“You should ask him then,” Mac said. It wasn’t his place to get between Daniel and his father. He probably shouldn’t even have mentioned the loan. But if he didn’t give Samuel a valid reason to be on the land, the man might haul Mac into the sheriff’s office at gunpoint. A rifle hung in a scabbard on Abercrombie’s saddle.
“I got another beef with that friend of yourn, Zeke Pershing,” Samuel announced. “Might have to sue him again.”
“What’s your quarrel this time?” Mac asked. Samuel would only give him half the story. He’d have to talk to Zeke to get the rest of it.
“Creek between our claims changed course,” Samuel said. “Now it runs through Pershing’s land. By rights, I should get the water what used to flow on my land.”
“How is your deed written?” Mac asked.
“Don’t matter what the damn deed say,” Samuel replied, spitting a stream of tobacco juice. “I got rights to the water.”
“Why don’t I talk to Zeke?” Mac hoped he could mediate this dispute before Samuel filed a lawsuit. But once Abercrombie got his dander up, it was hard to calm him down. “How’s your family?” Mac asked. Samuel lived with his wife Harriet and daughter-in-law Louisa. Samuel’s older son Douglass had been killed in a gunfight many years earlier. Douglass’s widow Louisa relied on Samuel for support.
“Doin’ well enough,” Samuel said. “Annabelle’s expectin’.”
Annabelle was Douglass’s and Louisa’s oldest daughter. She’d married Zeke’s brother Jonathan a year ago. Despite the animosity between Pershings and Abercrombies, their families were becoming interconnected through the generations. Mac smiled. “Congratulations. This will be your first great-grandchild, won’t it?”
“Darn straight.” Samuel’s face beamed. “I’m hopin’ for a boy.” The man had a soft spot for his family, and Mac couldn’t begrudge him that.
Jenny drove her buggy to Hannah Pershing’s farmhouse. Hannah had invited her to tea to meet a woman who ran a boarding school in Lafayette, a town across the Willamette River from Oregon City. Both Jenny and Hannah had taught country schools in the past. When Jenny arrived, she was surprised to see Esther Abercrombie there as well. Esther had never taught school and had less education than Jenny and Hannah.
After making introductions, Hannah limped about her kitchen as she served her guests tea and cake. Jenny rose to help her, then they sat at the table with Esther and Mrs. Duniway.
“Abigail and I became acquainted at a Women’s Temperance Society meeting a few months ago,” Hannah explained. “She asked me about my days as a teacher in the country before Zeke and I were married. I told her I took over the school from Jenny, and she requested to meet you. She runs a boarding school for girls.”
Jenny smiled. “My teaching was a matter of necessity,” she said. “I was alone while my husband was in California, and the children needed schooling.”
Mrs. Duniway nodded. “I understand. Due to an unfortunate accident, my husband is an invalid. I must support our family. I taught before we were married, though I have only a year of formal education myself. Still, I have read widely, and I kept the accounts for my husband’s business.”
Jenny wondered how a woman with little education could manage a roomful of children, and she asked Mrs. Duniway about her school.
“I teach only girls,” Mrs. Duniway explained. “I have set aside two rooms in our home to house them, and another room for lessons.”
“What do you teach?” Jenny asked.
Mrs. Duniway listed her classes, and Jenny’s eyebrows rose in appreciation. The woman had developed her lesson plans in some detail. Mrs. Duniway instructed the girls not only in the basics of reading, penmanship, and arithmetic, but also in history and household management.
“Do you have books and other materials?” Jenny asked. “Slates, paper, and the like? Those were in short supply on the frontier when I taught, though that was more than a decade ago. Now there are regular ships from the East.”
“The situation had already improved by the time I took over Jenny’s school in fifty-one,” Hannah said. “My problem was that many of my students were not interested in learning.”
Jenny laughed as she and Hannah shared a glance. “Of course, we taught both boys and girls. And half of the children were Pershings.” As she spoke, she felt Esther bristle beside her—the Pershing students had been Esther’s younger siblings.
“My brothers wanted to farm, not spend their time on book learning,” Esther said. “Our mother had died on the trail, and our father died here in Oregon—”
“Oh, I’m so sorry, Mrs. Abercrombie,” Mrs. Duniway exclaimed. “My mother died on our journey west also.”
“Mine died after birthing my youngest brother,” Esther said, her expression softening as she smiled at Mrs. Duniway.
“And mine of cholera,” said Mrs. Duniway. Jenny remembered Mac’s near-death from that dreadful disease, but she let Esther and Abigail tell their stories of grief along the trail.
From there, the conversation flitted from tales of their pioneer journeys to the need for school sessions that accommodated farm schedules to the weather in Oregon. Jenny concluded Abigail Duniway would do a fine job as a teacher.
“But it would be helpful,” Jenny told Mrs. Duniway, “if you had an assistant. I had Esther’s sister helping me. Rachel took the younger pupils while I worked with the older.”
Hannah nodded. “And my niece Faith often performed the same role for me. She later became a teacher herself.”
Mrs. Duniway shrugged. “I can see the class of an assistant, but it would be a squeeze in my household. Plus, I do not know any young women I would trust. Can you suggest anyone?”
Jenny eyed Esther and almost mentioned Esther’s oldest daughter Cordelia. But with a new baby coming, Esther would need her daughter at home. She smiled at Mrs. Duniway. “We shall think on it and let you know. In the meantime, you might find a girl in Lafayette who suits you.”
After his conversation with Samuel, Mac decided to stop by Zeke Pershing’s claim before returning home. He might as well hear Zeke’s side of the water dispute. He found Zeke sowing corn in a field near his home with his younger brothers.
“It’s as Samuel said,” Zeke told Mac. “The creek changed course during this spring’s run-off. Now it flows through my land, instead of formin’ the border between our claims. I’m willin’ for him to take some of the water, but that’s still my land on both sides of the creek, same as always. It’s twenty acres of prime pasture.”
“Then you’d work with him to divert water from the creek to his land?”
“Don’t see why not,” Zeke said. “Unless he decides to make a mountain out of a molehill. But you know Samuel—that might be his preference.”
Mac shook his head with a grin. Then he remembered his conversation with Daniel. “Did Daniel tell you there are deserters in these parts? He said folks should be careful. And after what happened with Hannah years ago, I wouldn’t want any of your family attacked.” Zeke’s wife Hannah had fended off an intruder on their homestead who was later convicted of killing a man.
Zeke nodded. “I heard. I’ve told Hannah to keep a rifle handy. And not to let Hope or Isaiah out of sight.”
