Читать книгу The Rancher Inherits A Family - Cheryl St.John - Страница 15

Chapter Four

That evening she was putting things away in her room when there was a tentative knock at the door.

“Come in.”

Tate entered and looked around. “Seth asked me to fetch you.”

“Thank you. I’ll be down in a few minutes.”

She found Seth alone, propped in a sitting position on the narrow bed on the porch. As far as the eye could see the darkening sky to the west was streaked with vivid tones of orange and purple. Already a few stars blinked in the broad expanse.

“I thought we should talk some about how the days are going to work.”

She seated herself on the twig chair. “All right.”

“For now, Dewey will give you and the boys a ride to school in the mornings. The more efficient way to travel will be if you learn to ride and take a couple of horses. There’s a corral and water troughs behind the livery and saddle shop. If there was a storm, Colton there would see to the stock. From there it’s just a walk around the corner to the schoolhouse.”

Horse riding hadn’t been in her plan when she’d traveled here, but she understood the practicality. “I see.”

“And then there’s safety.”

At his words, she looked straight at him.

“We’ll start lessons tomorrow.”

“Lessons?” she asked.

“Shooting, loading. I have a few revolvers, and you’ll be able to find one you can handle well enough.”

Alarmed, she balked at the plan. “Who might I have to shoot?”

“You may never have to shoot at all, but you need to know how.” He paused and she continued to question him with her stare. “A snake, a bandit, a wolf.”

The woman was obviously reluctant about the prospect of these lessons, but Seth felt as accountable for her as he did the boys. She’d be staying under his roof, on his land, and he had to look out for her.

“I’m just going to say this straight,” he continued. “Cowboy Creek is a peaceable town, with lawmen and regulations, but it’s a cow town and it’s brimming with men. Lots of men, young and old, nearly all of them looking for a woman. The school is located near prestigious homes and close to businesses, so it’s not secluded whatsoever, but sometimes things happen. Ruffians have been known to ride into town. You’re there to teach the children, and they’re in your care each day. Always be aware of your surroundings. Keep a gun in a safe place, just in case it’s needed.”

“Does the current teacher have a gun?”

“I can’t tell you for sure, but if she was my wife, I’d be sure she had one.”

Her focus skittered away and her face seemed a trifle paler than it had moments ago. She swallowed and rubbed her palms on her skirt. She was a city girl, raised in a comfortable home, educated and perhaps protected. He felt bad about delivering hard facts, but someone had to. She needed to be aware.

“Miss Brewster...” he began.

Her gaze flitted to his again.

He took a match and striker from the small stand beside his cot and held them out to her. “Will you light a couple of the lanterns, please?”

She did as he asked, her skirt pooling on the porch floor as she kneeled. Dust flamed inside the glass chimney and burned off quickly.

“You know more about me than I know about you, partly thanks to my mother. No one ever has to wonder what she’s thinking.” He shrugged. “But I’m curious. What was your life like in Ohio during the war?”

“Probably very different than the stories I’ve heard about lower states,” she answered. “The men, young and old—except the very young boys—were off fighting. My father was a banker. His family had come to Ohio from New York when he was a boy. He took a job working for the governor just as the war started, and he spent a lot of time in Washington. Daisy married about that time. Her husband was wounded at Arkansas Post and later recovered and went back to his regiment. She wrote him daily, but rarely had a letter in return. He returned for a day or two now and then between assignments. My mother became sickly, so my sister and I cared for her with domestic help.”

She adjusted the wicks on both lamps, stood and took a seat again. “We followed the news and corresponded with neighbors and schoolmates who were off fighting. When news came of men killed, the war seemed so far away. Daisy and I attended church and oyster suppers and gatherings and received callers. We made cakes for special occasions. We had ladies over and sewed quilts for sons and husbands, rolled bandages for the field hospitals, and all the while we prayed for the fighting to end.”

The sky had darkened, and now the golden light from the lanterns glowed on her delicate features. “I’m sure my telling seems idyllic to someone like you, who was in the thick of things, getting shot and all.”

“Thinking of scenes like that kept a lot of us going,” he answered. “Knowing there was gentility to return to. Families, church suppers and cakes. Quilts.”

His deep tone and heartfelt words betrayed his emotions, so he cleared his throat. “Did you write to someone special?”

“I was merely fourteen when the struggle over slavery began. My father insisted Daisy and I continue our studies. I hadn’t time to grow into thinking about boys before they were all gone.”

“But you’d become a teacher.”

“Yes. And I got my father’s affinity for numbers. I’d make someone a good accountant in a pinch, but I prefer working with children. I’ll always find employment.”

She was obviously smart and ambitious, and took pride in being able to support herself. “That’s admirable.”

“Thank you.”

The breeze picked up her citrusy scent and carried it in his direction.

“What’s that scent you wear?”

She looked at him with surprise. “Orange-flower and almond-oil toilet water. My father always gave it to me at Christmas.”

“It suits you.”

Marigold had lived a life very different from his, from that of his family. It had taken courage and a desire for change to come this far alone. Quite a few brides had arrived in Cowboy Creek, and he’d heard some of their stories, but he’d never stopped to consider what the journey had meant for them. Until now.

“I don’t want you to be afraid living here. I only want to make sure you’re able to protect yourself and the children in your care.”

“Truly, I never considered I might have to protect them.”

“You will likely never have to. But you’ll be prepared regardless.”

She nodded. “Yes. Thank you.”

“Thank you. For looking after the boys.”

“It’s my pleasure.”

“You’re likely exhausted.”

“I am.”

“Good night then. Sleep well.”

“And you.” On a delicate current of orange and almond, she departed.

Dozens of cowboys and business owners were going to appreciate Miss Brewster’s delicate beauty and intelligence. The last teacher hadn’t lasted six months before she was married. He suspected this schoolmarm would be temporary as well. Even Russ had shown covert interest when he’d thought no one was looking. And why not? Marigold Brewster was the prettiest thing Seth had ever seen.

* * *

Little John cried the next morning when Marigold and the boys prepared to leave with Dewey. She kneeled and gave him a gentle hug. “You’re going to be just fine with Mrs. Halloway. She loves little boys. I’ll bet she’ll even read you a story.”

Evelyn rubbed his back and smoothed his hair. “I have just the book, too.”

Marigold had assured him he could come to school with them occasionally after her adjustment period had ended, but he didn’t take kindly to his brothers going without him. She cupped his chin and wiped his tears, then joined Dewey on the wagon seat and didn’t look back. Evelyn was the best person to care for Little John while his brothers were in school. She had been happy at the thought of having him with her during the day. It had, in fact, been her idea.

Dewey pointed out hawks and ground squirrels to Tate and Harper, and then answered a dozen questions on the drive to town. As they made their way to Lincoln Boulevard, the streets were already brimming with wagons; shopkeepers swept their stoops and opened their shutters. Dewey rolled the wagon right up along the curb before the single-story wood-frame building with a small vented bell tower, and helped Marigold to the ground. The boys grabbed their tin dinner pails and jumped down. As she’d noticed on their way past yesterday, the schoolhouse was larger than she’d anticipated.

“Looks like Mizz Aldridge is just gettin’ here,” Dewey said. “I’ll be off now.”

She thanked him and he drove the wagon away.

A dark-haired woman only a few years older than herself crossed the lawn and greeted Marigold. “Miss Brewster?”

“Miss Aldridge?”

“It was Libby Aldridge before I was married. I’m Libby Thompson now. I’m so glad you’re here.” The swell of Libby’s belly indicated the arrival of a child in the next few months.

“I’m glad to finally be here. The trip was...eventful.”

“Oh, my goodness, yes! Thank God you weren’t injured in the train wreck! We were aghast when we heard the news.”

“Some bumps and bruises, but I’m fortunate to have walked away. Mr. Halloway is the one with the most injuries.”

“The tale of him being injured while rescuing you has spread all around town. The ladies are finding it quite romantic.”

“Oh, no. No,” Marigold declared. “It’s not like that at all.”

“Let’s take our things inside. I suppose you have more supplies you’ll be bringing?”

“Yes, another day. I wanted to meet you and the children and become oriented this week.” She gestured to the two boys flanking her sides. “This is Tate Radner. And this is Harper. Gentlemen, say hello to Mrs. Thompson.”

After they exchanged greetings, Libby led them into a tiny entryway below the bell tower and then further inside, where the smell of new wood, paper and chalk prevailed. To the right was a large empty classroom and to the left a smaller one with rows of double desks. “As you can see the building is only a year old. The council thought of everything. There’s an entire half of the building to accommodate growth and eventually another teacher. Wood is delivered for the stove. There’s a shared well on the next block north, and a lad brings water to us each morning.”

“This is so much larger than I expected.”

“The town founders firmly believe in education, and they built the school with expansion and exceptional learning in mind. Right now we use that room for activities and exercise when the weather is poor. We hold our school programs in there as well.”

She pointed to a wooden chest along the side wall. “The children place their dinners in the pine box when they arrive. I assign two students to pass them out at noon. Leah Gardner will be here soon. She makes a few lunches every morning for the children who don’t have much to bring. And her own isn’t even old enough for school yet.”

“I’ve already heard a lot about her.” Marigold instructed Tate and Harper to stow their tin pails in the chest. “Are there seats available for these two new students?”

“Yes, of course. Right now I have the children arranged according to grade levels, and the open seats are in the rear. We will do a bit of rearranging today, and then you may want to reassign seats once you’ve done an assessment and know where to place them.”

Libby showed her the supplies provided by the school board—books, slates, chalk, paper and pencils. There were maps and a globe and even a pianoforte under an Indian blanket in the corner. “I don’t play, but occasionally Hannah Johnson comes to give a music lesson. Do you play?’

“I’m adequate, yes.”

“That’s excellent news. Hannah has a lot to do already, what with her dress shop and a little one, but she’s been faithful to devote a morning to us every week. My biggest challenge has been the German children. August Mason has learned some basics, and he is quite helpful in our communication, but I’m afraid the students are sorely behind. I know how important it is for their parents to have their children in school, but truthfully, I don’t know how much they’re actually getting out of the lessons. I do my best.”