The Princess Club / Family Secrets / Mountain Madness Page 11

  “They don’t belong in this school,” one of the older boys muttered. “They’s too stupid. Their kind got the brains of a half-wit rabbit.”

  “Who said that?” Christy demanded.

  Nobody spoke. Della May sneaked a glance at the girl named Hannah. No, she wasn’t crying. But she looked right scared. Della May wondered how it would feel if Lundy and the older boys were saying those things about her. They’d made fun of her sometimes, the way they did all the younger children. That was bad enough. But this talk had a meanness to it, sharp as a knife.

  Della May knew that if she was Hannah, she’d probably be crying buckets by now. But maybe these people were different. Maybe they didn’t have the same kind of feelings as white folks.

  “I want to make one thing clear from the start.” Christy went to the front of the schoolroom. “That kind of thing will not be tolerated in this room under any circumstances. The next person who speaks that way will be sent home from school for a week. And if it happens again, that person will be expelled.”

  “Teacher?” Della May’s brother, Little Burl, raised his hand. “What’s ‘’spelled’?”

  “Expelled. It means you can’t ever come back to school again, Little Burl.”

  The preacher walked over to the big boys in the back of the room. He had a dark look on his face, worse even than when he was preachin’ up a storm on Sunday mornings. He talked to the boys in a low voice. Della May couldn’t hear the words. But she could sure tell he meant business.

  Her pa had said it would be this way. The mission people siding with the Washingtons. Acting like they belonged here same as decent white folks. He’d said Miz Christy and Miz Alice and the preacher would be full of tales, just like Doctor MacNeill, but that the children shouldn’t believe a word they said.

  Christy searched the room. “We need to get you children settled,” she said.

  Della May sank lower in her seat. There was an empty desk right next to her.

  “Louise and John, there’s a bench on the left side available. And Hannah, why don’t you take that desk next to Della May, right over there?”

  Some of the children snickered. A few moved their desks.

  Della May looked around helplessly. There was nowhere for her to move. She was trapped.

  “You’ll be all right,” Creed advised. “Just pretend she ain’t there.”

  While Christy said goodbye to the preacher and Mrs. Washington, the girl named Hannah slowly approached the empty desk beside Della May.

  “You be Della May?” she asked in a soft voice.

  Della May gave a nod, staring straight ahead.

  “Then I guess this is where I’m supposed to be sittin’.”

  Della May tried to pretend she wasn’t there, just like Creed had suggested. But it was awfully hard to pretend a living, breathing person was invisible.

  “Maybe you and I could be friends,” Hannah said. And then something deep inside told Della May it was going to be impossible to pretend that Hannah Washington wasn’t there.

  Seven

  Hannah slipped into the desk. Della May sneaked a peek at her. Hannah had the same pretty brown skin as her ma. Her hair was caught up in two pigtails, tied with red ribbons. It was sparkly and dark and springy. Magical hair.

  “Want to see my pet mouse?” Hannah asked in a soft whisper-voice.

  Della May shook her head no. She could feel the eyes of the other students on her.

  “Maybe later,” Hannah said.

  Della May ignored her. Behind her, she heard the sound of desks and benches scraping.

  Della May looked at Creed. He shrugged. There was nowhere for him to shove his desk.

  He opened the lid a crack. Scalawag’s wet black nose poked out. Quickly Creed closed the desk, but not before Hannah noticed Scalawag.

  “You got somethin’ in there?” she asked Creed. “Can I see?”

  Creed shook his head no.

  Christy went to the blackboard. “We’re going to start the day with a discussion of your arithmetic papers.” A few students groaned.

  “Which, I am sorry to say, were not very impressive. Let’s start with a review of addition.”

  She picked up a piece of chalk. It squeaked as she wrote numbers in a long column on the board.

  “Creed Allen?” Christy called. “Why don’t you come up here and help me with this problem?”

  “I don’t rightly like sums, factually speakin’,” Creed said.

  “That’s exactly why I asked you,” Christy said with a grin.

  Creed looked over at Della May, worry in his bright blue eyes. He pointed to his desk. Della May nodded.

  “The rest of you,” Christy said, “work the problem at your desks.”

  Creed went to the board. He scratched his head, then took the chalk and went to work. Christy watched, her back to the class.

  Della May reached for her little, cracked blackboard. The class fell quiet as the students worked, heads bowed, on the problem.

  Suddenly, Della May felt a hand touch her shoulder. She jumped when she realized it was Hannah. How dare that girl touch her! She started to protest, but Hannah pointed her finger at Creed’s desk.

  The lid was opening! Scalawag poked out his head and blinked.

  Della May tried to push him back, but he was in no mood to take orders. In a flash, he slipped out of the desk and leapt straight into her lap. Frantically, she held the struggling raccoon in her arms.

  She had to get rid of him, and fast! But where was she going to put him? The lid on her own desk was broken.

  She glanced around the room. Everyone was working. Miz Christy’s back was still to the class.

  “You’re on the right track, Creed,” Christy said. “Keep at it.”

  With one arm clutching Scalawag, Della May reached over to open the lid on Creed’s desk. Scalawag squirmed out of her arms, straight into Hannah’s lap.

  Della May gasped. Now Miz Christy was sure to find out!

  “Almost, Creed,” Miz Christy was saying. “Can anyone tell me where he made his mistake?”

  Scalawag was sitting quietly in Hannah’s arms. She stroked him behind the ears, whispering something. Then she slipped him into her desk, easy as pie, just as Miz Christy turned around.

  Hannah grinned at Della May, a big, I’ve-got-a-secret grin. She raised her hand.

  She’s going to tell, Della May thought, her heart galloping inside her like a frightened colt.

  “I think Creed forgot to carry the one,” Hannah said, calm and cool as could be. “So the seven should be an eight.”

  “Very good, Hannah,” Christy said.

  Della May stared at Hannah, her jaw dropped in disbelief. Hannah gave her a little wink.

  “You can sneak him back later,” Hannah whispered.

  Della May didn’t answer. For the life of her, she didn’t know what to say.

  When it came time for the noon dinner spell, Creed and Della May and Hannah waited until everyone else had left the schoolroom.

  As soon as it was safe, Hannah opened her desk and lifted Scalawag into her arms. “He’s a fine pet,” she said, stroking the raccoon’s head. Scalawag made a soft purring noise.

  “Give him,” Creed snapped. “He ain’t yours.”

  “Creed,” Della May said, “like I told you, she hid him for me. Miz Christy woulda seen him for sure if’n Hannah hadn’t . . .” Her voice trailed off.

  “Here you go,” Hannah said, carefully placing Scalawag into Creed’s arms. “Does it have a name?”

  Creed shrugged. “Scalawag’s his name. But don’t you be tellin’ anyone ’bout him, hear?”

  “He’s awful quiet,” Hannah said.

  “He’s been feelin’ poorly,” Della May said, scratching the raccoon’s ears. She realized with a start that she was talking to Hannah, just like she was a regular person.

  Suddenly Scalawag struggled out of Creed’s grasp. The little raccoon scampered over the desktops. He stopped by an open window, s
niffed the air, then bounded outside.

  “Scalawag!” Creed cried. “Come back!”

  The three children dashed down the front steps of the school to the side yard. Scalawag was nowhere to be seen.

  “He coulda gone anywheres,” Creed moaned. “I’ll never find him now.”

  “Raccoons are right smart about things. He’ll come back, I’ll bet you,” Hannah said as she searched under some bushes.

  “Ain’t like him to run away,” Creed said. “He just ain’t been hisself lately.”

  Della May patted her brother’s back. She could tell he was about to cry. “Don’t fret yourself,” she said. “Scalawag’s your best friend. He’ll come back. He probably just didn’t like all that ’rithmetic, is all.”

  Creed frowned at Hannah. “Didn’t like somethin’, that’s for sure and certain.”

  Della May watched her brother stomp off. It wasn’t fair, exactly, blaming Hannah. She’d done her best to hide old Scalawag, after all. And Creed had been the one holding him when he’d run off.

  She looked at Hannah uncertainly. “It weren’t your fault,” she said at last.

  Hannah smiled a little. “I know. He was just bein’ ornery. Got me a brother just like him. Feisty as a stepped-on bee sometimes.”

  Della May tried not to smile back, but she couldn’t help it.

  “Creed’s all right. Most of the time.”

  “My brother John is all right most of the time, too. It’s those other times that’ll try your patience.”

  Quiet fell between them. Della May felt all twisted up and funny inside. She could almost hear her pa yellin’ over her shoulder about how she shouldn’t be talking to Hannah. But she sure seemed nice enough.

  Maybe she’d just keep up her guard, to be on the safe side. See how things went. Granny Allen had a Bible quote she was always saying—“ By their fruits ye shall know them.”

  Della May figured that meant she should give Hannah a chance. Judge her by the way she acted, not just by what others say, or the color of her skin.

  In the meantime, she wouldn’t say anything to her pa. No point in getting him angry and all riled up.

  Eight

  That afternoon, Christy rode over to Doctor MacNeill’s cabin on Prince, the mission’s black stallion.

  The doctor was on his porch when Christy rode up. “So,” he asked, “did the Washington children come to school today?”

  Christy gave a terse nod.

  “I’m almost afraid to ask how it went.”

  She climbed off Prince and tied him to a tree. “Let me put it this way. It was a long day. Longer still for those poor children.”

  “I’m sorry to say I’m not surprised.”

  “The older boys threatened them all day. Even when they didn’t use their voices, I could see it in their eyes. And the younger children—well, they just acted as if Louise and John and Hannah were invisible.”

  “Give them time. They may come around.”

  “That’s what Miss Alice said. But I’m starting to have my doubts.”

  “Come on in and sit awhile. You look worn out. What brings you here, anyway? Not that it matters. I’m always glad to see you.”

  Christy climbed the porch steps. “Well, Miss Alice asked me to pick up some more cough medicine. She’s afraid two bottles won’t be enough.” She leaned against the door jamb, smiling. “That could have waited, I suppose. The other reason I’m here is to tell you I’ve decided to accept your kind offer to attend the wedding.”

  Doctor MacNeill brushed his hand through his hair. He gazed at her doubtfully. “Are you saying you’ll go along with my little plan?”

  “No. I’m saying I’ll go if you’ll agree to tell James the whole truth.”

  The doctor sighed. “You drive a hard bargain, Miss Huddleston.”

  “You’d have to tell him the truth eventually, Neil.”

  “I know. I know. You’re right. I suppose this rivalry seems small-minded to you. Didn’t you ever compete with a friend?”

  “Mary Ellen Lanning.” Christy settled into the doctor’s old rocking chair. “She stole Gus Ricketts from me.”

  “Your first love?” the doctor asked.

  “You might say so. I was all of twelve years old. But I was still heartbroken.”

  The doctor pulled up a chair beside her. “Imagine the jealousy you felt toward Mary Ellen Lanning, and multiply it by a thousand.” He shook his head. “I know I shouldn’t feel this way. I made my choice to live here. I ought to be happy with it. And I realize it’s wrong to envy what James has. But still . . . don’t you ever look at those seventy youngsters in your class and wonder if you’d be happier somewhere else? If you’re really making a difference in their lives?”

  Christy stared out the window. Two mockingbirds were making a ruckus as they chased each other through the sky. “Of course I feel frustrated, Neil. Especially on days like today, when I can’t see any way to get through to those children. But there are good days, too—days when there is laughter and singing, instead of arguing and fighting. I try to concentrate on those.”

  “But the fighting doesn’t ever really stop, that’s the point. I patch up a man’s wound so he can go right back to feuding. I sell land to some good people, hoping they’ll be able to put down roots. And to what end? So they can be persecuted till they’re forced to leave?” He rubbed his eyes.

  Christy’s heart ached at the pain in Neil’s voice. She’d felt the same way many times, especially after she’d first come to Cutter Gap to teach. But it was harder to see someone she cared about suffer through the same despair and doubt.

  She squeezed his hand. “Believe me, Neil. God brought you back to Cutter Gap for a reason.”

  “I wish I had your faith.” He shrugged, forcing a smile. “But enough of this. We have some practicing to do.”

  “Practicing?”

  “Even waltz champions need a little practice now and then.”

  “You know, I seem to remember that on our recent trip to Asheville, you weren’t nearly so enthusiastic about dancing.”

  “That dance at the Barclays’?” The doctor groaned. “You were too busy dancing with your old beau, Lance, as I recall. The reverend and I stood in the corner all night like a couple of wallflowers. But I danced with you at the mission open house.”

  “That’s true. I regained the use of my toes after a few weeks.”

  “Actually, you said I was a wonderful dancer. And remember that night we danced alone by the fire, after you rescued Ruby Mae Morrison?”

  “Yes,” Christy said softly. “That I will never forget.”

  “No broken toes?”

  “None whatsoever.”

  The doctor stood and held out his hand. “I won’t forget it, either,” he said.

  Christy gave a little curtsy. “I’ll only dance if you promise to hum a real waltz.”

  “Strauss, then. Just for you.”

  Taking Christy’s hand, the doctor led her out to the front yard. Slowly they spun around the grass in graceful circles while the doctor softly hummed.

  It was so pleasant. Christy tried to forget about all the troubles that day. She tried to focus on the doctor’s low, soft voice. The sun, warm on her shoulders. The wind, making the trees whisper secrets. The air, heavy with the smell of honeysuckle.

  But every time she closed her eyes, she saw the frightened but determined faces of the Washington children. And the ugly faces of hatred on too many of her other students.

  Suddenly the pleasant calm was interrupted by the sharp sound of gunshots.

  One. Two. Three. Four.

  Christy stopped cold. “It’s coming from the direction of the Washingtons’!”

  “Get Prince. I’ll grab my gun.”

  Christy untied Prince’s reins. The doctor bounded from his cabin. In one hand was his gun. In the other was his medical bag. He strapped the gun and his bag behind Prince’s saddle, then leapt onto the stallion.

  He took Christy’s hand a
nd lifted her up. “Hang on,” he instructed as she settled behind him.

  She wrapped her arms around his chest. They headed down the path toward the Washingtons’ as fast as possible, dodging low tree limbs and bushes along the way.

  They’d almost reached the cabin when they saw Hannah running toward them, waving her arms frantically.

  “They shot John!” she cried. “They shot my brother!”

  Nine

  When Christy and the doctor reached the Washingtons’ front porch, they found Margaret and Louise tending to John. His right arm was bleeding just above the elbow.

  “Ain’t nothin’ but a scratch,” John said. His voice was calm, but Christy could see the terror in his eyes.

  “Scratch!” Margaret said furiously. “A few more inches the wrong way and it coulda killed you!”

  Doctor MacNeill and Christy climbed off Prince. She retrieved the medical bag while the doctor examined John’s arm.

  “What happened, Hannah?” Christy asked.

  “Ain’t sure.” Hannah’s lower lip trembled. “Me and John was in the yard. All of a sudden we heard someone in the woods out yonder. They started firin’, and we went runnin’. I fell in the dirt. Violet was in my pocket. Nearly crushed the poor ol’ thing.”

  “You’ve just got a flesh wound, John,” Doctor MacNeill said. “You’re a lucky boy.”

  “Lucky,” John repeated bitterly. “Yes, sir. I s’pose I’m lucky they didn’t kill me outright.”

  “How could anyone do this?” Margaret demanded. “We haven’t bothered anyone. This is our land, right and proper.”

  Hannah tugged on Christy’s arm. “Why would somebody go shootin’ at me and John, Teacher? I done tried to make friends at school today.”

  “I know you did, Hannah.” Christy knelt beside the little girl. “Did you see who was shooting? Do you have any idea who did this?”

  “Thought I seen a gray horse back in the woods,” Hannah said. “But it’s hard to say.”