She shook her head slightly but winced at the movement. She let him guide her head back. She was still sitting up, mostly, her skirts spread over her legs, her head tipped back toward the sky. Her eyes closed against the bright sunlight. He tried to ignore the softness of her skin beneath his fingertips.
“Is Ruth hurbt?” Her words were muffled beneath the handkerchief.
He glanced at his sister, who was watching, her face carefully blank.
"She's got a bump on her noggin. She'll be fine." His temper flared, but he crushed it. This wasn't the time to deal with Ruth.
“Thank goodness.”
Cecilia might not be so glad if she knew that Ruth had done it on purpose, as he suspected.
"Let me see," he ordered.
She tried to bat his hand away. "It was an accident. I'b fine." But her words were still muffled, and a tear ran out of the corner of her eye.
"Let me see how bad it is, and then I'll walk you back to the boardinghouse."
Her eyes narrowed in a glare, but she complied, allowing him to move the handkerchief for just a moment. The nosebleed was already slowing. But the skin around her left eye was forming a bruise. She would have a shiner.
Her nose was straight and perfect. He wanted to run one finger along the bridge of it but quashed the impulse. Her eyelashes were long and dark, and for one second, he felt a sensation grip him that he’d never known before.
He realized how close they were, and that people were starting to walk toward them, trying to check on the new schoolteacher. He didn't want her to feel embarrassed. He let go of her face, and she seemed to catch her breath.
He helped her stand and then frowned when he saw the drops of blood staining her skirt. It was a beautiful dress, and the blood likely wouldn't come out. Ruth had a lot to answer for.
Ruth had moved several steps away and was whispering and giggling with Minnie and Lee. He would have to deal with her later, after he made sure Cecilia was all right.
"Let me help you up,” he said.
She looked as if she might argue, but he didn’t allow her time. He marched her across the field.
He couldn’t account for the sudden beat of attraction he’d felt. He’d endured Mrs. Fitzgerald’s teasing earlier because he was used to her gentle matchmaking attempts and because he’d promised himself when his parents died that he was going to put Ruth first. He wasn’t in a rush to marry.
Until now, he’d never been drawn to someone so strongly.
What was he going to do?
If Cecilia discovered that Ruth had given her a bloody nose and black eye on purpose, would she continue to be an ally for his sister? Or would this afternoon’s events turn her into an enemy?
4
The following Saturday morning, Cecilia pushed away from the tiny desk in her upstairs bedroom and donned her coat. She would buy the gloves for Velma. She needed a break from lesson plans and grading, and the brief walk into town would be invigorating.
After all, she was planning to take the stage home in a few weeks. Velma’s thirteenth birthday was quickly approaching. A weekend visit wasn’t nearly long enough, but it would have to do. She longed to see her family. Surely one of Mama’s hugs would set everything to rights.
The autumn wind was brisk, and it was a relief to step inside the dry goods store.
"Your black eye is fading,” Mr. Jamison called to her from behind the counter.
He was speaking to two women that Cecilia didn’t know, and both turned to glance curiously at her. She smiled tightly.
Thanks to her impromptu decision to play with the children, she had taught every day this week looking as if she’d been in a barroom brawl. She certainly didn't count herself as a great beauty, but her pride was stung nonetheless.
On Monday morning, when the first students had trickled in and noticed her black eye, whispers had commenced. And they hadn’t stopped since. Her youngest students seemed to think she was brave and strong because of it. They had been studious and attentive throughout their lessons for the week. Likewise, Asher and Caleb had been making strides in their learning.
It was the children in the middle that Cecilia was having trouble with. Minnie, Jericho, Edward, and Lee. And Ruth.
While Ruth was attentive in class, Cecilia felt something was off. She couldn't tell whether the girl was parroting back correct answers because she thought that's what Cecilia wanted to hear. There was more to learning than recitation, after all. Ruth seemed to be the instigator behind the whispers and restlessness in class, but every time Cecilia glanced at her, the girl was looking down at her desk, a perfect angel.
It was clear that Cecilia hadn't won her over. It was also clear that the girl was not doing the additional work Cecilia had assigned her outside of the classroom.
Cecilia couldn’t wait to ask her mother’s advice. Sarah had been a teacher before she’d married Oscar, and she also managed a houseful of children. She would know what to do. Maybe Cecilia shouldn’t wait. If she could find a telephone and some privacy, perhaps she could talk to her mother soon.
She located the kid gloves and picked them up. They were so soft that she gave a passing thought to keeping them for herself. She perused colorful thread on a nearby display. Perhaps she would embroider something for her mother for Christmas.
Mr. Jamison was finishing up with his customers, wrapping their purchases.
The bell hung above the door jangled, and when Cecilia looked up, Ruth walked in. She was alone, her head down, looking at a leather baseball glove on a display low to the floor. She didn’t seem to see her teacher.
Cecilia didn’t want to pressure the girl to be friendly outside the classroom. It was already awkward facing her at the breakfast and dinner tables. Other students didn’t have to live beneath the same roof as their teacher. While Mrs. Fitzgerald and even John were kind and solicitous, Ruth only pretended. And they both knew it.
Cecilia remained determined to befriend the girl, no matter what it took.
She was turning to the counter to pay for the gloves when she saw Ruth reach into one of the candy jars and then slip something into her pocket.
Had she just seen—?
The girl moved away from the counter and loitered at a display of children's toys. She never looked Cecilia’s direction, leaving as silently as she’d entered.
Cecilia glanced around the shop. Surely she had not been the only one to witness what had just happened.
Outside, Ruth crossed in front of the large picture window. Cecilia saw her pop something into her mouth. The candy she had just nicked.
What should Cecilia do? Should she say something to Mr. Jamison?
He was frowning a little as his previous customers shuffled out of the store. Cecilia approached, and his expression cleared. "Finally decided on the gloves?"
She placed them on the counter, the thread on top of them.
He took a square of brown paper from behind the counter and began to wrap her purchases as if nothing were amiss. If he hadn’t noticed, perhaps she could confront Ruth herself…
But after a moment, she found she couldn't stay silent. "Mr. Jamison, did you see—?”
"She comes in every once in a while and pinches a piece." He shrugged. "I figure it doesn't hurt."
"I happen to disagree. Theft is theft, even if it’s something small as a penny candy. Have you told her brother?”
His expression turned stormy. “No, and I’d appreciate if you’d stay out of it. Mr. Morgan has done so much for me, and such a small loss isn't hurting anything."
She stared at him, agape. Surely he was joking.
But his expression remained hard as he finished wrapping her purchases and accepted her payment.
The man was willing to let Ruth steal in order to keep the peace? It was unconscionable. Stealing was wrong. And if Ruth didn’t learn that lesson now, what would happen when she grew up?
What if someone else in town found out about it? Found out that Cecilia knew it had happ
ened? She needed the parents and students to trust her. If she went along with this deception, what did that say about her?
And whether or not Mr. Jamison liked and respected John, wouldn’t Ruth’s brother want to know? Didn’t he deserve to know?
She left the dry goods store in a muddle. She didn’t want to jeopardize new friendships with the Jamisons, but she couldn’t just let this go. Could she?
Ruth was sitting on the porch step when Cecilia approached the boardinghouse. Maybe she didn’t have to bring it up to John.
“Do you mind if I sit?”
Ruth eyed her warily. “I guess not.”
She settled on the step beside Ruth, her package in her lap. “I saw what you did at the dry goods store."
The girl grinned. Her teeth were stained red from the candy. "I ain’t hurting nothing. It's just one candy."
"Stealing is wrong."
Ruth wrinkled her nose. "What are you gonna do, snitch to my brother?"
"I shouldn't have to. You should tell him yourself. And you should make things right."
Laughter pealed from Ruth. "You don't know nothing. You need to mind your own beeswax. Leave well enough alone."
Cecilia didn't know where the little girl’s attitude came from. Cecilia’d been nothing but kind and firm in the schoolroom. And she must remain so now. The whole town trusted her to shape young minds. "If you won't tell him, I have no choice but to do it myself."
The girl squinted. "You do that, and then I’ll tell him how you paddled Lee today for no reason.”
Cecilia was struck silent by the unexpected threat.
She hadn't done anything in the classroom she was ashamed of. Corporal punishment was needed sometimes. Today, Lee had continued teasing one of the younger students even after Cecilia had given him a warning. He’d pulled her hair, and Cecilia had been forced to take action.
Ruth must've sensed her shock, because she blurted, “Me and Minnie will tell the whole town that you've been whacking our knuckles. Making us bleed and everything.”
Cecilia had done no such thing. And she didn't like being threatened.
"Are you certain that Minnie will lie for you?"
She saw the doubt in Ruth’s eyes before it was quickly hidden behind a stubborn moue. “I will, I'll tell. It’ll be your word against mine."
The girl stood and walked away from the house, not waiting for Cecilia to answer. She headed out of town, into the field of wildflowers behind Mrs. Fitzgerald’s boardinghouse.
Cecilia was left with stormy thoughts. She didn’t have to involve John. She could punish Ruth in the classroom. Maybe if she was separated from her friends, she would learn to respect Cecilia.
But Cecilia desperately wanted the girl to love learning.
She couldn’t help thinking about how this situation was very similar to what had happened at the end of the last school year. It’ll be your word against mine.
What if John didn’t believe her?
Unexpected tears sprang up, stinging behind her nose. She hadn’t realized how much his good opinion of her meant.
Of course she had to tell him. She had to tell the truth. Even if it meant sacrificing her job.
She couldn’t live with herself if she became the liar Simon had accused her of being.
John had spent the afternoon with the Smith family across town. Strong winds had caused a damaged tree to fall, which had crushed part of their corral fence. He'd spent the afternoon chopping the fallen tree into pieces small enough to be moved, and then another hour helping repair the fence.
He had an active job at the sawmill, but today he’d used muscles that weren’t accustomed to being used. He was worn out and starving and satisfied with what he’d accomplished.
It was after suppertime. He had no doubt Mrs. Fitzgerald had left a plate warming for him on the stove. He would eat and then likely fall into bed. It sounded heavenly.
He washed up in the basin in the mudroom and moved through the house. There was a lamp lit in the parlor.
That’s where he found Miss White, standing over his desk. She looked up when he appeared in the doorway. Her hand rested on the edge of his desk, and there was no way for her to hide that she’d been snooping in his papers strewn across the surface of the desk.
His rumbling stomach forgotten for the moment, he entered the room. "What are you doing?"
She looked chagrined, a bit of color appearing in her cheeks. It didn’t detract from the sight of her fading shiner.
He winced. He’d confronted Ruth about the tackle, but his sister had proclaimed her innocence. He wasn’t sure he believed her.
She tapped one of the pages on top of the nearest stack. "Are you going to sign his contract?"
He crossed his arms over his chest. "I don't see what business that is of yours." The contract was for the new steam engine, and he was ready to make the purchase. He should’ve done it yesterday.
Her expression tightened, losing some of its openness. "It isn't any of my business."
He considered why she might be in here. "Were you looking for me?"
She nodded tightly. “I need to speak with you. It's about Ruth.”
Had she figured out that Ruth’s tackle from Sunday had been on purpose? Or was there something else happening in the classroom, something she hadn't told him?
She twisted her hands in front of her, then seemed to realize what she was doing and dropped them to her sides, where they clenched into fists. "I was at the dry goods store today and your sister came in. I saw her steal a piece of candy. So did Mr. Jamison. When I mentioned it, he asked me not to tell you. He said it's not the first time it’s happened."
He was shocked. That wasn’t what he’d expected to hear at all. "Why would Jamison ask you not to tell me?" Maybe it wasn't the thing he should've focused on, but why would the man keep such a thing secret?
She threw her hands up. "Maybe because everyone in this town seems to think you walk on water."
Any other time, he might've thought it funny that she was perturbed. He would have to talk to Jamison and soon. He didn't want anyone giving Ruth special treatment. If she was causing trouble, he needed to know about it.
"That's not all of it," she said. "I spoke with her afterward and asked her to come clean to you."
He could only imagine what Ruth’s reaction had been. Not good. "What did she say?"
Cecilia shook her head, her eyes not meeting his.
"Tell me."
"I'm sure she will tell you when you mention it to her." Now her chin lifted in the stubborn way he was coming to recognize. "Assuming you intend to confront her."
His eyebrows rose. "Do you think I’ll let her get away with it?"
Her hands clenched at her sides. "You don't seem to care that she isn't doing the work I assigned her outside of class." She shrugged. "What am I to think?"
He gritted his teeth. He’d been working out the best way to get the steam engine delivered and yes, he’d been busy. But he’d also asked Ruth multiple times whether she had any homework. She must've lied to him, too.
"My sister has had a rough time of it, but it's no excuse. Tell me what she is supposed to be working on outside of class." He realized he was ordering Cecilia around as if she were one of his workers. Maybe that was why she was frowning at him so fiercely. "Please," he added belatedly. "It would help if you could let me know what she is supposed to be doing outside of class. I'll make sure she does it."
Her eyes narrowed.
"You don't believe me?"
"Fine,” she said.
That would have to be good enough. Apparently, she didn't think he’d follow through, and he didn’t like that one bit. He had a good reputation in this town for a reason. "If I say I'll do something, then I'll do it."
Her lips firmed, but she didn’t contradict him again. She moved past him and into the hallway. But then she stopped short of the stairs.
She glanced at the desk behind him. "It's not my business but… Don't sign that
contract."
His brow furrowed. She seemed to sense his confusion.
"Your schematics call for a bigger engine size. But the contract is written for a smaller engine. Let me show you.”
She hurried past him again, and this time her nearness caused her skirt to brush against his leg. She leaned over the desk and pointed down at the top sheet of the contract. “See, right here."
He sighed. There was nothing for it but to tell her the truth. She was waiting for him to cross the room and look down at that paper and see what she saw.
And he couldn’t.
There was nothing for it but to come clean.
“Miss White, my sister and I had the same problems with our education. I spent maybe a month total in a schoolroom during my childhood. I can't read."
She looked flummoxed, as if he’d told her that he was Saint Nick or maybe a leprechaun searching for gold.
"I don't make a secret of it, but I don't go around telling folks either."
"But Ruth knows," she said. He could see in the way her eyes flicked around the room, not settling on any one thing, that her mind was working the problem.
"She knows."
"Is that why—?”
“Why she doesn't want to do her schoolwork?" He shrugged. Maybe it was part of it. He was going to have to talk to Ruth again about the life they’d left behind and the hopes he had for her for the future.
"I appreciate your help with that contract. I won't sign it. I'll have to find someone who will do a new deal with me. And I'll talk to Ruth."
She nodded and started to walk past him. Then stopped at the doorway, turning on her heel almost hesitantly. He’d been staring out the window, feeling exhausted all of a sudden at the prospect of trying to outthink a nine-year-old. A nine-year-old who’d been brought up the same way he had.
“John…”
He faced her. It was the first time she’d used his given name, and he liked the way it sounded on her lips. He waited for her to speak. She seemed to struggle with the words.
"You hired me to teach. Not specifically to teach only the children. If you want to learn to read…"
Winning the Schoolmarm: Wyoming Legacy (Wind River Hearts Book 14) Page 4
