Bittersweet

“There’s hardly a piece of equipment in that mine I can’t fix, and I can mine more coal than most. Coal!” He laughed. “Smothering and sweating for coal!” He threw the yoke at the peg where it customarily hung. He threw too hard and bouncing off the crossbeam, it crashed to the floor. David pushed up onto his elbow. “I can work my way to Virginia City on the railroad, Sare.”

“David, don’t tease.” Sarah clung to his arm.

“Maybe I’m not.”

Her eyes started to fill. “You got to stay with me, Davie. Gracie’s little and hateful and Lizabeth’s just a baby.”

He gathered his sister to his shoulder, patting her back with his big hands. “Don’t cry; there’d be Mam and Walter.” She clutched at his shirt, crying harder. “Well, Mam anyway. Walter’s just Pa all over again. Or maybe Sam Ebbitt. You got your friend Karen. You and Karen get on real good.” David jounced her like a mother with a fussy baby. The tears poured down her cheeks. “Come on, Sare, don’t cry anymore and I’ll tell you something.”

“You don’t know nothing,” she sobbed.

“I do too-Mam told me. Swear to God.”

“Swear.” He did. She sat up, cocking her head to one side like a bird. “Now tell me.”

He started to climb down out of the straw. “Nah. I got to go.” She pounced on him, pulling at his beard, and he fell back laughing. “Okay, okay. Let go and I’ll tell you. There’s a new schoolteacher coming.”

“You’re not joking me, David?”

“Mam said. You calling Mam a liar?”

“A schoolteacher! It’s been forever.”

“Six weeks.”

“Almost forever,” she amended. “What’s he like, this one? Mr. Richardson was rumply and smelled.”

“You speak mean of the dead, they come back and get you.” He moaned and rolled his eyes.

“Don’t. You’re scaring me.” She pulled the straw behind him down over his face. “Mam say what he was like?”

“It’s not a he.” He caught both of her hands and held them out of mischief.

“A lady? A lady teacher?” He let go as Sarah scooted to the end of the stall and jumped to the floor to shake out her skirts. “No fooling, David?” She picked at the straw stuck in her braids, managing to pull as much hair out of the ties as straw.

“No fooling,” He slid to the floor and brushed off her back.

“You think Mam’d let me go over to Karen’s? It’s nowhere near suppertime. Karen’ll know everything. Her pa, Mr. Cogswell, is on the school board.” Sarah chattered as David followed her into the pale sunshine and pushed the shed door shut. A sharp wind, blowing out of the north, snatched it from his hands and banged it. Sarah pulled her top skirt over her arms and ran for the kitchen door.

The cold light showed the house to disadvantage; the wood was weathered gray and the screens were patched in half a dozen places. The house had been carefully husbanded over the years, effort taking the place of money, and was tidy and serviceable. A round face peeked at them through the kitchen curtains. Moments later the porch door opened and the doorway was filled by a short woman of considerable girth, with a wide, generous mouth and eyes warm with love and cooking.

“Where’ve you two been? Out without a wrap. Catch your death, I tell you. You stand there by the stove, Sare, until that color goes off your nose. Davie, close that pneumonia hole and stand here by your sister.”

“Mam”-Sarah squeezed a word in as she was shepherded to the big cook stove-“David said you said there was a lady teacher coming. Can I go to Karen’s?”

“Is Pa back to the mine?” Mam pulled back the curtain and looked around the yard.

“Where else was Pa ever known to go?” David said. His mother shot him a reproving look.

“Then I suppose your going won’t hurt,” she said to her daughter. “But you be here when your pa comes home for his supper. Tell Mrs. Cogswell not to let you be a bother, and bundle up good-there’s a storm blowing in.”

Sarah ran through the kitchen and into the back room she shared with her sisters.

Mrs. Tolstonadge laid her hand on David’s arm. “Go back to the mine, Davie. Your pa gets himself worked up, it doesn’t mean anything. You’re his oldest-he expects too much of you is all.”

He looked down on his mother’s worn, earnest face and the anger drained from his eyes. “I’ll go, Ma. I’ll walk Sare to the Cogswells’ on my way.”

“You’re a good boy.” She patted his arm. David slipped his heavy coat off a peg near the porch door and she helped him into it. “If you see Sam, ask after that horse your pa thinks so much of. He said it’s off its feed.”

“I thought Walter was seeing to that horse.” His back stiffened under her hands and Mam patted him comfortingly.

“Your brother kind of takes after Sam. He doesn’t think much of mollycoddling animals.”

“Pa never lets anybody ride it. He hardly rides it himself. I don’t know why he keeps it.”

“Your pa always wanted a good horse, a breed-more’n just a cart horse. A man ain’t like a woman, David; sometimes he needs to stand on a box to make himself feel taller.”

David grunted, almost a snarl. “You and the girls don’t have decent clothes for winter. Sarah’s wearing that blue thing you made for her two summers back. And he’s buying hay for a horse that’s too good to use.”

“I don’t mind,” Mam said patiently. “A man’s got to have something. It don’t cost so much. Sam lets Walter work off most of its keep.”

“You never see Pa dragging Walter down into that goddamn mine.”

“David!”

“I’m sorry, Mam.”

“Your brother’s learning farming. Your pa wanted it to be you,” she reminded him, “but you fought with Sam till he went and sent you home.”

Sarah bounded out of the back, pulling on her coat and buttoning it crooked. Mrs. Tolstonadge made a grab for her as she slipped out the door, but Sarah was too quick. “Honey, you’ve got Sunday buttoned to Monday!” she hollered. “You look like a ragamuffin.” Sarah waved, and slipped her hand into her big brother’s.

3

IMOGENE WALKED OUT ONTO THE WINDSWEPT PLATFORM AND, squinting against the blowing rain, listened for the crunch of wheels. The stationmaster poked his head out the door. “Miss? Joseph might be held up by this rain. I’m closing up here pretty soon; I’ll see you to your people if you like.”

Imogene smiled and thanked him curtly. “That won’t be necessary.” He held the door open and she stepped back in out of the wind. “I’d rather wait for Mr. Cogswell.”

The stationmaster, a wiry man with tobacco stains on his fingers, smoothed his thi

Imogene opened the door again and looked out. There was nothing but the lights from the houses on the far side of the tracks and the sound of the wind. The stationmaster waited for her answer. “I’m the new school teacher,” she said finally. “I don’t have any people here.” She sat down on her suitcase. “I’m afraid the only place I can ask you to take me is the schoolhouse.”

“Oh no, ma’am…nope. No.” He scraped at his brow with a smudged thumb, unfettering the hairs he’d pressed back. “That wouldn’t do.”

Imogene smiled. “Is it that bad?”

“Yes, ma’am, it is,” he answered gravely. Before he could go on, the door opened again and a man squeezed in, closing it quickly behind him to shut out the draft.

“Joseph! We’d about given you up for lost.” The stationmaster sounded relieved.

Joseph Cogswell was of medium build, about forty, with sandy blond hair liberally mixed with gray.

“Good to see you, Jackson. Storm slowed me up.” He turned to Imogene. He had a friendly, lived-in face. “You must be Miss Grelznik. How do you do?” He took his hat off. “We’re pleased to have a teacher come out here. Especially one that Will Utterback thinks so highly of.”