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Authors: Nancy E. Turner
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order. Just a few short years have turned Tucson into a big place. There are stores selling things I didn’t even know I could want.
That afternoon Albert and his boys, Clover, Ezra, and Zack, along with Mary Pearl, arrived. Savannah and Rebeccah had stayed at home for want of the surrey we’d used. Albert said they had some errands to do for Savannah, but he drove to fetch Rachel from the schoolhouse where she lived and worked. We’d have one more night on the floor, and then a busy day tomorrow.
Rachel has been small and frail compared to her twin, Rebeccah, ever since she took rheumatic fever a few years ago. Her frame seemed as delicate as Granny’s, though her eyes were bright and her mind plenty quick to handle all these children.
As Harland introduced them to their new governess, Story piped up with, “Does this mean we can go to regular school again, or are you our teacher like Aunt Sarah?”
“Regular school. But if you got the measles and missed a day, I’ve been a teacher and I’ll help you out.”
I saw Harland’s boys cut eyes at each other. No telling what their experiences had been in San Francisco with schoolteachers, but it didn’t look as if they were pleased to have one for a governess. Small as Rachel was, I figured the children would be in good hands. She was Savannah’s daughter, after all.
Next thing, I went in the kitchen to start supper and Harland got a newspaper to see if there was an advertisement of someone wanting to be a house girl. While he went to visit a lady who’d run a notice, I started up a big pot of soup and made myself a list of things I needed to buy to take back home. I counted out thirty dollars and folded the bills up tightly, tied them with string, and put the money in my pocket for tomorrow.
April and Rachel decided they’d stay at the house and visit, so I told them to keep the fire going, then took up my cloak to go back to town and get my own errands done. Just then there was a knock at the door. Two women in dark hoods and cloaks stood there, their arms loaded down with baskets of bread and cakes. The Methodist ladies were having a baked-goods sale to raise money. The taller lady said one fund was to put a new stove in the parson’s kitchen, as his wife heated it so hot the top sank in and none of her pans will sit up straight nor hold half a pint of water. Well, I told them to tell her to just cook in the yard on a spit, the way I grew up doing. Folks who think they have to have a stove need to think again. Then the shorter lady said they had another collection, which was to take food and building supplies to the townspeople of Clifton. They said the entire town had washed away in the recent rains, and the money was to help them move and rebuild everything higher up on the hills.
One powerful storm and all my memories had been pulled from under me as if they were no more than sand. Harland’s, too, when he’d lost the house in the earthquake. I knew exactly what the people were feeling. Flattened out like dried leather. No idea where to turn. I felt the lump of money weighing down my skirt. Harland’s little ones and Ezra and Zachary, Albert’s youngest boys, crowded about my back, sniffing the air like foxes. Those boys would eat cake any time of the day, any day of the week.
“Would you try the cinnamon cake? It’s my grandmother’s recipe. She always claimed it was very good for warding off the grippe, too. It must have been so, since I never had it until I left home.”
The children made appreciative noises. My neighbors had built me a house and given me more than a roof. They’d made it a palace. I needed the money in my pocket, but here were neighbors I didn’t know in straits I knew all too well. “How much?” I said.
“Fifty cents for a cake. But it’s for charity.”
As I untied the string I’d just fixed, another flood of feelings swept through me. I said, “Let us have two. We’ve a lot of children here today.” I handed
That afternoon Albert and his boys, Clover, Ezra, and Zack, along with Mary Pearl, arrived. Savannah and Rebeccah had stayed at home for want of the surrey we’d used. Albert said they had some errands to do for Savannah, but he drove to fetch Rachel from the schoolhouse where she lived and worked. We’d have one more night on the floor, and then a busy day tomorrow.
Rachel has been small and frail compared to her twin, Rebeccah, ever since she took rheumatic fever a few years ago. Her frame seemed as delicate as Granny’s, though her eyes were bright and her mind plenty quick to handle all these children.
As Harland introduced them to their new governess, Story piped up with, “Does this mean we can go to regular school again, or are you our teacher like Aunt Sarah?”
“Regular school. But if you got the measles and missed a day, I’ve been a teacher and I’ll help you out.”
I saw Harland’s boys cut eyes at each other. No telling what their experiences had been in San Francisco with schoolteachers, but it didn’t look as if they were pleased to have one for a governess. Small as Rachel was, I figured the children would be in good hands. She was Savannah’s daughter, after all.
Next thing, I went in the kitchen to start supper and Harland got a newspaper to see if there was an advertisement of someone wanting to be a house girl. While he went to visit a lady who’d run a notice, I started up a big pot of soup and made myself a list of things I needed to buy to take back home. I counted out thirty dollars and folded the bills up tightly, tied them with string, and put the money in my pocket for tomorrow.
April and Rachel decided they’d stay at the house and visit, so I told them to keep the fire going, then took up my cloak to go back to town and get my own errands done. Just then there was a knock at the door. Two women in dark hoods and cloaks stood there, their arms loaded down with baskets of bread and cakes. The Methodist ladies were having a baked-goods sale to raise money. The taller lady said one fund was to put a new stove in the parson’s kitchen, as his wife heated it so hot the top sank in and none of her pans will sit up straight nor hold half a pint of water. Well, I told them to tell her to just cook in the yard on a spit, the way I grew up doing. Folks who think they have to have a stove need to think again. Then the shorter lady said they had another collection, which was to take food and building supplies to the townspeople of Clifton. They said the entire town had washed away in the recent rains, and the money was to help them move and rebuild everything higher up on the hills.
One powerful storm and all my memories had been pulled from under me as if they were no more than sand. Harland’s, too, when he’d lost the house in the earthquake. I knew exactly what the people were feeling. Flattened out like dried leather. No idea where to turn. I felt the lump of money weighing down my skirt. Harland’s little ones and Ezra and Zachary, Albert’s youngest boys, crowded about my back, sniffing the air like foxes. Those boys would eat cake any time of the day, any day of the week.
“Would you try the cinnamon cake? It’s my grandmother’s recipe. She always claimed it was very good for warding off the grippe, too. It must have been so, since I never had it until I left home.”
The children made appreciative noises. My neighbors had built me a house and given me more than a roof. They’d made it a palace. I needed the money in my pocket, but here were neighbors I didn’t know in straits I knew all too well. “How much?” I said.
“Fifty cents for a cake. But it’s for charity.”
As I untied the string I’d just fixed, another flood of feelings swept through me. I said, “Let us have two. We’ve a lot of children here today.” I handed
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