The next morning, riding in the buggy to school with Scott, Charlie was trying to work up her courage. She wanted to talk
to him, but he looked thoughtful, contemplative. Charlie couldn't tell if he was in the mood for
conversation. The night before, after Charlie had taken the extra paper and gone up to her bedroom, she'd begun on the
punishment lines.
"Truthworthiness is shown in a person's actions, not just their words."
That was the line Scott had assigned to her to write. Thirty-five times.
Charlie watched Scott as he drove, the buggy reins slack in his hands.
"Are you coming this afternoon?" Charlie asked him. "I mean, are you the one that's picking me up, too?"
"I'm not sure. It depends on where I'm working at this afternoon. It will be one of us, though. Maybe Teresa."
"Okay," Charlie said. She thought for a minute, and then offered, "I got to line twelve last night. Before you came up
to read with me."
"That's good," he said.
They were within sight of town when Charlie said, "Scott?"
"Hmm?"
"What does it mean if someone says that they have the 'luck of the Irish'?"
"Well, that means they feel lucky, protected."
"Protected by who?" Charlie asked.
"Well," Scott said, considering, "I'm not sure, really. The powers that be, I guess."
Charlie wrinkled her forehead in puzzlement.
"I think what it means basically, is that the Irish consider themselves lucky. That they're exempt from bad
fortune," Scott went on.
"Is that true, though?" Charlie asked, then. "Are they really luckier than other people?"
"No. There's no particular group of people that are luckier than any other. A person usually makes their own luck."
"By working hard?" Charlie asked.
"Yeah," Scott said, turning to look at her. "That's right."
"Oh."
Now at the school, Scott pulled the horse to a halt, as other children were running up, or being dropped off by
wagon or buggy as well.
"One of us will be here this afternoon," Scott said, again.
"Okay," Charlie said.
As she hopped down from the buggy seat to the ground, Scott said, "Here. Don't forget your lunch. It'd be a long time
between breakfast and supper." He held out the lunch tin to her.
Charlie took it, and turned as she heard her name being called. Rebecca was waving from the school house steps.
Charlie waved back, and then gathered her books closer to her chest, looking up at Scott.
"Rebecca's going to ask me to go fishing," Charlie said, and at Scott's raised eyebrow, she went on,
"They already had it planned to go today, I mean."
"Well, when she asks, you'll have to tell her that you can't go." He gave Charlie a semi-stern prompting look. "Right?"
"Right," Charlie said, feeling her face get all warm.
"Alright. Have a good day," he said.
"You, too," Charlie responded, and began to walk towards the school. She paused halfway across the school yard, to
turn and watch Scott, as the buggy trotted away. She sighed. Being in trouble was certainly no fun. No fun at all.
L
Charlie managed to focus on her lessons during the morning. She'd only had a moment to whisper, "I can't," to Rebecca
before the bell was rung. At the first recess, when Rebecca, Jason and a few of the other kids were talking about going
to the pond after school, Rebecca asked Charlie why she couldn't go, and that made Jason, and the others look at her
in curiousity, as well.
"Scott says I can't go," Charlie said, wishing she didn't have to say all of it.
"Well, maybe tomorrow, then?" Rebecca prompted hopefully.
"Not tomorrow, either," Charlie said, and then admitted, "I don't know when I'll be able to go again."
Jason and the boys only looked sympathetic, but they didn't ask any more questions.
When they'd gone on their way, to start a game of kickball, Charlie admitted the rest of it to Rebecca.
Rebecca looked sorry, and said, "Golly. I guess you for sure shouldn't have gone out there, to talk to that
old man."
"He was nice, though," Charlie said, thinking back to the conversation she'd had with the old man.
"Why was he so different than the day before?" Rebecca puzzled.
"I don't know. I wish I did know.'
"Well, we're just going to have to wonder, I guess," Rebecca said.
"Maybe sometime we'll figure it all out," Charlie said, with regret.
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It was Johnny who came to collect her that afternoon, when school was over. He was in the wagon, and there
were sacks of oats in the back, along with a couple of boxes from the mercantile.
When school was dismissed, and she came out, Charlie saw him sitting there, on the wagon seat. He was eating a piece
of licorice.
Charlie went over and handed her books and lunch tin up to him. Johnny took them and set them on the floor of the wagon.
"Hey," he greeted her.
"Hi."
Charlie clambored up into the wagon, and took her spot beside him on the wagon seat. Johnny urged the horse into
action, and they made their way past the school, and towards the road leading to the ranch.
"Beets got here this afternoon," Johnny told her.
"Oh. That's good. It will be nice to see him."
After five or so minutes of quiet, Charlie said, reluctantly, "I guess he'll have to hear about what I did. Right?"
"I don't know, pequeno. I guess if you or Scott tell him, then he will."
"Are you still mad at me?" Charlie asked, sounding forlorn.
Johnny looked at her, and then gave a brief shake of his dark head. "No."
"I thought maybe you weren't, since you said 'pequeno' to me."
"I just want you to be honest. That's all," he said.
"Okay," Charlie said, subdued. "I'm sorry, Johnny."
"I know," he said.
Johnny reached into his front shirt pocket, and pulled out another licorice stick. "Here," he said, handing it to her.
Charlie took it from him, smiling a little. "Thanks."
"You're welcome."
The afternoon suddenly seemed a bit brighter. At least Johnny wasn't mad at her any longer. That was one good thing.
L
At the ranch, Johnny grabbed a box from the wagon bed, and Charlie took her school things, and followed after him. In the
kitchen, the smell of cornbread and fried apples filled the air.
Maria greeted them, directing Johnny to set the box onto the table. She spoke rapidly in Spanish, and Charlie looked
at Johnny in question.
"She says go and change your clothes, and then come and help," Johnny translated.
Charlie nodded at Maria, and took her school things on into the library. She left them on Murdoch's desk, and then
passed thru the dining room on her way up to her room.
Teresa was arranging flowers in a vase for the center of the dining room table.
Charlie greeted her, and then asked where Mr. Beets was at.
"He and Murdoch went driving," Teresa reported. "I'm not sure just where."
Charlie went upstairs, to her bedroom, and quickly pulled off her shoes, then stripped off her dress, and stockings. Once
ensconced comfortably in a pair of blue jeans and printed blouse, she went back downstairs, her feet bare.
"Did you pick your clothes up?" Teresa asked her, as they passed one another on the stair landing. "Or did you leave them in
a pile, like you usually do?"
"In a pile," Charlie said, glibly, and went on to the kitchen. Maria put her to work there, snapping green beans.
7
Charlie had finished the beans, and was helping shape the bread dough into rolls, when Murdoch came in, with Mr.
Beets.
Charlie was honestly glad to see Beets. She'd gotten where she was accustomed to seeing him on a regular basis.
Mr. Beets was already in his 'work-ready' clothes.
"Charlotte, you are looking well," he said, smiling at Charlie.
"Thank you. You are, too," Charlie said, and Mr. Beets laughed.
"Well, thank you. I'm enjoying my afternoon immensely."
By the time supper was being set onto the dining room table, the family, and Mr. Beets, were preparing to
sit down. Minus Scott.
"Where's Scott?" she asked.
"He'll be along," Murdoch told her.
They were midway thru the meal, when Scott did come in, apologizing, and pausing to shake Mr. Beets' hand.
Before he sat down in his own spot at the table, Scott gave Charlie a brief smile, and ran his hand over the back of
her head. "How are you?' he asked.
"Alright," Charlie said, and after that the conversations around the table continued.
After the meal, Charlie, along with Johnny, helped clear the table of dishes. Maria handed off the coffee pot and cups on a
tray to Johnny, and a chocolate layer cake to Charlie to carry back to the library.
The congenial conversation carried on in the library. Charlie ate her cake, sitting beside Murdoch in the big chair.
When the clock struck eight, Scott said, "You can stay up awhile longer, since there's no school tomorrow."
Since Scott very rarely gave way on the eight o'clock bedtime rule, Charlie recognized the significance. It was after
nine, when Charlie found herself nearly drifting into sleep, leaning against Murdoch's shoulder, but then would jerk
herself awake again.
"Charlie," Murdoch said, shaking her gently. "Go on along up to bed."
Charlie was too sleepy to protest. "Alright," she said, getting to her feet. "Good night," she said, looking at
Mr. Beets.
"Goodnight, Charlotte. We'll ride together tomorrow, won't we?"
"Yes, sir. If you'd like," Charlie agreed.
Murdoch leaned forward to kiss Charlie's cheek. "Goodnight, darling."
Charlie said her goodnights to everyone else, and Scott said, "I'll be up in a few minutes."
Charlie nodded and went up the stairs. She was in her nightgown, when Scott came.
"Sleepy?" he asked her, coming over to sit on the edge of the bed.
"Uh huh."
"Do you want to forgo the reading tonight?" Scott asked, tapping the book they'd been reading of late.
"Aw, we've never not read at bedtime," Charlie said. "Not even once, since I came here."
"Well, we can read," Scott said, opening the book to where they'd stopped the evening before. "I just thought you
might be too sleepy."
"I am sleepy," Charlie admitted. "But, it wouldn't feel right somehow, if we didn't read together."
"I'm glad it means so much to you," Scott told her, pleased.
He began to read, finishing four pages, and then pausing, "Let's stop there for tonight, alright? It's getting late for
you to be getting to sleep."
Charlie, leaning against his shoulder, said, "Okay." After a moment she slipped her arm thru his, snuggling closer to him.
"Mr. Beets is looking forward to going riding tomorrow, I think," Charlie said.
"I think you're right," Scott agreed.
As he was tucking Charlie up under the quilt, he looked down at her face. "Tomorrow afternoon, or whenever you're
done with your ride with him, don't forget, you have your lines to finish."
Brought firmly back to earth again, and to the reality of her punishment, Charlie sighed. "When do I have to have them
finished?" she asked.
"What number are you on?" Scott asked.
"Twelve."
"A third of the way, then,' Scott said. "You should be able to finish them tomorrow. Before supper, alright?"
Charlie nodded at him, somberly. "Did you tell Mr. Beets? That you punished me?"
"I told him that you're still adjusting to having rules," Scott said.
"That's all?" Charlie asked, relieved.
"That's all."
L
The next morning, Charlie was up and about early, even having time to go and visit the barn cats before Maria
had finished preparing breakfast. After that, she and Mr. Beets prepared to take their horseback ride together.
Though Gurth's neck was nearly better, Mr. Beets noted the healing cut, and asked about it.
"What happened to his neck, there?" Mr. Beets asked, pointing, as he and Charlie mounted their horses.
As they rode, Charlie told him about Monte and his brother, and how they'd been throwing rocks, and in the process,
Gurth had gotten cut.
"That's a real shame," Mr. Beets said.
"Yes. It is," Charlie said. "And then they told their father that it was only the old one-eyed man, so it didn't really matter."
"Did they? Well, they don't sound like very upstanding young men."
Encouraged by his interest, and his apparent agreement, Charlie shared how Scott had defended her that day, in the church yard, to Monte's
father.
"That makes you feel very happy inside, doesn't it?" he asked.
Charlie nodded.
"I'm glad you and Scott are making such progress with your trust in one another," Mr. Beets said.
He couldn't have said anything that would have made Charlie's situation any more clearer. She hadn't thought of it
that way, really. How Scott had believed her even that very first day, at the railroad station. When she'd told him that she
hadn't taken that fat man's wallet, Scott had believed her. And, she'd sort of broken that belief he'd had in her, by
sneaking around about the old man. She made a mental note to herself to tell Scott that she understood it more now.
"Katherine never would have believed me, or defended me, the way that Scott does," Charlie said.
"I'm glad that things are working out so well for you here," Beets said kindly.
"I like it here. So much," Charlie said. She hesitated. "Even when I get in trouble. I mean, I don't like that part of
it at all. But, I'd still want to be here, even if I was in trouble every day."
"That makes me very happy to hear, Charlotte. That you feel that way about the family here."
Charlie talked on for a bit, about how Teresa was a good sort of 'big sister', and how Murdoch was still letting her
drive the buggy when they went into town together.
"You're enjoying riding your horse still, I can see that," Beets said.
"Yes," Charlie said, and then gave the older man a sidelong look. "I can't ride to school by myself for a while, though, like
I was getting to do. Scott says he doesn't know when he'll let me again."
"Ah," Beets said, in reply, but didn't inquire as to why.
Not wanting to go into details of her punishment, Charlie went on to tell Beets about the unkempt old man on the
edge of town. She told of all the rumors that flew about amongst the children, and even the things that Teresa and Jelly had
told her.
"It was sort of like a mystery," Charlie said. "My friend, Rebecca and I, we wanted to solve it. But, I guess we won't be able
to, at least right away."
"It sounds as though you shouldn't attempt to pursue the mystery," Beets said. "He sounds as though he could be
unstable."
With that statement by Beets, Charlie thought how most grownups were a lot alike, really.
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