Tarah's Lessons

by Tracey V. Bateman

  “Well, that’s no wonder, either.” Tarah’s voice rose. “Honestly, Anthony. The man drinks away any pittance of money he can dig up and lives off the charity of others.”

  “No one is so far gone that the hand of God can’t reach him, though.”

  Tarah stopped in her tracks and glared up at him. “Anthony Greene, don’t you defend that monster to me. I’d like to reach out my hand with a nice big skillet and use it over his head! That might be the only way to knock some sense into him.” Without waiting for a response, she stomped to the wagon, untied Abby, and mounted. “Good-bye, Anthony, Louisa. I can ride the rest of the way home alone.” With that, she turned her horse and rode away in a cloud of dust.

  Anthony watched her go. The image of the tiny young woman taking on a man like Jenkins filled his mind, and he chuckled to himself. It would serve the old drunk right if Tarah went after him.

  “Anthony, I really must be going home.” Louisa’s clipped voice broke through his thoughts.

  “Coming.” Still smiling to himself, Anthony climbed into the wagon and headed the horses toward town. “All set?”

  With her back perfectly straight, Louisa jerked her chin and set her lips into a grim line. All signs she was more than a little put out with him.

  Rather than feeling distressed by her anger, Anthony felt a sense of relief that she wouldn’t be chattering the entire ride into town. Odd how all her ramblings and flighty ways had once appealed to him. Now they were nothing more than irritations. Especially when she grabbed his arm and exclaimed over his strength.

  Even as the thought came to him, so, too, did the image of Tarah’s wide, luminous eyes and full lips. His mind wrapped around the memory of her slight form in his arms, and the way she had taken a dirty little girl under her wing, determined to do whatever she could to see the child had a chance.

  Lord, this is the kind of wife a preacher needs. Someone with a heart of compassion. Of course, it probably wouldn’t be a good idea for her to actually follow through with that skillet. Perhaps You could allow her the grace to extend her mercy to include the entire Jenkins family.

  ❧

  “You should just see the place, Pa.” Tarah filled Abby’s trough with hay and gave her a pat on the neck. “Mr. Jenkins has let it become so run down I almost didn’t recognize it. Remember how Mrs. Garner used to keep it up and plant flowers all around the house? She must be rolling over in her grave about now.”

  Pa nodded as they walked abreast of each other toward the barn door. He closed and latched the door behind them. Pulling Tarah close, Pa steered her toward the house. “I’ve heard he’ll do about anything for a drink. He must be a lonely, miserable man.”

  “And deserves no less,” Tarah shot back, as the run-down soddy and Laney flashed through her mind.

  A frown etched his brow. “That’s a pretty harsh statement.”

  “If you could just see poor Laney, Pa. I get so angry just thinking about it.”

  “Your anger won’t do that family a bit of good, Tarah. Only your prayers. Just remember, God’s love and grace extend to everyone. Not just the people we think worthy.”

  “That’s what Anthony said.”

  “He’s right.” He paused a minute, regarding her thoughtfully. “Is there anything I should know about you and this young preacher?”

  Heat rushed to her cheeks, but she shook her head. “He’s courting Louisa Thomas.” How she wished she could give him another answer.

  “You sure about that?”

  “Yes, why?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m sure Louisa’s a fine young woman, but she doesn’t seem suited to a man like Anthony.”

  The words sent a strange sense of comfort to Tarah’s aching heart. She agreed wholeheartedly with her pa. There was only one woman suited to Anthony, and that woman certainly was not Louisa Thomas.

  Moving to the door, Pa gave her a wry grin. “I suppose a man’s got to make his own decisions about women. But it’ll be a heap easier on him if he makes the right one.”

  Tarah followed, fighting to hold back the tears clouding her eyes. “If Anthony Greene can’t see what’s right under his nose, then it serves him right if Louisa sinks her claws into him,” she muttered.

  Pa stopped before opening the front door. “I thought you might have feelings for him.” He studied her face for a split second, then opened his arms wide.

  She went to him willingly, taking comfort from the slow thud of his heart against her ear. “Oh, Pa. Even back in our schooldays I favored him. But for some reason, he never saw me that way. It has always been Louisa. When he came back, I hoped he might see me in a different light.”

  “He did offer to take your class today,” Pa reminded her, gently stroking her hair.

  “We’ve become. . .friends, I guess,” she admitted.

  “Nothing wrong with friendship.”

  Tarah sniffed. “But I want more than—” She stopped, aware she sounded like a spoiled child crying for a new toy.

  Pa held her at arm’s length and silently regarded her for a long moment, until at last Tarah felt ashamed and dropped her gaze. He cupped her chin and forced her head gently upward. “And if his friendship is all he has to offer you, right now?”

  With great effort, Tarah swallowed past the lump in her throat and lifted her shoulders. “Then I guess I’ll have to accept it.”

  He smiled, his approval causing Tarah’s heart to soar. “I’m proud of you, Sweetheart. But don’t give up on him just yet. You never know what God has planned.” He reached for the door, then turned back to her with a grin. “Cassidy and I are proof of that.”

  ❧

  As promised, Laney stepped inside the schoolhouse at eight-thirty sharp the next morning. The room buzzed as the children observed the newest student.

  “Never seen so much dirt on one person in my life.”

  Horrified by Luke’s outburst, Tarah pinned him with her gaze until his face reddened and he turned away. Tarah swallowed past her indignation and glanced at Laney, who now stood motionless midway up the aisle. Struggling to keep from pinching her own nose to stifle the odor coming from the girl, Tarah pasted a smile on her face. “I’m so glad you came.”

  “Said I would, didn’t I? And I always keep my word.” Laney eyed the other children nervously.

  “Yeah, but does she ever take a bath? Pe–ew.”

  The room filled with twitters of laughter at Josie’s loud whisper.

  A flicker of hurt flashed in Laney’s eyes but left as soon as it had appeared. She squared her bony shoulders and glared at Josie.

  Tarah’s emotions rifled between compassion for the girl and anger at the children’s cruelty. They had no idea the kind of life Laney endured on a daily basis. If Tarah could have her way, she’d march each one of them to the woodshed and give them the switchings they deserved.

  “Josie Raney,” Tarah said hotly, feeling Laney’s humiliation. “Go stand in that corner. Luke, go stand in the other one. I will not tolerate rude behavior in my classroom.”

  Laney’s brows lifted. “Aw, Tar—Miss St. John. You ain’t gotta do that on my account. I’m used to it. Anyways, I don’t stay where I ain’t wanted.” She turned on her heel, headed back down the aisle toward the door, then stopped as Luke brushed past her on his way to the corner. Grabbing his arm, she brought him about to face her. She raised up on her tiptoes and got as close to his face as her tiny body allowed. “Fella,” she said. “If I had a face full of freckles like you, I wouldn’t be worryin’ over a little dirt. Least I can wash mine off iffen I take a notion to.”

  Squaring her shoulders, she spun around and slipped through the door as quickly as she had come.

  Luke’s face glowed red as the children laughed at Laney’s rude remark. A twinge of sympathy rose within Tarah at his embarrassment. Luke had always been self-conscious about his freckles, and she knew Laney’s comment had hurt him.

  “I’m sorry, Luke,” she whispered as he walked past
her.

  Surprise lit his eyes. He regarded her briefly, then shrugged. “Didn’t bother me none.”

  She knew he was lying but didn’t press the issue. “It bothered me. No one deserves to be treated unkindly.” A feeling of unease clenched her stomach as Louisa’s annoying face flitted to her mind. Stubbornly she shook the image away. That was an entirely different matter.

  Without responding to her comment, Luke turned his back and pressed his nose into the corner.

  Tarah turned to the other children. “I’ll be right back,” she announced. “Take out your readers and keep quiet until I return.”

  Once outside, she scanned the area for Laney. Her heart raced as she spied the child headed toward the direction of the old soddy. “Laney, wait!” she called.

  The little girl stopped and waited until Tarah caught up to her.

  With a sinking heart, Tarah observed the stony expression on her face.

  “It ain’t no use, Tarah. I told ya I weren’t stayin’ iffen I didn’t like it.”

  “Oh, Laney. You didn’t give it a chance.”

  Laney set her jaw firmly. “I don’t stay where I ain’t wanted. ’Sides, school’s a waste of time, anyhow.”

  “Honey, I’m sorry those children were rude to you.” Tarah felt her shoulders slump in defeat. “Believe me, I know how you feel.”

  Laney’s eyes narrowed. “They say you stink, too?” She frowned and, leaning in close to Tarah, drew a deep breath. “I ain’t noticed nothin’like that. Fact is, you smell kinda sweet—like I ’magine my ma smelt ’fore she died.”

  “Thank you, Laney.” Tarah’s heart ached for the motherless child who had to live in such squalor. “Please come back to school.”

  “Them kids don’t like me.”

  “They just don’t know you yet, Honey. After a while, they won’t have any choice but to like you—just like I do.”

  A glimmer lit Laney’s eyes. “You like me?”

  “Of course, I do. From the moment we spoke at the river yesterday, I knew you and I would be friends.”

  Eyeing her warily, Laney cocked her head to one side. “You ain’t just sayin’ that so’s I’ll come back for some learnin’?”

  “I promise.” Wings of hope fluttered in Tarah’s heart, and she prayed as hard as she had in her entire life. Please, Lord. Change this little girl’s heart.

  “’Cain’t do it,” Laney said, shaking her head. “Those kids don’t like my clothes nor my smell.”

  “Well, maybe you could take a bath and put on some different clothes,” Tarah suggested hopefully.

  Laney scowled. “Pa kicked a hole in the washtub and. . .” She glanced away. “This is all the clothes I got. Sorry, Tarah. Ya been real good to me, and I wish I could go back. But I just cain’t. Not with them sayin’ such things about me.”

  Tears stung Tarah’s eyes. She couldn’t blame the child for not wanting to endure further humiliation. “I understand, Laney. Really, I do. And I’m sorry the other children were so mean.” Her voice trembled as she spoke.

  Laney’s eyes grew wide. “Y–ya really do like me, dontcha?”

  Tarah nodded, unable to find her voice.

  Laney flew into her arms, nearly knocking her over with the force of her little body. Before Tarah could react, the child squeezed her tightly around the middle, then darted away as fast as her scrawny legs would carry her.

  Tears flowed unchecked down Tarah’s face as she slowly made her way back to the schoolroom. She drew in a deep, steadying breath, swiped at her cheeks with her palms, and stepped inside. Expecting chaos, she sent up a prayer of thanks when she found her students exactly as she had left them.

  Luke turned to face her as she walked toward her desk. For the first time in weeks, no belligerence or teasing marked his expression. Instead, he regarded her with serious eyes, conveying his apology, then he turned and stood motionless with his nose pressed to the wall.

  Seven

  Tarah shut the schoolhouse door firmly behind her and headed for Tucker’s Mercantile. After the fiasco with Laney that morning, the children were mercifully compliant the remainder of the day. But Tarah took only minimal joy in the fact that they learned their lessons well and offered no resistance. Her heart still ached for Laney.

  After praying for direction all morning, an idea had come to her around lunchtime. With great effort, she instructed the children in their lessons the rest of the day, impatient for the time when she could dismiss the class.

  She walked the short distance to the mercantile, eager to put her plan into action.

  “Afternoon, Tarah,” Mr. Tucker greeted her as the bell above the door signaled her arrival. “Glad you’re here. Got some mail for you.”

  “For me?”

  “Yep.” Faded blue eyes twinkled as he handed her an envelope. “Ya got this from some fella over in Starling. Finally courtin’?”

  Tarah felt her cheeks warm. “No, Sir.”

  She glanced down to make sure the letter was rightfully addressed to her. Sure enough, her name was written plainly on the envelope: Miss Tarah St. John, Harper, Kansas.

  There was no mistake. Her heart did a little jump at the return address: Mr. Clyde Halston, a rancher friend of Pa’s from Starling, a small community twenty miles north of Harper. He had come through to buy a horse last summer. The day he arrived, the household was filled with excitement over learning Tarah had been hired to teach in Harper.

  At the time, Mr. Halston had mentioned the possibility of Tarah coming to Starling to teach a three-month term in the spring, but she hadn’t taken him seriously. Now, she wondered if perhaps the town council had taken his suggestion to start a school after all.

  “Gonna open it or stand there staring at it all day?” Mr. Tucker asked, leaning his elbows on the counter.

  Waffling between the desire to open her letter and wanting to complete her business, Tarah opted to wait. Reading the letter would come later, away from Mr. Tucker’s prying eyes. “I think I’ll wait. I need to make a few purchases and get home to help with chores,” she said, tucking the envelope into her bag.

  Clearly disappointed by her decision, Mr. Tucker straightened up and glanced at her over his wire-rimmed spectacles. “Got a letter here for your pa, too.” He handed it over. “Looks like it might be from your granny.”

  Tarah smiled as she read the return address. “Yes, it is.”

  “When’s she comin’ back, anyway?” Tucker cleared his throat and gave the letter a once-over. “Some folks been sayin’ how they’re missin’ her.”

  With great effort, Tarah bit back the smile threatening her lips. She knew Mr. Tucker and Granny had a mutual affection for each other, but so far, neither had lowered their pride enough to admit it.

  “I’m not sure, Mr. Tucker,” she said. “Perhaps this letter contains that information. We’ll all be so happy when she returns to us.”

  “Make sure ya let me know so I can pass the word along to the folks askin’ about her, ya hear?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Now, what can I get for ya?”

  “I need two pairs of boy’s trousers. About my brother Jack’s size. Do you carry those? And two new shirts also.”

  “I got ’em. On that shelf over there.”

  Tarah thanked the storekeeper and headed in the direction he indicated.

  Originally, she had toyed with the idea of getting Laney into a dress but dismissed the thought as quickly as it had come. She had the feeling if she tried, the girl would balk and refuse to wear the feminine garment. Next, she had thought of asking Ma for some of Luke’s castoffs, usually given to Jack, but decided against that, as well. She doubted Laney had ever owned new clothing, and she wanted the child to have something new, something no one else had ever worn.

  She rummaged through the shelves until she found two sturdy pairs of Levi’s that looked to be about Laney’s size and two shirts—one blue and one brown. On impulse, she grabbed some suspenders, just in case she had misjudged
the size. Walking back to the counter, she spied a rack of coats. She glanced at the price and drew in her breath, mentally calculating how much of her meager earnings she would need to part with to buy one.

  Reluctantly, she turned away, knowing she didn’t have enough to pay for the clothes and a new coat for Laney. The shirts were warm enough to shield the child from the cool autumn air for now, but Tarah knew Kansas weather. One day could be hot as July, and all of a sudden, a blizzard could blow up out of nowhere. But there was nothing she could do about it for the time being. With one last glance at the rack of coats, she turned to Mr. Tucker and set the items on the counter. “This is all, I suppose.”

  “I hate to pass up a sale, but you sure you need those shirts?” Mr. Tucker asked. “Your ma was just in here a few days ago buying material and buttons for new shirts all around. I recollect her mentioning she needed enough to get all her men through the winter.”

  “Yes. She’s busy sewing now,” Tarah replied, not wanting to give him more information than necessary.

  Mr. Tucker raised his bushy eyebrows and pursed his lips. “Sure ya want all that?”

  “Yes, Sir.” She averted her gaze, feigning interest in a jar of sourballs on the counter.

  “Okay, then. Should I put this on your pa’s account?”

  Tarah turned back to the storekeeper. “Oh, no. I’m paying cash.”

  A curious frown etched his brow as he tallied the items and gave her the total.

  Tarah reached into her cloth bag and drew out the money. “Mr. Tucker, how much for that washtub hanging on the wall?”

  “Now, hold on. Just what are you up to, young lady? I know your pa didn’t send you down here for these clothes and a washtub.”

  A sigh escaped her lips. “All right,” she said. “These things are for a needy child. But please don’t tell anyone.”

  “What needy child?”

  “Please, Mr. Tucker. Don’t ask. I’d rather not say.”

  “Humph.” He eyed her suspiciously. “These for the Jenkins boy? I’m telling you, they’ll never fit him. He’s about the size of your brother Luke.”