Townsfolk
Hope gave Mr. Garner, the bank teller, a wave, thinking she should come back in a few days and open an account here. She would need some place to keep her money safe, both the amount she’d brought with her and the money she’d be earning soon, but she didn’t want to trouble Mr. Garner with it now, especially not with so many people standing around. What she really wanted to do was climb back into the wagon and insist that Brady take her back to his mother’s house so she could go lie down in the small bed she’d just inherited. Either that or back to the train station.
“It was lovely to meet all of you,” Hope said as she headed for the door, the women seeming to hang on her as she went.
“We are looking forward to seeing you at church Sunday,” one of the women said.
“Yes, please say you’ll be there,” added another.
“Oh, yes, of course, assuming you mean Mrs. Howard’s church?” Hope replied, glad to be outside in the sunshine where at least she could breathe.
“Yes, the very same. First Baptist,” blue hat nodded, her lips pursed together.
“I’ll be there.” Hope managed one more smile and then headed for Brady’s waiting wagon. He looked perturbed, as usual, and she imagined he’d wondered what in the world was taking her so long, but she felt she’d completed her errand as quickly as possible under the circumstances, and clearly he could see she’d been ambushed.
The women continued to call after her as Hope looked both ways and crossed the road to the wagon. She was up and in the seat, waving at them while they still chattered on.
“Well, I was gonna ask you what in blazes took so long, but now I know,” Brady said, pulling the reins so that the wagon started moving in the opposite direction of the way they’d come.
“Who are those women?” Hope asked, still smiling as she spoke through her teeth.
Brady chortled. “The one in the blue is Mrs. Davinia Murphy. Her husband owns the bakery, and the other is Mrs. Helen Stamine. Her husband owns the five-and-dime, and both of them have too much free time on their hands and love to hear the sounds of their own voices. You’ll get to know ‘em pretty well if you stick around.”
Hope didn’t like the doubt she heard in his voice, but she didn’t bother to say anything about it. “And what about the other one, the soft-spoken lady in the pink?”
“Oh, that was Celia Jones. Nice woman. Maybe has a screw loose.”
“What do you mean?” Hope asked as they made their way past the feed store. She peered inside, wondering if she’d catch a glimpse of Bradford Howard, but she couldn’t see through the glare of the sun reflecting off of the glass.
“Celia will tell you all about her true love, Donald Petrie, even calls him her husband from time to time. Ain’t no one ever met Donald Petrie, though. She insists he’s off fighting the Mexicans, but… if he exists, it might only be in her imagination.” Brady raised an eyebrow, and Hope had to pull her eyes off of him, thinking of how pathetic Celia sounded. Had she invented Donald in her mind?
“Who takes care of her?” Hope asked, realizing now that Brady must be taking her to the school.
“She lives with her folks. Real nice people. Her daddy owns the grocery store. So everyone’s nice to Celia. But, clearly, she ain’t right in the head.”
“And what do her folks say about Donald?”
“They patronize her, tell her he’ll be home soon enough. Behind closed doors, they’ve admitted they ain’t sure where she got this feller, but it’s obvious there ain’t no such person.”
Hope’s stomach fell, thinking of poor Celia. She’d seemed awfully kind in the bank, and she didn’t look to be too much older than Hope. It was a shame to think there was something wrong with her. “Has she been to see your brother, the doctor?”
“Nah. He couldn’t help her anyhow. He don’t treat wanderin’ minds. I heard her folks took her to some fancy brain doctor in San Antone, but I guess they ain’t helped her none. I’m sure she’d be locked up in one of them institutions if she were livin’ in New England or some place, but round here, we just tolerate her.”
Hope supposed that was better than the alternative, but she didn’t say anything else. This was sure shaping up to be a strange place. In front of her, she saw a building that had to be the schoolhouse. It was longer than the one she was used to teaching in, and the outer walls were white, not red, but there was a large bell hanging over top of it, and she couldn’t imagine it was anything else.
There was plenty of land around the building, despite still being close to a few houses, and Hope could imagine the kids running around, playing here during recess. If only there were some swings or a teeter totter like they were putting in at some of the schools back East. She did see two outhouses and a well in back.
“Well, this is it. What do you think?” Brady pulled up close to the front entrance, and Hope couldn’t contain her smile.
“It’s lovely. Would it be possible for me to go inside?”
Brady let out a loud sigh like she was taking up his valuable time, but he nodded, and she didn’t need to be told twice. She jumped down and headed for the door.
Inside, there were rows of mismatched benches and tables. Some of them looked like they’d belonged in another schoolhouse at the turn of the century. Others looked like they’d just been made. The smell of chalk and freshly cut wood filled her lungs, and Hope felt as if she were home.
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