“Yes, sir!”
“Good.” The bell began to ring, signaling the end of the lunch recess. “Get to class. I’ll see you this afternoon. Oh, and tell Hattie I’ll have a hand bring out the buggy so she can deliver you to the ranch.” Jake turned and strode away.
After school, Hattie had her work cut out to keep from grinning like a ninny on the ride out to Jake’s ranch. Jonathan sat beside her on the buggy seat, leaning forward as if he could urge the horse to greater speed. Hattie’s heart galloped as she thought of Jake. Oh, that man. That splendid, marvelous, ingenious man! This absolved him forever for his part in her downfall at Roger’s hands. This was the Jake Murdock she had known and loved as a child: generous to a fault, kind, and concerned about the welfare of those less fortunate than himself.
He was waiting for them in the driveway when they pulled up, a sweat-stained, battered hat shading his eyes. He extended a hand to assist Hattie from the wagon seat and, accepting it, she grinned and jumped to the ground. Releasing her, he turned to Jonathan. “Go into the kitchen and tell Cook to give you a meal. When you’re done, go on over to the bunkhouse—it’s the building over there with the big porch. Happy will assign you your rig. I’ll see you in the north pasture when you’re all set.” He gave succinct directions and watched the gangly youth until he disappeared around the corner of the house. Then he turned back to Hattie.
She flung her arms around his neck and squeezed. “Jake Murdock, I adore you.” She planted a quick peck of a kiss on his lips, then whirled away. “I’m going to take Belle for a ride as long as I’m here. It seems an age since I’ve ridden.” Then she was off and running toward the stables.
Jake stood still as a stone, staring at her retreating figure. Every vein in his body felt scalded by the sudden rush of hot blood pulsing through it, and he closed his eyes for a moment, drawing in a deep breath. Christ Almighty. He had to forcibly restrain himself from following her into the stable. This was not the time. He had plans and was following a strict timetable. But many more incidents like this would shoot to hell all his careful planning.
Hattie best not get too cocky, though, thinking she could say things like that, thinking she could just kiss him and run away. For his patience was a fragile thing—and already worn thin. And whether Hattie Taylor knew it or not, their time was coming.
29
FALL AND WINTER 1908
Teaching rewarded Hattie in ways she’d never imagined. She had looked forward to the challenge it represented but hadn’t dreamed of the inroads it would make into her acceptance by the community. It was a continuous source of delight to discover her students liked her.
She felt validated by their attentiveness in class, their bright minds and fresh outlooks. Their personalities and backgrounds ran the gamut, as did individual desires for knowledge. Yet, as a class, there was a uniformity to their efforts to achieve, and Hattie told anyone who bothered to ask that her students couldn’t be topped. It never entered her mind it might be her enthusiasm for the world and events around her firing their imagination, her firmness and unique methods that brought wandering attention back to the lesson at hand. She only knew she was blessed with an exceptional class.
Her students talked about her at home. Beginning with the snake episode on the first day, parents began to hear Miss Taylor said this and did that. Hattie had no way of knowing her name was bruited about with increasing frequency across supper tables, in stables and barns during chores, in parlors over embroidery lessons, and in ranch kitchens while busy hands prepared meals. It seemed out of the blue when parents began consulting her about their children’s progress.
She loved talking about her students. It became a familiar sight in town, Hattie Taylor’s face alight with enthusiasm, her mobile mouth smiling as she regaled any parent who took the time to ask with detailed instances of their child’s academic achievement. She would halt whatever she was doing wherever she was: in Norton’s Mercantile, outside the bank or the Mattawa Clarion, or simply walking along the streets of town, to uninhibitedly block an aisle or a sidewalk while she praised and discussed her students.
Only gradually did it dawn on Hattie that, with those very conversations, she was being accorded a measure of respectability in return. When the realization finally sank in, her first reaction was surprise. After all, except for her two years in Seattle, respectability wasn’t an attribute applied to her.
Her newly gained acceptance tickled her pink. She’d probably never marry. How could she, when the specter of explaining her lack of virginity haunted potential relationships? But she felt content envisioning a life spent teaching. It represented personal independence and Hattie thought she could do a lot worse. After all, she earned forty dollars a month, had work both challenging and steady, and was carving a place for herself here in Mattawa.
And she got to work with Nell. Making friends with another female later than most, she especially valued her relationship with her fellow schoolmarm. As she’d predicted, Mattawa embraced Nell wholeheartedly, and Hattie was as proud as a mother with a cherished only child. They loved her friend’s impeccable manners and obvious breeding, her gentleness with their young ones. Of the whole town, only Moses seemed to feel the need to hold himself aloof.
He was no longer actively hostile since Hattie blew up at him in the livery, yet he stubbornly maintained a cool-eyed reserve around Nell. Hattie wasn’t thrilled with his attitude.
But the fault wasn’t solely his. Nell’s demeanor didn’t defuse the situation. Instead, her attitude had just the opposite effect and simply inflamed the stance Moses had taken with her.
Nell was consistently stiff around him. Her usual ebullience evaporating when Moses was nearby, she became awkward and formal.
Hattie harbored a secret urge to grab them both by the scruffs of their necks and knock their heads together. It made her want to swear—and normally only conversations with Roger Lord could make her do that. The two of them were the funniest, warmest people she knew with everyone, anyone, else. Watching them with each other made her want to scream.
But she’d made up her mind that as long as they weren’t actively at war, she would bite her tongue and stay out of it. They needn’t think, however, that because she wouldn’t interfere, she’d help them promote their idiocy. She talked about each to the other incessantly, as though bearing the news of one cherished friend to another.
The curious thing was, she could almost swear they hung on every word—but conceded that particular notion was likely a cross between wishful thinking and an overactive imagination.
* * *
—
Buchannan Hotel
FRIDAY, DECEMBER 18, 1908
For weeks, the teachers had been helping their students rehearse for the annual Christmas pageant. Now rehearsals were finished and pageant night was upon them. Her stomach aflutter with nerves, Hattie paced behind the stage curtain in the ballroom where the pageant was being held. Had she forgotten any crucial instructions? She bet she had. For all she knew, she’d neglected an entire vital segment of the production. As a result, the darn thing would probably be ruined, and it would be all her fault. “Lord, would you look at that rain come down,” she muttered and dropped the curtain on the small backstage window to shut out the lashing rain on a hard-blowing wind. “It’s coming down in sheets! What if no one comes?”
“Peek out the stage curtain,” Nell suggested. “The room is already filling.”
“Where’s my music? Oh no, I’ve lost my music!” Hattie began pawing frantically through the heaped coats, umbrellas, and overshoes.
“For heaven’s sake, it’s right here where you left it.” Nell handed her the sheaf of sheet music. “Please, put it on the piano so you’ll know where it is, then go check on your students to make sure everyone has everything they need. That should calm you down.” Nell shook her head in amusement as Hattie raced off. She’d never seen Hattie
so unhinged . . . and over a school pageant, for pity’s sake.
As Nell predicted, working with the students—correcting last-minute problems, locating lost props, and adjusting costumes—settled Hattie’s nerves. By the time Jack Dalton signaled her, she had her class lined up in the wings in the order in which they’d appear. With a smile and a firm nod, she took her place at the piano. Flexing her fingers, Hattie listened to Jack welcome the parents, families, and guests of the student body. There was a shuffle of feet backstage. Then, slowly the red velvet curtain opened and she launched into the first tune, smiling encouragement as the first group of students began to sing.
As with all school pageants, there were forgotten or misquoted lines. One of Hattie’s students, carried away by his moment in the limelight, used an extravagant arm gesture that knocked a crown off of one of the three wise men. One of Nell’s little ones forgot the words to her song and hummed until she came to a part she remembered. A high school student tripped, staggering halfway across the stage before he regained his balance. The audience didn’t care. They applauded each effort generously, laughed when they were supposed to, and managed to conceal their laughter at some of the more outrageous mistakes. The play was a roaring success.
The noise level during the post-performance reception rose steadily. Chairs were moved to the perimeter of the ballroom. Cakes, pies, and cookies, brought by the parents and deposited on a table near the entrance, were unwrapped and arranged. Urns of coffee and tea were brought from the kitchen to flank either end of the desserts, and a huge bowl of punch was placed on a small table nearby. The students were still in a high state of excitement as they accepted praise from their guests. The little ones chased each other, their shrill laughter bouncing off the vaulted ceiling as they dodged between the milling, shifting groups of adults.
Miss Eunice Peabody buttonholed Hattie. She cleared her throat nervously. “I . . . um . . . wanted to commend you for whatever it was you did to convince my niece to perform onstage tonight.”
Hattie’s eyes lit up and she smiled widely. “Yes, Cora is very shy, isn’t she? But she put so much effort into overcoming her nervousness, and wasn’t she simply wonderful?”
Moses watched Nell watch Hattie. Nell’s dark eyes were soft and her lips curved up in a small, satisfied smile, and against his better judgment he crossed the room until he stood just behind her. Leaning down, he said softly in her ear, “That woman talking to Hattie? She’s always been one of her biggest critics. Was convinced Hattie was bound for hell from the moment she stepped in town—and didn’t mind sharing her conviction with the rest of Mattawa.”
Nell tilted her head back and smiled at him over her shoulder. It was a natural smile, free of her usual constraint. “But she’s winning her over, isn’t she?” She laughed with sudden exuberance. “One by one, she’s winning them all over.”
He looked down into Nell’s face. God, she was so damn pretty. And her soft black hair, brushing his chin, smelled sweeter than Henderson’s orchard in March. “Yeah,” he agreed in a slow drawl and tore his gaze away to look across the room at Hattie again. “She is by God winning them over.” With a final inhalation of her sweet scent, he straightened and moved away.
Nell watched him go until her attention was commandeered by a student’s parent. But in a corner of her mind, she wondered: Was Moses in love with Hattie? Did he still have dreams of her, those torrid, impossible-to-imagine dreams she had heard secondhand from her friend?
The father talking to Nell found her sudden blush quite charming.
Across the room, Aurelia Donaldson tapped Jake’s shoulder with her lorgnette. “I don’t believe you’re paying attention to me, young man,” she said crisply.
Jake pulled his eyes away from Hattie and grinned at the woman his father had grown up with. “Not paying attention? Nonsense! Who could ignore the prettiest girl here?”
“What horsefeathers.” Her faded blue eyes glowed with amusement. “I swan, if you aren’t your father’s son all over! Luke Murdock was the only other man I ever met could spout such folderol and almost make a woman believe he meant every word of it.”
She scanned the room, then brought her gaze back to Jake’s face, her eyes sharp as they peered at him through her lorgnette. “You warm the cockles of this old girl’s heart, Jacob Murdock, so I’m doing you a favor in return. Look what Hattie Taylor is standing under. I see the high school students have been up to their usual Christmastide tomfoolery.”
Jake searched the room until he spotted Hattie. He looked at the arched doorway over her head and breathed, “Hot damn.” A huge smile creasing his cheeks, he bent down and gave Aurelia a noisy buss on the cheek. “Thanks, Aurelia. I owe you.”
“Indeed you do, sonny,” she replied and reinstated her stern expression. She couldn’t help but smile, however, as she watched him head for the red-haired teacher in the doorway.
Crossing the floor, Jake noticed several high school boys covertly watching the archway where Hattie stood chatting to Augusta. He raised an eyebrow at one of them as he swept up to her. “Nice program, Hattie.” He turned to Augusta with an impeccable half bow of acknowledgment. “Mother.”
“Jake!” Hattie’s face was flushed with her students’ triumph as she turned to him. “Didn’t it turn out well? These kids are so darn talented!”
“Mistletoe!” a raucous cry interrupted her words. “Hey, Mr. Murdock, Miss Taylor’s standing under the mistletoe!”
Jake pretended surprise as he glanced up. Hattie’s confusion was real and she glanced around to find herself the cynosure of almost every eye. She turned back to Jake with a wary expression, her face flushed. “Oh dear.”
“Gotta be a sport, Hattie.”
“Now, Jacob,” Augusta said. “Don’t you go embarrassing her.”
He gave his mother a smile of assurance, then bent down, one hand reaching out to lightly cup the side of Hattie’s face. He was highly aware of the callouses on his hand compared to her soft, smooth skin. He slowly lowered his head while Big-eyes stared at him like a deer caught in the light of a poacher’s lantern. His lips hovered just above hers for an attenuated moment but didn’t touch down. Then, with the softest of touches, he pressed his mouth against her cheek at the corner of her mouth, his parted lips nearly but not quite touching hers. He rubbed his thumb once across her cheekbone; then his hand slid away and he straightened. The high school boys stomped and hollered their approval; the adults smiled, pleased with his decorum, and the noise level rose again as conversations resumed.
For Hattie, it wasn’t quite as easy to regain her equilibrium. She, too, was pleased he hadn’t turned it into a spectacle. And yet . . . For an instant there, feeling his breath wash over her lips, she’d wanted him to kiss her—really kiss her. It was madness, of course, but remembering how his one kiss had felt resurfaced for a moment with incredible force, slamming through her body, making her want . . . well, making her want—she didn’t even know what. Darn it, she was just beginning to make a place for herself in Mattawa, so, truly, anything other than the peck he’d given her would have been ruinous. And yet . . .
All she knew was the kiss he’d bestowed upon her left her feeling unsettled.
* * *
—
Across the room, Nell tried to gauge Moses’ reaction to the public kiss, but his expression gave nothing away. Irritation with herself itched like scratchy wool. What possible difference did it make? Even if he didn’t love Hattie, he had made it plain he didn’t even like her, so why did she keep trying to assess his every response to Hattie’s actions?
Good grief, can you act any more like a fool? Nell knew she wasn’t the type of woman who inspired men to dream lusty dreams. It had only been in the past year she’d managed to inspire a few to ask her to dance! And it wasn’t as if she aspired to be that type of woman anyway. Right? More than anything, she’d like to talk to Hattie about her utterly c
onfused emotions regarding Moses Marks. Yet, how could she? How on earth would she phrase it? I’m experiencing all these new emotions for your oldest friend and I don’t know how to deal with them. And, oh, by the way, is he in love with you? Hattie was so oblivious to her own appeal, she’d probably reject the question out of hand without giving it so much as a moment’s consideration. But, merciful Lord, these feelings! Nell shivered. How was she supposed to navigate all these unfamiliar feelings if she couldn’t talk to someone about them?
She didn’t have an answer to that, so in the weeks after the Christmas pageant, she simply locked them deep inside and pretended they didn’t exist. Yet they were ever present, causing her to become even more desperately stiff and correct in Moses’ company. Perhaps in retaliation, he dropped the cool politeness he’d adopted and went back to baiting her with faux sycophancy.
Nell had never been so unhappy in her life. This was a hurt that struck much deeper than simply being overlooked—and God knew feeling invisible had been bruising enough to her not-so-stalwart ego. But this . . . No one had ever actively disliked her before.
She tried not to let them, but her rampant emotions impacted her relationship with Hattie. She fought a niggling resentment she didn’t understand yet couldn’t seem to control. Hattie asked more than once if something was bothering her, but Nell couldn’t bring herself to unburden herself of all the emotions building inside her. Until an evening of rare balminess at the end of February, when they finally had words.
30
MONDAY, FEBRUARY 22, 1909
School was closed for Washington’s birthday. It was crystal clear, sunny, and unseasonably warm, with temperatures rising to the mid-sixties—a bonus spring day in the dead of winter—when Jake stopped by Augusta’s unannounced. Nell watched Hattie look up in delight when he burst into the dining room, where they’d just finished their luncheon.
The Ballad of Hattie Taylor Page 23
