Chapter Three
The following nights were filled with dark dreams for Eva. She woke up from each in a sweat, panting as though she had been running for hours. Her jaw and fists would be clenched so tight that the pain lasted well into the daytime. As far as she knew, she never called out in her dreams. No one in the boarding house let on that they could hear anything. She came to dread sleep.
When word had spread through the students that Miss Beadle took a nasty fall, she received a surprise house call from Dr. Hiram Baker, the town physician. He claimed he merely wanted to make sure there was nothing worse than bruising around her face but he seemed to question more than her fall. Eva laughed about her clumsiness in an attempt to avoid answering questions. If there was one thing she was sure, the best lies were kept simple. Explaining her injuries more than to say she fell would create problems.
"It appears that you will recover, Miss Beadle," Hiram said, closing his examination bag. "I don't suppose I need to tell you that it can be quite dangerous to wander around in the dark. Falling is the least of all dangers."
"I'm quite aware now, thank you," Eva replied. "I haven't made that mistake since. 'Home before sunset' is my new motto."
"Good," he smiled. "I'd offer something for the pain but I suppose that ship has already sailed."
"Oh, yes. I feel fine. I'm more embarrassed than hurt. The poor children must have had quite the fright that first day. No doubt they exaggerated when they told their parents."
"Wouldn't doubt that at all. All the same, I wish you had come to me sooner. If you had broken anything, you could have lost your eye."
"I realize that now. I was just too embarrassed, I guess." Eva wished he would finish with his lecture and leave. She had high esteem for the doctor and considered him a dear friend, but she was not going to confide anything to him and the sooner this interchange was over, the better.
"Yes," he muttered. "I get that a lot from people. You'd be amazed."
Hiram put on his overcoat and headed to the door. He sensed that there was more to this accident but years of experience told him that when tending to his friends, it would do no good to keep prying. Eva didn't have anything to hide in this community. There was no reason to question her story at all. Doing so would strain their friendly relationship. It occurred to him that it was a friendship that he treasured more than most.
Eva continued to carry her revolver to school but not once did she need to reveal it. Benjamin never returned and was seldom in town. One time she saw Mr. Stevins coming out of the feed store and she thought she should reinforce with him that Benjamin was finished at school but she thought better of it. She did not want anything to do with the family or give Benjamin any cause to think about her at all.
She threw herself into classes at school. She discovered that dealing with the older children, especially the boys, caused a great deal of stress so she focused unfairly on the younger students. It wasn't their fault, of course, but she couldn't bring herself to be near them. If they approached her, she froze and gave quick answers to their questions.
All in all, Eva felt that she had survived the ordeal the best she could. She counted on the passing of time to bring her back to complete normalcy as a teacher and a person. The nightmares continued and she knew that there would be demons forever haunting her for what had happened to her. But she was determined to keep the secret until she died. Still, when she was alone with her thoughts, when she heard a sudden sound or if she found herself in a darkened room too long, her heart rate sped and a feeling of dread and terror choked her.
When the week had finished, Eva made her weekly shopping trip to the mercantile after school. She needed to replace the clothing that Benjamin tore. She browsed the books, purchased some personal items and started to leave when Mr. Thurlow entered. He noticed her heading out and waved her over.
"Miss Beadle," he whispered. "Fancy meeting you here. I was just going to pick up some ammunition for our excursion tomorrow. I talked to Mr. Miller and he is very willing for us to use his field. He did make one request, however. He asked me to teach his daughter to shoot, too. So she'll be joining us if you don't mind."
"Well, I… I suppose that is alright, but… are you talking about his daughter Elizabeth?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"I thought she was living east at school. I wasn't aware that she was back in Walnut Grove."
"Yeah, about that," he whispered even lower. "Mr. Miller is rather keen on keeping that information quiet. Not sure why. But since he is being kind to let us use his field, I think it only right to meet this request."
"Of course," she managed to speak. The truth was that Eva was not very happy to share this experience with another. She didn't want anyone to know she was learning to shoot. One more person just risks word spreading. "While we're keeping secrets, Mr. Thurlow, I am not very eager for anyone else to know what we are doing. Do you think Mr. Miller will keep this to himself?"
"Surely," Mr. Thurlow nodded. "He doesn't want anyone to know his daughter is home, I suppose he will keep it all to himself. Say, this sleepy little town just became downright interesting if you ask me."
"Oh, not really," Eva laughed nervously.
Eva spent the evening reading in her room. Her social life was never very exciting and she now appreciated that fact more than ever. Thoughts of Elizabeth distracted her from the book. The girl had just celebrated her fifteenth birthday when she suddenly stopped attending school. Finally her mother visited to say that Elizabeth had received an offer to go east and attend a prestigious school in exchange for help with a sick aunt. It was a very generous offer that couldn't be passed up and Elizabeth was very eager to go. Why had she returned? It had been over a year; surely her schooling was not complete?
Finally Eva dragged herself to bed. Almost instantly the nightmares started again. She woke twice in a sweat, her nails imbedded in the palms of her hands. She rolled over and tried sleep again. She was not sure these nightmares would ever go away for good.
The next morning, Scott Thurlow and Eva Beadle walked through the woods to what was known by the town as Miller's clearing. It was a quite a distance from town. The air had a slight chill but the shining sun warmed them as they briskly moved off the regular path toward the field. As they got closer, Eva could see Elizabeth standing with her father waiting for them to arrive. Elizabeth looked very different, much older and quite sadder. She did not seem happy to see them.
"Good morning," Scott hollered. "Welcome to the Thurlow School of Target Shooting." It was a bad joke and no one laughed. Suddenly it seemed to be solemn, even unpleasant, to think about what they were doing.
"Good morning, Mr. Thurlow. This is my daughter Elizabeth. I'd be much obliged if you could get her to learn something. She has my shotgun." Eva noticed he didn't look at his daughter and she didn't look at him. There was a very bad feeling. Mr. Miller quickly left them alone.
"First thing we need to do is set up some kind of target," Scott said. He pulled a large roll of paper out of his satchel and looked around to nail it to something. He searched the edge of the woods and found a long board that had been abandoned for some reason and carried it 100 feet into the field. He pulled out a hammer and pounded it into the ground so that it stood upright. It barely reached his shoulder. He then tacked on the paper target and headed back to where the girls stood awaiting instruction.
While this was happening, Eva approached Elizabeth and greeted her with a slight smile.
"Elizabeth I was surprised to hear that you returned from Boston already. Of course, I was surprised when you left, too. It is really good to see you. Did you just get back?"
"No," Elizabeth mumbled with an edge in her voice. "I've been back since the end of July."
"Really? I guess I thought you'd come back to school."
"No, Miss Beadle. I'm not coming back to school. I'm done with school."
The tone in her voice was dark. Eva decided not to pursue it any further. Mr. Thurlow had returned to them and was asking to see the firearms they planned to use. Eva produced her father's Colt pocket revolver. He had used it during the war and passed it along to her when she left. Elizabeth held her father's shotgun loosely at her side.
They were given slow careful instruction on loading and holding each weapon and finally given tips on aiming and firing. The first shot sent Eva stumbling on her heals, but she was determined to wield it with confidence. She discovered that her farsightedness was an advantage and hitting the target was not that difficult. Scott seemed rather impressed with her accuracy.
Elizabeth finally worked up the courage to fire the shotgun. She survived the kickback rather well, and quickly prepared for another shot. The target was taking a beating.
"Again, Mr. Thurlow." Elizabeth stared out at the target and handed the shotgun to him to be reloaded. He obliged and without taking her eyes off the shredded paper in the field, she raised it and shot it again. And again. And yet again. Eva suddenly realized that tears were streaming down her face with each shot. Finally the last shot blasted the board apart and the target was no more.
"Well," Scott Thurlow exclaimed. "I don't know who that fellow was, Miss Miller, but he must have really done you wrong." Elizabeth turned quickly and stared at him. By then he saw her tears and instantly regretted his joke.
"Hey, I'm sorry. I think you did great. I didn't mean anything…"
"It's ok, Mr. Thurlow. I don't blame your joke. I suppose it is rather funny, a helpless girl blowing away a piece of wood. What is even funnier is that…" Elizabeth stopped herself. She handed him the shotgun and quickly wiped her face with her hands. "I think I'm done. I… I really need to go."
"Sure," he said softly. "You better take this to your father. I'll be sure to tell him you know your stuff. You did a fine job, Elizabeth."
"Thank you," she muttered as she rushed off to the path that led to her house.
"I think I'm done, too. Thank you for the lesson, Mr. Thurlow. I feel much better now that I've actually shot this thing."
"I must say, Miss Beadle, that you are not only a fine teacher but a fine student. I thought we'd be out here a lot longer. In fact, I was kind of hoping we'd spend more of the day together."
Eva suddenly needed to go somewhere, anywhere. His words sounded like teasing to her. She instantly regretted being in the middle of the woods with this man that she barely knew. What had she been thinking?
"Mr. Thurlow," she sputtered as she put the revolver back in the holster and wrapped it again in the scarf. "I am not really sure what you are suggesting but please don't say anything else. I need to go back. I'm sorry, but…"
"Whoa, Miss Beadle, I assure you that I meant nothing harmful. I was just hoping for the pleasure of your company for the whole morning, but I don't intend to keep you against your will."
"Of course not. I shouldn't be so rude… I-I-I'm so sorry,"
"Well, we have the walk back to town," he sighed. "I won't talk if that will make you uncomfortable."
"No, please… tell me about yourself, Mr. Thurlow. I realize that you've been in Walnut Grove for quite awhile but we haven't had much chance to be acquainted."
He smiled and gestured for her to join him as they walked back to town. She learned that he had grown up in Arkansas but moved to Texas as a young man to join the US Calvary. Instead he found work in a ranching town where he was instantly recruited by the sheriff to help keep the peace. He followed his first love to Minnesota after the war, but discovered she was not receptive to his charms. He drifted around the territory and settled briefly in Walnut Grove until he could buy some land of his own or figure where to drift next.
They returned to the boarding house by late morning. Eva excused herself to her room where she returned the gun to its box. She rested awhile before lunch. Mr. Thurlow made her promise to join him for the meal. She felt conflicted. This man was trying to be a part of her life in some way. She needed to keep it a small part. He didn't know what he was asking of her. He didn't know that she could never be anything to him.
She survived lunch, sharing some biographical details about herself. It was certainly a pleasant conversation and she regretted that it had not happened sooner in time. She knew she could not rebuff his attention without explanation. She would just have to pray that he lost interest quickly once he realized she was never going to be more than a friend.