The Rancher's Courtship & Lone Wolf's Lady

by Laurie Kingery

  Caroline politely declined, but the girls were happy to take the old cook up on his offer.

  “Mind if we go out and check the herd?” Jack asked Caroline.

  “Of course not,” she said.

  “Girls, you stay with Cookie and mind what he says, you hear? It’s all right to look at the cabin, but you stay out of the men’s way.”

  “Yes, Papa.”

  Jack clucked to the horses, steering them onto a dirt track in the scrub that led to the western edge of the ranch’s land. He waved to one of his drovers lounging on a limestone boulder over the creek, whittling as he watched over the herd.

  The cattle looked good, as Raleigh’d said. Some grazed near the creek’s edge, others lay chewing their cuds, their hides twitching, their tails swishing to repel the flies that tormented them.

  “That’s a funny-looking creature,” Caroline said, pointing to a red-spotted steer with crooked horns and a walleye.

  “That’s the lead steer, Old Red,” Jack told her. “He can be cantankerous, but he leads the rest of them right where we need them to go. He’s been on the trail before, so he’s only one who won’t be sold for meat at the end of the trail. We’ll keep him for other trail drives, or sell him to another outfit needing a leader.”

  Caroline asked other questions about trail driving, surprising Jack with her interest and quick grasp of the details. The woman could probably find something to converse about with the President himself.

  They returned to the building site, finding Abby and Amelia wrapped up in some yarn Cookie was spinning. Jack saw his men casting speculative glances at Caroline. They were sure to pester him with questions about her later, though they’d be oblique, respectful ones. Cowhands didn’t see many respectable women in their hardworking lives.

  Jack was surprised at the regret he felt when it was time to take Caroline and the girls back to town. Did Caroline feel it, too?

  Chapter Eight

  “I think we’re ready to go, girls,” Caroline said, after sending Billy Joe Henderson on his way home. Once again, she’d been forced by his mischievous behavior to keep him after school to write on the chalkboard.

  She was starting to think the boy committed his acts of mischief deliberately, as a way to postpone going home to his chores and his harsh father, even though his actions might result in more punishment for coming home late. She’d have to think of some other way to deal with the boy, she thought—maybe she should pay a call on both parents and tell them she would be giving their son some extra tutoring, so he wouldn’t be punished for his lateness, and spend time working with him on his reading and ciphering. The boy wasn’t unintelligent, but he wouldn’t apply himself. Perhaps he thought acting up was the only way to gain her attention.

  Amelia and Abby, who’d been quietly looking at one of the older-grade McGuffey readers while Billy Joe had written on the chalkboard, picked up their lunch pails and came to join her, but just then footfalls sounded on the steps outside. She heard a peremptory knock.

  Her first quick thought was that it was Jack, in town for some reason and stopping off to see his girls. She was surprised by the quick lurch of pleasure the idea gave her. But it couldn’t be—he’d just seen them yesterday, and he couldn’t be leaving the work at the ranch to come see them every day.

  Before she could even go to the door, however, a heavyset man with wide muttonchop whiskers and spectacles perched on a bulbous nose entered the room without waiting for an invitation.

  “Miss Wallace?”

  “Yes?” She tried to place the man, but she didn’t think she’d ever met him.

  “Everett Thurgood,” he said. He didn’t offer his hand. “I’m the San Saba school superintendent. I thought it was time I made your acquaintance, young lady.”

  His tone implied it was somehow her fault that he had not. Miss Phelps had mentioned him before she’d left for India, and the wrinkling of the old spinster’s nose had tacitly indicated her opinion of the superintendent.

  “And these are—?” he said, indicating the staring, silent twins with a raised brow. “Misbehaving scholars, perhaps?”

  “Oh, no, sir, they’re very good students,” Caroline said, glad she had already sent Billy Joe on his way. “They’re Amelia and Abby Collier, and they’re staying with my family over the winter.”

  “I see.” Thurgood continued to eye them as if wondering what species they were. “If I might have a moment of your time, Miss Wallace?”

  Was he here to assess her work? Why hadn’t he come during the school day, if that was the case? It had been a challenging day, and Caroline was eager to get home. But she knew her duty.

  “Girls, could you play outside for a few minutes while Mr. Thurgood and I chat? Don’t leave the schoolyard.”

  Mr. Thurgood waited, staring out the window, hands clasped behind him, as the twins scampered out the door.

  He turned when the door banged behind them. “Miss Wallace, it’s the understanding of every schoolteacher in the county that attendance at the yearly Institute held at the San Saba courthouse is mandatory. At that weeklong meeting, all the teachers in the county are instructed in new aspects of the subjects that they teach. You did not attend.”

  “No, sir,” Caroline said, feeling her hackles rise at the man’s sharp tone. “It was held in June, and I did not decide to assume this position until late summer. Miss Phelps, my predecessor, assured me that it would be no problem, providing I attended next summer.”

  Mr. Thurgood harrumphed. “There wouldn’t have been a problem, young lady, had you communicated with me on the matter. Very well, then, you will be present at the next Institute, provided the county keeps you on next term.”

  Caroline blinked in surprise at the implied threat. “Of course,” she murmured. “Would you...would you perhaps like to look over my lesson plans, in the meantime, since you’re here?”

  She hoped he would decline, but he did not, so she was forced to spend the next hour showing him the outlines of what she had been teaching in every grade. He examined test papers, looked at the McGuffey readers, peered at the slates she was taking home, harrumphing all the while. Every so often she would go to the window to check on the twins, hoping he would get the hint, but he didn’t.

  When at last he rose—to leave, she thought, stifling a sigh of relief—he peered at her down his nose. “You’re in mourning, Miss Wallace?” he asked, as if he had just noticed. “It is ‘Miss’ Wallace, isn’t it? Not ‘Mrs.’? I don’t like my teachers to have been married, even if they are widowed,” he told her.

  Your teachers? Why, you pompous old windbag. She bit her lip to keep back a sharp retort.

  “In my day—I was a schoolmaster for many years, you know, before becoming the superintendent—having women teachers who had been married simply was not done.”

  “No, I was not married, sir,” she said. “I wear mourning for my fiancé, who died last winter.” As if it’s any of your business. And then she immediately felt guilty, because the Bible enjoined believers to respect those in authority. Forgive me, Lord. I’ll try harder, though this man makes it difficult.

  He cleared his throat, noisily. “I see. I’ll be on my way, Miss Wallace. But expect that I will be calling again, in the course of my duties to this county.”

  “You’re welcome anytime,” she forced herself to say. “When you come, why not make it during school hours—so you can observe my teaching, of course,” she added, when he looked at her sharply. Did he guess she didn’t like being alone with him? “Perhaps you would like to drill the students on their spelling or some other subject.”

  He harrumphed again. “We shall see, Miss Wallace. Good evening.”

  The moment he got into his buggy, the twins ran past it back inside.

  “Aunt Caroline! Who was that stuffy old man?” Abby asked.

  “He stayed forever! Can we go
home now?” Amelia added.

  She nodded. “You were such good, patient girls to wait so long. That was the school superintendent, Mr. Thurgood.”

  Amelia’s brow wrinkled. “What’s a ‘sprintenant’?”

  Caroline had to smile at the child’s attempt to pronounce the big, unfamiliar word. “I suppose you could say the superintendent is my boss, like your papa is the boss of Mr. Masterson and the rest of the drovers.”

  “Well, our papa is a nicer boss than your boss,” Amelia said sympathetically. “All his men like him. Don’t you wish Papa was your boss instead?”

  Caroline blinked, not knowing quite what to say to that. “Well, I’m sure your papa would say he doesn’t know much about being the boss of teachers,” she said carefully. “But sometimes, we learn the most from bosses who are tough.”

  Both girls looked skeptical.

  “I hope Aunt Mary will let us have a cookie before supper,” Abby said. “I’m famished!”

  “I wish Papa could come to supper,” Amelia said. “He’s probably just having beans and corn bread. Cookie doesn’t cook as good as Aunt Mary.”

  “As well,” Caroline corrected automatically, her mind summoning a picture of Jack Collier, hunkered down at a campfire with a bowl of beans and corn bread. Her mother had invited him to stay for supper when they’d arrived back from the ranch last evening, but he’d said he had to get back to the ranch before it grew dark. He’d probably had enough of her prim presence by his side. Ah, well, she didn’t know how to be anyone but herself.

  But she’d been surprised at how disappointed she’d been. There was just something so compelling about the man. He commanded attention without even trying. He drew people to him like iron filings to a magnet.

  She must not expect his visits to his children would always include her. After all, she had made her feelings plain, that she had given up the desire for a husband and family and chosen teaching instead. Even if he had feelings for her, she couldn’t return them.

  * * *

  Caroline made a change to the twins’ school day routine after that, for she decided it wasn’t fair for Amelia and Abigail to have to wait at the school when she had to keep a pupil after class. From now on, if she wasn’t ready to leave when she dismissed class, the twins would walk home with Lizzie Halliday, since the older girl lived just down the street from the Wallaces.

  Today, however, Billy Joe had been uncharacteristically subdued and well-behaved, and none of the other usual mischief makers had given their teacher any reason to keep them after class. Caroline and the twins walked up Fannin Street from the school, but just as they arrived at the intersection with Main Street, a couple of horsemen rode by. They stared at the girls, then their beard-shadowed faces broke into grins of recognition.

  Caroline felt Abby and Amelia shrink closer to her.

  “Well, if it ain’t the twins. Howdy, girls!” said one of them.

  “Who’s this purty lady with ya?” said the other, looking Caroline up and down.

  “It’s our teacher, Mr. Shorty,” Amelia said.

  The other one guffawed. “Tarnation, if teachers had been so purty when I was in school, I might not’ve been a broke-down outa-work cowboy today.”

  “Ya would, too. Yore head’s too thick for book larnin’, Alvin.” He fingered the brim of his cap toward Caroline, but the gesture lost its respectful tone when coupled with his frank assessment of her. “Shorty Adams, ma’am. That there’s Alvin Sims.”

  “Mr. Adams. Mr. Sims.” Caroline acknowledged them with a brisk nod. She assumed they must be two of Jack’s cowhands, yet she didn’t remember seeing them at the ranch Sunday. And none of Jack’s men had struck her as insolent—quite the opposite. “We must be getting home. Please give our best to Mr. Collier.”

  “Oh, we don’t work for Collier no more,” Alvin said with a sneer that wrinkled his mustache, which was uneven due to a scar that bisected it. “We ain’t carpenters, we’re cowboys.”

  Caroline remembered now that a pair of Jack’s drovers had chosen to quit once he’d announced his plan to winter here. She wondered absently if they’d found other work, but if so, why were they absent from it in mid-afternoon?

  “Good day, gentleman,” she said, knowing they didn’t deserve the term. She gave each girl’s arm a meaningful squeeze, then resumed walking toward the post office, flanked on each side by the twins.

  She heard snickering as the two rode off.

  “I don’t like those men,” Abby said, once they were out of earshot. “That Mr. Shorty was always spitting tobacco juice anywhere he happened to be. Once it even landed on my boot. Papa made him apologize.”

  “And rightly so,” Caroline said. “Well, you needn’t worry about them anymore. No doubt they’ll drift on back to south Texas and you’ll never see them again.”

  “I hope so,” Amelia said. “Alvin hid my dolly one time. He said he was only teasing, but I don’t think Papa thought so, ’cause I heard him giving Alvin a talking-to afterward and he sounded angry.”

  Caroline could well imagine how much such a prank had upset the child, since Amelia was rarely seen without her doll clutched by one cloth arm. What kind of a man would take a child’s doll? Jack was better off without these fellows.

  The smell of fresh-baked cookies tickled her nostrils as they entered the kitchen. Molasses, unless she missed her guess.

  “There you are,” her mother greeted them from the kitchen table, where she was paring apples. “Did you girls have a good day at school? I have cookies and milk waiting for you. Go wash up and you can have a couple. You just missed Faith Bennett,” her mother said to Caroline. “She wanted to remind you of the Spinsters’ Club meeting tonight at her house.”

  Caroline groaned. Faith Bennett had become the president of the Spinsters’ Club when Prissy had gotten married. “When are they going to understand that I’m not interested anymore? I suppose I should just tell them, flat-out.”

  Her mother tsked at her. “She said you would say that. She told me to tell you the main purpose of the meeting is to work on the quilt that’s to be their contribution for the Christmas raffle for the Deserving Poor of San Saba County.”

  “Sure, but while we’re stitching the quilt, Hannah, Polly and Bess will all be cooing about outings with their beaux.”

  Her mother gave her a look, and Caroline realized how envious her words had sounded. “I’m not jealous, Mama, only disinterested. Besides, with those three matched up this summer, the number of members has to be dwindling. Milly doesn’t come much anymore, since she has a baby. Pretty soon everyone will be married and there’ll be no more Spinsters’ Club,” she said with a dismissive gesture.

  “No, Faith mentioned there were some new members coming—her cousin, who’s come to live with them, for one. She says Louisa loves the theater as you do, and she’s even been to plays by that Shakespeare fellow you set such store by.”

  Caroline sighed. Faith had guessed her Achilles’ heel—her love of plays. She hadn’t been quite honest when she’d let Jack Collier think she had no interest in traveling. It was true she cared little about journeys in themselves, or sightseeing, but if she could have gone somewhere where theaters were available—ah, that would be Heaven on earth.

  “But I have my students’ work to look over,” she protested, “and what about—” She nodded toward Abby and Amelia, who were back in the kitchen and devouring their cookies like hungry wolf cubs.

  “Caroline Wallace, you can look over your students’ work right now, while I’m getting supper ready,” her mother told her tartly. “And I’m sure the girls can make do with me while you’re gone. All work and no play—”

  “Makes Caroline Jane Wallace a dull girl,” Caroline finished for her, using her mother’s usual paraphrase. “All right, I’ll go—I would like to hear about the plays,” she admitted.

  * * *

/>   Caroline had to admit she was having a good time and was glad she had come to the meeting. The new girls seemed nice enough—Kate Patterson had recently come to live with Mrs. Patterson, her aunt, to help in the store, and Ella Justiss had come to work for the hotel as a waitress and maid-of-all-work. And Caroline liked Faith Bennett’s cousin, Louisa Wheeler, immediately. Before she even got a chance to ask her about the plays she’d seen, Louisa peppered her with questions about teaching. She’d inherited a bit of money upon her parents’ death, she said, and had no pressing need to work, but she was interested in becoming a teacher. After answering her questions, Caroline finally invited her to observe a class or two to see if she’d like to be a volunteer aide.

  When the quilting began, Caroline maneuvered a spot next to Louisa, and maneuvered the talk around to Romeo and Juliet, the play she’d seen in Houston put on by a traveling company.

  “It was such a tragic story, but so romantic,” Louisa said with a sigh of remembrance. “I’m glad I’m unlikely to fall in love with some man whose family and mine are deadly rivals,” she said with a wry smile. “If I ever fall in love at all.”

  “Oh, you will if you want to,” Sarah Walker said, overhearing the newcomer’s words from across the quilt. “Simpson Creek has seen a lot of matches made since my sister started the Spinsters’ Club. It’s quite amazing.”

  “Speaking of matches, Caroline,” Polly Shackleford, seated on Caroline’s other side, said in her usual piercing voice, “have you lassoed that trail boss whose girls are staying with you, or is he available?”

  Caroline was too shocked by the tactless question to speak, but Faith Bennett had no such difficulty.

  “Why, Polly, I thought you and that hardware store man from Austin were keeping company. What happened to that?”

  Polly shrugged. “He got homesick and went back to Austin. So I thought I’d ask Caroline about Jack Collier before I started trying to cut him out of the herd.” She gave a raucous laugh, while around the quilting circle, the ladies exchanged glances and shot worried looks at Caroline.