Second Chance Bride

by Jane Myers Perrine

  “I’ll hold her still.” John took the reins.

  Reciting the points of mounting a horse to herself, Annie swung her leg over the saddle and found herself on Mercy’s back.

  “Well done,” he said, looking at her closely for a moment. With a much smoother motion, he mounted his horse.

  Watching Elizabeth trot off ahead of her, Annie held the reins lightly, sat straight with her elbows in and gently pressed Mercy’s sides with her legs. Fortunately, the mare followed Elizabeth’s pony toward the meadow. As they broke through the grove of trees, Annie gasped in delight at the view. In the distance, she could see herds of cattle grazing. She pulled on the reins and, amazingly, Mercy stopped.

  White-tailed deer—three or four does, several bucks and three fawns, slender, graceful and so fragile looking—grazed on the long grass and clover. When they heard the horses, the deer lifted their heads, then turned and disappeared into a thicket.

  Twined around tree stumps were thick trumpet creepers, their orange blooms brilliant against the grass. Hummingbirds and butterflies flew from flower to flower in the warm sunshine.

  “This is beautiful,” she said, her voice conveying amazement. “You must love this place.” She took in the beauty for a few more minutes before she asked, “How long have you lived here?”

  “Forever, it seems.” He smiled as he looked across the meadow. “My great-grandfather came to the area from Boston. He joined with Stephen F. Austin in 1823, when Mexico opened the area up to Americans. We have letters he wrote to my great-grandmother before she joined him. He said that hundreds of bison covered the land as far as a man could see.” He stretched his arm out and waved it across the area ahead of them.

  His pride in his family glowed on his face, and Annie was torn. On one hand, she felt drawn to him, in awe of his passion about the place of his family in history; on the other, she wondered what she was doing next to him, looking out over this land that had belonged to his family for generations when she didn’t even know where her parents had come from.

  “In 1835, my grandfather was at Gonzales. He stood by the canyon and waved the ‘Come and Take It’ flag with the ‘Old Eighteen.’ My great-uncle fought and died at the Alamo with Davy Crockett and Jim Bowie, and my father fought at San Jacinto.”

  “Your family has been part of Texas from the beginning.”

  He nodded. “The Sullivans have been on this land for over sixty years. I can’t tell you how proud I am of my family and my name. We are Texans.

  “But enough about me, Matilda.” He turned and smiled at her. “Why don’t we sit over there.” He dismounted, tied his horse up and turned to her, his closeness warming the chilly morning. Holding his hand out, he waited for her to dismount.

  Well, she had little choice. Reversing her method of mounting the horse, she attempted to turn in the saddle; but her aching right leg made her clumsy. Her foot slipped in the stirrup at the same time the mare took a step. If he hadn’t caught her, she would’ve fallen in a heap at his feet.

  Awareness of him shot through her. Embarrassed of both that odd feeling and her clumsiness, she shrugged from his grasp and turned toward him. “Thank you.”

  “We should have been more considerate about your injuries.” He took her arm again and helped her sit down on a log. “Now we can talk about you.”

  Not what Annie wanted. She needed to change the subject but couldn’t think of a way to distract him. They were surrounded by the sounds of nature, held gently by the splendor of the high meadow, serenaded by the birds and all the melodies of God’s world.

  “Are you comfortable?” he asked once they were both settled, watching Elizabeth ride her pony around the meadow.

  “Why don’t you tell me about your background and interest in education?” Annie replied before he could ask any questions. “Did you attend Trail’s End school?”

  “Until sixth grade. At that time, my father decided I needed a better education, and he sent me to boarding school in Dallas.”

  “How old were you?”

  “Ten or eleven.” He shrugged. “It was expected.”

  He must have been lonely. She felt sad for the little boy he’d been.

  “That’s the reason I’m determined to raise the educational standards here.” He rested his elbows on his thighs and clasped his hands together as he watched his daughter, love and pride evident on his face. “Her grandparents want her to go to St. Louis for school. I want to keep Elizabeth here with me as long as possible, but I also want her to have a good education.”

  As if Annie were the one to do that. A stab of guilt shot through her.

  She thought he was about to ask her a question, so she hurried on. “What did you do after boarding school?”

  The scent of flowers along with the occasional buzz of bees was hypnotic, so much so that Annie was worried she might slip up and say something she shouldn’t to this man who believed she was who she said she was.

  “I attended Waco College and studied business and finance.”

  As she watched him, she saw his expression change from his excitement about the school in Trail’s End to a distinct lack of interest. Noting the change in his voice, as well, she asked, “Didn’t you like it?”

  “When I was young, I wanted to be a veterinarian.” He gave a deprecating laugh. “I’ve always loved animals. I wanted to attend Iowa State College.”

  “Why didn’t you?”

  “My father expected me to be a banker and rancher, to take over his businesses.” He turned toward her. “As you may know, ranchers don’t respect the new science of veterinary medicine.”

  “They don’t? Why not?”

  “Ranchers have been caring for their animals for years, probably centuries. They won’t put up with some new college graduate telling them what to do.”

  Thinking of the ranchers she’d known, she said, “I see your point.”

  “And Iowa, as you know from geography, is a long way from Texas. I probably would have hated Iowa. It gets cold there, and it isn’t Texas.”

  Then he laughed, a true laugh. Annie joined him, even though she didn’t know why they were laughing. But hearing the sound of their amusement soaring over the meadow felt wonderful and freeing.

  “Someday,” he said, “I’ll tell you a few interesting stories about how we take care of animals on the ranch. Even better, I’ll show you our veterinarian’s office. Duffy, one of the ranch hands, taught me everything he knows. He’s the one who made me want to be a veterinarian.”

  His gaze held hers. All she could think was how blue his eyes were, not cold at all as she’d thought earlier. His smile, even the tiny sliver he showed her, made her breathless. She didn’t feel at all like Annie or Matilda but instead, like a new, very happy and slightly unsure young woman.

  “Matilda, you have a wonderful laugh,” he said in a soft voice that made Annie believe he’d felt the same way about their shared moment.

  What was happening between the two of them? She was overcome by a feeling of breathlessness and wonder, and a need to know more about the man. He slowly reached out and took her hand, looking at her as if she were the most beautiful woman in the world.

  Elizabeth’s voice shattered the enchanting moment. “Father, I’m tired now, and Brownie wants to go home.”

  In an instant, he let go of her hand, stood and turned toward his daughter while Annie put her hands to her cheeks, certain they were pink with embarrassment. How could she have dared to look at John like that?

  And yet, he’d returned her gaze and held her hand, filling her with pleasure and feelings she didn’t recognize.

  If she weren’t so happy, she’d be completely terrified.

  As he drove to pick up Matilda for the school board meeting, John thought about the conversation they’d had Saturday morning. He’d wanted to know her better and had attempted to learn about her life, but she had been reticent. No, more than reticent. She’d avoided talking about herself by asking him questions. Not that
he didn’t enjoy telling her about himself, but he’d wanted to see if she seemed less disoriented. Or perhaps he had just wanted to know the lovely young woman better.

  The conversation had convinced him she’d suffered no ill effects from the accident, but his own state of mind confused him. Something had passed between them three days earlier that had turned his life inside out. Although she was his daughter’s virtuous young teacher, he wanted more—more than he should. And now he had no idea of how to treat Matilda. Should he act like the school board member or the man who found her to be beautiful, charming and everything he desired in a woman?

  There was no doubt what his father would say, if he were alive: act like a Sullivan and forget this absurd folly. But John no longer had to answer to his father, and he enjoyed this feeling of attraction too much to deny it.

  He found her waiting for him when he arrived at the schoolhouse. He stopped the surrey and stepped out to help her, behaving like the man he was, the man he’d spent most of his life becoming: upright and honest and never foolish. But he feared his smile showed how he really felt.

  “Good evening,” he said as he took her hand to help her into the vehicle. “Do you have any questions about the meeting tonight?”

  For an instant, her lovely skin went pale and her beautiful dark brown eyes opened wide, enormous in her face. He suddenly felt protective. What could be frightening her? “Don’t worry. The school board is happy with your first two weeks. You won’t have to do more than answer a few questions.” He got into the surrey next to her.

  “Thank you,” she said. “I have worried.”

  The quiver in her voice helped him understand how much she had worried about the upcoming meeting, but he had no idea how to calm her. With a snap of the whip, the horses took off.

  “Miss Cunningham, we are delighted to have you meet with the board,” Mr. Johnson, the grocer, said. “The children seem very happy with your teaching. Ida and Samuel have expressed this often.”

  “Thank you, sir.” She looked around at the members of the school board in the bank office. She knew Mr. Hanson, of course. She thought the tall woman with pale blond hair in the corner must be the grandmother of the Sundholm twins. In the corner sat Mr. Tripp, the carriage maker and the father of Tommy and Rose. John looked very much in charge, certain and sure in conducting the meeting. This was Mr. Sullivan she was seeing—he was no longer John, the man she’d spent time with Saturday morning.

  “Miss Cunningham.” He spoke in a serious but reassuring voice. “Some of the members would like to ask you questions.”

  Annie nodded.

  “I wonder if you could tell us what techniques you use to teach,” Mr. Hanson said. “I have heard that you use the older children to teach the younger ones to read.”

  Annie calmed the flutter in her stomach. “Well, yes, I do.” What other choice did she have when she knew so little? “I believe that the older children review what they’ve learned when they teach the younger ones, and it allows me to work with another group on arithmetic.”

  “An interesting concept,” Mr. Johnson said. “But don’t you find that the older ones need additional help with their reading and writing?”

  “Of course, but right now we are reviewing. The children have been out of school for almost six months. I want to make sure they remember what they learned last year before we move on to new material.” Oh, she spoke as if she knew what she was doing. She sounded like a real teacher. Confidence began to spread through her.

  “How long will that take?” the elderly woman asked.

  “A month, perhaps.” Until she learned to read much better. “Although I expect to do this occasionally during the school year. I’ve seen how working with the younger children helps the older children retain information.”

  “Perhaps you can tell us some other methods you use.” John opened the leather folder and inspected a paper inside. “How have you used what they taught you in school?”

  She paused to give herself time to gather her thoughts to make something up. “I learned to use two subjects together, one to teach the other,” she blurted out with no idea where the words had come from. In the back of her mind she could remember someone—had it been her mother?—teaching Annie her numbers while reading her stories. It had been so long ago, and she’d been so young.

  “Could you give us an example?” the elderly woman asked.

  “I use a song to teach the alphabet,” she said, surprised at her own words.

  “Would you sing it for us?” Mr. Johnson asked.

  “Oh, yes,” Mr. Johnson said. “We’d like to hear that, wouldn’t we?”

  All the members agreed.

  Floundering, Annie wondered what to do. Everyone on the board sat in silence, waiting for her. She cleared her throat, then opened her mouth to sing the multiplication table, which she knew very well now, to a tune. She had no idea if the numbers would fit the tune, but she had to do something. Fortunately, the numbers and the notes came out almost even, with just a little flourish at the end. When she finished, Annie looked around the room. All the members looked at her with pleasure, even admiration.

  “As I said before, you have a lovely voice, Miss Cunningham,” John said. She glimpsed that half smile briefly, before he became serious again. “The children are fortunate to have you as their teacher.”

  “Thank you, sir.” She lowered her eyes, pleased to have survived that question.

  “If there is nothing more,” John said, looking at each board member, “some of the mothers have prepared a small party to welcome you, Miss Cunningham.”

  Once the other members of the school board began to leave, John could think of no reason to put off the short drive to the ranch. After he’d helped Matilda into the surrey and started the horses toward the ranch, he reminded himself that, although there was clearly something between them, she was alone in a strange place with no male relatives to protect her.

  He wasn’t the kind of man who would take advantage of a vulnerable woman. Of any woman. But neither did he have any idea how to behave toward her in their situation.

  “You did very well at the meeting tonight,” he said.

  “Thank you.”

  After that, conversation languished. He sensed that she was as uncomfortable and uncertain as he was.

  When they reached the schoolhouse, he stopped the vehicle, walked around it and held out his hand to steady her. When their hands touched, he felt the attraction again, stronger now. Standing close to her as she turned to walk toward the schoolhouse, still steadying her with his hand under hers, he was drawn by her scent. He guessed it was only the soap Lucia had given her, but on Matilda it smelled like every marvelous fragrance in the world.

  When she reached the steps of the schoolhouse, Annie looked up at him and removed her hand from his. “Thank you, John. I enjoyed meeting the other members of the school board. I believe the evening went well. Don’t you?”

  But his thoughts were elsewhere. Under the bright light of the moon, he could only think of how lovely she was: her oval face, her beautiful dark eyes, her long lashes, lovely arched brows and the thick, dark hair he longed to feel loose and curling through his fingers. “Matilda, you are very beautiful,” he whispered, reaching for her hand again.

  Her eyes opened wide in fear. She pushed his hand away as she attempted to escape from his touch, almost in a panic.

  As soon as he realized his actions and words scared her, he stepped back. “I apologize. I don’t know what I did, but I’m deeply sorry my words and actions frightened you.”

  How had he alarmed her? He had no idea. He hadn’t thought he’d spoken or acted disrespectfully; yet she was terrified. What had he done?

  Her shoulders shook and tears ran down her face. He reached out a hand in an effort to comfort her, but she moved away. With the steps behind her, there was little space for her to flee. He quickly took another step backward.

  “Are you all right?” He looked into her terrified
eyes as he attempted to hand her a handkerchief. She didn’t take it. She didn’t answer.

  “What can I do?”

  She shook her head. Without a word or a glance toward him, she stumbled up the steps, entered the schoolhouse and closed the door behind her.

  “Good night, Matilda,” he said to the door. He stood in the clearing for a moment and watched, wondering what to do. After several minutes, the lamp went on in the schoolroom and then moved toward her quarters. He strode to the surrey.

  He had no idea how he’d upset her. He’d been raised to be a model of moral rectitude, to be a dutiful son with the added burden of living up to not just one but two biblical names. He’d been faithful to his wife and had never looked at another woman during their marriage or since—not until now.

  Yet somehow he’d frightened Matilda beyond all understanding when he told her she was beautiful. Didn’t women like that? Or was it holding her hand that scared her? Or both?

  Had something happened in her life that made her skittish around men, or was her reaction due to her virtue? And what should he do about it?

  He leaped onto the seat and clicked the reins. He had no idea what he should do, but knew better than to go back to the schoolhouse and ask her tonight.

  Shaking, Annie closed the door to the schoolhouse and leaned against it.

  Was it so obvious what she was? Was trash written across her face? Why did men believe they could touch her whenever they wanted? How did they know that she wasn’t a lady? She’d tried to become one. The futility of all that effort caused tears to pour down her cheeks while loud sobs racked her.

  “Meow?”

  The cat was still inside. She hadn’t been able to put the tiny thing back outside. It had become such good company in spite of its constant noise. Or perhaps because of it.

  She took off her shoes and padded slowly across the classroom, lit the lamp and carried it to her bedroom with the kitten trotting behind her.

  She noted the narrow bed where Minnie sat, the unsteady dresser where she’d placed the lamp and the dresses hanging on the nails. A shabby little place by the standards of some but beautiful to her. She’d felt safe here.