No, the McAllisters in general were much fairer. Danica had let her tan fade, and her eyes were hazel instead of the black and brown that tended to dominate the Wilcox clan, but her hair was still as sooty as Jeremiah’s own. “That’s true enough, Mr. Wilcox,” she said. “I’m one of the Landons. I truly am from St. Louis, and Eliza Prewitt is my real name.”
He didn’t say anything, but only stood there, seeming to consider her. It was so hard not to flinch under that steady black gaze. She was acutely conscious of so many details about him — the long, elegant nose and high cheekbones, the muted dark green brocade of his waistcoat, even the stickpin of carved jet in the cravat at his throat. As Clara had said, he was very handsome.
And scary.
“I don’t know of any clan that would allow an unmarried young woman to venture alone so far from her family’s territory, particularly without asking for permission first. Perhaps you would like to explain yourself?”
No, she wouldn’t, not really. But she’d cooked up a story precisely for this eventuality, so she knew she’d have to trot it out. “The advertisement for the teacher ran in the St. Louis papers. I suppose Mrs. Marshall and the other trustees were casting their net wide to make sure they would — would have a good pool of candidates. I saw the advertisement and applied without my family knowing anything about it.”
He didn’t blink. “Now, why would you do that, Miss Prewitt?”
“My — my father wants me to marry a cousin I don’t much care for, and he refuses to listen to my concerns on the matter. So I decided the best thing to do was to run away.”
“All the way to Arizona Territory? That seems rather drastic, don’t you think?”
“You wouldn’t think it drastic if you’d met my cousin.”
Jeremiah smiled then, the laugh lines crinkling around his eyes. It was sort of amazing what that smile did to his face, because he instantly transformed from good-looking but scary to downright drop-dead gorgeous.
And if that isn’t the creepiest thing ever to be thinking about your great-whatever-granduncle….
He said, “Still, quite a bold step. If you’ll forgive me for asking, why the delay in your arrival in Flagstaff? If you truly were attempting to get away, I would have thought you’d be on the first train out of St. Louis once you received the acceptance letter from the trustees here.”
Damn. That wasn’t an angle she’d considered before he asked about it. Thinking furiously, she said, “Well, that was because my father found out what I was planning. He had clan members, elders, watching me day and night.”
“So how did you make your escape?”
“I — well, after a week or so, he began to have some of my cousins keeping guard on the house, since the elders were needed elsewhere. My cousin Mary and her brother Edward were sympathetic to my plight, so one night they smuggled me out of my room and down to the train station. That is how I got away.”
“How very enterprising of them. I hope neither of them faced any repercussions because of their role in aiding your escape?”
“I — I don’t know,” Danica said, hoping she looked appropriately concerned about these nonexistent “cousins” of hers. “I suppose the elders might have given them a talking-to. But once I was gone, what could they do about it?”
“Besides follow you out here to bring you home?”
“Oh, I don’t think they would do that.”
“And why not?” His eyes narrowed; the smile was quite gone by now. Clearly, Jeremiah Wilcox did not look too thrilled at the prospect of a possible horde of angry warlocks descending on Flagstaff to bring their wayward clan member home.
“Well, because — ” She floundered for a few seconds, because she really couldn’t think of a good reason. Yes, the witch clans tended to stay in their own territories, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t venture forth when extenuating circumstances arose. And she supposed going after a runaway daughter might be one of those extenuating circumstances. Widening her eyes and attempting to look as guileless as possible, she said, “Because my cousin would think me ruined, just for coming all this way without a chaperone, and so there wouldn’t be much reason to pursue me, would there?”
“I should think there would be a good many reasons,” Jeremiah replied, and something about the way his gaze lingered on her face made Danica go cold inside. He couldn’t really be looking at her like that…could he?
Well, why not? It wasn’t as if he had any idea who she was, except a young unattached witch who’d suddenly popped up in his territory.
Lovely.
“My cousin Alfred is quite taken with notions of propriety,” she said, in as prim a tone as she could manage.
Jeremiah flashed her another one of those brilliant smiles. “Well, Miss Prewitt, I think you’ll discover that out on the frontier, we’re not quite as rigid about such things. But I thank you for telling me the truth. You may consider yourself safe here. Mrs. Wilson will take excellent care of you at her boarding house, and I’d like to formally extend to you the protection of the Wilcox clan.”
That was quite a proposal to make, and not one that the head of any clan would offer lightly. It meant they would be compelled to come to her aid, should she need it, and that she would be treated as a family member in any witch-related matters.
Of course, she actually was a Wilcox, and so was due that sort of consideration because of her birthright, but obviously Jeremiah didn’t know about any of that…and couldn’t.
This was getting complicated.
“Th-thank you, Mr. Wilcox,” she managed. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your kind offer, especially when I am trespassing here — ”
“You’re not trespassing,” he broke in, but gently. “You’ve come here to teach our children.” His gaze sharpened somewhat. “You do know how to teach school, I assume?”
“Oh, yes,” she lied. All those children she’d seen in church looked well-behaved enough. And she’d always been an excellent student. How hard could it be?
If he detected that massive prevarication, he didn’t give any sign of it. “Well, then, we should all get on famously. But let me take you back to your boarding house. I should think you’d want to be rested for your first day tomorrow.”
This time, he did offer his arm, and Danica knew it would be horribly rude to refuse it after the kindness he had just shown her. She looped her own arm through his, and let him guide her back to Mrs. Wilson’s house. The whole time, she was conscious of the curious stares of the town’s inhabitants as they passed by. They had to be wondering who she was, and what she was doing in the company of Jeremiah Wilcox.
Then again, she was beginning to wonder the same thing.
9
Thank God Mrs. Marshall was so very organized, or Danica might have wanted to run back to the twenty-first century after that first day of school. To have to stand in front of twenty-one pairs of curious eyes and act like she knew what she was doing…it would have been torture if she’d been forced to truly wing it. But Mrs. Marshall had left behind detailed notes on what needed to be taught that week, and had lined up all the textbooks on Danica’s desk so she wouldn’t have to go hunting for them in the bookcase.
True, at dinner the night before, she had discussed the school somewhat, saying that they’d divided the classrooms by age, and so Danica would have the younger set, ranging from six to ten, and then Mrs. Marshall would teach the older students, the eldest of whom was seventeen. Danica was somewhat relieved to hear that. Having to ride herd on a bunch of six- and seven-year-olds sounded scary, but not as scary as pretending to be an authority figure to kids who were only five or six years younger than she was.
But Mrs. Marshall had seemed more interested in Danica’s talk with Jeremiah Wilcox than going into any great detail about the curriculum. Of course Danica couldn’t tell her the truth, so she fumbled her way through saying that Mr. Wilcox only wanted to welcome her to Flagstaff, and for her to let him know if there was anything s
he needed.
“That was very polite of him,” Mrs. Marshall said, but her gaze was frankly curious, as if she guessed there was something Danica wasn’t telling her.
You have no idea, Danica thought.
Luckily, though, Mrs. Marshall didn’t seem inclined to presume on their short acquaintance by pursuing the matter further, and she shifted to the much less fraught topic of the weather, and how “Eliza” would find it quite different from St. Louis.
“Oh, the snow we get sometimes!” she exclaimed. “But luckily, it is only a few blocks from Mrs. Wilson’s place to the schoolhouse, and the men do a good job of clearing the main streets so we can get around.”
Danica hoped sincerely that she would be long gone from here before the first snows appeared, but the weather in Flagstaff could be kind of crazy. She remembered several times when they had been hit by snowstorms well before Halloween. Recalling those events, she thought of the one shawl she’d brought with her and made a mental note to stop in at the general store sometime this week to see what she could get to beef up her meager cold-weather wardrobe.
But at least the topic of Jeremiah Wilcox had been dropped, and that was the most important thing.
Now, after spending six hours teaching everything from arithmetic to geography to the planets in the solar system — but not Pluto, she fiercely reminded herself, since it hasn’t been discovered yet — she felt like she wanted to fall over from exhaustion. Not because any of the children had acted out. They were actually far better behaved than she had expected. The only real incident had been the frog that escaped Clay Wilcox’s pocket and jumped all over the room before Danica could shoo it out the door, a task accompanied by the shrieking laughter of the children.
Well, all the children except Jacob Wilcox. He’d sat quietly as his desk, watching the commotion through black eyes eerily like his father’s. Thinking about it later, when she had a chance to catch her breath, Danica thought his behavior did seem rather strange, but he was a solemn little boy, answering correctly when called on, but certainly not volunteering anything. Maybe it was simply that he took his position as the next primus seriously, and so didn’t want to join in with the antics of the other children.
Some people might have said he missed his mother, but Danica knew that couldn’t be right. Nizhoni had died when Jacob was just a baby. But hadn’t Jeremiah remarried twice before both those wives met violent ends, and he finally realized that Nizhoni’s dying ravings weren’t ravings at all, but a curse that would haunt the family for generations?
Reflecting on those tragedies, Danica thought that maybe Jacob had a pretty damn good reason for being such a sober little guy.
Even though she wanted to go straight back to the boarding house and collapse face first on her bed — standing all day in a corset, high-heeled boots, and a ten-pound dress was not for the faint of heart — she knew she needed to stop in at Mrs. Marshall’s room first to give a report on her first day at the Flagstaff school. When she got there, though, she paused at the doorway, because she could see the other woman was occupied, talking earnestly to a tall sandy-haired boy who didn’t look that much younger than Danica herself.
“Yes, I understand that the mill pays two dollars a day,” Mrs. Marshall said. “But you could command a good deal more than that if you finished your education.”
The boy shrugged. “Money’s money now, Mrs. Marshall, and they’re hiring. My ma’s got another baby on the way, and my pa says it’s time I helped out.”
Mrs. Marshall’s shoulders slumped. “Very well, Daniel. I understand that you need to contribute to the family. But if you could try to keep up with your reading — ”
A smile that showed a set of very white, crooked teeth. “Yes’m. I’ll do my best. Thanks for all you’ve done.”
And that seemed to be the end of the conversation, because he headed for the door, forcing Danica to step out of his way. He shot her an admiring grin before sauntering off toward the street.
“Does that happen often?” she asked, coming inside as Mrs. Marshall was wearily stacking the books on her desk.
“More often than I’d like. If it’s not the mills luring them away, it’s the ranches. I suppose they don’t see the value in book learning if they’re going to be handling a saw all day, or sitting on a horse.” She shrugged, then asked, “And how did everything go today?”
“Just fine,” Danica replied. “Except for the frog Clay Wilcox had hidden in his pocket deciding it wanted to explore the schoolroom.”
“Oh, was that commotion I heard over there earlier this afternoon? I almost came over to check, but it sounded as if you got them quieted down quickly enough.”
Thank God Mrs. Marshall had held off. It would have been too embarrassing to be bailed out by her fellow teacher on her very first day of school.
“Yes, I was able to shoo it out the door before all he — well, before the children got too out of hand.” Damn, that was close. Danica had a feeling the older woman wouldn’t exactly be thrilled to hear her new teacher saying “hell” like it was no big deal.
If Mrs. Marshall had noticed the near-slip, she didn’t mention it. “It sounds as if you did very well, Miss Prewitt. My advice now would be to go home and have some tea, and rest as best you can. You’ll have to do that all over again tomorrow.”
Well, hopefully without the frog. Although the next day it could be a snake. Not that Danica was afraid of snakes, but she could only imagine that trying to chase one down while wearing a bustle skirt would be even more difficult than catching a frog.
“Oh, I will,” she said. “But I thought I’d go over to Brannen’s general store first. There are a few things I’d like to get, now that I’ve settled in a bit.”
Mrs. Marshall nodded. “Well, enjoy your shopping, then. I need to get home to make sure my boys are doing their chores. I sent them on ahead, because Daniel needed to talk to me, but William will get distracted, I’m afraid.”
She sounded exasperated, and Danica couldn’t really blame her. She couldn’t imagine having to teach all day and then have to ride herd on two young boys, all without any assistance at home.
After murmuring something noncommittal, Danica said her goodbyes and headed over to San Francisco Street. The wind had picked up, blowing down from the San Francisco Peaks, and she thought her decision to buy some sturdier outerwear was beginning to sound like a pretty good idea, even though her feet ached and she would have killed for jeans, a T-shirt, and some tennis shoes right about then.
The streets weren’t too crowded, mostly because the millworkers wouldn’t get off shift until six, and a lot of the housewives were probably beginning to fix dinner and wait for their children to come home from school. Even so, there were several horses tied up to the hitching post outside Brannen’s general store, both looking a little dusty, as if they’d just come into town from riding one of the cattle or sheep ranches on Flagstaff’s borders.
Danica opened the door and went in. The interior of the store smelled of warm pinewood and coffee and something else she couldn’t quite place, something sharp and aromatic. Two men in sheepskin coats stood off to one side, inspecting a set of knives that Mr. Brannen had laid out on the counter. A third man, his back to the door, was at the far end of the shop, his head bent over something, although Danica couldn’t see what it was.
“Why, Miss Prewitt!” Clara called out from behind the counter. “What brings you in?”
Oh, damn. Danica had almost forgotten that her housemate worked here. She was really too tired for Clara’s chattiness, but since she’d already been spotted, there wasn’t much she could do about it now.
“I was hoping you might have a heavier winter cloak,” she began, stepping farther into the store.
“Oh, we have several,” Clara replied, looking eager. It was probably a lot more interesting for her to show clothes to Danica than farm implements or cooking utensils to the men and women who usually came into the shop. “Black, or brown, or we have a
nice dark green.”
“May I see the black one and the green one?” It couldn’t hurt to look at both. Lord knows she’d brought enough money that she could afford a couple of cloaks, and more. The thought of having to cycle through the three daytime dresses she’d brought with her for possibly weeks didn’t sound very appealing, and she added, “Do you have any ready-made clothing besides the cloaks?”
Appearing startled by the request, Clara said, “I’m afraid not. That is, we have some work shirts and trousers for men, but you’d need to go to Mrs. Adams, the dressmaker on Birch Avenue, for something for yourself. We do have a nice selection of fabrics.”
Of course it couldn’t be that easy. Danica noticed that Clara wore the same warm brown dress trimmed in black that she’d had on the day before, so clearly people here weren’t too concerned about recycling their wardrobes. But if this Mrs. Adams was as fast as Jackie, her twenty-first-century counterpart, had been about making up some new gowns, then the wait shouldn’t be too bad. Her research had already told her that the sewing machine had been in use for decades by this point; it wasn’t as if Mrs. Adams would have to construct Danica’s new gowns by hand.
“The fabrics are over there,” Clara added helpfully, pointing to the far wall, near where the one man still stood at the counter.
“Thank you, Clara.” Danica headed to the spot her housemate had indicated, at the same time hoping the man standing there wouldn’t be too much in the way. These damn bustle dresses did take up a good deal of space, and she wasn’t anywhere close to being an expert in managing hers.
As she approached the section where bolts of fabric had been set on the wooden shelves in neat stacks, the third man in the shop looked up suddenly.
Bright blue eyes met hers.
Oh, my God. Danica stopped suddenly, aware that she was staring, but also unable to tear her eyes away from him. He did not look that much different from the last time she’d seen him, since he now wore the same long black coat and high black boots. Today, though, he did have on a waistcoat in a deep steel blue, and a black puff tie fastened with a gold stickpin completed the ensemble.
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