Entangled Hearts

Chapter 1

Come forty miles from the city of Kingsford, stood the prosperous little town of Oakdale, in the heart of a beautiful valley. A valley made up of fields of gain and timothy hay, mingled with pastures of natural meadow grass. Here and there were large barns with rounded roofs, some of which, were painted red and others were covered with a tin roofing, that glistened in the sun like huge mounds of shining silver.

To the northward, acres of wild timber land stretched down from the foothills of the gorgeous snow-capped Rockies. A sparkling mountain stream had its source in a ravine, where stately pine trees grew. Them wending its way down through groves of Quaking Asps and Cotton Wood trees, it reached the fertile pastures, where dairy herds were grazing. All the way through the meadows, the lively, winding stream, which had been named Cotton Creek, was bordered on both sides by limber leafy willows, that swayed to and fro, as a merry breeze swept down from the pine-clad mountains.

Hay had come again, bringing with it new leaves for every tree and bush, fresh buttercups and violets for every hill and dell, and it brought back all of the birds, with their many songs of cheer. The whole countryside seemed to vibrate, with happiness, under the spell of spring.

The four o'clock gong had sounded and about ten minutes passed before Philip discovered that Eugene was still on the school grounds. All of the pupils had gone home, except three. Laura Mae Porter, eleven and Eugene Whitmer, thirteen, were seventh graders, while Phillip was in the eighth grade and was a year older than Eugene. Phillip's dark brown hair was glossy and wavy and his eyes were so brown that they looked almost black. Eugene's eyes were as blue as the early May sky that arched above them, and his light-colored hair, with its one deep wave, parallel to the parting, was smooth and always combed in place. The teachers who knew that the boys were both motherless, often commented on the neatness of them, compared to that of the farm boys in the school.

"What are you waiting for? Do you want to see Miss Hurst when Mae is through rehearsing?" Phillip asked Eugene.

"No. I am not in the school play." Eugene was sure that Phillip already knew that he was not in the play and was only trying to embarrass him.

"Well, why aren't you in the play?"

"There are eleven boys in my class and there are only ten parts for boys in the play, so when Mickey cried because the teacher decided to leave him out, I begged her to give him my part, I did not mind," Eugene explained.

"I noticed that you did not go to the auditorium to practice. I am sure glad that Laura Mae is the Queen in the play, no other girl in the whole school could have taken that part as she can," Phillip said proudly.

"You are right! Her big brown eyes and golden hair look swell with the spangled crown Miss Hurst has made for her," Eugene agreed, for he, too, was very proud of Laura Mae.

"Well, what are you waiting for, anyway?" Phillip asked again.

"What are you waiting for? I am waiting to walk home with Laura Mae so I can carry her books for her," Eugene admitted frankly.

"You might as well go on home, then, because I am going to carry her books home for her tonight because I am the prince who acts with her in the play." Phillip's black eyes flashed.

"We will see about that!" Eugene's blue ones shone like polished steel. "You might be tall enough to make the best prince in the play, but you will not boss me around!" He began pulling off his coat to prove his words.

"Oh, not so fast, here!" came a voice from the sideline. It was Laura Mae Porter's sister, Martha, who with her friend, June Malcolm, was on her way from the high school building, which was just a half a mile beyond the grade school. Martha had surmised that her sister was still rehearsing, so she stopped to ask the younger girl to carry her textbooks home for her. She and June were going to the library to work out their side of a class debate that they were in.

"Good night, Miss Hurst!!" came a cheerful little voice from the hall of the schoolhouse. "I will try and know my part even better by tomorrow." Laura Mae's satin bows of colored ribbon, by each ear, bobbed up and down on their respective curls, as she hurried down the schoolhouse steps. She had on a bright red wool sweater and high-topped lace shoes, neatly tied. In her arms were a number of books, it was necessary for her to do much of her studying at home since she had been given the leading part in the play that was to be presented as part of the "Closing Day Program."

"I arrived just in time to prevent a battle," Martha said to her sister, and when she saw the surprised look on the little girl's face, she said, "Will you please decide which boy is to carry your books home for you? The other may carry mine."

"Why I- I can carry all of them." Laura Mae blushed and laughed.

"I want to carry your books!" both boys said in the same instant.

"Then, you may carry mine, Eugene, and I will carry our lunch pails." Laura Mae smiled at her classmate. Phillip reached out reluctantly for Martha's Geometry and Ancient History books that meant so little to him, but if he carried them, he could at least see Laura Mae home, too.

It was just a mile and a half to the crossroads. From there the road to the west led to the woods where the Whitmer Mansion stood, nestled in merry Quaking Asps, Eugene lived there with his uncle, Everett Whitmer. The road to the east led to Charles Luden's dairy farm, where Phillip was being raised as an adopted son. Down a short, narrow lane from the crossroads was a farmhouse, owned by Eli Porter, Maura Mae and Martha's father.

The three childrenwalked together towards the crossroads, Laura Mae calling the boys' attentionto the Meadow Larks and Robins that had returned and to the fat toads and watersnakes as each sought his hiding place under the narrow bridges that had beenbuilt years before over the tiny streams that ran from numerous springs,throughout the valley. She was delighted by the Blue Bells and Buttercups,growing by the side of the road; how she loved the Spring Time! The boys weresullen and very indifferent to the beauties of nature around them. At thecrossroads, Laura Mae took all of the books that belonged to Martha and herselfand called a cheerful, "Good night!" before she started down the lane to herhome. The boys smiled at her and each returned cheerful, "Good night!" but eachsmile faded as the boys' eyes met. Each turned on his heel and walked,hurriedly in the direction of his home. It would not have been well for theboys to have had more words that night.