Amanda's Beau

by Shirley Raye Redmond

  "Are you saying my son is stupid?" Lancaster asked in a loud, challenging voice. He sat up with rigid attention, glaring.

  Gil did some rapid thinking. He still wasn’t sure what Lancaster wanted. Gil also wondered if Ozzie had told his father about his fight yesterday with Rex Stewart and his punishment afterwards.

  "Ozzie is not stupid. I never said so," Gil insisted. "But he is lazy and inattentive." He paused, allowing the words to sink in. He noted the flicker of insolence in the other man’s hooded eyes. "He can change, of course, with a little effort on his part — and yours. You could encourage him to be the best student he can be. He’s quite good with numbers, you know. Will you take time to encourage him to work harder?"

  Lancaster practically growled an inaudible response. Gil rose to his feet. He’d had enough of the sulky farmer. It was obvious to him Lancaster didn’t want to talk about Ozzie at all. He’d come to intimidate the new teacher. Or try to.

  "Mr. Lancaster, I need to get back to work. I have lessons to prepare for tomorrow."

  Lancaster flushed as he hauled himself to his feet. He surveyed Gil coldly. With a low snarl, he said, "I’m only going to say this once — if you ever switch my boy, Gladney, you’ll be sorry. That’s all I’m gonna say. Don’t you ever switch my boy."

  "No one except the school board tells me what I can or cannot do in my own classroom, Mr. Lancaster," Gil replied in a low, level tone. He could feel the anger surging through his veins like a pulse.

  They were still standing in a face-off when Doctor Morgan plodded up the steps and entered the schoolroom. Removing his hat, Morgan made his way toward them, asking in a cautious tone, "Am I interrupting? I need to speak with you, Gil." He cocked an eyebrow as he cast a curious glance at Lancaster.

  "You’re not interrupting, Doc," Gil assured him. "Mr. Lancaster was just leaving. Thank you for coming in, Mr. Lancaster." But he didn’t offer to shake hands with the man. Gil wondered if the doctor had noticed.

  "You remember what I’ve told you!" Lancaster called back over his shoulder when he got to the door.

  Gil remained silent. It was obvious the man was determined to have the last word. He’d let him. A man had to pick his battles, Gil knew. He couldn’t fight them all.

  "What was that all about?" Doctor Morgan asked after Lancaster strode off.

  Moving away from his desk, Gil came forward to speak with the doctor. "He said he wanted to talk about his son’s academic performance. But what he actually wanted, I think, was to see if I’m the sort of man he can intimidate." He shrugged.

  Doctor Morgan flashed him a knowing glance. "If you were intimidated, Lancaster will be back here to do it over and over again. So watch yourself. I know the type."

  Gil nodded. "So do I. Now what can I do for you, Doc? I hope you’re not here to warn me about a scarlet fever epidemic or a virulent outbreak of head lice."

  "No." The doctor chuckled. "I’m here about something far more pleasant. I’m getting up a nut picking party for Saturday and want to invite you to come along. The Snow family and the Cordovas are coming. I’ve invited Rex Stewart and his pretty aunt too." He arched an inquiring eyebrow.

  "How nice." Gil couldn’t help breaking out with a grin. "But will Miss Dale be able to get away? She has her hands full, I know, with her sister and the baby."

  The doctor nodded. "My wife has offered to sit with them while we pick piñons. Say you’ll come."

  "I will," Gil agreed. "Thanks for inviting me." The opportunity to visit with Amanda again was one he could not pass up, even though he didn’t care for nuts in the least.

  "Good man." The doctor grabbed Gil’s hand, and shook it with enthusiasm.

  ****

  Amanda was up before dawn on Saturday, eagerly looking forward to the day’s outing, mainly because Gil Gladney was coming. She put coffee on to boil and made cinnamon rolls for breakfast. The night before, she’d made dozens of biscuits because Doc Morgan told her she should bring them for the picnic lunch. Raiding Ella’s chifforobe for something suitable to wear, Amanda finally decided on a dark gray tweed skirt and an emerald-green flannel shirtwaist, along with a heavy shawl. She hadn’t brought cold weather clothes with her when she’d come up from Las Cruces, as she hadn’t expected to be here so long. Amanda knew Ella wouldn’t mind. After dressing, she coiled her hair in a simple braided coronet and pinched her cheeks for color.

  Rex was just as excited as she was and hurried through his chores in record time, taking a kerosene lamp with him to see his way in the dark. When he returned to the kitchen with two large baskets filled to the brim with eggs, and Bonita scampering at his heels, Amanda found herself hoping the chickens would produce like this for weeks to come.

  The doctor and his wife arrived just as Amanda had finished feeding Minnie. "I thought I might catch up on my knitting," Mrs. Morgan said with a quick smile. She showed Amanda a large canvas bag crammed with balls of yarn and needles and then, placing it on the floor, held out her short, thin arms for the baby.

  Amanda, who found it hard to imagine this energetic little woman sitting still long enough to knit anything, said, "That’s a good idea, Mrs. Morgan." She carefully placed Minnie in the woman’s outstretched arms and urged her to help herself to coffee and rolls.

  The Snows rattled up in their wagon with the Cordova family close behind. When Gil arrived on horseback, Amanda felt a pang of disappointment. He wouldn’t be riding in the back of the wagon with them after all. She’d been looking forward to talking with him about the book he’d loaned her. But then, she would be happy to talk with him at length about anything at all. When he left his mount tied to the porch post, and climbed into the back of the Snows’ wagon, her heart lifted. There were bales of straw in the back for seating. Jerry passed out extra saddle blankets because the early morning air was quite chilly. Gil helped Sammy and his sisters into the back of the wagon. He reached out a hand to Rex, who ordered a whimpering Bonita to stay at the house. Gil helped the doctor into the wagon and then last of all, Amanda.

  "Up you come," he said, grabbing both of her hands and pulling her in. His hands were warm, his grip firm. His casual touch sent a tingle through her already shivering body. For a brief second, they stood close together while she caught her balance in the back of the wagon. Bashfully, she kept her gaze fixed on the scuffed toes of her boots, but she could feel his warm breath on her flushed face.

  "Thank you," Amanda said. Her voice sounded hoarse. She noticed he was watching her, his blue eyes twinkling with laughter and something else she couldn’t readily define.

  "My pleasure," he replied. Amanda felt certain he meant it.

  Their early morning journey was no more than eight miles. Doctor Morgan entertained the youngsters with boisterous riddles and jokes. There was no time for a private conversation, but Amanda didn’t care. She was simply happy to be along, seated next to Gil. She enjoyed the sound of his laughter, the lines crinkling at the corner of his eyes when he smiled, and his clean, manly scent. Sometimes, when Mr. Snow hit a bump, her arm or leg would jostle against Gil’s. He felt surprisingly warm despite the cold bite in the early morning air. She found herself wishing she could cuddle up against him.

  As if reading her thoughts, Gil leaned closer and said, "Are you cold, Miss Dale? Would you like another blanket?" His warm breath tickled her ear. Before she could answer, he whipped the blanket off his lap and flung it around her shoulders, over her heavy shawl.

  Amanda couldn’t bring herself to say thank you again. She always seemed to be saying thank you, but it was like putting a period at the end of a sentence or ending a conversation before it had become quite interesting. She wished she could say something witty and clever instead. Unexpectedly, an idea popped into her head.

  "I wonder what the long-ago residents who lived in the ruins did on cold days like this, before there were woolen blankets, I mean?" she said.

  "A good question, Miss Dale." The look of approval on Gil’s handsome face made Amanda’s he
art leap and her pulse beat a little faster. "They had animal skins, of course. Various ragged remnants have been found. They made blankets from turkey feathers too."

  Overhearing the conversation, Rex blurted out, "Maybe your friend Mr. Phillips will find one, if he comes."

  "Maybe he’ll find gold nuggets or a Spanish sword with gemstones in the hilt," Jerry added hopefully.

  Gil leaned closer to Amanda, saying with a wry grin, "Here we go again."

  She laughed. How delightful was the tickling sensation of his breath upon her cheek. A small, cautionary voice at the back of her mind warned her not to indulge her daydreams about Gil Gladney. But she refused to listen. Today she intended to indulge to her heart’s content.

  "Do you think he will come to see the ruins for himself?" she asked. "Or will he send someone else to examine them first?"

  "Actually, I’ve already had a telegram informing me he is on his way," Gil replied. "I’m expecting him any day now."

  "Who’s this?" Doctor Morgan inquired. Gil explained.

  "Where will he stay?" Amanda asked.

  "With me, I think. Nate is used to roughing it outdoors in a canvas tent, so sharing my quarters, no matter how small, will seem like a luxury."

  "Can we show him the skeletons we found?" Rex asked. He leaned forward eagerly. "Do you think he’ll let us work with him to search for more?"

  "No," Gil said, smiling at the boy’s apparent disappointment. "Besides, you’ll be in school while Mr. Phillips is working in the field."

  "You must be looking forward to his visit." Amanda tugged the blanket more tightly around her shoulders.

  "I am. I haven’t seen him since I moved out here to New Mexico territory. I’ve missed him."

  "How long do you think he’ll stay?" she asked.

  Gil shrugged. "I can’t say, but there’s one thing I know for certain. He’s going to make an impression when he gets here." With nod and a grin, he added, "Nate is a nonpareil."

  "What’s that?" Jerry Snow asked, wrinkling his freckled nose.

  "It means the man has no equal," Doctor Morgan spoke up. "He’s so special no one else can match him. Isn’t that right?" he asked, turning to Gil.

  Gil nodded. "Nate Phillips will blow into town like a tornado or a blizzard, and nobody will be able to talk about anything else."

  "I can hardly wait to meet this extraordinary gentleman," Doctor Morgan put in.

  As Gil went on to regale the doctor with some of Nate Phillips’ archeological escapades, Amanda tipped her face toward the sun, watching the early morning rays grow brighter, stretching long, slender fingers of light across the landscape. She couldn’t imagine what sort of man Gil Gladney’s friend might be nor did she believe he was as special as Gil proclaimed. Who could be? It was just his fondness for his childhood friend talking. Amanda guessed Mr. Phillips would be a lot like Gil, which was quite good enough, as far as she was concerned.

  When they finally reached a location with a cluster of piñon trees, Doctor Morgan called for the wagons to halt. Everyone clambered out. Mrs. Snow and little Martha passed out the pails. Doctor Morgan showed Amanda the small pebble-sized nuts that had fallen to the ground under the trees. Soon everyone was bending over and picking up piñon nuts to fill their pails. Mr. Cordova placed a wagon sheet under a tree. He and Gil shook the tree as hard as they could. The nuts still in the cones fell to the sheet, and everyone started picking again.

  Amanda made her way over to Rex and said, "I feel a little bit like the chickens at home—peck, peck, peck. You don’t have a lot of nuts in your bucket," she observed.

  "I don’t even like piñon nuts," Rex confessed. "Mama once used them in a cake and that was all right, I guess. I only like peanuts."

  "I’ve never tried a piñon nut before," Gil said, striding forward. He gave his bucket a shake, pouring most of the contents into Rex’s pail. The boy shrugged. Gil chuckled. "But I don’t like nuts much in the first place, so someone else can have my share."

  "Doctor Morgan will be happy to hear that," Amanda said. "He loves piñon nuts. This outing was his idea, you know." In a breathless rush, she added, "I’ve been reading Ben-Hur. It’s such a good book. I try to read a chapter every night before bedtime."

  Gil’s eyes twinkled. "You’re more dedicated than some of my pupils," he told her. "How far into the story are you?"

  "I just finished reading the part about Ben-Hur meeting the sheik who owns the beautiful horses, and he offers to race them against the Romans in the coliseum," she told him. "It made me think about the horses you want to breed some day."

  "You remembered?" he asked, arching a brow.

  Amanda started to say, I’ve remembered everything you’ve ever told me, but decided against it. She would certainly sound like a forward female and didn’t want to give him the wrong impression. "Yes, I remember. I’m hoping you’ll get that ranch of yours sooner than later."

  "So do I," he replied. "But I won’t be raising Arabian stallions like the ones in the book."

  "And no chariot racing in your future either, I guess," she said lightly.

  Gil laughed. "No, not hardly."

  "You two quit your gabbing over there, and come for lunch," Doctor Morgan called out, waving them over to where he’d built a small campfire. "Everybody come eat."

  Gil took Amanda by the elbow and led her over to join the others. Her entire arm tingled at his touch. He walked so close to her side, she wondered if he could hear her heart beating. Edgy with nervous excitement, she felt certain she wouldn’t be able to eat a bite. But Mrs. Cordova had boiled a large pot of coffee, and the rich aroma awakened Amanda’s appetite. The hearty repast included sliced ham, Amanda’s biscuits, goat cheese, a large pot of red chili cooked with bits of pork, garlic, and oregano, and fresh tortillas. There were also sugar cookies, called bizcochitos, laced with anise seed, and spicy apple turnovers, a jug of foamy milk, and another of sweet, ginger tea.

  After the meal, Doctor Morgan and Gil poured the nuts into old flour sacks, dividing them up between each family represented. Amanda requested a smaller portion, while Gil declined his share altogether. When the fire had been extinguished and the leftover picnic fare and dirty dishes stashed away, everyone piled into the wagons once again.

  As Amanda settled herself on a bale of straw next to Rex and across from Gil, she felt a sharp stab of guilt. Not once during the outing had she thought about Ella or Minnie. I’ve been so selfish, she silently agonized. Being in the exhilarating company of Gil Gladney had sent all ordinary thoughts and responsibilities out of her head. She needed to rein in her wild emotions. Nothing good could come from allowing herself to fall head-over-heels in love with the handsome schoolteacher. He could not afford a wife. Even if he could, and even if he chose Amanda to fill the privileged position, she would not be able to accept it. Ella needed her. So did Minnie and Rex. Their needs must always come first, before her desires. If there was one thing she’d learned from her parents, it was duty came first, always.

  Lost in her own tormented thoughts, Amanda didn’t realize a lively game of "Name the Best" was going on until Rex, sitting next to her, jabbed her with his elbow. "Aunt Amanda, it’s your turn. Jerry wants to know what you like best, apple pie or raisin pie?"

  Amanda glanced from Rex to Jerry and then at the other faces regarding her with expectant expressions. "I like pumpkin empanadas best — the kind Sammy’s mother makes," she answered, smiling at Sammy. The young boy rewarded her with a toothless grin.

  Everyone laughed, except for Jerry, who cried, "No fair, no fair! That doesn’t count."

  One of the Cordova girls asked Gil, "Mr. Gladney, what do you like best? Brown eyes or blue?"

  Everyone watched Gil, waiting for his answer.

  "Speak out, man. Brown eyes or blue?" Doc Morgan repeated.

  Gil fixed his gaze on Amanda and replied with certainty, "I like brown eyes best, most definitely brown."

  Amanda felt her face grow warm. She flinched when Rex jabbed her
in the ribs with his elbow again.

  Chapter Six

  On Sunday morning, Gil sat restlessly in the church pew, his Bible unopened on his lap. He didn’t pay attention to a word the preacher said from the pulpit. Instead, he thought about how much he would have enjoyed planting a kiss on Amanda Dale’s pretty pink cheek yesterday when they sat next to one another in the back of the wagon. A kiss on both cheeks. Her lips. He hadn’t done so, of course. But still, something special had passed between them when they’d exchanged that long, searching glance. He’d seen it in her eyes. It was a recognition of sorts, an understanding. He felt certain he hadn’t imagined it.

  The pastor’s words snapped Gil out of his romantic reverie. "If anyone does not provide for his relatives, and especially for his immediate family, he has denied the faith and is worse than an unbeliever." The pastor went on to explain the passage from first Timothy, chapter five, verse eight. The words of the sermon penetrated Gil’s thoughts in a painful way, like salt applied to an open wound. Here was his problem in a nutshell. He couldn’t provide for a family, not now. How foolish to think he and Amanda Dale could be more than friends.

  Sure, he was smitten. Gil would admit it. But it could go no further. He had no home to offer her. While his nest egg was growing, there was not enough yet to buy land or breeding stock, let alone a house for a wife and children. For the longest time, his fondest dream had been to own a sprawling ranch and breed horses. Lord willing, the dream would come true one day soon. Then he’d met Amanda. The dream was the same, but now the focus had changed. Because he couldn’t provide for her like the Good Book said, he shouldn’t even contemplate a possible future with her until he was able to do so.

  Instead, he needed to keep his mind on the task at hand: teaching the village youngsters to read, write, do their arithmetic, and strengthen their moral fiber. He wanted the school board to renew his contract in the spring. Some disgruntled parent, like Oz Lancaster, might convince them to hire another female teacher, as women were cheaper to employ. So it wasn’t a sure thing he’d be offered a new contract in the spring. Now, Gil had to admit he didn’t want to leave. He liked the village and was fond of his pupils. There was considerable land for sale in this part of the territory — land good for ranching, when he was ready and able to make a purchase. And of course, Amanda Dale lived here too.