Little House Lewd: Chapter 2

Laura heard a stove lid rattle. For one glorious instant she was in bed with Mary, and Pa was building the morning fire. Then she saw the white curtain and she knew where she was, remembered what had happened the night before, and worried for the day that lay ahead of her.

She heard Mr. Brewster take down the milk pail, and the door slammed behind him. On the other side of the curtain Mrs. Brewster got slowly out of bed. Johnny whimpered, and was still. Laura did not move; she felt that if she moved even an inch something would pounce on her.

Mr. Brewster came in with the milk, and she heard him say, “I’m going to start a fire in the schoolhouse. I’ll be back by the time breakfast’s ready.” The door slammed again behind him.

Laura took this opportunity to throw the covers off and get up. The air was biting cold, her teeth chattering. Her fingers stiffened so that she struggled to button her dress and shoes

The kitchen was warmer, but Mrs. Brewster’s mood made it feel much colder. She was setting the teakettle on the stove when Laura entered the room.

“Good morning,” Laura said in the most cheerful tone she could manage, but her voice caught in her throat when the other woman turned to glare at her. Mrs. Brewster’s face was pale save for the dark circles under her eyes denoting how her night had gone.

“Oh it’s a dandy morning for you I’m sure,” Mrs. Brewster seethed. “You didn’t bear the burden of what all your flouncing and flirting caused last night!”

Laura tried to say something, she wasn’t sure what, but only managed to stutter.

Mrs. Brewster leveled a glare so menacing Laura took a step back.

“You get out of my home this very day you harlot! I won’t have you in here turning my husband to devilment or stealing him out from under me! Go get your own husband and leave my family alone!” Mrs. Brewster screeched. She turned violently back to the stove, her thin shoulders shaking.

They both knew that no matter how badly either of them wanted Laura out of that shanty, it was not possible until the school term was over. Laura suddenly understood what Mrs. Brewster’s immediate demeanor towards her must mean: this was not the first time.

Laura could imagine other  young women being lured out to this desolate stretch of land with the promise of room, board, and decent pay, only to be met by the lascivious actions of Mr. Brewster. No wonder Mrs. Brewster had immediately been so angry, had hated Laura on sight. She could not live out here, alone, without a husband to provide for her. Perhaps she had had no choice in who she married, and had tried for too long to make the best of it before realizing that this pattern would repeat.

Laura washed her face in the frigid water basin and smoothed her hair. In the little looking glass above the wash stand she looked at herself soberly, setting her resolve to do her best to get through the ordeal.

She tied on her apron and tentatively approached the stove where Mrs. Brewster stood shaking and sniffling over a pan of frying salt pork. Johnny had begun to whimper in the other room.

“Let me fix the potatoes while you dress him,” she said gently.

The other woman did not say anything, but she turned and walked quickly into the other room and closed the door behind her.

Laura sliced cold boiled potatoes into another frying pan, seasoned them, and covered them before turning the slices of meat and setting the table neatly. By the time Mrs. Brewster brought Johnny to the table and Mr. Brewster had returned the room was warmed from the glowing stove, but the atmosphere was still frigid.

Only short, necessary words were said at the breakfast table. Laura couldn’t bring herself to look at any of her table mates. Hearing Mr. Brewster’s grunting replies to anything made her think of his sounds the night before, and made her flush red in embarrassment.

It was a relief when she was able to put on her wraps, take her books, and leave the house. She set out on the half-mile walk through the snow to the schoolhouse. The way was unbroken except for Mr. Brewster’s footsteps, which were so far apart that Laura could not walk in them. The length of  his stride reminded her of how large he was, and a fear settled in her middle at the implication of what he could do to someone as small as she was.

Suddenly she stopped floundering through the snow and laughed at the absurdity of her situation. I dread to go on, and I would not go back. Teaching school can not possibly be as bad as staying in that house with the Brewsters.”

Bolstering herself with that thought, she plowed onwards. Black, soft-coal smoke rose against the morning sky from the old claim shanty’s stovepipe. Two more lines of footprints came to its door, and Laura heard voices inside. For a moment she gathered her courage, then she opened the door and went in.

The board walls were not battened, allowing streaks of sunshine to stream through the cracks and light upon a row of six homemade seats and desks marching down the middle of the room. Beyond them on the studding of the opposite wall, a square of boards had been nailed and painted black to make a blackboard.

In front of the seats stood a big heating stove. It’s round sides and top were cherry-red from the heat of the fire, and standing around it were the scholars that Laura must teach. They all looked up at her. There were five of them, and Laura was disheartened to see that two boys and a girl were clearly larger than her.

“Good morning,” she managed finally.

They all answered “Good morning,” while still staring at her. Their eyes followed her across the small room to the teacher’s desk where she placed her books, took off her coat and hood, and hung them on a nail behind the desk. She glanced at the small clock atop the desk and saw there were five whole minutes until class would start at nine.

Slowly, trying to use up time, she took off her mittens and stepped to the stove. She held her hands to it to warm, all eyes still on her.

“It is cold this morning, isn’t it?” she heard herself say, then without waiting for an answer, “Do you think you can keep warm in the seats away from the stove?”

One of the tall boys, the red headed one, said quickly, “I’ll sit in the back seat; it’s the coldest.”

The tall girl said, “Charles and I have to sit together, we have to study from the same books.”

“That’s good; then you can all sit nearer the stove,” Laura said. To her joyful surprise, the five minutes were gone. “You may all take your seats. School will begin.”

The little girl took the front seat; behind her sat the little boy, then the tall girl and Charles, and behind them the last tall boy. Laura rapped her pencil on the table. “School will come to order. I will now take your names and ages.”

The little girl and boy were Ruby and Tommy Brewster, nine and eleven years old respectively. Their older brother was the tall boy sitting in the back, Clarence, who was nineteen, and they were all children of Mr. Brewster’s brother. When Clarence had shared his age he noticed the surprised look on her face, and explained that there was so little to do in winter that he had decided to complete one last term of school before he called it quits. His jovial tone made it clear that he did not plan to use school for more than a distraction from the desolate boredom of the barren prairie. His saucy expression and laughing eyes under an unruly mop of dark orange hair let her know he would be trouble as soon as he let it be known that his uncle was the head of the school board.

The other two students were Charles and Martha Harrison. Charles was seventeen, thin and pale and slow of speech. Martha was sixteen, quick enough to speak for them both.

By the time Laura had recorded all their names and ages, discovered where they were in their learning, and set them lessons it was time for recess. The students put on their wraps and went out to play in the snow, and Laura breathed a sigh of relief. The first quarter of the first day was over.

She began to plan. She would have reading, arithmetic, and grammar recitations in the forenoon, and, in the afternoon, reading again, history, writing, and spelling.

After fifteen minutes she rapped on the window to call the pupils in. Until noon she heard and patiently corrected their reading aloud until near noon there was a knock at the schoolhouse door. Startled, Laura opened it to find Mr. Brewster standing there. Her stomach sank at the sight of him, but she did her best to hide it and invite him into the warm room.

“Good morning Mr. Brewster,” she said brightly, hiding her nerves. “To what do we owe the pleasure of your visit?”

He held up a dinner pail. “The missus forgot to pack your dinner this morning, so I thought I’d bring it by.”

Laura thanked him warmly and turned to the class. “Let’s go ahead and break for dinner now students.”

She sat alone at her desk eating her bread and butter while the others gathered around the stove, talking and joking while they ate. Clarence and Charles talked with Mr. Brewster about plans for spring planting, and Laura noticed Martha sneaking glances at Clarence while the others were not paying attention.

After a short while the students put on their wraps to go outdoors for fresh air, leaving Laura alone in the little schoolhouse with Mr. Brewster. Anxiously she sat at her desk, trying to think of something to say to break the oppressive silence. She opened her mouth, but couldn’t get any words out. Mr. Brewster stood at the heater with his tired eyes fixed on her, but not as if he really saw her. The expression startled her so badly she shivered.

“Thank you for bringing my dinner, Mr. Brewster. Do you have much work to do this afternoon?” she asked, trying to be pleasant, but also trying to prompt him to leave. She noticed now that he was not looking at her face, but slightly lower, and at once she realized he had been staring at her chest the whole time.

Laura’s face burned and she quickly wrapped her shawl more closely around herself to cover her chest.

“It’s time I call the children in,” Laura said briskly, standing to go call them when Mr. Brewster’s large hands caught her shoulders and stopped her.

He loomed over her, making her feel smaller than ever. She was too afraid to look up, but he grabbed her chin and forced her face upwards. His other large hand closed over her right breast, covering it completely, and gave it a hard squeeze. She was so afraid she couldn’t breathe. The pressure of his hand became vice-like for a moment until it hurt. He gave it a tug as if he would take it with him, but let go of her and stepped towards the door.

When the door had slammed closed behind him Laura collapsed into her chair, shaking so hard her teeth chattered. She had to choke back a sob. Desperately she wanted to flee from the little shack and run all twelve miles back home through the ice and snow. Taking deep gulps of air, Laura imagined Mary’s stricken face if Laura failed now and she had to leave college. This was the only opportunity Mary had to get an education. She was there to learn how to take care of herself if the worst ever happened and she was left alone with no family. Laura could not, would not, fail her older sister.

Mary has the strength of character to travel hundreds of miles from home blind to learn. I am only twelve miles away from home, and I have my sight. Laura reminded herself.

At long last Laura’s shaking ceased. Resolutely, she righted her clothing and went to the door to call in her pupils. They came in briskly breathing out clouds of frosty breath and shaking cold air from their coats and mufflers as they hung them up. They were all glowing from the cold and exercise, but something about the way Clarence looked at her told of a mirth of a different nature.

“The fire is low. Would you put more coal on, please, Charles?” Laura asked, turning away from Clarence’s smirking face.

Willing, but slowly, Charles lifted the heavy hod of coal and dumped most of it into the stove.

“I’ll do that next time!” Clarence piped up jovially from his seat at the back of the room. A wide grin was plastered across his freckled face, and his brown eyes twinkled at her.

Laura did not respond to him. She was not sure if he was being impertinent, and if he did mean to be what could Laura even do about it? He was a large husky young man, bigger than she could ever hope to discipline.

“School will come to order,” she said, and began the afternoon lessons.

The school was small, but she thought it best to follow the routine of the larger school she attended in town. Each class came to the front to recite their lessons. Even Ruby and Tommy, who were each a class to their own, came to the front to recite alone. Laura allowed her younger pupils to spell slowly, and if they made a mistake they were permitted to try again.

Next came the three larger pupils. Martha, Charles, and Clarence recited their spelling. Martha made no mistakes, but Charles missed five words, and Clarence missed three.

For the first time, Laura must punish students.

“You may take your seat, Martha,” she said. “Charles and Clarence, go the blackboard and write the words you missed three times each.”

Charles slowly went and began to write his words. Clarence, on the other hand, threw a saucy look over his shoulder at Laura before rapidly writing in large sprawling letters that covered his half of the blackboard. Only six words fit due to the size of his letters.

He turned to Laura with a grin, and without asking permission to speak he said, “Teacher! The board’s too small.”

He was making a joke of the punishment for failing a lesson he clearly did not care about, and making a show of defying Laura before the other pupils. For a long, dreadful moment he stood there, his face laughing at her.

She fixed him with a level stare, and said, “Yes, the board is small, Clarence. You will need to erase what you have written and write the words again more carefully. Do take care to make them smaller, and I am sure you will find there to be room enough.”

For a moment she was not sure what he would do. He had to obey her, for she couldn’t fathom what she could do if he didn’t. Still grinning Clarence turned to the blackboard and wiped out the scrawls. He wrote the three words three times each, and below the signed his name with a flourish.

With relief, Laura saw that it was four o’clock.

“You may put away your books,” she said. When every book was neat on the shelves beneath the desk tops, she dismissed school.

Clarence was first to get his coat and cap and muffler on and bolt out the door with a gleeful shout and Tommy at his heals. Charles and Martha wrapped themselves while Laura helped Ruby, and soon they were all on their ways home.

Laura stood by the window and watched them go. She could see Mr. Brewster’s brother’s claim shanty, only half a mile away. Smoke blew from it’s stovepipe and its west window glinted back the light from the sinking sun. Clarence and Tommy scuffled in the snow while Ruby’s little red hood bobbed along behind them.

The school shanty had no window to see the northwest sky. If a blizzard came up, she could not know that it was coming until it struck. She immediately put that thought out of her mind. If a blizzard came, knowing it was on the way would do no good as it would arrive faster than any of them could walk back to their homes.

Laura cleaned the blackboard and with the broom swept the dust and snow on the floor through the cracks of the floorboards. For a few minutes she needlessly straightened the desks to delay leaving. Finally, there was nothing else to do. She shut the stove’s drafts, put on her wraps, took her books and dinner pail, and shutting the door carefully behind her, she set out on her morning path towards Mrs. Brewster’s house.

Her first day as a teacher was over. She was thankful for that, but she was also apprehensive to return to Mrs. Brewster’s company. She thought to walk slower, but already her feet were so cold they hurt, and she knew she could not stay out in the snow for longer. Laura did her best to make herself feel cheerful. Mrs. Brewster was hard to get acquainted with, Laura thought, and she had a bad impression from past experiences with previous teachers, but she could not always be cross. Perhaps this evening would not be unpleasant.

Laura went in, snowy and glowing from the cold, and spoke cheerfully to Mrs. Brewster, but to all her efforts, Mrs. Brewster simply glared at her. Hopes dashed, Laura quietly went to the little bedroom to put away her things and change clothes. Mr. Brewster was not in the house, but she rushed in case he returned home while she was undressed.

She set the table and tidied the best she could while Mrs. Brewster stood at the stove cooking and ignoring her. At supper, no one said a word. The stillness was so sullen and hateful that Laura, try as she might, could not speak. Each time she looked up from her plate she saw the bruises around Mrs. Brewster’s eyes, or worried she would see Mr. Brewster staring. She was relieved when the meal was finally over.

Again she helped with the work, though Mrs. Brewster left the majority to her while she went to sit and rock in a fuming silence. Mr. Brewster lighted the lamp before she was finished cleaning up. When she was done, she brought her schoolbooks to the table, setting herself lessons and determining to learn them before bedtime. She had not yet graduated, and it was important to keep up with her class in town if she hoped to be able to at the end of the summer term. She also hoped she could study hard enough to forget where she was.

She sat small in her chair, for the silence seemed to press against her from all sides. Mrs. Brewster sat idle. Mr. Brewster held Johnny asleep on his lap and stared into the fire through the stove’s open draft. The clock struck seven, then, eight, then nine. At last Laura made an effort to speak.

“It is getting late. I’ll say good night now.”

Mrs. Brewster predictably paid her no attention. Mr. Brewster started, as if from deep thought, and said only “Good night.” He made no motion to move Johnny or get up as she left the room.

Before Laura was even behind the curtain in the cold dark bedroom Mrs. Brewster began to quarrel at him. Laura tried not to hear. She pulled the quilts over her head and pressed her ear tight against the pillow, but there was nothing she could do to stop herself from hearing. Mrs. Brewster wanted her to hear, and made sure she did.

“I will not slave for a hoity-toity snip that has nothing to do but dress up and sit in a schoolhouse all day! I won’t slave for you either the way you eye her up! You keep your damned eyes off her and your damn hands off me while you’re at it!” Mrs. Brewster seethed so loudly her voice reverberated off the board walls. “Don’t you dare come at me again like you did last night Louis Brewster or I’ll be going back East with or without you!”

She went on and on, the sound of her voice making Laura feel sick. It was a voice that enjoyed hurting people.

Laura did not know what to do. She wanted to go home, but she must not even think of home or she might cry. She had to think what to do. There was nowhere else to stay; the other two houses in the settlement were only claim shanties. At the Harrisons’ there were four in the one room, and at Mr. Brewster’s brother’s house there were five. Not to mention the thought of being around Clarence deepened that sickness she was already feeling. None of those houses could possibly make room for Laura.

She did not really make Mrs. Brewster any work, she thought. She made her bed, helped with the kitchen work. In fact she had done the majority of it that day.

In the other room Mrs. Brewster was quarreling now about the flat country and the wind and the cold; she wanted to go back East. The more she went on the more Laura began to understand.

She isn’t mad at me, she’s only quarreling about me because that’s all she can quarrel about and she wants to. She’s a selfish, mean woman. Meanly, Laura thought she even understood why Mr. Brewster was seeking female attention outside his marriage.

Mr. Brewster did not say a word. After the way he had physically abused his wife the night before, Laura was surprised that he simply accepted to be shouted at without reaction.

Laura thought, I’ve just got to bear it, too. There isn’t anywhere else I can stay.

She turned towards the wall, pulling the quilts over her head, and did her best to ignore the shouting in the other room. For a long time she shivered under the quilts until she finally grew warm enough to drift off.

Warm summer air blew one of her braids over her shoulder as Laura followed the twinkling lights of the lantern down the path to the outhouses away from the boarding house. There was no moon, only stars above and the glowing windows of the boarding house behind her, but she had never been afraid of the dark. She loved the nighttime sounds of crickets in the tall prairie grass to the sides of the path, the frog songs in the ponds. This far from the house even the loud singing group of her family and the boarders melted into a distant noise.

She reached the short row of little latrines and had just pulled open one of the doors when something grabbed her roughly from behind and shoved her into the tiny room. Too startled to scream, she stumbled over her own feet and dropped the lantern. Instantly she was blind in the dark, smelly little room with whatever had shoved her. She turned halfway, thinking to slip past the attacker and through the open door when she heard it slam closed and the latch drop.

“Who are you? What do you want?” she demanded, trying to wrench her arm out of the hard grasp.

There was no answer. She was shoved again to face away from the person, her arm twisted behind her back so that she was forced to bow over. Anger overwhelmed her and she stomped as hard as she could, the heal of her shoe coming down hard on a boot. Another hand fumbled in the dark trying to hold her still. The arm wrapped around her front trying to pin her against the large body behind her. Her feet off the ground, Laura kicked backwards, connecting with shins hard enough to make her own feet hurt. She thrashed, threw her head back, and felt the back of her head make contact with a face. A sharp crack, and a man’s cursing, and finally she was released as the person grabbed for their own face.

Laura quickly groped in the dark for the door latch, throwing the door open and bursting through it before the attacker could react. She was sure of freedom now. Her feet already poised for their second running step when something gripped her braid and yanked her backwards so hard her neck cramped. For a moment she couldn’t move for the pain of it. She was being pulled back into the latrine, back into the suffocating stinking darkness with a man who’s face she still hadn’t seen.

Fear overcame her fury for only a moment before she became too furious to think reasonably. She turned into the pull on her hair, using the momentum to slash her fingernails into the face of the other person. Again she was let go, but she did not run this time. She pulled her leg back and drove her foot into the juncture between the dark shape’s legs with as much force as she could manage.

Instantly, he crumpled with a high squealing grunt, collapsing on the dirt floor half in and half out of the latrine. Laura kicked again and again and again. She didn’t know where her feet connected, only that the man was screaming with every blow and that she could not stop. If she stopped he would grab her again.

Only when Ma shouted behind her and Pa’s familiar arms dragged her backwards did she finally give in. Lanterns surrounded her now, held by her uncle and aunt and cousins and some of the men who were staying in the boarding house. In their light, her cousin Charlie could be seen on the ground, curled up on his side and bleeding.

Though he was more than twice her size, Laura had beaten him senseless.