In Your Arms (Montana Romance)

by Farmer, Merry

  “I am not!” Grover yelped in protest.

  “Grover, is not—” Lily began.

  Hal cut her off with, “Thank you, Miss Singer, I can handle it from here.”

  He tightened his grip on the boy’s arm, dragging him off towards the school door and saying “I should suspend you this time.”

  “Do you see?” Mr. Kuhn shook a pointed finger after them. “Do you see the savagery that those Indians spread wherever they go? It’s a disgrace and should be stopped!”

  He glared from Christian to Michael, finishing with one long sneer for Lily before turning to go. Christian had never been so glad to see the back of a man in his life.

  He blew out a breath and checked on the students playing in the snowy schoolyard. It amazed him how fast children went back to playing after an upset. It would be a heck of a lot longer before their teacher calmed down.

  If you didn’t know what you were looking at with Miss Lily Singer, all you would see would be a beautiful woman with high, proud cheekbones, eyes so dark they could be black, and light brown skin, like coffee with a generous amount of cream. And just like coffee, she was strong enough to keep you on your toes and packed a mighty kick.

  “Grover Turner is trouble,” Christian told her. “His uncles, Franklin and Edsel, were rotten eggs that skipped town a couple of years ago. Just ask Michael.”

  Michael—who had observed the whole altercation in silence—stared at Christian above his glasses as though he would like to remain silent.

  Lily planted her hands on her hips and glared at Christian. “Grover is twelve years old, Mr. Avery, and highly impressionable. You’ve just told him he’ll end up in prison someday. I’ve been trying to tell him he could be a tradesmen or better. Children become what you encourage them to become.”

  “Then who the hell encouraged you to become a loud-mouthed shrew?”

  As soon as the words were out of Christian’s mouth, he regretted them. Although he didn’t regret the splash of color that painted Lily’s beautiful face.

  “I’m so sorry, Miss Singer,” Michael apologized, sending Christian a sideways look meant to kill. “It’s nearly his lunch time, and we shouldn’t take him out of his cage when he’s hungry.”

  To Christian’s surprise, Lily’s mouth softened. She kept her expression neutral, but her eyes glittered. Glittered like she was coming up with ways to kill him in his sleep.

  “I’m concerned, is all,” Christian fell back on what he knew. “I’m concerned that, as misguided as he is, Samuel Kuhn is right. Sturdy Oak’s grandchildren will cause nothing but trouble if they’re coming to school here. That fight—”

  “Was just a fight,” Lily finished. “Boys fight. All boys.”

  “And you don’t think the fact that Red Sun Boy is an Indian has anything to do with that?”

  “Did you get into fights as a child, Mr. Avery?”

  That shut him up. Not only would he have to answer the question “yes”, hearing her call him Mr. Avery—like he was someone’s crotchety uncle—irritated him. Schoolmarms were supposed to be mousy. Evidently Lily Singer had missed that class.

  He tossed a wry grin to Michael, looking for support. Michael stood implacably to the side, failing to take sides, damn him.

  “Look.” He shifted his weight. “Like it or not, I’ve seen things like this get out of hand. Not everyone in this schoolyard or in this town is as progressive as you are. It’s taken Cold Springs years to get used to the idea of black citizens, let alone Indian ones. You need to give people time to ease into the idea.”

  “By keeping anyone with the wrong colored skin behind closed doors?” Her voice rose an octave.

  “By being cautious.” He raised his hands, certain she would throw a punch.

  “Caution never changed anyone, Mr. Avery.”

  He huffed out a breath that misted in the icy air. Stubborn woman.

  “Why don’t I go have a talk with Bo Turner,” he said, “see if we can’t nip this in the bud somehow.”

  Lily’s eyes flared to match the flush on her smooth cheeks. “I have had several meetings with Bo and Rebecca Turner to discuss their son’s behavior,” she said. “They agree that discipline at home and a firm hand at school are what he needs.”

  Christian had a bad idea he knew what discipline at home meant with Bo. “Then I’ll talk to Sturdy Oak to see if we can’t come up with a way to teach his grandkids without putting them in harm’s way here,” he said.

  Lily crossed her arms and scowled at him. “I don’t recall your name being added to the faculty of Cold Springs’s school, Mr. Avery.”

  “So?”

  “So I would appreciate it if you would kindly not meddle with issues arising in my classroom.”

  “This is a schoolyard, not a classroom,” he countered.

  She wasn’t amused. “We are not discussing geography. It is not your place to interfere with school matters.”

  “It’s my place to interfere with anything that will become a problem for my town,” he growled.

  “Oh? Is it your town?”

  “I’ve lived here ten years,” he barked. “How long have you lived here?”

  “Long enough to care about the welfare of Cold Springs’s children, Mr. Avery.”

  Any other day, he would have cheered the vehemence of her statement. Not today.

  “I don’t care who you are, if you suggest that I don’t care about the people of this town—”

  “Enough!” Michael held up his hands to intervene. “You both mean well,” he said. “Let’s stop there a minute.” He paused, giving Christian and Lily enough time to glare at each other.

  The rise and fall of Lily’s chest as she panted in frustration came dangerously close to stamping out Christian’s irritation. She had far too shapely a bosom for a teacher and knew how to use it. Clever woman.

  “The school is new and the town is experiencing growing pains,” Michael reasoned on, drawing his attention back to where it should be. “I’ve got one child already and another on the way, and I’d like to see these issues sorted out before they’re in school.”

  He turned to Christian with his most stoic shopkeeper face. “No one is suggesting you don’t care about Cold Springs, but rein it in a little. She’s right. Every child is entitled to an education, regardless of race.” He switched to Lily. “I mean no disrespect, Miss Singer, but I don’t think it would do any harm if Christian spoke to Sturdy Oak. There could be another solution we haven’t thought of.”

  Lily was silent. The kind of silence that said a woman was up to something. She pressed her pink lips together. The tip of her slender nose was red with cold or fury or both. Any minute now she would crack and let him do what he knew was right for the school and the town.

  Any minute now.

  She stared at him with eyes that could ignite a glacier. Christian’s back itched and his heart beat faster.

  At last she said, “You do what you feel you have to do, Mr. Avery.”

  He let out a breath, his lips twitching in victory. “I will.”

  She nodded. “And I will do what I must.”

  Chapter Two

  The cluster of houses and outbuildings that were home to Sturdy Oak and his family sat nestled in a valley, almost hidden behind the hills a few miles outside of Cold Springs. Lily snapped the reins across the backs of the horses pulling her borrowed wagon, encouraging them to round the last crest. They slipped and struggled in the fresh snow.

  “You should ask Grandfather to let you take the sleigh next week,” young Martha, Red Sun Boy’s cousin, said by her side.

  “By next week the snow may be gone,” Lily answered.

  “Or there may be more,” Martha added sagely.

  Lily smiled. She liked the clever girl. She was a fast learner and a joy to teach. They all were. They were not liabilities.

  Her cheery mood slipped. How dare Christian Avery interfere without even being present?

  They rolled up to the edge of the
cluster of houses and Lily pulled the horses to a stop. As soon as the wagon was still, the half dozen Flathead children in the back scurried down and ran to whichever modest house they called home.

  The snow did little to hide the rundown state of the tiny dwellings. All except the large main house at the end of the row seemed thrown together with greying logs and tiny windows. A few had areas marked off for gardens or coops for chickens, but they were empty in the cold of winter. Thin trails of smoke rose from most of the chimneys.

  Red Sun Boy climbed out last, still silent and sullen from his scuffle at school. The young man who came to greet Lily and take charge of the wagon frowned at the sight of the boy. He swerved from the horses to inspect Red Sun Boy’s wounds.

  “What happened?” he asked.

  “Good afternoon, Two Feathers,” Lily greeted him, climbing down from the wagon. “I’m afraid the boys got into a scuffle at recess today.”

  Two Feathers finished his inspection of Red Sun Boy’s face. “Was it a fair fight?”

  Red Sun Boy shrugged. “Yes.”

  Lily frowned.

  “Did you fight back?” Two Feathers asked.

  “A little,” Red Sun Boy mumbled, glancing to Lily.

  Two Feathers nodded. “Go see mother.”

  Red Sun Boy dashed off without another word.

  “Thank you for bringing them home, Miss Lily,” Two Feathers addressed her, softening his stern expression. “I am sorry for any trouble my brother caused. He is a spirited boy.”

  “He is,” Lily agreed.”

  “Our mother will heal his wounds.”

  Lily did her best to smile. “Thank you.”

  She circled around to the back of the wagon to fetch the satchel of books she’d brought before Two Feathers took the wagon away. He was a bright and handsome young man, too old for school, but not quite a man. It was his mix of western trousers and vest with a buckskin tunic that unsettled her. Not quite from one world, not truly a part of the other. She knew too well how that felt.

  She hugged the books to her chest and took a deep, steadying breath before marching toward the first small dwelling beside the big house. Her anxiety pitched higher as she reached the door. She forced her back straight and her chin up, then knocked on the door with her mittened hand.

  “Come,” a woman said from inside.

  Lily gathered her courage and opened the door.

  “Good afternoon, Snow In Her Hair,” she greeted the woman who stood hunched over a counter, kneading bread.

  “Good afternoon.” Snow In Her Hair nodded. She too wore a combination of western and native clothing. There was nothing unfriendly about the woman’s posture or smile, but Lily felt awkward and small in an instant.

  Three brown-skinned, dark-haired children jumped up from the game they were playing and rushed to greet her.

  “Miss Lily! Miss Lily! What did you bring for us?” The children jumped around her, bubbling with excitement.

  “Books,” Lily told them. A smile spread from her lips to her heart. She handed the bundle over to the oldest of the children, a girl of eight named Meadow. “I hope you don’t mind,” she said to Snow In Her Hair.

  Snow In Her Hair shook her head. “The children need books. You are kind to bring them.”

  “I wish you would let them come to school with the others,” Lily ventured.

  Snow In Her Hair stared from Lily to the children with a stoic expression. “They are not ready for what comes with school.”

  Lily’s heart sank. The children searched through the new titles with awed giggles. They were so happy with so little. Each leather-bound volume was handled carefully and passed from one set of tiny hands to another. Even little Brook, barely two, touched them with reverence. Lily thought of Martha and her joy of learning. She thought of Red Sun Boy’s wounded face. Perhaps these dear ones weren’t ready for what came with school.

  She grasped for something to say, some way to connect with the woman whose house she stood in. Snow In Her Hair had the same dark hair and eyes that she had, the same brown skin, but they were worlds apart. The woman had lived in Montana her whole life. Her life had been a hard one, but it had been filled with family, with love. Family was something Lily knew nothing about.

  “Would you like me to read to you?” She turned to the children for relief from the gaping void inside of her.

  The children whooped in excitement.

  “Of course they would,” Snow In Her Hair said with a smile for her young ones. “The children love when Singing Bird reads to them.”

  Prickles of heat spread from Lily’s face to her gut at the name.

  “Snow In Her Hair,” she began, twisting her mittens in her hands, “I’ve instructed the children to call me Miss Lily.”

  Snow In Her Hair’s expression was flat. “I see.”

  “It’s just that I wouldn’t want to confuse them,” she rushed to explain.

  Snow In Her Hair stared at her. “No, we wouldn’t want any confusion, would we.”

  The silence that followed threatened to swallow Lily whole. Any minute now Snow In Her Hair would start judging. Any minute she would start laughing.

  “Miss Lily, Miss Lily, what does this book say?” Meadow rushed to her, a shiny new volume in her hands.

  Grateful for the interruption, Lily answered, “Ah, this one is called The Jungle Book. It’s a collection of stories about a boy, Mowgli, who was lost to his family and raised by animals in the jungle.”

  “Lost to his family?” Meadow cocked her head to one side, unconvinced.

  “It does sometimes happen,” Lily answered. Her glance flickered to Snow In Her Hair, who had returned to her work. “Sometimes very small children are taken away through no fault of their own and raised in a strange jungle and don’t know who they are.”

  Snow In Her Hair lowered her head.

  “What’s a jungle?” Meadow asked.

  “It’s a place full of trees and dangerous animals, like tigers and snakes.”

  “Ooo!” Meadow squealed. She rushed back to the other children. “It’s about tigers and snakes!” she announced. “Miss Lily and I will read it to you.”

  Lily smiled. She followed Meadow to the corner of the tiny house, near the smoky fire. There were no chairs to sit on, so she sat cross-legged on the floor. Meadow and her siblings cuddled around her, peering at the illustrations as Lily opened the book.

  “The Jungle Book, by Rudyard Kipling,” she began.

  A sense of normalcy settled over her as she read the story aloud. It didn’t matter whether it was reading literature or teaching sums, the act of filling young minds with knowledge both soothed and excited her. She was born for it. In a world that had been at best indifferent to her, the classroom—whether in a school or on the dusty floor of a simple house—was the one place she knew she truly belonged.

  She had been reading for half an hour, Meadow taking turns now and then, when there was a knock at the door.

  “Come,” Snow In Her Hair called from where she had moved to sit and sew.

  The door opened, letting in a gust of frigid air and Christian Avery.

  Lily’s heart beat in double-time. She frowned at the uninvited sensation, at the uninvited guest.

  “Afternoon, Snow In Her Hair. I’ve brought you that liniment for your back from Sadie McGee,” Christian said, holding up a small sack. He wore a gentle smile, so different from the tight lines and hardened planes of his face that Lily was used to seeing that she couldn’t help but stare. His cheeks were pink with cold over the dark stubble of his beard.

  When he noticed Lily sitting with the children, he blinked. Without a scowl he was as handsome as the ladies of Cold Springs continually gossiped about.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked.

  “I….” She fumbled her answer, as if she’d been caught out of bounds with no way to explain herself.

  “Singing Bird drives the children to and from school every day,” Snow In Her Hair explained
, taking the liniment from him.

  Christian stared at her, expression hardening. The kind, handsome man Lily had seen for half a second went back to being the rigid justice of the peace.

  “Is that what all that talk back at the school was about?” he asked. “You’re the person Hal wants to pay to drive the school wagon?”

  “I am not.” She stood, taking little Brook with her. She held onto the toddler as though she was a shield against the whirlwind. “The school wagon is another matter. I drive these children every day independently of the school, for their sakes.”

  “But you don’t live anywhere near here,” Christian countered, then added, “Do you?”

  There was too much curiosity in his eyes, too great a hint of a grin.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked instead of answering.

  Brook clasped her hands around Lily’s neck and plopped her head against Lily’s shoulder.

  Christian opened his mouth, but no explanation followed. His gaze was fixed on her and Brook. The tension in his face relaxed. The faintest hint of a smile touched his lips.

  At last he swallowed and said, “I came to talk to Sturdy Oak, to convince him to keep Red Sun Boy and the others from coming back to the school.”

  Lily’s temper flared. “Why would you do that?”

  “Like I said before, it’s in their best interest. Red Sun Boy was the target of a vicious attack by Grover Turner and his pals at school today,” he added for Snow In Her Hair.

  “It was not an attack,” Lily contradicted him.

  “What do you call it when a boy ends up with a bloody nose?” Christian took a step toward her, planting his hands on his hips.

  “It was a schoolyard fight that got out of hand. I’m not saying it was right,” she rushed on before Christian could interrupt her. “It was unfortunate and the boys involved have been punished.”

  “Punished or no, it will happen again the second the opportunity arises,” Christian said. “Which is why it would be better for all of the Flathead children,” he glanced to Snow In Her Hair, “not to attend the school.”

  “Better for whom, Mr. Avery?” Lily demanded.

  He bristled. “You aren’t listening to a word I say. Today it’s a schoolyard fight, tomorrow someone gets shot in the back.”