The Teacher's Star

by Marisa Masterson

  With a great deal of help from him, Delia mounted the black and white horse. A paint, he’d called it earlier when he chose it for her.

  After declaring he needed to purchase a mare for her, Rol picked up the carpet bag she’d hurriedly packed and led her to the nearby livery. In a town the size of Belle, no building was very far from the others.

  Paps had made his way back to the livery by then. He poked his head around a stall door and grinned at Rol’s request to purchase a mare.

  “Glad to see you ain’t leavin’ her on her lonesome here in Belle. A visit to the ranch’ll be good for her.”

  Frowning, Rol squared his shoulders defensively. “Now, why would I leave my new bride in town just because someone played matchmaker? Winter nights are mighty cold, Paps.”

  Delia felt heat color her cheeks at Rol’s suggestive words. Thank goodness she didn’t have to face a wedding night. Did she? Rol wouldn’t demand his rights and still plan to annul the marriage, would he? She worried over the thought and almost missed the conversation between the men.

  Rol was shaking his head when she again focused on their talk. “No, not the palomino. A blonde won’t compliment my wife. How about that paint?”

  Rol checked the black and white horse’s teeth and then her legs. “She has good conformation. How much?”

  The two dickered over a price and soon Paps produced a saddle. Delia had rarely had the chance to ride so she stared stupidly at the mounting block when Rol led the horse to it.

  “I, uh, I’m not sure…”

  He shot her a teasing grin. “A little nervous, Mrs. Anderson?”

  Head held high, Delia brought the skirt of her brown dress up between her legs and stepped onto the block before swinging a leg over the mare’s back. Her husband ran a hand over the mare’s side and then she felt the warmth of it on her calf. Her eyes swung to his. Admiration made his brown eyes a warm cocoa tone. The man certainly put on a good act for Paps.

  Now, as the late January darkness intensified the cold, she hung on to the pommel as she bounced along on the mare’s back, struggling to keep her feet in the stirrups when she desperately wanted to grip the horse’s barrel with her legs. Amazingly, her husband looked back occasionally to check on her progress. He hadn’t struck her as a caring man. Maybe she’d misjudged him.

  Like she’d mistakenly been convinced he was a criminal. A marshal! That fact had yet to completely sink into her mind.

  With the warrant for Jubal Yarborough now in hand, what would Rol do? She supposed it didn’t really concern her. She planned to get rid of her badge that night when she could retrieve it from her petticoats. She’d give it to Rol and be finished with her stint as a secret marshal.

  Another worry gnawed at her. Why had Rol chosen a black and white horse for her? Did he know about her parentage? Was he hinting that he did?

  He’d said its colors were perfect for her. Did she dare ask him? Could she hint around the topic without mentioning her mixed blood?

  The question of an annulment came back to her. Did he think they’d get an annulment because she had colored ancestry?

  No chance to speak with him presented itself as they rode on in the gathering darkness. He stayed ahead of her, his shoulders stiff as if searching for danger. For herself, she had all she could handle staying on the horse. Determination kept her in the saddle. Thank the Lord the horse seemed willing enough to follow Rol’s big bay stallion.

  After what seemed like hours to her as an unskilled rider--but probably had not even been thirty minutes--lights appeared on the horizon. Her husband’s shoulders relaxed ahead of her. Her husband! What could she have done to stop that from happening?

  The sad truth was Rol Anders embodied qualities that she’d secretly dreamed of in her perfect man. Tall, handsome, not afraid to face danger, and a loving father. That made being married to him so much worse. She had the husband she’d always wanted, yet it wasn’t a real marriage. And never would be real.

  She sighed and startled at a laugh near her. Rol had stopped his horse, allowing her to catch up with him. Delia had been lost in her thoughts and hadn’t noticed that.

  “Ride that tough on you?” His tone was almost teasing. He’d never been friendly toward her, except as part of this farce he’d created.

  Not wanting to explain her sigh, she simply nodded. “It’s not something I do often.”

  He chuckled. “I’d warrant it’s not something you’ve even done before. That is, if the way you clung to that pommel was anything to go by.”

  Her lips tightened and she said nothing. Why answer him when she knew he was only teasing and not trying to start an argument?

  Breaking the suddenly heavy silence, he pointed toward the buildings ahead of them. “I’m taking you to the shed where I keep my horses rather than the house.” Evidently he could make out her questioning frown in the twilight since he explained, “Eenie will be there. I want you with me when I explain about the marriage.”

  Her small nod must have satisfied him. It was difficult to make out much of his expression in the increasing blackness. However, he said nothing more, only turning away to head into the ranch.

  Rather than going to what she recognized as the barn, he headed toward a large shed behind it. Her horse and his seemed eager to be inside for the night as their pace increased. The bay nickered and a call from the shed answered him. This brought a nicker from her horse, as well.

  Not her horse. Merely, the horse she rode. None of this would be a part of her life for long, she reminded herself.

  Rol dreaded the next few minutes. Eenie made clear her dislike for Miss Perkins in a dozen different ways over the last three months. Now, he would have to explain that he’d married the woman. And just how did he tell the girl that they weren’t keeping his wife for long?

  Eenie suddenly appeared in the doorway of the shed. Probably the nicker of his horse had caught her attention, he guessed. Faint lantern light seeped out the door, alerting the girl to the presence of another rider coming with him. As he neared he saw her neck crane to see around him.

  Dismounting quickly, he moved to help Delia from the mare. As Rol turned back with reins in hand, he glimpsed Eenie’s curiosity turn to recognition and shock.

  Without speaking, her father led the horses into the shed and removed the saddle from first the bay and then the paint. He didn’t know how to begin the conversation and it seemed Delia was determined to leave the telling up to him.

  When neither he nor Delia spoke, Eenie’s question burst out in a sudden shower. “Why is Miss Perkins here? How long’s she staying and where’s she sleepin’? We only got the two beds, Pa.” Suspicion turned to a child’s form of skepticism as she finished speaking with a toss of her wild brown hair. Hair that clearly hadn’t been brushed that day.

  Looking at her brave, lawman husband, Delia could clearly see his face blush in the lantern light. The man rubbed a hand across the back of his neck, yet he said nothing. She’d seen him do that movement before when he was uncomfortable about a situation.

  She smiled sweetly at the student who’d fought all of her overtures during the past three months and held out her hand. Surprisingly, the girl moved to her and took hold of it. Delia tenderly squeezed the child’s work-roughened hand before speaking.

  “Perhaps your bed is large enough for the two of us. I could share with you tonight. On Monday, I’ll be back in my own bed.”

  The girl turned dark eyes up to the teacher. Eyes so like her father’s. The trust in them told Delia the girl trusted her to only tell the truth. “But why are you here, Miss Perkins?”

  This time Rol spoke up. “Her name’s Mrs. Anderson for a little while. Then she’ll be Miss Perkins again.” Simple. Direct. That should settle the issue of his marriage.

  The winter wind whipped outside, easily heard in the silence that hung heavily in the shed. While Rol finished caring for the horses, no one spoke. Eenie sat, scowling in his direction. Delia stood, discreetly rubbing he
r backside. The ride had been rough on her, he saw. She was quite a rare woman in his experience. She never once complained.

  With the horses cared for, Rol grabbed Delia’s carpet bag and led everyone to the small house that had once housed the foreman’s family. Since Paps Johnson lived in town rather than on the ranch, the foreman and his brood occupied the main house. That made it possible for Rol to rent this one along with the shed for his horses. The horses had been a perfect cover for him to live near Belle. Amazingly, he’d discovered that he enjoyed training them.

  No sooner had they settled into the small front room than the little girl began to speak. What she said, though, surprised him. He’d expected her to complain about his marriage. That couldn’t be further from what was actually on the girl’s mind.

  “But Pa, I don’t understand. Married peoples stay married. Less one gets dead, like Ma did.”

  Eenie sat on the sofa beside her father, her face upturned. Her look of pleading stunned him. He’d expected anger at hearing he’d married the hated teacher. Instead, Rol was coming to understand that his daughter didn’t really despise Delia.

  What distressed Rol, tugging sharply at his heart, was Eenie’s desperation for a mother. The girl’s pleading made the need for a ma clear. If he were to search out a mother for the girl, he couldn’t do better than the woman who sat across from them in a straight-backed chair. Her hands were folded demurely and a tender, concern creased her lovely face. Delia obviously cared about his daughter.

  To stay married, he’d need to change his lifestyle. Running off with one warrant after another, he’d rarely been home with Deborah, Eenie’s mother. Maybe that’s why she done what she…

  He stopped his thoughts there. He’d been a terrible husband who didn’t deserve a second chance at happiness. And he sensed that he could be happy married to Delia.

  His daughter’s pleading eyes tore at him. Maybe this wasn’t about him after all. The question should be if Eenie could be happy with Delia as a mother. It wasn’t his second chance at love. It was Eenie’s desire for something she’d never had—a mother.

  Putting an arm around the little girl, father and daughter embraced as he spoke into her messy hair. “You’re right. Married people stay together. And new mothers don’t just leave.”

  A squeak from the direction of the chair brought his attention to the new mother. She’d half risen. At his cocked eyebrow, she appeared to deflate, flopping back into the chair without the lady-like grace she always showed.

  Her movement grabbed Eenie’s attention as well. The girl moved to sit on the floor by the teacher’s legs, leaning her head against the woman. “I don’t mind you as my new ma, Miss Perkins. Honest. Please don’t not be married to my pa just cuz I’m naughty in school.”

  He watched Delia once again sit primly on the edge of her chair. Her hand softly caressed his daughter’s cheek as she spoke. “This marriage, well, caught us both by surprise. I’m not sure we can stay married, sweetheart.”

  Across the small room, Rol’s back stiffened, and he rubbed a hand across his jaw. His stare brought her eyes to him.

  “What’s there to keep us from being married?” Since she was a schoolteacher, the woman couldn’t already be married. Was she betrothed to someone back in Missouri?

  Shaking her head, she looked pointedly at Eenie’s head now cradled on her lap as she stroked the girl’s dark hair. He refused to back down, fiery eyes willing her to speak.

  “Money, for one thing. Your work takes you all over. I want a husband who’s home most every night.” Her wistful tone let him know how important that was to her.

  “Well, I can’t argue with that. Money’s important in keeping a family. I’d have to think on a way for us to settle in one place.”

  His response shocked her, it appeared, as her jaw gaped. She closed her mouth and then opened it to voice another objection.

  “For another thing, Mr. Anders, you didn’t use your real name during the ceremony. That makes this marriage a farce.”

  Eenie started to cry. Delia took her up into her lap, rocking their bodies as she shushed the child. The action proved Rol’s earlier thoughts. The woman was born to be a mother. Added to that fact was an important but uncomfortable one. She moved him like no woman had in the long, lonely eight years since his wife’s death.

  He kept his tone neutral as he answered her challenge. “It so happens that I signed my real name on the marriage certificate.” He rose and, standing over her, reached into his pocket. Taking out the folded document, he straightened it for her.

  Around the sweaty head snuggled against her shoulder, the skeptical woman eyed the names. Then she lifted triumphant eyes to his. With a snort of triumph, she said, “You did not sign it as Rol Anders. Just another invented name, and a foreign one at that.”

  “Actually, it’s another secret, I suppose, rather than another invented name. Ronaldo Andretti is my given name.” It was his turn to snort derisively. “I learned fast that I wouldn’t get ahead in this world by using it, so I adopted an American name.”

  Prejudice appeared to be something she could understand. Her face softened as she nodded silently. Then she spoke so softly that he would have missed her words if he were sitting on the sofa.

  “I know how unfair attitudes can be. It’s why we can’t stay married.”

  Delia kissed Eenie’s brow as the little girl looked up in response to the woman’s words. “Don’t you wanna be my ma?”

  A small, sad smile flitted across the woman’s lips and then was gone. It brought a panic to Rol’s gut. She had to be his. Seeing her in his home and with his child made this marriage feel so good and right. Why couldn’t she see that Eenie needed her?

  Again, she spoke softly as she almost crooned her words to the child. “Eenie honey, you’re too young to understand adults and some of their strange ways. I’m different than you and your father. That would make some folks believe we shouldn’t be married.”

  This time Rol spoke. “Different how?”

  Her face bore a confused look, like she’d expected him to already know. The expression baffled him, but not nearly so much as her next words did.

  “Different like the palomino from the black and white you chose today.” After speaking, she tucked her face into the child’s hair, hiding from him.

  He tried to make sense of her comparison. “You think I’d want a blonde instead of a brunette with beautiful creamy skin?”

  Peeking an eye out of the hair, she mumbled, “You think I have beautiful skin?”

  Carefully, gently, he put a hand under her jaw and lifted her face to look at him. “I’ve admired you greatly. Everything about you is beautiful.”

  She searched his face for any trace of deception before smiling. “I’ve never had a sweeter compliment. Thank you.”

  “Now that you know I want you for a wife—” His voice paused as he searched for a way to phrase his next words, mindful of his daughter’s presence. “—in that intimate way, maybe you won’t think I’d rather be married to a blonde.”

  His words didn’t reassure her. Frustration twisted her lovely mouth as distress shone clearly in her eyes. Something was wrong here, and he couldn’t figure it out to fix it.

  A sigh from deep inside her only added to his unease. When she spoke, it was like someone ripped the words from her lips.

  “I’m passing. I think that makes it illegal for the two of us to marry.”

  He shook his head as if to clear away a fog in his brain. “You didn’t plan to stay in Belle? Where were you passing to in the future?”

  She shook her head and a tendril of lovely dark hair escaped to fall across her cheek. Rol reached out to feel it, touching her face. Delia leaned into that hand as a small sob escaped her.

  “No, you aren’t getting what I’m saying.” Pulling away from his hand, she soberly spoke the words that made clear her concern about being married. “My mother and I were once slaves.”

  Chapter 6

&
nbsp; Eenie snuggled down under her covers. She’d said her prayers and planted a noisy good night kiss on both her father’s and Delia’s cheeks. In fact, she’d allowed Delia to give her a good all over washing as well as to brush out her wild hair. It now lay in a braid over the girl’s shoulder.

  After Delia’s announcement, Rol quickly realized the rest of their conversation needed to take place away from his daughter’s young ears. Hatred for someone because of race was beyond Eenie’s scope of experience. And, for now, he wanted to keep it that way.

  When Delia announced that she’d once been a slave, Eenie looked up with wide eyes before gasping out, “Isn’t that pitiful, Pa? Someone tried to hurt Miss Perkins.”

  Those words showed her innocence. She had no concept of slavery. The girl had little schooling and, evidently, Delia hadn’t taught about it in school.

  He’d changed the subject, asking Eenie if she’d eaten at the main house. When he learned she had, he declared it was bedtime.

  Delia’s face relaxed. The relief on it showed her gladness at the change in topic. Taking over, she’d readied the little girl for the night.

  Now, Eenie’s eyes closed and a little smile played about her lips. She radiated a contentment he hadn’t seen in the girl. At least, not since her mother’s death.

  Thoughts of his wife’s death reminded him that any marriage would be for Eenie’s sake. Still, he’d work hard to make this wife happy. His soul couldn’t take knowing he might be responsible for a second woman’s death.

  Touching his wife’s arm, he pointed to the door. Taking the hint, she walked in front of him. Exiting, Rol softly shut the bedroom door.

  Turning, he saw her standing stiffly by the door, carpet bag in hand. “Are you going somewhere?”

  She shrugged with pretended indifference. “I have no idea what to do, Mr., uh, Andretti.”

  He smiled at her overly formal tone. Good, he thought, she’s as nervous as I am about this talk.

  Reaching out, he gently pried the bag from her hands. Moving to his bedroom, Rol set it on a chair by the armoire. Pivoting to go back out to her, his eyes widened when he realized that she’d followed him.