“I haven’t been down there for a long time,” he said, much too lackadaisically for my liking.
“This isn’t like contemplating whether or not we should have a picnic by the river. What are we going to do? We need a plan. When I think of those hungry children… We can’t wait. We have to go there and see what they need.”
He crossed around the coffee table to where I sat on the couch. “May I sit?”
I nodded, holding my breath to steady my nerves.
He draped one arm over the back of the couch. “I like the word we, Miss Cooper, but I’ll take care of this. You have enough to do. Jasper and I will drive out in the morning and see what they need. Will that satisfy you?”
“I guess so.”
“You don’t have to be mad at me.” He brushed his finger across my cheek. “We’re on the same side.”
A flash of desire shook me to my very core. I couldn’t look away, captivated by the low timbre of his voice and the way his eyes went all soft when they looked at me.
Finally, I shifted my gaze to my lap. The fire crackled as a log shifted. Several sparks flew against the grate.
He lifted my chin with his finger, forcing me to look into his eyes. “Your wish is my bidding. I’d do anything to win your affection.”
“You’d do this for me, even if you didn’t want to?”
“Let me put it to you this way,” he said. “I’m a man smart enough to know when to listen to a woman wiser than I. So, yes, I’d do it for you, even if I didn’t agree, which I do. My ideals are not simply pulled out when convenient.”
I let out a deep breath. How could I remain angry when he spoke to me this way? “I’m glad we’re in agreement.”
He picked up the plate of cookies and held it out to me. “Now, have a biscuit. The nights are long and cold here. It’s best to have a full stomach before retiring.”
“I’ve been here long enough to know how long and cold the nights are.” I gave him a sideways glance. “Furthermore, in America, we call them cookies.”
A hearty laugh came from deep inside his chest. “Have a cookie, Miss Cooper, and forgive my imperfections.”
“I’ll sleep on the last part,” I said as I snatched the largest cookie. “Don’t hold your breath.”
Chapter 20
Alexander
I rose the next morning filled with dread. I’d slept terribly, plagued by nightmares about Samuel. He’d come to me in a dream, chastising me for my ignorance. You only see what you want, he’d said to me.
The Samuel of my dreams was right, as was Miss Cooper. I hadn’t considered the children in the shadows. White men had forced Native Americans out of the area decades before I came, their fate sealed by the discovery of gold, then silver in these mountains. I liked to pretend none of the atrocities had happened and that God had made this land just for white settlers, but it was simply untrue. Long after the gold rush was over, many immigrants from China had come to seek their fortune and found nothing but sand. Too poor to go home, they’d ended up trapped in a country that didn’t want them. Over the years, I’d convinced myself that the tragedies of the Native American and Chinese people were before my time and had nothing to do with me. Although that might have been true, I couldn’t hide behind that excuse when faced with the current reality. A Chinese family had been forced out of our society because of their ethnicity. Rachel Cole’s children were not safe in town. This was not the community I’d dreamed of.
Miss Cooper was right. How could those forced into the shadows survive, let alone thrive? What were they supposed to do if they weren’t welcome?
I was a young man when I first came to America. So young, in fact, that I hadn’t yet considered the consequences of my choices. I wanted only to have adventures. The idea of doing what was expected of me seemed like a death sentence. I’d read of the western frontier and the men and women who had braved rough terrain and wild animals to better their circumstances. This idea was so very American to me and stirred my blood. I gave up the inheritance and the title, leaving it all to my younger brother who was so much better suited for it all. I was free and that’s all I wanted. Now, all these years later, I understood what a romantic fantasy the wild west had been. In those tales of conquering heroes, there was no mention of the American government’s manipulation of white settlers or the atrocities done to tribal nations. The government had promised rich, fertile soil in Indian Territory to anyone willing to bet on a homestead. They’d lured them out west with outright lies for the sole purpose of expansion and destroyed Native American life.
All this said, I had no regrets. I’d made the life for myself that I’d dream of as a boy. All on my own terms and in my own ways.
Jasper and I set out after breakfast with a basket of food put together by Lizzie. Visibility was good, and temperatures had risen into the twenties. When we were out of town proper, I let Oliver and Twist run. Their muscles rippled as they galloped through freshly fallen snow. The fierce wind chilled my cheeks.
Emerson Pass was built in the valley between the sister mountains. A river ran along the base of the southern mountain. During the late sixties, gold had been found in its banks. Word spread, as it does, and hordes of men flocked to the area. At one time there had been five hundred residents. After it became clear in the late eighties that whatever gold or silver was here had already been mined, the town’s population shrank to less than fifty. Then a fire burned every structure to the ground. When I got here, there were only a handful of people left, one of whom was Samuel. He’d been friendly but made it clear he wanted nothing to do with my plans. “Build your town,” he’d said. “And leave me be.”
What he’d been doing for the shadow people was not in the narrative of the story I’d believed about Samuel. I’d seen him as an isolationist. He meant no harm, expecting nothing from others, and expected the same in return. The only exception had been his plea to me.
We came upon the old building where business was conducted back in the mining days. Clearly, it hadn’t been built with much thought to the future, as it was nothing more than a shanty with one sloped roof. Twenty yards from the structure, swift river water tumbled over rocks.
The hint of human inhabitants was limited to a trail of smoke out of the tin stovepipe that stuck out of the roof like a groundhog popping up from its hole.
We tied the horses to a tree and ambled up to the shack. I rapped my knuckles on the door. There were no windows, but I detected the murmurings of people inside. Finally, the door opened a crack. A boy with black eyes peered at me.
“Hello.” He was around the twins’ age, wearing a tattered plaid shirt that seemed sized for an adult, as it came to his knees. His shoes were made of faded black cloth.
“Is your mother here?” I asked.
He shook his head, watching me as a wary animal would a predator. “No, my grandmother. She doesn’t speak English.”
“I’m Alexander Barnes,” I said. “And this is Jasper.”
The boy nodded and opened the door a few more inches to get a look at Jasper.
“What’s your name?” I asked.
“I am Li Wu.”
“If I talked to your grandmother, would you translate for me?” I asked.
Li’s gaze darted from me to Jasper and back again. I imagined a thousand questions ran through his mind. Who were we? What did we want?
“We mean no harm,” I said. “I just want to talk to her and tell her about the new school that opened in town.”
“School?”
“Yes. Would you like to go to school?”
Li shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“Will you ask your grandmother to come to the door?” I asked.
After another moment of indecision, he nodded his head in agreement. “Wait here.” He closed the door. A few minutes later, he returned with an elderly woman. She was not much bigger than her grandson. Wrinkles lined her hazel skin.
“I’ve come from town. My name is Alexander Barnes, and th
is is Jasper.”
“She is called Jun,” Li said.
“Jun, we’re friends of Samuel Cole’s.” I waited for Li to translate.
She listened to Li, then said something in Chinese to him.
“She says Samuel is our friend,” Li said.
“I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but he was killed,” I said.
Again, Li translated. The old woman flinched and put her hand on her chest.
“She wants to know what happened to him,” Li said.
“He was shot. Murdered.”
She clutched the collar of her threadbare dress and asked Li another question.
“Was it because of his wife?” Li asked.
“We don’t know,” I said. “I learned he looked after you and wanted to see if you were doing all right out here.”
“He brought us food,” Li said, translating for his grandmother. “And now we have none.”
“We understand,” I said. “We’re here to offer our help.”
From behind me, Jasper presented the basket of food. “We brought this,” he said.
A flicker of a smile crossed Jun’s face.
“She says thank you,” Li said.
“May we come inside?” I asked.
Jun nodded and motioned for us to enter.
The interior was clean but bare, consisting of a woodstove, two rickety chairs, a crude table made from faded boards, and a stool that looked left over from an early saloon. Bedding consisted of blankets on a mat near the stove. Several pots were stored on a shelf, as well as a tin bowl and a few plates. A broom was propped up by the doorway.
A little girl of about three sat in the middle of the bedding. She watched us with a mixture of curiosity and fear. She called out to her brother, who went to sit next to her.
Jun fluttered her hands toward the chairs and spoke to us in Chinese.
“She wants you to sit,” Li said.
I caught Jasper’s eye. He clearly felt as awkward as I.
“Can you ask her to sit instead?” I asked.
“She won’t,” Li said.
So we took the chairs and Jun sat on the lone stool.
Li told us their story. His grandparents had come for the gold but like so many were too late. They’d stayed anyway, living in a shanty not far from the mining site and surviving by fishing from the river and collecting nuts and berries, as well as growing a vegetable garden.
“No one bothered us in those days,” Li translated. “All the white people had gone away.”
Jun’s husband had died just before the fire burned the town, leaving her alone with her teenage son, Quon. She and Quon moved to Denver, hoping to find work. After a few years, Quon met Ting, and they were married. As a family they decided to return to this place by the river where they had been happy.
“We met Samuel then,” Li said, continuing to translate his grandmother’s story. “He taught Quon to hunt and fish. His wife gave us seeds for our garden. Samuel brought us supplies from town.”
First, Li had been born, then five years later, baby Fai.
“We were happy. But then the sickness came, and both Quon and Ting died,” Li said. “And we had no one to hunt for us.”
Jun cried as she told us this last part of their sad tale.
“Samuel came and told us not to worry. He would look after us.”
For several years now, they’d relied on Samuel for fresh meat and supplies from town. He chopped wood for their stove so they would not freeze. Rachel had sewn clothes or sent ones her children had outgrown. “We would have died without him. Then he stopped coming. For days and days, we waited but he didn’t come. We’ve eaten the last of the beans. The baby cries and cries from hunger.”
Jasper, clearly beside himself, stood and began unpacking the basket. A hunk of Lizzie’s homemade cheese, a bottle of creamy milk, a loaf of fresh sourdough bread, several apples, and slices of ham were soon spread out on the table.
“Come eat,” Jasper said to the children.
They jumped from the floor and ran to the table. The little one squealed as her brother lifted her onto the chair Jasper had occupied. I rose from mine and told Li to sit.
Jasper sliced bread and made sandwiches from the cheese and ham for all three of them. He found two tin cups on the shelves and poured them each a glass of milk. We gave them time to eat before asking further questions. I paced by the door, wondering what in the bloody hell I was to do now.
When they’d had their fill, Fai jumped from the chair and twirled in a circle. With her shiny black hair and round face, she was absolutely precious.
And Jun, raising them all alone without money. Relying on the kindness of a man who could provide food but no real life outside of this shack.
I knew this was arrogant of me, but I wanted to save them. I had no right to project my English ways onto them, but they could not live this way. It wasn’t right.
“Mrs. Wu, I have a position in my kitchen. My cook needs someone to help her. We have a large garden in the summer that also needs attending. Would you be willing to work for me?”
Li told her what I’d said.
Jun shook her head.
“I don’t know English cooking,” Li translated. “And how would I get to your house?”
“You and the children would live in the staff quarters downstairs,” I said. “I’ll pay you a salary, plus offer room and board. Li could go to school with my children. Fai can stay with you. I have a three-year-old daughter, too. They can play together.”
The stunned expression on Jasper’s face was almost laughable. I was sure to catch hell on the way home. Lizzie wouldn’t be able to resist offering help to the Wus. I could count on her to find lighter-weight tasks for the old woman. We had one spare room downstairs. It was small but certainly better than this.
“I am old and not much use,” Li translated. “And the other children are all white. How could Li go with them?”
“All children are welcome at our school,” I said.
“I’m afraid to leave,” Li translated. “What if we need to come back and someone else is living here?”
“You won’t need to come back,” I said. “We’ll make sure of it.”
If only I were as certain as I sounded.
“We will come,” Li translated.
Chapter 21
Quinn
The morning of the Coles’ first day of school, they had not shown when I rang the school bell. Most of my students were already inside, huddled around the stove, other than Flynn and Cymbeline, who were in a heated snowball fight. As they set down their weapons and bounded toward the steps, a sleigh pulled up outside the schoolhouse. Three children bundled in green coats and hats jumped out and shuffled toward me. I gestured for them to come inside, then waved to their uncle. Wilber tipped his hat.
I showed the Cole children where to leave their coats, hats, and lunch pails as the others took their seats.
I knelt to their level and looked them each in the eyes. “I’m Miss Cooper. Can you tell me your names and ages?”
They answered, one after the other, never taking their gaze from me, as if they were afraid to look anywhere else. Noah was eight. Roman was seven, and their little sister, Willa, was six. They were lighter-skinned than their mother but had inherited her high cheekbones and large brown eyes. “I’m going to introduce you to the others.”
A fat tear caught in Willa’s bottom lashes, and her lips quivered.
“There’s nothing to be afraid of,” I said. “You’re going to make friends and learn so much.”
Willa nodded and sucked in her bottom lip.
“Did you know we have two recesses?” I asked.
“Is that where we get to play with the others?” Noah asked.
“And get fresh air and exercise. In between that time, we have lessons. Now come with me.” I straightened and offered my hand to Willa. “We’re going to tell everyone your names.” Together, we walked to the front of the classroom.
&n
bsp; “Children, we have three new students joining us today.” I looked around at the faces of these young people I’d grown so fond of. Please, God, don’t let them disappoint me today. If I caught a hint of cruelty, I would put a stop to it immediately. However, as my gaze flickered about the room, the children seemed oblivious. No one flinched or gave me any indication that they saw anything but another child.
I introduced them by name. “Who can tell them what our class rules are?
Josephine raised her hand. “Be curious. Be kind. Protect one another,” she said.
“Excellent. Thank you, Josephine. Also, when you wish to ask a question or speak, you must raise your hand. Understood?”
The Cole siblings nodded. I pointed to two empty desks next to the twins. “Those are for you, Noah and Roman.” I escorted Willa to a desk between Cymbeline and Nora Cassidy. “Cymbeline, I’d like you to be Willa’s buddy for the day. If she has any questions, you will answer them, all right?”
Cymbeline gave me a radiant smile, all sunshine and innocence. At the moment, anyway.
Next I asked if anyone had any questions for our new students.
Flynn raised his hand. “Do you like games? Or snowball fights or racing?”
Noah and Roman nodded.
“That’s great, because I do too,” Flynn said.
Willa raised her hand and waited until I called on her. “I don’t like snowball fights.”
“Did you all hear that? At recess, Willa would like to exercise her right to abstain from snowball fights.”
Shannon raised her hand. “What does abstain mean?”
“Who would like to look it up?” I asked.
Elsa’s hand shot up. She always volunteered to find the word in the dictionary when we had a new one to learn. She’d told me that just looking at all those words on the page made her happy. “Yes, Elsa, you may look it up.”
Elsa bounded from her desk to open the dictionary I kept on my desk. We waited as she flipped pages.
“Here it is. Abstain is a verb,” Elsa said. “To hold oneself back voluntarily, especially from something regarded as improper or unhealthy.”
The School Mistress (Emerson Pass Book 1) Page 18
