Mr. Beaumont shook his head. “What in God’s name are you doing here, woman?”
She raised her eyebrows. “What do you mean?”
“We are a small town. A backwards town, I’m sure, from your way of thinking. Why would you take this job with the sort of family you come from?”
She tilted her head to one side. “What does one have to do with the other?”
“Don’t play games with me, Miss Cochran.” He leaned forward, his eyes flashing. “If you’re here as a lark, as a way to have something to write in your journal so when you return home you can read it to your society friends and laugh, we don’t need you, nor do we want you.”
“How dare you?” She sucked in a breath as heat rose to her face. “I’ll have you know I am a serious teacher. I am well educated and want very much to bring the outside world to the children of Dogtown. Education lifts one up and opens up an entire new world.”
“Is that so? And I guess you think we’re a bunch of ruffians who can’t read or write unless someone who is ‘well educated’ comes and bestows us with their presence so they can ‘lift us up’?”
“Vous êtes un homme impossible,” Priscilla mumbled under her breath, then took a deep breath as the waitress approached the table, giving them both a guarded look. Pulling herself together, Priscilla smiled at the girl. “Thank you so much. I’m quite hungry, and it looks and smells wonderful.”
Mitch’s lips twitched at Miss Cochran’s “you are an impossible man” comment. A rebuke on his tongue, he stopped himself and decided to allow Miss Cochran her illusion that Dogtown citizens were somehow below her, and certainly would never know a foreign language. He’d learned French right along with English and Crow as a child. All three languages were spoken in his home and he’d done the same with Ian.
“Look, Miss Cochran, you seem like a nice girl—”
“—woman.” She glared at him, her fork and knife fisted in her hands on either side of her plate.
“—and I’m sure you mean well, and you probably even think you have a lot to share with our children. However, it’s obvious to me you come from a much grander, shall we say, lifestyle than what you will experience here.”
“And you assume since my brothers and I are well educated that somehow we look down on people? Are you saying I’m a snob?”
Mitch shrugged and started to eat. This woman was even worse than the last one. At least when Miss Fisher had arrived, she’d known from the start she didn’t belong in Dogtown. Miss Cochran was a stubborn woman who wanted to “do good.” In his estimation, the scariest type of people in the world.
“You seem to forget I have a contract, Mr. Beaumont, signed by your mayor.”
Mitch pointed his fork at her. “A contract that was offered under false pretenses.”
“How do you figure that? I am a certified teacher with a degree in education from the Central State Normal School of Oklahoma. I am qualified to teach students from first grade right through high school.”
“On the letter you sent, you indicated you were a ‘woman of mature years.’”
“I am.”
He pushed his plate back and crossed his arms over his chest. “How old are you, Miss Cochran?”
“Sir, it is rude to ask a woman her age.” She sniffed.
“Don’t play with me, Miss Cochran. How old are you?”
She sighed. “Twenty-one.”
His raised eyebrows had her stuttering.
“Well, close to twenty-one.”
“How close?”
“Six months.”
He snorted. “As a member of the town council, and the person designated to hire the teacher, I have a responsibility to this town. They rely on me to make sure who we hire stays so the children can have a consistent education.”
“Fine,” she said, pushing her empty plate away. “Then let the town decide if I should stay.”
“What?”
“I heard the mayor mention a town meeting tonight. Let me present my credentials to the townspeople and have them vote on it.” When he hesitated, she added, “Unless you’re afraid not everyone is as narrow-minded as you are.”
He pulled on the cuffs of his shirt. “I am not narrow-minded.”
Miss Cochran leaned forward, her large hazel eyes boring into his. Then she said two words that got his blood pumping and put him in a frame of mind to do battle.
“Prove it.”
Chapter 3
“What I want to know is what the town going to do about that damn—sorry, ladies—mountain lion? It got three of my chickens last night.” A heavyset man wearing a flannel shirt and overalls addressed the men of the town council.
“That animal is a fast one, ‘cause he got two of mine,” a tall, thin man with a very long mustache shouted from the back of the room.
Priscilla sat in the front row, facing the table across the front of the room with the five members of the town council sitting behind it. The mayor sat in the middle, Mr. Beaumont on his right. The meeting had attracted quite a few of the townspeople. Or so it seemed to her, since she was unfamiliar with the population of Dogtown.
Many of the attendees seemed to be parents of school-aged children. A few older folks were sprinkled about, looking just as interested. She was thrilled at the response to the last minute addition to the meeting’s agenda to discuss the new teacher. At least these people were serious about education, which would make her job that much easier.
“We’re working on the mountain lion situation, Harvey. I think the marshal here is going to get a group together to go out there one night this week.” The mayor addressed another man sitting at the head table. “Isn’t that right, Marshal?”
A man with the star of law enforcement on his chest stood and addressed the entire group. “Yep. Anyone who wants to join up, give me your name after the meeting and we’ll decide on a night.”
Apparently satisfied with the answer, the man named Harvey sat and nodded to the man next to him.
“Next on the agenda is our new teacher.” The mayor smiled in Priscilla’s direction. “She has asked that she be allowed to address the town to lay out her plans for the school.”
Priscilla stood and smoothed out her skirt. She had taken care with her appearance, wanting to look professional, older, and confident. She’d worn a two-piece brown wool suit with a white ruffled blouse. Her hair was pulled back into a very sensible bun. On her nose she wore the clear glass spectacles she only used in the classroom to give herself a more “mature” look.
She walked to the front of the room and turned to address the group. “Good evening. I want to thank all of you for allowing me to address you at your town meeting. I am Miss Priscilla Cochran and very pleased to be here in Dogtown.” Her back stiffened when she heard a light snort behind her, knowing it was that awful Mr. Beaumont.
“I am a graduate of the Central State Normal School of Oklahoma and hold a certification to teach children from first grade all the way through high school.”
“Yeah, but will you stick around?” A tall, slender woman in the third row shouted from where she sat.
The man sitting next to her nodded. “We have five children, and we want them in school. We try to teach them at home, but we’re busy with our chores. The last teacher that came here only lasted two weeks.”
From the corner of her eye, Priscilla saw Mr. Beaumont nodding his head vigorously. She would not let them get away with this. “I have every intention of being here as long as you want me to be. I love teaching and am committed to improving children’s lives through education.”
“Sounds all right to me,” the woman said. Her husband nodded his agreement.
A woman in the back row gingerly raised her hand.
“Yes?” Priscilla smiled at her.
“Miss Cochran, you mentioned going to school in Oklahoma. Are you from Oklahoma?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Are you any relation to Senator Jesse Cochran?”
Priscilla
felt all the blood drain from her face. Lord, if Mr. Beaumont learned of her connection to Papa before the town approved her contract, he would surely ship her back. The man was more of a snob than he claimed her to be.
“I am,” she mumbled, looking around. “Are there any more questions before I continue with my plans for the school?”
The woman sat down, appearing a bit puzzled by her vague answer, but Mr. Beaumont, curse his hide, leaned forward and said, “Exactly what is your relation to the United States senator. Miss Cochran?”
She drew herself up and looked him square in the eye. “Senator Jesse Cochran is my father.”
Mitch quelled the desire to slap his hand on the table and shout, “I told you so.” This woman was here for a lark. Nobody with her background and connections would last long in a small, backwoods town. Not that he thought Dogtown would remain a backwoods town for long. If he had his way, the town would grow considerably in this new century and be a thriving, pleasant place to live very shortly.
He had his own aspirations. One day he wanted to be mayor, and then maybe a state senator. In fact, known for his family values and integrity, Senator Cochran had always been one of his favorite public figures. That he hadn’t connected Miss Cochran to that well-known and highly respected man before someone else brought it up annoyed the hell out of him.
His attention was drawn back to the room where Miss Cochran laid out her plans for the school.
“Aside from the usual arithmetic, spelling, reading, writing, history, and geography, I plan to incorporate science into my curriculum for the children. I also have had training in helping students who have difficulty learning. Recent studies have shown children who have a problem with reading and writing are not lower in intelligence, their brains merely process information differently than others.”
Excitement grew on her face, her cheeks grew flushed, and she waved her arms around. “There are so many different ways to teach a child. Some children do well if they are able to touch the letters. Cutting out the alphabet and letting them trace the letters with their fingers helps.”
Mrs. Davis, mother to three children, stood and addressed the group. “My son has always had trouble reading. The last teacher suggested I take him out of school because he’ll never learn.”
“No!” Miss Cochran’s forceful word startled the group. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to shout, but that is the absolute wrong thing to do. I promise you once your son is my student, he will learn to read.”
Mitch slumped in his chair. Miss Cochran had swayed the group in her favor. He glanced at Ray who smiled at him and shrugged. Apparently the mayor was as much mesmerized by the woman’s words as everyone else. The mumbling among the group told him he’d lost. Nods and smiles in Miss Cochran’s direction were all the vote he needed.
Mrs. Gillis, the owner of the boardinghouse who had the care of her granddaughter, stood. “When will school open, Miss Cochran?”
The teacher whipped around and looked directly at Mitch, her chin raised, challenge in her eyes. “When, Mr. Beaumont?”
Score one for the society woman.
He had to smile at her fire and passion. Until then he hadn’t noticed how very attractive the town’s new teacher was. A few wisps of her golden brown hair had come loose from her bun and dangled alongside her face. Her flushed cheeks, bright eyes, and dimpled smile of triumph had him squirming in his seat. He had no desire or intention of falling under the woman’s spell as the rest of the town apparently had. He dipped his chin in gracious defeat. “As soon as you are ready to open the doors, Miss Cochran.”
She turned back to face the group. “Monday morning at eight o’clock.”
Half an hour later Mitch walked up behind Miss Cochran, who was holding court with several of the parents. “I will walk you home when you’re ready.”
“That’s not necessary.”
“Yes, it is. I’ll be by the door.”
Shortly after their exchange, the enthusiastic group surrounding the teacher broke up and headed for home.
Miss Cochran shrugged into her coat and buttoned it as she walked toward him. “I’m ready, but I don’t feel it is necessary for you to walk me home. It’s only a few blocks.”
“Nevertheless, I will walk you. We certainly don’t want anything to happen to our new teacher.”
She studied him, her face showing confusion as to the sincerity of his remarks. He wasn’t sure himself.
They stepped into the cool night air. “I guess you won, Miss Cochran.”
“No. To my way of thinking, the town won, Mr. Beaumont. The children will have school, the parents are happy, and I am here to stay.”
He chuckled at her determination. A small niggle of doubt teased the back of his mind.
Maybe I misjudged her.
He shoved the thought away. Just give the U.S. senator’s daughter a couple of weeks here, and she’ll be high tailing it back to Oklahoma. And good riddance. The last thing he needed was to feel as though he had to look after her.
“I’m surprised your wife didn’t attend the meeting. I thought she would be interested in hearing about the school for Ian.” She looked at him with mischievous eyes. “Unless you don’t allow her out of the house? Keep her locked up and in the kitchen?”
He shrugged. “My wife is dead.”
Priscilla felt her stomach drop to her feet like a stone. Dead? That sweet little boy had no mother? “I’m so sorry. I had no idea, or I wouldn’t have been so flippant. Please forgive me.”
He took her elbow as they stepped from the boardwalk to cross the street. “Don’t trouble yourself; it was a long time ago. Right after Ian was born.”
“He is a sweet little boy. How old is he?”
His grin showed her the pride he held for his son. “Eleven.”
“Does he like school?”
“Unfortunately he hasn’t had a whole lot of formal schooling since we’ve had a hard time with teachers. I’ve worked with him whenever he was between regular instruction.”
Most likely she had her work cut out for her. Patchy schooling made it difficult for a child. It would be important for her to make sure she covered all the basics and tested each child to see where they were in their education. Just the thought of having her own classroom had excitement and anticipation swirling through her. She so loved teaching. “I’m looking forward to having him in school. And all the other students. How many are there?”
“Last count about twenty or so.”
They reached her front door and, before entering, she turned to him. “One of my trunks is packed with books and teaching supplies. Can you have someone carry it over to the school when you have a chance? I’d like to get the classroom set up as soon as possible so it’s all ready for Monday.”
Illumination from the gas streetlight bathed them in a soft glow, allowing Priscilla to focus on the man’s strong features. His high cheekbones, straight black chin-length hair, and tan skin spoke of Indian ancestry. His deep brown eyes bordered by long black eyelashes held her captive as he spoke. “Certainly. I’ll be by in the morning before I open my shop.”
She gave him a questioning glance. “Which shop do you own?”
“The gun shop.” He crossed his arms over his chest, which she was beginning to realize he did when he was about to accuse her of something. “I’m sure guns are on your disapproval list.”
She smiled inwardly. The man really did have her wrong. “Not at all. I’ve handled a gun or two in my life.” No point in telling him she’d won the shooting contest at the last Annual Guthrie Land Run festival, beating out not only her three older brothers, but the other men in the contest as well. Every year she was the lone woman who entered and was permitted that honor because four years ago her women’s rights cousin, Ellie, had fought the Festival officials to allow her entrance.
He tipped his hat. “Good night, Miss Cochran, I will see you in the morning.”
Priscilla entered her house and turned the lock on the doorkn
ob. She must remember to ask Mr. Beaumont for a key.
She removed her coat and hung it in the bare closet. With tomorrow being Thursday, she didn’t have a lot of time to get both her house and the school set up by Monday. It seemed days, instead of hours, since she’d first arrived in Dogtown. At least after tonight’s meeting she was certain of her place in the community.
Everyone she’d met seemed excited to have her in their town. Now if she could only convince Mr. Beaumont that she intended to stay and she was anything but a high society woman. There were no more down-to-earth people than her parents. They would never have tolerated a princess in their house. And any woman raised with four brothers could hold her own.
As she shimmied out of her clothes and rummaged around in her trunk for a nightgown, she thought about Mr. Beaumont. He was a widower and had been one for many years. Something about him drew her interest. Maybe it was simply because his place in town represented a challenge for her.
Strolling around in her nightgown, she finally got the opportunity to check her kitchen and was pleased to see her pantry had been stocked with jars of canned fruits and vegetables. Her refrigerator had a supply of eggs, milk, cheese, and butter. There was flour, coffee, tea, sugar, rice, oats, and beans. It would be awhile before she ran out of food.
Despite wishing to relish having her own house that she shared with no one else, fatigue from the day’s events, starting with her ride on the mail coach from Denver that morning, had crept up on her. With a healthy yawn, she padded into the bedroom and crawled into the bed, satisfied with its comfort. After a lifelong habit of saying a quick prayer of thanks, she drifted off to sleep.
The next morning she awoke with a sense of anticipation. She lay in bed and studied the cozy room. Once she got the schoolroom set up, she would paint the walls of her bedroom a nice light blue—totally different from her cream-colored walls at home. That would match the lovely blue-and-tan quilt her cousin’s wife, Heidi, had made for her.
Merry Christmas, My Love Page 12
