The Twelfth Child (Serendipity #1)(24)
“For the love of God, Abigail Anne! It’s high time you start realizing that this ain’t some storybook tale! You might not fancy you’re in love with Henry Keller right now, but that boy cares about you! He’s one who’ll take good care of you and your babies, the way I did your mama.”
“Mama’s life wasn’t so good.”
“That’s enough!” William slammed his fist against the table so hard that a plate of eggs flew off and splattered on the floor. “You’ll do as I say!”
Abigail heard the cawing of a whole flock of black crows ringing in her ears and she snapped back, “I’ll not marry Henry Keller!”
William smacked her face so hard she fell to the floor. “You’ll do as I say!” he repeated, then stomped out the kitchen door.
When Abigail arrived at school that morning she still had a large red welt on her cheek. “Why honey,” Miss Troy said, “what has happened to your face?” When the other students turned to look, Abigail Anne burst into tears. Miss Troy, being the kind of woman who could make her intent known with a single glance, gave out a reading assignment then went over and put her arm around Abigail’s shoulder. “Now, now,” she said, “nothing’s that bad.” She pulled a lace handkerchief from the pocket of her skirt and dabbed at Abigail’s face. “Come with me, honey,” she whispered, and guided the teary-eyed girl to a side room that was used mostly for storage. “Now tell me what’s troubling you,” Judith Troy said in the same comforting way as Livonia might have.
After she’d heard the complete story of how William expected Abigail to marry Henry Keller, Miss Troy called Will into the side room with them. “Is such a thing true?” she asked the boy and when he answered that it was, she huffed and puffed like an angry bull. “William Lannigan must be living in the Middle Ages!” she said. “Now-days young ladies are free to marry whomever they choose!”
“Papa’s mighty difficult to reason with,” Will said, “even when he’s dead wrong.”
“Oh, is he? Well, we’ll see about that!” Miss Troy waggled her finger and stuck out that pointy little chin of hers, “You just tell your papa that I’ll be out to see him this Saturday! Times have changed and it’s high time he changed with them!”
“If I was you, I’d bring along Preacher Broody,” Will told her.
“I’m not one bit afraid of your papa!” Miss Troy snapped.
“Maybe not,” Will said, “but Papa’s more inclined to listen to the preacher.”
Abigail’s black crows were cawing louder than ever.
The following Saturday morning Abigail was so nervous that she burnt the biscuits and brewed coffee so bitter William left a full cup sitting on the kitchen table. Given the irritating nature of these things added to the fact that she’d forgotten to feed the chickens again yesterday, Abigail was earnestly praying Miss Troy would have Preacher Broody in tow. When the surrey pulled up at the house and Judith Troy was alone, Abigail’s heart fell.
“Morning, Mister Lannigan,” the teacher said.
“Morning.” William was stacking wood and didn’t bother to stop.
“I’ve come to talk about Abigail,” Judith Troy said. “Abigail Anne wants to continue her education instead of getting married; and I believe you should respect her wishes…” Miss Troy didn’t get the chance to finish what she had in mind for William turned his back and walked into the barn. “Mister Lannigan,” she called after him but there was no answer.
Abigail, who had been standing there wanting to take it all in, shrugged as if to indicate she had no idea what her father’s actions meant.
Judith Troy stepped down from the surrey and started toward the barn.
“Get back in the buggy and get off my farm!” William said as he came out of the barn with his shotgun leveled at her head.
“Now, Mister Lannigan, there’s no need…”
“Get off my farm,” he repeated.
“Mister Lannigan, the girl needs…”
“Needs? I’m the one who decides what she needs and don’t need.”
“But…”
William fired a shot into the air. “I’m warning you!”
Abigail went running over to her father, “Stop, Papa! Please stop! Miss Troy don’t mean no harm. She’s just trying to help.”
“I ain’t in need of any schoolteacher’s help raising my family!” William lowered the barrel of his shotgun just enough to show he was willing to allow Miss Troy to walk safely back to the surrey.
“Please, Miss Troy,” Abigail pleaded, “…it’s best you go.”
Now, Judith Troy was willful and stubborn but she wasn’t foolish enough to take on a twenty-two gauge shotgun, so she climbed back into the buggy and left. But after she’d turned the surrey around and had gotten no more than a few feet along the road she looked back and shouted, “You think about it, Mister Lannigan. Think about it!”
William fired another shot into the air.
After the confrontation with Judith Troy, William flew into a rage the likes of which Abigail had not seen for three years. He grabbed the girl by the arm, yanked her into the house and pushed her down into a straight-backed kitchen chair. “You sit there,” he shouted, “sit there ‘till I say you can get up!” Then he stomped back and forth across the room ranting on and on about how he would not have some meddlesome busybody telling him what to do with his children. “You’ll not go to that schoolhouse another day!” he told Abigail and that’s when she started to cry. Of course, she could have shed enough tears to fill the RappahannockRiver and it wouldn’t have made a difference to William, for at this point his mind was made up.