His Prairie Sweetheart

by Erica Vetsch

  She took a bracing sip of tea before opening her father’s letter. With no idea what to expect, she unfolded the single sheet. It was written on bank letterhead, dated ten days before.

  Savannah,

  I am concerned about your current location, and I have taken steps to approach the school superintendents of several East Coast schools, where your presence would be welcome should you choose to continue in educating children.

  I am concerned regarding your income at that school district. Do you have enough funds for your needs? If necessary, wire any of my banks. Funds will be made available to you.

  Finally, I am concerned as to your well-being. Carolina has informed me that I have been remiss in my paternal duties, but we both know that I am not familial and have been bewildered by my daughters since they were born. I wish your mother was here to guide you. Thankfully, you have your aunts.

  If you should decide you would rather take a trip to Europe instead of hiding out there on the prairie, send me a wire.

  He’d signed it with his name, not Father, not Dad, not Pa, as Elias called his parent. Just “Jonathan Cox, President, Southern and Textile Bank.”

  Savannah read the letter twice more, unsure how she was supposed to feel about it.

  He was concerned, and she supposed this was the only way he knew to show it. Offer money, offer a trip, offer a different job where someone could keep an eye on her. Offer her an escape from this choice she’d made.

  But she didn’t want an escape. She would show her father and Elias that she was made of sterner stuff. That she could stay the course.

  * * *

  He’d tried to think of an honorable way to get out of taking Savannah around to all her students’ homes, but his conscience wouldn’t let him back out. And perhaps he could mediate and, hopefully, avoid hurt feelings.

  Savannah stepped out of the Halvorson cabin and closed the door behind her.

  “You’ll need a coat. It’s brisk today.”

  “This is a coat.” She frowned, tugging on a thin pair of gloves.

  “I mean a proper winter coat. You do have one, don’t you?”

  “I wish you’d stop fixating on my clothing. I’m perfectly warm, thank you, and I can take care of myself.” She climbed aboard and settled on the bench, smoothing and arranging her skirts.

  Stubborn as ever.

  “Suit yourself.” He flicked the reins. The mare obliged by breaking into a quick trot. Chilly air flowed over them, and Savannah gasped.

  “There’s a blanket in the back if you want it.” Elias thought she might be too proud to use it, too set on proving she didn’t need help, but after a minute she reached for the quilt and wrapped it around her shoulders.

  “We’re going to the Rosedahls first?” she asked.

  “Yes, and then the Rambeks, and if there’s time, the Magnussens. Those are the men that make up the school board. I figured if we started with them and you got their approval on the school supplies, the rest would follow their lead.” Or if they shut her down right away, she’d give up on the notion.

  “Good idea.”

  The silence between them hung heavy, and Elias chided himself. Just say it, get it over with. You won’t be happy until you do.

  “Listen, before we get there, I wanted to talk to you about what happened at the dance.”

  “Did I mention that I’d rather not talk about that? A gentleman wouldn’t bring it up again.” She held the edges of the blanket up to her cheeks to cut the wind.

  “Then I guess I’m no gentleman.” He flicked the reins again, feeling grim. “I wanted to apologize. I overreacted.”

  When she didn’t speak, he risked a glance at her.

  “So you don’t think I lured Rollef out there?” Her blue eyes pierced him.

  “No. I know you didn’t. I was feeling sore about something else, and I took it out on you.” Memories of Britta at last year’s harvest celebration made his fingers fist on the reins. He’d never told anyone about his feelings for her, but he found himself wanting to tell Savannah.

  “Pa homesteaded our farm just after the war. One of the reasons we settled here was because there were so many Norwegians. Pa thought it would be easier on my ma if she had some of her own people as neighbors.” Elias shifted. “I think Tyler thought if he hired a teacher with a Norwegian background, they would fit in and stay. But that didn’t work out. Not with Erik, and especially not with Britta.” He braced himself for the sting. He hadn’t said her name in months. Odd, this time it didn’t hurt as much.

  “Britta?”

  “Britta Thoreson. She was from Saint Paul, Norwegian, about your age, maybe a little older.” He cast back, but strangely, he couldn’t remember her features as sharply as he once did. “She was pretty, tall and slim, and she cut quite a path through the young men in this county.”

  “Was she a good teacher?”

  “Tyler seemed pleased enough. I knew her more outside of the school.” Sucking in a breath, Elias decided to tell the truth. “I had plans to court her as soon as school was out, and I told her as much. I thought we had an understanding, but at the harvest dance, she flirted and carried on with every man there. The dance was outside that night, and I lost track of her in the crowd. When I found her, she’d slipped away with another man. I found them in the barn, kissing. And unlike you and Rollef, Britta wasn’t protesting or trying to get away.”

  Savannah put her hand on his arm, dropping the blanket. “Elias, I’m sorry.”

  “Thanks. Anyway, that’s why I got so sore at the dance. Britta laughed it off, said I had no claim on her and she’d do what she wanted with whoever she wanted. I didn’t know what to do. Should I tell Tyler and let him deal with it? Before I could, she up and took off. Left without a word. Tyler tried to track her down, but she didn’t go to her home.” Elias shrugged. “Guess it was for the best. Anyway, I’m sorry about the other night.”

  He turned up a drive, ready to change the subject. “This is Rosedahl’s place. He’s the chairman of the board. Convince him of your plan and you’ll be home and dried.”

  The Rosedahls welcomed them in, and warmth from the hearth hit Elias’s cheeks. He breathed in the smells of bread and coffee.

  “Elias, welcome,” Mr. Rosedahl said in Norwegian. “Thank you for bringing the teacher to visit.” He cupped the backs of two little heads. “Say hello, Peder, Synove. Jespar had to go to town.” The kids greeted Savannah with shy smiles, and Mr. Rosedahl introduced his wife.

  The adults sat at the table, and Mrs. Rosedahl served thick slices of rye bread with butter and hot cups of coffee.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Rosedahl, first let me say what a joy it is to have Peder and Synove as students.” Savannah smiled as Elias translated. “Synove is very strong in math skills, and Peder has a real talent for getting everyone to work together. He’s a natural-born leader.”

  The parents beamed, and Mr. Rosedahl leaned back, tucking his fingers under his suspenders.

  “I wanted to ask you both what your goals are for the children this year. I know what I want them to accomplish, but I’d like to hear your views.” Savannah drew a small tablet and pencil from her bag.

  This both pleased and flustered the parents. Elias watched as one of the most reticent men in the community opened up.

  “We want them to read and speak English well, and to know about the history of their new country. They will learn of Norway and Norwegian things during the parochial term, so we want you to focus on American things.”

  “I’m sorry, the parochial term?”

  Elias stopped translating. “Didn’t Tyler tell you about the parochial term at school?”

  “No, what it is?”

  “It’s a two-week period each semester where the children are instructed in their Norwegian heritage and faith. Since th
e school is public and run by the state of Minnesota, but the parents want religious education incorporated into the curriculum, parochial terms are a compromise. The teacher, Mr. Birk, travels from school to school throughout this part of the state, staying for two weeks and teaching, then moving on. I can’t believe Tyler didn’t mention it.”

  Elias reminded himself to have a word with his brother the next time he saw him. This issue had been a bone of contention with the first teacher, and Britta hadn’t stayed long enough for it to be a problem. How would Savannah react to having her school interrupted again?

  “I see.” She tapped the pencil on her pad. “What a wonderful idea. I can certainly understand the parents wanting their children not to lose their heritage. I wish all school districts were as sensible.”

  Elias blinked, and then translated for the Rosedahls.

  “She is a good teacher for the children.” Mrs. Rosedahl refilled her husband’s coffee cup. “I think she has settled in very well. Agneta Halvorson says she is much easier to board than the other teachers, even if she does have many cases and bags. You don’t need to tell her that part.” The woman blushed. “Tell her we are happy with her teaching and ask if there is anything we can do to help.”

  Which was evidently the lead-in Savannah had been waiting for.

  “There is something I wished to talk to you about, not just as parents, but because Mr. Rosedahl chairs the school board.” She laced her fingers together. “One thing that is sorely lacking at the school is proper materials and equipment for the children. I understand that times are tough and the parents don’t have the funds at the moment to spend on books and papers and such. However, the need is great, and I’ve taken it upon myself to order supplies.”

  As Elias let them know what she’d said, Mr. Rosedahl’s eyelids descended to half-mast, and his arms crossed his chest.

  “I understand from Elias that this could be seen as a breach of manners, and I assure you that is not my intent. My goal is to help you accomplish your dreams for your children. We are a team in this. You provide the schoolhouse and my wages, the coal to heat the school, the hay to feed the horses the children ride, and the support here at home to ensure that they do their lessons. My part is to teach them, and in this case, to supply some of the materials.”

  Mr. Rosedahl rubbed his chin, his eyes narrowing. “What things did you order, why do you need them and how will you pay for them?”

  Elias expected nothing less than a succinct summing up by the man.

  “Excellent questions.” Savannah leaned forward, her eyes glowing. “I ordered slates and readers for each student. And for the classroom, I ordered a globe and a dictionary. If the children are to read and write in English, as you wish, they need to practice. Slates are much less expensive for practicing than ink and paper. In order for the children to understand both where in the world they come from and where they live now in relation to other nations, the globe is so helpful. I like flat maps, but a globe helps the children understand the distances and relationships better, both for current world borders and for history.”

  Her enthusiasm reached out and grabbed each of them, and Elias found himself nodding. To his surprise, he found Mr. Rosedahl nodding, too.

  “As to how the items are paid for...” She shrugged. “I would pay for them now, but I thought I would work out an exchange.”

  Eyebrows rose. “What sort of exchange?”

  “I am in need of winter clothing, a heavy coat, mittens, woolen garments. Where I come from, it rarely gets below freezing and never stays cold for long. I don’t have the appropriate garments for a winter in Snowflake.” She glanced at Elias. “So I thought perhaps the mothers of my students might be willing to either trade some of the winter clothes they no longer want, or even make clothes that would work for me. I am especially enamored of the lovely embroidery I saw on several of the costumes at the harvest dance and would love to have a few pieces of my own.”

  Elias sat back, leaning against the log wall, and stared at her. She tilted her head a fraction and gave him a what-do-you-think-of-that? look, all saucy and proud of herself.

  And she had reason to be. Charity would not be accepted, but a trade? Norwegians loved to trade.

  He laid it out for the Rosedahls, and Mrs. Rosedahl jumped up and ducked into the bedroom. She came out with a pair of woolen puttees, beautifully embroidered with red-and-gold flowers.

  “She wants to know if these are what you might be looking for.”

  Savannah took the puttees, stroking the silk embroidery. She touched the wool to her cheek. “Oh, my, these are so beautiful, it will be a pleasure to wear them. And so warm. That walk from the Halvorsons’ to the school won’t be as daunting now.”

  When they left, Elias helped her into the buckboard. She held the leg wraps in her lap, waving to the Rosedahls in the doorway as he pulled out of the farmyard.

  “How did you do that?” he asked when they reached the main road.

  “Do what?”

  “Didrik Rosedahl is the most skeptical, proud man I know. You not only turned him to your way of thinking, you had him agreeing with everything you said. You got him to not only agree to your proposal, but now he’s championing your cause. I’m flummoxed.”

  Her laughter rang out in the chilly air. “I didn’t think of it until midweek. At first, I was so mad at you for telling me I would offend everyone by ordering supplies that I couldn’t think what to do. On Wednesday, I was so cold walking to school, and Lars and Rut were saying this was a mild fall and it would get much colder. How was I going to get warm clothing, and how was I going to convince parents to let me buy schoolbooks? Then it all snapped into place.”

  Elias soaked in her laughter. She sounded happy and carefree, easy in his presence and buoyed by her success with the chairman of the school board. As well she should be.

  She clapped her hands “And just think, not only will the students have the things they need to learn, making my job easier, but I’ll have a winter wardrobe and some truly lovely pieces to show my sisters when I go back home to Raleigh.”

  His happiness cracked like ice on a lake. When she went home.

  A good warning. He could easily fall for someone like Savannah, and he needed the reminder that she had no intention of staying in Snowflake.

  Chapter Ten

  “You want to cook for us?” Elias asked.

  Savannah tamped together a stack of papers, butting them against her desk. “Yes, well, mostly for your mother. As a thank-you for her help over the skunk incident.”

  The windows rattled, and she shivered as the November wind struck the side of the schoolhouse. “It’s been doing that all day. We had a hard fight to keep it warm in here. If I kept the damper open too much, the wind sucked the heat right out, but if I closed it, the fire went out.”

  “It’s a fine line sometimes, depending on which way the wind is blowing.”

  She studied him, trying not to be obvious, trying not to admit that she’d missed seeing him. After a month of being together every Saturday, visiting all her students’ homes, she hadn’t talked to Elias in weeks. Today he had a scarf around his throat and the stubble of a couple days’ growth of whiskers on his cheeks.

  “How’s your coal holding up? It’s one of the things I came by to check on.” He used his teeth to pull his gloves off, and held his hands out to the stove.

  “We’ve made a dent in the coal store, but there’s still quite a bit left. Mr. Rosedahl stopped in earlier this week to check on it. He thought it would last through Christmas at least.” Savannah tucked the papers into her grade book and put the book into her satchel. She’d read and review them tonight after supper.

  “How’s the teaching going?” Elias turned from the stove and unbuttoned his coat. He reached inside and pulled out a crinkled yellow paper.

 
“Good, better than I imagined it would when I started.” She chuckled. “Though the children’s English is coming along much faster than my Norwegian. The singing helps. Somehow I can remember the words better when they’re put to music.”

  He surveyed the room. “Where’s your harp?”

  “I had to take it back to the Halvorsons’. There’s no heat here at night, and the fluctuations in temperature aren’t good for it. If you just look at a harp wrong it falls out of tune.” She tipped her head. “What’s bothering you? Is it that paper?”

  He shrugged and nodded. “It’s from Tyler. Bad news. Mr. Birk, the teacher for the parochial term, can’t make it to Snowflake this term. His horse bolted on him up near Big Stone Lake and flipped him out of his buggy. He’s got a broken leg and some broken ribs.”

  “Oh, the poor man.”

  “Yeah, poor him and poor me. Tyler says I need to teach the parochial term.” Rubbing his hand down his jaw, Elias handed her the telegram. “He says to work out the time with you, but the last two weeks before Christmas break might be best.”

  He sounded so grim a chill that had nothing to do with the weather raced across Savannah’s skin. “That’s as good a time as any. Are you worried about teaching?”

  “No. I can handle that.” He picked up one of the new readers off a desk and thumbed through it, set it down and moved to the globe, giving it a spin. “Guess you’d like that, huh? That would give you a month to go home for the holidays.”

  Savannah quit reading Tyler’s telegram. Her head snapped up. “Is that what has you on edge? My going home for Christmas?” Her hands went to her hips. “You think I’m going to decamp, don’t you? That if I leave, I won’t come back and finish the term?”

  With each sentence, she stepped closer, until they were toe to toe. “Well, thank you for thinking so highly of me. I’ll have you know I wasn’t even planning on going home for the holidays. I intend to spend Christmas in Snowflake and be right here in this classroom come the New Year.” She punctuated the last sentence by poking him in the chest at every word.