“What?”

  “I had a real desire to have some of those delicious hard biscuits and some strawberry preserves. Now, I wonder, do you know where I might find any of that?”

  Rachel bit her lower lip and nodded. “Yes, sir!”

  “Well, that’s a good thing then!” he said with a big a grin.

  Rachel jumped off his lap and fetched a plate. “I don’t think so,” he said, putting out a hand to stop her, “Why don’t you just bring the rolls and a couple of knives?” he reached over and grabbed one of the jars. He popped the seal and took a deep whiff. “Oh, MY!” he said, a huge grin splitting his face, “now that is what I call good eating. Come over here and smell this!”

  “I smelled it, Poppa, when Miss…” she was suddenly unsure of her ground again. She smiled and came back to him, obediently sniffing the content of the jar. “That does smell good,” she said shyly.

  “Go on and get something to put this on, or I’ll eat it straight from the jar.” He waved his hands to get her to move. He stood and went to the sink to run some water over his hands. The water came out of the pump as cold as ice, but the bracing nature of it helped him steady himself.

  He focused his thoughts on his daughter, eating preserves on biscuits and eventually straight from the jar. He promised to put the preserves up in the cellar come morning and helped her with the dishes, making a game of it until she was laughing, actually laughing, and he praised God that he’d been given another chance.

  After he sent her to bed, he walked out onto the porch. He brought out his pipe, sat on the step and looked out into the darkness, hanging his head.

  The pipe, unlit, hung limply from his fingers, his body felt like it was falling in on itself. You lied to your child. You never heard that woman sing in your life.

  He cursed Rachel’s mother and tried not to hate her. It wouldn’t help, and it would only eat away at him, but the hate was deep, and on nights like this, when his girl cried out for her mother, it got further entrenched. She didn’t remember her, he realized. She knew her better from stories than from life. Maybe he’d embellished a little bit, so she would feel like she’d had something worthwhile once upon a time, but he wondered just how much of the stories she believed anymore.

  I think that’s why she gets so sad. She sees those other girls at school with their mothers and feels left out. Maybe deep down she knows all the things I never have the courage to say. God only knows what the other kids say to her.

  He shook his head and fumbled at his tobacco pouch, filling the pipe without thinking about it, too lost in his own thoughts to notice what his hands were doing.

  So, her teacher – a woman in case you missed that fact – comes out here and teaches her how to put up preserves and acts like a mother to her and what do you do to thank her? You all but picked her up and threw her out of your house and in front of Rachel! Absolutely brilliant.

  He’d been depending on Rachel too much, he could see that. He’d hired men to help on the ranch, strong men with wide backs for plowing and herding the cattle, but he’d left his little girl to cook and clean. He should have hired a housekeeper, but had been loath to bring a stranger into his home. He’d worried about Rachel feeling displaced, it had been just the two of them for so long. But the work had been too hard, too heavy for a child to handle. And he quite honestly didn’t know how to teach her the things she ought to know. The preserves were only the beginning. He ought to have put in a garden. Taught her to grow things, to put up vegetables for the winter instead of buying them from the store in town.

  He lit the pipe and let the smoke waft around him, resting on his tongue and then wreathing his face in a dense, blue cloud that dissipated and vanished as if it had never been. He watched the darkness of the night deepen, and the stars begin their vigil. When the moon arrived, at last, he tamped out the pipe and set it on the window sill.

  He took a taper from the dying embers of the fire in the stove and lit a lantern. He climbed the steps to the second floor and to his room, but he could go no further than the first door. Rachel’s door.

  He opened it and found her fast asleep, curled up on her side. He stole through the shadows around the moonlight slipping through her window and kissed her cheek, tugging the blanket up to cover her shoulders, worried that she might catch a chill. The nights were still cold. She shifted and moaned a little but didn’t wake.

  “Tomorrow, I’ll go and get her back for you,” he whispered as he stroked the hair back from her forehead. “Poppa will make it right again.” He stood and turned to go.

  “Good night Rachel,” he said, closing the door gently behind him. He blew out the lantern and walked to his room in the darkness.

  Chapter 10

  Well, what in the name of Wordsworth was wrong with everybody? Linda strolled through the street, cataloging looks. She decided that they came down on two sides: about half of the people smiled and looked at her as though they shared a secret with her… a slightly salacious secret at that, and the others simply – stared.

  Good gracious! Just because I started working with the newspaper? How much grief can such a position cause? It was true that many of the women and no few of the men treated her differently when she went off to Chicago to continue her education and came back qualified to teach. That was enough of an oddity to create a gap between her and those friends she’d grown up with, but then she was safely ensconced with the children, and that was… maternal. School teaching, at least, was a time-honored profession.

  It had taken a year, but she was able to win back their graces and now, this? Well, it would not do, for starters. She was not about to…

  “Good morning Miss Addams!” Mr. Morgan called, waving her over. She sighed and steeled herself. The paper had come out again, and Mr. Morgan was looking for another tutoring in world events or another vocabulary lesson. Honestly!

  “Good morning, Mr. Morgan,” she said brightly, summoning a smile, albeit a tired one.

  “Good morning!” He handed her an apple, looking at her expectantly.

  “What is this for?” She turned the piece of fruit in her hands, mystified. It was a rather nice one, even if a little withered, being from last year’s crop. From his own personal store, she suspected. It had been whispered about that Mr. Morgan kept the best of the produce for himself as it came into the store. After having seen those strawberries, she had been inclined to believe it.

  “Just because,” he said with a smile. “Consider it a thank you for being such a good… I mean… an exemplary friend.” His cheeks were visibly aching with the need to grin,

  “Well… thank you, Mr. Morgan.” She said. After a moment she tried again, “Was there something you wanted to discuss with me about the paper today?”

  “No.” He shook his head beaming from ear to ear.

  “Oh.” Linda was nonplussed. “I see, well, thank you for the apple then.” She drew her skirts around her and turned to go.

  “An apple for the teacher!” he said, calling after her. When she looked back, he was pointing his finger up as if making a profound oration.

  “Yes, apparently.”

  “Are you heading to the school?” he asked. “or are you heading… further afield?” his eyebrows rose, and he waited for her reply with enough enthusiasm that made her somewhat uncomfortable.

  “Yes, I need to finish closing up for summer, I’ve been putting it off too long. Mr. Morgan, just exactly what is wrong with the town today?”

  “Wrong?” he said, spreading his hands, “Why should anything be wrong? It’s spring! Spring is in the air! In spring a young man’s fancy… ah… falls by the roadside…”

  “Mr. Morgan.” Linda shook her head and closed her eyes. “I have no idea what you’re on about but… will you excuse me? I really must get to my books.”

  “Books, she says,” Morgan grinned. “Books! Go, get your books and say hello from me!”

  “I… will.” She said. Nothing made sense, but Mr. Morgan had never been…well, downright disturbing in his actions like this. Linda half walked, and half ran tucking the apple in her pocket as she went.

  “LINDA JOY ADDAMS!”

  Oh please, dear God in heaven, I will volunteer for everything at church I can possibly do if you can please work a miracle and that won’t be Mary Lynn coming at me.

  “Why Linda Addams! I do declare, I leave you alone for a moment and here you are setting the entire town on its edge!”

  “Hello, Mary Lynn,” Linda said, plastering a smile on her face, as she paused to wait for the other woman to catch up. For a moment she considered continuing walking, but she’d already said hello, so claiming that she hadn’t heard her wasn’t going to get her out of this one.

  Ok, heavenly father, you had your chance, I could have sat on every knitting, decorating and planning committee the church has, but you didn’t keep your end of the bargain. That’s it, I’m done. Or not. Just…would it be too much to grant a favor now and again?

  “Hello indeed!” Mary Lynn said, catching herself on Linda’s arm, clasping her as if she were a long-lost friend, when in reality she was having trouble breathing from dashing to catch up. Linda suspected Mary Lynn had her corset too tight again. “I swear, you ran off to that college, and they warped your mind and filled it so full of information you don’t have any room left for common sense.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Oh, no dear,” Mary Lynn squeezed Linda’s arm. “I don’t mean it’s your fault, not at all. No, I just mean that the world is a great big place and we aren’t meant to understand it all, even a part of it! Most of the time, you just have to accept it as it comes.”

  “I am sure I don’t know what you are talking about.”

  “Well, that’s a start anyway. You know, there are very few men who like a smart girl, you’re limiting your options. It’s no wonder that you have little choice left for a beau.”

  “I beg your pardon?” Linda was getting angry now. She stomped her foot in frustration. “What are you on about?”

  “Well, I am sure that taking that… job did not, in any way improve your prospects!” Mary Lynn said archly, “but still, that is no reason to settle!” She turned on a heel and flounced off, leaving Linda standing in the middle of the street with her mouth open, with no idea at all what they’d just been talking about.

  Linda strode to the schoolhouse, letting her anger carry her there. She slammed the door shut behind her, blocking out the light and noise and insanity. Inside the schoolhouse, it was dim and cool. The shades were still drawn and with the windows shut, the noise from outside didn’t filter into the room quite so much. She took a deep breath, then another, moving through the room, touching each desk and ending at her own.

  This was the place that had always made her happiest. Why then, did she feel so disquieted as she stood there? It took her a minute to realize she was staring at the desk of Rachel Calvert.

  I can’t escape it. No matter where I go, I’m going to be worried about that child. And that…brute of a father.

  She sank down into her chair behind the desk and sat with her elbows on the blotter, her head in her hands. She had no idea what she was going to do. Ignoring the family felt somehow wrong. They were obviously doing alright in many areas, but she had borne witness to the struggled that Rachel faced in managing the household, and her father…

  Well he was another thing altogether, wasn’t he?

  She shook her head, took up a quill, trimmed it, and reached for a piece of paper. She had a column to write and had chosen to come to the schoolhouse early just so she could work on it where things were quiet. At home, it was impossible to concentrate. What with Sarah’s incessant nattering, and Amanda traipsing in and out doing everything she could to become a man, up to and including the wearing of boots and spurs. That had lasted all of ten minutes before their father had put a stop to it, saying no child of his, male or female, was using spurs on any of their horses, ever.

  But after running the gauntlet right through the center of town, Linda had to wonder if it had indeed been smarter to come to the schoolhouse. She smoothed the paper, enjoying the silken feel of it beneath her fingers, sinking into the calm that a fresh, crisp sheet of foolscap brought to her. Paper was still something of a luxury, although it was getting easier to come by. It still had to be special ordered, so she used it sparingly. Which also meant she didn’t have a lot of room to be making mistakes.

  She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, trying to center her thoughts. Dipping the quill, she began writing.

  I do not feel obliged to believe that the same God who has endowed us with sense, reason, and intellect has intended us to forgo their use.

  -Galileo Galilei

  She heard the hooves heading past, someone on their way into town from one of the outlying farms. But this horse stopped at her door. She covered the inkwell to keep the ink from drying out and wiped down the pen. Obviously even here she would be interrupted.

  She was already standing when a knock sounded at the door.

  Chapter 11

  She should have known. Or at the very least guessed it.

  “Mr. Calvert.” Linda put as much of a chill into her voice as she was able. It apparently worked, as Mr. Calvert blanched.

  “Miss, Addams,” he said in a rush, “if you care about your students, you’ll hear me out. I wanted to come by and apologize for my actions last evening. I was… well, there were reasons, of course, but not excuses.” He was staring at the door frame, holding his hat in his hand. “When I saw you with Rachel, I…”

  “You suspected me of snooping,” Linda said, crossing her arms, and waiting him out.

  “No.” He looked directly at her. His eyes, the color of a winter sky, met hers, bright with an intensity that left her shaken. “No ma’am, I did not. I was afraid for Rachel.”

  “Are you saying you thought I would hurt Rachel?” Linda was aghast.

  “Yes, ma’am I am. Now…” he held up his hand for silence when she opened her mouth to protest. “I’m not saying as I think you’d try to hurt her or even want to hurt her, but you see… I saw her with you. She looked very happy. She’s only ever had me, and well, she’s wanting a woman to trust in and talk to and…learn from. But…I was afraid that you would take it lightly, you know, that you would break her trust. I don’t want her to go through that. Rachel deserves better. I don’t like seeing her get hurt.”

  “I have no intention of hurting the child,” she snapped, feeling the heat rush to her cheeks.

  “No, I realize that, but what happens if someone accuses you of favoritism? You’re her teacher, you have to treat all the children the same. If you bond with her now and once school starts up again, you become distant…”

  “I think I see what you mean.” Linda sighed. Much as she didn’t want to. Obviously, this wasn’t going to be a conversation that was going to be quickly over. She might as well invite him in. At least then the entire town wouldn’t be witnessing their… discussion. “Please, Mr. Calvert, won’t you come in?

  “Thank you, Miss Addams,” he said and nodded. He walked in and looked for a place to sit. Linda started to close the door and stopped. Mary Lynn was standing across the street with a look on her face like she’d just found a dead rat in a head of lettuce. Linda waved to her, but Mary Lynn pointed her nose in the air and spun on one heel.

  “Whatever is the matter with everyone today?” she murmured and shut the door.

  “I beg your pardon?” Thomas asked from behind her.

  “Ah… nothing.” Linda shook her head, “just talking to myself. Now, what can I do for you, Mr. Calvert?”

  “Miss Addams.” He perched on the corner of her desk. It was the only one big enough to support him. Thomas Calvert’s large frame seemed to fill the schoolhouse, his broad shoulders, and well-muscled arms, making him suddenly intimidating. Yet he balanced against her desk with such a look of abject dejection that Linda was hard pressed to feel threatened despite his size.

  “I need you to understand a few things. Rachel has had some very hard times in her life. She was raised these past few years by me, and although I love her dearly, I am a man, after all, and not very knowledgeable about raising children. Especially girls. I never grew up around girls, I had two brothers myself, and there weren’t a lot of girls out on the frontier. I grew up ranching, and my own mother died when I wasn’t that much older than Rachel is now.”

  She nodded, well understanding how isolating ranch life was. There were too many such places too far from town for the children to come to school. She had visited many ranches last summer, taking schoolbooks out to families that the children might study at home. There was a desperate need for more schools, especially as new towns continued to spring up out on the Colorado plains.

  Mr. Calvert drew in a deep breath and stared at his hands. “It won’t be long before she’ll need to know things that women understand, and I won’t be able to help her….” He paused. “You know. Women things.” His face was flushed. So was hers.

  “I understand, Mr. Calvert.”

  “No, I don’t think you do,” his tone was apologetic as he shook his head, “And I’m doing a poor job of explaining myself.” He stood, moving around the classroom without seeming to really see it.

  After a silent moment he stopped his pacing and turned toward Linda. There was something he wasn’t saying. Something…hidden that lay just beneath the words. His wife had died back East, Linda recalled. It was obviously still a painful subject.

  It had to be hard for him, to not be there with her, she thought, and felt her heart soften toward this man she was grudgingly coming to respect.

  “Anyway, like I was starting to say, it’s been a rough life for a growing girl. For a while there, we had nothing - it was all invested in the stock, and it would be a year or two before we would break even, let alone turn a profit. Rachel and I didn’t have much. I worked my place, and I worked odd jobs too, whatever I could find. Rachel was left alone when she was too young to be alone, but we didn’t have anyone. She became independent and withdrawn.”

 

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