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  A platform had been built, and the children took turns mounting it to spell the words that the solemn and bespectacled judges who sat in a row to the side of the platform tested them with. In the surrounding audience, the women sat on benches brought out from the school, and the men stood around in the rear, watching. Everyone took this annual event very seriously. But even during the tense concentration on the words and spellers, people kept casting their gazes skyward. Because another storm was definitely approaching.

  Asa noticed then that Colton, who was standing beside him, was silently spelling along with the children. So the boy had some learning, and he should have been in school over the winter. Didn’t matter that the Smiths lived farther out. Children should be sent to school.

  So far Asa had seen nothing of the Smiths. But it was only a matter of time before the Smiths would find out that the Farrier children had come to them. That didn’t bother him. He could handle Smith. Would handle Smith.

  And he knew the community would back him and Judith to keep the children till they heard some news from Illinois. Surely there was some decent Farrier left who would want these children. Thunder rumbled again—closer. He glanced skyward. When would this end so he could get his family—that word felt odd, but it was true—safely inside?

  *

  In her blue wedding dress with mother-of-pearl buttons, Judith sat on the bench with Lily beside her. Emma perched among the other teachers opposite the judges. For a moment, Judith let the pride over Emma’s new position expand within her, feeling the corners of her mouth curve slowly with satisfaction.

  In contrast, Emma sat very straight and proper in a subdued but well-cut lavender dress with hand-tatted lace at the high neck and cuff. Nonetheless, it was plain for everyone to see that she was the prettiest schoolmarm here.

  And so far, the Pepin students were holding their own in the competition. So even if they lost, no one would be able to say that a poor showing was due to the new schoolteacher. Judith hoped she’d find a moment to tell her sister that Asa had agreed to let her invite their father for a visit.

  Worrying lightning flashed over the Mississippi off to her left, and after several seconds, thunder boomed in the distance, drawing closer. Another storm was advancing.

  Judith found herself glancing again toward Asa and Colton. She felt another ripple of pride in her two “men.” She’d cut Asa’s and Colton’s hair for this event, and both looked good in their Sunday best. Her gaze connected with Asa’s, and he almost smiled. How could the lifting of one side of his mouth cause her pulse to flutter? She gave him the slightest smile in response and then turned back to the platform, where the sheriff’s son, Jacque, a boy with black hair and a thick Southern accent, was spelling archer.

  The round for the younger students finished. Then the older students stepped forward, the pace quickened and the words became more difficult. The tension in the moist air heightened.

  As she mentally spelled the words along with the children, Judith let Lily in her ruffled pink Sunday dress lean against her. Another student from the Pepin school was eliminated for misspelling mendacious. But three Pepin students were still in the bee.

  Lightning split the sky overhead. Thunder boomed almost immediately. The judges sprang to their feet. “We must finish at the schoolhouse!” said school board member Martin Steward. “Men, pick up the benches and head to the school! Ladies, please take your children directly there!”

  The crowd obeyed. Lightning crackled all around them, and thunder exploded over the river and town. As sudden rain pelted, Judith ran with Lily’s hand in hers. The women and children arrived at the schoolhouse, damp and breathless.

  Soon the men hustled through the door. In the middle of the milling crowd, they went about setting the benches and platform in place. It was a tight squeeze, which was the reason the spelling bee always took place outside. To ease the crowding, the men opened the connecting door to the unused teacher’s quarters so some people could stand or sit there to listen.

  Everyone settled in as best they could, crowded together on the benches and against the wall. And though the thunder and crack of lightning periodically interrupted the spellers, the excitement continued unabated.

  Judith held her breath as the final Pepin student, a boy named Johan Lang, spelled the word accommodate correctly—and won the gold ribbon. The applause echoed in the schoolhouse, rivaling the cascade of thunder that rolled over them.

  The ribbons were awarded with much ado, and after one more round of applause for all the spellers, Martin Steward announced that refreshments, cake and fruit punch, would be brought out from the teacher’s quarters as soon as possible.

  Judith fought her way through the crowd to hug her sister. “Well done, Emma! Well done! Father…” Her voice caught on the word. “Father would be so proud.”

  “I keep telling everyone that it wasn’t due to me. My students were so eager to learn. A pleasure to teach such.” Then she leaned forward and whispered, “I received a letter from Mason Chandler yesterday.”

  Judith felt her eyes open wide. “What did he say?”

  “I’ll tell you later,” Emma whispered before turning to receive more congratulations.

  Judith kept her smile in place. Letters often brought good news, but so far none had brought any to her or Emma. Odd that Emma, now the schoolteacher, was the one who’d read the classified ad that had brought them here. Judith had married and Emma remained single. But perhaps that suited Emma, with her sad loss in the war. Only rank necessity had forced them to seek husbands and new homes.

  Asa drew near, and she could tell that he wished to leave. But of course, they couldn’t without drawing attention to themselves. And rain continued to pour down the windows. She smiled at him, encouraging. “Let’s take our turn and get cake.”

  “Cake. I love cake,” Lily said, and then she did something she hadn’t before. Already holding Judith’s hand, the little girl reached over and took Asa’s hand so that she linked them. “Come on, Colton. You like cake.”

  A warm rush of hope and then a quick slap of reality, and Judith lowered her gaze. Lily was trusting them, but would Judith be able to keep this sweet child who provided so much company in the lonely cabin? Or would someone else claim her?

  They let Lily draw them to the table, where a beautiful array of cakes awaited. Soon she and Lily sat on a crowded bench beside the preacher’s pretty blonde wife, Sunny, and her little girl, Dawn, who was about the same age as Lily. Dawn immediately began talking to Lily. Nearby, Noah was somehow getting Asa to engage in a conversation. Colton alone did not allow himself to become part of the group. He ate his cake sourly, and no doubt in response to his stiff stance, no one approached him. What could she do to help Colton? Judith did not know.

  Sunny glanced at Colton and then back to Judith. “Give him time,” she murmured just for Judith’s ears. “Time heals. And prayer.”

  Judith gave a slight nod. She hoped the woman was right. She’d already faced a challenge with Asa, and now she had Colton, too.

  The rain continued to slide in a steady sheet down the windows, and people lingered long into the late afternoon, hoping for a letup. The punch and cake finally disappeared except for crumbs. At last the rain lightened. People gathered their belongings, repeated good wishes to the winning spellers and called their farewells.

  When Judith and Asa reached the door, Emma hurried forward. “I’ll come for a visit soon. The school year ends this week.” She hugged Judith and then was called away. Judith wondered what Emma would do now that she was no longer teaching school.

  They’d not had a moment alone for Judith to tell Emma about inviting Father. And then she remembered Emma had received a letter from Mason Chandler. What had he written to her sister?

  *

  Two days later, through the open door of the cabin, Judith watched as Emma walked up the path. In a rare break in the stormy weather, today had dawned clear and warm. A good sunshine for drying, so Judith had de
cided to move up laundry day. She was just finishing up her ironing. “Emma!” she cried with a lifting of her mood. How precious—time to sit with her dear twin and talk. What had she heard from the man who’d asked her to be his bride?

  Emma hurried the last few feet to the door, stopped to wipe her feet on the rough mat outside and stepped into Judith’s welcoming hug. Then she leaned down to greet Lily.

  Judith set the heavy flatiron on the hearth and quickly invited her sister to sit in one of the rockers. Her offer of coffee was refused.

  “I can stay only a few minutes. I’m helping Mrs. Ashford by making supper tonight. She’s working with her husband to sort and set out a new shipment of goods.”

  Judith glanced at Lily, wishing she could send the girl outside to play, but of course the child would want to sit with them. Judith lowered her tired back into the chair right next to Emma’s, and Lily automatically climbed up into her lap. The kittens vied with each other for Emma’s attention.

  Judith and Emma immediately put their heads together. Emma drew a letter from her pocket. She handed it to Judith and then picked up both kittens.

  But Judith refused it. “That’s for you. But tell me what you want to share.”

  Emma smiled, petting one kitten’s head. “Judith, you don’t know how special you are.”

  Emma’s words eased her fatigue from a day of standing, scrubbing clothing and lifting the iron. She leaned over and pressed her cheek against her sister’s. “Now tell me.”

  “He apologized again for not being here and for not being able to return more quickly. He said his father is on the edge of death but keeps fighting to live.”

  Judith nodded, feeling solemn.

  “He says another matter has come up, and he may be delayed much longer than he anticipated. He says he’ll understand if I don’t want to wait for him.”

  Judith put an arm around Emma’s shoulders, waiting to hear what Emma’s reaction would be.

  “Well, you know I really didn’t want to marry,” Emma murmured.

  Judith tightened her hold on her sister, who had suffered such a dreadful time of worrying during the war and then the loss of the fiancé she’d waited years to marry. “I know.” Judith shook off the gloom and offered her good news. “Asa said I can invite Father for a visit this summer.”

  “Wonderful!” Emma clapped her hands, startling the kittens, who leaped down. “Do you think he would come?”

  Lily slid off Judith’s lap to play with the kittens.

  “Well, after Anne’s letter, I think he might want to. I have already written him, and Anne, too, so she can persuade him.” She hoped he’d come but doubted he would.

  Emma sat back. “That’s a relief. I must thank Asa.”

  Judith almost cautioned Emma not to, but it might do Asa good to know his thoughtfulness was appreciated.

  Emma stared into the low fire. “I feel so sorry for Mason. But…”

  “But?”

  “I don’t have to recount to you why we came to Wisconsin. But now I don’t know if I want to marry.” Emma turned to her with sudden eagerness. “And… I’m hoping the school board will ask me to stay on as teacher here.” The words rushed out.

  “Emma, really? You enjoy teaching?” Judith clasped both Emma’s hands in hers.

  “Yes. Then I could move into the teacher’s quarters, though I could no doubt still take my meals with the Ashfords. And help out in the store this summer. I like working there. The school board may want to hire a man or someone with more experience. But I have let the Ashfords know that I’d be willing to continue.”

  Judith squeezed Emma’s hands once more before releasing them. Emma’s expression settled into solemn lines. “If this school board doesn’t hire me, I think that I might find a position at a smaller school nearby. I met other school board members from the participating schools at the bee. So perhaps I don’t need to marry now.”

  Judith pressed down words that tried to bubble up, words about starting fresh after the long war and Emma’s dreadful loss and sorrow. But if Emma could provide for herself and didn’t want to marry, she should follow her own mind. So Judith merely nodded.

  God had provided Emma a way forward, and while Judith’s marriage was not what she had hoped, she was much better off than in her father’s house. She had come to find peace and a place of her own, and she had gained both of those. She should not have expected more, but she was a woman and she did want more. She wanted Asa’s love, as unlikely as that was.

  *

  A rainy, stormy ten days later, Asa did not want to go to town, but Judith wished to talk to her sister and he needed to have Levi Comstock, the blacksmith, do some work for him. So in spite of the all-too-common heavy gray clouds overhead, he hitched up his wagon, and the four of them began to board it.

  If the sky hadn’t threatened more rain, they would have walked. But he didn’t want Judith or Lily to get soaked. Would he ever forget waking in the night and hearing Judith outside pumping water? And Lily in her white gown had looked like a white rag lying on the ground. He hurried these thoughts out of his mind, sweeping away other crushing images of suffering children he’d seen during the war. The war… He focused on helping Judith and lifting little Lily up.

  When everyone was set on the wagon, he slapped the reins, and they covered the short drive to town. He parked on Main Street. Judith and Lily went into the store while he and Colton headed to the blacksmith. Colton’s normal scowl was in place. But Asa could do nothing about that. In fact, he felt the same expression trying to take over his own face. He smoothed out his forehead. “Judith, don’t take long!” he warned over his shoulder.

  “Yes, Asa!”

  Then he noticed that town was crowded with people. He looked around and realized most of the shopkeepers were standing outside their stores. He found Levi out in back of his shop, which was just yards from the Mississippi River.

  Make that feet.

  A very few feet.

  Asa stared at the river nearly out of its banks. The current, flush with snowmelt and almost constant spring rain, rushed southward. “Levi!” Asa hailed his friend, who hadn’t heard their approach.

  The young blacksmith turned, his face drawn down into deep worry lines. “Asa.” He waved toward the river. “One more good rain and it will be in my shop.”

  The blacksmith was right. Asa briefly thought Levi should have considered that when he set up shop so near to the water, but forbore saying so. “You in business today?”

  “I guess.” The man heaved a huge sigh and turned toward the shop.

  The three of them had just reached the door when a deluge let loose. They yelped and jumped inside. Asa turned and gazed at the swollen, racing river. Dark worry ran through him like cold river water.

  As Levi worked, Asa stood in the open back doorway, watching the river rise. As suddenly as the rain had started, it stopped. But the river had risen. Anxiety churned in his midsection. Work forgotten, he and Levi turned and went out onto Main Street. Again all the shopkeepers stood around, gazing at the river and talking.

  Asa heard the words from several conversations.

  “We should do something.”

  “What?”

  The standing around in the face of approaching disaster irked him.

  More people came out of the living quarters above stores, wives and children. Two wagons rolled into town. More now standing in the street. More talking.

  More words that added up to the same.

  “We should do something.”

  “What?”

  Why didn’t someone take charge?

  He looked to Mr. Ashford, who stood on the porch of his store. Asa recalled Smith’s assessment of the storekeeper, “old woman in pants.” It had been rude, but usually Ashford stepped up, ready to tell people what to do or what he thought they should do. But not today. Maybe because none of them had lived along the Mississippi for long.

  Grimly Asa turned toward the river. With Colton beside
him, he walked the length of Main Street in each direction. The situation had become critical. One more rain—that’s all that was needed for a catastrophe. When would the river crest? He’d seen a flood before. The Mississippi could swamp the town and everything in it. Or worse, it might even sweep everything, sweep people away.

  Irritated beyond measure at the men and women standing around doing nothing, Asa turned and strode toward his wagon. Foolish people. Didn’t they see what was coming? Well, he did. The image of what could happen goaded him to action. He tried to loosen his jaw. He had to act. No one else appeared willing to take charge. To do what was necessary to avert calamity.

  He climbed up to stand by the wagon bench and lifted his rifle from its place under the seat. He took aim so that the bullet would land harmlessly in the river. And fired. One shot.

  Outcries. A few startled shrieks. And every face turned to him.

  “We can’t just stand around talking,” he stated in his loudest, most commanding voice. “We have to take action or Pepin will be swept away.”

  Openmouthed, wide-eyed, everyone stared at him. Still no one moved.

  He ground his teeth in his frustration. Very well, then. He’d tell them what to do. “Ashford!”

  “Yes?” The man almost snapped to attention.

  “You have cloth bags for flour and such?”

  “Yes,” Ashford repeated.

  “We need to load them with sand. It’s plentiful here at the riverside—”

  “But—” the man tried to interrupt.

  “We need to sandbag the shore from there.” Asa pointed to the ground that naturally rose in a bluff north of town. “Down to there, south of town.” He surveyed the crowd and fixed them with a fierce stare. “One more rain and the river will breach its banks. But we can build a temporary levee, and the water will flood south of town, where nobody lives.”

  No one disagreed. But no one moved.

  Asa stared at them, his chest heaving, his mind saying words he wouldn’t voice.

  His thin patience burst. “Ashford, get those bags. Now! Men, get shovels to dig sand to fill the bags! Mothers, take your children to higher ground.” He motioned to the east road out of town. When no one moved to obey, he lifted his rifle once more and fired. “Now!” he bellowed.