Summary: What girl wouldn’t be distracted by Adam Cartwright’s presence in church?  Shy, reserved Prudence Dane is no exception.  Enter little Bobby, a baby frog, and…well, the devil makes her do it.

Rated: K  1250 words

Prudence and the Frog

By JoaniePaiute

Prudence Dane gazed wistfully after seventeen-year-old Adam Cartwright.  She wasn’t the only one.  An entire cluster of young ladies was gathered near her, their eyes following him like stray puppies after a little boy.  However, Prudence was the only one standing with her parents instead of friends.  She knew the other girls didn’t exactly dislike her, but she also knew they considered her aloof.

The church bell rang, calling them inside.  With a collective sigh, the other girls joined their own parents and swept in.  A few waited for beaus to join them, but of course a young man was expected to come to a young lady, not the other way around—and then only with her parents’ approval.

With a barely audible sigh, Prudence followed Mother and Father into the church.  Father stepped back to usher them into the pew.  As luck would have it, he led them into the one directly behind the Cartwrights.  She knew she wouldn’t be able to concentrate on the sermon—not a good thing, since Father would undoubtedly quiz her on it later.

Usually she sat between Father and Mother.  For some reason, Mother let Prudence go first today, so she was on the end of the pew…directly behind young Adam.  His black hair gleamed like wet paint, right in her line of vision, blocking her view of the pulpit.  She sighed again, more loudly this time, and earned herself a sharp glance from Mother.

They stood to sing the opening hymn, “Precious Lord, Take My Hand.”  To her horror, Prudence realized she was mentally replacing the words “precious Lord” with “Adam dear.”  Such sacrilege!

Not to mention foolishness.  Adam Cartwright, quite simply, had never noticed her.  Oh, he was polite, always tipping his hat to her on the street, but he was that way to everyone.  The minister’s wife.  The Widow Hawkins.  The mercantile proprietor, who wasn’t even female.

She wished she were sitting in front of him, not behind.  There, he not only wouldn’t distract her from the sermon, but she could be enjoying his sweet baritone voice.

On second thought, that would probably be worsening her agony.

The hymn ended, and the congregation took their seats.  The announcements dragged on, at last giving way to the reading of Holy Scripture.  Prudence tried to concentrate.  Really, she did.  But she kept forming descriptions of Adam’s hair in her mind:  black as leather gleaming in the firelight, black as a tar pit under a full moon (even though she’d never seen a tar pit), black as the hat she knew was lying in his lap.

After the scripture reading, they bowed their heads for prayer.  It was a long prayer.  It was always a long prayer.  Today, it was interminable.

A tap on her shoulder was a welcome distraction.  With a quick glance at Mother, whose eyes were closed reverently, she dared a look over her shoulder.  Little Bobby Martin, six years old, was leaning forward, grinning mischievously.  She liked Bobby; she liked all children, but he was special.  Full of what her parents would call wickedness—but what she sensed was just irrepressible little-boyness.

He reached over the pew and opened his hand so she could see the tiny frog he held there.  It was just a baby, no more than an inch long.  Bobby knew that Prudence wasn’t afraid of frogs, worms, or even garter snakes.  She had admired his “pets” many times.  Now, with a cautious glance toward Mother, whose eyes were still closed in prayer, Prudence held her hand, palm up, toward Bobby.  Quick as a flash, he dropped Froggy into her hand.

Good heavens, she thought.  First the hymn, now this.  What had gotten into her this morning?

Well, as long as she kept her hand closed—with the fingers slightly parted, of course, so Froggy could breathe—no one would notice.  She hoped.  Shutting her eyes tightly, she said her first actual prayer of the morning.

But although her prayer was fervent, the minister’s prayer was longer.  Long enough for her to shift restlessly, causing Mother to open one eye and turn it sternly in her direction.  She sat still again, and the eye closed once more.

Desperately, she looked around for a diversion, and found it in the nape of Adam’s neck as his head was bowed in prayer.  Oh, Lord, she thought, completely absorbed by the smooth skin above his collar, the velvety-looking hairs that lay there…and suddenly the wickedness that had threatened all morning to overtake her did so.  Later, she would think, The devil surely possessed me.  In fact, that would be her defense to Father.  The devil…

Her hand reached out of its own accord and dropped Froggy down the back of Adam’s shirt.

Horrified, she watched as he stiffened.  Wiggled.  Squirmed.  Bent forward, reached a hand around to his back, accidentally elbowing his father, who sat beside him.  Ben Cartwright gave his son a fierce scowl that made Prudence shiver.  Undeterred, Adam gave a little yelp and stood up.  Several people opened their eyes and looked his way.

As he twisted around, trying to reach the creepy-crawly thing that was back there, she saw panic in his eyes.  A mixture of remorse, pity, and a little panic of her own overtook her, and she stood as well, reaching toward Adam.  She felt her mother’s hand on her arm, and for the first time in her life, she shook her off.

Truly, Father, she would say later, the devil made me do it.

Leaning over the pew, she snatched Adam’s shirt and yanked it out of his trousers.  She shook the shirt hem so hard the cloth gave an audible snap.  Froggy tumbled to the pew seat, and she reached down and scooped him up.  Somehow, she had the presence of mind to stop herself from turning and handing him back to Bobby.  No sense in getting the boy in trouble, too.

The minister had stopped praying.  Silence filled the church, so heavy it pressed on her heart and made it stop in midbeat.  Openmouthed, Adam stared at her.

Everyone was staring at her.  A deep flush started in her neck and traveled up to the roots of her hair.

A series of emotions crossed Adam’s face: shock, disbelief, anger, and finally—no, that was impossible— amusement.  And interest.  Dear Lord in heaven.  Interest?  No.  Yes.  No.

She collapsed as much as sat.

With a slow, lopsided smile, he turned back toward the front and sat as well.  She noticed that he glanced down at his pew first—probably to see if she had deposited a mouse or a snake there.

Truly, Father, she was saying later that day, when they were interrupted by a knock at the door.  Father gave her a look that clearly said, We will finish this later, and went to answer it.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Dane,” came Adam Cartwright’s voice.  “I wonder if I might have the honor of calling on your daughter.”

Prudence smiled.  Lord bless you, little Bobby, she thought.  Whatever the consequences, it had been worth it.