“Gilbert,” his father commanded, “git my rifle.”
“Not if you value your life, boy,” Cal said sternly.
Gilbert remained where he was, backed up against the wall, out of the way of the fighting, his arm around his younger brother’s shoulders. Both boys watched in silence as the bloody fight continued.
“Did you hear me?” Ingram bellowed.
“He heard. And he understands the rules. This is between you and me,” Cal said as he landed a blow to Rollie’s face that was followed by a spurt of blood. “And this time, you’re not dealing with a helpless boy. Let’s see how you handle a real fight. With a man.”
“A man, is it? Is that what that prissy eastern schoolmarm tells you when you’re kissin’ her?” Rollie’s high-pitched laughter was cut short by a blow to his jaw from Cal’s fist.
“Oh, you’ll pay for—” Rollie’s head snapped backward. His eyes rolled back in his head before the lids closed. His fist, which had been poised to strike again, dropped heavily to his side.
Cal felt a moment of disappointment. He was just getting started. He’d hoped to be able to work off all the layers of anger and frustration, to calm the storm of emotions that still roiled inside him. Instead, he’d have to settle for half a fight.
“Next time,” he muttered as he staggered to his feet, “I hope you’re stone-cold sober, Ingram. So I can have the satisfaction of beating you to a pulp.”
He bent and picked up his gunbelt, then retrieved his hat, which had fallen off. As he was straightening, he saw the look of horror on the faces of both boys, and heard the unmistakable click of a revolver.
There was no time to draw his gun. Instead, he whirled and swung the gunbelt out in a wide arc, knocking the pistol from Rollie’s hand. The bullet discharged into a wall directly behind Cal.
He swore and caught the man by the front of his shirt, dragging him to his feet. This time he pounded Ingram with his fists until, gasping for air, Rollie collapsed into a heap.
“Thanks, Ingram,” he muttered as he fastened his gunbelt and pulled on his hat. “Now there won’t have to be a next time ”
Chapter Eleven
Cal leaned against the outer wall of the Ingram shack and sucked fresh air into his starving lungs. It was a relief to breathe freely again after experiencing the fetid air inside the cabin.
When he straightened, he noticed Gilbert and Daniel watching him wanly. The younger brother seemed always to be standing in the shadow of his older sibling. And always Gilbert had one arm around Daniel’s shoulder, as though shielding him from the cruelties of the world.
“You’ll be wanting to take back the pork,” Gilbert said matter-of-factly.
Cal shook his head. “I would, if it would teach your father a lesson. But the only ones who would be punished would be you and your brother. I’m sure you’ll make good use of it.”
He could read the relief on the boy’s face. Reaching into a pouch he wore tucked in his shirt, he tossed some money to Gilbert. “Put this where your father can’t find it.”
The boy’s eyes went wide with stunned surprise. “Why?”
Cal shrugged. “Just in case you find yourself in need.”
He watched as Gilbert stuffed the money deeply into his pocket.
Cal pulled himself into the saddle. Without another word, he nudged his horse into a run. Suddenly he felt drained. And in need of putting as much distance as possible between himself and the Ingram ranch.
With a sinking heart, he realized that there had been no satisfaction in beating Rolhe Ingram. It hadn’t changed a thing. He still harbored a deep, simmering hatred of the bully, who would continue to take out his anger and frustration on those who were smaller and weaker. Ingram was still a thief who would steal whenever he thought he could get away with it, because he was too lazy to earn his own keep.
As the miles stretched out, Cal realized something else. No matter how far he rode, he could never get away from the Ingrams. They were too deeply imprinted on his mind and heart. And seared into his very soul.
Pearl shoved open the door to her school. Setting her lantern on her desk, she hurried to light a fire on the grate. Soon the chill had been chased from the little cabin, and she began preparing for a new day. But, though she struggled to concentrate on the lessons she had prepared, she found her thoughts returning again and again to Cal.
She had seen him ride off in the direction of the Ingram ranch, and return hours later. From her window she’d been able to make out what appeared to be blood on his shirt. But instead of coming inside to clean up, he had remained in the bunkhouse until he rode out again, sporting a duster and bedroll. That could mean only one thing. He intended to be gone for some time.
She was fairly certain he had confronted Rollie Ingram. But there were still so many questions she wanted answered. Had Ingram admitted to the theft? Had Cal demanded restitution? And Rollie’s sons—were they willing parties to the theft?
Oh, why had he left without a word? Now she would just have to be patient until he returned from wherever he had gone.
Carmelita’s words came back to her. Only a fool would ever lose her heart to a cowboy. They are like the tumbleweed, traveling where the wind carries them, never putting down roots.
She hadn’t lost her heart. She was merely...distracted.
It was just as well that he had left for a while, she thought. Cal McCabe was a most unwelcome distraction. With him gone, she could spend all her time thinking about her students.
But as she began to write on her slate, she found her mind drifting time and again to thoughts of Cal. Of his unexpected kindnesses. And his sudden bursts of fury. He was not an easy man to know. Or to like. There were things he kept hidden from the world. Perhaps, she thought, it would be best if they were never uncovered. For she was uneasy about the things she might find.
She was grateful when the sounds of a horse and wagon broke the morning stillness. While Travis unhitched the horse and tethered it, the other children climbed down from the back and made their way to their desks, filling the classroom with happy chatter, scattering the last of her uneasiness.
Today there were eight children in attendance, since the Durfee boys, Damon and Amos, had joined Bart, Birdie, Travis and the three Potter sisters.
“Miss Jewel?”
At the sound of Birdie’s voice, Pearl turned.
“Yes, Birdie?”
The girl held out a parcel, wrapped carefully in a square of muslin
“What’s this?”
“Your Bible,” she said shyly. “My ma didn’t want my hands soiling it.”
“Why, this is a beautiful cover, Birdie. Please thank your mother for me. It’s so pretty, I believe I’ll leave it on for everyone to see.”
The little girl glowed under the compliment.
“Did you read a passage to your parents?” Pearl asked.
“Yes’m.” Birdie stared at a spot on the floor. “Ma cried. And Pa kept clearing his throat. They said hearing their daughter reading from the Bible was the best gift they’d ever had. They thank you kindly.”
Pearl found a lump in her own throat when she realized how much pleasure had been derived from such a simple act. She turned away to busy herself at her desk. “Take out your slates, children. We’ll begin with—”
At the sound of another wagon, she looked up in surprise. Before she could push back from her desk, the door was opened and Rollie Ingram strode in, followed by his two sons.
Rollie’s face still bore the ravages of his encounter with Cal. Now Pearl had no more doubts about whether or not they had tangled. Her hand went to her throat in a gesture of surprise, and she experienced a sudden rush of fear. Had he come here looking for Cal? But the fear was quickly erased when Rollie gave her an almost jovial smile.
“Mornin’ Miss Jewel. Thanks to Cal McCabe, I’ve seen the light.”
“The...light?”
“Of knowledge, so to speak. I’ve decided my boys ought to attend your
fine school with the other children.”
He stepped aside to reveal his two sons, and gave them a shove when they held back.
“Oh, Gilbert.” Pearl covered her mouth to stifle her revulsion at the sight of his bruised and battered face. “Whatever happened to you?”
“Fell from his horse. Landed on a rock.” Rollie gave a sly wink. “The boy’s just naturally clumsy. Always fallin’ and hurtin’ himself. Sports a new cut or bruise every day. Don’t you, boy?”
Gilbert kept his gaze averted as the children in the classroom set up an audible ripple of whispers and giggles. “Yes.”
“What’s that? Speak up, boy,” Rollie growled, grabbing his son’s arm and pinching.
“I said yes, sir.”
“That’s better.” Rollie turned to Pearl. “Now, I’ve let my boys know that I expect them to behave themselves in your school.” He puffed up his chest self-importantly. “They know they’ll answer to me if I hear they misbehaved.”
Pearl had already witnessed how he “disciplined” his sons. The memory of him kicking Gilbert while the boy was on his hands and knees, scrambling to retrieve the fallen grain, was deeply imprinted on her mind. She hadn’t swallowed his story about the boy falling from his horse. She had her own idea about how Gilbert had come by his latest scars. “I’m sure we’ll have no trouble.”
“Good. Good.” Rolhe rubbed his hands together and studied Pearl for a long moment.
She felt a chill race along her spine and had an overpowering urge to cross her hands over her chest and turn away from his scrutiny.
Rollie sauntered to the door, obviously pleased with himself. “I’ll be back to pick up my boys before supper. You see they stay put till I git here.”
As the door closed behind him, Pearl released the breath she’d been unconsciously holding. That man made her skin crawl. But she had to put aside her feelings for him and concentrate instead on his sons.
She’d feared trouble. Instead, she had two new pupils. She wondered just what Cal had said to convince Rollie Ingram to permit his two sons to attend school. Whatever it was, it had done the job.
“Come, Daniel and Gilbert.” She led the younger boy to a desk beside her youngest students, May and June Potter. Gilbert was directed to take a seat beside Amos Durfee.
The children seemed reluctant to share space with the ragged-looking Ingram boys. Daniel and Gilbert looked equally uncomfortable, refusing to look at the people around them. Though the two Potter girls kept their thoughts to themselves, and scooted over to make room, Amos Durfee had no intention of suffering in silence. “Don’t want him near me,” he said as Gilbert started to sit down.
“That’s enough, Amos,” Pearl said sharply.
“He’s a thief,” Amos protested. “My pa said him and his pa stole a whole shipment of flour last winter and then sold it in a neighboring town.”
“Did you see the theft?” Pearl asked.
“No, ma’am. But everybody said—”
“Then what you are repeating is malicious gossip.”
“Everybody knows who did it,” Amos insisted. “I don’t want to sit next to a thief.”
“I will not permit such talk in my classroom. Now, Gilbert...” Pearl started to point to a desk, but then she felt a tug on her sleeve. “Yes, Birdie?”
The girl said shyly, “I don’t mind if he sits beside me, Miss Jewel.”
Pearl wanted to hug the girl. With a gentle smile, she said, “Thank you, Birdie. Gilbert, you may take this desk.”
He slid into the desk beside Birdie, all the while keeping his gaze averted.
“Here, Daniel.” Pearl handed the little boy a slate. “I’d like you to form any letters you know. When you’re finished, bring this to my desk and we’ll go over them.”
“Yes’m.” He bent over the slate, deep in concentration.
Pearl gave the rest of the children their assignments, then paused beside Gilbert’s desk. “Can you read?” she asked softly.
He shrugged, avoiding her eyes. “Some.”
“Why don’t you come up to my desk and read?” Seeing the question in his eyes, she explained, “Just so I know what you’re capable of.”
When she was seated at her desk, she handed Gilbert a simple reader. He began to read aloud, rarely faltering, even over unfamiliar words. At the sound of his voice, deeper than that of the others, several heads came up. Pearl fixed each student with a look that commanded them to return their attention to their work. But, though they kept their gazes averted, she was aware of their continued interest in this boy, who seemed so different from all of them. It wasn’t just his reputation, his shabby clothes, or the cuts and bruises on his young body. He was a commanding presence, though she couldn’t figure out why. True, he was big for his age. Bigger even than Travis Worthing. His arms already showed the beginnings of muscles. But it wasn’t his size that set him apart. Perhaps it was his attitude—a deep-seated anger that seemed to have robbed him of his childhood, combined with a stoicism in the face of his harsh existence. And one other thing. A surprising intelligence.
“Thank you, Gilbert.” She reached for the book. “How is it that you read so well?”
“My ma taught me. Before she died.”
“She was a very fine teacher.”
Pearl thought, for just a moment, she saw a light come into his eyes. But just as quickly, when someone snickered, it was extinguished, and the sullen curve of his lips returned.
“You may take your seat,” she said. “Daniel, have you finished your letters yet?”
“Yes’m.” The little boy hurried to her desk and presented his slate.
Pearl couldn’t hide her astonishment. Though the letters were crudely written, they were all correct. And at the bottom of the slate Daniel had printed his name.
“Who taught you this?” she asked.
“My brother,” he said proudly.
“Gilbert?”
He nodded. “He taught me how to make my letters in the sand, with a stick.” His voice lowered. “You won’t tell Pa?”
She glanced over his head to where his older brother sat, his hands shoved into his pockets, his gaze fixed on his desktop. Then she returned her attention to Daniel. “Your father wouldn’t like it if he found out Gilbert is teaching you?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Thank you, Daniel. You may return to your desk.” To the class she called, “We’ll work on our sums now.”
While the younger children worked on simple addition, the older ones were given columns of figures to add. As she walked among them, helping, encouraging, Pearl found herself mulling over what she’d learned. It would appear that Rollie Ingram had indeed had a very sudden change of heart. Despite the fact that he had previously disapproved of his sons learning, he had dragged them to school today.
Hadn’t he said that his encounter with Cal had caused him to see the light?
Her heart began to slip free of a heavy burden as she continued moving among the children, offering praise and encouragement. It was the start of a new week. And the dawn of a new day for the children of Hanging Tree. And especially for the unhappy sons of Rollie Ingram.
“It’s such a lovely spring day, I think we’ll take our lunch outside,” Pearl announced.
The children scampered to the back of the room to retrieve the baskets their parents had prepared for them. Seeing that Daniel and Gilbert had none, she picked up her basket and said, “I’d like you two to sit beside me. I have more than enough food to share.”
“We don’t need anything,” Gilbert said. When his little brother opened his mouth to argue, he added firmly, “We had lots to eat this morning, before we set out for school.”
“I’m sure you did.” Pearl chose a grassy spot beneath a tree, where she spread out a cloth, then began unpacking the basket. She unwrapped several slices of sourdough bread piled high with thinly sliced roast beef.
Without a word, she handed one to Daniel and another to Gilbert. Before the older bo
y could protest, Daniel bit into the sandwich and rolled his eyes heavenward.
“Ummm...Gilbert’s a good cook, Miss Jewel,” he managed to say around a mouth filled with food. “But he sure can’t make anything that tastes like this.”
“You do the cooking?” Pearl asked the boy beside her.
“Yes’m.” He ducked his head and decided to follow his little brother’s lead by tasting the teacher’s lunch.
Pearl watched as they devoured their food in a couple of bites. She broke her last sandwich into several more pieces and placed them in front of the boys. Then she unwrapped a mound of flaky biscuits that had been split and drizzled with honey, and blessed Carmelita for always sending too much food.
“I could never eat all this,” she said, setting the tempting confections down.
Daniel was the first to taste them. And, Pearl noted, Gilbert didn’t reach for one until he was satisfied that his little brother had eaten all he could. Then he reached for a biscuit and ate it slowly, savoring every crumb.
Pearl opened a jar of lemonade and took several sips before silently passing it to Gilbert. He seemed startled that she would share even this, but, without a word, he drank, then passed it on to his brother.
“That was just about the best food I’ve ever eaten,” the little boy said as he wiped his mouth on his ragged sleeve.
“I’m glad you enjoyed it. Now you may run and play with the others for a few minutes, until it’s time to return to the classroom.”
“Play?” Daniel asked.
“Climb the tree or play a game of tag.” She paused, and realized with a start that the little boy had no idea what play was. Quickly composing herself, she called, “April, May and June. Would you like to play a game of tag with Daniel?”
“Yes, Miss Jewel,” they said in unison.
“Fine. But first, you’ll have to explain the rules.”
Pearl Page 12
