Melinda and the Wild West (3 page)

“Bye, purty lady.”

Melinda’s stomach was all in knots. She
wanted to cry out of relief that they were gone, and yet she wanted
to give that outlaw a piece of her mind for the way he had
frightened everyone. So this was the Wild West that she had been
reading about. Melinda found out how wild the West really was, and
it was only her third day in town!

As soon as Elza Lay left the bank and headed
down the street on his horse, it seemed as if all pandemonium
erupted as Gray ran outside and alerted everyone, including the
sheriff and deputy. Melinda watched from the window as Deputy Fred
Cruikshank took off on his bicycle for home so he could saddle up
his horse. Attorney Bagley followed after him so they could
immediately take off together, while Sheriff Jefferson Davis called
for a posse, which only took minutes to do.

Melinda walked outside to watch all the
commotion. As they sped down the street, Melinda watched in awe as
each man passed her on his horse with a revolver buckled at his
hip.

Mackintosh walked up to her and said,
“You’re new here, aren’t you?”

She nodded and swallowed a lump in her throat
before answering, “I’m the new schoolteacher in Paris.”

“Well, this sure is a way to welcome a new
school teacher. Are you all right? You look a bit shaken.”

She nodded again as she wiped her hands
nervously against her skirt. It was hard to speak. Her mouth was
dry, her hands were damp, her face was ashen, and her mind was in a
whirl.

“You know, ma’am, the thirteenth was the
cause of it all.”

Melinda stared at Macintosh and looked
puzzled.

“Yes, the thirteenth. You see, today is the
thirteenth day of the month; it took place after the thirteenth
deposit had been made today in the amount of thirteen dollars; and
the robbery transpired at thirteen minutes after three
o’clock.”

Melinda felt that she had now been officially
introduced to the western world. Everything she had read in books
about the West was coming to life before her very eyes. The funny
thing about it was that she had expected an outlaw to look ugly and
mean, but Cassidy did not look that way. Melinda could not help but
wonder, what made a person go the direction that Cassidy did? She
knew parents needed help from others to keep their child on the
straight-and-narrow path. Where was the community to lend a hand?
Where were the teachers to help instill values? This was something
to think about. Melinda vowed that she would be ready. If she came
upon a child who needed help, she would be there.

It was the first day of school and Melinda
wanted to look her best. After dressing, she quickly ran downstairs
and into the kitchen for a bite to eat, and then out the door she
ran with her books in hand.

After arriving at school, she placed a notebook and
a yellow pencil at each desk. The color yellow was new. Usually the
pencils were wooden with no color at all, but the pencil
manufacturers had recently decided to color the pencils yellow for
a very good reason. The best graphite for pencils came from China.
American pencil manufacturers wanted to let people know that their
pencils contained Chinese graphite, and in China the color yellow
represented royalty and respect. So, American pencil manufacturers
decided to paint their pencils bright yellow.

Nervous, Melinda stood in front of her desk,
quietly awaiting her students. They seemed to trickle in one at a
time and then a few more came in bunches, laughing and talking as
they found their seats. They sat down and folded their arms,
staring at her and waiting for instructions.

The children ranged in age, and Melinda knew
that she would have to divide the children up to teach them.
Looking into their faces and yearning to be accepted, she took one
step toward the students.

“I’m Miss Gamble. I come from Boston,
Massachusetts, and I used to live by the Atlantic Ocean. How many
of you have seen the ocean?”

All of them shook their heads.

“Well, the beaches are usually full of
shells. And when you walk along the beach, you can find shells
strewn before your feet, lying on the white sand. If you take a
bucket along, you can pick them up and collect them. Usually they
are small shells and many are broken from the pounding of the
waves.”

Melinda held up a conch shell
for everyone to see. Then she walked past each of the students to
let them feel the smoothness of the shell. As she walked toward the
back of the class, she noticed the edge of a desk behind the
bookshelf. Peering around the shelf, she was surprised to see
a
young student sitting at the desk with her head lying upon
her arms, and her eyes were closed.

With a calm voice, Melinda asked, “What are you
doing here? Why is your desk separated from the rest of the
students?”

One of the students said in a condescending
manner, “That’s where she’s supposed to sit.”

“Why?” Melinda was startled by such an
answer.

“Our last teacher told her that she had to
sit there from now on and she can’t sit with the other students. He
said that she’s a troublemaker. She has to be out of sight until
she can learn to behave.”

Another student volunteered, “And she fights
with other kids, too.”

Another student stood and pointed accusingly
at the young girl. “And she doesn’t want to learn, either. She just
sits there and won’t say a thing. She won’t open her book and she
won’t do her lessons. She doesn’t write or read. All she does is
frown.”

Melinda was shocked that a teacher would
actually isolate this child from the rest of the class. She was
appalled that he would tell the rest of the students that she was a
troublemaker and degrade her in front of her peers. How could a
teacher do such a thing? What kind of example was he setting about
the acceptance of others? She was infuriated by this new
knowledge.

“No wonder she frowns. If I were treated like
this, I would, too. Class, I have put notebooks and a pencil on
your desk. Will you please write down your feelings about your
first day at school?”

Melinda knelt down and looked at the young
girl. She had opened her eyes and was staring at her desk in
defiance. She had on a very pretty blue-flowered dress and her
blond hair was neatly braided in the back. Her face was clean and
her blue eyes seemed angry.

“What’s your name?” Melinda asked in a
gentle tone.

The girl said nothing but just glared at
Melinda. She knew that this girl had been treated badly by another
teacher and now she must try to undo all of that in order to earn
this girl’s trust. Apparently she was taken care of at home because
she was clean and neat. But what was making her so angry? Was it
the rejection of the other students or a problem at home?

Once again, she spoke to the young girl. “My
name is Miss Gamble. I will be your new teacher from now on. What
is your name?”

The girl turned her head toward the wall and
did not answer. Rebelliousness was written all over her face.

One of the students turned around and said,
“Her name is Jenny. She won’t talk. She usually doesn’t.”

Melinda raised her eyebrows. So, this was
Jenny. Looking at the other students writing diligently, she
wondered what to do. Then, looking at the young girl at her desk,
she decided to try another method. Knowing that she needed some
private time with her, Melinda dismissed the students for ten
minutes of free time outside. The class cheered and ran out to
play.

After the last student left, Melinda looked
into Jenny’s eyes. “Jenny, what is your favorite color?”

Jenny stared at the wall, her mouth pursed
tightly in a straight line with her eyes full of defiance.

“Mine is pink and lavender. I like those
colors, so I usually pick them for my dresses. How about you?”

Still no answer.

“Is it blue? You have on a very pretty
dress, Jenny. I love the blue flowers. And you have very pretty
blue eyes, the color of the lake. Your favorite color must be blue.
Is that right?”

The hard, angry look in her eyes began to
soften. Jenny looked at Melinda and nodded curtly.

At last she got a response. That was a
beginning. Melinda stroked Jenny’s hair and said, “Your hair is so
pretty. When I was little, I wanted to have hair the color of
wheat, just like yours. But look what color it is. To have hair the
color of wheat is very lucky, Jenny.” At last a slight smile came
to Jenny’s lips. “Your hair is braided so nicely. Who braids it?
Your mother?”

Melinda instantly remembered that Aunt
Martha had mentioned Jenny did not have a mother. She had stuck her
foot in her mouth. The last thing she wanted to do was make Jenny
feel bad.

The corners of Jenny’s mouth gradually
turned up. “No, I don’t have a mother. Pa does it. I tried once but
it looked messy, so Pa says I’ve got to keep trying. He says to not
give up.”

Melinda was elated. She was able to break
the barrier between them. “Your father is right, Jenny.”

Melinda knew that her next question would be
personal, but she needed to know. If things were not right at home,
that could be another problem that Jenny would bring to school. She
needed to know if Jenny was mistreated or not.

“Is your pa a good father and do you love
him?”

Jenny’s eyes brightened with love and she
smiled at Melinda and nodded. Melinda could tell that Jenny loved
her father very much and she sighed with relief.

“I’m glad. Where do you live, Jenny?”

Melinda knew approximately where Jenny
lived, but she needed Jenny to talk to her. If she could get her to
communicate, then she would be making progress.

In a most quiet tone of voice, Jenny
answered, “On a ranch not too far from here.”

Melinda lowered her eyes and said quietly,
“I’m sorry about your mother.”

Jenny smiled. “That’s all right. I never
knew her.”

“So, Jenny, what’s your favorite subject in
school?”

Instantly the mood changed and the corners
of Jenny’s mouth turned down into a frown. She blurted out with
anger, “Don’t have one.”

“But there must be something that you enjoy
about school.”

Jenny’s frown remained and the defiance in
her eyes returned as she quickly shook her head.

When Melinda noticed that Jenny’s attitude
had changed, she decided to change the subject. Apparently school
was the wrong subject. She wanted Jenny to speak with happier
tones, so she decided to ask her about the people she loved. “Do
you have a grandmother or grandfather nearby?”

“My grandpa and grandma live in the East. I
don’t get to see them often. And my other ones live a day’s journey
from here and that’s my pa’s folks.”

“Do they want you to go to school and
learn?”

Jenny’s eyes looked down at the floor and
she had a sober look on her face. “Yes, they do.”

“Jenny, how about if we move your desk next
to mine and you can be my helper. What do you think about that? I
really need help at times, like passing out papers or books or to
have someone write something on the board for me.” Melinda touched
Jenny’s hand tenderly and asked, “Would you like to be my inkwell
monitor? I can help you until you learn the knack of it. I’ve got a
thick old apron for you to wear when you fill the inkwells so you
won’t get a stain all over your pretty dress. What do you say?”

Jenny’s face beamed with a smile and her
cheeks warmed to a rosy color. Then she nodded with a sparkle in
her eyes. Melinda could see the pleasure in her face as she looked
at her. This new assignment would help Jenny feel important and
give her self-confidence; and that was needed at this time.

Quickly, Melinda picked up the desk and
moved it next to her desk. “How about this spot, Jenny? Is this all
right with you?”

Jenny nodded with a smile. Then Melinda
placed a notebook and yellow pencil on her desk and said, “This is
just in case you might want to write something. It’s up to you.” In
giving her the freedom of choice, maybe she would not rebel against
learning.

Jenny nodded.

Melinda called the class in and everyone settled
down at their desks.

One of the students called out, “Why is Jenny
sitting there? She’s not supposed to. The other teacher placed her
at the back and she’s supposed to be there.”

Melinda saw how hurt Jenny’s face was at
that comment and it infuriated her. She had to stop this sort of
treatment immediately.

She said in a stern tone, “I’m the teacher.
Your other teacher is not here and I have replaced him. I have my
own set of rules. He has his. But my rules do not agree with
his.”

Then a thought came to her and she decided
this was a good time to teach a valuable lesson. “Class, I’m going
to teach you something that I learned at a church meeting one day.
I can’t remember who said it, but I believe you’ll get the gist of
it.” Melinda walked up to the board and wrote in large bold
letters, “I will love you even if you spit on me every day. I will
love you because you need it.—Anonymous”

She heard a few chuckles and giggles come
from the students as she wrote on the board. Turning to look at the
class, she asked them, “What does this mean to you?”

One student raised his hand. “It means that
if someone is mean to you, you should still love him.”

“You are correct. Everyone needs love. If
someone hurts us or spits on us, then maybe he needs more love
because he’s hurting inside and we don’t know it. Maybe he’s being
rude or mean just to hide his hurt feelings inside. Do you
understand?”

Then she pointed to a young man and asked, “What if
you were asked to milk the cows and a cow kicked your bucket over
and spilled all the milk? All that hard work was for nothing. Would
you be calm about it? I doubt it. Many times when things go wrong,
we strike out at the first person we see. And many times we strike
out at the ones we love. In other words, those who spit on us need
more love instead of more anger. I want you to remember this and I
want you to learn to love every one of your classmates. Please take
out your pencils and notebooks and copy this statement that I have
written on the board. Then memorize it.”