Second Chance Bride

by Jane Myers Perrine

  “He works at the ranch.”

  “But he should be in school. Certainly Miguel will do much better in life if he can read and write.”

  “Unfortunately many young people in this area don’t attend school because they are needed by their families. Others cannot afford school, even with the low tuition rate.”

  “How sad,” she said, recognizing that he could have been talking about her as a child. What would John think of her if he knew her story? What would he say? More importantly, what would he do? Annie never wanted to find out.

  “I also came to give you a message,” he said. As Annie took a few steps toward him, he frowned in concern. “Are you limping?”

  She looked down at her feet. Although she’d laced her shoes loosely, they pinched so much that she hobbled toward him. “I hurt my foot in the accident. My shoes rub, but I’m sure I’ll be fine shortly.”

  “We cannot have you in pain, Matilda. Not even for a short time. Do you need new shoes?”

  “I would like a new pair, but I don’t have the money to buy them yet.” And she had no idea when she would be paid—or if she would be paid when the children told their parents about the incident of the lazy S.

  “Then I’ll advance you part of your salary.” He reached in his pocket, took out a bill and handed it to her. “You have, after all, taught for a week. Do you need anything else?”

  Annie, astounded, almost couldn’t think clearly. “A brush. I lost my brush in the wreck, and some soap.”

  “I’ll have Lucia bring you soap tomorrow. Also I’ll put some money on account for you at the general store, as well as the bank. You can draw it from either place for your necessities.”

  “Thank you, John.” She smiled, delighted by the feel of money in her hand and the thought of wearing shoes that fit properly. “You said you had a message for me?”

  He simply watched her for a moment, his eyes filled with an admiration that made her self-conscious. She shifted, ill at ease under his scrutiny.

  He finally cleared his throat and said, “I’ve been asked to bring you to a meeting of the school board on Tuesday of next week in my office at the bank. We’ll leave here shortly before seven.” He turned, got into the surrey and had driven off before she could say anything or ask for more information.

  What would they expect of her at such a meeting? Would they test her? Would they expect her to read for them? Or to recite a poem?

  She sighed. Well, there was nothing she could do about it now. She’d have to wait until Tuesday and hope she could show herself to be competent.

  “Thank you, Mr. Sullivan. That sounds fine. I’ll be ready,” Annie yelled.

  Two o’clock Friday, at almost the end of the school day, Elizabeth waved her hand, trying to get Annie’s attention. “Miss Cunningham, Miss Cunningham.”

  Annie looked up from Clara’s arithmetic. “Yes, Elizabeth?”

  “Guess what I’m getting for my birthday?”

  “When is your birthday, Elizabeth?”

  “Today, today!” Her face glowed with excitement, then changed quickly to dismay. “I was supposed to tell you. Lucia is bringing a cake today, just before the end of school. So everyone can celebrate with me. I’m sorry. I forgot to tell you.”

  “That’s all right.” Annie smiled at the rest of the class. “Do you mind that Elizabeth forgot to tell us, or can we all agree to eat the cake Lucia brings to help Elizabeth celebrate?”

  Everyone shouted their approval. “I think we’ll all enjoy celebrating with you.”

  “Good.” Elizabeth smiled again. “But can you guess what I’m getting for my birthday?”

  “A new doll?” Clara asked. The boys made sounds of disgust about such a feminine gift, but Elizabeth shook her head.

  The guessing continued: an apple, a hairbrush set, new shoes, a dress. No one found the correct answer.

  “A pony!” Elizabeth finally said. “My father is giving me a pony. I’ll ride it to school on Monday.”

  “A pony,” Martha said. “What color?”

  “I don’t know yet. He’ll have it for me when I get home.”

  Everyone told Elizabeth how excited they were about her present and wished her happy birthday. After they shared the delicious torte Lucia brought down, the other students left for the day.

  With an impatient Elizabeth dancing around, anxious to get home to see her pony, Annie helped Lucia clean up and then saw them off, waving as the two headed to the ranch house in the wagon.

  Finally alone, Annie went back into the schoolhouse and twirled around the room. She’d lasted another day. “Thank you, Lord,” she whispered, the prayer feeling more natural.

  The students had sung a lot and done sums orally, but she seemed to have them convinced she was a real teacher. Over the weekend, she’d have two days to work, to learn, to attempt to read several stories in the upper-level readers and understand them. Two days minus time for Sunday services, but that still left her plenty of time. Annie pulled a desk over to a window again and began to work.

  The wind picked up at sundown, whipping around the corners of the sturdy schoolhouse. Surely, Annie thought as she looked out the window, a storm was coming to break the drought. But no sound of rain pattered on the roof.

  Annie had finished reading several stories and sat up to stretch. Her shoulders hurt constantly from leaning over the desk, but the persistent work helped her feel more confident. As she leaned her head on her hands in an effort to relieve a headache that plagued her, she heard a persistent sound from the back of the building, loud enough to be audible above the roar of the wind. What in the world was it?

  She shook her head and picked up the book again, but the odd sound continued, just loud enough to distract her. A glance at her watch told her it was only ten o’clock, which meant she had several more hours of work ahead.

  But the noise didn’t stop. It interrupted her concentration as she read the moral story about a little girl named Minnie who always complained. The author of the story held Minnie up as a good child who attempted to teach everyone to behave as perfectly as she did by her constant nagging. She seemed like a whiner to Annie. Happy to have a reason to stop reading this particular story, she stood and headed toward the sound.

  When she walked past the kitchen, the sound grew louder. Entering the bedroom, she realized it came from outside her back door.

  She stopped. Should she open it? If there were anyone outside who wished to do her harm, it would be easy enough for him to break in. Slowly she approached the door, opened it and peeked out through a narrow slit.

  No one was there, but the sound continued. She looked down. On the top step stood a tiny ball of fur. In an instant, it tore past her feet and into the building as the wind grabbed the door and slammed it behind the creature.

  Annie turned. In the middle of the room stood a small bit of black fluff with four white feet and a dot of white on its nose. From its mouth came the loudest caterwauling Annie had ever heard. And it didn’t stop.

  “Come here, kitty.” Annie reached out her hand, but the little animal backed up and growled. Annie put her hands on her hips and looked at the cat. What should she do?

  “Are you hungry?” It did not, of course, answer, but strutted out of the bedroom with its little black tail standing straight up like a scorpion’s. And it kept up the loud, demanding meowing. How could such a small creature make so much noise?

  Annie had no other choice but to follow it. She was, after all, in charge of the schoolhouse, responsible for its good order and cleanliness. Allowing the kitten to wander through didn’t seem responsible. Of course, what harm could something so small do?

  More than she would’ve thought. By the time Annie found the cat, it had pounced on a piece of soapstone and knocked it to the floor causing it to break and scatter dust and fragments all over; discovered a piece of paper that it tore up into small scraps with great delight; and scratched on the door jamb, leaving deep marks with its sharp little claws. />
  “No, kitty.” When it didn’t pay any attention to her, Annie took advantage of the animal’s inspection of a bug to pick up the kitten.

  “Meooooow,” the tiny creature complained in a voice loud enough for one of the cougars Annie’d been told lurked in Texas, then wiggled away.

  Annie went into the kitchen and opened a can of milk, poured it in a bowl and added a little water. She found the kitten exploring her desk and put the bowl next to it. In no time, the cat had lapped the bowl clean and began washing her face with her tiny white foot. Before it finished, the cat blinked a few times, then curled up on the desk and fell asleep.

  What was she going to do with it? She watched for a few minutes while it slept, its sides rising and falling. She placed a finger under the animal’s chin and scratched. Loud purrs sounded through the schoolroom.

  What was she going to do with it? Annie picked up the lamp in one hand and the cat in the other. The little creature pressed its soft, furry warmth against her chest and continued to purr. She suspected the schoolhouse wasn’t the place for a kitten. Maybe a big mouser who lived outdoors, yes, but not this little speck of fur that was barely the size of a mouse.

  Annie put the lamp on the dresser, then opened the door and leaned over to put the kitten back outside. It woke up and looked at her with wide, startled eyes, digging its claws into her basque and refusing to let go.

  “All right.” Annie stepped back inside and closed the door. “You can stay for tonight—just tonight. Tomorrow, when the wind lets up, you’re going back outside.” She lifted the kitten’s chin and looked into its face. “Is that understood?”

  It purred.

  Annie folded a towel and placed it in the corner of her bedroom. “That’s your bed for tonight.” She placed the cat on the towel, then began to undress. Before she slipped on her nightgown, the little animal had scaled the blanket on the bed and curled up in the middle of it.

  “All right.” Annie laughed. “You can stay up here tonight. But tomorrow you’re back outside,” she repeated.

  “Miss Cunningham, Miss Cunningham!”

  Someone was knocking and calling her name at the front door. Annie turned over and attempted to ignore the sounds. It was Saturday morning. Certainly she had the right to sleep late. Or was there something in her contract about getting up early on Saturday mornings?

  Then the knocking began at the back door. She opened her eyes slowly and discovered a cat lying on her pillow. Oh, yes, the kitten. The sight reminded her that her exhaustion this morning was due to a small, furry tornado that had raced across the bed all night long.

  Sunshine filled her room. What time was it?

  “Just a minute!” she shouted with as much courtesy as she could find inside her sleep-deprived body. She slid off the bed, stumbled toward the dresser and picked up her watch. Nine o’clock. She should be up by now.

  “Just a minute,” she repeated but more politely. She’d glanced at the chemise she slept in and wondered how she could answer the door—she had no robe. When she moved the cat so she could use the blanket, it howled in protest. Annie wrapped the cover around her and opened the door to peek outside. “Oh, good morning, Lucia.”

  Lucia stood outside with a bundle in her hands. “Good morning, Miss Cunningham. I’m sorry to bother you, but Mr. Sullivan sent me.”

  Was the board meeting this morning? Annie shook her head. No, Tuesday evening. Had she forgotten an appointment John had scheduled for this morning? She opened the door and allowed Lucia inside.

  “It will take me a moment to get dressed.”

  Lucia took another step inside, put the bundle on the bed and untied the twine. As she did, the kitten jumped across the covers and attacked the string. Lucia jumped back.

  “Oh, Miss Cunningham, you have a kitten.” She scratched the cat’s ears. “It’s so cute. Does it have a name?”

  Annie thought of the little creature’s loud protests and remembered the story she’d been reading about the girl who always complained. “She’s Minnie. She wandered in last night when it was so windy, but I’m not keeping her.”

  As if she understood, the kitten started her loud meowing.

  “Miss Cunningham, we have badgers, foxes, armadillos, bobcats and raccoons in this area. If you don’t keep the cat, the scavengers will eat her.”

  Minnie wouldn’t even make a mouthful for any of those animals. Perhaps she’d keep her a few more nights, or until she was big enough to defend herself.

  “Mr. Sullivan sent me to ask if Elizabeth could come over to show you her new horse.”

  “Of course.”

  “I brought you some bacon and a few biscuits, so you wouldn’t have to fix your breakfast this morning.” She handed Annie the bag. “I reminded Mr. Sullivan you don’t work on the weekends, but Miss Elizabeth was so insistent. He can’t turn her down.”

  “I’m glad she wanted to share her excitement with me.”

  “And he’s bringing over a horse for you to ride,” Lucia said.

  “He shouldn’t do that.” Annie clasped her hands in front of her. “I really don’t ride.”

  “Well, Mr. Sullivan seems to think you ride and that you’d be happy to have the opportunity.”

  Matilda probably rode well. She’d looked like the type of woman who did everything capably. Annie was the type of woman who’d never been on a horse and wasn’t all that fond of the large animals. They had a tendency to prance and to show their big teeth.

  “Maybe he has me confused with one of the other applicants for this position.”

  Lucia shook her head. “You were the only applicant.”

  Oh, dear.

  “Mr. Sullivan sent me over with a divided skirt, one of his wife’s. It should fit you.” Lucia held it up. “He didn’t know if you had brought your riding clothes with you.”

  Annie shook her head as she took the garment from Lucia. What had she gotten into? “I didn’t bring riding clothes,” she said. She did not add “Because I’ve never ridden a horse, ever.”

  She’d have to ride. Clearly John expected it. It would make Elizabeth happy, but could she even stay on the horse’s back, never mind actually ride it?

  She’d have to. Suddenly, teaching herself to read didn’t seem so hard after all.

  Chapter Six

  After Lucia left, Annie pulled on the divided skirt with her brown basque, combed her hair, then settled down to enjoy a biscuit and share the bacon with Minnie. With a few minutes remaining before ten o’clock, she went outside to await the Sullivans.

  “Miss Cunningham!”

  Annie looked up to see a pretty chestnut pony frisking along with Elizabeth on its back.

  “This is my pony, Brownie.” The child brought the horse next to Annie and stopped it after a few unsuccessful tugs on the reins.

  “Soft hands, Elizabeth,” John said from a few yards behind his daughter, astride Orion. He was wearing denim trousers, a plaid cotton shirt and a wide-brimmed hat. He looked quite handsome and approachable—the banker was nowhere to be seen today.

  He nodded toward the pretty brown-and-white pinto mare he led. The animal looked calm which made Annie feel just slightly better.

  “Good morning, Elizabeth. Good morning, Mr. Sullivan.” Annie smiled and put her hand on the new pony’s neck. “She’s beautiful. Tell me all about her.”

  “My father bought her for me at an auction in Fredericksburg. They just delivered her yesterday.” Elizabeth loosened her hold on the reins a bit, and the pony pranced sideways.

  “She has a lot of spirit.” Annie watched as the girl attempted again to rein in the pony.

  “Maybe a little more than I realized.” John moved his horse closer to his daughter with the protective affection he always showed toward her. “But I’m sure that with practice, Elizabeth will be able to control Brownie.”

  “She’s a wonderful present. Thank you for bringing her to show me.”

  “As I’m sure Lucia told you, Elizabeth and I were hoping
you could join us for a ride. We’re going over to the high meadow so Elizabeth can spend some time getting used to Brownie there,” John said.

  “I haven’t ridden in so long.” She studied Elizabeth, who rode with her elbows in, lightly holding the reins, her feet resting comfortably in the stirrups. Could she do that? If the horse didn’t start bucking or doing those other wild things she’d seen the animals do, probably so.

  He frowned as if attempting to remember. “I thought you’d written that you rode daily.”

  “Well, yes, but I’ve never been a very good rider.” Well, didn’t that explanation sound foolish? She walked toward the gentle mare. The horse didn’t seem intimidating. Annie feared she’d have to get on her back and attempt to ride, but how?

  Again, she remembered the mayor’s wife in Weaver City. She stood on a step and put one foot—the left foot?—in the stirrup and threw her right leg across the horse.

  But even if she could get on the horse, she’d never fool anyone into believing she was an accomplished rider. And, although she’d healed greatly since the accident nearly two weeks earlier, her leg still ached.

  “Oh, Miss Cunningham, we’re going to have so much fun.”

  She turned back to see Elizabeth smiling in anticipation. With a sigh, she said to John, “If you could help me, I’d appreciate that,” she said. “My leg is still a problem.”

  John quickly dismounted and tied his horse to a post. “I do apologize. Elizabeth wanted to show you Brownie so much that I didn’t even consider that you may still be in pain.”

  The horse wasn’t too big. As long as it stood patiently before Annie, she might as well try to get on. She put her hand on the nose of the mare, which nickered softly.

  “She seems like a nice creature.”

  “Elizabeth learned to ride on Mercy.”

  If a child could ride this horse, certainly Annie could. She took the reins, stood on the step and placed her foot in the stirrup.

  Mercy shuffled her feet and moved away, which almost caused Annie to fall on her face. She’d grabbed the saddle and held on, but it confirmed her belief that horses could not be trusted.