by Kari Trumbo
He summoned what resolved he could and took a step back, afraid of scaring her off further. “I won’t try to tempt you away from anything. I… I give you my word. And I would like to call you my friend. I find being the teacher is much lonelier than I originally imagined.”
“I’m so sorry. I never imagined you as lonely.” Her eyes softened and she drew closer. His heart leapt with the idea that she pictured him at all.
“All of my actions these past years have been those of a lonely boy.” That was more honest than he’d planned to be. As the assistant professor, he was too young to associate with Professor Cook, and though he was the same age as everyone in the class, he was forbidden from fraternizing. Frank had a whole separate life as a teacher and was almost ten years older besides. His life at home was social, with the hands, his brothers and parents, and there were frequent celebrations. Even his popularity at school hadn’t filled that need.
He didn’t want her pity, though, he wanted her love. The muffled rush of water behind him was a helpful distraction. “Let’s go take a look at those falls.” He ducked under the nearby low branches and soon came out on the other side near the river. Mossy limestone walls towered above them and birds called from high branches. A man could get used to surrounding himself with God’s creation, both the river and the woman following him.
Lula caught up and gasped, then went around him and held her hand out to feel the spray of the falls. “It’s so beautiful.”
It didn’t hold a candle to Lula, though. The wonder in her eyes took his breath away. “I hear tell that a guy climbed up those falls like some Roman conqueror, then got stuck. He had to tiptoe back down or risk falling in front of his lady friend.”
Lula chuckled. “Who would do such a thing? That rock is wet and covered in moss. It must be dreadfully slippery.”
“Oh, it is.” He couldn’t help but laugh at Frank’s story. He’d brought a girl to the falls with the intention of sneaking a kiss or two, tried a little too hard to be a man and scared her half witless. He never did get that kiss, but he’s married to her now. Men will do crazy things to try and impress a girl they’re sweet on.”
She giggled, but also frowned. “Like slathering butter on their head?”
He had to force himself to nod at the reminder. “That would be one particular example, yes. And again, I’m sorry for that.”
She paused and he wondered if this time, unlike the last, if she would accept his apology. That would make the trip worth it, even if she never went with him again. “I forgive you. But doing something crazy like climbing the falls wouldn’t be a good way to end our outing. You can’t exactly talk to me if they’re carting you down the hill gashed to bits because you cracked open your skull.”
Barton chuckled and relaxed. Talking to Lula was just as pleasant as he’d thought it would be. “I’m sure I’d still manage to say too much. I always seem to.” Funny, but admitting to his failings did make him feel better. Maybe confession really was good for the soul.
And it seemed to improve her mood as well. “You told me you’d tell me why you pestered me so terribly.” She turned and stared at the falls, her back straight. “Is that why? You were trying to impress me?”
“It’s … part of it. But I suppose it doesn’t matter now.” Not if she wanted to be a teacher more than she wanted him. If he had to let her go, there was no point in rehashing old hurts. His didn’t compare to hers anyway. She would think his minor anguish of being labeled a troublemaker for something he didn’t do inconsequential after he’d made so sure he was a troublemaker after the fact.
She huffed. “It matters to me. It did ruin two years of my life. And you still talk to me of your plans - and yank me behind bushes as if my feelings don’t matter. I’m willing to forgive you and keep forgiving you. But I’d like to have fewer reasons I have to.”
That made him shiver. She might give him grace for all his past offenses, but would she forgive his biggest and most recent, the whole reason he was currently in school? Nothing else he’d done even mattered in light of that. If she truly wanted nothing to do with him, better that she think of him the way he was before. Better that she hate him than wonder what he’d been up to, that he’d prayed she would think more of him than her dream. She wanted everything; answers, truth, kindness, no relationship beyond friendship. What reason did he have to continue? Nothing, from what he could see.
No matter how good he became, it had already cost him. She would not see his change. She’d asked him not to sway her as he’d planned and worked for. And he’d given his word.
If he’d already lost his greatest treasure, was there really any point in being there with her? Better that he scare her off and never see her again, because he couldn’t see her daily and not regret everything he’d ever done.
His anger burned his chest as the loss ate away at him. He desired her, not just her forgiveness. “If there is nothing beyond today, why does it matter?” he snapped, remembering that first day and how innocent his desire had been then. He’d only wanted to touch one soft curl.
Lula took two steps back in shock, slipped, landed on her rear and slid halfway down the bank to the water, landing with a splash in the shallow river.
Something evil rose up in Barton at seeing her in peril, however minor. She wanted to follow her dreams alone? Well, she could just go and do that. He turned away and strode off back up the path, leaving her to fend for herself.
Chapter 11
Lula grumbled lifting and swishing her skirts until she made it back up the bank of the rocks she’d slid down. The river was cut deep, though the water was shallow, so climbing back up in a skirt was harder than it had looked from above. Mercifully she wasn’t bleeding. She’d been sure she finally had answers about Barton that would help her move on. Well, she supposed she did. He was just the boy he’d claimed he wasn’t anymore – selfish, mean, and leaving her to figure out how to get home on her own.
The joke was on her. She’d believed him. He’d waltzed into class on that first day in fall with a debonair smile and a gentleman’s attitude, and he’d convinced her his heart had changed. Even when her mind told her to stop, to be cautious, she’d ignored it. Now he was gone, the sound of Star’s hooves long faded. She returned to the clearing and found herself stuck with Clover and no way to mount. There wasn’t a fence she could climb or even a branch low enough to use. Not that her wet skirts would make mounting easy even if she could.
And drat saddles for women – they were built to make women dependent on men. Well, never again. She wouldn’t trust Barton or any other man she didn’t have to. That had been part of her goal in becoming a teacher – to never need a man. Her father – not Beau, but her real father – had claimed girls were worthless creatures. It was one of the few memories she had of him. But she wasn’t worthless. She’d prove him wrong. Lula Arnsby could take care of herself.
On top of all else, Barton had retied Clover’s reins in an infernally tight knot, and she stood there for far longer than she wanted trying to undo it with her skirts clinging to her legs. Didn’t the man know it only needed to be looped if the horse was broke well? Of course, he did. He was just showing his true, black-hearted colors yet again. Hadn’t she learned anything after over two years? Her hands shook with her anger, making the task all the more difficult.
A few drips fell from above, then more. Soon a downpour drenched her to the skin, leaving her white blouse clinging to her torso. She was suddenly thankful for all the other layers she wore. Clover didn’t seem to be bothered in the slightest by the weather, but without the sun, the late September air chilled her to the bone. Thankfully the downpour was short, and she managed to get poor Clover untied.
But mounting up still wasn’t an option. “Well, girl, I guess we get to walk down the hill. Not that you ever wanted to do much more than walk anyway. I hope it isn’t far – it felt like such a short ride up here.” Would she make it back by supper time? It wasn’t like Barton hadn’t mad
e her miss other meals.
That brought other questions to mind. If Barton showed his face in the cafeteria, should she give him a nice loud piece of her mind, hopefully loud enough for Professor Cook to hear? That might get Barton expelled. But then, she’d be expelled too, for meeting him in private. And forcing a confrontation with him had never worked in the past – why would it work now? No, he’d won yet again.
What could have possibly gone so wrong? She’d only asked him to tell her what he’d already promised to. They were both at Spearfish Normal to be teachers, so nothing else she’d said should’ve shocked him. Oh, how he’d played her emotions, telling her he was lonely. And she’d fallen for it. All she wanted to do was be a teacher, live her own life – why couldn’t anyone respect that? Why couldn’t he just leave her be, instead of twisting her heart to pieces?
Perhaps it would be better for her to transfer out of Spearfish. It was the closest school to home, and the best in the area, but at another school she could start fresh, without Barton Oleson dogging her steps. On the other hand, why should she walk away because of him? He’d been a beast, but she’d never given up before. She could show him just how strong an Arnsby girl could be.
The trail was steeper than she’d remembered and walking down in half-boots with heavy wet skirts twining around her legs was hard, but she finally made it to the main road that led back to Spearfish. Would he be there at the livery, waiting to laugh at her? Her skirt was a filthy ruin from her muddy hems all the way up to the handprints where she’d wiped them after a few falls. Her cheeks and face felt grubby and her hair hung in limp, damp tendrils down her cheeks and neck. The heat of shame wasn’t even enough to warm her. He’d embarrassed her for the last time.
A handsome young liveryman came running toward her as she arrived. “Miss, miss! Are you all right? When Mr. Oleson came back alone, we worried.” He took the reins. “I’m glad you made it back fine. I’ll get Clover back in her stall – it’ll be a dollar for her rental.”
She limped toward the bench in front of the livery, then realized the last statement was directed to her. “He didn’t pay for Clover?” She turned to look him in the eye and make sure she’d heard properly. “He abandoned me at the falls and didn’t even pay for the horse?” Fury made her voice climb to a high squeak.
The boy, eyes wide, backed away from her like she might whip him with her riding crop. “N-no, miss. He said you were an independent woman who wanted to do for yourself and that you’d chafe at the collar if he paid for you. I, um, that is to say…”
“I don’t have any means to pay for it” One more cruel trick Barton had played on her, just like all the others. “I was under the impression he was renting her for me. What can I do to earn the rental?” She knew how to clean horse stalls and couldn’t possibly get much dirtier than she already was. She heard the defeat in her own voice and prayed someone would take pity on her.
“I wish I could just take it out of my pay, but honest, miss, I don’t make that much.”
Which meant that she wouldn’t make much either. She had about forty cents sewn into the bottom hems of her skirts to keep them from swirling in a wind, but that wasn’t enough. And her wet stays, meant for school not riding, were rubbing welts under her arms, so the amount of labor she could manage would be limited.
The boy ducked his head. “I’ll ask the boss about it.” He left like a wolf was chasing him.
She sat on the bench, wiping her forehead with her arm. It felt like coarse sandpaper due to all the mud. Did it matter now if she looked ladylike? She might be about to get up to her ankles in horse mess. The hem tore easily, and she collected the coins within, counting each one as she came to the little pocket she’d sewn for each. There was more than she’d thought, with ten nickels stored evenly spaced around her skirt.
As she stood, the overly long fabric now dragged on the ground. An older man approached her, a pipe hanging from the side of his mouth. “You the lady who can’t pay?”
“No – I am the lady who was abandoned at Bridal Veil Falls, only to return and find I’d been stuck with a bill I thought my…companion had already paid.” She was too furious now to be diplomatic.
The man was a head taller than her and probably double her weight, but he still backed up a step. “Uh, that so?”
“It is. I have a total of a half dollar here – what can I do to pay the remainder?” She reached out and dumped the coins in his hands.
The man chewed on his pipe for a moment. “You was riding with Mr. Oleson, wasn’t you?”
“Yes, sir.” She blew a stray clump of damp hair from her eyes. Never again would Barton catch her alone.
“Hm. Well, I gots two daughters, and I wouldn’t want some man doing this to them. You don’t owe me nothing – I’ll add it to his next bill for boarding his horse here. No man oughta be leaving womenfolk out on your lonesome. Cryin’ shame. You need a ride anywheres? I can have Wally take you where you need to.”
He rocked back on his feet. “If you be feelin’ like you need to make up the rest. I gots a bank book inside that needs updatin’.”
Lula’s jaw went slack momentarily– for once, someone was taking her side instead of Barton’s. “Yes. I will. I will pay my own way. Thank you for offering.” She expected the offer to do the work on her own would cool her anger – anger that crashed in waves from her head to her shaking hands – but it didn’t. She’d get Barton Oleson, and he’d regret ever speaking to her.
Barton raked his hands through his hair. He’d let his anger get the better of him. It didn’t take deep thoughts to picture Ma’s disapproving eyes if she knew, and Pa would call him worse than a road apple and dirtier than a snake belly. How could he be such a cad and leave her behind? And leaving her to pay for her horse besides? Lula was right for thinking he hadn’t and couldn’t possibly change. He felt it all the way down to his boots. The more he thought, the angrier he became at himself. If any other man had done to her what he had, he’d pound them.
He’d so much wanted Lula Arnsby to think about him – well, she’d sure be thinking about him now. Probably the only thing keeping her from turning him in and sending him home was that they’d throw her out too. He’d told her he’d accept full blame if she did, but that wouldn’t carry any weight with the administration.
He looked at the desk in his room and considered it. The right thing to do would be to write her a note telling her he was sorry for his behavior, then talk to Professor Cook and withdraw as his assistant – without mentioning Lula. He could imply it was a girl in town he’d been with or something. It was obvious he couldn’t be trusted around Lula. Good thing he’d realized it before he’d pulled them deeper into something neither of them would be happy in. How could she ever trust him when he couldn’t trust himself…?
How could he have been so selfish yet again? He’d had grand plans of convincing Lula she was the most amazing woman in the world, that she deserved everything he could do for her and more. She would be adored by him and his whole family. But she didn’t want that, and especially not him.
“Barton! Where have you been?” Frank rushed in, frantic.
Barton’s shoulders slumped. He couldn’t confess it – maybe after he wrote Lula and talked to the Professor, but not now.
“Never mind that,” Frank went on. “Cook fell off a ladder while painting his house. He can’t teach for weeks. You’ve got one weekend to prepare for the rest of the year. Congratulations, you’re the acting teaching professor!”
Barton couldn’t breathe, couldn’t swallow. And now, he suddenly realized, he couldn’t even do the right thing and walk away. He was caught like a rat in a trap – and poor Lula with him.
Chapter 12
Two days later, Barton stood in front of the empty classroom trying to remember every point of the lecture Professor Cook had given him for that day. He’d spent the rest of Saturday and most of Sunday doing his best to memorize it – there had been no rest on his Sabbath. He also had to d
o all the duties of an assistant, since he didn’t have one. His morning had been full, cranking the mimeograph machine and making sure the room was prepared.
Worst of all, he’d be required to stand in front of Lula Arnsby the whole day, five days a week, forcing himself to not stare at her and wallowing in well-earned guilt. Reminding himself what he had to do, which was anything but talk to her. She didn’t want him to. Hadn’t ever wanted him to, really. His fool head sure hadn’t listened. He’d hoped to show her the kind of man he thought he was, to make her want to live her life with him. Instead, he hadn’t wanted to uselessly dredge up the past and she’d shoved him away for it.
But why had she even agreed to come riding if she didn’t want to actually spend time with him? Well, she was trying to forgive him – maybe that was why. But he’d been a fool to think she’d allow him into her life if she had to give up teaching, that one year of effort could make up for two years of bad behavior. He hadn’t even made it through one month without proving he hadn’t changed enough.
The scent of rose petals washed over him and a muffled gasp told him, without turning, that Lula had arrived, early as usual. Briefly he wondered how she’d explained her absence to Izzy. There’d been a short downpour just as he made it back to Spearfish – had she gotten soaked by it? That would prove even harder to explain. Whispers behind him told him Izzy was with Lula, also as usual. The prickles up his arms hinted that Lula was staring at him, making it difficult to concentrate on the points he was writing on the board.
