asked about the school. No, this will be the first term.â
âDoes Mr. Grantland live here, in the mission house?â
Miss Ida shook her head. âHe has a bunkhouse, down by the creek. Thatâs why itâs lucky you fell in there. He and Miss Alice take their meals here in the house, though.â She smiled proudly. âDavid begged me to come and keep house for him. He says maybe we can find a mountain woman to train as a housekeeper. But I have doubts myself that anybody else can cook to suit him.â
Just then the side door banged and suddenly Mr. Grantland stood in the kitchen doorway. A young girl with snarled red hair peered curiously from behind him. âMiss Huddleston,â he said with a smile, âI must say youâre looking much betterânot to mention drierâthis morning.â
âIâm not sure I thanked you properly yesterday,â Christy said.
âForââ
âFor everything. For carrying me here, for . . .â she hesitated as the words sunk in, âfor saving my life.â
Mr. Grantland laughed. His big, booming voice filled the room. âAll in a dayâs work. Ohââ he turned and beckoned to the red-haired girl, âallow me to introduce Ruby Mae Morrison. Sheâs staying here at the mission house with us for a while.â
The girl stepped forward. âHowdy,â she said eagerly. Her eyes took in every inch of Christy. She was a teenager, maybe thirteen or so, Christy guessed, with abundant red hair that looked as if it had not been combed in a long while. Her plain, thin cotton dress was torn at the hem. She was barefoot, just as the Spencer children had been.
âNice to meet you, Ruby Mae,â Christy said. She pointed to some leftover buckwheat cakes. âWould you two like to join me?â
âThey both had breakfast,â Miss Ida reminded Christy primly. â Hours ago.â
âReckon Iâm hungry again, though,â Ruby Mae said, pulling up a chair.
Miss Ida groaned. âI suppose, if Miss Huddleston is done, you may as well finish up whatâs left. But, please, Ruby Mae, go wash up in the basin in the kitchen.â
âWash up, wash up, wash up,â Ruby Mae muttered, rolling her eyes heavenward as she reluctantly headed for the kitchen. âIfân I wash up much more, Iâll wash my skin clean off!â
Mr. Grantland laughed as she disappeared into the kitchen. âSheâs a character, that one,â he said.
âSheâs trouble, is what he means,â Miss Ida said, scraping crumbs on the table into her palm. âSheâll talk your ear off if you let her. And gossip! Where that girl gets her information, Iâll never know.â
âRuby Mae is a one-woman newspaper,â Mr. Grantland said.
âWhyââ Christy lowered her voice, âWhy is she staying here?â
His face went serious. âShe and her stepfather donât get along. After a particularly bad argument, he ordered her out of the cabin. She had nowhere else to go, so we took her in.â
Ruby Mae returned, thrusting her hands in front of Miss Ida for inspection. âAinât no more of those germy things a-growinâ on these hands,â she declared. She winked at Christy. âNot that Iâve ever seen one, mind you. But Doc MacNeill and Miss Ida and Miss Alice, they keep a-swearinâ theyâre there.â She pointed to Christyâs plate. âYou done with those?â
âOhâyes. Here, please. I couldnât eat another bite.â Christy passed her plate to Ruby Mae, who began to eat like she hadnât seen food in weeks.
âSheâs got the appetite of a grown man, that girl,â Miss Ida said with evident distaste.
âThatâs all right,â Christy said, smiling at Ruby Mae. âSo do I.â
Ruby Mae grinned back gratefully, her mouth stuffed with buckwheat cakes. âMaybuf latef I
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