Buckeye Dreams (48 page)

Anne watched as Uncle Daniel paced in front of the parlor mantel after listening carefully to the news Patrick Howard had given him concerning Scioto. It had been a full day since Scioto’s injury, and Professor Townshend had sent the young man over to see how the poultice was doing. He had not given them good news.

“Why isn’t it working?” her uncle asked.

“Sir, your man hasn’t been applying it,” Mr. Howard replied.

Uncle Daniel stopped and stared at him.

“Why not?” Anne asked.

“He told me it wouldn’t work. He said all the horse needs is rest and a little liniment.” Mr. Howard scowled. “But I can’t find any evidence that he’s even been applying that.”

Anne watched her uncle’s knuckles turn snow white as he clenched his fist and tapped it against his leg. His other arm was in a sling. It was fortunate that her uncle had only severely sprained his shoulder when Scioto threw him. And at the moment, fortunate for Ben, too. Her uncle looked like he wanted to throttle him.

“Please be so kind as to ask Ben to come inside, Patrick,” he said after taking one more turn in front of the fireplace.

Mr. Howard left, and Anne watched her uncle resume his pacing. She was as worried about Scioto as he was—perhaps even more—but she couldn’t help but feel glad that all the fuss had kept Mr. Howard from asking about her “injured” foot. The questions it would raise would inevitably lead to her uncle finding out where she’d gone yesterday. She squirmed as she thought of how she had deceived both of them, but she hadn’t seen any other way around it.
I’m sorry, Lord. Please forgive me. I’ll tell Uncle Daniel what I did eventually. Just not yet
.

A few minutes later, a frightened-looking Ben stood before all three of them, twisting what might have been a hat in both hands. He looked so wretched that Anne couldn’t help feeling sorry for him. Her uncle must have, as well, for his voice held only a slight edge.

“Would you care to explain why my horse is still suffering almost a day after his injury?”

Ben refused to look at any of them. “I can’t really get near him, sir.”

Her uncle looked at her then back at Ben. “But you’ve been caring for him for almost a month and a half now. You told me weeks ago he was behaving for you.”

“I know, sir. I’m sorry; I really am. I just wanted this job so bad.”

“You should have said something,” Anne said. Tears rose in her eyes as she thought about how neglected Scioto must have felt. If only she hadn’t avoided seeing him for so long.

“If you can’t go near him, then how was it he looked so well yesterday?” Mr. Howard asked.

“I got up real early. It took me ‘til first light to get him ready and saddled.”

Her uncle drew in a long breath. “I’m afraid I’ll have to let you go, Ben.”

The young man’s shoulders slumped and his hands fell to his sides. “Yes, sir, I’ll go clear my things.” He turned to go, but Uncle Daniel spoke again.

“Your family isn’t from Columbus, are they?”

“No, sir, we’re from Celina.”

“If you decide you want to go back home instead of finding work here, please come see me. I’ll see that you get home.”

The news appeared to lighten Ben’s load a little. “Thank you, sir.”

“We need to apply the poultice immediately,” Patrick said after Ben left. “I wonder if you could help me.”

“Of course,” Anne replied, rising from her seat.

Patrick raised his eyebrows. “Thank you, Miss Kirby, but I was speaking to your uncle.” He turned to him. “Scioto wasn’t very happy with me either, sir. I know it might be difficult with your arm—”

“He should be fine if I’m holding on to his halter.” Uncle Daniel gave Anne a sympathetic glance. “Ask Mrs. Werner to heat up some water.”

“Not to boiling though,” Patrick said.

“I’m familiar with the poultice Dr. Townshend recommended, Mr. Howard,” Anne said, frowning slightly. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go speak with her now.”

A few hours later, she and her uncle stood outside Scioto’s stall as Anne tried not to fume over the slow, careful way Patrick had explained to her how to continue with the poultice. He’d left for his boardinghouse moments ago. Anne must have had a sour look on her face because her uncle chuckled.

“You’re sure you got all that now?” he mimicked. Anne gave him such a withering look that he held his free hand up as if to forestall a blow. “I must admit he went a little overboard.”

Scioto lowered his head toward Anne, and she laid her hand across his nose. “I should never have stopped visiting him.”

“And I should have made more time to do so.” Uncle Daniel rubbed the horse’s neck. “We’ll let him rest for the time being.”

Anne nodded. She needed to go in and heat more water to keep the poultice warm. “Who will take care of him now?” she asked as they walked to the house.

“Mr. Howard said he’d make enquiries, but he wasn’t very hopeful,” her uncle replied. “He said he’d do it himself, but his studies won’t allow him the time.”

“We can’t move him,” she said carefully. “With your arm and teaching schedule, you doing the job is out of the question, and Mrs. Werner is not particularly fond of horses.” She looked up hopefully at her uncle.

A deep frown creased his face. “I don’t like it, Anne. I promised your pa.”

“I know, but considering the circumstances, I don’t think he’d object.” Anne waited through a long pause. She was eventually rewarded for her patience.

“I don’t see how we have much choice.” He looked over his glasses at her. “I know you’ll take good care of him, but it will only be until I can hire someone.” His gaze turned thoughtful. “In fact, I may not have to look far.”

Anne didn’t let his last few words spoil her delight. She squeezed his good arm. “I understand. Thank you, Uncle Daniel.”

T
his is all my fault.” Peter sat on his cot and watched his boss pack his things.

“Don’t blame yourself, Pete,” Mike said as he worked. “I don’t.”

“But you never would have lost your job if you hadn’t hired me. You said the board wasn’t happy about it.”

Mike stopped packing and rubbed the back of his neck. “That’s not it, exactly.” He sat down on the cot next to Peter. “I kind of got myself in this mess.”

“What do you mean?”

“Those bills Harvey gave me a few weeks ago were supposed to be paid by me. Then the board was to reimburse me.” He paused, looking more than a little embarrassed. “I sorta forgot about them. And this hasn’t been the first time. The bills went past due and got sent to the board. Again.”

“Ah, Mike.” Peter said sadly. “I wish you had told me. I could have helped you remember.”

“Well, that’s not all. Before you came, I told the board how much money I needed for this term, and they gave me enough for two assistants.” He looked at Peter. “When Dr. Kirby spoke to me about you, I felt real sorry for you. So I paid you salary for two men.”

Peter ran a hand through his hair. He’d always wondered if his pay was too high, but since he’d never worked for someone before, he’d never questioned Mike about it. Now he wished he had. A knock sounded at the door and they looked at each other.

“I still don’t believe they hired him,” Peter said.

“I tried to tell them.” Mike rose wearily to answer the door.

Harvey Pryce walked in with his friend Frank. Both men were loaded down with wooden crates. “Humph,” Harvey said as he took in the one-room cabin. “Not much, but it’ll do.”

“It keeps the rain off your head.” Mike continued with his packing.

“I guess.” Harvey set down his crate and looked at Peter. “What are you still doing here?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be gone by the morning,” Peter said.

“I wanted to try and convince you to keep him on,” Mike said as he stuffed the last of his things in an old carpetbag. “He knows how things work around here.”

“I’m pretty sure I can handle it,” Harvey said.

Peter couldn’t stop the chuckle that escaped his lips. Harvey glared at him.

“I would’ve had this job sooner if me and the boys had given you a better lesson.”

Peter stood, his fists clenched tight. “Maybe it’s time I give you a lesson.”

“Pete,” Mike warned. “Don’t do it.”

“Ah, come on, Pete,” Pryce taunted. “Let’s have at it.”

Common sense quickly prevailing, he turned away from Harvey. “No. It’s not worth it.”

Harvey sneered at him then nudged Frank, who had also set down his crate. “Let’s go get something to drink. We’ll bring the rest of my stuff over tomorrow.”

“You start tomorrow,” Mike retorted. “How are you going to move in and do what needs done around here?”

“That’s my business,” Harvey said as he and Frank walked out the door.

Peter shook his head. “He really has no idea what he’s getting into.”

Mike nodded in agreement and set the carpetbag near the door, along with the rest of his things. “I guess that’s it for me.” He held out his hand and Peter shook it. “I’m sorry they don’t need you over at the shop.”

“That’s all right. I’ll find something.” As Peter spoke, a wagon pulled up outside.

“That’d be the fellas for me,” Mike said.

Peter followed him over to the door, picked up some of his things, and followed him outside. A couple of Mike’s friends had driven over to help him move to a boardinghouse near Columbus Machine Company, where he’d found a job. They jumped down and Mike introduced them. “This is Geoff Evans and Steve Brock.”

“Sorry to hear about your job.” Steve shook Peter’s hand. “I think there might be an opening where I work. I can check and come by and get you tomorrow if you like. It’d be around lunchtime. Think you’ll be here?”

Mike smirked. “Harvey wants him gone by the time he comes back tomorrow. But he and Frank went out drinking. Pete will be here.”

They laughed and soon had all of Mike’s things in the back of the wagon. “I’ll see if there’s a room at the boardinghouse,” Mike said as he climbed up. “I know the fella Steve works for. More than likely, you’ll have a job come tomorrow.”

Peter shook his hand. “Thanks, Mike. For everything.”

As the wagon rolled off, Peter stood outside, looking at the fading sky. A new job in the city would be an answer to prayer. He needed to leave the university. Dr. Kirby had been forced to fire his stable boy and had offered the job to Peter. As much as he wanted to accept it, he knew he shouldn’t. Then there was Anne Kirby. As much as he wanted to help her, there just didn’t seem to be a proper way to go about it. It also didn’t help that the few times he’d seen her in the last month she hadn’t seemed any better, at least in unguarded moments. She seemed normal enough when she was with her uncle, but on the few occasions he’d checked the pipes in the library, he’d caught glimpses of her dabbing her eyes.
Lord, You know all things and You know this situation she’s in. Lead her to someone that can help her. Restore her soul
.

A brisk gust sent him back into the house, and he put more wood in the stove. The weather had been unpredictable. The days had been pleasant enough, but the nights had been getting quite cold, at least to Peter’s way of thinking. He’d never liked being cold. He put another piece in for good measure then set about packing up what few things he had and making sure the log house was more or less in order. Lately Peter had been reading a passage in Romans about enemies. If being nice to Harvey Pryce meant that “coals of fire” would be heaped on his head, so much the better. He only wished he could do a few nice things for Uncle Randall and his cousin Edward.

He pushed the wood box closer to the stove. What about his grandfather? Did he desire the same thing for him? As much as he thought the answer should be yes, his heart didn’t agree. In the end, Granddad’s cutting him off had been a good thing. He was a better man now. The thought made him shake his head at himself. Was he really? He’d just wished the worst for three different people. When Dr. Kirby first pointed out that passage to him after Peter had been injured, he’d been quick to say it wasn’t about revenge. It was about forgiveness.
That’s something You’ll have to help me with, Lord. Forgiving them just isn’t on my heart right yet
. He set the last few things in order and fell into bed, not bothering to remove his clothes. The one blanket he had wasn’t exactly the warmest.

It was the heat that woke Peter later. Heat and the light from the raging fire that flickered up the wall opposite his bed. It had begun to spread to a good portion of the roof as well. He ran out the door, yelling for help. Several figures were running toward him from the direction of the student boardinghouse, some carrying buckets.

“Come on,” one of them shouted. “We’ll form a bucket brigade from the lake to here.”

“What about the fire department?” Peter yelled as they started for it.

“They’ll be here soon. We already sent someone to the signal box.” The student stopped and looked around in alarm. “Where’s Mike?”

“He’s not here.” Peter pulled on his arm. “Come on!”

But their buckets might as well have been thimbles. By the time they formed the line, flames engulfed the whole building. All they could do was make sure the fire didn’t spread. It was only after the fire department arrived with its steam-powered pumper that they finally took a break. Peter slumped on the ground, head in his hands, coughing from the smoke. How on earth had this happened?