though she was beyond weary, it would be a while yet before the children would come in from chasing fireflies and be ready for bed.  She was too tired to give them baths and doubted they had any clean clothes anyway.

"I can't tell you what this means to me," Johnnie said driving his hands through his messy hair.

"I wish we'd known sooner is all, Johnnie," her pa answered.

"Ma tried to help, but my wife ran her off with a knife, and she's afraid to come back.  When I go to town, she sometimes sends dinner home, but my pa won't let her step foot back on our property."

Calle and her dad could only look at each other shocked.  "Sounds to me like we'd better hide the knives.  Calle can get one out when she needs it for cooking, but other than that, there shouldn't be any readily available.  I want my girl safe, Johnnie," he said sternly.

"I'll do the best I can, Charles, believe you me.  I make sure there aren't any guns either that she can find.  I want my children safe too.  He dropped his voice even more and continued, "Sometimes she worries me with what she threatens to do," he said in a low voice.

Her pa nodded to her, so she went into the kitchen side of the house and gathered up the knives looking around to figure where to put them.  

Johnnie noticed what she was doing and whispered, "Put them in the upper cupboard on the left side.  Ever since she said a mouse jumped out at her there, she refuses to open that door."

"What kinds of things does she threaten to do, John?" her pa whispered back looking concerned.  Calle strained to hear.

"Well, besides threatening to stab us in our sleep,  or shoot us, she threatens to drown the baby and to burn the cabin down."  The poor man choked down another sob.  "She hasn't always been this way.  It's not like she was ever the best at keeping house or keeping the children clean, but now..."  he shook his head.  "I can't do this by myself."

Calle spoke up.  I will help all I can, Johnnie.  But if I feel the children are in danger, I will hide them.  Is there anywhere you could suggest?" she asked in a low voice.

"There are thickets along the creek.  You just have to look out for snakes is all.  Then send Joel to the neighbors to get help."

Calle's eyes grew round but she still nodded.  She'd never say anything, but as soon as they'd walked into the cabin today, she felt an oppressive heaviness pressing down on her.

Her pa added, "If it gets too bad, I think it would be best if I bring Calle and the children  home with us until your wife takes a turn for the better."

John took out his handkerchief, wiped his eyes and blew his nose.  "I hope it doesn't come to that, but thanks.  You can't imagine what this means to me.  I was afraid for a little while that this itty bitty one wouldn't survive." He gazed down at the sleeping baby with love in his eyes.  "My boy Joel does what he can, but the others aren't hardly big enough to do much yet."

"You'll have to tell me your children's names," she said forcing a smile.

"Well, the baby is Jessica, but we all call her Bitsy. The three year old with the blonde curls is Jenny.  Next are the twins, Joseph and Janie.  Finally, the older boys are Jed and Joel."

It squeezed her heart to think how hard it must be to have six children in eight years

Just then the children burst in.  Jed hollered, "We're hungry!"  

Calle had forgotten that her ma had sent cookies, so she said,  "As soon as you wash your hands and faces, I have cookies for you, ones my ma sent."

"Ahh," Joel grumbled.  "We jest did that afore supper."

But the other children looked up with wonder and practically said in unison, "Cookies?"

She smiled and pointed to the wash pan.  They ran and jostled each other to be first.

"Joel, help the littles.  After them, Jed's next, then you," Johnnie said firmly.

Soon the kids were in heaven around the table with cookies and milk.  But the baby broke the peace with a wail.  Calle jumped up to fill the dish with goat milk and took her as soon as Johnnie had her nappie changed.  The precious thing stared up at her as she sucked it down.

"Since it goes down so quickly, you need to stop and burp her more often," her dad reminded her. "Then you can feed her some more each time."

The baby protested when she took it away, but her burp was so loud, all the boys chortled.  "She can burp louder than we can," Joel said laughing.  "Way to go, Bitsy!"

"I'll bed down in the barn, John.  Do you know where you want Calle to sleep?"

John looked around dazed.  "The boys sleep up in the loft, and the girls share a bed in the only other room."

"But Jenny wets the bed," Janie said scrunching up her nose."

"I can make up a pallet until you can make me a bed.  I'll start sewing up a mattress cover to stuff with hay as soon as we can get some material from town."

"If you make me a list, sugar plum," her dad said, "I'll go by the mercantile after I have a quick visit with my sister.  Then I'll come back and make you that bed tomorrow."

"You got a sister around these parts, mister?" Jed asked.

"You bet!  She's your grandma Margaret."  

"We don't hardly git to see her much anymore, not since ma chased her away with a butcher knife awhile back."

Ignoring that last comment with a shudder, Calle asked, "How far is it to their place, Johnnie? Maybe someday I can take the children in the wagon to go see her."

"Sure," he almost grinned.  "She'd like that.  The chill'ens do miss her.  I've just been too overwhelmed to do such a thing."

Suddenly she was overwhelmed herself with weariness.  "I think I'll go to bed with little chickens," she smiled.

"I not a chicken," Jenny said.  

"You're not?" Calle teased.  "Are you sure these curls are feathers, and I could swear I heard you peep."

The little girl shook her head, but then stuck her finger in her mouth again and grinned around it.

"Do you have something she can sleep on tonight, Johnnie," her pa asked.

"I'll grab a bundle of hay and an extra blanket for her to sleep on to make do for now.  You little'uns get in line for the outhouse before you go to bed.  Janie, you help little Jenny.  Don't let her fall in again."


At her look of horror, her pa hugged her to his side and said, "Remember, just send a letter with Joel to mail in town if you need us to come.  We will." 

Her pa stayed a whole other day to help.  Even though it would make her ma worry, Calle was thankful for him spending the extra time.  Between doing the washing, cooking the meals while keeping an eye on the children, and especially the baby, she had her hands full.  She was grateful he had found bottles for the baby as well as material for a mattress cover.

As he was hammering the wood to make her a bed, Susan hollered from her bedroom, "What in tarnation is all that ruckus out there.  Can't a woman have peace under her own roof without y'all coming here and taking over?"  Her squalling  woke the baby, even though the hammering had not disturbed her sleep.

Calle's Pa picked up the baby and rocked her in his arms while saying, "Sorry, Susan, but I have to make a bed for my daughter who's going to be staying here to help until you get back on your feet."

"I don't need no daughter of yern to come in here and take over.  Y'all jest get!"

"Can't do that, Susan.  Your children need someone to watch over them, which you are not doing, and to do all the household chores you are not doing.  Like I said before, until you are out of bed and back on your feet this is how it will be."

The woman began swearing so badly that Calle hurried the little girls out, telling them to go visit the kittens in the barn.  The boys were already outside, probably staying as far away from the house as possible.  She didn't blame them.  It wasn't a pleasant home to be in, that was for sure.

"Susan, that's enough!" her pa said sternly.

"Make Johnnie come back in here.  I'll tell him what I think of y'all."

"He's out plowing.  I'm sure he'll talk to you at dinner."

"Go get him now!"

"Sorry, but no.  We're all busy," Pa answered her firmly enough to quiet her for now.

After she got done screaming, the house was quiet again.  Calle took the baby from her pa, changed her nappie, and fed her the milk she'd warmed.  After burping her, feeding her some more and burping her again, Calle sank into the rocker, glad for an excuse to get off her feet as she rocked the sweet thing.  She thought it odd that Susan never asked to see her baby.  Johnnie took her in their room at night, but he brought Bitsy out again first thing in the morning to feed her before he even drank his coffee.  

Calle got some beans simmering with chunks of ham in it, then went outside to hang up the clothes she'd washed.  When she came in, she set to work sewing a mattress cover with the material her pa had brought back from his trip to town.  With the kids all out of the house except the sleeping baby, she asked quietly, "What did Aunt Margaret have to say?"

Her Pa looked grim.  "She says it might not be safe to have you here, that you need to take her threats seriously and do what you can to protect you and the children.  She also said that she told Johnnie he might need to lock Susan in her room during the day.  I'll have to speak to him about that.  Margaret says as much as she loves her son and grandchildren, her health isn't good enough to take care of them besides her own household.  Johnnie's younger brothers are still in the home.  Her boys come out and help Johnnie on the farm from time to time when he needs, but they have their own work to get done."

That night after the young'uns went to bed, the men sat around the table drinking more coffee while she just sat  doing mending as she listened.  She stopped to sip her cup doctored with cream even though it made her wrinkle her nose.

"Johnnie, I think I agree with your mother.  She says that we need to put a bar across your bedroom door during the day so Susan won't come out and interfere or do worse while you're not here."

Johnnie wiped his face before pulling on his beard.  "I hate to do it, but I hate it more that her own children are scared of her."  With a deep sigh he continued, "I believe you're right, Charles.  I promise I'll take care of it before I go to work in the field tomorrow morning."

Just then Susan stood there like a specter.  Calle hadn't seen her since their wedding and couldn't help shivering at the change in her.  

"What do you mean you'll be locking me in my room like some wild animal!  You better not, Johnnie or I'll..." she shrieked.

"Susan, stop.  Nobody here wants to harm you, but just wants to help you and take care of you.  Don't make things worse," Johnnie said in a flat voice.

She walked over a poured herself a cup of coffee and sat down in her nightgown right across from Pa.  Calle was embarrassed for her though the woman didn't seem to think anything of it.

"Jest because I don't mind you cooking and cleaning, don't you even think about taking over here, young lady."  The look in her eyes sent a chill down Calle's back.

"Susan," Johnnie said sounding a warning.

"I'm only here for awhile 'till you get better, I promise," Calle finally got up the nerve to speak to her.

The woman grunted and sipped some coffee without ever taking her eyes off Calle.  "And another thing, don't even think of trying to steal my husband neither.  I won't have any shenanigans going on under my roof.  I can hear y'all better than you know."

"Enough, Susan!  Don't say such things.  Calle should not to be insulted this way."

"See, you already are taking up with her!"

"Susan, that kind of talk is unacceptable," her pa huffed.  "Such allegations are unthinkable, so never say such a thing again."  He was as stern as she'd ever seen him.  He glowered until the woman almost shriveled up into her self before slamming her cup down spilling coffee all over the table and her nightgown  then stalked back into her room.  The slam of the door woke the baby.

Johnnie sighed.  "Let me get Bitsy." He tenderly held his bitty baby, before saying, "I apologize, cousin.  She doesn't know what she's saying.  She's become very paranoid and suspicious lately."

Calle only nodded her head and searched her father's face for assurance that all would be well contrary to the evidence of such a disturbed woman.

"You okay, Calle?  You don't have to do this," her pa whispered while Johnnie was changing the baby crooning to the wee thing.

"Somebody needs to help this poor family, Pa.  I'll get me and the children to Aunt Margaret's if it suddenly becomes too bad.  We'll wait for you there.  I figure that I could put Jenny, Joseph and Jane on the horse while Jed and Joel can walk. I can carry Bitsy.

"That's a good idea," he said finally letting his stormy countenance relax a smidgen.  "Just promise me that if you are suspicious even a tiny little bit that she might hurt you or the children, you'll run away as fast as you can."

"I promise, Pa."

"You know your ma won't like it that I'm leaving you here like this," he said heaving a deep sigh.

The next morning, Calle waved goodbye to her father with a heavy heart.  At least Johnnie kept his promise and put a bar across the door even though Susan screamed bloody murder at him the whole time.  Her unrelenting pounding didn't help either.  The children hesitated between sitting down to breakfast or running away out of hearing their crazy mom's fit.  Little Bitsy picked up on the tension and would not stop crying either.  Finally, Calle waved them all outside beyond the chaos where she finally got the baby quieted.  Joel just grumbled that he'd rather have eaten.

Susan's voice had became hoarse when Calle slipped in to make the baby a bottle as well as to bring some biscuits out to the children to tide them over.  

"Is Ma done with her tantrum yet?" Jacob asked.   "I want some bacon and eggs."

She listened and didn't hear any more ranting.  "I think so, so let's go back,"  Calle finally agreed.  When the children cheered, she shushed them.  "Let's be quiet when you go in.  If your ma has fallen asleep, we wouldn't want to wake her, would we?"

The children looked serious and all shook their heads no.  Inside, it was almost eerie how quiet the little ones stayed.  Calle put the sleeping babe back in the cradle so she could wash up the dishes.  The children broke out in their normal noise as soon as they stepped back outside.  She took a deep breath grateful that they still had the ability to play with joyful abandon though she was certain there would always be a deep down hurt in their soul.

It was a daily task to wash little Jenny's sheets as well as the babies nappies.  Bitsy was sleeping so Calle stepped out to hang the laundry on the line.  When she walked back in, she stopped with a jolt of fear.  Susan's door was left ajar and the baby wasn't in the cradle.  Before she could run out, Susan walked in with a bloody ax, with some of the blood splattered on her dirty nightgown.  

"I have a hankering for fried chicken tonight.  Here, you take it."  The woman handed over the  bloody ax as well as the headless chicken that was behind her back.

Finally Calle could breath again, but sputtered, "Where's Bitsy?"  

"Oh, I gave her to Jane to hold."

Calle ran outside laying the ax by the woodpile where she found Jane crying holding a whimpering baby.

"What happened, sweetheart?"  She took the babe and began rocking her back asleep in her arms. 

"I went in to get my rag doll while you was hanging out the laundry.  I started singing her a lullaby when Ma called and asked if it was me.  She nicely asked me to please open the door so she could give me a hug.  I knew better," the little girl snuffled, "but I wanted her to hug me again.  It's been so long since..."

Calle hugged the child with her free arm and held her a long time.  "It's okay, sweetheart.  Why don't you find Jenny and play with her.  I need you to keep your eye on her."

The little girl sniffed and nodded.  "She's in the barn playing with the kittens again.  You know," Jane said pitifully sad, "Ma never did hug me like she said she wanted to."

"I'm so sorry, sweet girl." After giving her another hug, Calle said, "I do need to go lay the baby back down and make dinner before your pa comes in from the field."

Calle cautiously entered the house, but did not see Susan.  The door to her room was closed again.  Calle laid the baby down and went and lowered the bar as quietly as she could.  The woman must have fallen asleep because she did not protest.

She raised her eyes heavenward and whispered, "Thank you, dear Lord!" Her legs were still wobbly from the scare.  It would be a long time before she could get the image of the bloody ax out of her mind.

Calle plunked the chicken in boiling water and plucked it, cleaved it and cleaned the chicken, before rolling it in flour and dropped it into the sizzling grease.  She pealed the potatoes and put them in a pot to boil so she could mash them later.  Joel had brought in a bowl of beans which she split and put on to cook.  By the time Johnnie came home, the boys had washed off the ax and the meal was ready to put on the table.  Eager children lined up to wash their hands and faces.  They were so dirty that Calle knew to put out two wash pans.  It wasn't fair to Joel to be left to wash with such muddy water.

"This looks good.  Thank you," her cousin said.  "I'll take Susan a plate before I go back out to the field," he said glancing over at the door.  "I'm glad to see she finally calmed down."  

Catching Jane's fearful glance, Calle decided she would tell the man about it later when the children weren't listening.

When he came back out from taking his wife her plate, he almost forgot to bar the door until he saw Calle's expression.  "Oh, sorry."  Then he came over and asked quietly, "What did she mean that she cut the chicken's head off?" 

"I'll tell you when the children are asleep, all right?"

They had left over ham and beans for supper.  Later that night after she told him, he shook his head and said, "I'll hide the ax in some hay, just to be on the safe side.  My poor Jane," he sighed.

A sort of routine fell into place.  Susan only railed against her about once a day.  Calle figured she could put up with that.  However, she was never so surprised as when she answered a knock on the door one Friday only to find Dale Bogart standing there.  He was a man from home, a few years older than her, as well as a man with a reputation of dissipation and a bootlegger.  

"Mr. Bogart," I'm surprised to see you."  She was glad that the children were all off playing.

"I overheard someone say that you were here helping out, so I thought I'd come by to see if you wanted a ride home for the weekend.  I just came to get some planned lumber from the mill here, you see."  He looked rather proud of himself though Calle knew good and well that her pa would never send him to bring her home.

"I'm sorry for your trouble, but this is not a good time for me to go home.  But if you'll wait, I'll grab a letter I wrote my folks, if you won't mind delivering it."

The man's gleaming smile turned into a glower.  She could smell the spirits in his breath.  "Now, it's not often a man goes out of his way to offer a lady a ride this far from home.  If you don't take it, I'll wager it will be a long time coming before another fella comes along so willing as I've done."

Calle did not ask him in, but ran to get the letter.  "Here.  Like I said, thank you for the offer, but I really can't leave right now."

Just then Susan started hollering.  "Who's there?  It better not be some swain calling trying to get you off cavorting."

Calle turned beet red while Dale leaned up against the doorway crossing his arms and grinning.  "So that's the woman I heard gossip about.  Do you go cavorting often?"

Calle huffed and tried to shut the door on him, but he pushed his way in.  

"I think I should at least get a kiss for my effort," he smirked backing her all the way up against the table until her calves knocked the bench over.

"No.  You need to leave right now, Mr. Bogart!"

For the first time since she'd been there, Johnnie walked in mid-morning.  He never came home before dinner.  "What's going on here?" he barked.  He looked at Calle's panicked face and rolled up his sleeves as if he was ready to throw the first punch.

Susan hollered from her room, "That worthless gal invited him in saying she wanted a kiss.  I heard 'em."

Calle blushed even more but shook her head sputtering, "I would never do that."

"I know, cousin.  I could hear from outside what was happening. This man is about to leave right quick or else, for he is not welcome in my house."

Dale shrugged his shoulders but backed away saying, "No harm done."  He threw her letter on the floor adding, "But don't expect me to go out of my way to deliver your mail.  I'm a busy man, too busy for the likes of you."  Then he was gone.

Calle closed her eyes in relief to look up into Johnnie's angry face. "Did he lay a hand on you?" her cousin asked.

"No, but thank goodness you came home when you did.   How did you come to being here?  You've never come in from the field before dinner since I've been here."

"My harness broke and I needed another one.  But when I saw his wagon, I came over to see who was here.  I'm glad I did."

"Me too," she sighed.  "Thank you."

"Don't let her fool you, Johnnie.  She led him on," was the gleeful voice from the bedroom.

"Enough Susan.  I heard the whole thing, so quit trying to accuse her with your terrible lies."

The woman shrieked and banged on her door.  Her husband left as quickly as he could.  "See you for dinner," he said on his way out.

The children ran clamoring to know who had come to visit.  She stepped out to greet them in case their mother started spouting off more of her awful accusations or swear words unfit for children's ears.  "It was just a man from my home town, but not someone I really know well at all.  He's not a nice man, so your father fortunately sent him away."

Joel said suspiciously, "Why?  What was wrong with that fella?  He looked all right to me."

"Looks can be deceiving."  Just then the baby cried, so she ducked back inside to feed little Bitsy, grateful that Susan had quieted down.

Jenny stood in the doorway, "Miss Cowee, I didn't wet the bed last night."

"I noticed, precious girl.  I'm so proud of you!"  And she was.  

That night she got up her nerve and asked at the supper table, "Johnnie, do you ever take the  children to church?

"It's been a long time," he said looking guilty.  "It's just been too hard with Susan being sick and all."

"What's church?" little Jenny innocently asked.

"It's where God lives," Joseph told her with a satisfied grunt.

"Na-uh," Jane corrected him.  "He lives up in the sky and floats around on the clouds."

Jed acted disgusted saying, "You're both wrong.  He's too busy swinging open the gates of heaven to let the good people in and throwing the bad guys into hell."

Jane asked, "What's hell?"

Joel laughed.  "Don't worry, Jane.  You're not going there so its nothing to worry about."

Calle was so astonished that she hadn't said a thing.  But Johnnie finally spoke up saying, "I guess it's time that we go since Jenny can't recall ever being there.  I don't want to raise any heathens."

So Saturday night baths came into being from the youngest to the oldest.  It also meant that all the children's best clothes, which weren't much to speak of, were washed and ready.  When Sunday morning came, she made biscuit and bacon sandwiches.  Then Calle combed or brushed their  hair before they were let out the door to where their father waited in the wagon.

"I want to go!  How dare you go to church without me!"  Susan screamed.  "Don't you know what those folks will say if I'm not sitting by you in the pew?" But everyone just ignored her. 

Calle was relieved to leave that voice behind.  It never got easier to hear the woman.  Yet, she knew Susan had said something with a grain of truth.  People would gossip.  But it was worth it if it got the children to church.

The organist had begun playing as they filed in.  But the music was interrupted when the children broke away from Calle and ran down the aisle calling, "Grandma!  Grandpa!"

As disruptive as it was, it still brought a tear to her eye to see her aunt and uncle's glad welcome to their grandchildren.  Aunt Margaret even hugged her tightly as she tearfully said, "Thank you, Calle.  You'll never know how much this means to me."

A man from across the aisle growled, "Where's my daughter?  How come she ain't here?" The woman who sat beside him looked emotionless.

Johnnie had just come in from tending his horses and simply stated, "She wasn't well enough to come.  Maybe soon, I hope."

The man continued talking with obvious contempt, "Some feller came to the tavern last week from yer neck of the woods, little gal, and told everyone there that you'd taken to locking her up in her own home.  That ain't right and you know it."

Johnnie looked around knowing they were making a spectacle of themselves offering heaping helpings of gossip for the busy bodies.  But he gave a rebuttal that he knew would stop his father-in-law in his tracks.  "We're trying to keep her safe, Amos.  At least I haven't tied her to a chair."  Everybody knew that's what the man had been doing to his own wife.  He huffed and turned forward as the organist began playing again.

The children arranged themselves with the girls sitting by their grandmother and the boys between their grandfather and their nearly grown uncles.   Calle chose to sit behind the family after handing Bitsy over to her grandmother.

When the boys got to wiggly, their grandpa or their pa thumped them on the back of their heads.  Little Jenny fell asleep on her grandpa's shoulder while Jane leaned quietly against her grandmother's arm.   Amazingly, Bitsy slept through the whole service, much to Calle's relief.

After the doxology was sung, Margaret insisted that they all come have Sunday dinner at their house.  The kids were beyond excited.

"We can't stay long 'cause I've got to get back to Susan," Johnnie said.  

It was the rowdiest meal Calle had ever sat down to, but the merriest.  Their home had none of the heaviness that hovered over Johnnie and Susan's place.  When it was time to go, his parents begged to keep the children a little longer promising to bring them out after supper.  Since Bitsy would need another bottle soon, Calle went back with Johnnie.

"That was worth all the scrubbing at Saturday night's baths, all the washing to get clean clothes and all the fussing as I brushed their hair.  The children sure were happy to see your folks," she said.

"I know," he said with his shoulders slumping.  "I wish I had more time to take them there.  I hope we can keep going on Sunday mornings.  We all would like that."

It seemed extraordinarily quiet at home.  Calle figured that she'd earned her rest and even snuck in a short nap before Bitsy woke up.  But when Johnnie called, "I've got her," she laid on her bed thinking.  He was a good father.  Then she sat up on the bed slapping a hand over her mouth as she almost let a cry out.  Somehow she suddenly realized that any one of these sweet children, especially the girls, might inherit the same illness that made their ma so crazy.  It was a horrendous thought making her blink back tears.

Susan had been on good behavior, so much so that when they went back to church the next Sunday, Susan came along.  It was a tense, quiet ride to the white clapboard building.  Finally, Jed broke out once it was in sight saying, "Did you know that it was our Pa who put that thing up there, that thing on the roof that points to God?"

Joseph added, "I think I remember that.  Do you, Ma?"

Everyone got quiet then Susan said almost pleasantly, "Of course I do.  We were all so proud that he didn't even fall off the roof."

Johnnie only grunted while the little girls giggled.

It was the happiest she'd ever seen this precious family.  Everything was going well as people went out of their way to greet Susan.  She seemed surprised.  Calle noticed her parents were not warm people as they only gave curt nods in her direction and ignored their grandchildren again.  The young'uns in fact were being so good, glad to have their mama there.  The preacher had just begun preaching when the sanctuary doors flew open with a bang and a foul stench wafted in.

Calle sunk down in her seat covering her face.  It was none other than Teddy Runyon, the pig farmer from back home.  "Oh, don't let him see me, don't let him see me," she muttered under her breath until his voice reverberated, "Is Miss Calle here?" 

"Oh, no!" she cringed, totally humiliated.  She knew that none of the Runyons had ever stepped foot in a church, but surely he must know how awful this was to interrupt a preacher in the middle of his sermon.

Before he could say anymore, Calle jumped up and walked swiftly down the aisle with her head down.  The only sound was Susan cackling.  "So Miss High and Mighty has another man come to call."

That seemed to loosen Teddy's tongue for he spoke loudly, the only volume he knew how to use, making sure all could hear, "There you are Miss Calle.  I come calling fer you.  I spect you might be ready to get away from that crazy..."

But Calle slapped her hand over his mouth and pushed him outside hoping the ushers would shut the doors before any more could be heard.  However, once her hand was off his mouth, he continued, "Why'd you go and do that, Calle? What'd I do wrong?  I was only repeating what Dale said about that woman who was locked up, the one he said kept hollering crazy stuff."  Calle looked over her shoulder with a shudder.  Not only were the doors still open but Susan was stomping out with Johnnie on her heels.

"Don't you dare call me a crazy woman, you vile man!   Go back to your pig sty!" she screamed after noting the crate with the giant hog in it in the back of his wagon that he'd pulled right up next to the church steps.  Johnnie caught up with his wife and was leading, or rather dragging her to their wagon as she kept up a shrieking protest.

"That's her, ain't it," Teddy grinned.  "I thought Dale was stretching it a bit, but jest look at her blow!"  

Calle managed to shove the huge man over to his wagon and hissed, "Get out of here, Mr. Runyon.  How dare you!  You have not only interrupted God's house, but upset a woman and her entire family.  I will not go with you now or ever."  She stomped her foot like a two year old.

At least the man heaved himself up in his wagon, but had the audacity to belly laugh all the way down the road.  However, he kept looking back as if in awe of the woman on display in full force."

After he left, Johnnie raised his voice over his wife's hullabaloo to say to Calle, "I'm taking her home.  Go with my children to my parents.  They'll bring y'all home later."  Then he slapped his reigns making the horses leap forward to speed away at a fast trot. 

Calle leaned up against a tree with her back to the church and sobbed.  She'd never been so embarrassed in her life!  She sighed, thinking poor Susan, poor Johnnie,  with a little woe is me thrown in.  It was unimaginable what had just happened.  People would have a hay day with this whole affair and talk about it for years to come.  Of course, people avoided her when church was over, except for her aunt, uncle and cousins.  But her boy cousins kept prodding wanting to know all about the uncouth smelly pig farmer.  They chortled all the way to their house and kept it up around the table, hooting and laughing until it appeared they might fall out of their chairs.  Finally, their dad had it and slapped the table shouting, "Enough!"  



After that, it was obvious that Susan hated her now.  She seldom went for longer than a quarter hour all day long without berating Calle.  The children only stayed in the house to eat, then took off running.  Not even Johnnie could calm her down.  But it was her threats, not only to her, but to her whole family as well that finally made Calle have a picnic every day down by the stream so the children would not have to listen to their mother's crazy talk.  One evening when Susan was especially riled up, Johnnie brought blankets out so she and the children could sleep in the barn.  "It's a cowboy campout," he told them with a forced smile before forking down clean hay to sleep on.  They could still hear her, but not nearly as well.  Calle sang the children to sleep trying to drown out the woman's voice.

One afternoon as they enjoyed their picnic away from the house , Joel suddenly stood up saying, "I smell smoke!"

Calle suddenly smelled it too as she stood with Bitsy in her arms only to see black smoke bellowing back towards the house.  Just as Joel was about to dart off to see, she grabbed him by his shirt tails.  "No!"  She shoved Bitsy into his arms and ordered, "You watch them, and don't let Jenny fall in the water." Calle pulled her dress up to her knees and ran as fast as she could.  But Johnnie had beat her there.  

"Where are the children?" he cried.  

"They are all down by the river," she assured him and saw the man slump with relief.  "I'll bring up the buckets, and you can pour it on the flames," she said.

"Susan," he gasped.

"Johnnie, your children need you." She pulled hard on his arm.  "Don't try to go in the house after her.  Just go try to open the window in your bedroom to get her to come out."

There was a sound of breaking glass just then as the heat shattered the windows and flames were licking out.  Johnnie was shouting his wife's name.  He tried to wrap his wet shirt over his mouth to go in, but by by then the flames were eating up their room.  It was hopeless.   

Calle pulled him away harder until he fell on his knees crying, "It's my fault!  I locked her in." 

"Johnnie, look.  Your room is where the fire is the hottest.  It looks like she must have started it.  All she needed to do was to break the window to get out, but was probably overcome by the smoke."

He looked up with red eyes to see that she was right.  The roof on that side just caved in with an awful roar.   Others started arriving helping to beat out the cinders before it caught the barn on fire knowing the house was a lost cause.

She knelt next to him to say, "I'm going back to see the children.  I don't want them coming  here to watch yet."  But when she stood, she looked over to see the children standing in a huddle stock still on the path to the stream.  

"Everything is going to be fine.  Don't you worry.  We'll go to your grandparents house tonight, all right?"

Just then Amos rode up on a mule shouting, "You killed her!  You murdered our daughter!"

The preacher went over to calm the distraught man.  But Johnnie just sobbed.  Tears were running down all their faces. 

"We need to go back to our picnic.  This smoke is too much for little Bitsy."

The children solemly filed after her.  As they sat, Jenny climbed into her lap softly crying, Janie and Joseph leaned into her crying a little harder, while Jed and Joel tried not to cry though they couldn't help it.  Calle was crying to.

"What about our ma?" Joseph finally asked, the question on all their hearts.

"I don't think she made it, sweetheart.  If only she had broken the window, she'd been able to get out, but I'm afraid it was her lantern that caused it.  We'll know more perhaps later.  But she's in heaven now, singing with the angels."

Jed said with a choked back sob, "That's too bad, 'cause she can't carry a tune in a bucket.  I doubt the angels will take kindly to her joining in on their singing."

"Oh, in heaven, everyone will have a beautiful voice and a happy heart."

"Will she miss us?" Jane sniffed.  

Little Jenny who didn't understand patted her sister on her shoulder sweetly saying "It's okay, Janie."

"Of course she will, but she'll also be waiting for you up in heaven, sweet heart."

Joel broke in with an angry scoff, "She kept threatening to burn the house down, and so she finally did it.  I hope she's happy now."

Calle reached over to stroke his sweaty hair away from his face and said soothingly, "Just because your ma had an illness that tortured her mind didn't mean she didn't love you.  She was..." Calle groped for something to say, "she was like a wounded animal trying to scratch at everyone who tried to help her.  She's out of her pain now."

"Is Pa okay?" Jed asked with a quaking voice.

"Yes, but he's as sad as you all are."

"Will we get a new house?" Joseph asked.

"I wouldn't be surprised but that the church folk will all come help your pa rebuild."

Just then Bitsy started crying.  She was hungry and there was no milk."

"Joel, I need you to run to the neighbors and ask them for some goat milk though you might have to borrow a bucket," she  said.  "Can you do that for Bitsy?" She knew that the boy needed something useful to do in all their chaos.  It wasn't long before he was back with a pail full.  Fortunately, Calle still had the bottle she'd brought to the picnic.

When the fireflies began winking in the dusk , their pa came striding down the path.  He broke into a run to embrace his children as they ran to him.  They all cried without holding it back this time.  Even Bitsy woke up and tried to join in before being lulled back to sleep.

"Come on, sweethearts.  Your grandparents want us to come stay with them.  Grandpa's here now with the wagon."

As they went up the path, Calle folded up their picnic cloth and took the basket full of crumbs.  It was odd that it was all that was left of their household belongings.  Yet, they were special because they represented the safety found in a simple picnic along the banks of the trickling stream.

Once at Aunt Margaret's, pallets were laid out while the big boys were sent out to sleep in the barn.  Bitsy started to cry, but Calle found her bottle and was able to settle her down again.  Soon it was only the weary adults still awake.

"Calle, tomorrow we'll send word about what happened so  your parents will come for you."  Then she lowered her voice, "But I need to ask you a favor, even though I haven't spoken to Johnnie yet."  She looked over to where her son sat talking with his father before she went on. "Since we don't have enough room for everybody, I was wondering if you could take Bitsy and the girls home with you, at least until the cabin is rebuilt, that is if Johnnie agrees to it."

She didn't know what to say at first, but suddenly she knew without a doubt that they would welcome any and all of the children.  Her sisters would love the little girls, and her ma would relish loving up on the sweet things. "Yes, of course!"  Now that she was excited, she dreaded to think if Johnnie would say no.

At breakfast, Johnnie looked over at her and asked, "Did my mother ask you yet?"

"Yes, and we would be happy to do that for you, I'm sure."

"Well, I'll feel better if I can ask your pa when he comes."

"About what, Pa?" Joel asked.  He seemed unusably tuned into the adult's conversation.

"I'll tell you later, son."

Just then there was a knock at the door.  One of her half-grown cousins went to answer and loudly hollered over his shoulder,  "It's another one of your callers, Calle."  Then the brothers sniggered until their father gave them a stern look.

Calle was flabbergasted.  She had no idea who it would be, but dreading that it could be Dale or Teddy back.  However when she went to the door, she felt tingly all the way down to her toes.  It was Beau Findley, of all people.

"What are you doing here?" she gasped, then thought better of it.  "I'm sorry, that was rude.  I'm just so surprised to see you.  Please come in."

"Well, I happened across your pa the other day, and mentioned I'd be coming to get a horse from my uncle's ranch here.  So he asked if I'd mind bringing you home for at least a visit."

As he came in, she said, "This is Beau Findley from back home."
Her aunt guided him in to their breakfast table and put a cup of coffee in his hand.

"Can I get you a plate, young man?  Are you kin to the Arthur Findley's " she asked.

He looked away from Calle to answer, "I just had a big breakfast with them, but thanks anyway.  And yes, they are my aunt and uncle."

Then his eyes fell back upon her.  She knew she was a sight.  They all still smelled of smoke since there were no new clothes to be had.  Calle didn't even have a hairbrush.  

"I heard about your tragedy, sir," he said looking over to Johnnie whose hair was practically standing up on end.  "I'm just sorry I arrived too late last night to help y'all out.  My aunt figured I'd find Calle here."

"Thank you," he replied in a voice still hoarse from all the smoke the day before.  "I'm just thankful that Calle kept my children safe."

"So, Calle, have you considered coming back with me?"

Calle stumbled over her words, "Yes, but..." she said looking over at Johnnie.

Suddenly the little girls cried out, "Don't go, Calle!  Please don't go!"

Cousin Johnnie said, "Let me talk with them.  Excuse me for a minute, Mr. Findley."

"Girls, come with me."

He knelt down beside them where they all could see him in the other room.  Jenny and Janie wrapped their arms around his neck and were crying.  But finally they stood back and nodded their heads.  He kept his hand on each of their shoulders as they walked back into the kitchen as he then asked, "I was wondering, Mr. Findley, if you'd be willing to take back these two girls and their bitty baby sister so that Calle can watch over them at her parents while the new house is being built."

"What?" Joseph and Jed said almost in unison.

"Why can't they stay?  How come Miss Calle has to leave in the first place?" Joel asked scowling.

"She needs to go back to her family, but will take fine care of your sisters until I can come get them.  Will you boys help me as we build the new house?" He asked his boys so they would rise to the challenge.  It didn't matter if they got in the way more than helping.

"Certainly, sir.  There's plenty of room in my wagon.  I just have my new horse tied to the back."

Aunt Margaret spoke up, "Remember, boys, school starts soon, and living here in town makes it so much easier for you to get there.  Even Joseph can go this year."

Joel still scowled though Jed and Joseph looked happy about it.

Calle stood up to go pack, then realized she didn't have anything to pack, that is except for the baby's necessary things.  "I guess there's enough goat milk left in the pail for Bitsy to use on the way, but we don't have enough nappies."

"I can cut a few old towels up to make do with on the trip, even if there's no time to hem them," Aunt Margaret offered jumping up.  Then she ordered her two sons saying, "Boys, one of you go get that pail of goat milk for Bitsy from the spring house while the other can go pound on the door of the mercantile until they answer.  Have them get you a couple more bottles for Bitsy.  Tell him he can charge it to our account."

While they were waiting for them, Calle went over and hugged each of the boys.  Joseph and Jed had tears in their eyes and clung to her for a second.  Even Joel allowed her to hug him.  Then their sisters hugged their brothers.  Finally, they hugged their pa again with more tears.   Beau stood by the door turning his hat round in his hand.


Finally they were on the road.  It was already turning into a sweltering day, but Calle kept her straw hat over Bitsy so she wouldn't get sunburned.  The girls were quiet at first then leaned over from the wagon bed.  They began chattering asking her all kinds of questions about her sisters and brothers, about her ma and pa, about their house, and asking if they had puppies or kittens or horses.  Beau kept looking over at her with a grin which made her blush.  She hoped he would only think it was a flush from the heat.

"Calle, do you think I can go to school with Laura and Nell when it starts," Janie asked.

"Of course you can," Calle said with assurance.

Little Jenny piped up saying, "Cowie, I wanna go to school too!"


"Oh, but I want you to stay home with me and my ma.  We'll need you to help make cookies for us all to eat when the girls come home from school," she smiled then added,  "We'll make sure my brothers don't eat them all."

Soon the girls got comfortable, Janie on a bag of flour and Jenny on a bag of sugar and fell asleep.  

Little Bitsy picked that time to begin to fuss for a bottle.  As she gave it to her, 
Calle softly quoted a verse from I Peter...

"As newborn babes, desire the sincere milk of the word,

that ye may grow thereby:

If so be ye have tasted that the Lord is gracious."

Beau looked gently down at Bitsy and said a quiet, "Amen."

Calle glanced over her shoulder to make sure the girls bonnets were covering their faces to keep them out of the sun.  Still she worried and said, "I hope Jenny doesn't have an accident and ruin your ma's sugar."

"Don't worry.  I can get another bag as long as you promise to save me some of those cookies you were talking about," he grinned while she blushed.  "Besides, it's not my ma's bag of sugar, but mine.  I have my own place now that I'm beginning to farm.  I'm growing hay, but hope to raise horses.  That's what this horse is for," he said as he looked back at the one tied to his wagon.

"Truly?" she said in amazement.  "That is so wonderful for you.  I guess a lot happened while I was gone."

But turning serious, he continued in a hushed voice, "You sure did a hard thing going to help your cousin.  The way Dale and Teddy described it, it sounded so awful and not something anyone would choose.  I don't think I could have handled it, but you did.  I am amazed by you.  You're one brave gal."  He turned and caught her eye to make sure she knew his sincerity.

"I'll admit it was a very hard thing to do.  But the children are safe now and hopefully will build happier memories.  That was the very hardest thing of all, just thinking about the horrid strain they were going through."

"I can't believe Teddy, or Dale even had the gall to come calling on you," he growled. 

"I knew my pa wouldn't have sent them.  It was a miracle that when Dale got too close for comfort and refused to leave, that Johnnie happened to come home just in time to throw him out," Calle admitted with a shiver.  "And don't even get me started on Teddy."

As she patted his arm to reassure him, she found it tense and hardened with muscle, so she quickly added, "No harm done."

But Beau was like a dog with a bone and wouldn't let go until she told him about the whole scene with Dale and the awful spectacle at church with Teddy.  Soon they both were laughing so hard that they cried until Bitsy whimpered.  Fortunately, she soon settled back to sleep.

Just then Beau reached over to hold her hand.  She looked up at him smiling shyly.  "One of the hard things was leaving thinking that you'd become sweet on someone else while I was gone," she confessed.

He scoffed saying, "As if I was interested in anyone else.  Rather, I was like a dog on a chain, straining and pacing, waiting for you to come home.  As you can see, I like you Calle, a lot.  You were worth waiting for.  In fact,  it's the easiest thing in the world to be sweet on you, not hard at all."  His grin swept over her like sunshine sparkling on a river.

With a lump in her throat, Calle could only squeeze his hand.  If he didn't mind her smelling of smoke with two dirty little girls chirping like sparrows over their shoulders and her with a babe in her arms, then he wasn't hard at all to fall for, now and forever.  

Then she had a laugh in her heart just thinking about that favorite saying of her pa's that he oft repeated, "You'll be alright by the time you get married."  Well, she was definitely feeling alright.  That put an even bigger smile on her face as she looked over at Beau.  He lifted their clasped hands and put a soft kiss there.  It made her turn to mush allowing every hard thing that had weighed her down these past months to lift off her shoulders and disappear.