Page 14 of A Groom for Heather
“The news is just so overwhelming.” Heather looked around. She could see the river between the two buildings and focused on the waves moving across the water. “That’s all. There is nothing wrong.”
“Good,” Millie said.
They walked beside a whitewashed fence surrounding the schoolyard. Heather could see the children playing inside the fencing. Bea and Barnaby Collins were outside tending to the cemetery that ran along the river. There was a small wrought iron fence surrounding the headstones.
Pastor Collins smiled and raised his hand to Millie. Millie waved in return. As his eyes moved to Heather, he dropped his arm and a scowl appeared over his face. Heather lifted her lips in the biggest grin and waved exaggeratedly to the pastor and his sister.
Through clenched teeth, she said, “You know his face is going to freeze that way.”
Millie laughed. “So will yours, Heather. So will yours.” They entered the schoolyard and Millie headed towards the door of the one-room building. “Are you coming in?”
The last time Heather was at the school it was the day the blizzard came. She was stuck inside the building with several students, Altar Pennington…now Laingsburg,and Millie for five days. They lived off soup that Altar made with meat bones Heather retrieved from the butcher and leftovers from the children’s lunch pails.
“I’ll wait out here while you go in.” Heather gave her friend a little wave. She walked to the far end of the schoolyard. She could see the whole river if she leaned over the fence just a little. Turning, she leaned her back against the wooden fence and watched the children play tag in the yard.
Cecily and Mary Rose shrieked with delight as Arthur held out his sticky hands and chased them around the bushes.
Heather watched as Pastor Collins raked up sticks and leaves from around the gravestones. Bowing her head, she said a little prayer of repentance and asked God to soften her heart towards the clergyman. She had just said amen when the cacophony of loud voices traveled up the river.
She leaned over the wooden fence, ignoring the picket as it pressed against the underside of her ribs.Thank goodness for whalebone corsets, she thought. She could see a commotion on the other side of the river as several men on horses climbed aboard the ferry. Heather squinted her eyes as the yelling continued near the depot. She hoped the squinting would make her sight better. As she made out the shapes, she dropped her reticule in the mud.It couldn’t be!
“Millie!” she yelled, leaning over to retrieve her bag. She ran towards the school building. “Millicent!”
“What is it, Mama?” Cecily said. Arthur ran into the back of her with a thud.
“Why did you stop, Cece?”
“Children, I need all of you to get into the schoolhouse immediately.”
“What is it?” Cecily asked again, panic evident in her voice.
Heather placed her hand on Cecily’s back and nudged her toward the school. “Please just listen to me.” She grabbed Mary Rose’s hand, not caring that she would soon be coated in the sticky mess. “Let’s go.”
Millie opened the door. “Why are you yelling, Heather?”
The sound of yells was getting louder through the town.
Heather shoved the children into the schoolhouse. “I need you to stay here, Millie. Don’t open the door unless it is someone you know.”
“What is going on, Heather?” Millie cocked her head as she listened to the words coming over the town. “Are they yellingIndians?”
“Who’s yelling Indians?” Arthur popped his head from behind Millie’s skirt. “I wanna see.”
“I want you to stay here with Miss Millie, young man. I’ll be back for you shortly.”
“Heather, you can’t go down there.”
“There is a white man with them, and it looks like he is injured.”
“Oh my!” Millie said. “We’ll be here.” She closed the door and as soon as Heather heard the lock click, she picked up her skirt and started running back towards the end of town.
Men were starting to gather near the riverbed, many with rifles in their hands. She spied women and children running up the side streets back toward their houses. Several women remained behind the line of men, standing on tiptoes as they tried to peek out to the river.
Heather raced forward, knocking people out of the way. She was out of breath when she finally arrived at the edge of the ferry landing. “What’s going on?” she yelled to Michael Darcy, Last Chance’s only lawman.
“Looks like Indians are trying to cross the river.” He never removed his eyes from the ferry.
“That doesn’t make sense. If they were coming this way, they’d cross further downstream where the water is shallow.”
