The Baby Bequest. Lyn Cote
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of the children inside then.
No child spoke but as they filed in, all of them looked at the backs of the two miscreants. A question hung over them all. What would the teacher do to Gunther and Clayton?
She was asking herself the same question. She knew that Clayton had been taunting Gunther for two days—subtly in class and blatantly on the school ground. She had tried to keep them busy and apart, hoping to prevent fisticuffs. She’d failed.
Now she went to the front of the classroom and faced her students. “I didn’t think I needed to tell any of you that fighting on school grounds will not be tolerated.”
“Are you going to paddle them?” a first grader asked in breathless alarm.
“The idea that I would have to paddle any one of my students is repugnant. I expect my students to show self-control in every situation. No matter what the provocation, fighting is no way to settle an argument. Gunther and Clayton will stand the rest of the day, facing the wall in shame.”
The same first grader gasped. Some of the children gaped at her.
“If any more fights take place, I will have to inform the school board and they will mete out corporal punishment. I am a lady.”
She added the last as her justification and she saw that her instincts had proven true. The other children nodded in total agreement. Miss Thurston was a lady, and ladies didn’t paddle students.
Dear Lord, please don’t make it necessary for me to talk to anybody about this.
* * *
Later, Ellen rose from the table at the end of another evening meal at the Ashfords, who had finally agreed to let her pay them for providing her meals. Ellen could cook over a woodstove but could only make tea or coffee on the hearth in her quarters.
Though the meal had been delicious, the pleasure had done little to raise her spirits. The lady of the house gazed at her questioningly and then glanced toward Amanda, who was clearing the table. Mrs. Ashford had apparently picked up on Ellen’s preoccupation and Amanda’s forlorn mood during the meal.
“I hope everything is all right at school,” the lady of house said with a question in her voice.
Ellen decided that everyone would soon know what had happened so she might as well be frank. “I’m afraid that two boys came to blows during recess this afternoon.” The fight had ended in a nosebleed for Clayton and a black eye for Gunther.
“It wasn’t Gunther’s fault,” Amanda declared from the doorway to the kitchen. “That Clayton boy was making fun of how he talks and calling him names all day. Gunther ignored it till the Clayton boy started saying nasty things about Gunther’s uncle and little Johann.”
Both Mrs. Ashford and Ellen turned to the girl, stunned. Amanda had never shown such spirit before. Yet Ellen wished Amanda had kept her peace.
“I’m afraid I can’t allow fighting between students,” Ellen said patiently. “Even if there is provocation. I must maintain order.”
“Quite right,” Mrs. Ashford agreed. Unfortunately, she added, “I knew that Dutch boy would make trouble.”
“It wasn’t Gunther’s fault!” Amanda stomped her foot.
“That will be enough sauce from you, miss.” Mrs. Ashford’s face reddened. “Now get busy washing the dishes before I wash your impertinent mouth out with soap.”
On this unhappy note, Ellen said her thanks and descended the steps into the deep honey of twilight. Since she’d moved into her quarters, a large room behind the schoolroom, she’d dreaded the lonely evenings, which gave her too much time to fret, which she began as soon as she touched ground.
What should she do about Gunther Lang? Why didn’t his older brother realize the situation he’d put Gunther in? Her mind drifted back to home and brought up her sister exchanging vows with Holton. How long did heartbreak linger?
When she walked through the trees into the schoolyard, she was surprised to glimpse Kurt Lang, sitting dejectedly on the school step, clearly waiting for her as his horse grazed nearby. Of all people, he was the one she felt least ready to face—she had no doubt he’d come to discuss the fight.
“Mr. Lang,” she said.
He jumped up and swept off his hat. “Miss Thurston, I am sorry I am come so late. But I know Gunther had a fight. Please, I ask—do not put him out of school.”
Ellen walked toward him, trying to gather her scattered thoughts. This disturbing man put her at a disadvantage. He was handsome like Holton, but he never tried to charm her like Holton. Mr. Lang reminded her more of a determined bull.
Nothing she’d said so far concerning Gunther had made the least impression on him. She knew in her heart that there was nothing she could do to help Gunther fit in—too much separated him from the other students. But how could she make this man believe her? See he was doing harm to his brother?
Glum about her prospects at persuading him, she sat down on the school step, facing the river. He sat down a polite distance from her. For a few minutes neither of them talked. Finally, she cleared her throat. She would try once more.
“I realize that you want Gunther to learn more English so he is better prepared for life here.”
His powerful shoulders strained against his cotton shirt. “Yes, that is so.”
Her heart went out to him, a man trying to raise a teenage brother and a little boy by himself. Nonetheless, why did he have to be so stubborn? “But Gunther is too much older and too sensitive about being different from the others. Making him sit with little children won’t work.”
“Gunther must learn to obey.” Mr. Lang’s words rang with deep feeling.
She tried to imagine what was driving this man to continue to put his younger brother in such a difficult situation. Maybe if she talked about her family, he might reveal something about himself.
“I have a younger sister.” She didn’t mention that her elder brother was full of himself or that she’d had a baby brother, too. It cost her enough to speak of her sister Cissy and what her sister had unwittingly put her through. She paused a moment, grappling with her own rampant emotions. “My parents made the mistake of always saying to her, ‘Why can’t you be more like your sister?’”
Where am I going with this? How is this being helpful?
She shook herself and then drew in a breath. “Nothing you do or say is going to change Gunther’s mind or behavior. The struggle is not between you and him. It’s really between Gunther and this new set of people, this new place.” She sighed.
Several moments passed before he spoke. “You speak truth. But Gunther is too young to know what is good for him.”
“Human nature will not be denied.” Each word increased her confidence that making the lad attend school would not end well. “Gunther is a young man and we’ve put him in a situation that wouldn’t be normal for any lad his age. You see that.”
“Yes.” Mr. Lang didn’t sound happy or convinced. He rose. “I will keep Gunther home tomorrow. I must go, and think.” He bowed his head politely, his unfailing courtesy impressing her once again.
“I think that’s best.” Ellen watched him don his hat and ride away. She stood motionless long after he’d vanished through the trees. Even after he had disappeared from view, his image stayed with her. A handsome, brave but troubled man. She wondered if his broad shoulders ever tired of the responsibilities he carried. The deep sadness she sensed in him drew her sympathy.
She shook herself and went inside, her own heart heavy. Never far from her mind were the charming words Holton had spoken to her. She reminded herself that she must stop noticing Kurt Lang so keenly. After everything she’d been through with Holton, the last thing she needed was to be the focus of whispers about the foolish old-maid schoolmarm.
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