On Monday during the noon break, Christy sat with David on the front steps of the mission school. The children were spread all over the lawn, lazing under the trees while they ate.
“So, any problems so far today?” asked David, who taught Bible study at the school and helped with arithmetic classes when he had time.
“Somebody put molasses on Louise Washington’s chair while she was writing on the chalkboard. I tried, but I couldn’t find the culprit. I’m pretty sure it was Lundy, though,” Christy sighed. “I just can’t seem to get through to these children, David.”
“Join the club.” David gave an understanding laugh. “How do you think I felt yesterday, during my sermon about brotherly love and tolerance?”
“It was a wonderful sermon, David.”
“Too bad the church was only half full.”
“I keep thinking if I could just get one or two of the children to make friends with the Washingtons, that would be a good start. I thought I saw Della May whispering to Hannah this morning, but I was probably imagining things. Given the way Bob Allen feels, it’s difficult to imagine one of his own children defying him that way.”
“It’s hard for these children to take a stand like that,” David pointed out. “It takes real bravery to go against your family and friends and do the right thing.”
He pointed to Creed Allen, who was sitting under a tree, head in his hands. “Speaking of the Allens, what’s wrong with Creed? He’s been so quiet lately.”
“Scalawag ran away,” Christy explained.
“Oh, that explains it. Poor kid. Speaking of running away, I hear you’re planning a trip with Doctor MacNeill.”
“Word travels fast.”
“You’re going to a wedding?” David asked, brows raised.
“We’ll see. If things don’t settle down around here, I’m not sure I’ll be comfortable leaving, even if it’s only for a couple days. Miss Alice did say she wouldn’t mind filling in at the school.”
“I’ll help out, too, if I can. Although I’d prefer it,” David added with a grin, “if you were going to a wedding with me.”
Before Christy could reply, a sharp cry rang out. “Miz Christy, Preacher, come quick!” Ruby Mae called. “John and Lundy’s a-fightin’!”
Christy and David ran to the other side of the school. A small group of students had circled around John and Lundy. John was on the ground. Lundy straddled his chest.
“Tell me, you slime-belly snake!” Lundy screamed. “Tell me what you did with it!”
“I don’t know what you’re a-talkin’ about. I swear it!” John shouted.
Lundy raised his fist to strike. Just in the nick of time, David grabbed his arm. Together he and Christy yanked Lundy off John.
“Lundy Taylor!” Christy cried. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“He stole my hat!” Lundy screamed. “Stole it right off my desk when I weren’t lookin’.”
“I didn’t take his fool hat,” John said as he climbed to his feet shakily. “What would I want with that dirty ol’—”
“I’m goin’ to pummel you good for that!” Lundy started for John, but David held him back.
“Did anyone see John take Lundy’s hat?” Christy asked.
Nobody answered.
“Who else woulda took it?” Lundy asked. “That’s how they are, my pa says. Can’t trust ’em as far as you can throw ’em. ’Sides, I ain’t the only one what’s had somethin’ stole since they come to school.”
“Someone took my bread last Friday,” Wraight Holt said, glaring at John.
“And Mary O’Teale,” Lundy added, “she done had her hair ribbon swiped.”
Mary nodded. “It’s true, Teacher.”
“And that rag doll Vella Holt’s always carryin’ around with her like it’s a real baby,” Lundy said. “That’s gone. All of it since they —” he jabbed a finger at John, “come to school.”
Christy put her hands on her hips. “Has anyone seen these items taken? Does anyone have any proof that John or his sisters are responsible?”
“That’s how thiefs is,” Wraight said. “Sneak up on you when you ain’t suspectin’.”
“I didn’t take your things,” John said defiantly. “I ain’t got no need of ’em.”
“All right,” Christy said firmly. “Here’s what we’re going to do. I want everyone to look high and low for these items for the rest of the noon break. Until we can prove what happened to them, there will be no more accusations. And Lundy, I want you to go home for the rest of the day. You know how I feel about fighting.”
“But it weren’t my fault!” Lundy screamed. “It was him—”
“That’ll be quite enough, Lundy,” David said. “You’re lucky we aren’t going to expel you.”
Lundy sent a poisonous look at John. He spat on the ground. “You’ll get yours,” he growled. Then he spun on his heel and stomped off, muttering to himself.
When the fighting was over, Della May went over to her brother and sat beside him. “Bad fightin’,” she reported.
“Lundy and John?” Creed asked.
“Yep.”
“I figgered as much.”
“You think they stole those things like Lundy said?”
“Don’t rightly know.” Creed leaned back against the tree trunk, sighed, and closed his eyes.
“Creed,” Della May said, “Scalawag’s bound to turn up. You heard Granny. She ain’t hardly never wrong.”
Creed didn’t answer. That was a bad sign. Creed always had something to say.
“I ain’t never heard Granny yell the way she did at Pa the other day,” Della May said. She picked a piece of grass and chewed on it.
“Nope,” was all Creed said.
Della May paused. “You think Pa was the one shot at John?” she asked softly.
“Most likely.”
“If someone shot at you,” Della May said, “I’d be powerful mad.”
Creed opened one eye. “Thank you kindly, Della May.” He smiled, but just a little.
“Creed?”
“Hmm?”
“You figger pas are ever wrong about things?”
“Hardly never. That’s why they’s pas and we’s just children.”
“Creed?”
“Lordamercy, Della May! Can’t you see I’m restin’?”
“You figger Pa’d be right mad if’n I just talked to Hannah now and again?”
For that, Creed opened both eyes. He scratched his head, eyeing her like she’d gone plumb mad. “Talk to ’em to say mean things? Or talk to ’em to say friendly-like things?”
“Friendly-like.”
Creed let out a low whistle. “Della May, you’d be a-walkin’ on thin ice, girl.”
“I’ve been givin’ it some time. And I’ve come to figger out that Hannah’s purty nice. Today she told me she’s been lookin’ for Scalawag for you every single day since he run off.”
Creed gave that some thought. “Every day?”
“Every day. And I believe her, ’cause she likes animals same as you and me. Has a mouse in her pocket, name of Violet.”
“Sounds to me like you already done your share o’ talkin’.”
“Some, maybe.”
“Sounds to me like you already done made up your mind, Della May Allen.”
“Maybe so.”
“Then you don’t need me a-tellin’ you what to do, do you?”
“No. I s’pose not.”
Creed closed his eyes again. Della May got up to leave. She’d only gone a few steps when she heard Creed call, “Della May?”
“Yep?”
“If’n you do decide to do more talkin’, tell her thank you kindly about Scalawag.”