An Excerpt from With the Sun’s Rising

 

An Excerpt from With the Sun’s Rising

By John W. Vander Velden

 

 

Elizabeth closed the door of the building that was both a one room schoolhouse and the only church in the valley known as Misty Creek.

The first day of school had ended in the white-painted structure that stood among the oak trees on the lakeshore, and she felt content at how the day had unfolded. One could not expect much educational progress after a long break. It would take a few days to reestablish boundaries and rein in the boisterous youngsters.

Elizabeth had to smile when she thought about Mark Tomkins bringing his pet to school. Of course, the lad knew that bringing in an animal, even a favorite snake, would not be allowed. She had sent him out to return the slithering, striped creature to the box that held him—in his father’s barn. It seemed Lisa Tomkins, Mark’s mother, was no more accepting of Sammy, that’s what Mark had named the beast, than Elizabeth. On the boy’s return, she reminded him and the rest of the class that their pets must remain at home, and warned that stricter penalties would be required if that rule was broken. A look of sadness spread over the faces of the younger boys. Perhaps they thought that Mark had set a precedent. That they too could bring a favored cat, dog, or as Elizabeth had heard, Howard Cline’s crow to the classroom.

The door closed with a familiar click and she turned to go down the three steps. She would walk across the dam and bridges to the mill and share the day’s events with Matthew. As she began, a rider approached. The tall slender golden-brown steed ambled easily in her direction. The rider, a man dressed in work clothes with caramel brown trousers and a rust-colored shirt beneath his brown vest, pulled the reins, bringing the horse to a stop at her side. Young Will Clark, the son of the school board president, looked down upon her with his dark brooding eyes, which were shaded by the black hat he always wore.

Elizabeth glanced to the west and the road. “Will, your sister has gone home.”

For a moment he did not answer. She wondered if he still held fast to the vow he made last spring. A promise that he would never speak to her. He looked down the road, the way his half-sister had gone, and returned his dark eyes to her. “She knows the way.” His words were flat.

Elizabeth became uncomfortable beneath his stare. She turned toward the mill. “I must be going.”

Again, he did not immediately respond. When Elizabeth began to move on her way, she heard him say, “Folks say you had some trouble coming in from Thimble.”

Elizabeth froze, drew a deep breath and turned to face him. “Yes, Will, we were attacked.”