The Teacher's Mail Order Bride

by Cindy Caldwell

  Rose blinked slowly, trying to understand what she was hearing. “Is that true?” she said softly.

  “Sadly, it is. Very few women here in Arizona Territory learned how to read and write.”

  She sat down at the vanity, stunned at the information she’d just received. She hadn’t known how fortunate she was to have her parents’ support to even be allowed to go to school. She wondered if Maria knew anything about the boys that they’d been unable to locate as she seemed to know much of what was happening in town. She’d stayed after the Mexican-American war, not wanting to leave her birthplace even though it now belonged to a different country—one that spoke a different language.

  “Maria, I’ve seen some young boys who loiter around the school but who don’t come in. They didn’t sign up for school, but they seem to really want to come. I saw one leaving the schoolhouse with a couple of books, but he dropped them when he was startled to see me on the bench. Why don’t they come to school? I don’t understand.”

  Maria sighed, rubbing at her eyes with her thumb and forefinger. “I imagine it is difficult for you to understand, mi hija, as it has not been your experience. But many children are not allowed to go to school. Their parents need them to help work, to earn enough money or grow enough food to survive. Your father has taken very good care of his family, but not all families are as fortunate.”

  So what Michael had said was true. She hadn’t thought she was naive—after all, she knew much about the world, or at least she thought—but anybody not having the ability or encouragement to even learn how to read and write—well, the thought was shocking.

  Maria turned Rose back toward the mirror and held her plaid jacket for her to put on. Rose slipped her arms into the billowing sleeves that Rose had once thought impractical, but as she looked in the mirror now, she felt different. Maybe a little older, less naive.

  Maria caught Rose’s gaze in the mirror, resting her hands on Rose’s shoulders and said, “Yes, Miss Rose, the world is a very big place. Unfortunately, it’s not always a fair or gentle place. Not for everybody, anyway.”

  Patting Maria’s hand with her own, her gaze steady in Maria’s eyes. “Maybe this opportunity is so I can help. And if there’s any way I can, I intend to.”

  Chapter 19

  Michael woke early—not unusual at all on the first day of school. He reached for his glasses and for the thousandth time wished he didn’t have to wear them. He hadn’t had to when he was in school—something he was grateful for—but as he moved on to his teacher training, he realized that it was harder and harder to read. Finally breaking down, he mentioned to his parents that he thought he might need spectacles, and had worn them ever since.

  He sprung out of bed, hoping that it was still early enough to stop by the barber for a shave. He had his straight-edge, of course, but trying to rustle up some hot water this early in the morning had proven a challenge here in the boarding house.

  The boarding house—he stiffened at the thought. He had a bride coming. They couldn’t live in the boarding house. At least not for long. As he pulled on his white shirt and buttoned it, he thought he might ask Suzanne and James about housing when he saw them next. He had originally thought he’d be at the boarding house for several months—which was fine with him as he wouldn’t be cooking for himself anyway—but this new turn of events meant he’d need to make other arrangements.

  He pulled on his trousers and vest, slipping the ring of his pocket watch over one of the buttons. He held it in his hand, his thumb running over it as he admired the mother of pearl face. The back was worn smooth and it was difficult to make out the inscription. He knew it by heart, though, as it had been a wedding gift from his father to his mother.

  You have my heart forever, amore mia.

  You have my heart forever, my love. He sighed, wondering what his parents would think of this arrangement he’d agreed to. He couldn’t imagine that he and his future bride would ever say that to one another.

  He slipped on his shoes and threw on his coat, glancing at the pocket watch once more before he dropped it in the pocket of his vest. He’d have to hurry if he wanted a shave.

  His bed left unmade—another thing he hoped his mother never found out about—he slipped out the door of his room, closing it quietly behind him. He heard no noises in the boarding house and crept down the stairs and out the front door, stepping into the growing light.

  Taking a deep breath, he headed for the schoolhouse in long strides. He slowed as he neared the barbershop, relieved to see a light on inside. As he passed the business right before it he stopped, a movement just on the other side of the glass catching his eye. He turned to peer in the window, rubbing it a bit with his sleeve to make the glass clear again. As he squinted his eyes to see inside, the figure of a small boy moved from the back room to the front, pulling a heavy pail behind him. Michael stiffened as he recognized the boy—one that he and Rose had seen before, running out the gate as they were spotted.

  He reached for the door latch, jiggling it a bit before realizing it was locked. As he did, the boy started, dropping the pail and looking at the door, his eyes widening when he saw Michael again peering through the window.

  Michael stood back from the window and straightened, startled as the boy ran from the front room of the restaurant to the back as quick as his legs would carry him. He furrowed his brow and took off his hat. Tugging at his bow tie, he couldn’t think of a reason that the boy would be frightened of him.

  Shaking his head slowly, he continued on to the barbershop. The barber looked up as the bells on the door jingled.

  “Good morning, Mr. Tate,” the barber said, shaking out a towel and slipping straight-edged blades into hot water. “First day of school, is it?”

  Michael had been to see this barber a few times since he’d been in Tombstone and he enjoyed his easy manner and friendly ways. As he sat in the chair and the barber wrapped a towel around his neck, he said, “Yes, yes it is.”

  The barber covered Michael’s face with a warm towel as he dipped his brush in soapy lather. When he took the towel off but before he could cover him with lather, Michael asked, “Do you know the young boy at the restaurant next door?”

  It had apparently been enough, and the barber covered him with lather and started to shave while he talked.

  “I sure do,” he said. “That one there is Mr. Bailey’s youngest, Sammy. I think he’s about ten, maybe younger. He’s a good boy—helpful, too. Lugs in my water buckets for me when I’m busy for a penny or two. Hard worker, that one. His older brother helps out, too. But they’re good kids. Dad’s nice enough. Got a decent restaurant going over there. Serves mostly decent belly food, but it’s good. Lots of miners stop in early. He’s only open for breakfast and the noon meal. Closed at night. Suppose he wants to be home with his children, now his wife’s died.”

  Michael couldn’t respond while his face was covered in lather, and then was careful not to as the barber slipped the straight blade over his face in quick, even strokes. As soon as the barber wiped the remaining lather off of his face with the damp towel, he sat up and said, “Sounds like you’ve known them for quite a while. They ever gone to school.”

  The barber raised his eyebrows, his face splitting into a wide grin. “You kidding? School’s not for those boys. They’re working boys. Their dad needs their hands. Wasting their time at school, he always says.”

  Michael furrowed his brow. “Wouldn’t it make more sense if they could read and write and do their numbers? They might be more help then.”

  The barber wiped his hands on his apron. “Later, maybe, when their daddy can’t do that any longer. But for now, he needs their hands. You know how it goes, Professor. Lots of kids don’t go to school. It’s not that unusual.”

  Michael stood slowly, reaching into his pocket for a few coins and handing them to the barber. “No. No, I’m afraid it isn’t. Thanks for the shave.”

  He nodded at the barber as he pulled the door open, ste
pped out into the crisp morning air and felt the cool breeze on his newly shaven face. He peered to his left and took a step toward the restaurant, wondering if it was open. He stopped, shaking his head. The Widow Samson had said that not all students were expected at school. He headed toward the schoolhouse, his first day on his new job, but turned back at the end of the street, wishing that Sammy and his brother would be joining him.

  Chapter 20

  Rose had never worked so hard in her entire life. Getting up in the dark and milking cows and gathering eggs seemed like a walk in the park compared to the week she, Michael, and Suzanne had just had.

  She tried to remember the first day of school for her—so many children, all excited to see their friends again after sometimes months of separation. Most of the day was spent with her, Suzanne, and Michael calming students down and breaking them into groups by reading ability. For today, they’d moved the desks into three separate groups, Suzanne taking one, Rose another, and Michael the final one toward the front, by the chalkboard.

  Rose had the youngest group, one with Lily and Lucy in it, and she was impressed at their ability to sit quietly and do as she directed. She smiled as she watched them try to copy the letter “A” on the small chalkboards she’d given them, and along with a few other students, they’d made it up to “D”—which Rose thought was pretty good progress for one day, for children who were just getting ready to learn to read.

  She watched Michael, his shirt sleeves rolled up, push his glasses up as they’d slid while he was laughing. He stood and strode over to the bookshelf, tapping his nose with his finger as he perused the titles she’d arranged by author. He chose one and flipped it open, smiling as he snapped it shut and turned back his group. He caught her eye as he walked back to his group, nodding slightly in her direction with a broad smile that had come to be familiar to her, one that she liked very much.

  She overheard him ask the older students what they’d done in the summer, what was their favorite book and what they hoped to learn this year. She admired his ease with people, all faces in his group turned toward him with rapt attention as he read a few pages out of the book he’d retrieved from the book shelf.

  After a few hours of study, Michael decided that it would be good for the students to be outside for a while, and Rose was happy to take a break. She helped her small charges on with their coats and ushered them to the back door. Michael opened it wide as all the students rushed out into the back play yard, the boys immediately running through the piles of leaves that had fallen from her favorite shade tree.

  A group of the girls found a stick and scratched out a hopscotch board in the dirt to the right, and a group of the older students just walked, boys separate from girls. It was all utterly familiar to Rose, just as it had been when she was at school.

  She sat on the bench when all the students had settled into their activities, wiggling her toes in her boots, her tired feet reminding her that she was actually working hard. Suzanne let out a whoosh of breath. She waved at Lily and Lucy as they ran over to the hopscotch board, picking up rocks as markers and standing in line to take their turn.

  “This is more work than I realized,” Suzanne said as she leaned back against the wall of the schoolhouse. “It makes working at the mercantile look easy.”

  Rose’s stomach fluttered when she heard Michael’s deep, rich laughter. He walked over and sat down as well. “I find it invigorating. However, I’m not sure I would say the same without you two. Can you imagine what it would be like to have all of these students on your own?” He whistled slowly as he shook his head.

  Rose gazed over the play yard, grateful that no one had wandered beyond the small perimeter next to the school and into the sand and cactus that surrounded most of Tombstone. “I think we’re fortunate that they’re all as well-behaved as they are. And they all seem to be very excited to be here.”

  Michael’s eyes clouded as he, too, looked across the yard. “Yes. It should be something that all children are allowed to take advantage of.”

  Rose had had the same thoughts as Ben guided the buggy to the schoolhouse. Her thoughts ran back to the boy she’d seen the first day she’d gone to the schoolhouse. She wondered where he was today, as he was noticeably absent—to her, anyway—in the throng of students laughing and playing before her.

  “Is there nothing to be done about that?” She turned to Michael as he took off his tortoiseshell glasses and rubbed his eyes, his mood somber.

  Suzanne leaned forward and looked over at Michael as well. “I know you’ve spoken with the school committee about this, but is there nothing we can do? As individuals? If I knew who these children were I could have James speak to their parents if they come into the mercantile.”

  Michael’s eyes brightened a bit and he replaced his glasses, pushing them up his strong, Roman nose. He brushed his hands through his hair that Rose noticed just touched his collar, one of the waves falling back over his forehead. She shook her head. She was supposed to be thinking about how to get students in school, not about how handsome this man was. A man, no less, who was betrothed.

  Her thoughts turned back to the boys she’d seen by the gate. “Maybe we could find out who they are? I realize it could be challenging, and Tombstone’s growing daily, but maybe if we enlisted everyone we know to help...”

  “I admire your passion, Rose. But I think you’re efforts would just confirm what we’ve spoken about. That not all students want to come to school, and not all parents will allow it.”

  “I have a hard time accepting that,” Suzanne said, her lips pursed.

  “I feel the same.” Rose turned to Michael, his deep sigh telling her he did not agree. Or did he? Maybe she was naive, and he’d seen this happen more than he could argue with. But if that was the case, Tombstone was a different place, and she refused to believe it. “I realize that you have more experience with this type of thing, but I can’t believe that lack of concern exists here in Tombstone.”

  Michael stood, taking a few steps toward the tree as he surveyed the students. He crossed his arms over his chest and turned toward Rose and Suzanne. “I can’t thank the two of you enough for helping me. I bet you didn’t realize how much work it is—and that makes me even more grateful.”

  Rose wondered if he’d read her mind as she wiggled the toes on her aching feet.

  “I have an idea. This whole week will be a long one with all the excitement, and I’ll need to stay after the students leave to keep things organized. As a small gesture of gratitude, I’d like to take you both out on Friday to celebrate our first week, for a late lunch, or at the very least a piece of pie. I have just the place in mind. Bailey’s Restaurant.”

  Rose raised her eyebrows. That was the small restaurant where she’d seen the boy, and the possibility of identifying him and questioning his reasons for not being in school intrigued her. “That sounds lovely. I’d be happy to,” she said, certain that the three of them could sort this all out.

  Suzanne stood and waved to Lucy and Lily again. “That sounds lovely and I appreciate the offer, but I’ll need to get Lucy and Lily home and then to the mercantile to help James.”

  Rose’s stomach flipped. She’d assumed Suzanne would be joining them. Would it be proper for her to visit a restaurant with a man who was promised to another?

  “We will miss you, but I’m sure Miss Archer will find it quite interesting. We can leave right after the last student does.” Michael turned his brilliant smile toward her and she pushed the question from her mind.

  Chapter 21

  On Friday of their first week, Michael closed the door after waving to the final student to leave. Satisfied with a job well done and very happy with the way the first week of school had turned out, he turned to Rose. She looked exhausted, and he felt the same. The week had gone by so fast it was almost a blur, and he looked forward to having a quiet meal at Bailey’s Restaurant. He hadn’t seen any of the boys hanging about, but he thought he knew where he could find at
least one.

  He silently regarded her for a moment as she replaced the books the students had been using on the bookshelf. He’d been impressed with her passion about students being in school, but he couldn’t help but think she was a bit naive when it came to any sort of pervasive “love of learning.” He admired that she had it—but was also aware that, contrary to her opinion, that love wasn’t shared by everyone. Or respected.

  Rose brushed back one of her dark brown ringlets that had escaped. The copper tones shimmered in the sunlight that streamed through the open window, and he noticed that at some point, she’d removed her jacked and had rolled up her white shirtsleeves as well. He chuckled, wondering if rolled-up shirtsleeves actually indicated a hard worker—and likely, it did.

  He shook his head as the thought popped in that he should be hearing from his future wife soon—his future wife! What a strange thought, that this woman—Margery—whom he had never met would soon be his wife.

  He realized his hand was in his vest pocket, his fingers curled around his pocket watch, and he pushed the thought of Margery from his head and crossed over to where Rose was. She’d just placed the final book on the shelf, and he said, “You must be famished. Are you ready to go get something to eat?”

  A flash of uncertainty crossed her face, and she looked a bit uncomfortable. “I’ve been thinking about that. Would it be proper for me to accompany you? You are, after all, to be married soon.”

  His pulse quickened and his brows furrowed in a flash of anger at his predicament. Why shouldn’t he be able to take his volunteer assistant for a celebratory meal? He moved his thoughts from Mrs. Samson quickly, so as not to move on to bad ones as she was the instigator of his current woes.

  His life, for the most part, was still his own, however, and he would not be deterred in taking this lovely young woman out for a harmless piece of pie. Besides, his primary objective was solely for her to meet Sammy, and maybe his father, and then understand the futility of her quest to educate all the children of Tombstone.