Frontier Engagement

by Regina Scott

  “How many students now?” she asked, heart starting to pound hard again with hope.

  “Just a few,” he admitted, “but more and more folks are settling out our way. The school will only grow.”

  Just like her dreams. This was exactly the sort of situation she’d promised herself when she’d left Framingham. She’d find some place she could make something good out of the tatters of her life, where she could make a difference.

  “They’re a lovely family,” Maddie put in. “Sure-n you won’t be sorry to help them. I’d be happy to take the position, only I’ve no experience, and I wouldn’t want all the children to learn to speak like me.”

  James Wallin spread his hands. “And what would be wrong with the way you’re a-speaking, me darling girl?”

  She laughed at the way he’d mimicked her brogue. “You’ve just proven my point.”

  How easily they chatted. She wanted a life like that. Somewhere there must be people who would laugh with her, talk to her as if she was one of them, families she could help, young minds she could challenge to think.

  You give beauty for ashes and joy for mourning, Lord. Help me to see this as an opportunity.

  But try as she might, doubts circled her like ravens. What if the Wallins didn’t like her? What if she didn’t like them? What if they saw right through her to the scared little mouse inside?

  What if he wasn’t telling the truth?

  She drew in a breath. A good offer had two sides. Mr. Wallin had stated his requirements. She had every right to state her own.

  “I would prefer to visit the school first,” she informed him. “I expect to be interviewed properly and hired by those who will have children in the school.”

  He nodded. “Anything you want.”

  Anything? That she could not believe. “And if I decide that the position and I do not suit, you will return me to Seattle immediately.”

  He spread his hands even as his smile widened. “If you decide you don’t want the best schoolhouse and most dedicated students in the territory, ma’am, I’ll personally escort you wherever you want to go, at my own expense. That’s a promise.”

  He said it so firmly, as if he expected her to take him at his word. And she realized if she truly wanted this position, her only choice was to do just that.

  At least for the moment.

  She held out her hand. “Very well, Mr. Wallin. I will go with you.”

  * * *

  She’d agreed to come, if only to look at the place. James wasn’t sure why he was so relieved when Miss Fosgrave gave him her hand in pledge. Yet one look at that solemn face, and he wanted to dance around his team and crow for joy.

  Which would likely have frightened both his team and Miss Fosgrave.

  So, he merely clasped her hand and gave it a shake. “Thank you, ma’am. I’ll wait while you pack.”

  She pulled away quickly, as she’d done the other times he’d touched her hand, which was a shame. She had soft, warm skin and a gentle grip that felt good in his.

  In fact, she was the prettiest schoolmarm it had been his privilege to know. Her figure in that soft, white dress was admirable. Her hair was a warm sunny brown, combed back from a face that could only be called sweet. The eyes gazing at him from less than six inches below his own were liberally lashed, clear and open and a whimsical color that wasn’t quite brown and wasn’t really green but made him want to lean closer.

  And presence? Oh, but she had that. She moved like a dancer he’d seen at one of Mr. Yesler’s cultural events—fluid and controlled at the same time. She spoke with an authority even the renowned Reverend Bagley would have envied. She was poised, she was polished, and she was exactly the sort of teacher they needed. And he’d managed to convince her to come to Wallin Landing.

  Even as his chest swelled with pride, she took a step back as if already regretting her decision. “Pack? Nonsense. I cannot possibly be ready on such short notice.”

  “We’ve only the things we brought with us on the ship,” Maddie pointed out. James had nearly forgotten she was there, so focused had he been on Miss Fosgrave. “It can’t take all that long to pack. I’ll lend a hand if you like.”

  “No,” she said, then quickly softened the word with “thank you. I prefer to pack my own things.”

  She certainly knew her own mind. Very likely that had been a requisite for joining the Mercer expedition. It couldn’t have been easy traveling all the way around the country and starting over. He was willing to grant her anything, so long as she came.

  James glanced at the sky, where the sun was trying to burn through the remaining clouds. “I’ve a few commissions to complete while I’m in town, but I’ll need to start back in the next hour or so to reach home before dark. Will that give you enough time?”

  “I suppose it must suffice,” she said. “I shall endeavor to be ready when you return, Mr. Wallin.” She inclined her head and turned to precede them through the door with ladylike tread.

  Maddie, who had been watching Miss Fosgrave, shook her head. “Sure-n she has finer manners than the queen of England. But sometimes, if you catch her unawares, she’ll be having the saddest look in her eyes. Someone’s hurt her, that’s certain sure.” She shook a finger at James. “Don’t you be going and adding to her troubles.”

  James held up his hands. “Me? I wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

  “A fly, maybe,” Maddie acknowledged. “But I’m thinking you’ve broken a few hearts in your time.”

  “Not intentionally,” he assured her, lowering his hands. “I’ve never promised undying devotion to any woman.”

  “Yet,” Maddie said with her usual twinkle.

  “Ever,” James corrected her. “Life can change in a heartbeat, Maddie. Best not to take it too seriously.”

  “So you say,” Maddie replied, heading for the door. “But I say you’ll be changing your tune for the right woman, James Wallin.”

  James shook his head as she left. He’d liked Maddie from the first moment he’d met her at Catherine’s marriage to his oldest brother Drew. The feisty redhead generally gave as good as she got. Like him, she’d laughed off Catherine and Drew’s threat to match them all up with sweethearts.

  Oh, he knew most men reached a point in their lives where marriage seemed the best course. But those men hadn’t watched their father die. He’d seen the light fade from Pa’s eyes, and then he’d seen the pain flare in Ma’s when Drew had delivered the news. And he’d known it was all his fault.

  That was why he’d jumped at the chance to do his family a service when Catherine had entrusted him with this commission. His sister-in-law had been firm in her expectations.

  “The women of the Mercer expedition are a determined lot,” the lovely blonde had explained over coffee that morning at the main house of Wallin Landing, the forested area to the north end of Lake Union where James’s family had staked their claims. “Many of them have already secured positions, and the remaining ones may balk at settling so far out.”

  “Fear not, fair maiden,” James had assured her. “I will overcome every objection.”

  Catherine’s cool blue eyes could look remarkably warm when she was set on a goal. “See that you do and that you don’t raise any reason to object in the first place. We must have a schoolteacher if we’re to achieve your father’s dream.”

  James had nodded. Ever since marrying Drew a month ago, Catherine had been obsessed with honoring Pa’s dream of building his own town along the lakeshore. James wasn’t sure why she was so determined. She had never met Pa; he’d been dead more than ten years now.

  His father’s accident—felled by a widow-maker from a tree they were clearing—had affected everyone in the family. James was fairly sure Drew’s overprotective nature stemmed from the fact that Pa had entrusted the family to his care. And sometimes he
wondered whether the cool detachment of his next oldest brother, Simon, wasn’t a result of watching Pa die. He was glad neither had berated him for his role in the tragedy. He’d been only fourteen at the time, and it had been his job to look out for potential problems. He hadn’t noticed the loose branch then, but he could see problems aplenty with the town they were trying to build.

  Catherine, Drew and Simon knew the challenge, but they were undaunted. They’d drawn up plots, laying out the streets and placing key buildings. Drew had wanted to construct a hospital first because many people needed Catherine’s skills as a nurse, but she’d insisted that the school was more important.

  “A hospital tends their bodies for the moment,” she’d said. “A school tends their minds for the future.”

  None of them could argue with that. Even now his family, including his younger brothers John and Levi, were back putting the finishing touches on a schoolhouse and attached room for the teacher.

  And it was James’s job to convince a teacher to fill it.

  He took that commission as seriously as Miss Fosgrave apparently took her profession. This was his chance to make a difference in the family. Nothing would bring Pa back, but building the town he’d always dreamed of was the next best thing. And it had been a long time since his family has asked him to undertake something so important.

  So, James had done all he could to make a good impression on the schoolteacher. He’d dressed in his best suit, tailored by a fellow from San Francisco no less. He’d shaved and washed his hair with the lavender-scented soap his sister Beth enthused about, making his hair look almost gold. More than one lady had glanced his way as he’d driven first to the territorial university to consult with Asa Mercer, its president, and then to the boardinghouse.

  But who would have thought his horses would be the thing to convince Miss Fosgrave to take a chance on him? He’d seen the way she’d looked at the team, as if they were somehow an answer to a prayer.

  “Always said you boys were the finest animals in the territory,” he told them as they turned the corner for the merchant his mother favored. The flick of their ears and the height of their steps told him they agreed.

  But as he finished his commissions in town—picking up a paper of needles for Ma and a new sketchpad for Beth, checking at the post office for any mail—he felt unaccountably fidgety. Did he doubt the outcome of his task? He might not have Drew’s brawn, Simon’s brain, John’s knowledge or Levi’s determination, but he knew how to turn a phrase to his will.

  That’s one skill You gave me, Lord. The least I can do is to put it to good use. You’ve given me a chance to atone. I won’t let You down.

  He took a deep breath as he guided the horses back toward the boardinghouse. Miss Fosgrave might have reservations about the position, but he had none about her. Her presence was her best quality. It would win the day at the school Catherine had planned. So, like it or not, that schoolmarm had an engagement with the frontier.

  She just didn’t know it yet.

  Chapter Two

  She was waiting on the porch with several other ladies when James drew the horses to a stop in front of the boardinghouse. Despite the fact that she had said she would only come to visit, standing beside her was a trunk that would all but fill the bed of his wagon. James tried not to cringe.

  She’d also changed clothes for the journey. This gown was purple, the bodice fitted to her form, with bands of white satin sculpting the collar, shoulders and waist. Triple bands of the stuff followed the curves of her wide skirts. A straw bonnet with velvet ribbons covered her shiny curls. How could his family possibly find fault?

  Determined to match her formality, he wiped the smile from his face, stepped down from the bench and marched up the walk. Stopping at the edge of the porch, he tipped his hat.

  “Ladies.”

  She stepped forward. “Mr. Wallin. Shall we?”

  The others were watching her so solemnly he might have been Death come to take her on her final journey. He offered his arm. “It would be my pleasure, Miss Fosgrave.”

  He thought he heard a sigh of envy from one of the other ladies.

  If Miss Fosgrave heard it, she gave no indication. She merely accepted his arm, her touch light and sure. James walked her to the wagon as if escorting her to a dance. He couldn’t deny there was something fine about strolling beside a lady in all her glory. His brothers might tease him unmercifully about his liking for fine clothing, calling him a dandy and far too citified, but he’d always appreciated the sheen of satin, the brush of fine wool. Women weren’t the only ones who sometimes had a hankering to look good.

  But looking good came at a price on the frontier, and he spied the problem with Miss Fosgrave’s pretty gown the moment they reached the wagon. She couldn’t possibly climb up onto the bench in those skirts. When she paused with a frown as if realizing the issue, he bent and scooped her up in his arms.

  Her eyes, now on a level with his, were as clear as spring water. They widened as she cried, “Really, Mr. Wallin! What are you doing?”

  “Just my duty, ma’am,” he promised, setting her up into the bench.

  Face turning pink, she arranged her skirts around her. “A little warning would have been preferable.”

  He leaned against the wagon and grinned up at her. “Very well. I promise to warn you the next time I feel an urge to take you up in my arms.”

  The blush deepened, and she faced forward rather than look at him. “A warning that will end any such thoughts, I trust. Now, if you’d be so good as to fetch my trunk.”

  “Please?” he suggested.

  Her mouth tightened. “Please.”

  James pushed off from the wagon and swept her a bow. “At once, your royal highness.”

  Her look speared back to him. “Don’t call me that. Don’t ever call me that.”

  Why had he thought her eyes as cool and refreshing as clean water? Now they positively boiled with emotions. What had he done to earn her wrath?

  James kept his own face still, determined not to give her any reason to change her mind. “Forgive me, ma’am. I meant no offense. Wait here, and I’ll get your things.”

  As he ventured back to the house, he shook his head. Why had she reacted that way to a simple tease? Did she think he was laughing at her expense? Nothing could be further from the truth. He’d only been trying to make her smile. It was obvious he’d have to work much harder to stay in her good graces. He nodded to the ladies still watching from the porch and put his hand to the trunk.

  One tug, and he nearly groaned aloud. What had she packed—enough bricks to build a house? With the other ladies standing there, and her waiting on the bench, he wasn’t about to admit it was too heavy. He seized the leather handle at either end and heaved it up into his arms. One of the ladies gave an “ooo” of appreciation at his demonstration of strength. It was all he could do not to stagger down the walk.

  Miss Fosgrave didn’t so much as look his way as he brought the trunk and shoved it into the bed of the wagon. Sweat trickled down his cheek as he made his way to the front once more.

  “All set,” he said, knowing a longer statement would likely come out breathless. He took up the reins and climbed onto the bench.

  “Good luck, Alexandrina!” one of the women called, and they all waved or fluttered handkerchiefs as if she were taking off on a grand journey.

  He could only hope the end of the trip would be more auspicious than the beginning and his family would find her as perfect as James did.

  * * *

  Alexandrina sat beside James Wallin, heartbeat slowly returning to normal. She hadn’t expected such a reaction, but then she’d never been held like that before. None of the men who had showed interest in her would have dared put an arm about her for fear of offending her family. One did not mistreat Princess Alexandr
ina Eugenia Fosgrave of Battenburgia.

  “Though of course we do not use our titles here,” Mr. Fosgrave would always confide to the rapt listener in a hushed tone. “Our enemies are everywhere. But when we have been returned to our kingdom, you will be well rewarded for your kindness.”

  It had been a potent promise, recalling days of pomp and circumstance that made the average American surprisingly sentimental. So everyone had treated her with kindness, deference, humility. Until the truth had come out. And there had been nothing kind in it.

  “Alexandrina,” James said, guiding his magnificent horses up a muddy, rutted trail that hardly did them justice. “That’s an unusual name. Does it run in your family?”

  She couldn’t tell him the fiction she’d grown up hearing, that it had been her great-grandmother’s name. “I don’t believe so. I’m not overly fond of it.”

  He nodded as if he accepted that. “Then why not shorten it? You could go by Alex.”

  She sniffed, ducking away from an encroaching branch on one of the towering firs that grew everywhere around Seattle. “Certainly not. Alex is far too masculine.”

  The branch swept his shoulder, sending a fresh shower of drops to darken the brown wool. “Ann, then.”

  She shook her head. “Too simple.”

  “Rina?” He glanced her way and smiled.

  Yes, he definitely knew the power of that smile. She could learn to love it. No, no, not love it. She was not here to fall in love but to teach impressionable minds. And a smile did not make the man. She must look to character, convictions.

  “Rina,” she said testing the name on her tongue. She felt a smile forming. It had a nice sound to it, short, uncompromising. It fit the way she wanted to feel—certain of herself and her future. “I like it.”

  He shook his head. “And you blame me for failing to warn you. You should have warned me, ma’am.”

  Rina—yes, she was going to think of herself that way—felt her smile slipping. “Forgive me, Mr. Wallin. What have I done that would require a warning?”