Читать книгу The Wyoming Heir - Naomi Rawlings - Страница 11
ОглавлениеChapter One
Valley Falls, New York
The simple cotton curtains on the classroom window fluttered with a whispered breeze, while autumn sunlight flooded through the opening in the thin fabric and bathed her in a burst of gaiety. But the warm rays upon Elizabeth Wells’s skin didn’t penetrate the coldness that stole up her spine, numbing her lungs and turning her fingers to ice.
Elizabeth tightened her grip around the envelope in her hand. She could open it. It wasn’t such a hard thing, really, to slip the letter opener inside and slit the top. She just needed a moment to brace herself.
The envelope weighed heavy against her skin, as though it were made of lead rather than paper. She ran her fingers instinctively along the smooth, precise edges. A quadrilateral with two pairs of congruent sides joined by four right angles. The mathematical side of her brain recognized the shape as a perfect rectangle. But the contour of the paper didn’t matter nearly so much as what was written inside.
She sighed and glanced down, her gaze resting on the name printed boldly across the envelope.
Miss Elizabeth Wells
Instructor of Mathematics
Hayes Academy for Girls
Forcing the air out of her lungs, she slit the envelope from the Albany Ladies’ Society and slipped out the paper.
Dear Miss Wells...
The jumble of words and phrases from the letter seared her mind. Regret to inform you...revoking our funding from your school...donate money to an institution that appreciates women maintaining their proper sphere in society. And then the clincher. The Albany Ladies’ Society not only wanted to stop any future funding but also requested the return of the money they had already donated for the school year.
And they called themselves ladies. Elizabeth slammed the letter onto her desk. Two other organizations had also asked that money previously donated—and spent—be returned. Then there were the six other letters explaining why future funding would cease but not asking for a return of monies.
This request galled more than most. If even women cared nothing about educating the younger generation of ladies, then who would? She’d spoken personally to the Albany Ladies’ Society three times. Her mother was a member, and still, at the slightest bit of public opposition to the school, the society had pulled their funding.
She stuffed the letter back into the envelope, yanked out her bottom desk drawer, and tossed it inside with the other letters—and the articles that had started the firestorm.
She shouldn’t even be receiving letters from donors and disgruntled citizens. Her brother, Jackson, was the head accountant for Hayes Academy for Girls, not her.
But then Jackson wasn’t responsible for the mess the academy was in.
She was.
She’d only been trying to help. With the recession that had hit the area following the economic panic in March, the school had lost students. A lot of students. Many parents couldn’t afford to send their daughters to an institution such as Hayes any longer. And without those tuition dollars, the school risked being seriously underfunded. So she’d written an editorial delineating the advantages of female education and girls’ academies and had sent it to the paper.
She’d hoped to convince a couple families to enroll their daughters or perhaps encourage donations to the school. Instead, she’d convinced Mr. Reginald Higsley, one of the reporters at the Albany Morning Times, to answer her.
On the front page.
She pulled out the newspaper, the headline staring back at her with thick, black letters.
Excessive Amount of Charity Money Wasted on Hayes Academy for Girls
Since the economic panic in March and the ensuing depression, countless workers remain unemployed, food lines span city blocks, four railroad companies have declared bankruptcy, three Albany banks have failed and myriad farmers have been forced to let their mortgaged lands revert back to lending institutions. But not six miles away, in the neighboring town of Valley Falls, community and charity money is being wasted on keeping open an unneeded school, Hayes Academy for Girls.
It has long been recognized that the overeducating of females creates a breed of women quick to throw off their societal obligations to marry and raise children. It is also well-known that educated women are more concerned with employment opportunities and their own selfish wishes rather than fulfilling their roles as women....
Elizabeth’s stomach twisted. No matter how many times her eyes darted over the words, the opening made her nearly retch. The article went on to compare the lower marriage rate of women with college educations to those with only grammar schooling. It examined the divorce rate, also higher among women with college educations. And then the reporter turned back to the topic of Hayes Academy’s funding, questioning why anyone would waste money teaching women to throw off their societal responsibilities while the poor of Albany were starving.
Elizabeth shoved back from her desk and stood. Charity money “wasted” on keeping an “unneeded” institution open? How could the reporter say such a thing, when the academy prepared young women to attend college and qualify for jobs that enabled them to support both themselves and their families? An educated woman could certainly make a fuller contribution to society than an uneducated one.
Yet since the article had appeared, the academy had lost half of its financial backers.
A burst of giggles wafted from outside, and Elizabeth rose and headed to the window. In the yard, groups of girls clustered about the pristine lawn and giant maple trees with their reddening leaves. They laughed and smiled and talked, flitting over the grass alone or in packs, their eyes bright, their spirits free, their futures optimistic.
She sank her head against the dark trim surrounding the window. “Jonah, why did you go and die on me?” The words swirled and dissipated in the empty room. As though she’d never spoken them. As though no one heard or cared what a mess Hayes Academy had become when its founder unexpectedly died three months earlier.
If Jonah Hayes were still alive, he would know how to get more donors. He would write an editorial on women’s education, and people would listen, enrolling their daughters at the academy. And in the interim, while the school struggled through the recession, he would likely donate the money Hayes Academy needed to continue operating.
But Jonah Hayes was gone, and his estate had been tied up for three months, waiting for the arrival of his grandson heir from out West. In her dreams, the grandson came to Valley Falls, filled Jonah’s position on the school board, convinced the other board members to keep Hayes Academy open, obliterated all opposition to the academy.
Of course, the heir had to arrive first.
And at this rate, the academy would be closed and the building sold before the man got here.
The students returned from lunch, a cascade of laughter and conversations fluttering in their wake. Elizabeth tried to smile, tried to straighten her shoulders and stand erect, tried to be grateful for the chance to teach her students—an opportunity that she might not have in another month.
Tried, but failed.
“Miss Wells?” The shining blue eyes of Samantha Hayes, Jonah’s granddaughter and one of the academy’s most intelligent pupils, met hers. “Meredith, MaryAnne and I are going to have a picnic along the stream that runs through Grandfather’s estate tonight. Do you want to join us?”
Elizabeth did smile then, though it doubtless looked small and halfhearted. How enjoyable to spend the evening chatting with the girls beside the clear stream, watching autumn swirl. If only she didn’t have to find a way out of the financial mess she’d created for Hayes Academy, which meant she had an appointment for tonight with the extra set of ledgers she kept for the school. “I’d best not. Thank you for asking.”
“Are you feeling all right?” Concern flitted across the young lady’s face. “You look pale.”
“I’m fine, but...well, now that I think of it, I could use your help on a certain project tomorrow.”
Samantha’s eyes danced, light from the window streaming in to bounce off her golden tresses. The girl was breathtaking. More than breathtaking, really. Elizabeth smiled. Little surprise her brother, Jackson, had started courting Samantha Hayes last spring. Half the men of Albany would be courting her if they had any sense about them.
“Is it more calculus?”
She did smile then, full and genuine. If only all her students were as exuberant over calculus as Samantha Hayes. “I’m afraid not. I’ve some ciphering to do tonight, and I’d like for you to check my sums.”
Samantha excelled at finding discrepancies in account books, whether they be the school’s or Jonah Hayes’s or Elizabeth’s personal ledgers. “Sounds fun. Should we meet at the picnic spot around lunchtime tomorrow, then?”
If Samantha knew the state of Hayes Academy’s accounts, she wouldn’t be nearly so happy. Oh, well, the younger girl would find out tomorrow.
“Yes, that will be fine, but you’d best take your seat now.” Elizabeth moved to the chalkboard and turned toward her students. Thirteen expectant faces stared back at her. Last year, she’d had twenty-three in her advanced algebra class.
“Today we’re going to learn about...”
But she couldn’t finish. How could she, with the school struggling to pay its bills and teachers’ salaries? Did the girls understand how much funding had been pulled from the academy within the past five days? That they might not be able to finish their final year of high school if more students didn’t enroll or if new funds couldn’t be raised?
And part of it was her fault. Oh, what had ever possessed her to write that editorial?
“Miss Wells, are you feeling okay?”
“Can we do something for you?”
“Did you forget what you were saying?”
The voices floated from different corners of the room. Elizabeth plastered a smile on her face. “Forgive me, class, but I’ve decided to change the lesson. We’ll review today.”
Her hand flew across the chalkboard as her mind formed the numbers, letters and symbols without needing to consult a textbook for sample equations. “I’m giving you a surprise quiz. Take the next half hour to finish these quadratic equations, and we’ll check them at the end of class.” She wiped her chalk-covered hands on a rag and turned.
A shadow moved near the open classroom door, and the darkened frame of a man filled the doorway.
A man. At Hayes Academy for Girls. What was he doing here?
“Can I help you?”
He entered and dipped his head. “Excuse me, ma’am.” A Western drawl lingered on the rusted voice.
“You’re here!” Samantha screeched.
Elizabeth nearly cringed at the unladylike sound, but Samantha took no notice as she sprang from her desk and rushed toward the gentleman. “I can’t believe you finally came. I missed you so much!” Samantha threw her arms around him for all the world to see.
Most unladylike, indeed. Did Jackson know about this other man? These were hardly fit actions for a girl who’d had an understanding with another man since last spring.
“Samantha...” Elizabeth drew up her shoulders and stepped closer. Their quiz forgotten, the other students watched the spectacle. “Sir, if the two of you would accompany me into the hallway. Students, please continue working.”
The girls returned to their work—or attempted to. Half still peeked up despite their bent heads.
Elizabeth moved to the door and held it for Samantha and the stranger. Neither moved. She anchored her hands to her hips and ground her teeth together. Of all the days. Didn’t the Good Lord know she hadn’t the patience for such an interruption this afternoon?
The man hugged Samantha, bracing her shoulders with a hand that held...a cowboy hat? Elizabeth blinked. Surely she didn’t have a cowboy in her classroom. Her eyes drifted down his long, lanky form. He wore a blue striped shirt, some type of leather vest, a brown belt and tan trousers complemented by a pair of what could only be called cowboy boots. And was that a red kerchief around his neck?
Plus he was covered in dust—whether from traveling or working with cows, she didn’t know—but she could well imagine the dust embedding itself on the front of Samantha’s—
A cowboy. From out West.
No. It couldn’t be.
But it was. She knew it then, as surely as she knew how to solve the quadratic equations on the board. Samantha clung to her brother.
The Hayes heir.
The man who held the power to either continue Hayes Academy or close the school for good.
“Samantha?” Elizabeth’s vocal cords grated against each other as she spoke, but she had to get her student and Mr. Hayes out of the classroom.
Finally, the girl pulled back from her brother and looked around the roomful of staring students. She flushed and moved into the hall, the dark skirt of her school uniform swishing about her ankles. The cowboy followed but only to crush his sister against him in another embrace.
Elizabeth wasn’t sure whether to roll her eyes or scream.
* * *
Luke Hayes hadn’t hugged his sister in three years, two months and thirteen days—not that he’d been counting—and he didn’t plan to stop hugging her because some fancy teacher squawked at him like a broody hen dead set on guarding her eggs.
“I’m sorry, Sam. I didn’t mean to get you in trouble,” he spoke against her head, still unable to unwind his arms from her.
“It’s all right,” came her muffled reply.
She’d grown taller and curvier since he’d seen her last. Looked grown-up, too. Her hair was done up in a puffy bun, not long and free as it had been in the Teton Valley. And she smelled different, no longer of sunshine and wildflowers but like fancy perfume. He tightened his hold. He should have come and yanked her out of this school sooner, regardless of what Pa had to say about it. “I missed you. Can’t rightly say how much.”
Inside the classroom, the teacher said something in that stern voice of hers. Then the distinctive clip of a lady’s boots on wood flooring grew louder, and the door closed with a thunk. “Samantha Hayes, what is the meaning of this?”
Sam pulled away from him, her eyes finding the floor. “I’m sorry, Miss Wells. I didn’t mean to make a scene. This is my brother, Luke, from Wyoming.”
The hair on the back of his neck prickled. Sam didn’t need to cower like a whipped dog because she had hugged him. He crossed his arms and met the teacher’s stare.
Hang it all, but she was a beautiful little thing, with deep hazel eyes and a wagonload of reddish-brown hair piled atop her head.
Her name should be Eve, for if ever God had created a perfect woman, she was it. Adam would have taken one look at that long, smooth face, milky skin and sparkling hazel eyes and been lost.
Good thing he wasn’t Adam.
“Sir?”
He swallowed and took a step back, while Sam snickered beside him. Why was he staring? Pretty or not, she was a city woman—just the type he avoided. Citified women didn’t fare well out West. They squealed when a bear meandered into the yard, left the door open on the chicken coop and complained about getting water from the hand pump—he knew. His twin brother had up and married one of the useless critters.
He scowled, but still couldn’t pull his eyes from the gentle curve of the teacher’s cheek or the soft pink of her lips. “Excuse me, ma’am, but I didn’t catch your name.”
“Miss Elizabeth Wells.”
Did she know a strand of hair had fallen from her updo and hung beside her cheek? Or that she had a big smear of white—most likely chalk—smack on the front of her plum-colored skirt?
“I’m Samantha’s mathematics instructor and private tutor.” She arched an eyebrow, a rather delicate and refined eyebrow.
He snuck a hand atop Sam’s shoulder. “Your letters haven’t said anything about having trouble with mathematics.”
Sam smiled up at him, that familiar toothy grin that had always wriggled straight into his heart. Except the grin didn’t look quite so toothy anymore, and her lips had a rather refined curve to them. “Oh, no, Luke, not trouble. Miss Wells instructs me in preliminary calculus after school. That way I can head straight into the calculus class when I attend college next fall.”
College next fall? He pulled his hand from her shoulder. “Sam, we’ve got a load of things to talk about, what with Grandpa’s passing an’ all. Go on and gather your belongings. You’re coming to the estate with me. I’ve already arranged it with the office.”
Her face lit up like sunlight sparkling off a cool mountain stream. “May I be excused from classes early, Miss Wells?”
The teacher’s gaze went frigid, those beautiful eyes likely to turn him into a pile of ice. “If the office has granted you leave, I’ve no authority to say otherwise.”
Luke bit back a cringe. He wouldn’t say the office had said yes. Exactly. He’d just handed a letter explaining the situation to the secretary, who would probably give it to the boss lady.
“Thank you, Miss Wells.” Samantha gave him a brief, tight hug before pulling away. “It’ll only take a moment to pack a bag.”
“No, Sam, not a bag.” He slung his Stetson atop his head. “All of your belongings. You won’t be returning.”
The teacher let out a little squeak, her hand flying up to clutch the cameo at her neck. “Surely you don’t mean to pull one of our brightest students from the academy. Why Samantha’s...”
He shut out the teacher’s prattling and focused on Sam. Her face had turned white as birch bark.
Confound it.
He should rip out his tongue and hang it up to dry. He hadn’t meant to tell Sam she was leaving like that, but he’d spent most of his trip out East pondering things. He’d promised not to tell Sam about the consumption, but he’d never promised not to take her out of her fancy school. If he could get Sam to make a clean break from this place, convincing her to come home with him should be easy as coaxing a thirsty horse to the drinking trough. She could help him sort through Grandpa’s things for the next few weeks, and then she’d be off to Wyoming before she had a chance to think about missing her school.
He stepped forward and rubbed Sam’s back. “Now don’t go bawling on me, Sam. It’s just that—”
“How could you take me from here?” Her voice quivered.
How could he?
How could he not? Grandpa was gone now—there was no kith or kin anywhere in the whole of the state of New York to tie her here. Surely she didn’t expect to be left here without anyone to look after her. She must hanker to see Ma and Pa and the ranch. To fall asleep to the sound of coyotes yipping and awake to the scent of thin mountain air. To see Ma before she died.
“Samantha.” The teacher laid a slender hand on Sam’s arm. “Why don’t you head to your room and freshen up? I’ve a matter to discuss with your brother.” Her eyes shot him that ice-coated look again. “Privately.”
Sam fled toward the staircase, muffling her sobs in her hand. And something hollow opened inside his chest, filling him with a familiar ache.
“Mr. Hayes, I do not appreciate having my class interrupted or one of my students upset.”
He turned back toward the teacher. Though the woman only reached his shoulder, she acted like she commanded an army. A firm line spread across those full lips, a hint of fire burned beneath her cool eyes, and her face looked as blank as a riverboat gambler’s.
He’d gone and raised her hackles, all right. She probably had a hankering to sit him in the corner or send him to the office or apply some other schoolboy-type punishment.
He tipped his hat. “I’m sorry. I’d no intention of disrupting anything, miss—” or of sending Sam away in tears “—but I haven’t seen my sister for a fair piece, and I wasn’t keen on waiting any longer.”
Not that he was about to plop down and explain the bad blood between Pa and Grandpa to the woman.
“I understand that, sir, and I appreciate your apology.”
“If you’ll excuse me, then.” He dipped his head and shifted toward the stairs. “I best find her and get on to the estate.”
“Mr. Hayes.” The teacher stepped in front of him, a bold move for someone so tiny. “You can’t take Samantha from here.”
He crossed his arms. “My sister’s not rightly your concern.”
“Yes, she is. You made her my concern when you sent her here.”
“Now listen. I never sent her here and neither did Pa. This school thing was all Grandpa’s idea. Pa just wanted to get Sam away from the Teton Valley while we dealt with a few troubles. We figured she’d come live with Grandpa and go to the local high school hereabouts. No one ever mentioned Sam coming to this fancy school until she was already here.”
But that bit of information seemed to have no effect on the teacher. Her eyebrows didn’t arch, her jaw didn’t drop and her eyes didn’t flash with questions. Instead, she pointed her finger and shoved it in his chest. Hard.
“Be that as it may, she has been a student here for over three years without your interference, and she has done exceptionally well. I’m sure you want the best for your sister’s future, and she thrives in this environment. She’ll make an excellent student at Maple Ridge College a year from now.”
College. There it was again. That lousy word that threatened to keep Sam out East for good rather than home where she belonged. “Look, I appreciate what you’re doing here, trying to educate women and all. And if you want to teach fancy mathematics to the girls in your classroom, you go right ahead.”
“It’s advanced algebra.”
“Call it whatever you want. But with no more family in the area, there’s nothing to keep Sam here. My sister will finish her schooling in Wyoming and won’t be attending college next fall. She’s coming home with me as soon as I straighten Grandpa’s affairs.”
The teacher raised her chin, her small nose jutting arrogantly in the air. “This conversation is becoming ridiculous.”
“I agree.”
“I’m sure if we schedule an appointment to discuss the situation with your sister and the headmistress, we could reach a more satisfying conclusion for all affected.”
Oh, he could think of a satisfying conclusion, and it involved him and Sam hightailing it out of this confounded school, never to return. “I said my sister won’t be returning, and I meant it. She’s got obligations at home.”
“Mr. Hayes, you are making a grave and regrettable mis— Is that a gun?” Her voice squeaked, all semblance of propriety fleeing while she stared at the Colt .45 holstered on his right hip.
Somewhere down the hall a door closed, and the clip of shoes on flooring resonated against the walls. He shifted his weight to his left leg and cocked his right hip, purposely exaggerating the firearm’s presence. Not that he wanted to scare her, but she was a sight to behold with her perfect little feathers all in a ruffle. “We use them where I come from.”
Unfortunately, she didn’t stay flustered quite long enough. She clamped her hands to her hips and glared. “I’d thank you to remove it from the premises at once. We’ve no need for guns at Hayes Academy. Why, the entire class probably saw it.”
Luke crossed his arms. “I seem to recall something in the U.S. Constitution about citizens bearing arms.”
“Yes, well, certainly not in a school.”
“Now look here—”
“Mr. Luke Hayes, I presume.”
Luke flicked his eyes toward the tall woman coming down the hall. She moved the way a shopkeeper did when suspecting someone of pocketing a gold watch—quickly and full of purpose.
The woman stopped and extended a wrinkled hand. “What a pleasure to meet you. I’m Josephine Bowen, headmistress here at Hayes Academy.”
“Luke Hayes.” He gave the hand a hearty shake.
“I trust there’s no problem?” The headmistress slid a stern gaze toward Miss Wells.
He’d seen similar looks on teachers’ faces plenty a time in his youth. It always preceded him being dragged to the front of the schoolroom for a switching.
But Miss Wells didn’t so much as flinch under the heated stare. “Mr. Hayes and I were discussing his sister’s schooling. Now if you’ll both excuse me, I should return to my students.”
“Yes, Miss Wells.” The headmistress nodded. “Do return to your class, please, and thank you for taking time to make Mr. Hayes feel welcome.”
He rubbed his jaw. Hopefully the rest of Valley Falls didn’t plan to “welcome” him the way the fiery little teacher had.
Miss Wells gave a tight smile as she opened the classroom door, then disappeared inside.
“Mr. Hayes, we’re simply delighted to have you.” The headmistress’s overly bright voice echoed through the hallway, but she wasn’t lecturing him on pulling Sam out of school. Then again, she probably hadn’t read his letter yet, or she’d be bawling like a cow in labor.
“Hayes Academy has benefited greatly from your grandfather’s generosity, and we look forward to doing the same with you,” she continued.
Seeing how he’d never met his paternal grandfather, he hadn’t the foggiest notion what Grandpa’s generosity entailed. “I haven’t talked to Grandpa’s lawyer yet. In what ways, exactly, has my grandfather aided you?”
Miss Bowen beamed up at him. “Where, sir, do you think the name Hayes Academy comes from?”
He’d figured as much.
“Twenty years ago Jonah Hayes donated the land that this school sits on and a good portion of the funds to build it.” The headmistress clasped his hand. “Three years ago we used another donation to replace the windows on the second floor and renovate the grounds. Surely you noticed the horticulture as you came in? But right now, we’re simply hoping to—”
“I’m sorry, but I...” Won’t be making any donations. The words turned to dust in his mouth. The headmistress’s severe face shone with delight, and he’d already upset enough womenfolk since walking into this school. Two an hour ought to be his limit. “Settling Grandpa’s estate is a mite complicated. I don’t know how much I can promise.”
Her shoulders sagged—if that were possible for a woman who exuded perfect posture. “Of course, I understand it will take time to fully grasp the reins of your grandfather’s financial concerns. But I do hope you’ll bear in mind that, while your grandfather left a wonderful legacy, in order for it to be enjoyed by future generations, we must all endeavor to keep the legacy alive. Perhaps the board members call fill you in on some of your grandfather’s other contributions when you meet them.”
“Board members?” This whole school business was growing a bit too involved. He took a step backward and glanced toward the stairway. The hot, stale air inside the building clung to his skin, and the hallway’s white walls and dim lights were a mite too suffocating. He needed to get outside, breathe some fresh air, feel the sun on his face. What was keeping Sam?
“The school board meets once a month.” Miss Bowen’s grip tightened on his arm, her nails digging in a tad too forcefully. “Of course you’ll fill your grandfather’s seat. What a shame you missed last night’s meeting, though. We truly needed someone present to keep the needs of Hayes at the forefront. Otherwise I’m afraid our precious institution gets eclipsed by the needs of the nearby college and boys’ school. Unfortunately the most I can do now is provide you with a copy of the minutes.”
“Uh, sure,” he mumbled, then stuck a finger in his collar and pulled, but that didn’t stop the tight feeling in his throat.
“But I will be able to introduce you to the board at the banquet tomorrow night. How marvelous that you’ve arrived in time to attend!”
“Banquet?” he croaked.
“Yes, the annual banquet for Maple Ridge College and its two preparatory schools, Hayes Academy for Girls and Connor Academy for Boys. All are located here in Valley Falls, but as most of the board members are Albany businessmen, the banquet is held in Albany. The Kenmore Hotel. Seven o’clock.”
Seven o’clock. Albany. Tomorrow night. These fancy eastern women wanted money, his gun off, his sister in school, his presence at some uppity banquet and him seated on a stuffy school board. And he’d only been off the train an hour.
What demands would they come up with tomorrow? And how was he ever going to survive a month?
