“Since it’s been warmer outside, could we go see Papa, and not wait for him to come see us?”
“Yeah, could we?”
Caroline couldn’t deny the little leap of her heart at Amelia’s words, but she chewed her lip as she considered the notion. Why shouldn’t they go see Jack? Since he’d stopped coming Sundays, his visits seemed shorter, without church and Sunday dinner to prolong them.
Her father would probably object to them going alone, because the two drovers-turned-outlaws were still at large, but Dan could come along, armed with their father’s rifle. It wasn’t as if they’d have anything the outlaws wanted, anyway.
“All right,” she said. “Tomorrow’s Saturday. Unless the weather’s bad, we’ll go,” she told them, then smiled as they cheered.
She wondered how he would act around her—would he be stiff, without the buffering presence of her parents? Would he invite them to stay and eat? They could bake a pie, or a cake, she thought, or two, so there’d be plenty to share with Jack’s men.
If he didn’t seem pleased to see her, she could always leave the twins there and go see Milly for a while. It had been a while since she’d had a cozy chat with her best friend, anyway, and seen baby Nicholas. But she fervently hoped her coming would please him.
* * *
Only minutes after his talk with Raleigh, Jack was surprised to see a buggy approach. And the last person Jack expected to emerge from the buggy, once it pulled to a stop between the bunkhouse and the house, was Gil Chadwick. Jack stood blinking in surprise as the young preacher started walking toward him and tried to think why he might be here. Was something wrong with one of his daughters? With Caroline? Chadwick did not look alarmed, but he didn’t look happy, either.
“Afternoon, Gil,” Jack said, with a casualness he did not feel. “Out paying pastoral calls? Is it because I’ve missed church lately?”
“No, Papa and I heard about your reason for staying out here on Sundays, and of course we understand.” He shifted his gaze to indicate the dwelling behind Jack. “What’s this? I heard the house out here had been burned to the ground a while back.”
“It was. We got bored over the winter and decided to build a new one,” Jack said, shifting the hammer he’d unconsciously carried out of the house from hand to hand. “Just something to pass the time.” So why are you here? Behind him, he sensed Raleigh, or maybe one of the men upstairs, peering out a window to see who had come.
“What can I do for you, Gil?” he said, choosing to be polite, but he heard the edge in his voice and knew the other man was aware of it, too.
Gil Chadwick took a deep breath. “Thought I might be able to do something for you—or at least try to.”
“Oh?”
The other man put a hand on each hip, looked down for a moment, then raised his eyes to Jack. “I’ve been troubled about something, praying on it. I finally talked to my father—I consider him a man of great wisdom,” Gil said. “He made me see I needed to talk to you.”
“To me? What about?”
“Caroline.”
Jack stiffened. “What about Caroline?”
“I think you love her,” Gil said, “and she loves you. Your children love her. I don’t know what happened that’s keeping the two of you apart, but I need to warn you.”
“Warn me?” He felt like a fool, repeating what the other man was saying like that stupid parrot his stepmother used to keep in the parlor, but each word from Gil Chadwick’s mouth surprised him so much he couldn’t seem to get ahead enough to summon his thoughts.
“I love her, too, Collier. And after all this thinking and praying and talking to my father, I decided the only fair, right thing to do was warn you, like I said. Caroline likes me, likes my company, but I can tell it’s you she loves. However, I think she’s ready to get on with her life, and I don’t think she plans to spend it pining for you, if you don’t want her.”
Chadwick’s words were coming thick and fast now, like blows. His earlier hesitation was gone.
“If I don’t want her?” Jack echoed. “Chadwick—”
But the other man wasn’t waiting for him. “Collier, I came to tell you that if you don’t want her, I’m going to court her, and I think I stand a decent chance of winning her. And if I do, I’ll thank God every day for it and never make her sorry she chose me.”
“I—I do want her,” Jack said, his voice hoarse and rusty, like a man who hasn’t spoken for a long time. “I love her. But... I’m not the kind of man she needs—educated, well-read. You are.”
Chadwick’s face was incredulous. “Do you even believe that...those things you’re saying? That’s a lot of...” he pointed at the distant field where the cattle were grazing. “Well, there’s plenty of it lying in clumps out there. All right, I’ve said my piece. If you don’t do anything about it, next week I’m going to start courting Caroline in earnest.”
“I’ll come right now, with you—just wait while I saddle my horse,” Jack said, surprised to hear the words coming from his mouth. But he meant them. If there was even a chance Caroline loved him as the young preacher said, he’d be a fool to let her go.
But the other man shook his head. “No. Don’t come now,” he said. “If you’re smart, you’ll take the rest of the day to think and pray about this. Make sure this is what you want to do, because Caroline doesn’t need to be hurt anymore. Come tomorrow.” He climbed back into the buggy.
“Thank you,” Jack muttered, still a little dazed, but the other man showed no sign he heard him as he turned the horse and headed back the way the way he’d come.
He knew the young preacher had given him wise advice but suspected Chadwick also hadn’t wanted his company. The other man had some sorrowing to do, knowing his sense of fairness had cost him Caroline, and that was best done alone.
He was going to take Gil Chadwick’s advice to the letter. He saddled his horse and rode in the opposite direction of Simpson Creek. He needed to be alone to think and pray.
* * *
“I think we have everything we need,” Caroline said, covering the chocolate cakes and placing them inside a long rectangular basket so they wouldn’t be damaged as the buckboard rolled along the rutted road to the ranch.
“Papa’s gonna like the cake,” Amelia said.
“And Mr. Raleigh, too,” Abby said.
“I’ll just see if Dan is ready, and—”
A loud peremptory knock interrupted her.
Could Jack have decided to come see them, just as they were leaving to visit him? It might be Gil, and that would be awkward....
She went to the door, hope lending wings to her feet.
But it was not Jack who stood there, or Gil, but Superintendent Thurgood. She smothered a sigh of irritation.
“Good morning, sir,” she said, feeling as grim as his face. Why had he come now?
“You look as if you’re going somewhere,” he said, nodding at her bonneted head and the shawl she wore.
“I—We were, yes, the girls and I...”
“I’m afraid there is something that needs your attention more at the school.”
“Is it possible it could wait till Monday?” she asked. “We were just leaving—”
His face darkened like a thundercloud. “No, it can’t! Come to the schoolhouse. I must show you the result of your carelessness,” he said, his face like thunder.
“My carelessness? Whatever are you talking about?” she asked.
The twins had appeared at her side. “But we were going to see our papa,” Abby protested.
“Hush, dear. I have to see what Mr. Thurgood is talking about,” Caroline said, leaden with resentment that this man had shown up now. If they’d just left a few minutes earlier... “Very well, then. Lead the way, Mr. Thurgood.”
The twins, already dressed for the trip, tagged along at their heels, and she didn’t
try to stop them, for she didn’t fancy being alone with this overbearing man. Perhaps the presence of the children would keep him from the worst of the tirade she sensed he would unleash, though she didn’t know what she’d done.
The streets of Simpson Creek were thronged with folks doing their errands, coming into town to stock up on supplies. But once the four left Main Street to turn down Fannin toward the schoolhouse, they were alone with the superintendent.
He stomped up the stairs and shoved the door so hard it slammed against the inside wall. The twins flinched.
“This is what happens when you don’t live up to your responsibilities,” he said, his face flinty.
Chapter Twenty-Three
He pointed.
“Aunt Caroline!” one of the girls cried.
Her mind couldn’t take in the extent of the devastation. Papers littered the floor. Soot and mud blotched the whitewashed walls. Books lay strewn half open, pages ripped out, on desks and in an untidy heap next to the upended bookcase. Her desk had been overturned, too, and scored with deep gouges, as if someone had taken a bowie knife and used it at will. A jagged-edged, fist-size hole was punched through the center of the window. Glass shards glittered on the floor beneath it.
“This is what happens when you’re careless about locking the door when you leave, Miss Wallace,” Thurgood snarled.
“But I locked it,” she said shakily, gazing around her and trying to imagine how this could ever be put right. “I lock the door every time I leave it—or Miss Wheeler does, if she stays longer,” she said.
“And Friday? Who was last to leave?” he snapped.
“I was—we were,” she amended, indicating the twins. “The girls and I left together, and Miss Wheeler left only moments before. Do you remember me locking it, girls?”
They nodded in unison.
“Of course they would agree with you,” Thurgood said archly. “It means nothing.”
Had she locked it? Caroline thought desperately about the routine she always followed when leaving—she took her bonnet from its hook by the door, put it on, picked up her poke, pushed the door open and walked outside, then turned to lock the door. Yes, she was sure she had locked it.
Then who would have done this?
“I don’t care what your plans were, Miss Wallace,” Thurgood snapped, “but consider them canceled. You will have to work all day today and Sunday, too, if this place is to be fit for the use of your students on Monday, which it must be. Your wages will be docked as well until you have paid for the things damaged beyond repair, which I have yet to assess.”
So she would be working for free until the end of the term at least, Caroline guessed. Was he trying to get her to quit?
“That’s not fair,” Abby protested, stomping her foot. “Aunt Caroline didn’t do this!”
“Abby, be quiet,” Caroline said. She’d talk to them after the superintendent left, but for now, she just wanted to get him out the door. “Have you reported this to the sheriff?”
He nodded, setting his jowls waggling. “Of course, but there’s nothing he can do to prove who did this,” he said. “You’d best get busy cleaning it up. Perhaps I should escort the children home, so they do not distract you.”
“I’m not going anywhere with him,” Amelia said, her tone mutinous, her arms crossed. Then she stuck out her tongue at Thurgood.
“Amelia!” Caroline cried, shocked.
“Little brat!” Thurgood shouted, and for a moment Caroline was afraid he might slap the child. Then she would have to resort to violence herself.
But he took a stiff step back. “Very well,” he said. “Let them stay and make themselves useful, if you think you can keep them from wreaking any further havoc. It might be a good lesson for them. Wouldn’t surprise me a bit if they weren’t responsible for all this, anyway.”
The utter ridiculousness of his accusation made Caroline’s jaw drop. Thurgood left before she could gather her wits enough to respond. Which was just as well, because she might have said something unbecoming to a lady in front of the children.
“I’m sorry, girls,” she said, kneeling and pulling them close to her, even as tears of rage and disappointment streamed down her cheeks. “I won’t be able to take you out to see your papa today, but maybe if you go back to the house, Dan could take you—”
“No, Aunt Caroline, we’re gonna stay and help you,” Amelia said, hugging her.
“Yeah, we can go ’nother time. Don’t cry, Aunt Caroline.” Abby said, hugging her from the other side.
Of course, that had the effect of making her cry harder.
“Girls, I want you to do something for me,” Caroline said, when she was finally calm enough to speak. “Go to the house—no, I don’t mean you have to stay there—and tell Dan what happened.” Her father was on duty at the post office and her mother was visiting Mrs. Detwiler, but her brother could help. “Tell Dan to go tell the sheriff what happened.” Caroline wasn’t at all sure Thurgood had reported the matter to the sheriff, despite what he’d said. “Then I want him to return home and gather up another bucket, mop and some rags, and bring them here.”
Dan wouldn’t be too happy about spending his day off from the livery helping her clean, but he’d come to her aid, she was sure. “In the meantime, I’ll get started cleaning with the supplies in the cloakroom. Can you remember all that?”
Both girls nodded, their faces solemn, and turned to go.
“And put on your oldest clothes before you come back,” she added, for they were wearing their nicest dresses for their papa. “We’re going to get very dirty.”
She looked down at her own white blouse and wished she had worn something more practical. It was going to be ruined, but she dare not leave to change. Thurgood might be watching. At least her skirt was dark, since she’d planned to take the buckboard.
She watched them go, then headed for the cloakroom. It was the teacher’s responsibility to clean the schoolhouse from time to time, so there would already be at least one bucket and mop and some rags to start the project.
* * *
“Like shooting fish in a barrel,” Sims said to his partner, as they watched the girls marching purposely away from the school. Their path would take them right past the bushes where they waited. He chuckled.
“Yeah, I got a little nervous when Thurgood didn’t walk out with the brats,” Adams said, “but looks like this’ll work out jes’ fine.” Both men tensed, ready to spring out of hiding.
Caroline opened the cloakroom door and was face to face with William Henderson.
For a moment she could only stare at his leering face. “What are you doing here?” she demanded. Then realization struck her. “You did this,” she accused. “All that damage out there. But why?”
“Naw, I didn’t do it,” he said. He seemed amused rather than upset at the charge. “Couple of our partners did. Seems they don’t have no respect for education.” He guffawed at his own joke.
Our? “Well, I’m going to tell Mr. Thurgood,” she said, turning to go, fear rapidly surpassing anger.
“You ain’t goin’ nowhere,” Henderson told her. “That’d mess up our plan.” He chuckled, and the sound sent ice sliding down her spine.
“Plan? What plan?” She wanted to run, but her muscles seemed limp.
“Our plan to teach you a lesson, Teacher,” he said and lunged for her.
Even as his hands closed on her shoulders, she heard a scream. A little girl’s scream, suddenly muffled.
* * *
Jack’s heart was full of joy as he rode into Simpson Creek. After spending the afternoon praying and considering his decision, he had fallen asleep without difficulty and slept the night through.
Why had he ever made things so difficult? He loved Caroline, and if Gil was to be believed, she loved him. All his previous suppositions about Caroline and who she sh
ould or should not love didn’t matter a hill of beans.
His mistake had been to let what his father thought of him matter more than what the Lord thought of him. His brother had loved him, and his men seemed to like him and certainly respected him—all but those two who had left—and, according to Gil, Caroline loved him. So maybe his father’s opinion wasn’t accurate. He’d been an idiot to let it affect his decisions all these years.
Well, that was over, starting now. He was going to ride right up to the Wallace house, tell Caroline he loved her and ask her to marry him. Then he’d take her to see her wedding present, the house. It wasn’t too late for him to make any changes she deemed necessary.
But Caroline wasn’t there when he got to the Wallaces’.
Dan answered his knock. “Hey, Jack, we were just comin’ to see you,” he said, gesturing to a basket which sat upon the kitchen table, “but then that windbag Thurgood showed up, an’ I heard him tellin’ Caroline she had t’come to the school with him to see something, and then I heard her leavin’ with him. The girls must’ve gone, too, ’cause when I came into the parlor to see what was up, they weren’t here.”
Jack felt a spark of irritation. If that pompous fool had so much as made Caroline frown, he’d make him pay for it. And if the man had been the least bit unkind to his daughters, he’d bloody his nose. Well, perhaps he’d better trot over to the school and tell that churnhead Caroline didn’t need the schoolmarm job because she was going to marry him.
He got back on his roan and was just tying up at the school hitching rail when the sound of a tremendous commotion within reached his ears. He heard a thud, as if something—or somebody—was being slammed against a wall. He heard glass shatter.
And then he heard her scream.
He took the steps in one leap.
The Rancher's Courtship & Lone Wolf's Lady Page 23
