Sparks in Spearfish

by Kari Trumbo

  Lula sighed. It was always easier to give advice than take it. Having seven sisters, she was always getting well-meaning advice, but she hadn’t realized she’d been guilty of giving it too. “I know you’re right. I do forgive him, but I just don’t want to start over. I don’t want a friendship with him. I don’t even want to see him.”

  “Then you haven’t really forgiven – not by what you said to me. If he’s really sorry for all the things he did, then accept it and let him be kind to you in the future. What have you got to lose? He’s the teacher’s assistant. You might even get better grades.”

  “Don’t say that,” Lula groaned. “Now I’ll wonder if I got the marks I did because I earned them or because Barton wants to be nice.”

  “Maybe he wants a little more than that. He sure had eyes just for you when he walked in this morning.” Izzy batted her long dark lashes. “You just wait, Lula. I bet that man has plans for you.”

  “I want nothing to do with his plans. I need to get something to eat – I’ll meet you back in our room.” Lula scrambled away from Izzy, tired of the conversation. Would Barton dominate the whole day? Couldn’t she just enjoy anything? Why should she put herself on the track to be hurt again?

  The cafeteria was closed in preparation for supper, but a cook took pity on her and sent her off with a thick slice of bread. The scents from the kitchen made her almost empty stomach grumble. She was ready for a meal, not just a snack. She nibbled on it as she walked back toward the dorm.

  “I’m glad you were able to get something.”

  Lula jumped as Barton approached her from behind. She turned to find his warm blue eyes scanning her face, lingering on her lips for a moment longer than they should. She took a step back. He’d never done that before.

  “Yes, well … I missed the noon meal. I wasn’t feeling well and went to lie down. And thank you for the apple.” She would not let that slide for him to bring up later to boast about. If she thanked him now, he couldn’t.

  His taut masculine lips pulled back into a smile. “You’re a terrible liar, Lula. We both know you ran away to escape me, and you changed your clothes and hair because you think I haven’t changed from when you knew me before. I haven’t had a chance yet to prove to you that I’m not. But I will.” He held out his elbow and tipped his head.

  Such a gentlemanly thing to do – the second time that day he’d appeared to be a gentleman. What could he possibly want? She took his arm and prayed she wouldn’t regret it, but Izzy was right. Forgiveness meant she had to at least give him a second chance. “Why, Barton … I mean, Mr. Oleson, is it so important for you to show me the truth?”

  He directed them down the hall toward the door. “Because I worked harder than I’ve ever worked before to have the chance to do just that. It means everything to me.”

  “Everything?” she sputtered. “But I told you in class I don’t want to start a new friendship with you. And yet here you are. Catching me unawares yet again.”

  “And yet you haven’t walked away. I spent two years chasing you, trying to get your attention. I went about it all wrong, and as I said in class, I’m sorry for that. I’m done teasing you, thinking it will draw you closer.” He stopped and turned to her, his breath caressing her cheek. “I will show you the man I am, honorable and true. You can either keep running away or fall into my arms.” His eyes pierced hers with a heat she’d never felt. “I’ll be here to catch you.”

  Lula thoughts went to war against each other. Her past wanted to run right now, but part of her heart wanted to test him and see if this were just another act, an elaborate one, to let her guard down. Blast it, why did he still have claim her every thought?

  That evening, Barton ran his hands through his hair and groaned, then slammed his fist on his paper-strewn desk. He’d laid his cards on the table, but she still looked ready to run from him. He’d looked into those deep blue eyes of hers and seen nothing but fear and distrust. What if she packed up and went home, or reported him to one of the other teachers? Not that they’d ever listened to her before, thank the Lord. If they had, he’d have gotten the expulsion he deserved instead of just a sore bottom and a long talk with Pa.

  While the tanning of his hide had faded quickly, Pa’s words hadn’t. You treat a lady with respect at all times. You never cause her discomfort, never embarrass her publicly. And if you ever get married, always, always have your disagreements in private. Not only are arguments a private matter, working them out afterward is better done alone.

  The boy he’d been would’ve purposely looked for a fight just to make up. But now he was a man who’d never wish a fight just to get closer to a gal. Lula had seen enough of his bad side for a good long time.

  Frank Ridley, the teacher he shared his quarters with, walked in and closed the door behind him with a dramatic sigh. “How I hate the first day back. The students are so excited and noisy, it’s impossible to have a productive day.” He pushed away from the door and shrugged out of his suit coat. “One little boy just wouldn’t behave, pestering every student. I don’t like to discipline on the first day, but if he doesn’t quiet down tomorrow…”

  Barton’s temper rose by degrees. Not all children acted out because they were bad. Some thought they had good reasons and were just ill-informed. “Give him a chance. He’s probably new to the school. They don’t always have the same rules as we do in the small country schools.”

  Frank sat down in the room’s padded rocker. “I’m sure he’ll be fine by tomorrow. I don’t want to have to do anything. Perhaps a tour around the grounds would be a good way to get rid of the useless energy.”

  “I like useless energy.”

  “You’re not dealing with eight-year-olds.”

  Barton had to concede that point, but children were not what he needed to discuss. “I have a question for you. Is Professor Cook against his assistants talking to the students? Twice today he took me to task for talking – when he wasn’t teaching.” He moved some papers around on his desk so Frank wouldn’t look too far into the question. No one but Lula need ever find out his true purpose for being there, and only Lula after he was sure she was his.

  Frank sat forward. “Hmmm. I don’t know that I had that trouble, but I didn’t really wish to speak to the students. They were younger than me and none of them intended to stay here, so making their acquaintance would’ve been strange. Not to mention that as the assistant, you have to grade their papers. It wouldn’t do for you to play favorites in any way. It might even force the professor to fail the student.”

  Barton couldn’t let that happen. He’d hurt Lula enough. If he ruined her chances of being a teacher, or got her expelled where he would lose her, she’d never forgive him – and he’d never forgive himself. “But has that ever happened? Surely assistants and students talk? They’re only a year apart in most cases – in my case, not even that.”

  Frank frowned. “You’ll have to throw off those friendships or risk their futures, and yours. You’re only an assistant – if they find you getting too friendly with a student, it wouldn’t be hard to assume that you were helping them. Don’t do it.”

  Barton turned away and scribbled on a paper, just to look like he was doing something. Was there a way to make sure Professor Cook graded Lula’s papers so that even if Barton’s intentions were discovered, it would be he that was taken to task and not her? Every scheme he’d had involving her before had been to make sure she was caught and not him, now he had to ensure the opposite.

  Frank stood and laid a hand on his shoulder. “They might be lenient if at least you stay away from the women. Don’t even look at them. Once you’re out in the world and teaching at a school, you’re allowed to dally, even marry, which is more than school boards allow women teachers. But not here. Be thankful you’re a man. Teaching needs to be the only thing you think about. Professor Cook would rather you be so engrossed in the work he gives you that you forget to eat, than for you to find extra time to talk.”

  Bart
on tapped his pencil on the desk loudly, hoping to stop Frank’s words. He didn’t want to hear any more. How could he possibly show Lula he’d changed if he couldn’t speak to her, couldn’t be seen with her? It was hopeless. Had he done all the work of becoming a teacher for nothing. But if he’d come back as just as student, she would never speak to him at all. He’d needed to be the assistant just so that she had to give him a chance. There would’ve been no hope otherwise.

  “I guess if Professor Cook didn’t speak to you or discipline you, maybe he no longer feels that way,” Frank added. “But it’s only been eight years since I was in his class, and he made it quite clear then.”

  If Barton had to keep Lula a secret, he’d just have to get her off the school grounds and make sure no one saw them coming or going together. He’d managed for the last two years to do anything he pleased right under the teacher’s nose and not get caught. Now he needed that luck to be with him for one more year.

  Chapter 5

  Lula sat in front of the mirror in her room. Should she wear her hair up because of Barton, or down like she wanted to? The question stalled her hands holding her brush with her hair up. She preferred it down, but…

  Izzy came up behind her and took the brush from her hands, gently working the knots from the back of her head. “I can see why you always wore it up – even besides Barton, it’s so curly it must get snarled easily. Want me to do it for you?”

  Lula reached back and reclaimed the brush. “Thank you, no. I think I might try leaving it down today.”

  “You tried that yesterday and it bothered you so badly you missed lunch. That’s just not healthy to do every day.”

  Neither was living her life in fear of what one man might do. “I didn’t miss lunch because I thought my hair would snarl. I left because I was worried Barton would go after me. He tugged my hair the very first thing when he came in yesterday.”

  Izzy sat on the end of her bed and cocked her head. “Well, isn’t that a strange thing for a teacher to do, especially one who antagonized you so.”

  “So it seems. That’s why I put my hair up, to remove the temptation for him to tease me further.” It hadn’t worked. Her heart raced even now at his words: I will show you the man I am, honorable and true. You can either keep running away or fall into my arms. Had he just found a different way to tease her? Or was he no longer teasing?

  “And you changed your skirt. You really think he’d risk his internship to antagonize you? I don’t think he would. Despite how he’s always treated you, he was a good student in primary…for a boy. And they only give internships to very capable students – he’d be a fool to risk it.”

  But he was risking it, wasn’t he? He’d already staked his claim to her time, saying he’d show her what kind of a man he was. Maybe she’d completely misunderstood and he’d meant as a teacher, but the way he’d leaned in and lowered his voice had given the impression he had something much more personal in mind. If he did, he was as big a fool as she’d always thought.

  “Either way you decide, you’d best hurry. We don’t want to be late.” Izzy turned to her trunk at the foot of her bed. “Frankly, I’m not fond of us all looking the same all the time. I liked the first day where we wore our best clothes. Now, we’re all stuck wearing the same black skirts and white blouses. No color. What’s wrong with a lavender walking suit?”

  “Well …” Lula tried to tell her how easy it was to blend in when they all looked alike.

  “Nothing, that’s what.” Izzy interrupted. “Some schools even tell you how many petticoats you must wear. It’s ridiculous. I think they want us to all be boring before we ever see a classroom as a teacher. I’m surprised they don’t tell us how often to bathe.” Izzy raked her brush through her hair.

  Lula wished she had Izzy’s fire. When she’d first come to Spearfish Normal, she’d had the same mischievous streak as Izzy, but it had died quickly as she’d tried to become invisible. It hadn’t worked. Nothing had helped her evade the boy that had plagued her. “You may be more than Professor Cook is bargaining for, Izzy. What will you do for the essay he assigned? I know you have your own theories on teaching, and they aren’t what he sounded like he wanted to hear.”

  Izzy braided her hair and wrapped it into a sturdy knot at her nape. She arched her neck perfectly and placed a book on her head, taking even steps across the room. “Just like any good student can do for me, I am capable of reciting what the teacher wants to hear.” She let the book fall and caught it. “But you’re right, I do have my own mind. When I have my own class, I’ll put those things into practice. But Professor Cook doesn’t need to know that.”

  Lula felt the emptiness in her heart grow. While other girls had visions of standing in front of a class, she’d lost that. She still wanted to teach more than anything, but the excitement was gone. “I wish I could be there to see it. It’s almost a shame they don’t let teachers work together. It would make teaching so much easier.”

  She twisted her curls around her fingers to tighten them, since she didn’t have time to heat an iron. Despite what Izzy had said, she wanted to look good, better than any of the others in the room. She wasn’t ready to accept Barton’s direct attention, but the warmth of his regard felt good Her sisters Ruby, Jennie, Hattie, Eva and Frances had all married. When they got together, they spoke of sweet feelings, stolen kisses when no one was looking, and strong arms that held them all night.

  Barton has strong arms…Lula clenched her eyes shut and banished the thought. It was only his talk yesterday that had her thinking such strange things. That had to be his new game. He would try to confuse her emotions, then laugh at her. There had to be some way he was trying to embarrass or hurt her – he couldn’t have changed that much.

  She stood and went to her own chest at the end of her bed. As Izzy had said, everyone would now be wearing dark skirts with white blouses. Anyone who wanted to stand out a little could wear a tie, but most wouldn’t. The women in the Normal School courses all just wanted to graduate and avoid trouble. Going outside what was expected could be disastrous. She slipped her own dark skirt over her head and fastened it shut, swishing it so it fell properly with her petticoats. “Izzy, I do think it’s time for class.”

  Izzy grinned impishly. “I think it’s time to go see the teacher’s assistant.”

  “You’re not funny,” Lula grumbled as they headed out.

  Only a fool would continue, Barton kept telling himself. He’d been a fool to waste his whole summer doing training he didn’t care about, and now he was a fool to try to see Lula when it could destroy everything he’d done so far. But hadn’t he convinced Pa to let him come and do this, to make it right? Didn’t he owe it to Pa and himself to try? If that made him a fool, he’d accept the title.

  Lula was worth it. But he had to keep his place long enough to convince her to give him a chance and make sure she didn’t lose her place. If she did, all would be lost. A man might be forgiven a little indiscretion, but a woman wouldn’t. Her career would be over, and it would be all his fault. He’d done enough destruction where she was concerned.

  The campus was already buzzing with older students heading for breakfast, class or some quiet study time. The primary students were kept separate from the adult students. Barton carried a stack of papers fresh from the new mimeograph machine, staying away from the other students walking the paths. If he got to class early, got everything perfectly ready for Professor Cook and generally kept busy, the professor would have no time to look deeper into his interest in Lula. Though to be safe, he wouldn’t approach her in class anymore.

  The clock struck the half-hour at 7:30 as he entered the dark classroom. The thick white pull shades kept the sun and afternoon heat out but needed to be opened in the morning for light. He made quick work of them, then stacked the papers on the professor’s desk, arranged the desks and chairs in perfect order and began writing that day’s notes on the board.

  So far, learning to teach had been little more th
an following the professor’s orders, but after the Christmas holiday the teaching would be on his shoulders. A syllabus was available for him to use, but he’d have to create his own lectures from it and his own homework. He’d also have to grade all the papers, as if he really were the teacher.

  He held his breath and looked at the clock again. She’d be arriving any minute. Lula was always punctual and kind – when someone didn’t push her too far. If only he could sense that line in his mind. He’d crossed it too many times.

  Her words cut through the years as if he were still the boy standing behind the school with buttery fingers: I’ll hate you ‘til the day you die, Barton Oleson! Could he overcome two years of bad behavior? He’d roped cows, busted horses and raised Cain with his brothers, but atoning for the hurt he’d done to Lula was harder toil than any other chore he’d had. And much more depended on it.

  A few other students came in and he nodded to them in welcome. Most didn’t pay him much mind and that was fine. He wasn’t there to make friends with any of them … except one.

  One female student batted her lashes at him, and he chuckled to himself. She might not last long – she was only a year away from the age of their oldest students. Soon she’d have to decide which was more important, continuing her education or looking for a mate. The current theories on teaching didn’t allow for married women to teach unless they worked with their husbands. A few schools were breaking with that tradition, but only a few.

  7:58. Lula only had two minutes to make it in and get seated or they’d be counted as late. He couldn’t lie to cover for her. He made checkmarks by two more students’ names in the attendance log as they walked in. Where was she? Had she abandoned the school because he’d been so plain about his intentions? Could she have run when he wanted her to stay? His pulse quickened, and his finger itched to mark her as present.