In the night, he kissed her cheek tasting evil-vile salt discovering that she cried an errant tear.
“What is it, Dear?” He queried, fearing
he had insulted her with some wrong perceived intent.
“I’m just so happy here with you, I
thought for a moment of my past.” Traci
paused, unsure of telling the tale but knowing it to be too late; she had
already begun. He waited with patience.
“My father owns a newspaper in
Philadelphia; we were rich and had it all; plans were made.
“My sister married the banker’s son and
lives in misery, though quite well. The family had me slated to wed the lumber
mill ‘soon-to-be-heir’ with his smell of sawdust in his fancy silk suit and a
chin absent existence. I cannot tolerate ‘weakness’ for habit
lack-of-courage-will. I won’t!
“I threw it all away and glad; I refuse
to abide any faux-elite. I came west
to teach!”
She sobbed and Micah comforted his love.
“And, are ye sorry for thy choice, to live…poor?
“And,” he dared after several quiet
thoughts, “now you think perhaps you chose wrongly? Absent proper consideration
of the dire consequences for rash judgment?” He waited.
Traci hugged him tight and tender kissed
his cheek sorry that he had misunderstood her plea.
“Oh!”
She whispered, heartily. “Never! I
would not regress to that torment for anything. I am Free! And filled with Life!
and Love! with you.” She paused. “I
cry for my---sister…forever lost!
“Her biggest delight, aside from a
monstrous Philadelphia mansion is the crystal chandelier proudly perched as
pinnacle declaration to wealth above her elaborate dining room table. It must sport a
thousand crystal teardrop cut diamond sparkle bangles and bobbles and they
dance a merry light as lit candles illuminate the glass trinkets spirit all the
while coating them with soot.”
Traci giggled an almost evil thought at the shear idiocy of such elaborate faux elitism.
“To this modern world she has it all and they think I am betrayed. Such sophisticated foolery!
“As usual, the faux-elites have it wrong---but ever-again…they simply refuse to see Truth!!”
She paused, organizing her thoughts and
words as Micah held her close, carefully listening.
“So? I disowned it all! Couldn’t stand the vile
hypocrisy! I turned---and…walked away!
“With the meager money I had scrambled
to quickly accumulate, mostly selling value
trinkets for pennies-on-the-dollar, I moved steadily westward, not knowing
‘what’ I was looking for but desperate to not go back to the insanity of life
as I once knew it.”
Traci paused, afraid she had opined too
much. “Do thee think me demented, Micah?”
He laughed an easy respect; kissed her
forehead. “No! Dear! You might well be surprised?”
She wondered at his deliverance, but, he
offered no further explanation.
“When I arrived in Denver, the Indian
children were not allowed to attend the school; I thought it a travesty that
these Innocents should be purposely
deprived of education, so I rented an old warehouse and opened my Indian School. All were welcome: Indian
and white and others.
“It took a while, months, but finally,
the younger children came and, eventually the older ones, too. I quickly found
the Indian children had an eager curiosity for learning; they were smart. But,
the Denver elites turned out to be no
better than the society-biddies I had
forsaken in the east. They ridiculed me for helping the heathens; for offering
the a way out of poverty.
“The whites had their own school run by
an ‘educated’ man from Chicago. He stirred the flames against the ‘woman’
schoolmarm and my Indian-‘brats’, as he termed them.
“So?” Traci’s eyes blazed and her tone
turned defiant, reflecting her state-of-mind as it had been some three years
ago, “I went straight to the office of the prestigious Denver Post newspaper, walked right into the editor’s office and
requested he publish a public challenge to the ‘elite’ school to a Spelling-Bee
competition with my Indian School pupils.
“He laughed me out of his office. Said
he never heard of such insolence. Why?
The very idea!? I left the office red-faced as my students---but…I’ll not be
deterred---nor…denied.
“I went right over to Sheriff Johnny,
told him my tale and my challenge; he listened politely.”
“Uh!” Micah interrupted her angry flow.
“The Sheriff is a personal friend of mine. He knows how to get things done,
right!” He smiled a knowing understanding which eluded Traci.
“Anyway, there are rumors around
Denver-town that some Mystery man
owns the place; nobody seems to know his identity; some think he’s an eastern
financier, very rich. Others believe he is really a consortium of influential locals masquerading as a single
individual so as to protect their anonymity. Who knows? Who cares? Anyhow,
Johnny got the challenge issued.
“The private schoolmaster had to comply;
his elite clientele also joined in
the clamor as they did not want to look afraid; anyway, they falsely reasoned,
there was no way the heathen Indian kids could out ‘spell’ their precious
erudite sophisticates! Yeah! Right!
(Part 6 of 9 Tomorrow)
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