Her heart soared. Did he mean it? Really mean it? Don’t be stupid, she told herself. He’s just glad to have a teacher for his precious town. Yet all the rationalizing in the world couldn’t crush the warm feeling his strong arms produced.
“So that’s what’s been going on,” an accusing voice said. “No wonder you claim-jumped me when I said I seen her first.”
Brit set Meredith Rose down but kept one hand protectively on her arm. She turned and gasped in horror, knowing who she would see. Ignatius Crane had a talent for popping up at all the wrong times, like some evil jack-in-the-box. She felt Brit tense and was astonished at his self-control when he said, “Just celebrating the fact we now have a teacher for next fall, Ignatius.”
The man’s colorless eyes gleamed with unholy glee and satisfaction. He self-righteously drew himself up into a symbol of smugness. “I doubt that. I intend to see that the board of directors and the parents of our younguns are aware of this shocking public display.” He tucked his chin under until he looked like a plucked chicken. “Like teacher, like pupils, I al-wuz say.”
Brit released Meredith Rose so suddenly she stumbled and nearly fell. In all the weeks she’d known him, never had she seen him like this. Woe to Ichabod–Ignatius! He had awakened a sleeping mountain lion.
Brit grabbed the vindictive man by his collar and lifted him off the ground. He shook him as a dog shakes a rat, then flung him down. “If you ever again say one word against Miss Macrae, I will personally see to it you leave town in a manner you will never forget. Now pick yourself up and get out of my sight before I lose my temper.”
The words before I lose my temper were Meredith Rose’s undoing. She laughed until she cried. Knowing it would make Ichabod–Ignatius hate her more than ever couldn’t stop her. It was just too funny. So was the way her former would-be suitor scuttled away after a baleful glance at the cheering crowd on both sides of the street.
“May I see you home, Miss Macrae?” Brit dusted off his hands and grinned. Every trace of anger had fled, and his amber eyes sparkled.
“Thank you.” She took the arm he offered, realizing the encounter had shattered her perspective. Was Brit seeing her for herself and not as a mere reflection of the woman he had loved and lost? Please God, let it be so, her hopeful heart pleaded.
Chapter 9
Briton Farley slid from the saddle and patted Nez Percé. He strode to the edge of his favorite promontory and hunkered down on a huge rock. “Now you’ve gone and done it,” he rebuked himself. “What got into you? Grabbing Merry Macrae in the middle of town and blurting out that you loved her?”
Nez Percé nudged him. Brit stroked the buckskin’s soft nose. “Learning she’s going to stay isn’t an excuse,” mumbled. “It’s a wonder she didn’t run screaming her head off and thinking I’m worse than Ignatius Crane!” His face scorched with shame. “I’ve never even dared call her anything to her face except Miss Macrae.” He pictured the rich black hair, the lake-blue eyes. “Merry. A lovely name for a lovely person. Will she ever give me the right to use it?” He sighed. “Her uncanny resemblance to my mother had me roped, tied, and branded the minute she stepped out of that creaking old stage.”
Memory of a long-ago conversation with his father came to mind. “God willing, there may be another lass as good and sweet as your mother…. Never marry until you find the woman God intended you to have; then don’t let anything stop you.”
Brit groaned. He had found her, but even if Meredith Rose Macrae someday learned to care for him, would her love be strong enough to overcome her distaste for Last Chance? Brit bowed his head. “Thy will be done, Lord.” It was one of the hardest prayers he’d ever offered.
A slight breeze crept across the promontory. It cooled the silent man’s heated face and stilled the tumult in his heart. If nothing but friendship ever grew between him and Meredith Rose, he would still defend her against the Ignatius Cranes of the world. He rose, vaulted into the saddle, and turned Nez Percé homeward.
Independence Day dawned bright and beautiful. Last Chance was in an uproar. It seemed everyone in town either rode horseback or were transported by wagon to what Sammy called “the pick-a-nick place.” A gap-toothed smile showed his joy was complete as he plopped down between his teacher and “Preacher Doc” in the Reilly family wagon. Marcus looked equally happy when Alice Perry climbed in and sat down beside him.
Glad she’d been wise enough to wear a riding habit and could clamber in and out of the horse-drawn, straw-filled conveyance without a loss of dignity, Meredith Rose smiled down at Sammy.
“This is a new experience for us,” she told a beaming Katie Reilly. “Marcus and I have never been on a hayride.”
“It should be a straw ride,” Sammy piped up. “Hay gets saved for the horses. This is straw.” He hollered at the tall man riding beside them. “Ain’t that right, Brit?”
“Right, Sammy.” Brit Farley chuckled. “You’re pretty smart.”
“I oughta be.” Sammy looked indignant. “I’m almost seven an’ Teacher says—” He broke off and disgustedly added, “Aw, why’d he have to come?”
Meredith Rose glanced in the direction of the stubby, pointing finger. Her anticipation seeped away. Ignatius Crane had urged a horse as sorry-looking as its owner into an awkward gait and was in danger of overtaking the wagon.
Katie made a dismayed sound but quickly said, “Now, Sammy, it’s right and proper for everyone to celebrate the Fourth of July.”
Sammy scowled. “He never did before. He prob’ly thinks he can court Teacher. He can’t.” The child squared his skinny shoulders. “Me ’n’ Brit’ll see to that. Right, Brit?”
The steady look in Briton Farley’s eyes made Meredith Rose’s heart flutter. So did his quiet, “We sure will, if she says it’s all right.”
“All right?” Sammy scrambled to his feet and glared. “ ’Course it’s all right! Teacher don’t want that long, tall drink o’ water hangin’ around her.”
Marcus Macrae burst into laughter and pulled Sammy back down. “Whoa, there. You don’t want to fall on your head.” His eyes twinkled. “Know what? I’m pretty sure my sister is glad to have such good protectors. Right, Merry?” he parroted.
Meredith Rose felt herself grow scarlet. She kept her attention on Sammy and agreed, “Right,” but Brit let out a “yippee-ki-ay” that set Nez Percé prancing. The look in Brit’s eyes brought a flood of happiness. She turned toward her twin, knowing he understood. For the first time since the harsh words she had spoken had created a wall between them, she and Marcus were again part of a whole. Meredith Rose silently resolved they must never again be separated by anger or disappointment.
The ride to the chosen site sped by much faster than the pace of the plodding horses warranted. The world around her became more beautiful to Meredith Rose than anything she had ever seen. The air sparkled with sunlight. Birds sang praises to their Creator. Squirrels scampered, and rabbits nibbled on wild clover.
Lord, she prayed, I never noticed before how wonderful it is. Do I feel this way because of Briton Farley? Suddenly all the obstacles between us no longer seem to matter. Was this Your plan, long before I asked You to change my life? I could be content here forever—if Brit loves me. Did he mean what he said that day in the street? Maybe he doesn’t just want me to stay because the children need a teacher.
She stared at the wild roses beside the road. All the costly bouquets she had received were no lovelier than the simple posies blooming where God had placed them.
The deepest peace she had ever known stole into her heart. If it were according to God’s will, a rose would one day bloom on Briton Farley’s ranch. A Meredith Rose.
A small hand tugged at her arm. “We’re here, Teacher.” Sammy grinned. “C’mon. I’m holler as a log, an’ Ma brung fried chicken.”
Meredith Rose didn’t have the heart to correct his grammar. There would be time enough for that come September and the beginning of fall term.
Hungry people mad
e a shambles of the carefully prepared picnic. Meredith Rose groaned. “I haven’t eaten this much in years.”
“You’ll work it off,” Brit promised. “It’s almost time for games.” He raised his voice. “If any of you want to see the mine, I’ll take you now.”
“We do.” Marcus leaped to his feet and helped Alice Perry up. “Who else?”
“We’re coming.” Jovial Mr. Perry and his wife chorused.
“You all go ahead.” Katie Reilly waved them off. “I’ll pass. I’ve been in the mine.” Several others murmured agreement, reducing the exploring party to less than a dozen. Ignatius Crane wore a long-suffering look but mumbled it was his duty to go. When they reached the mine shaft, Brit lighted a lantern and warned them to stay together; then he led the way inside.
To Meredith Rose’s annoyance, Crane trod so closely behind her she thought he’d step on her boots. She determined to rid herself of the leech-like man, so she allowed the others to pass her and Sammy and round a bend. The light from Brit’s lantern grew dimmer, casting feeble, flickering shadows on the craggy, timber-shored walls.
Anxious to rejoin the party, she turned to Ichabod–Ignatius and said in a tone so haughty both of her companions gaped, “Mr. Crane, if you don’t stop following me, I am going to bring charges against you.” What those charges were, she had no idea, but it sounded good. “You have pursued me from the moment we met. You will cease doing this immediately or take the consequences!”
Crane’s mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water before he threatened, “I can make you sorry fer this. I’m a just man, but I’ve stood about as much from you as I’ll take.” He laid a clammy hand on her arm, and his eyes gleamed in the semidarkness. “You think you’re gonna be our schoolmarm come September. Well, you ain’t. Not when I tell the parents and board of directors how you’ve been breakin’ the commandments God give us to live by.”
Sammy snatched the man’s hand off his teacher’s arm and blazed, “You’re loco. Teacher made us learn the Ten Commandments, and she ain’t never broke ’em.”
Crane smirked. “The second commandment tells folks plain as day we ain’t to make no graven images or likenesses of anything in heaven or earth or water under the earth.” He cackled, then sanctimoniously folded his arms. “I peeked in the winder of the schoolhouse and seen her a-drawin’ pitchers of what she said the disciples mighta looked like. We don’t want no one corruptin’ the minds of our younguns. O’ course, if you were a mite friendlier, I wouldn’t tattle on you.”
Meredith Rose did the worst possible thing. She giggled. If only Miss Grenadier could know her former art instructor was being charged with corrupting the children of Last Chance. Her high spirits crashed at Crane’s expression. Blind, unreasoning terror attacked. She grabbed Sammy’s hand and fled in the direction the others had gone. They rounded the bend. Instead of welcome lantern-light, only a faint glow brightened the way. Fear lent wings to Meredith Rose’s feet but the thud-thud of heavy boots warned they could never outrun their pursuer.
Sammy tugged her to a stop. “This way.” He pulled her into a dark passageway at the left. “We can hide ’til he goes past.”
Meredith Rose stumbled after him, hoping Crane hadn’t heard them turn.
He evidently had, for he called, “Don’t go in there. You’ll get lost.”
“Aw, he’s just talking so’s we’ll stop,” Sammy whispered. “C’mon, Teacher.”
With a prayer that Sammy knew what he was doing, Meredith Rose followed. Nothing that lay ahead could be worse than having Ichabod–Ignatius touch her again.
Chapter 10
Sure-footed as a mountain goat, Sammy Reilly led Meredith Rose Macrae away from Ignatius Crane and into the silver mine. “Don’t be scairt ’cause it’s dark,” he told her. “I’ll take care o’ you.”
“I’m sure you will.” She strained her ears. The sound of Crane’s footsteps had ceased. Never had she heard such silence than what prevailed in this velvet-black place. “Uh, Sammy.” She cleared her throat. “How will we get back?”
His skinny hand patted hers reassuringly. “Easy. Brit says al-wus remember the way out. We’ll make two left turns and two right.” He sounded so confident that some of Meredith Rose’s rising fear dwindled.
“How will we know when Icha—Mr. Crane is gone?”
Sammy snorted. “Huh! You won’t catch him in here. I bet he’s already sneaked out so’s folks won’t know he scared us. It won’t do any good. I’m gonna tell Brit.” He paused. “I told you him ’n’ me’d take care of you.”
She wanted to hug him but refrained, sensing his young manliness might be offended. “I do appreciate it,” she solemnly told him.
After what felt like a century but couldn’t have been more than fifteen minutes, Sammy announced, “We c’n go now.” He took her hand and confidently led her back the way they had come. Before they arrived at the main passage, the welcome sound of Brit and Marcus’s voices calling their names reached them.
“We’re here, Brit,” Sammy shrilled, stepping into the open with his teacher.
The lantern in Brit’s hand shook as he held it high. “Sammy Reilly, what in thunder possessed you to take Miss Merry off like this?”
All the small boy’s bravado crumpled. “I–I…”
Meredith Rose knew men often yelled when worried, but Sammy’s woebegone face roused her ire. “Briton Farley, you should be thanking Sammy, not bellowing at him!” She ignored a sob rising in her throat, marched over, planted herself in front of Brit, and glared into his face. “Ignatius Crane frightened me, and Sammy helped me get away.” The last word came out as a squeak, for Brit put both arms around her and kissed her like she’d never been kissed before. Thoroughly. Tenderly. Reverently.
“It’s the last time he or anyone else will frighten you if I have anything to say about it! Meredith Rose Macrae, I love you as I have never loved any other woman. Will you marry me?” Without waiting for an answer, he kissed her again.
She felt she had at last come home. A loud haw-haw from Marcus, and Sammy’s ecstatic, “Oh, boy, wait’ll I tell Ma!” brought her to her senses and out of Brit’s arms.
“Hold it, Pard. She hasn’t said yes yet,” Brit reminded Sammy. “Women have been known to say no. Or even change their minds.”
Sickening reality shattered Meredith Rose’s bliss. She stepped back, knowing her face was whiter than falling snow. “Is that what happened with the woman I remind you of? The one who m–meant e–everything to you?” How maddening that her voice broke on the last words!
A poignant light gleamed in the amber eyes. “Merry, that woman was my mother. She died when I was just a few years old.”
Silence fell over the group but not for long. Marcus, the irrepressible, drawled, “‘Wal, I reckon that’ll be aboot all,’ as the cowboys say.” He glanced down at Alice Perry, whose blue eyes looked enormous in the dim light. “At least for now.” Even the dim light couldn’t hide the pretty blush that rose from the collar of her hand-sewn dress.
Sammy anxiously reminded his teacher, “You ain’t said yes.”
“So I haven’t.” She smiled down at him, then looked straight into Brit’s clear eyes. What she saw there more than repaid all the heartache she had experienced over the last long months. “Yes, Brit, I will marry you. On one condition.”
He straightened as if burned with a branding iron. “Which is?”
With a flash of clarity, she knew Brit thought she’d ask him to leave the town he loved and had founded to take her back to Boston. Boston? Twenty-seven hundred miles and a lifetime away. Heedless of their audience, she placed her hands on his shoulders. “It’s just that I’d like for the school bell to ring on our wedding day.”
“Is that all? I thought—”
“I know.” She stood on tiptoe and kissed him. “I’d also like a Christmas wedding.”
Brit tilted his head to one side. A delighted smile appeared. “Sounds good to me. Fall roundup will be over, whic
h means time for a honeymoon.”
It was enough for Sammy. “Ya-hoo,” he screeched, racing out of the mine like a speeding bullet. The announcement of the brand-new engagement floated back. “Ma, ever’body, Brit ’n’ Teacher’s gettin’ hitched come Christmas!”
Mischief shone in Brit’s eyes and he glanced at Marcus. “Now all we have to do is run Ignatius Crane out of town and wait until December!”
“Amen to that!” Marcus heartily agreed, but they were deprived of the satisfaction of ridding the range of the unpleasant man. Ichabod–Ignatius, as Meredith Rose would always call him, had shaken the dust of Last Chance off his boots and departed for parts unknown long before the picnickers returned to town.
On Christmas Eve Day, sunlight burst through the December clouds and streamed through the windows of the living quarters behind the one-room schoolhouse in Last Chance. It rested on Meredith Rose Macrae in her simple white gown and veil.
The sound of those entering the classroom and taking their places for “Teacher and Brit’s” wedding was music to the bride’s ears. So was the joyous tolling of the school bell that summoned students to their studies and worshipers to church.
Marcus Macrae stood at the window, looking across the street to the close-to-completion home where he and his Alice would live after their wedding in the new year. A dedicated teacher and his family would occupy the schoolhouse quarters, and a church would be built in the spring. Marcus smiled. “Well, old dear,” he said, “this is it.”
Merry turned her radiant face to him. “If you had told me last March all this would happen, I wouldn’t have believed it. I railed against God, Marcus, thinking He had ruined my life. All the time He knew where I—where we—belonged.” She gave him a tender smile.
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