Undaunted Hope (14 page)

Percival looked over his shoulder at Samuel. At the sight of his wide innocent eyes, Percival muttered under his breath and took a step back from her.

Tessa didn't wait for another opportunity to maneuver away from him. With her heart pounding, she hurried toward the door. She had to get out of the schoolroom. Now. While she still had the chance.

At that moment, a strong gust pushed the door wide and sent in a swirl of snow and wind. A white apparition stepped inside and shoved the door closed behind him. Shaking his head
and unwinding the snow-covered scarf that covered his face, Tessa almost collapsed with relief to see Alex. His troubled eyes found her first. But a glance at Percival behind her turned the concern into frigid anger. “With the storm coming on so quickly, I came to make sure Tessa got home safely,” he said firmly.

“No need,” Percival said. “That's what I was doing.”

“I have my dogsled,” Alex said. “I'll be able to get her home the fastest.”

Percival's nostrils flared and his jaw flexed.

“Even in these whiteout conditions, you know my dogs can get me anywhere I want to go.” Alex went to Percival and grabbed Tessa's coat.

Percival didn't relinquish it, but instead glared at Alex. Alex stared back. All Tessa could do was hold her breath and pray the two didn't start swinging fists. After a long moment, Percival shoved the coat against Alex's chest.

Alex took it without another word. He crossed to Tessa, handed her the coat, and pulled an extra scarf from his coat pocket. “Put this on over your face.”

She wasted no time. Within seconds she was bundled and Alex was escorting her out of the school. As she plunged into the dark night, the wind slapped the exposed flesh of her face with a sting that took her breath away. It was coming off the lake with a bitter dampness that was different from the land breezes she was accustomed to, and it was blowing the snow sideways with a blinding ferocity.

With the darkness and the snow, the world had disappeared. She stumbled forward, stretching out her hands to feel her way. Thankfully Alex's grip on her arm was firm, and he guided her
until she bumped into a curved sled. He maneuvered her to a narrow bench, then squeezed onto the seat in front of her.

His call to the dogs was lost in the wind, but apparently they still heard him because the sled lurched to a slow start. She grabbed on to Alex to steady herself. The howling and slicing wind made any conversation impossible, as did the scarves over their mouths. Even if she'd wanted to talk, she wasn't sure she could manage past the rattling of her teeth.

Within minutes the sled slowed and Alex was helping her to her feet. For an interminable moment he led her in what seemed like circles. Finally a door opened, and they stumbled into the Rawlingses' brightly lit front room.

All the rambunctious boys crowded around them. She peeled away the scarf and coat, which were frozen stiff.

“Are you all right?” Alex asked over the heads of the two little ones clinging to his snow-covered coat. His eyes probed her, and she knew he was referring more to her encounter with Percival than to the ride in the blizzard.

“I'm just glad you came when you did.” She dreaded to think what might have happened if he hadn't arrived. Or if Samuel hadn't been there to distract Percival.

“For now you'd better not be anywhere alone. Stay where you're surrounded by people. You'll be safer that way.”

“I'll be fine,” she countered, not willing to admit that something about Percival scared her to the core. “I'll start carrying a knife, and if that man touches me, I'll hack off his fingers.”

Alex didn't laugh; he didn't even smile. “Did he touch you?” His voice sounded strained.

“No. He didn't.”

Alex held her gaze as if testing the truth of her words. She had the feeling he would have raced over, blizzard or not, to
confront Percival if he had touched her. And when angered, there was no telling what Percival might do.

Maybe Alex was right. Maybe she'd be safest for the time being if she kept herself surrounded by her students and other women. Then she'd be able to keep Alex safe too. She didn't want to think what Percival might do if Alex angered him.

T
he storm lasted for three days. By the time the snow stopped falling, it had drifted in piles four feet high. Tessa had to cancel school for nearly a week because the snow blocked the roads. Some of the men with their teams of horses had begun to break paths to reach those families who ran out of firewood and had no way to stay warm.

Mr. Rawlings and his oldest boys had been among the men attempting to make the roads passable. Every evening they came back with tales about someone hurt by the cold, including one of the neighbors who was suffering from delirium tremens because he hadn't been able to get to the tavern. In his shaking and state of withdrawal, he'd gone outside for too long, had frozen his hands and would likely lose all his fingers as a result.

By the end of the week, Tessa was more than ready to return to her classroom. It was a great relief that the following Monday the roads were finally clear. The wind was still blowing strongly from the north and coming off the lake. Although the thermometer read ten degrees, it felt like minus twenty. The houses and
school remained half buried in the snow, and the evergreens bent low under the weight of so heavy a burden.

Nevertheless, she reopened the schoolhouse. Only a quarter of the scholars came to class since the snow was too deep for the younger ones to walk through. By midweek, however, most of the students had returned and were studying diligently again.

The days off due to the weather only served to show her how much she'd grown to love her job and how much she missed it when she wasn't there. In spite of the demands of her work, the large numbers of students, the continued lack of school supplies, and the challenges of meeting so many different needs, Tessa realized that she thrived when she was in the classroom. She loved listening to the young eager voices attempting their recitations. She loved the faces that lit up after finally understanding a difficult arithmetic problem. And she was deeply satisfied when several of her older students who'd had trouble reading finally made progress.

After another week passed, she sent home word with the children to inform their parents and older siblings that she would resume the evening classes. When darkness fell and she arrived at the schoolhouse, Michael was already there as usual replenishing the wood supply and refueling the stove.

“I see you're getting around fine on the snowshoes,” he said as she unlaced them at the door.

“I don't know how I would have gotten by without them,” she said, wiggling her frozen toes. Her boots were hardly warm enough for the northern temperatures, and her feet were usually frozen within minutes of leaving home.

Michael watched her with a wrinkled brow. “You need sturdier boots.”

“I'm not sure any kind of boot can keep my feet warm with temperatures like this.”

Michael didn't respond. Instead he studied her feet as if measuring them. He'd always treated her with the utmost respect and consideration, yet she hadn't developed the same camaraderie with him that she had with Alex.

“Gunnar tells me you took him ice fishing last week when school was canceled.”

Michael nodded. “The lake's frozen and safe enough for fishing now.”

She hung her coat and the scarf Alex had given her. “I'm surprised you don't freeze while you fish.”

“We have a hut set up on the ice above the hole.”

“That's what Gunnar said. But even so . . .”

“And warming boxes.”

She shivered every time she thought about sitting out on the ice for any length of time, even in a tiny shack.

Michael moved away from the stove, brushing his hands and looking at her warmly. “I can take you ice fishing sometime, if you'd like to go.”

“You're too kind to offer,” she said wryly, “especially since I've just been dying to try it.”

As she walked to the front of the classroom, she glimpsed the confusion on his face and she hid a smile. She had to remember to save the sarcasm for Alex.

She glanced at the clock and then out the window. In the darkness she expected to see the bobbing lanterns of the other evening students as they made their way to the schoolhouse. But there wasn't any light, not even a glimmer. “Where is everyone else?”

“Maybe they didn't get the news about classes resuming.”

“Maybe.” Although she'd been emphatic with her students to relay the information to their parents.

Michael took his place on the front bench where he'd faithfully sat for the past several months, always punctual and never missing a night. He'd made good progress and was reading almost as well as his children. She only wished Alex had as much determination to improve himself.

She took a moment to reorganize the spellers and readers on her desk and was relieved when the door opened.

Henry Benney stepped inside. He was breathless, clearly having run the distance to school. His hat was askew, revealing one ear that was red from the cold. His face was splotched red too. When he moved into the light of the room, she could see that his eyes were puffy and his nose running. Had he been crying?

Her heart lurched. “What's wrong, Henry?”

He swiped at his cheeks and gulped a breath. “My father wanted me to send you his apologies for having to skip class.”

“Skip?”

“Mr. Updegraff ordered twelve-hour shifts until further notice.”

The eight-to-ten-hour shifts were already long enough. But twelve? “That's horrible, Henry. Can't the men protest?” But she already knew the answer to that. Most of the men unquestioningly obeyed Percival either out of fear or the favors he doled out.

“My father said that maybe I could teach him from time to time.”

“Or maybe we could work out a different time for the class to meet.” But after twelve long hours in the mine, she doubted the men would have the energy to attend school. It had already been difficult enough to get a regular turnout.

The sadness in Henry's eyes told her he'd reached the same conclusion.

“I don't understand.” Frustration pooled in her stomach. “Why the extra hours now, in the middle of winter? It's not like the steamers are lined up waiting on the copper.”

Henry's lip trembled. “I think Mr. Updegraff is punishing my father in some way.”

Tessa frowned. “By making everyone work twelve-hour shifts?”

“If he makes him work longer, then he can't come to evening school.”

“That can't be right. Why would Mr. Updegraff care if your father comes to evening classes?”

Henry sniffled and wiped his sleeve across his nose. “That's not the worst.” His voice dropped and his shoulders sagged. “Mr. Updegraff told my father I'm too old to be in school, that I have to start work in the mine tomorrow.”

Henry's declaration hit her in the chest and knocked the wind from her. For a long moment she couldn't speak.

Henry's eyes welled with tears, and he quickly swiped at them.

“He can't order you to work in the mine,” she finally managed to say. “It's your choice, not his.” But again, after all she'd learned about Percival, she knew it wasn't easy for grown men to defy him, much less a boy.

“Father already told him I'd be there.”

It did indeed sound like Percival was punishing Mr. Benney. “What happened, Henry? Why is Mr. Updegraff doing this to your father?”

Henry shook his head. “I don't know.”

“What difference will one boy make?” she asked, growing
angry. “And why would he care if your father attends my evening classes?” As soon as the words left her mouth, it hit her. Maybe Percival wasn't punishing Mr. Updegraff. Maybe he was punishing
her
.

She'd started the evening class without gaining his permission. And now, after refusing his advances the night of the spelling bee, after telling him no when he'd ordered her to accompany him home, was he sending her a message? Was he telling her that he would rip away the most important things in her life if she didn't do what he said?

Surely he'd heard from Hannah and others that Henry was her best pupil, her smartest student, that he'd won the spelling bee. She had great aspirations for the boy and had even recently talked with Mr. Benney about college options for Henry.

“I'm so sorry, Henry,” she said, leaning back against the desk to keep herself from collapsing.

“It's not your fault, Miss Taylor. I figured I'd have to go to the mine soon anyway since my friends are already there.”

Her throated tightened. “This isn't right. You shouldn't have to go. I'll speak with your father and I'll most definitely speak with Mr. Updegraff.”

“Please don't do that,” Henry said, his eyes wide with panic. “Mr. Updegraff won't take kindly to it, and he might find another way to punish my father. Something much worse than just a few extra hours of work.”

Feeling helpless, Tessa stared at the boy. He was right. If she tried to interfere, Percival would only find a way to make things worse for this poor family, just as he'd done when Alex had interfered with the family he tried to help. Only this time, in the dead of winter, there would be no steamer to take a homeless family south. And she would have no savings to give them.

“If you really must stop attending school,” she said, scrambling to redeem herself, “then I'll meet with both you and your father for private tutoring.” It was her fault, after all. She'd done this to Henry and Mr. Benney. And now she had to find a way to make it up to them. “I'll come to your home to give you lessons, and you can study in the evenings.”

“Would you do that for us, Miss Taylor?” Henry asked.

“Of course I would. I'd do anything to help you continue your education.” She tried to put aside the thought that perhaps Percival wouldn't approve of her doing that either. Surely he wasn't so controlling that he would forbid it.

Henry nodded. “I'll talk to my father about it, but I don't know if he'll allow it.”

She remembered then that Michael was sitting on the front bench and waiting for the class to begin. She looked at him and found him regarding Henry with a gravity that made her heart sink further.

“Maybe there's a way you could pass lessons along to Henry secretly,” Michael suggested. “Perhaps send them home with his little sister in her lunch pail?”

Tessa wanted to scream out her frustration at the unfairness of it all. Instead she swallowed the bitter anguish that was hurting her throat. “We have to figure out something,” she said.

She wouldn't do anything to place Mr. Benney or Henry into more danger. She'd already done enough. But how could she let Henry go, not when he had so much potential?

If Percival could bring about such heartache after her rejecting him one time, what would he do the next time she told him no? Which family would he choose to hurt then?

“You're a good lass,” Alex murmured. He snipped the last of Wolfie's front claws and then gently set her paw down. She rolled onto her back and looked at him with her big black eyes. Soon it would be time to breed her. Last spring she'd only had four pups. If she doubled that . . .

He sighed. Their savings was accumulating much too slowly. He glanced at the small wooden chest on top of the sideboard. Even with the longer hours they were putting in with ice fishing, come spring when they sold their catch, they would still end up short on the amount they needed to pay for Ingrid's surgery and all the expenses that went with it.

If only he could find a way to earn more money.

The front door opened and closed quietly. Michael was home and as usual was sensitive to the fact that Gunnar and Ingrid were already in bed. Alex had tucked them in, something he got in the habit of doing since Michael had started attending Tessa's evening school.

“Come, Bear,” he said to the other big dog lying near the stove that was pumping out heat.

Bear raised his head, blinked at him, then gave a snort before lowering his head again.

“I know you don't like getting your nails trimmed,” Alex said sternly, “but you're not getting out of it.”

Bear's tail thumped once in protest.

“Come,” Alex said again.

Slowly the dog rose and moved toward him. As Bear approached, Alex could sense more than hear Michael's presence in the doorway behind him.

“You're home early,” Alex remarked.

Michael shifted. “She decided to cancel the class.”

In the process of reaching for Bear's front paw, Alex pivoted
and stared at his brother. A warning went off inside. Something was wrong, terribly wrong, if Tessa had decided to cancel her class. “What happened?”

Michael's brow was creased with the worry lines that had grown deeper in recent years. “Percival started mandatory twelve-hour shifts, and now none of the men are available to attend Tessa's class.”

Alex pushed off the floor, dog hair floating in the air around his legs. “Tessa must be livid.”