Free [Canadian West 01] - When Calls the Heart by Janette Oke Page A

chasing this unusual conveyance, teasing and
barking and snapping at the tires as they escorted us out of
town. I held my breath lest we hit one of them, but Pearlie's pa
drove as though they were not even there.
    It was a long, dusty, bumpy ride. The road certainly wasn't
built for speeding, and Pearlie's father couldn't have been accused of doing so. But lest I sound ungrateful, I was glad that I
didn't have to make this trip by wagon.
    I looked for my beloved mountains, but from this vantagepoint saw only tree-covered hills.
    We passed several fields that had been cleared from the
timbered countryside, many of them holding a grain crop in
various stages of ripening. Some fields grazed cattle or horses,
and I even saw a few sheep. Most of the homes and outbuildings were of log construction; I found them fascinating.
    I was about to tap Pearlie on the shoulder and ask how
much farther when I remembered that she wouldn't know
either, having never been to Pine Springs before. About ten
minutes later, we turned into a driveway and there stood a log
building that I realized must be my school.
    We drove on past it, across the browning grass, and pulled
up before a smaller building to the left and rear of the school
itself.
    "Here we are," Pearlie's father called above the roar of the
motor. It came to me that he did not plan to turn it off-he did
not wish the unpleasant exertion of starting it again. I didn't
blame him.
    I must have shown my bewilderment, for he boomed at me,
"The teacherage-where you'll be stayin'."
    Teacherage? I got my thoughts and my baggage gathered
together and crawled from the car. My companions did not
leave their positions in the auto.
    "I don't have a key!" I wailed through the auto's window.
    ?
"A key?"
    He acted as if he had never heard of such an object.
    "Yes, a key-to let myself in the house."

    "Won't need no key. Doesn't have a lock. Good-day,
ma'am." And he tipped his hat, pushed the shift lever into
gear, and the auto clattered and chugged its way out of the
yard.
    I watched them go. Pearlie waved wildly, and I lifted my
hand in a limp salute. When they had disappeared from sight,
I gathered up my parcels and tried the door. Pearlie's pa had
been right; it opened readily to my touch, and I entered what
was now my new home.
    I had fully expected that I would be a boarder in some
neighborhood home. A funny little fear rippled through me.
But I told myself not to be silly, that living alone would be
much more to my liking and that I would be so close to my
classroom.
    I learned later that the teacherage had been constructed
over the last winter as an added incentive to Mr. Higgins to
provide the community with a teacher. I was its first occupant.
    I passed through an entry into a small room which was a
combined kitchen and living room. A bit of a cupboard stood
in one corner and next to it was a very used stove. A fire was
burning in it, so someone must have recently been in the
teacherage. A teakettle sat on the stove and sent forth a
merry, soft purr with its column of wavering steam. Something about that kettle suddenly made me feel much more at
home. I felt myself relax.My eyes quickly glanced around the
room. It also contained a table and two chairs, mended and
freshly painted a pale green. Two stuffed chairs, with homemade crazy-quilt throws carefully covering them and a small
table sitting between them, made my living room. A chest of
sorts stood against one wall.
    I could see into a second room, and after making a hurried
survey of the first, I quickly passed through the adjoining door
to get a better look. This room contained a bed and a dresser.
The furniture looked worn, but clean. The bed's mattress
looked lumpy, but a new cover had been sewn for it of freshly
laundered floursacking. A brand-new pillow graced the spot
where my head would rest; I wondered if its soft downiness came from a neighbor's fowls. A colorful crazy quilt was