Lacy Williams (10 page)

Her shoulders tightened up and it was a shame, because she’d been so open just a moment ago. She tucked that strand of hair behind her ear again. “Yes, but I have to be careful about becoming too friendly with my students. If they become too familiar, how will I maintain order in the classroom?”

“Susie and Cecilia don’t seem the sort to cause trouble.” Oscar turned the wagon into the schoolyard, where they would unload the props and things and then he would run Sarah home, hopefully before it got dark. He didn’t want old Mr. Allen causing a stink for her.

She didn’t seem to have taken his words too well, not speaking again except for directions on where to put things as they unloaded together. Even when on their way back to the Allens’ place, she remained silent.

He couldn’t leave things between them awkward, not when they’d spent such a pleasant afternoon together. “I’m sorry if my suggestion offended you,” he said as he pulled the wagon into the Allens’ yard.

“You didn’t,” she said, accepting his hand down. “It’s just not easy for me to talk about my past and what happened with my father.”

“You told me.” He was perplexed, because he hadn’t particularly had to press for her to reveal the truth about her parents.

“Yes. Yes, I did.” Her blue eyes were luminous in the darkening twilight as she searched his face for he knew not what. She ducked her head and turned for the house. “Good night, Horseman.”

“Good night, Miss Schoolteacher,” he called out after her. She disappeared into the house.

It would be better for him to forget about the schoolteacher, forget about the three little girls who needed so much. He could return home as soon as he got this colt trained and get on with the life he had planned.

But he couldn’t seem to get his heart to agree.

Chapter Ten

T
he morning of the pageant dawned cold and clear. With only two days until Christmas, the weather had turned colder and even hinted of coming snow.

Still in her nightgown, Sarah huddled in bed beneath the covers, as the light brightened through the window. She fingered the letter that had come for her from Montana. Clara Allen had picked it up for her on a visit to town and delivered it to Sarah last night. The older woman had been curious about the letter, but Sarah hadn’t known what to tell her, so she hadn’t said anything.

She still hadn’t had the courage to read it yet.

What if it was an outright rejection? What if the man who’d posted the mail-order bride ad had found someone else? Or he didn’t like Sarah’s letter?

What if it was an acceptance? What if he wanted to continue the correspondence? Or...offered a proposal?

Thoughts of Oscar White and their afternoon together weeks ago whirled into her mind. She’d seen another side of him when he’d been with the girls and his brothers. Since then, he’d stopped by the schoolhouse often on his way back to the Caldwells’ after working all day at the Allen place. He’d filled the windowpane with a new glass pane. He’d even fixed the rickety front steps and the sticky handle on the potbellied stove, and the droopy shelf.

All that was left was painting the outside of the schoolhouse.

And with every smile, his little stories about Susie, Cecilia and Velma, and their escapades, and even telling her about his success with Paul Allen’s colt, and his teasing about her naming the mare, he’d made himself a place in her heart.

And he was planning to leave after Christmas. His job here would be done. He’d helped Mr. Caldwell get the place in some semblance of shape, helped the girls get winter clothing.

With everything settled, he would leave.

Everything would be settled, except Sarah’s heart.

It was that thought that had her slitting open the envelope and unfolding the letter inside.

* * *

Out in the corral, Oscar slid his foot into the colt’s stirrup and boosted himself into the saddle. He’d waited for the horse to accept him as a rider. They’d been practicing this for a while now, and Oscar knew it was time to take the animal out on the open range.

But first, the warm-up. He put the animal through its paces in the corral, circling both ways and then switching directions. The colt was a dream to work with, following Oscar’s cues with his legs, the reins and verbally. Oscar sincerely hoped Allen wouldn’t ruin the colt with bad habits after he left. The animal was a fine specimen and deserved better.

Oscar dismounted and was moving toward the gate when movement from the house caught his eye. Sarah. Wrapped in a calf-length coat and scarf against the chill in the air. He’d been thinking all morning it smelled like snow.

His heart thumped—the way it did now every time she was near—as she moved toward the corral. Toward him?

She propped her arms on the railing, not flinching when he led the colt by the reins a few feet away and braced his boot on the lower railing.

“Morning,” he greeted her.

“Good morning.”

“You all ready for tonight? Need anything?” Was it his imagination, or were her hands shaking? Was she scared of the horse? She seemed calm, but she might’ve been pretending for the animal’s sake.

“I think the children are as prepared as they are going to be. I’m certain there will be forgotten lines and probably some stumbles, but the parents never really seem to notice.”

She still seemed on edge. Almost like a jumpy filly. What could he say to reassure her? “Well, I’ll be there early to help you move those extra benches in place and in case you need anything.”

She looked down. “Thank you. Were the girls excited about their new dresses? They didn’t refuse them?”

“They didn’t. I told them Saint Nick dropped off their gifts a couple days early.”

She squinted up at him. “And they believed you?”

“Susie did, and Cecilia didn’t have the heart to disagree with her. The three of them sure were cute trying on their matching fancy duds. Even their pa couldn’t help but smile. He promised to have them at the school on time tonight. Everything will be fine.” He closed his fingers over her nearest hand in hopes of comforting her.

Her eyes remained on his, almost as if a question deep within them, for the longest moment. She smiled.

“You’re right. Everything will be fine.”

* * *

That night, the schoolhouse was packed full, parents and families taking up places on the benches that had been squeezed close together to make space for the small raised platform at the front of the room, just in front of the blackboard. Sequestered behind a small curtained area, the children fidgeted and vacillated from shaking with nerves to nervous giggling.

Sarah left one of the older girls in charge and threaded her way to the back of the room, exchanging greetings with parents. There was a knot of fathers in the vestibule and she excused herself, pushing through to stand on the top step.

Where were Cecilia and Susie? Oscar had said their father had promised to deliver them on time. It was now past the hour the pageant was to have started.

She wrung her hands. Cold air bit her cheeks as she scanned the forest and fields around the schoolhouse, straining her eyes in the dusk to spot an approach that she couldn’t see. Where were they?

She’d imagined this night multiple times. Wanted the girls to have a fun time and be able to show off their new dresses, to be a part of the class. Fully. Had even imagined their father watching them say their lines, proud of the girls’ accomplishments.

But they weren’t here.

“What’s the matter?” a familiar voice drawled at her elbow. Warmth enclosed her as Oscar draped her shawl—left behind in the melee inside—over her shoulders. “Saw you come out here.”

Warmth from more than just the shawl overtook her.

“Cecilia and Susie aren’t here.”

Oscar’s brows drew together. But he didn’t question her, didn’t ask if she was sure. Only said, “You want me to go after them?”

“I don’t know if I can stall much longer.”

He swept a hand across her bangs. That corner of his mouth tilted up. “Snow. Tiny little flakes, sticking in your hair.”

He leaned in toward her and for one heart-stopping moment, she thought he would kiss her. But he only swept his thumb across her cheek, beneath her eye. “Get back inside, Miss Schoolteacher. You stall as long as you can, and I’ll see if I can find them.”

He shrugged into his coat that she hadn’t noticed he’d held in his other hand, and stuffed his hat on his head, giving her that irrepressible smile.

Inside, she fought her way back toward the students, determined to keep them calm and ready to go.

She hadn’t made it far before Mr. Allen grasped her arm, tugging her to one side. “Miss Hansen, everyone’s ready to go. What are you waiting for?”

He knew exactly what the delay was. She didn’t know how he knew that Cecilia and Susie weren’t present, but the red in his cheeks and the set of his jaw told her his temper was high.

A glance around revealed several other parents watching their interaction.

She infused as much patience as possible into her voice. “I’m sure you remember from last year, Mr. Allen, that these productions always have little problems.” She exchanged a smile with his wife, sitting slightly behind him. Last year, the problem had been his son Ham’s total disregard of the lines he’d learned as he played up to the crowd, who had roared with laughter.

“Miss Hansen, I demand you get this show on the road—”

“Certainly. As soon as we’re ready,” she interrupted him coolly.

Almost before the words were out of her mouth, the door opened, letting a cold blast of air in that raised the small hairs on the back of Sarah’s neck. Oscar ushered in two girls, one holding the baby, with snow-capped hair. Cecilia clutched Velma to her chest, eyes panicked.

Oscar kept his hands reassuringly on each girl’s shoulder as he guided them through the crush of people to Sarah.

“Didn’t have to go far,” he murmured, leaning close so no one else could hear. “They were all three riding bareback—almost made it the whole way by themselves in the dark.”

“S-sorry, Miss Sarah,” Susie whispered, looking close to tears.

Oscar raised his brows at her above the their heads. Taking in his protective manner and the girls’ serious faces, Sarah dared not express any emotion—she didn’t want to embarrass the girls in front of the parents.

“It’s no matter,” she said clearly, so that anyone who was trying to listen could hear. “I’ve been readjusting the backdrop so it won’t fall over since Miles accidentally tripped on it yesterday at recess.” It was true. She’d adjusted it just before she’d pushed through the crowd looking for the girls.

Those near her chuckled, no doubt familiar with the boy’s dreamy ways and clumsiness.

Cecilia looked at Sarah speculatively as she shepherded the girls through the crowd to the partition where the other children were.

After a short introduction, Sarah directed the younger children on to the makeshift stage and they began to recite their lines. Then she quickly turned to Cecilia and Susie and took the baby and helped the girls brush the snow from their hair, kneeling behind the partition and balancing the baby on her hip. Susie’s hands were like ice, chapped and red, as Sarah took the girl’s shawl. She wrapped it around Velma, who surprisingly felt the warmest of all. No doubt she’d been bundled between her sisters. They always took such good care of her. But all three of them needed a mother’s touch. How well Sarah knew that.

Sarah couldn’t blink away the image of the three girls clinging bareback to a horse’s back. How dangerous! What if they’d fallen off the animal? What if they’d gotten lost? It was getting colder, what if they’d frozen to death?

“Where’s your father?” Sarah mouthed, not wanting the other children or nearby parents to overhear.

Cecilia shook her head, her wide eyes showing her upset.

Sarah brushed a hand against the older girl’s cheek and then must’ve shocked her, because Cecilia froze as Sarah embraced her thin shoulders. When Sarah released her and turned to Susie, the half-frozen girl burrowed into Sarah’s hug.

“I’m glad you both made it,” she whispered.

It was clear by their gawking stares that some of the other children were curious. Or maybe they just noticed Cecilia and Susie’s new dresses. Whatever the cause, when it was their turn up on the improvised stage, the Caldwell girls did remarkably well, with Susie making only one small stumble over her lines.

After the initial delay, the entire event went off remarkably well, and Sarah fielded congratulations and praises from the parents about their children’s success.

From the corner of her eye, she watched as Cecilia and Susie were surrounded by a gaggle of other girls, clearly admiring their new dresses and making rapid-fire conversation.

“Watch them,” she mouthed to Oscar, who stood near the door. She cut her eyes to Cecilia and Susie and Velma so he would know who she was talking about. “They can’t leave by themselves.”

He grinned his understanding.

“Miss Sarah.” One of the mothers, a woman who lived outside of town, pulled her aside. “I just want to say that I’m glad for what you’re trying to do for those little girls.” She was almost whispering the words and Sarah leaned closer to hear. “Our son came home telling us what happened in the classroom a couple of weeks ago. I wish there was something more we could do, but we’re barely eking out a living this winter as it is.”

Sarah was familiar with the family’s circumstances, and couldn’t begrudge the woman for wanting to help but not being able to. If only more of the people in town had the same attitude. She squeezed the woman’s hand and moved away.

The crowd had thinned by the time she was able to approach the Caldwell girls, now standing with the horseman, faces shining as he told about how they’d helped him with a project at their stepfather’s homestead.

“Goodbye,” Sarah called over her shoulder to a student, and when she turned back, the horseman and the Caldwell girls were alone.

“Girls. You did wonderfully tonight. I am so proud of you.”

Her words brought pink to both their cheeks, but their chests seemed to puff even more, if it was possible. Velma reached for her, and Sarah took the tot into her arms, settling her on one hip.

“However, you gave us a fright when you weren’t here on time. What happened to your father?”

Cecilia’s smile faded. She crossed her arms over her stomach. “He couldn’t bring us.”

“Well, what happened? He should have sent word to me this afternoon, and not sent you out all by yourselves. I could’ve made other arrangements...”

“We made it here, didn’t we?” Cecilia’s belligerence stung, especially in the face of Sarah’s worry and the stark fear that had hit her when she’d realized the full danger the girls had been in while out on their own.

Oscar put one hand on Cecilia’s shoulder. “Cecilia, Miss Sarah is just worried about you. And I am, too.”

Grateful for his support, Sarah opened her mouth to continue, but an ominous voice from behind her interrupted.

“Sarah, the room’s about cleared. We’ll wait in the wagon for you to close up. Hurry, though.”

Sarah wheeled to face Mr. Allen, who’d spoken loud enough for the few families lingering and talking to start picking up their coats and wraps. Had he forgotten she’d promised to visit the Caldwells’ home this evening after the pageant? She’d told him about it several days before.

“I’ll see her home, Mr. Allen,” said Oscar, stepping beside Sarah. “I’ve got the sleigh hitched and ready.”

“After we settle the girls at home,” Sarah put in firmly, on hand clasping Susie’s arm so the girl wouldn’t try to go out the door behind her. Susie’s face shone with hope up at Sarah. Velma gurgled from her hip.

“It’s already dark and the snow’s coming down. Best you ride home with us, Sarah.” His words were friendly, but his tone made it a command.

“I’ve promised to see the girls’ Christmas socks,” she argued. Although Cecilia remained distant, Susie had asked her to come and see the Christmas socks that Oscar had helped them hang and she
had
given her word.