A Good Man for Katie (24 page)

No one said a word, but a few of the women nodded.

“What about Mr. Hunter?” Francine leaned forward and placed her hands on the table. Without the lacy tablecloth, her palms fogged the satiny surface.

“What about him?” Kathryne tried, oh, how she tried, to keep her voice steady, to keep the love she felt for him hidden.

“You’ve been seen with him.”

“Yes, in public places,” she lied again and this time, her face grew hot.

“He’s an outlaw. A killer for hire.” Francine’s voice dripped with her victory in finally succeeding where she had failed before. Kathryne would be relieved from her position. “We believe he may have had something to do with Mr. Turner’s murder.”

“That’s not true. He swore to me he didn’t kill anyone and I-I believe him.” Unable to stop herself from defending the man she had fallen in love with, Kathryne pleaded her case as if on trial. Which she was. She was already guilty in Francine Maitland’s eyes, but despite the condemnation evident on the woman’s face, Kathryne continued. “Chase Hunter is a good man. A kind man. He has been nothing but a proper gentleman toward me. And to all of you as well, in spite of your treatment of him.” She drew a deep breath, her focus on Laurel, who turned a bright shade of pink. “Didn’t he bring Walter back to you the day you helped me clean the cottage. And wasn’t he a perfect gentleman?”

She turned and pinned Jennifer Graham with an unflinching stare. “I saw him help you at the store when you couldn’t reach a jug of molasses on the higher shelves. And you, Holly—” Her head swiveled toward Mrs. Jessup. “—didn’t he find and return your son’s lost dog? What about you, Abigail?” She pointed at the woman. “Didn’t Mr. Hunter help get your buckboard unstuck from the mud when every other man in this town just stood there and watched you struggle?”

The last person she turned her unflinching gaze upon was Francine herself. “He’s been kind to you as well, Francine, despite your obvious hatred for him. I saw him help you when you fell in the street. Not only did he pick up your packages, but he made sure you arrived home safely.”

Kathryne stood and rested her hands on the table. “This isn’t about me or Shep Turner at all. This is about a man you know nothing about, a man you have labeled an outlaw. It’s your own prejudice, your own fear, but I believe you are wrong.” Tears filled her eyes and blurred her vision. She blinked in an effort to focus. “I like Mr. Hunter. There. I’ve said it. And if I should happen to meet him in the street, I will continue to offer him my kindness, my friendship.”
And my love
.

She took another deep breath, trying to keep the anger from her voice, as she looked from one woman to the next. “If that is grounds to fire me, then so be it.”

She held her head up and glanced in Emeline’s direction. Emy’s eyes were round and shimmered with unshed tears. Kathryne didn’t know if those tears resulted from pride or fear, but it didn’t matter. She’d had to stand up for Chase. Just had to. Laurel simply grinned at her, her face a beacon of sanity in an insane moment. Several of the other women whispered among themselves, their gazes going from her to Francine and back.

A knock sounded on the front door—persistent, demanding. Francine’s mouth twisted in annoyance as the women surrounding the table swiveled to face the front of the house. “Laurel, would you please see who that is?” Exasperation made her voice sharper than usual.

Laurel, sitting closest to the doorway, leapt from her seat and rushed down the hall. She returned in a moment, followed by every one of Kathryne’s students from the oldest to the youngest. Viola Rawlins, Denisa Bright, and Edna and Jake Shane stood behind the children.

“The children have something to say,” Laurel announced as she winked at Kathryne and took her seat. A lump rose to Kathryne’s throat and threatened to choke her as she stared at the faces she’d come to adore. Her heart swelled in her chest and she dug her fingernails into her palms to keep the tears at bay.

Joe stepped forward as the rest of the children gathered around him. “You can’t fire Miss O’Rourke,” he stated simply, but his face flamed with obvious embarrassment. “We love her and we’ve all decided we’ll find a way for her to continue teaching us. Pastor Richards said we could use the church if we need to.”

Viola Rawlins laid her hand on her son’s shoulder, her eyes soft and glistening. “I can vouch for what a good teacher Miss O’Rourke is.” Her glance went around the room, but settled on Francine. “You all know my son. You all know he was heading down the same path as his father. Drinking. Smoking. Gambling.” The boy shuffled his feet and turned away, but she continued despite his embarrassment. “Since Miss O’Rourke has come to the school, he’s getting all A’s on his tests and papers. He’s reading everything he can get his hands on. He’s become a polite young man, one I’m very proud to call my son, and I believe that is due to Miss O’Rourke’s influence.”

“Arlis wants to be a teacher,” Edna said as she stepped around Viola and nodded toward her son. “Just like Miss O’Rourke. You don’t know how proud that makes me.”

Kathryne sank to her chair, overcome with the emotions filling her. What began as a trial to see her lose her position had become a testament to the good she had done. This time, when tears filled her eyes, she didn’t try to hide them. She still might be fired, but at least she had this one brief moment of accomplishment.

“Mary couldn’t read at all.” Denisa Bright spoke from behind the children, using them as a shield against her innate shyness. Indeed, her face glistened with nervous perspiration above the blush staining her features. “Or add and subtract. Now she can. And she loves it.” Her voice lowered. “She has friends now, too.”

“When we heard what was happening today—” Jake spoke up for the first time. Actually, the first time Kathryne had ever heard him say a word. He usually greeted her with a nod and a smile. “—we couldn’t let it proceed without you knowing how we and the children feel. We’d like to have your decision to release Miss O’Rourke from her duties reconsidered. She’s an excellent teacher and a good friend. More importantly, she’s a good woman and the children are getting an education that will help them get into college. You all know she couldn’t have had anything to do with Mr. Turner’s death. I don’t believe Mr. Hunter had anything to do with his death either.”

A man of few words as he let Edna usually do most of the talking, he spoke like a statesmen, a great orator and when he finished, he held out his hand.

Kathryne rose from her seat and grabbed his hand as if it were a lifeline. She said not a word. She couldn’t. Her throat had constricted to the point where she could barely draw breath.

“We’ll await your decision.” Jake bowed and led her out of the room.

The small troop marched over to the Wagon Wheel. Edna served cookies and milk, regardless of the fact she might be ruining everyone’s appetite for dinner.

“Walter did it,” Joe told her as Kathryne sat at one of the tables, the children all around her. “He gathered us all together at lunchtime and told us what he heard Mrs. Maitland and his mother fighting about. He said his mother tried to calm Mrs. Maitland down, but she was too angry to listen. He said you were the best teacher and we couldn’t let you go.” The young man grinned then picked up a cookie and took a big bite.

“Thank you, Walter,” she said over the lump in her throat then reached out and hugged the red-haired moppet close. He squealed with embarrassment, the color of his face matching the redness of his hair, but allowed himself to be held. Indeed, he wrapped his arms around her neck.

“We don’t want you to go, Miss Kate,” he whispered then pushed away from her to grab his own cookie. He darted off to play with some of the other children.

“Don’t ye worry about a thing, Kate,” Edna said as she poured coffee into a cup and handed it to her. “Ye can have classes here if need be.” She lowered her voice, something she very rarely did. “Me and Jake know ye had nothin’ to do with Shep’s death. It ain’t in yer nature, and from what I kin see, ye ain’t got the strength to do what happened.” She heaved a sigh and the reassuring smiled disappeared from her face. “He wasn’t a good man.”

“Doesn’t matter if he wasn’t a good man, Edna. He shouldn’t have died that way.”

Edna shook her head and pushed the strands of graying hair away from her forehead. “Ye die like ye live, I always say.”

“Shep was beaten to death, Edna. No one deserves that.”

The woman harrumphed then moved away to get more milk and cookies for the children.

Viola Rawlins and Denisa Bright stopped by her table, smiles warm and welcoming. “I gotta get back to the house,” Viola said as she buttoned her threadbare coat, “but I wanted to thank you personally for all you’ve done for Joe.”

“It’s a pleasure to teach him, Viola, and he’s eager to learn,” Kathryne murmured as her gaze drifted past the boardinghouse owner and settled on Denisa Bright.

Denisa cast her eyes downward in an effort to hide her innate shyness, the perpetual rosy hue she always wore on her face present. “And Mary’s done so well since you started teaching her. She isn’t nearly as shy anymore.”

“Mary’s a lovely girl, Denisa, and very smart. I’ve been encouraging her to read every night.”

“Oh, and she does. Every night after the dishes are done.” Her perpetual blush deepened. “She’s even teaching me how to read.”

Viola reached out and grabbed her hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. “Good night then and don’t worry about anything. We’ll find a way to keep you as our teacher.” She let go after a moment then hooked her hand into the crook of Denisa’s elbow and escorted her from the building, their children tagging along behind them. Joe gave a final wave as the door closed.

The waiting became intolerable. Kathryne stared at her coffee cup, but left it sitting on the table. The thought of drinking the dark brew made her stomach turn. Or perhaps, her stomach turned because a group of women held her fate in their hands. The sound of her students talking amongst themselves and running around the Wagon Wheel drifted away, leaving an anxiety-ridden silence, a silence filled with her own thoughts.

It isn’t my fault. I did nothing wrong.

Yes, Kate, you did. You fell in love with an outlaw. And a man may have been killed because of it.

She shook her head in an effort to quiet the voice in her mind. It didn’t work. The voice kept intruding.
Where is Chase? Why is he not here defending you?

Defending me would have made it worse, but it doesn’t matter. I should just go home and pack my belongings, move into the boardinghouse until I figure out what to do.

Run away again?
The little voice dripped with sarcasm.

Kathryne stiffened beneath the taunting of her own thoughts, her muscles taut, her breath stuck in her throat.
No, I’m not running away.

She didn’t want to lose this position and be forced to go back to Washington, didn’t want to leave the children she adored, and the thought of never seeing Chase again, of never being in his arms, made her shake even more.

I’m going to fight this. Whatever decision the Ladies’ Society makes, I’m staying.

She opened her mouth, ready to call to Edna and ask for a job when the little bell over the door jingled, finally silencing her own circular thoughts. Kathryne saw six of the women from the Ladies’ Society. Everyone, in fact, except Francine.

She studied their faces as they approached her, but nothing in their expressions revealed what had happened after she left Francine’s house. She slowly rose from her seat. Her heart pounded against her ribcage and she clasped her hands in front of her to keep them from shaking.

Emeline smiled, then Laurel, then the rest of the women as they came forward and stood in front of her. Kathryne released the breath she’d been unaware she’d been holding. She sat quickly, her knees buckling in relief. None of them would have smiled if Francine had had her way.

“Francine has been outvoted,” Emeline said as she removed her gloves and sat beside her, laying a warm hand over her cold one. “Six to one. You still have your position, Kate.”

“Oh, thank God!” Kathryne cried as tears flooded her eyes. “I didn’t want to go back to Washington. Or even worse, Aunt Euphemia’s.”

“We know you had nothing to do with Mr. Turner’s death.” Laurel shrugged out of her warm winter coat and hung it over a chair then removed the scarf from over her head. “As for Mr. Hunter, well…I like him, too. So does Walter.”

The other women followed suit, removing hats, gloves, and coats before making themselves comfortable at the table.

“We’ve been thinking that perhaps our judgment of Mr. Hunter was a bit harsh,” Jennifer admitted, a lovely shade of pink settling over her cheeks. “You’re absolutely right, Kate. He comes into the store all the time and he’s always been very polite, very nice.” The pink on her cheeks darkened, highlighting the color of her eyes. “He has a weakness for peppermint sticks and lemon drops.”

A rush of warmth whispered through Kathryne. Not only had the mystery of who had been leaving candy on her desk been solved, but she wasn’t the only one who thought Chase Hunter was a good man.

Edna hustled over, a fresh pot of coffee in one hand, a cinnamon streusel cake on a fancy platter in the other. Her smile widened. Without being told, she seemed to already know the news was good. She winked at Kathryne. “I tol’ ye it’d be all right.” She placed the cake in the middle of the table then flipped over the coffee mugs already there and poured a cup for everyone.

“I don’t know what bee got under Francine’s bonnet, but she really doesn’t like you,” Emeline said as she stirred sugar in her coffee. Her eyes were wide and guileless as she looked up from her cup. “Or Mr. Hunter.”

“It doesn’t matter if she likes me or not. She doesn’t have to. As long as the children learn from me, that’s all that matters. As far as her liking Mr. Hunter, well, that’s her choice. She doesn’t have to like him, either.” Kathryne heaved a sigh as she picked up a knife and started slicing the cake. She put pieces on plates and passed them around the table. “One day, she and I will sit down and I’ll find out why she dislikes me so intensely, but until then, if you don’t mind, I’d rather not talk about Francine.” Emotionally exhausted from the events of the past few days, another sigh escaped her. “I owe you all a debt of gratitude that I can never repay. Thank you for believing in me and letting me keep my position. I adore teaching and I adore all my students.”