Sarah's Heart

by Ginger Simpson

After introductions, Sarah felt a bit more relaxed. Still, the two boys in the back worried her. Horace Givens, the one who’d made the rude suggestion, and his brother, Henry, were the oldest and largest of the group. Their demeanor and sagging postures indicated trouble. She’d already put Horace in place once, but there was no way she could match his size and strength. Henry was smaller, but obviously mimicked his brother. Words of wisdom from her late father rang in her ears. “Don’t ever let the opposition see your fear.”

  “Cross that bridge when you come to it.” She mumbled so no one heard and picked up a sheet of paper from her desk. A nervous smile quivered on her lips. “Children, I’ve prepared a daily schedule, and since reading is the foundation for learning everything, we’re going to start with that. Emily, would you please pass out the primers to those who use them?”

  Watching as the young lady hurried to distribute the books, Sarah readied a pencil to make note of who received one. The seating chart she prepared during introductions already made her feel more organized.

  Emily finished and turned with a smile on her face. “Do you want me to have the younger children take their chairs to the far corner and work with them on reciting their letters? That’s what our other teacher did.”

  “Why yes, Emily. That would be most helpful.” Sarah breathed a sigh of relief and, while the noisy move took place, she made note of those accompanying her newfound helper.

  With everyone settled, Sarah sat and opened her own book, the one she’d found in the desk drawer. She turned to the page with the corner turned down and raised her gaze to the anxious faces before her. “Now, if you’ll all turn to page twenty-two, we’ll begin.” A rustling of pages followed.

  She lifted her eyes and scanned the room. “Horace, would you please read the first paragraph aloud?”

  He remained slumped in his chair, his eyes narrowed. “I aint readin’ no paragraphs.”

  Sarah wasn’t surprised at his response. After all, she’d embarrassed him in front of everyone.

  “How about you, Henry?”

  He sat upright, but looked to his older brother. When Horace shook his head, Henry meekly slid back down in his seat. “I ain’t readin’ nothing neither.”

  Clearly, Horace’s bad attitude influenced his brother. But Sarah saw disappointment on Henry’s face rather than defiance. At least by asking the two, she’d learned something about their relationship; but rather than engage in a war of power, she moved on. Checking her list, she smiled. “Okay, then, Ruby Faye, please….”

  * * *

  Sarah cleared her desk of papers from the morning schedule, sat back and took a deep breath. She’d so enjoyed teaching that the morning flew by. Lunchtime came before she realized it and the children hurried out for recess. Enjoying the respite, she opened her bottom drawer, pulled out the meager lunch she’d packed and munched on her ham sandwich while pondering the first half of the day.

  The morning had gone relatively well, save the continued foot dragging of the Givens boys. The children were clearly at various stages in their academics, but most seemed eager to learn. She thanked her lucky stars for Emily Potts—a godsend. Sarah had never expected twenty-three children to show up, after she’d been told to expect a scant showing because of planting time. Judging from the occupied chairs, it seemed she had a full house already.

  The excitement of the upcoming afternoon dimmed her appetite. Sarah tucked the remainder of her lunch away, rose and walked to the window. The scene outside was typical of what she remembered from her own school days. Some children sat and ate in the shade while others played on the seesaw and swing. A group of girls had joined hands and circled around another in the center, their sing-song chant hardly audible through the glass.

  Beyond the outhouse, she caught a glimpse of Horace Givens and his brother. She pressed closer to the glass and strained to see. Horace stepped aside, his hand raised in a menacing manner over the head of young Curtis Johnson. The youngster tried to walk away, but Horace snagged his arm, wrenching him back. Anger heated Sarah’s blood. “How dare that bully pick on such a small boy?”

  Sarah hurried for the door, hiked her skirts at the stairs, and marched across the yard. “Horace Givens, you release Curtis this instant.”She squared her shoulders and shot him an imperious look.

  Horace glared back. “Whadda you gonna do if I don’t? Give me a whipping?”

  Sarah strode over and placed herself between him and Curtis. “I’m sure you realize that isn’t something I could or would even consider, but I can take other actions. How would your parents feel about learning that their son picked on someone a fraction of his size?” She turned to the frightened little boy behind her. “You go play, Curtis.” Her icy gaze scanned Henry but returned to her biggest challenge. “Well, how would they react?”

  “We don’t have a ma and pa anymore. We live with our grandpap, and he didn’t raise me to be no sissy.”

  A pang of sadness plucked at Sarah’s heart. She knew the heartache of losing parents, but she needed to make him understand his bad behavior would not be tolerated. Planting her hands on her hips, she peered up into his defiant eyes. “I doubt he raised you to be a bully either. If you want to fight, find someone your own size, but make sure there’s a reason for it. It’s a brilliant man who picks his battles wisely.”

  “I can do whatever I want, and you can’t stop me.” Horace held clenched fists at his side. His eyes conveyed anger.

  A little voice inside told Sarah to walk away.

  “Maybe you can get away with being rude and unkind elsewhere.” She turned a deaf ear to reason. “But while you are in my classroom and anywhere around it, you will behave like a gentleman. I will not tolerate anything less. These children,” she gestured to those playing behind her, “come here to learn, not to be frightened by you. If you can’t behave, then leave.”

  Horace took a step forward, his gaze locked with hers in a piercing battle. For a moment, behind the anger, she glimpsed something else, and her fear lessened. But only until his cheeks reddened and his eyes widened to the point of popping. Without a word, he raised both hands and shoved her with all his might.

  Sarah hit the ground with a resounding plop. The fall jarred her teeth and stunned her for a moment. Her backside smarted.

  Horace turned and stormed out of the schoolyard. Henry peered down at her from beneath arched brows, shrugged, then trudged after his brother.

  “You ain’t seen the last of me,” Horace hollered over his shoulder.

  Children scampered to Sarah’s side with Emily surfacing to the forefront. “Are you all right, Miss Collins?”

  Sarah rolled to her knees and stood, brushing dirt from her skirt and trying to hide her embarrassment. “Yes, I’m fine, Emily. You and the other children go back to what you were doing. Recess is almost over.”

  Bemoaning her sore behind, Sarah crossed back to the schoolhouse. She’d expected to have to discipline someone sooner or later, but never once thought she’d be mistreated. Horace’s words played in her mind. The boy was a cannonball, about to explode, and she feared what she’d experienced was just the lighting of the fuse.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  “It was the way he looked at me…as if he wished me dead, that made my heart pound like a hammer against an anvil. For a moment I feared he’d hit me, but instead, he pushed me down.” Sarah lifted the flowered teacup from its saucer and took a sip. Her trembling fingers caused the brew to slosh about.

  Maggie’s eyes widened as she peered around a freshly laundered tablecloth she held in midair. “You mean that ruffian actually shoved you to the ground?”

  “It’s probably my fault.” Sarah shifted in her seat, her buttocks still sore from her hard landing.

  Maggie lifted an inquiring brow. “How do you figger that?” She tucked the middle edge of the red-checked material beneath her chin and folded the corners together. “Don’t sound like you did anything wrong.” She doubled the cloth again and added it to her stac
k.

  “I shouldn’t have pressed Horace. After all, it was my first day.” Sarah’s gaze followed her friend into the hallway where Maggie placed the laundry basket at the bottom of the stairs.

  “Well, if you don’t let them know you’re in control from the beginnin’, then you’re makin’ a big mistake.” Maggie’s muted voice drifted from the other room, but grew louder with her return. She folded her arms and cocked her head. “Besides, I don’t know the Given’s boys by sight, but I’ve run across the grandfather in the mercantile a few times. He’s an ornery old cuss. A little short of manners, I’d say.”

  “Well, he’s certainly taught his grandsons to follow in his footsteps, although I think it’s more Horace than Henry. It appears that the younger of the two doesn’t have a thought of his own.”

  Maggie poured herself a cup of tea and sat across from Sarah. “You just watch out for yourself, young lady. Elijah Woods ruled that schoolroom with an iron fist, but he had the strength and stature to back it up. If Horace Givens causes any more trouble, you let the school board handle it. Promise me.”

  “But, if I….”

  “Sarah!” Maggie’s voice held a scolding tone reminiscent of Sarah’s mother.

  “Oh, all right. I promise. But I saw something more in that boy’s eyes than defiance and hatred. Someone has hurt him badly.”

  Maggie blew on her steaming brew. “You can’t fix everyone, Sarah. Work with those who welcome your help.”

  How ironic that Maggie would mention Sarah’s lot in life. Fixing people seemed to be her number one priority. First trying to heal her parents, and then struggling to save their homestead…nursing Molly, and defending Wolf—the sweet, wonderful man. Maybe Maggie was right. Sarah failed in each of her endeavors, even her latest attempt to insinuate herself into Wolf’s life or change the way others perceived him. How could she possibly help Horace?

  She sighed, lowering her head at unbidden memories of Wolf’s sweet lips. Despite trying to put him out of her mind, her heart still ached for him. “You’re right, Maggie, she mumbled. “Perhaps you should have applied for the teaching job. You seem to be much better at seeing the obvious than I am.”

  Reaching across the table, Maggie patted Sarah’s hand. “You’re thinking about him again, aren’t you?”

  Sarah sat upright. “Who?”

  “Wolf.”

  “No, I’m not. I was just….”

  “You were jes thinkin’ of Wolf. Admit it, Sarah. The way you look when someone mentions his name or stirs a memory speaks more than words. You love the man.”

  Sarah’s lips fluttered in an exhalation of surprise. She closed her eyes and massaged the area between them. “I admit it. But I’m trying hard not to love him.”

  “Why? He’s a good and decent man.”

  Sarah opened tearing eyes and tightened her lips to still their quivering. She took a moment to compose herself. “You know and appreciate him for who he is while others only see someone of mixed blood. His heritage doesn’t matter to me, and I’ve told him that. I believe he refuses to accept my affection because I’m not worthy of him. After all, I left him to die.”

  Maggie’s eyes resembled saucers. “What?”

  Feeling stifled by guilt all over again, Sarah described her first encounter with Wolf. Afterwards, she pulled a hankie from her sleeve and blotted at tears. “When I finally realized what I’d done, there was no way I could tell him.” She paused and blew her nose. “I’d be a fool to believe he’d ever love me after what I did.” Rising, she walked to the window and stared outside. Her stomach rumbled at the delicious aroma wafting from the stove. She clutched her middle to still the noise.

  “Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

  Sarah turned and faced Maggie. “Do you think I’m proud of myself? I had absolutely no problem walking away and leaving him there on the ground. But then he happened along and saved me. How do I repay him for that?”

  Maggie shook her head. “I don’t think Wolf would expect anything in return. That’s the kind of man he is. But you’re bein’ too hard on yourself. After all you’d been through? I think anyone in your place would’ve been leery about savin’ someone they thought might be part of the war party that attacked the wagon train. How could you have known?”

  Like salve on a blister, Maggie words soothed Sarah’s mind and gave her hope. “Do you think he would see it that way?”

  The elder woman laughed. “Wolf’s pretty smart. I’m sure he wouldn’t have toted you all the way here if he was the kind who harbored ill feelings. Lord, knows he’s had plenty a reason to hold a grudge. Besides, I think he’s kinda sweet on you, too.”

  Sarah waved the thought away. “You’re wrong, Maggie. I’ve tried to let him know in so many ways that I want to be more than a friend, but he isn’t interested. He as much as said so.”

  “Pshaw,” Maggie tutted, leaning back in her chair. “If he was in town I’m sure he’d be here. Of course, he’d have some good excuse for the visit, but I’d know the real reason. Just give him some time, dear. When Wolf finds out that you’re goin’ to the dance with Jonathan, he’ll be fit to be tied.” Her tittering jiggled the round belly beneath her apron.

  “Speaking of Jonathan…” Sarah looked around the room. “I haven’t seen him lately. Isn’t this where he usually makes his unexpected appearance?” She chuckled.

  “Oh, he’ll meander in around suppertime, I suppose. He’s out on another one of his land-seekin’ excursions—said not to hold up servin’ on his account, he’d eat when he got back.”

  Sarah heaved a heavy sigh. “Oh Maggie, I’m not sure I should have accepted his invitation to the dance.”

  “I’m glad you did. Why not go and have a good time? A young gal like you needs to dress up and have an evenin’ out once in a while. It’ll do you good. Get you mind off Wolf and….”

  “If it’s such a good idea, why aren’t you going? It’s a pre-harvest celebration…and there’s bound to be some eligible men there.” Sarah smiled and winked.

  “Lordy, unless they’re payin’ for room and board, I ain’t interested be they single or otherwise. I’ve loved one man in my life and, in my opinion, no one can fill his boots.”

  “I didn’t know that. I just assumed you….”

  “You figured I was an old maid who knew nothin’ about romance.” Maggie rose and carried the cups and saucers to the dishpan. She primed the pump then filled the metal container with water, and turned. “I married Hosea Smith nigh onto forty years ago. When he died five years later, I vowed to wed no one else, and I ain’t lookin’.”

  “No one said you had to find a new husband. You could go and mingle with the townsfolk.” Sarah actually liked the idea of having a chaperone.

  “I can do that at the mercantile and church when I go. I’m tired at days end and I’ve never been light on my feet.” She turned back to the pan and began washing dishes. “Besides, I have a business to tend. You can’t run off and leave your guests. I have another two coming in on the evening stage.”

  Sarah stood and yawned, stretching her arms over her head. “All right, you’ve convinced me. I’ll not nag you further. I’m going upstairs and freshen up a bit, but I’ll be down shortly to help with dinner.”

  “No need. There’s a ham in the oven and it’s almost done. I have only to slice up a few tomatoes, some bread and brew a fresh pot of coffee. A light meal seemed like a good idea tonight.”

  Sarah nodded. “Sounds fine to me.”

  She trudged upstairs, more tired than she realized, and plopped across her bed. Rolling onto her back, she starred at the ceiling, juggling the thoughts that weighed heavy on her mind: Horace Givens and going to the dance with Jonathan. Both might well put her in a very uncomfortable position.

  * * *

  Sarah bustled around her room, readying for the pre-harvest gala, and looking for the small combs she often wore in her hair. They matched the dark piping on her emerald dress and were the final accents to
her attire. She searched the armoire, then knelt and fished in the valise stashed on the floor. If only she could recall where she put the blasted things.

  She paused, allowing her thoughts to turn to her first week at school. A smile tugged at her lips. Horace and Henry hadn’t been back, and things went smoothly without them. The other children seemed eager to learn, obeyed her rules, and were a source of joy with their hugs and laughter. She sat back on her heels, her chest swelling with pride at feeling like a real teacher.

  Since chastising Jonathan during his visit to the classroom, it appeared he followed her suggestion and thought before he spoke. He’d been a perfect gentleman, and despite Sarah’s earlier misgivings, she felt positive about accompanying him to the dance. At least for the moment.

  “Oh, there you are.” She eyed ebony edges, pulled the pronged culprits from her bag and with effort, whisked her full petticoats aside and stood. Smoothing her skirt, she returned to the mirror and wiggled the combs into the hair above her ears.

  She tucked an errant strand back into her snood and gave the wispy ringlets framing her face one last twist. Her appearance pleased her, but her choice of escort really didn’t. No matter how she shoveled the manure, that’s all it was. Jonathan was nice enough, but he wasn’t Wolf.

  Her reflection blurred as she drifted back to the time he held her in his arms. As much as she wanted to be in his embrace, it seemed fruitless to waste time wishing. She shrugged off the memory, watching her image sharpen in the mirror once again. After dabbing some sweet-smelling toilet water behind her ears and in the hollow of her throat, she cast a stern look at herself. “Sarah Collins, it’s time to stop acting so pitiful and pining over someone who clearly doesn’t want you. You will go to this dance and have a good time with Jonathan. Don’t make him sorry he invited you.”

  She picked up the reticule she’d purchased the same day she’d bought her dress for the dance. There was nothing but a lace handkerchief inside it, but so many ladies carried the stylish pouches, she wanted to look as fashionable. As she suspended it from her arm, she wondered what one might find inside those belonging to other women. Staying in step with fashion these days was like catching a stagecoach. If you didn’t pay attention, you got left behind.