Shaking off his somber thoughts, he headed to the general store where the mail coach made its stop. He flipped open his pocket watch. Ten minutes. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a movement. Ian slithered from building to building, looking behind him, hiding the fact he carried a bouquet of flowers.
Mitch smiled and waved his son over. “I’ll take that.” He accepted the flowers and leaned against the post holding the new gas lights the town had recently installed. Another improvement of which he was proud.
“We all ready for our new teacher?” Ray Morrow, the mayor of Dogtown, strolled up to Mitch, shifting his ever present cigar from one side of his mouth to the other.
“Sure are. I checked the repairs on the schoolteacher’s house yesterday.” A small house was part of the teacher’s salary. Rodents had eaten away a portion of the floor in the kitchen while the place had remained vacant since the last teacher left several months ago.
“I hear that mountain lion took out two of Casper’s sheep last night,” Mitch said.
“We have to get a group up to rid ourselves of that animal.” Ray poked the air with his cigar. “A hunting party needs to be brought up at the town council meeting tonight.”
Mitch nodded. “Good idea. We can’t have the creature terrorizing our farmers.”
The mayor slapped Mitch on the back. “Our teacher should be here soon. Smart move to hire an older woman this time, Mitch.”
“I agree.” He checked his watch once more. “Five minutes.”
Priscilla smoothed the wrinkles in her blue linen dress. The ride from Denver to Dogtown on the mail coach had been the worst part of her journey. Because of the unseasonably warm weather for the Rockies, Mr. Boswick, who drove the coach, had left the flaps on the side of the coach open to allow for a breeze. However, it had also let in small bugs that Priscilla had practically choked on. At least the man had closed the flaps when they’d ridden through a heavy rainstorm.
She wiped sweat from her forehead and upper lip and pushed back the damp curls sticking to her face under her bonnet. If she wasn’t so nervous about her subterfuge, she would be thrilled to hear Mr. Boswick call over his shoulder that they were only about ten minutes outside of Dogtown.
After all, how important could age be for a teaching position? She was fresh out of college and had brought along an entire trunk loaded down with books, slates, and teaching supplies. Her head was full of ideas on new methods of teaching. She was anxious to meet her students and start introducing them to the better things in life that education provided.
The coach began to slow down as the edge of town came into view. She was surprised to see a small but tidy town. She moved from one side of the coach to the other, taking in the houses that lined the streets. Most of them were snug homes with white picket fences around them, many with flower gardens. Several children stopped playing and watched the coach pass by. Apparently word had spread that the new teacher was arriving on the mail coach. Two little girls holding hands waved at her.
Several women strolled the boardwalk, cloth shopping bags dangling from their arms as they chatted with each other. They also stopped and watched the coach pass. Parents of her students, she surmised.
Goodness, it appeared everyone in town was anxious to see her. She took a deep breath and smiled at the women and waved back to the children. This would be her home from now on. Excitement coursed through her. She swung her head to the left when Mr. Boswick shouted, “That there is the schoolhouse.”
A small red building sat on a lot by itself. A clapboard house was partially visible from the road. She’d been told by Mr. Beaumont, who had hired her, that a house came with the teacher’s job. That must be the house he’d written about. Once more she wiped her upper lip.
They came to a rolling stop, and Priscilla’s stomach lurched, threatening to bring up the breakfast she’d eaten before they left Denver three hours earlier. She peeked out the side of the coach and saw two men and a boy standing on the boardwalk in front of the mercantile. One of the men held a bouquet of flowers. Since she was the only passenger and it was obvious the men waited for the coach, the flowers must be for the new teacher.
Mr. Boswick brought the coach to a complete stop and jumped off. He lowered the steps on the side of the coach. “We’re here, miss. And it looks like you have a welcoming committee.”
Taking another deep breath, Priscilla clutched her reticule and made her way to the doorway. She accepted Mr. Boswick’s hand and took the two steps to the ground. She smiled brightly at the two men. The younger one looked puzzled. “Are you Miss Cochran?”
“Yes.”
He continued to stare at her.
“Are you Mr. Beaumont?”
He nodded, still gaping. Wondering if they were going to stand there all afternoon just gawking at each other, she stuck her hand out and moved forward. Her foot slipped out from under her on the wet, slick ground, and, arms flailing, she landed face first in the mud at Mr. Beaumont’s feet.
Two strong hands gripped her arms and pulled her up, a sucking sound coming from the action. Mud dripping from her face, dropping in clumps down her dress and cape, she shook the mess from her hands.
Mr. Beaumont shoved the flowers at her and placed his hands on his hips. “A woman of mature years, Miss Cochran?”
Chapter 2
Priscilla raised her chin, swiping at the clumps of mud dropping to the ground. “Excuse me, Mr. Beaumont. I am happy to meet you, but now that you have greeted me, I would appreciate being escorted to my house so I may clean up and get warm.” She pulled the sodden flaps of her wet, ruined cape together. Rocky Mountain air was much cooler than Oklahoma.
The man’s eyes flashed. “No, Miss Cochran.” He pointed at a surprised Mr. Boswick. “The only place you’re going is back on that mail coach and return to wherever it is you came from.”
Ready to fight, she stood her ground. “I will not, sir.” She waved the bouquet in his face. “I have a signed contract to teach in Dogtown for one year.”
“Under false pretenses. You lied,” he growled.
She stamped her foot, splashing mud on the bottom of his trousers. “I did not.”
Mr. Beaumont stabbed the air with his index finger in front of her face. “You said you were of mature years.”
She shoved his finger aside. “Well, I’m not a child, am I?”
“Hold on here, now.” The man who had been standing with Mr. Beaumont, his head swiveling back and forth as she and Mr. Beaumont traded words, stepped up to her. “Miss Cochran, allow me to introduce myself. I am Mr. Raymond Morrow, the mayor of Dogtown.”
Giving him a warm smile, she took a deep breath and smoothed the front of her mud-splattered cape. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Morrow.” She extended her dirty gloved hand and glared at Mr. Beaumont who stretched his neck muscles.
The mayor looked askance at her hand, took it lightly and continued. “I think at this point, you have the right of it, Miss Cochran. You need to clean yourself up and change into something warm.” He nodded at Mr. Beaumont. “This can all be cleared up after the lady is more comfortable, Mitch.”
She’d started to shiver during the exchange and now she found it hard to even speak. Lord, the cold water and mud had seeped all the way to her skin.
Mr. Beaumont fisted his hands on his hips. “No, she has to get back on that coach.”
The mayor ran his fingers through his hair. “Now, Mitch, be reasonable. The girl is shaking. The mail coach leaves from here three days a week. If the two of you can’t get this sorted out, she can catch another ride. Now we have to take care of her, and we can talk about this at the town meeting tonight.”
Mitch strode up to Mr. Boswick and pointed at the coach. “Don’t unload all those trunks. The lady isn’t staying.”
The three men got into an argument. Priscilla noticed a young boy standing a few feet back from the men. He looked enough like Mr. Beaumont to probably be his son. And most likely, one of her new students.
She walked up to him and placed her hand on his shoulder. She quickly took it off to see a mud stain there. She winced. “My name is Miss Cochran, and I assume you will be one of my students?”
The boy gazed up at her with a look she’d been warned about in her education classes. A young boy’s crush on his teacher. He licked his lips and blushed red under his tanned skin. “Yes, ma’am.”
She offered him a warm smile. “Perhaps you can direct me to the nearest hotel? I would like to get cleaned up and into something warm while the men deal with this.”
“Um, sorry, ma’am—I mean Miss Cochran—but there isn’t a hotel here in town. Your house is over there, behind the schoolhouse.” He waved across the street.
“Do you suppose it’s open?”
“I don’t know, but I’ll be glad to walk you over there.”
He was a sweet little boy, probably about ten or eleven years old, with much better manners than his father. The child must have taken his temperament from his mother. “Thank you so much.”
“What is your name?” she asked as they started across the street to the sound of the men still shouting.
“Ian Beaumont, ma’am.”
So he was Mr. Beaumont’s son. She pitied the poor woman married to the man if this was any indication of how he treated women. They walked quietly side by side until they reached a small house behind and to the left of the school. Ian raced ahead and tried the doorknob. He grinned at her as he opened the door.
It was a pleasant house, the whole thing only about twice the size of her bedroom at home, but she could see herself very comfortable here. Ian led her through the parlor, which the front door opened into, to the snug kitchen behind it. To the left was a bedroom. From what she could see, there was a dresser with a mirror, a small desk and a chair, and an iron bed with a very homey looking quilt.
Without her trunks she would have to peel off her wet clothes and after washing up, wrap herself in the blanket while her clothes dried. She turned to Ian. “Thank you so much for bringing me here. Please tell your father I would appreciate my trunks being delivered so I’ll have something to wear.”
“Yes, ma’am. I’ll tell him that.” Ian began to back away toward the front door, probably anxious to leave once she’d mentioned undressing. He banged into the wall, turned and left the house, closing the door smartly.
Priscilla removed her bonnet and cape and laid them over one of the two kitchen chairs. She went to the sink and pumped the handle, grateful to see clean water splash into the sink. She gave her hands and face a wash and, not finding a towel, dried them on the part of her skirt that was still clean.
She checked the stove and found a pile of kindling someone had thoughtfully placed inside. She took the flint from the shelf over the oven and lit the small pieces of wood, blowing on it until the fire caught. After taking a quick look around, she spotted the firewood box near the back door and, taking two small logs, shoved them into the stove, already enjoying the warmth.
After checking the shelves underneath the counter that ran against the far wall, she found a large pot that she filled with water and set on the stove. Making sure the windows were covered, she shimmied out of her clothes, stripping all the way to her skin. She unbuttoned her half boots and peeled off her stockings, then made a beeline to the bed and yanked the quilt off, wrapping herself in it.
Dragging a chair close to the stove, she enjoyed the warmth while she waited for the water to warm. She wondered how the argument was proceeding out on the street. Well, she was no shrinking violet. She had a contract signed by the mayor of Dogtown. Despite what that dreadful Mr. Beaumont had said, she had no intention of returning home. She was here, and here is where she would stay.
Mitch waved his hand in disgust as Boswick unloaded Miss Cochran’s trunks from the coach and piled them onto the boardwalk. How the hell many dresses did a teacher need, anyway? “If we let this woman stay, I guarantee she’ll be back on that coach in less than a week. I don’t see the point in getting the parents all stirred up about school starting and then have the damn thing close down again.”
“Look, Mitch. Like it or not, the woman is here now.” Ray turned, looking around. “I thought she was here. Where did she go?”
Boswick dropped a satchel on top of the pile of trunks. “While y’all were shouting at each other to wake the dead, little Ian walked her over to the teacher’s house behind the school.”
“At least someone in your family has manners,” Ray quipped.
The mail coach driver placed his hands on his hips and spit out a stream of tobacco juice. “I gotta get moving here, so y’all can take care of seeing to Miss Cochran’s trunks. I’ll be back around again on Saturday if she wants to leave then. Right now I have deliveries to make which ain’t gettin’ done with me standing here listening to you two squabbling like a couple of women.”
“Pa, Miss Cochran said she’d like her trunks brought over.” Ian hurried up to him, his face flushed.
“Oh, she did, did she? Well, of course, I’m sure the princess is used to people jumping at her command.” Mitch reached down and hefted one of the trunks onto his shoulder. “I’ll take these over to the house,” he said to the mayor. “You go on about your business. I’ll stop by your place tonight before the town council meeting to discuss this.”
Ray nodded and headed toward his home where he conducted his law practice.
“Ian, get your chores done before you deliver the newspapers the mail coach just dropped off. I’ll be going to the mayor’s house later on, so reheat that leftover stew from last night for your supper,” Mitch called over his shoulder as he settled the trunk more comfortably, then headed across the street.
He placed the trunk in front of the house and returned to the boardwalk to get the second trunk, then a third. His last trip to the teacher’s house he picked up a satchel and some type of box. The woman certainly had a lot of clothes. Did she come to teach or parade up and down the boardwalk in her finery? Lord help us, he hoped she wasn’t planning on finding a husband here. He shook his head and pounded on the front door.
The portal opened, and Miss Cochran stuck her head out. “Oh, thank goodness.” She pulled the door back to allow him to enter, and Mitch almost lost his teeth. She was wrapped in a quilt, and, from the sight of her naked shoulders, nothing else.
Heat rose to his face as he quickly glanced down at the trunk and dragged it into the room. Taking care to avoid looking in her direction, he pulled the second and third trunk inside, then the box and satchel. “Here you are.”
“Thank you, Mr. Beaumont.” She tugged the blanket tighter around her body. “I believe when I am dressed, we should have a meeting. I would like to go over my plans for the school. How soon we can open and so forth.”
He looked at a spot over her left shoulder.
Her naked left shoulder.
“This hasn’t been settled, Miss Cochran. You gave false information when you applied for this job.”
“Please, Mr. Beaumont. Perhaps I am not as old as you believed, but I am still a teacher, a graduate of a fine Normal School in Oklahoma, and anxious to teach the children of Dogtown.”
Straightening up, he stared her directly in the eye, trying very hard not to have his eyes wander. “There is a small restaurant at the end of the next block, going west, called Pappy’s. I will meet you then when you are…ready.”
She nodded and the blanket slipped a bit. He turned and hurried from the house like the hounds of hell were after him.
Priscilla put the finishing touches on her hair then pivoted in front of the mirror to check her appearance. A sponge bath, clean dry clothes, and warmth from the stove cheered her considerably from how she’d arrived at her little house.
She looked around the bedroom, already planning how she would make it her own. She really would have preferred to stay right where she was, unpack, and put her house in order, but getting Mr. Beaumont to accept her had to be first on her list. Since she hadn’t been given
a key, she hoped the town was as honest as it looked as she closed the door and headed toward the restaurant Mr. Beaumont had mentioned.
She regarded the town as she strolled the boardwalk. Men tipped their hats and ladies nodded in her direction. It was definitely a far cry from her well-settled hometown, Guthrie, but two new buildings going up at the end of the road showed promise. Hopefully she could make a difference for the children in the town. She was anxious to unpack her books and school supplies and get her classroom set up.
A melodious chime rang as she entered the small restaurant. It was a cozy place, with red-and-white checkered tablecloths on the dozen or so tables. Oil lamps sat in the middle of each table, with whimsical salt and pepper shakers bordering the lamps. The room smelled of something sweet, most likely pie.
Mr. Beaumont immediately stood as she approached the table where he sat in the front of the dining area She raised her chin, ready to do battle, with no intention of turning tail and running. She smiled brightly and took the chair he held out for her. “Thank you.”
“I’d like to buy you supper, Miss Cochran. Mrs. Pappy makes a wonderful pot roast.”
“Yes. I would like that. I must admit I have a hearty appetite. My brothers always teased me about it.” She took the napkin at her place and shook it out, laying it neatly on her lap.
“Tell me about your family. You have a brother?”
She thanked the waitress who filled their coffee cups, then took their orders for the pot roast supper. She turned to Mitch as she put sugar and cream into her cup and stirred. “I have four brothers.”
“Four?”
“Yes. My brother Paul is a pharmacist. He works with our cousin, Michael, in his pharmacy in Guthrie. My brother Henry—my twin—is enrolled at the University of Oklahoma Medical School. Benjamin just started college in Texas—my parents weren’t pleased at his defection—and Andrew, who is only four, is ready to start school next year.”
Merry Christmas, My Love Page 11
