Heart Charms
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The next day, as promised, the ranch foreman rode out to meet them. He was a short man with a round face and a paunch that hung over his belt like an extra saddle. His hair had gone gray in streaks from the top of his head down to the back of his neck. The only thing he wore on his feet were thick-soled boots. “I’m Sam,” he said, extending his hand. “And you are?”
“We’re looking for work.”
He laughed. “You’ll have to be more specific than that.”
Susan didn’t know what she should say. She’d never been interviewed before. And this wasn’t exactly an interview. It was a job offer. But it would take time to explain her situation so she decided not to mention her sister at all. Instead, she just told him about herself and how much experience she had working on ranches. As soon as she mentioned her father’s name, he frowned.
“What happened to your family? You don’t look well enough to me.”
She shook her head. “My mother died when I was young. My father is dead too. We haven’t spoken since my wedding day.”
“But you’ve got a sister.”
“Yes.” Susan couldn’t tell if he knew anything or not. If he did, why hadn’t he asked more questions about her family? Or even called her by name? He could have done any number of things to find out who she really was but instead, he seemed content to let her talk.
When she finished telling him about her life, she waited for him to ask about her husband. But he didn’t. He just stared at her with a blank expression. Finally, she said, “I suppose we can start right away.”
Sam nodded. “That’s good. Let’s get you settled in first. Then I’ll show you around.”
They rode into town together. After they passed through the gate, Susan looked up and saw that the ranch house was almost identical to the one she’d seen from afar. The front porch faced east and was surrounded by a white picket fence.
A red barn stood beside the corral where the horses were kept. There were several other buildings scattered throughout the property: a stable, a blacksmith shop, a large storage shed, a bunkhouse, and a cook shack. All of them were made of wood except for the barn which was constructed of stone blocks.
As they rode along, she noticed that there were no fences between the pastures. They were open spaces filled with grassy hills and trees. Horses grazed peacefully. Some wandered off alone while others formed small groups. The animals didn’t seem to mind being left unattended. In fact, they seemed to enjoy roaming free.
When they reached the end of the road, Sam pointed to a small wooden building. “This is our schoolhouse,” he explained. “It used to belong to the church, but now it belongs to us. That’s where you’ll teach.”
“Teach?”
“Yes. You’ll be teaching reading, writing, and arithmetic.”
“Reading, writing, and arithmetic!”
“That’s all you need to know. And I’ll help you learn more.”
“How long will this take?”
“A few weeks. Maybe longer.”
Susan hesitated. How many days could she spend here before someone figured out who she was? And once they found out, what would happen then?
“You’ll be fine,” Sam reassured her. “If anyone asks, I’ll tell them you’re a widow.”
Susan thought about the children and wondered if she’d ever see them again. Would their parents come to claim them? What if they refused to believe that she was really a teacher? She’d already met a couple of people who didn’t think she was qualified. Could she handle another?
“Let’s go inside and get started,” Sam suggested.
“Right.”
Inside the schoolroom was a long table with benches on either side. At the far end was a desk covered with papers and books. On the wall behind the desk was a map of the United States. “This is a geography lesson,” Sam explained. “And those are maps of Texas.”
“Texas?”
“Yes. This is the Lone Star State.”
“Why do we study Texas?”
“Because it’s the biggest state in the union. It has everything from deserts to forests. Mountains, plains, and rivers.”
“Are there buffalo in Texas?”
“No.”
“Then why does it have a buffalo on its flag?”
“I’m not sure.” Sam shrugged. “Maybe because it was a big part of the country when the American settlers came here.”
“Where did the American settlers come from?”
“From England. From Germany. From Ireland. From Scotland. Everywhere. But mostly from Europe.”
“Why did they leave Europe?”
“To escape religious persecution. To seek a better way of living. For freedom. Most of them wanted to own land. They also wanted to be able to worship God without fear.”
“So they came here and founded America.”
“Yes.”
“But what happened to the Native Americans?”
“The Indians. The tribes. The Plains Indians. The Apache. The Sioux. The Comanche. The Iroquois.”
“Did they fight back?”
“Not much. Not against the Europeans. No one knows exactly how they felt about the newcomers. They may have welcomed them or they might have been afraid of the strangers. Either way, they lost the war. The Indians were forced to move west.”
“Why did they lose?”
“Because the European settlers had weapons. They had guns. They had horses. They had steel knives. They had cannons. They even had rifles. The Indians didn’t have any of these things. So they couldn’t win.”
“What happened to the Indians after the Europeans won?”
“Most of them died. The rest became slaves. Or they joined the army. Some of the tribes still exist today.”
“Do they live in Texas?”
“No. They live in Oklahoma.”
“Will I meet them?”
Sam paused. “We can talk about that later,” he said finally. “For now, let’s just concentrate on learning your lessons.”
“Okay.”
He led her to the desk and showed her where to sit. He sat down across from her. “Now, I’ll give you some workbooks so you can start practicing.”
She opened the book and studied the first page. It contained simple sentences that required her to read aloud. “I don’t know these words,” she told him.
“Don’t worry about it for now. Just sound out the letters and try to say the word. Once you’ve done that, I’ll show you how to write it.”
They spent most of the afternoon working on her reading skills. By the time they finished, Susan was exhausted. Her head throbbed. She hoped she’d be able to sleep tonight.
“I’ll walk you home,” Sam offered.
“Thank you.”
“There’s only one problem.”
“What?”
“I forgot my horse.”
“Oh.”
“Can you ride?”
“Of course.”
“Good. Then I guess we should get going.”
“Right.”
As they walked toward the barn, Susan asked Sam about the ranch. “How many people live here?”
“Ten families. That makes twenty-five people.”
“Twenty-five! Where are the other two?”
“One family moved away. Another went north.”
“North? Why would they do that?”
“It’s too cold up there. And the winters are terrible.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“I know.”
“Who owns this place?”
“Me. My brothers and sisters.”
“Does anyone else help?”
“My father sometimes helps.”
“Your dad?”
“Yes.”
“Is he a rancher?”
“No. He works as an accountant.”
“An accountant!”
“Yes.”
Susan stopped walking. “You mean to tell me that all of us kids will grow up to be accountants?”
“Probably. If we want to.”
“Why would we want to?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Well, why wouldn’t we want to be cowboys?”
“Cowboys aren’t respected anymore.”
“Why not?”
“I think it’s because they’re rough men. Men use their fists instead of their brains to solve problems. Cowboys are like the Wild West. There’s nothing civilized about them. They don’t care about anything except themselves. They drink whiskey. They gamble. They shoot each other. They kill animals for fun. They cheat on their wives. They steal cattle. They lie. Cheat. Steal. Kill.”
“Sounds like most of the men in town.”
“Yeah. But at least the ones in town are honest about it. You know what they’re doing. At least they admit it.”
“Are you saying that the men here aren’t honorable?”
“No. Of course not. We just don’t have the same standards as the cowboys.”
“What does that mean?”
“Nothing. Let’s go.”
They reached the barn and entered through the door. A large black stallion waited inside. “This is Whiskey,” Sam said. “He’s yours.”
“Whiskey?”
“His name means ‘spirits.’ His real name is Blackjack. I call him Whiskey.”
“Blackjack?”
“Yes. Because he has a white patch on his face.”
“But he’s a black horse.”
“So?”
“Aren’t horses supposed to have brown or gray coats?”
“Not always. Sometimes they’re black.”
“How come?”
“I don’t know. Maybe he got into something when he was young.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know. Probably something bad. Like poison.”
“Poison?”
“Maybe.”
“And you called him Blackjack?”
“Because he’s black.”
“Blackjack! Poison! What kind of name is that for a horse?”
“It’s better than calling him something stupid like Whiskey.”
“What’s wrong with Whiskey?”
“Nothing. For now, anyway. When you get older, maybe you’ll understand.”
“When I get older?”
“Yes. Don’t worry about it now. Just learn how to ride him.”
“I’ll try.”
“Good.”
Sam led Whiskey outside and mounted the horse. “Let’s go.”
“Where are we going?”
“Just follow me.”
After riding around the ranch, Sam guided Whiskey back to the barn. “We can work on your reading skills tomorrow,” Sam told her. “I need some sleep before I start teaching you how to rope.”
“Rope?”
“Yes. Roping.”
“What’s that?”
“It’s where you tie a horse to another one so the two horses move together.”
“Move together? How?”
“By pulling on ropes tied between the two.”
“Pulling on ropes?”
“Yes.”
“How do you pull on ropes?”
“With a rope.”
“A rope?”
“Yes.”
“What’s a rope made out of?”
“Wood.”
“Why wood?”
“The best thing to use is wood.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s strong.”
“Stronger than metal?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Metal is hard. Harder than wood. So it takes more strength to bend it. That’s why it’s harder to use.”
“Oh. Why is it easier to use wood?”
“I don’t know. It’s just the way things are done.”
“Do you ever use any other material besides wood?”
“Sometimes. But only if it’s necessary.”
“What other materials could you use?”
“Plastic. Metal. Rubber. Leather. Glass. Stone.”
“Stone?”
“Yes.”
“You mean rocks?”
“Yes.”
“What are rocks made from?”
“I don’t know.”
“I thought you worked here.”
“I do. But I didn’t know much about horses until recently.”
“Why did you leave?”
“To find a place where I could live without worrying about anything.”
“That’s good. Do you have a family?”
“I wish I had a family.”
“Did you lose someone special?”
“Someone very close to me died. She was my mother.”
“Your mother?”
“Yes.”
“She died?”
“Yes. In childbirth.”
“In childbirth?”
“Yes.”
“How old were you?”
“Three.”
“Were you hurt?”
“I wasn’t.”
“Then why did she die?”
“Nobody knows.”
“Who delivered her baby?”
“My father.”
“Was your father a doctor?”
“No.”
“Then why would he deliver her?”
“He couldn’t help it.”
“Couldn’t help what?”
“There was nothing he could do. He tried everything but he still lost her.”
“How did he lose her?”
“I don’t know.”
“But you knew your mother.”
“Yes.”
“And you knew her well enough to say that?”
“Yes. I loved her.”
“Loved her?”
“Yes. I used to call her Mama.”
“Mama? Is that short for something?”
“Yes. My real name is Mary.”
“Mary!”
“Yes.”
“Don’t you think it’s strange that she’d give birth to a child named Mary and then later become known as Mama?”
“I guess not.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never really thought about it.”
“Well, I’m thinking about it now.”
“Okay.”
“Maybe you should ask your father.”
“Ask my father?”
“Yes. You’re his daughter. Maybe he’ll tell you.”
“I doubt it.”
“Why?”
“He doesn’t talk about her.”
“Does he ever mention her?”
“Not often. And when he does, it’s usually in passing.”
“Passing?”
“Yes.”
“What’s passed?”
“Something you hear or see once and then forget about it.”
The End