Erica Vetsch - His Prairie Sweetheart

Still, she had apologized, which was more than some folks would’ve done. He watched her tote the full water bucket, leaning away from the weight as she hefted it up the stairs and into the schoolhouse.

Captain lay in the shade beside the porch, but he sat up when Elias drew near. “Hey, Cap. You’re sure working hard.” The dog trotted over and put his nose under Elias’s hand, inviting a pat. “Shall we go in and see the progress?”

Captain’s nails clicked on the entryway floor, and the smells of vinegar and soap prickled Elias’s nose.

“Don’t bring him in here.” Savannah knelt in one of the doorways into the schoolroom, a scrub brush in her hand and a pail of soapy water on one side, a bucket of clean water on the other. “Dogs don’t belong inside, and if he marks up this floor, you’re going to be the one scrubbing it next.”

Still touchy.

Elias put his hand on Captain’s ruff. “Sorry, boy, the boss has spoken. Outside.” He pointed to the door and snapped his fingers. Captain gave him a sorrowful look but turned around, clicking his way out.

Elias went to the other doorway and surveyed her progress, inhaling the aromas of lemon polish and lye, vinegar and ammonia. Every surface gleamed. She’d accomplished more than he’d thought she would.

Stubborn or efficient? Maybe both?

Savannah dipped her scrub brush in the bucket again, scooting backward toward the door. The boar-bristle brush scraped against the floorboards in rhythmic circles. She rinsed with a cloth from the clean-water pail. The floor glistened damply, but when it dried, it would be dull until she waxed it properly.

The bow on her apron, so perky this morning, had gone limp. Her rolled up sleeves revealed pale, slender arms. The brush looked too big for her small hand, and her neat hairdo had become a bit bedraggled, with wisps escaping the braided knot at the back of her head.

“Where did the kids get off to?”

She wiped her forearm across her brow, sitting back on her heels. “I sent them on home. They worked hard all morning, and there wasn’t much left for them to do once I started on the floors.”

Flo-ahs. Why was it that every Southerner made one-syllable words into two? Still, it sounded kind of cute when she did it.

“I mended the corral fence and tightened a couple of loose boards on the privies. And I took a scythe to the grass. You won’t have to mow here. Tyler has a contract with Ole Oleson to cut it once school starts. There’s some hay in the shed, but a couple of the farmers will deliver more soon. And Tyler will see that coal’s delivered before it gets cold. The coal shed is a lean-to on the back of the schoolhouse, but you have to go outside to get to it.” He pointed to the coal hod by the stove. “Usually, one of the older boys is in charge of keeping the stove supplied, but you’ll have to light the fire in the mornings.”

“I saw that on the list of teachers’ duties.” She switched arms for scrubbing, her movements slower.

“Is there anything inside that needs fixing? Might as well tend to it while I’m here.” He held up his toolbox. “Any loose floorboards or wobbly desks?”

She scooted the buckets backward the last few feet, and he edged back through the doorway. With a couple swipes, she finished the floor. He reached for her elbow to help her up, an instinctive gesture. Her skin was soft and warm, and so smooth, as if it had never seen the sun, never been scoured by cold wind. As delicate as a flower petal.

When she was on her feet, she eased her arm from his grasp, rolling down her sleeves and buttoning the cuffs. “There is one thing that needs fixin’.”

“Oh?” He focused on her face again.

“One of the shelves here in the cloakroom. There’s a broken bracket and the shelf tips.” She reached out and rocked the empty shelf. “I would hate for anything to fall on one of the children.”

Elias bent to survey the damage. The bracket hung by one screw. “This will be a quick fix.” Digging through his toolbox, he found a screw that would work. “If you’ll hold the shelf steady, I’ll fasten it back together.”

Savannah took hold of the shelf, and he went to his knees to work on the underside. Soon the job was finished and he stood. “You’ve done a good job today. The place looks great.”

“You sound surprised.” Her chin went up a notch.

“Don’t get all defensive. I’ll admit I didn’t think you’d ever been on the business end of a scrub brush, but you proved me wrong.”

She rubbed her shoulder, blushing a bit. “Would you believe me if I said I had never washed windows before today? Rut had to show me how to use the vinegar and newspaper. I tried it first with soapy water and it looked terrible.”

“You got the hang of it. Everything’s bright as a new penny now.”

A smile touched her lips, but when she looked at her skirt, dirty and water-splotched, the smile faded. “If my aunt Georgette could see me now, she’d have a fit of the vapors.”

Vay-pahs.

“Everything will be shipshape as soon as you wax the floor.” He put his hands in his pockets and leaned against the now-sturdy shelf.

“Wax the floors?” Her eyes went wide.

“Sure. You scrubbed off the dirt and most of the old wax. Soon as everything dries, you have to put down a new coat of wax to protect the floors.” Elias pushed himself off the shelf with his shoulder and opened a cupboard in the corner. “Tins of wax are in here along with rags.”

“Does it have to be done today?” Savannah sounded forlorn and her shoulders drooped.

It really should be done before school started on Monday, but he didn’t have the heart to tell her. “How are you making out at the Halvorsons?”

She shrugged. “Fine. They’re all very nice. I just wish they spoke a little English or I spoke a little Norwegian.” She spread her damp hands, palms up, and something caught his eye. Every fingertip had a callus along the edge.

Now where had she gotten calluses, and in such odd places?

She gathered cleaning supplies, returning them to the basket she’d brought. He picked up the water buckets. “I’ll sluice these out for you.”

When he returned, she had the basket and his toolbox on the porch.

“I’ll give you a ride back to the Halvorsons’.” He put a full pail of water just inside the door to prime the pump on Monday.

Once they were headed down the road, he remembered what his mother had asked him to do. “Say, tomorrow, after church, my ma would like to have you over to dinner at our place. Well, my folks’ place, but I’ll be there for Sunday dinner.”

Savannah didn’t answer right away, and he began to be irked. Was she too good to have dinner at his parents’ home? His ire rose. If that’s how she was going to be, then fine—

“I’d like that. Tell her thank you for me.” Graciously said.

He calmed down.

She shielded her eyes from the sun and looked up at him. “Will your brother be there, as well?”

Elias frowned. “No, he’ll still be in the Cities. Why?”

“I looked through the desks and shelves, and there are hardly any school supplies. I couldn’t find chalk or ink or paper. There’s a ruler and a new attendance book in the teacher’s desk, but that’s about it. If I’m to have nearly a dozen pupils, I’ll need some slates and readers and tablets at the very least.”

He pulled the buckboard to a stop. “You do understand how things work out here, right? This is a poor school district. The kids bring the supplies they have at home, and if they don’t have any, you make do.”

Savannah’s eyebrows rose, and she looked at him as if he was a simpleton. “How can the children get a proper education if they don’t have the tools they need? There’s not even a dictionary or globe in the school. Not to mention the condition of the few readers and spellers I found.”