Loving Liza Jane (22 page)

“Ben, you mustn’t…”

“That’s the first time you’ve called me by my first name,” he said, suddenly warmed by the realization.

“Yes, well…”

“What were you going to say?”

She moved away from him, taking up the big handbell on her desk. “I’m going to call the students in. I’d rather you weren’t here when they come in.”

“You wouldn’t want anyone getting the wrong idea?”

“Exactly.”

“I’m afraid I can’t leave until you tell me what day you plan to go up to the Bartel and Baxter farms.”

Sighing, she let her shoulders slump in resignation. “How is Wednesday?”

He gave her a victory smile. “I’ll be waiting outside the school with my rig. I’ll see if Emma will watch Lili until we get back.”

“Fine,” she said, keeping a careful distance.

He grinned. “Tell Lili I stopped by to see her, but she looked like she was having too much fun for me to interrupt.”

She nodded curtly. “I’ll tell her.”

“Good-bye, Teacher.”

With that, he walked outside wearing, he knew, a silly grin on his face. And just like that, the name of Sarah Woodward popped into his head—like a nagging ache for which he couldn’t find one ounce of relief.

***

As promised, Ben was waiting outside the schoolhouse on Wednesday afternoon. Climbing down from his rig, he offered up a smile warm enough to match September’s sun. Liza’s insides fairly melted when she saw him, but lest she allow her feelings to show, she gave him a stiff smile and turned her back to him to lock the schoolhouse door.

“Papa, Miss Merriwether got flowers today!” Lili bounced down the steps to greet her father.

“Did she now?” Ben asked. “Does she have a secret admirer?”

“I don’t know if it’s a secret,” she answered, climbing aboard the runabout.

Liza approached the smiling man and took his outstretched hand, feeling a gentle squeeze when he helped her up to the high seat. “An admirer, Miss Merriwether?” His tone was low and guarded. “I’m not sure I like the sounds of that.”

Liza found herself giggling, charmed by the wary look in his eye. Was he toying with her?

“Tell Papa who gave you the bunch of flowers, Teacher.” Lili sat in the seat behind and leaned far enough forward to wrap her arms around her father’s solid neck. Liza couldn’t help but notice the continuing smile on Ben’s sun-bronzed face as he set the horses at a slow trot down Main Street heading for Emma Browning’s place. The clip-clop of their feet against the hard earth competed with the birds overhead. Out of the corner of one eye, she saw him reach a hand up to gently pat Lili’s wrist, and the simple act filled Liza’s heart with some kind of unknown longing. Was she coming to love this family? She’d known them for such a short time, but already they’d touched her heart in more ways than she dared admit.

“Well?” Ben said, turning his gaze on Liza. “Who is this secret admirer?”

Liza gave a light laugh. “I suppose it’s no secret that one of my students seems to have a slight crush on me.”

Ben lifted a thick black eyebrow. “It’s easy to understand why he would.”

His gaze swept over her until she was forced to look away. She was enjoying the repartee far too much to be considered proper. After all, wasn’t Benjamin Broughton betrothed to another? Perhaps she would bring up the matter later if his flirtatious overtones continued.

“Who is it?”

“Sam Hogsworth.”

“Sam? I thought he and his twin brother were troublemakers. What have you done to turn poor Sam into a love-struck noodle head?”

Both Lili and Liza laughed now. “It’s ’cause she’s so pretty, Papa. Everyone says so. You should see how the boys watch her, as if they was old ’nough to court her.”

“Oh, Lili, such talk,” Liza cried, deeply embarrassed by the added attention. “That’s plain silly. Besides, you’re the pretty one. Now, may we please discuss something else?”

Lili rattled off any number of tidbits pertaining to her school day on the way to Emma’s place. As usual, Ben gave her his full attention, even though his watchful eyes kept trailing back to Liza.

Once at Emma’s, he instructed Lili to be on her best behavior, promising to come back for Molly and her as soon as possible.

“You don’t have to do this, you know,” Liza said after they started on their way up the mountainside.

Ben’s gaze moved over her face until the palms of both her hands turned sweaty and she had to wipe them on her skirt. “Oh, but I do, Liza,” he whispered, his voice carrying its usual mellow tone. “I told you before; I won’t risk anything happening to you. Now, sit back and relax.”

Warmed, Liza closed her eyes to the breezes and allowed herself the luxury of enjoying the ride.

Her visit with the Baxters was unusual, to say the least. Mrs. Baxter showed her face briefly, long enough to present Liza with a cup of lukewarm iced tea, offer her a shy smile, and then scoot back into the kitchen at Mr. Baxter’s gruff orders. The poor woman appeared worn to the bone. Stringy brown hair fell upon scrawny shoulders, while her smudged, gaunt face, although devoid of deep wrinkles, looked old beyond her years. Something in the woman’s eyes ached for recognition.

“Oh, but I would love to have Mrs. Baxter join us, sir,” Liza had said, aching for the woman and annoyed that her husband would dismiss her when he knew good and well that the teacher had come to introduce herself to the family. Of course, where the family was remained a mystery. Either Rufus had conveniently hidden himself, or his father had purposely sent him and the rest of the clan to another part of the house. Rufus was the youngest of ten children. It crossed Liza’s mind that as soon as the children reached age sixteen they probably skedaddled. Maybe it was just Rufus who remained.

“Ain’t a bit necessary,” he’d answered, losing a wad of spittle in the pronouncement.

“But I would like to talk to both of you about what Rufus can expect to learn in school this year. Perhaps Mrs. Baxter could assist him in his studies.”

He laughed outright at her suggestion. “That woman ain’t got the brains of a butterfly. Anythin’ pertainin’ to ar son’s educatin’ best go through me.”

Liza seriously doubted that Rufus had acquired an ounce of intelligence from his father’s genes.

“But—” At that, Ben had jabbed her hard enough in the side to nearly knock her off balance. She took the poke as a clear warning to leave the matter alone. Still, it did little to settle down her anger at Mr. Baxter’s impertinence.

For the next few moments, she and Ben sat on straight-backed chairs while she tried to initiate pleasant conversation between hasty sips of her iced tea, Ben’s promise to leave the talking to her an instant regret on her part. To make matters worse, the visit lasted only as long as the iced tea, after which Mr. Baxter stood to his feet and shuffled to the door, his way of shooing them on their way.

Liza had barely begun discussing her expectations for the school year, let alone her early observations about Rufus’s lack of interest in learning and Clement’s negative influence. She’d had a nagging feeling from the first day of school that Rufus would be a different boy were it not for Clement’s poor example.

“Thank ya fer stoppin’ by. I’m sure my boy won’t be givin’ ya no trouble. If he does, well, ya have my permission to hit ’im ’longside the head.” To this, he tacked on a throaty laugh.

“Let’s be going, Miss Merriwether,” Ben said evenly. He took her by the elbow. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Baxter.” Then Ben steered her toward the door with both hands on her shoulders.

“I don’t resort to physical punishment,” Liza said, half turning.

“Humph! My boy’s accustomed to rough handlin’.” He puffed his chest up at the remark, as if it were something of which to be proud. “Can’t imagine what the school board was thinkin’ in hirin’ a lady not much bigger than a pea pod.”

He threw his head back and laughed at his own remark. Liza opened her mouth to say more, but Ben stopped her with his cool, “We’re leaving now,” and pushed her out the door.

Once Ben took the horses’ reins in hand and headed up the trail in the opposite direction, Liza let him have it. “What was that about, Benjamin Broughton? You were supposed to accompany me, not thrust me out the door before I finished what I came for.”

“I didn’t thrust you. It was more like a gentle nudge. And the man had finished listening to what you had to say as soon as you said hello.”

“But I’m his son’s teacher.”

“True, but not all parents place as much importance on their child’s education as you might wish.”

“Poor Rufus.”

Ben turned to look at her. “You’re something.”

“What do you mean?”

“I believe you’d have pushed that man to his limits if I hadn’t been here. No telling what trouble you might have found yourself in.”

Liza swept a bothersome strand of hair out of her eyes. “He’s pig-headed and obnoxious. Anyone could see that. I feel sorry for his wife.”

“I’m sure she doesn’t know any other way of life,” he supplied.

“He as much as said she was stupid. I hope she didn’t hear him.”

“She’s heard worse, I’m sure. One thing you should know about these hill people is that they live by their own set of rules, and you best respect them for it.”

“What do you mean?”

“A lot of things go on up here that not even the law will get involved in, Liza. Until we have lawmakers that are willing to risk life and limb, I suppose it will continue for generations to come.”

“What kinds of things are we talking about?”

“Bootlegging, thievery, all forms of abuse. Even incest. Everyone in these parts carries a gun. Didn’t you see the pistol Baxter had tucked away in his hip pocket?”

Liza gasped. “No! I saw the rifles on the wall, but I assumed those were for hunting game.”

Ben chortled, looked both ways when they arrived at a fork in the road, and then guided the rig to the right. He seemed to know exactly where he was going. “They hunt game all right. Trouble is it’s not always the four-legged kind.”

Liza put a hand to her mouth to stifle a shriek. “Is murder another one of their vices?”

“They wouldn’t call it murder. They would call it self-defense, protecting their property and their rights as citizens. They don’t consider themselves criminals, and for the most part, they’re not. Most folks up here are as law-abiding as the next; however, there are some who rule their land as if they were kings, going to any lengths to keep people off it.

“They treat their women, daughters included, as second-class citizens, more like slaves. Most of the wives up here grew up in similar situations. They look at it as a way of life.”

“These people need the Lord,” Liza said, her heart suddenly fallen clear to the tips of her high-top shoes.

Ben looked straight ahead. “You’re right on that count.”

***

The Bartel place sat on a large stretch of land. Ben had no idea how much property Angus Bartel owned, but he’d heard from some that it was close to a hundred acres, and probably more. How he’d found the money to acquire it was another matter. To Ben’s knowledge, he’d never held a job, at least not in town. Some thought he made brew of the strongest kind and sold it to the underground market. Ben had seen men of every known description come and go in these parts, most slickly dressed, wearing guns under their long, dapper coats.

This was dangerous ground to be on, but Liza was a stubborn woman. There was no way he would have allowed her to make the trip alone.

“Is that it?” Liza asked after they rounded a bend in the trail.

“It is.”

“It’s not much more than a big, run-down shack. The Baxters’ farm was better than this.”

The yard, littered with waste, created a potluck for roaming chickens and goats to pick at. A nearby barn looked ready to topple. Tall, unmowed grass bent to the gentle breezes while an array of soaring wild flowers grew up helter-skelter, untouched, a stark contrast to the peeling white paint on the ramshackle, clapboard, two-story house.

“Most of the men in these parts make their money, then squander it on gambling and such. They patronize Madam Guttersnipe’s hangout on a regular basis, I’m afraid. They’re not much for taking care of their possessions, unless someone tries to steal away what’s theirs.”

Liza visibly shuddered and Ben put a hand to her shoulder. “You should let me do the talking, Liza.”

“But I’m Clement’s and Rosie’s teacher.” Her pert little chin jutted out in defiance. He couldn’t help but admire the little spitfire. And maybe what he was feeling went even deeper than admiration. Whatever it was, he knew his heart was in trouble.

“Okay, you do the talking, but if I need to cut in, I will,” he said.

“That seems fair enough.”

“And when I say it’s time to go, don’t argue with me.”

Liza gave him a dubious look before relenting. “All right, I suppose you know more about what to expect than I do.”

“Believe me, Liza, I do not know what to expect, and that’s what makes me nervous.”

“Hold it right there!”

Ben halted the team in the middle of the road and looked all directions before he spotted Angus Bartel’s approach from behind a decaying shed. How long had the burly man with the scruffy, graying beard been watching from his hiding place? Denim overalls hung loosely over a dirty shirt, and a tattered felt hat perched sideways on his head of longish hair added to his already coarse appearance. What stood out the most, however, was the shotgun he held at the ready.

“Mr. Bartel, we’d be obliged if you’d put down the gun. We mean no harm,” Ben said, determined to stay calm for Liza’s sake.

“Can’t ya read? Sign says, no trespassin’.”

“We saw the sign but figured you wouldn’t mind if…”

“Well, would ya lookie there, Paw?” From the barn came a sauntering Clement Bartel, as big as his father, if not taller and huskier. Instinct told Ben the boy was trouble. Greasy strands of long, sandy-colored hair lay across his pimpled forehead. Baggy, torn pants fell haphazardly below his exposed waistline. “It’s my teacher. Ain’t she a perty one? Didn’t I tell ya she was a looker?”

Ben’s gut twisted to the point of nausea.

“Shut yore mouth, boy.” Angus spat on the ground. “Show some respect.” But even as Angus spoke the order, it was obvious by the glint in his eye that his son’s remarks had humored him.