Authors: Shirley Raye Redmond
Amanda's Beau (18 page)
"When Beulah Johnson stopped by, she seemed to think she'd recognized the dog from somewhere else," Amanda said.
Ella's brows arched and she tugged at her shawl. "Beulah Johnson. She's never come here before. What in the world did she want?"
"She wanted to buy you out," Amanda said frankly. "I guess she figured you would move on after Randall⦠since you're a widow now."
Ella's pale face flamed with indignation. "That woman. I wouldn't sell to her for any price â no matter how generous of an offer she'd make." She wrapped her arms across her chest.
"That's what Rex said," Amanda told her with a grin.
"Besides, I'm not selling," Ella replied with a stubborn lift of her chin. "Why should I? This is my home. I'm staying put. Randall would never forgive me if I did otherwise."
When Ella began to shiver, Amanda noticed and silently chastised herself for letting Ella catch a chill. "Let's get you back to bed. You've been up long enough. It's time to rest."
"There are debts, I know," Ella said allowing Amanda to help her up from the rocking chair. "We used up our savings too."
"Shh, don't worry about that now. You need to get much better before we have a talk about money."
"Oh, Mandy, this has been awful for you. I know it has," Ella went on with a ragged sigh. "I don't know what we'd have done without you. If you hadn't cared for my baby girlâ¦"
"Let's not talk about it," Amanda interrupted, helping Ella down the hall to the bedroom. Her sister's steps were slow and uncertain, as though she was learning to walk again. Ella stopped suddenly. Her body became rigid and tense.
"Minnie⦠the dog. Should we leave them alone in there together?" Ella's red-rimmed eyes grew wide with horror.
Amanda's stomach roiled. Would they ever be able to trust Bonita alone again in the same room with the baby? "Stay right there. Lean against the wall, if you have to. I'll get Minnie and come right back."
Her pulse quickened as she whirled around, making her way back to the sitting room. She found Minnie lying quietly in the cradle, playing with her fingers. Bonita remained right where they'd left her.
"Good girl, that's a good dog," Amanda crooned. Bonita thumped her tail slowly against the floor. Scooping up the baby, Amanda carried her into Ella's room and placed her at the foot of the bed.
"What are we going to do, Mandy?" Ella asked.
"Do?" Amanda slipped an arm around her sister's waist and gripped her by the elbow.
"About the dog?" Ella pressed. "Do you honestly think she'd hurt the baby?" She sat heavily on the edge of the bed and allowed Amanda to tuck her in. With Minnie nestled snugly beside her, Ella added in a shaky, wan voice, "I couldn't bear it if anything should happen now to the baby. I couldn'tâ¦"
Amanda squeezed her sister's cold, trembling hands between her own. "Nothing is going to happen to the baby. I'll keep a sharp eye out. I promise. Let me worry about it, all right?"
"My poor, poor Rex," Ella said with a shudder.
****
The school day over, Gil put his grade book and pile of texts away, fetched his hat and short, worn leather coat, and headed out the back door of his small residence to the excavation site. He hoped Nate had taken the time to ride out to the Stewart place to tell Amanda about the skeletons, as he'd suggested over breakfast that morning. He had even offered his friend the use of his horse, stabled at Bergschneider's livery. Gil didn't consider Amanda to be a squeamish sort of woman, but it would be a courtesy to inform her all the same. He didn't want her to have a nasty shock if she visited the old chicken shed to check on Rex's progress with the potsherds, only to discover numerous human relics reposing on planks stretched across wooden sawhorses.
Nate had been amused by Gil's consideration. He had even accused him of being an âold nursemaid.' Over a plate of ham and fried eggs, Nate had regarded him with gloating eyes. "I think you're far more interested in the charming Miss Dale than you let on, Gilly boy," he said suggestively.
Gil had stopped eating. Yellow egg yolk dripped from his fork, poised in mid-air between his mouth and his plate. Well aware how his heartbeat had quickened at the mere mention of her name, he found Nate's perceptiveness mildly disconcerting. Did he want Amanda informed about the skeletons as a common courtesy? Or because of something deeper? Perhaps an unspoken desire to care for her, to protect her?
"You know what I think?" Nate had asked, giving him a furtive glance through those thick eyelashes that women found so appealing. For a brief moment, Gil felt a spasm of misgiving about sending his handsome friend on an errand to see Amanda again. "I think you're wearing your heart upon your sleeve."
"Nonsense!" Gil had exclaimed, hoping he didn't appear shamefaced.
Now, as he sauntered toward the site, he wondered if Nate had been right. Was he indeed wearing his heart upon his sleeve? And if so, would Amanda Dale guess his obvious feelings for her were more than neighborly ones? Of course, what he truly wondered was if her friendly interest in him was more than neighborly too.
Refocusing on the task at hand, Gil counted three, no four wagons and several teams of horses from a distance on the edges of the site. He could hear the sounds of men hammering as the workers shored up beams and doorframes in the old abandoned dwellings. Several men shoveled or hauled buckets of dirt to clear the site. Doctor Morgan stood on a slight rise watching the activity. The older man's arms were crossed against his barrel chest.
As Gil drew nearer, he realized the doctor was watching two boys scuffling underneath a cottonwood tree on the edge of the site near the river. Rex Stewart and Ozzie Lancaster. Again. He might have known. Apparently the Golden Rule exercise hadn't taught young Lancaster a single lesson. Gil picked up his pace, intent on breaking up the brawl. He was near enough to hear Rex gasp out a whoof when Ozzie thrust his knee into the younger boy's midsection. Rex doubled over, clutching his stomach.
"Hey, that's enough! Break it up!" Gil called out.
"Leave them be, Gil. They're not on school property this time," Doc Morgan insisted.
Gil checked his stride. "The Lancaster boy is a lot bigger," he pointed out peevishly.
Doc Morgan shrugged a shoulder. "That's life. Someone is always bigger and older, richer or smarter. Not all lessons are learned in the classroom, you know."
With uneasy concern, Gil watched the two boys, on the ground now, their arms and legs flailing. "I don't think Miss Dale would appreciate her nephew getting pummeled â again," he huffed.
Doc Morgan fixed him with a serious, steady gaze. "At the moment, I'm not concerned about Miss Dale. The young Stewart boy hasn't got a father any longer. Life isn't easy. Rex has got to be tough if he's going to make it through, and you know it."
Reluctantly, Gil agreed. Sometimes a man â and even a boy â had to stand on his own two feet. Would he be so eager to break up a fight between any two other boys? Maybe he was being overly concerned because of his high regard for Amanda? All boys got into scrapes. It was part of growing up. When Rex gained an upper hand in the fight, Gil felt a surge of guilty delight. The younger boy straddled Ozzie, pounding his face with his fists. Rex's angry face was as a red as a radish, his breath coming in spurts.
Enough was enough, Gil decided. He wasn't going to have either boy showing up to Sunday's spelling bee with bruises and black eyes, not if he could help it.
"Break it up! Ozzie, Rex," he called out, moving quickly forward before Doc Morgan could stop him again. Reaching down, he grabbed Rex by the collar of his flannel shirt. "C'mon, Rex. Stop it, I say."
As Rex loosed his grip on his opponent, his fists stopped flailing. Gil positioned himself between the two boys, expecting a burst of violence from the outraged Ozzie. Both boys, their eyes blazing, panted heavily. Ozzie lumbered to his feet. With a snort, he wiped his bloody lip against the sleeve of his shirt. He caught his breath and let both hands fall to his sides. But not Rex. He wriggled against Gil's grip and kept his fists balled up in front of his face. Stumbling to his feet, he braced himself for another punch.
"We're done, Mr. Gladney. It's okay," Ozzie gasped. "You bested me fair and square, Chicken Boy. I ain't gonna hit you again."
Rex scowled. But Gil, noting surrender and a new respect in the older boy's demeanor toward his opponent, intervened. "Calm down, Rex. Shake hands. It's over. You've made your point."
"He called me âChicken Boy' again," Rex gasped, gulping for air.
"Iffen I did, I don't mean nothing by it⦠not now anyway." Ozzie thrust out his dirty hand. "I'm done. You gave as good as you got." He said it with a resigned pout.
"Shake hands, Rex," Gil said, placing a firm grip on the boy's slim shoulder.
Rex stuck out a hand, as grimy as Ozzie's. The boys shook. Ozzie gave him a slow, lopsided grin. Rex only shrugged.
"Don't you have work to do?" Gil asked, addressing Rex.
The boy nodded and swept the hair out of his eyes. "Yes, sir. I was on my way to work when Ozzie came looking for a fight."
"And you gave him one," Gil observed.
Rex nodded. "I did." He grinned sheepishly, first at Gil and then at Ozzie.
Ozzie snorted and shrugged. But Gil could tell from both his posture and his expression, his animosity was spent.
"Well, you'd better get to work," Gil said. "And spend some time with your spelling book â both of you. Come Sunday afternoon, I want Doc Morgan over there," and he pointed, "to see you are capable of something other than brawling."
Both boys glanced over at the doctor. Rex raised a hand in greeting before trotting away toward the excavation site. He cast a suspicious glimpse at Ozzie as he went. Ozzie scooped up his cap and pounded it against his thigh.
Doc Morgan approached. "Good man," he said, thumping the boy on the back once or twice. Ozzie, startled, shrank from the unexpected praise. "Want me to take a look at that split lip?"
"I'll be okay. It ain't nothing." Ozzie plunked his cap on his head and hurried away toward the village.
"I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't witnessed it with my own eyes," Gil admitted. "He just gave it up."
Doc Morgan shook his head. "No, he didn't. He conceded. There's a difference. I told you all lessons aren't learned in a classroom."
Gil nodded. It was true. He guessed one never got too old to learn a lesson or two either â even a schoolteacher.
Amanda placed the basket filled with fresh-baked sugar cookies on the table at the back of the classroom. Some of the girl students had decorated the table in a festive manner with leaves, pinecones, and several jolly looking pumpkins. A platter of gingerbread rested at one end of the table, along with a bowl of apple cider punch and the popcorn balls Rex had been so eagerly anticipating. She and Rex had arrived at the schoolhouse in Nate Phillips' runabout a full thirty minutes before the spelling bee was to start. But Amanda didn't mind. It allowed Rex plenty of time to point out his desk and show her around the classroom. He was particularly eager to show her the table with the Indian relic display in the far corner. Benches had been brought in from somewhere and set up along the walls and at the back of the classroom to provide extra seating for spectators.
"Does Mr. Phillips have a sister?" Amanda asked.
Gil nodded. "Two, in fact. Why do you ask about Nate's sisters?" Gil responded. His blue-eyed gaze rested pleasantly upon her face.
"He told me that I reminded him of his favorite sister." She noted how Gil's eyebrows arched with surprise. "I'm sorry to say it, but I'm not quite sure I should believe everything Mr. Phillips tells me," Amanda added. "He likes to tease."
"You're not anything like Muriel or Josephine Phillips, I can tell you!" Gil exclaimed. He cut his eyes in Nate's direction. Amanda followed his glance. The handsome archeologist stood near the blackboard, discussing the rules of the upcoming contest with the pastor and Doctor Morgan. He still wore his long driving coat, but had removed his heavy gloves and goggles. A few other early birds had arrived also, two of them women with babies on their hips, Amanda noted.
"I can't imagine why he would say such a thing. Why, Muriel isâ" Gil stopped abruptly, his eyes now sober and mildly troubled.
Amanda relished his disconcertedness for a moment. Was he jealous? Concerned? Did he care about her in more than just a neighborly way? "Think nothing of it, Mr. Gladney. Your friend often says things in a casual, playful tone that lead me to believe he's making fun of me." She gave him her warmest smile.
"I can't say I like hearing such a thing," Gil replied, frowning. "He shouldn't tease you."
Amanda forced herself to laugh, trying not to think about the twinkle in Nate's eyes when he'd told her how much he liked her. Or so he'd said. "I'm sure he can't help it. As my mother would have said, he's full of beans."
One corner of Gil's mouth jerked up in a lopsided grin. "Indeed, he is." He still seemed slightly perturbed, and Amanda would have given more than a penny to know what he was thinking about. "Did you enjoy your ride in his automobile?" Gil pursued.
"Not as much as Rex did," she answered truthfully. "The vehicle is bumpy and noisy and went at such a quick pace, I had to hold my hat on my head."
When Nate had arrived at the Stewart farm, he'd requested Amanda sit next to him in the vehicle near the steering wheel. Having anticipated this, she outmaneuvered him by insisting Rex should ride in the middle between them.
"I could never forgive myself if he accidentally fell out of your machine," she'd confessed. And there was a certain truth in this. Nate had reluctantly let Rex climb in first. Holding the cookie basket with one hand, he had helped Amanda into the auto with the other. He'd given her a sharp, questioning glance, not unmarked by begrudging humor. She'd given him a bright smile in return. Two could play the teasing game, she'd wanted to tell him. But she didn't.