“It’s a remarkable blue,” I said.
A second later, I spotted the smoke from several chimneys before I saw town. “Oh, it’s lovely,” I said, surprised by the quaint brick buildings that lined both sides of a street. Granted, there weren’t many, but enough to make up a town.
“What did you expect?” he asked.
“I don’t know.” This wasn’t exactly true. I didn’t want to insult him by explaining my perceptions. The town was personal to him. He was invested in Emerson Pass in a way one is when they’ve helped to make something out of nothing. What I’d imagined was a dirty street and a collection of haphazardly constructed buildings, everything centered around the mining operation.
Beside me, Lord Barnes sighed. “I’ll have to see the pastor before service and tell him what’s happened to Samuel.” The muscles in his face contorted before he hung his head. “I can’t believe Samuel’s gone.”
Tears came to my eyes at the mournful tone of his voice, the heartache of loss in every word. “Oh, Lord Barnes, I’m sorry.”
Grief was like this. Out of nowhere, the reality of one’s loss crushed and shoved aside all other thoughts. Seeing a grown man, especially one as dignified yet playful as Lord Barnes, crushed by his grief tore at my heart. I wished there were something I could do. Having lost my father, whom I loved so dearly, I knew there was nothing, short of bringing the person back to life. Still, I asked the question. “Is there anything I can do?”
His eyes softened. “You have a kind heart, Miss Cooper—crying for a man you never knew.”
“I know you,” I said. “And it’s obvious what a terrible blow this is. That’s enough to make me cry.”
He looked away. “I have to find out who did this to him.”
“Is there a sheriff?” I asked.
“Yes. Joseph Lancaster. He’s new. Our governor sent him out here.”
“Why is that?” I asked.
“We’ve had our share of trouble.”
I had the distinct feeling there was something Lord Barnes wasn’t saying. As much as I wanted to ask, I stayed quiet. If he needed me to know, he would tell me. Otherwise, I would keep my curious nose to myself.
The horses went from a gallop to a walk as we entered town. Emerson Pass was nestled between two mountains that rose majestically toward the cerulean sky. I did a quick assessment and discovered a drugstore, dry goods store, post office, and butcher shop on one side of the street. The other had a saloon, the boardinghouse, and restaurant. They were all built of brick and in the same height and style. Attractive streetlamps were placed in front of each building, making a line of soldiers on each side.
We turned down a side street and there, positioned at a slightly higher elevation than the businesses on the main street, stood a brick schoolhouse. There was a skinny front porch with a bell that hung from the rafters. My chest swelled with pride at the sight of the double doors. “Lord Barnes, it’s perfect.”
“I think so too.”
“Will I get to ring the bell?”
His eyes twinkled at me. “Every morning at nine. After church, we’ll stop by and take a look inside. You can see if there’s anything I’ve forgotten.”
We continued past the school and stopped in front of a white church with a tall steeple. The walkway had been shoveled, and people were headed inside the red doors. “Did you build this, too?”
“The men who worked for me did, yes. Do you like it?”
“I can’t think of a prettier church.”
“Thank you. We’re proud of it.” He lifted the blankets from our laps and offered his hand to help me down from the sleigh. “Would you mind getting the children settled inside while I talk to Pastor Lind?”
“With pleasure.”
He tipped his hat. “Thank you, Miss Cooper. You’ve come just when I needed you.”
The children had all jumped down by then. Poppy and Josephine waited by the front steps with Fiona between them. Flynn and Cymbeline were over by a tall snowdrift with their heads together, as if discussing their plan for escape. Only Theo remained near. He offered his arm to me. “I’ll walk with you. It’s slippery.”
I smiled down at him. “Thank you, kind gentleman.”
He beamed up at me. “You’re welcome, Miss Cooper.”
Chapter 8
Alexander
I knocked on the door to Pastor Lind’s office. “It’s Barnes, Pastor Lind. May I have a moment?”
“Come in, come in.”
Taking a deep breath, I entered, then closed the door behind me. Lind sat behind his desk. He was a small, round man with thick white hair that sprouted from his head in unruly clumps. He had a handlebar mustache and thick eyebrows and wore a pair of round wire-framed glasses that perched on the end of his nose. The office smelled of coffee from the cup next to a notebook containing his handwritten sermon. He claimed it made him a better orator if he consumed a cup right before services began.
“Lord Barnes, to what do I owe this pleasure?” His hazel eyes gazed at me from over his glasses. I always had the urge to push those flimsy glasses up to where they belonged. They agitated me, perched like that on the bulbous part of his nose.
“I’m afraid I have bad news,” I said.
He tutted as he leaned forward over the desk. His thick brows came together to form a long white caterpillar. “What’s happened?”
Simon Lind and his wife, Pamela, were in their fifties and had spent most of their lives building churches in small towns like Emerson Pass. Lind had wanderlust. Pamela had told me he could never be happy in one place. Once the church was built and the flock firmly settled in the pews every Sunday, he grew restless. When they’d come through here to visit, looking for a new place to build a church, I’d made him a deal. I’d help them build a church and rectory and pay him a decent salary even during years when donations were scarce, but he needed to commit to staying. His wife, worn out from the years of moving, had convinced him to take my offer. Five years later, it was as if they’d always been here. She’d made the rectory across from the church into a pretty home, with flowers and a vegetable garden during warm months. Pam Lind had such a green thumb she kept half the town in tomatoes and beans during July and August. She’d told me once that her inability to have a child had fueled her need to grow living things. “Cucumbers and tomatoes are no substitute for a child, but they can at least feed other women’s sons and daughters,” she’d said to me once.
Now I turned my hat around and around in my hands. To say the words would make them real, and I suddenly wanted to put that off for as long as possible. “Samuel Cole is dead. Someone shot him last night.”
Lind snatched his glasses from his face and rose to his feet. “Do we know who?”
“No idea. I can’t help but think it has something to do with Rachel.”
Lind walked behind his chair and wrapped his hands around the back as if he might fall. “Has there been recent trouble?”
“Not that I know of.” I told him about my conversation with Samuel regarding his will. “Maybe he was worried about someone trying to harm him. Why else would he have come to me now? He wasn’t a man who thought about his mortality.”
Lind chuckled. “No, he was more concerned with living than what came in the hereafter.” He quickly sobered. “Poor Rachel. How is she?”
“Bloody devastated and terrified.” I apologized for my rough language, but Lind brushed it aside. A preacher on the frontier couldn’t be too particular about his flock’s crusty ways.
“I can imagine she would be,” Lind said. “If this is about race, then we’re going to have to do what we can to protect them.”
I leaned against the wall and rubbed my tired eyes. “She and Susan are all alone out there.” Other than Susan, Samuel had never trusted anyone enough to hire help. “Rachel will have to pay three men to do the work Samuel did alone.” I thumped the back of my head against the wall. “He kept them isolated out there. Samuel didn’t want her or the kids to le
ave their property and go into town. He’d never admit it to me, but he was afraid for them.” I looked back at Lind, who watched me with sympathetic eyes. “He should’ve been more careful. He should have come to me for help.”
“A man like Samuel doesn’t want his friend harmed because of his own trouble. He most likely was trying to protect you.”
I took my handkerchief and pressed it against my stinging eyes. “It’s hard to imagine him anywhere but traipsing about the woods.”
“I’m sorry,” Lind said. “For you and for Rachel and those kids.”
“I have to figure a way to protect them.”
“Tell me what you need. Pamela and I are here.”
I thanked him, even though I knew deep in my bones that trouble waited around every corner for Rachel now. All she had was me to protect her, and I wasn’t sure how to do that. No amount of money can fix hatred.
Chapter 9
Quinn
The simple church pews and pulpit that hung over it were made of pale fine-grained wood. Whitewashed walls with tall paned windows framed the winter scene outside. The floor was made of wide planks of oak. A spectacular cross made of a dark wood hung over the front. A faint scent of wood shavings hung in the air.
“Is the church newly built?” I asked Josephine as we walked down the aisle toward the front.
“No, Papa had it built for Pastor Lind five years ago,” she said. “But the cross is new. Harley made it from a fallen tree he found last summer.”
The Barnes children and I took over the entire front row of the left side with a space left for Lord Barnes. I had the two little girls next to me. Josephine and Poppy were on the other end with the twins between us. As we waited for service to begin, Fiona and Cymbeline started poking each other.
“Stop it,” Fiona said.
“You stop it,” Cymbeline said as she poked her sister on the shoulder for the third time.
Fiona began to cry. “That hurt.”
I lifted Fiona onto my lap. “You’ll both keep your hands to yourself from now on or you’ll be punished.”
Cymbeline crossed her arms over her chest and glowered. Her legs, too short to reach the ground, swung back and forth. A small act of rebellion, I thought. This child was strong-willed and stubborn. I hoped to someday see how she changed the world. Whether for good or evil was still undecided, I thought, smiling to myself.
Fiona was warm and soft and smelled like a sugar cookie. She snuggled against me with her cheek on my shoulder. “Miss Cooper, is this what mamas do?”
“What do you mean?”
“Have laps to sit on.”
My eyes stung. I tightened my hold on her. “Yes, this is what mamas do.”
“It’s nice.”
“I agree.”
Cymbeline unfolded her arms and jutted out her chin. “I’m not a baby like Fiona. I don’t need a lap.”
I smiled down at her. “If you ever do, mine is available.”
She narrowed her eyes, inspecting me as if I were a liar.
Lord Barnes joined us then, taking the place next to me. “Everything shipshape?” he asked with a pointed glance at Fiona.
“Yes indeed,” I said. “Fiona just needed a snuggle.”
“Hi, Papa,” Fiona said.
“Hello there.” He kissed the top of her head, coming so near I breathed in the scent of him, shaving soap and the outdoors. When he drew back, our eyes caught and held for a moment longer than they should. We were in church. I’d known him for less than twenty-four hours. His friend had been murdered. Yet all I could think of was naming the exact color of his green eyes. Emerson Pass and Lord Barnes were going to lead me straight to hell.
Pastor Lind’s sermon was blessedly short. Not that I heard most of it, what with the warm child on my lap and her father inches from me smelling delicious and having to give Flynn a stern stare for all his fidgeting. Afterward, we went out to the fresh air, and Lord Barnes introduced me to the Johnsons, who owned the dry goods store. Anna and Sven Johnson had two daughters who would be my students, named Martha and Elsa. Anna Johnson was tall with golden hair and a wide smile. She shook my hand with a firm grip. “We’re grateful you’ve come to the wilderness. You let me know if you need anything at all. I’ve been here amongst all these men for too long.” I suspected she could do a man’s work on the farm or field and not break a sweat.
“How long have you been here?” I asked.
“Five years or so,” she said. “We came from Minnesota. My girls went to school there. Since then, I’ve done my best to teach them myself. They’re both keen to learn, and Martha would like to be a teacher someday.”
Sven had jet-black hair and broad shoulders. He spoke with a Swedish accent and was too shy to meet my eyes.
I was introduced to Pastor Lind and his wife, Pamela, next. Slightly plump and pink-cheeked, Pamela glowed from within.
“Oh, dear me, you’re a pretty one,” Pamela said. “No wonder Lord Barnes has you staying at the house.”
“Thank you,” I said, with a self-conscious giggle.
“Come inside for a moment so we can talk.” Pamela took my arm and we strolled back into the church. “Simon told me about poor Mr. Cole. I hope you won’t be too concerned. This isn’t typical.”
“It’s a terrible thing,” I said. “Did he tell you about the gunshots that spooked the horses?”
“He did. How’s your head?”
“Much better,” I said. “Other than my embarrassment at causing so much trouble, I’m fully recovered.”
Pamela led me over to a pew, where we sat. “I can’t believe this has happened. We have fights in town from the men who drink too much, but nothing like this.”
“Was he a very good friend to Lord Barnes?”
“Samuel was the type who kept to himself, but if he had a friend, it was Alexander.” She fiddled with the brooch at her neck. “He was very loyal to Samuel, even when things were heated here in town over Rachel.”
“What about Rachel?”
“Oh, you haven’t met her?”
I shook my head.
“She’s brown-skinned,” Pamela said. “And you know how people can make such a fuss.”
This truth smacked into me hard. Samuel had been married to a black woman. Making a fuss was certainly one way to put it. Mixed marriages were illegal back east. I’d assumed they were here as well. “Were they married?”
“Not legally,” she said. “But they lived as if they were.”
“Do you think someone would kill him because of that?”
“I hate to think so, but maybe. The situation was tolerated because folks were afraid of Samuel. He was a bit of a legend around here.”
My thoughts tripped over themselves as I processed this information. Had Samuel been killed because of his wife? If so, what about her and the children? This town was full of white men. Lord Barnes had indicated many were rough and uncouth. Back home, there were so many prejudices against Jews, Catholics, and anyone with dark skin, even though the North had fought for slaves to be free.
“I’m sorry this happened just as you’ve come,” Pamela said, interrupting my contemplations. “Lord Barnes has been talking about your arrival for weeks now. Our expectations are quite high that you’ll elevate our community. However, you’re not what we expected. We had you pictured as a little old lady like me.”
I flushed, guilty. “That’s my fault. I didn’t mention my age because I was afraid he would think me too young for such a big responsibility.”
She patted my hand. “You’ll be fine.”
Somehow her words didn’t match the worry in her eyes. Was there something more?
“Did Lord Barnes tell you about night school?” I asked.
“He did.”
Again I couldn’t decipher from her tone if this was a worry to her. “Do you think anyone will come?”
“I’m not certain.” Her gaze darted to the cross. “Please, Quinn, be careful. There’s darkness in our pretty town.
Be diligent.”
My stomach fluttered with nerves. “I’ll do my best.”
“And you come by and see me any time, all right? I always have the kettle on and a jar of cookies.”
“Two of my favorite things,” I said.
A few minutes later, Lord Barnes and I walked from the church lot over to the schoolhouse. Someone had shoveled a walkway between the two, as well as the school’s porch. Lord Barnes fetched a ring of keys from his pocket and unlocked the doors, then stood aside for me to enter before him. My breath caught at the sight of the twenty wooden desks arranged in four rows. A shiny blackboard covered most of the front wall. The teacher’s desk was plain but sturdy with a hardbacked chair. In one corner, a potbellied stove would warm the room.
I wandered around the room, practically dancing with excitement. “Lord Barnes, it’s a dream come true. My very own classroom.”
“I’m pleased you’re pleased.” He smiled as he looked around the room. “Harley will come early in the morning and get the fire going so it’ll be warm by the time you arrive.”
“I’m grateful.” I knew most rural teachers had to do that themselves. I’d assumed it would be my duty.
I took a quick assessment of supplies. A stack of slates and textbooks were stored on a shelf next to the desk.
“The children will have to share books,” Lord Barnes said from behind me.
I turned to him. “I’ll make do.”
Lord Barnes pointed toward a coatrack. “For tomorrow, the students can hang their coats and scarves there when they come in unless it’s too cold for the stove to keep up. If the temperatures drop, I’d ask you to grant permission for them to wear their outer layers.”
I nodded. This seemed reasonable. “Do I have a roster of children?” I asked as I walked over to the desk.
“No, you’ll have to collect their names and ages as they arrive.”
The School Mistress (Emerson Pass Book 1) Page 8
