Montana Rose (9 page)

Chapter 17

A loud knock on the vestibule door jarred Rose out of her musings. Thinking Tory had returned, she hurried through the classroom and with a smile on her face she opened the door.

Seeing that instead of Tory, it was Mr. Whimpstutter, she felt her smile vanish like a thief in the night.

“Miss Bush.” He gave a short nod and brushed past her.

“Uh.” Rose swallowed the lump that magically appeared in her throat. “Mr. Whimpstutter. Do come in.”

“What? Of course I’m in.” He peered closely at her. “Are you all right, Miss Bush?”

“Yes, of course. I’m fine.” She motioned toward her living quarters. “I was just having a cup of tea. Would you join me?”

“This is not a social call, Miss Bush. I am here as a representative of the school board. Regretfully, I am here to remind you that one of the rules governing teachers pertains to the, uh, entertaining a male in your private dwellings.” He had the good grace to blush, but his pointed nose quivered like a skinny rat’s, confronting a chunk of cheese.

“Entertaining?”

“Please do not interrupt, Miss Bush. We are quite aware that you have nightly assignations with a male student.”

“A male student?” Parrot like, she repeated his words.

“Quite.” He stretched his scarecrow frame. “Consistently you have dismissed your class except,” and he paused squinting at her, “for one male student. You have been witnessed taking him into your kitchen and plying him with cookies.”

“How?” What a stupid question. She knew how, but her mind wasn’t connecting with her tongue.

“One of the students accidentally glanced in your kitchen window and was quite traumatized by what he saw.”

“Accidentally?” Was she reduced to one-word questions?

“You are repeating my words, Miss Bush. This visit is difficult enough without your interruptions. Mrs. Chinney and Mrs. Backley were so shocked by such immoral actions, they begged off from confronting you. And while this is distasteful to me also, I must shield those two ladies and take on this onerous task myself.”

Rose started to protest, to explain, only to be stopped by Mr. Whimpstutter’s hand, palm out, in front of her face.

“As I was saying, this must not continue. Tonight concludes your meetings with this male student. Under no circumstances will you proceed with this
. . .
this distasteful and immoral conduct or your position as teacher in Wise River will be immediately terminated. Miss Bush, we have been very tolerant of your unorthodox methods of teaching. Even allowing pagan items to be hung in your classroom. And your refusal to use the rod is another issue. One that we will discuss at a later date when the ladies are present. To protect his own home-taught morals and Godly principles, a student has been forced to not participate in many of your lessons. This child thirsts for knowledge and is languishing.”

“Willy.” She loosened her tongue enough to spit out the name.

“I see you are aware of this.”

“Mr. Whimpstutter. No, please allow me to explain.” Rose ignored the hand again placed in front of her face. “The male is but a twelve-year-old boy that I am tutoring in reading.”

“A dunce. A bully,” Mr. Whimpstutter declared.

“A student. A student that is now able to read because of my tutoring.”

“Oh, and I suppose the cookies played a part in this newfound ability?” he said snidely.

“No, but they put him at ease enough so he could relax and assimilate knowledge. I would do the same for any of my students. Tory Rivers was labeled and neglected by the former teacher. He is bright and anxious to learn.”

“He is a male and you are violating the rules of conduct you agreed to,” he thundered.

Rose shook her head in disgust and taking a deep breath tamped down the red mist of anger threatening to explode into the room.

“He is a child in need of special instruction. And I will continue to provide that instruction regardless of the small minds that construe this into something tawdry.” She pursed her lips. “And regardless of a sneaky little boy that delights in causing trouble and peeking into my window.
For shame
.”

Mr. Whimpstutter was shaking. His eyes bulged as he turned on his heel, and giving her one last glaring look, lost no time in exiting the room.

“You have been warned,” he said ominously, and with head held high, he left, the door swinging in his wake.

Rose staggered from the room to her kitchen, grasping each passing desk to steady herself. Plopping down at the table, she realized the cozy room of a few short minutes ago had turned into a chilly emptiness. She wasn’t wanted here. She didn’t belong. This was not, and never could be, her home.

“What am I to do?” The sound of her voice hollow. “Teaching isn’t my heart’s desire, but I need this job.” And feeling a magnitude of despair and helplessness, she took a sip of the cold tea and gazed at the nothingness.

“You’re late,” Jesse said to the boy blowing into the kitchen like a force of wind. “I almost ate this hunk of steak myself,” Jesse teased, delighted that his and Tory’s relationship had moved to where this was possible. Not only possible, but pleasurable. Jesse found himself thinking about and missing his brother during the day while he was at school. And oddly enough, as much as he resented it, he found himself envying Tory’s time with the arrogant Teacher Bush.

“Teacher Bush kept you after school again, huh? Guess I’ll go have a talk with her. You can’t be that disruptive.” Jesse wished he didn’t have to play ignorant of the real reason Tory spent the extra time.”

“Jesse,” Tory said breathlessly, “I can read.”

“What?” Jesse turned from the sink where he’d been scouring a skillet.

“I can read, Jesse. Here, let me show you.” He dug around in the canvas bag and pulled out a small brown book.

Jesse fell into a chair opposite the young boy standing proudly at the head of the table.

“McGuffey’s First Eclectic Reader. Revised Edition.”

He raised his eyes, meeting Jesse’s moist ones.

Puffing out his chest, Tory paged through to the back of the book. “These are the harder stories,” he said proudly.

Jesse could only nod.

Tory held the book in front of his face, his brow wrinkled in concentration. “
We have come to the end of this book,”
he read
. “You can now read all the stories. You now need the second reader
.
Congrat
—
u
—
congratulations,”
he said loudly, looking expectantly at the man whose opinion mattered most.

Jesse moistened his lips and cleared his throat. Slowly, he shook his head.

“Darned if that isn’t the best reading I’ve ever heard,” he said in a choked voice. “It’s like getting an early Christmas present hearing you spit out those hard words.”

“Aww, it wasn’t nothing,” Tory fumbled.

“Nothing? I call it something. You are going to be a scholar, Tory. Maybe Teacher Bush does know her stuff.”

“She does, Jesse, she does.” Tory fell into a chair, waves of excitement shimmered from him. “I got to read out of the botany book. A real botany book. One with drawings and everything. Did you know red maple seed are ripe and”—he paused, his brow wrinkled as he searched his memory—“germinate, yeah they germinate in the spring?”

“No, I didn’t know that. Red maple you say?” Jesse bit the inside of his cheeks to keep back his smile. This was serious business.

“Yep. ‘Course we don’t have red maple’s here but Miss Bush says a botanist has to know about all plants and trees. Want to know something else?” he asked, suddenly acting shy.

“I sure do. This is terribly interesting. I’m hoping you’ll share all your botany lessons with me. That way you could teach me as you learn.”

“Huh?”

“Well, you’re going to be a botanist so why not start with me?”

“You mean it?”

“I don’t say things I don’t mean, Tory.”

“Okay. Here’s something else I learned. I tried to sound out this word, but Miss Bush had to help me. I’m not dumb though,” he said defensively, “just because I couldn’t sound the word. See the book says those technical words are hard but that’s what studying botany will teach me. The book”—he said the word like it was the Holy Bible, which to Tory it was— “The book knows the words are hard.” He raised his chin, the words coming out mechanically, “Morphology is the shape of plants. Do you understand that, Jesse?”

“Well, I’m not sure I do. Could you explain?” It was all Jesse could do not to reach out and hug the budding botanist.

“Sure. It’s the form a plant takes. How it looks. I have to know that so I can identify plants. I can draw them, but I have to recognize the form so I can put a name to them.”

“Makes sense. You’ve picked something hard to learn, Tory. Lots harder than ranching.”

“Naw.”

But Jesse could see Tory was only trying to make him feel better. And he loved him for it.

Chapter 18

The weeks rolled by. Rose felt like she was sleepwalking through the days, waiting for the next perceived infraction that would bring about the school board’s wrath. It was only a matter of time.

Recalling an incident that had happened last Friday, she her lips twitch in a very un-teacher like smile. And if there was a teensy bit of delight in her student’s ingenuity, that wasn’t wrong, was it?

Art and his group of cohorts, Timmy included, had locked Willy in the outhouse. The hot, smelly outhouse. They denied any knowledge of the deed, and by the time Rose had realized Willy hadn’t returned from lunch recess, he’d been a guest of the wooden structure, with the tin roof that captured the sun’s rays, for over an hour.

Rose questioned the class, asking if anyone knew Willy’s whereabouts, but not one eye met hers. It was amazing how engrossed in slates and books they had all become. Willy was no one’s favorite.

Rushing out the schoolhouse door, frantic in imagining all sorts of perils, she scanned the playgrounds. Alerted by knocks and a feeble voice coming from behind the wedged door, Rose rushed to his rescue. The red-faced boy that toppled out smelled to high-heavens. Not waiting for permission, he bolted for home. And every minute since then she’d felt like a convicted person must feel looking out the jailhouse window and seeing the gallows being built.

But today, she was looking forward to a visit from Wisteria and Robin. She would put her fears aside. It was Saturday and they had decided to spend the day crocheting a rag rug. Wisteria had scoured the church’s missionary barrel and had found several torn and unwearable dresses as well as some tattered men’s shirts. They were unsuitable to send to missionaries, but perfect for what she and Rose had in mind.

“Come in,” Rose called out to the knock on the kitchen door. “You don’t need to knock, Wisteria.”

The door opened, but it wasn’t Wisteria that entered.

“Mr. Rivers.” Rose hoped he didn’t hear the breathless quality of her voice.

“Didn’t mean to startle you.”

“You didn’t. I was just expecting someone else.”

He raised his eyebrows.

“Wisteria. She and I are going to crochet a rug. She’s gathering material now.” Rose was aware she was rambling. Jesse Rivers wasn’t interested in crocheting rugs. He must think her a dithering
—
what?
—
old-maid teacher?

“Would you like a cup of coffee?” Anxious to have something to do, Rose gripped the pot, turning toward the man.

“No, thanks. Been up since dawn. Musta drank a pot by now.” Damn, but she was pretty. The flush on her cheeks made her skin look like porcelain.

Now it was his turn to be rattled. He’d had no intention to stop by the school when he’d come into town to pick up supplies. No intention at all. But it must have been in the back of his mind after all, because when he saw the white building with its bell steeple, he pulled the wagon to a quick stop. The fact that he’d been thinking about Rose Bush since Tory had come home excited that he could read certainly had nothing to do with it. He was just grateful to her for seeing in Tory what no one else had recognized. Shame flooded him. Not even he had looked that deep past the angry boy to see his love and thirst for knowledge. And botany would have never entered his mind. He owed Teacher Bush his thanks.

That was why he was here
.
To thank her. No other reason. It wasn’t worth a second thought the fact that she looked especially pretty with the sun shining through the window, spinning her blonde curls to gold. He wasn’t at all aware of her captivating eyes, blue as a summer sky, dominating her delicate face.

“Please have a seat, Mr. Rivers.”

Rose’s discomfort was obvious. Why was she so ill at ease? Was she concerned that Wisteria would be upset finding him in her kitchen? No, she was glancing behind him as though expecting an avenging angel to appear.

Uneasy, Jesse turned to see if someone had come in behind him. “Expecting someone besides your sister?” The fact that she might be looking so darned fetching for a suitor sent shards of jealousy through him. Shards as sharp as broken glass. Why should he care? Of course a single woman as beautiful as Rose Bush wouldn’t stay unmarried for long in an area where women were a premium.

“No. No, just
—
”

“Just what?” He tried to keep the resentment out of his voice.

“It’s just that the school board is watching me so closely.”

“Why?”

Rose gave a sigh of resignation. “It doesn’t matter, Mr. Rivers. That’s my problem.”

“Then why do I sense it’s mine, too?”

“I’m sorry, but it’s not you. It’s me. You see, I violated one of the rules of conduct.”

Jesse couldn’t keep the grin from spreading across his face. “What’d you do, Teacher Bush, not ring the bell loud enough?”

“It’s not a laughing matter, Mr. Rivers. I am inches away from being dismissed. And they’d like nothing more than to discover I’m entertaining another Rivers . . .” She clasped her hand to her mouth. “I
-
I didn’t mean
,
I shouldn’t have . . .”

“Sounds like you should have,” he said harshly. “What did you mean by ‘another Rivers?’”

“Nothing,” Rose whispered. “Nothing at all.”

“Oh, I think it is.” He leaned back on his heels as his hand shot out and circled her arm. “Spill the beans, Teacher.”

“Let go of me.” She rubbed her arm when he quickly dropped it.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to grab you. Tell you what, let’s both take a seat and you tell me why those righteous old biddies have it out for you.”

“It’s not just the two women, its Mr. Whimpstutter, too.”

Jesse threw back his head and laughed, his teeth white in his tanned face. The sound filled the room, bringing with it a sense of comfort.

A fragile smile creased Rose’s lips. Jesse Rivers would be a force to reckon with. With him in her kitchen, larger than life, she felt safe. For the first time since she’d left Wyoming, she felt as if she had someone to turn to for protection. That it was this man, a man who gave every impression of disliking her, was something to ponder later. But for now, he filled and dominated the room, owning it with his broad shoulders, the brown flecks in his penetrating eyes, and his air of supreme confidence. Reluctantly, she took a chair opposite him as a sense of calm and ease entered her.

“Whimpstutter,” Jesse said, “lives up to his name. He’s a wimp, a bully that uses his position to strut about town like he’s damned important. Men like him don’t deserve . . .” His words dwindled off as understanding broke through. “Tory. It’s you tutoring Tory that’s the problem, isn’t it?”

Rose slowly nodded. “Yes.” She dragged out the word. “As Mr. Whimpstutter phrased it, I’m guilty of entertaining a man in my kitchen
,
plying him with cookies.” She raised her long eyelashes and a cute dimple appeared at the side of her full mouth. “Plying him with cookies. A young boy.” She spit out the words, her indignation and disgust evident.

“Did you explain what you were doing, that you were teaching him to read?”

“Yes, how did you know?”

“Overheard you two in the woods when you made him bargain to stay all day at school and you wouldn’t tell me about his leaving.” His lips quirked as he saw the dismay cross her face.

“I kept it from you,” she said softly.

“You sure did.”

“I had to. I had to have something to hold over Tory. Something that would make him remain in the classroom. Something that would make him apply himself to reading.” Rose looked up at him, her eyes shining. “He’s smart, Jesse. He’s so smart.”

“I know.”

“You know?”

“I just didn’t know how smart until you took the time to bring it out of him.”

Rose looked away, embarrassed, yet so very pleased at his praise.

Jesse got to his feet. “I came by to thank you. And now that I know it’s put your job in jeopardy, I feel I owe you more than thanks. I’ll take care of Whimpstutter.”

“No!” Rose exploded from her chair. “Please. While teaching isn’t my heart’s desire, I need this job. I need to save as much money as I can. I have to, Mr. Rivers.” She was back to the formality. “I have to.”

“Why?” Jesse demanded an explanation. And Rose knew he wouldn’t leave until he got it.

“Because,” she said, not looking at him, “because it’s the only way I’ll get back my dream.”

Jesse didn’t move, but he never took his eyes off her.

“What dream, Teacher Bush?” he gently asked.

“My dream of having my own ranch. I had it once, but lost it. This time
,
this time I’ll be smarter. This time I’ll fight harder and never, never give up.” She raised her head. “I’m a rancher, Mr. Rivers. It’s in my blood and I’ll never be happy doing anything else.”

With a grave expression on his face, Jesse said, “I wish you luck. I know exactly how you feel. I won’t interfere, but I’ll be there waiting, should you ever need me.”

And with that he was gone, taking with him her sense of security, as well as the sunshine from the room.