Second Chance Bride (7 page)

Seated at the dinner table a few minutes later, she studied the silver serving dishes and the lovely ivory china with silver rims. Mr. Sullivan’s wealth exceeded anything she could imagine. Never had she felt more out of place than she did here.

During dinner, Mr. Hanson continued to treat Annie with special attention that embarrassed her terribly. He was at least twenty years older than she was and not at all attractive to her. She felt very uncomfortable with his flattery and gallantry. How could she stop him without being rude?

When the embarrassing meal finally ended, John said, “Farley, if you don’t mind, I’d like to talk to Matilda about some school business. Also, she has expressed an interest in playing our piano.”

“Thank you for the meal, John. I will go attend to some work I need to finish this afternoon. Miss Cunningham, it was a true pleasure.”

“Thank you, Mr. Hanson,” Annie said, grateful to John for the reprieve from Mr. Hanson’s attentions.

When the Hansons left, John sent Elizabeth into the parlor and watched her seat herself at the piano before he turned to Annie. “Farley Hanson’s wife died last year. As I’m sure you’ve guessed, he’s looking for a new wife. I feel I must remind you of the terms of your contract.”

She frowned, attempting to understand his words.

“If you came to Trail’s End to find a rich husband, Matilda, I warn you I will oppose any such effort.”

Annie stepped back. “I assure you I have no desire to marry. I only wish to teach school.” Shaking, she turned to join Elizabeth in the parlor, unable to comprehend the tone of John’s voice and the ice in his eyes.

John was completely baffled by his own behavior. Why had he spoken to Matilda so rudely? He watched her as she approached the piano and sat on the bench next to his daughter. As Elizabeth sang, Matilda followed, playing only with her left hand, which reminded him that she still had not recovered from the accident.

Why had he felt the need to warn her away from Farley, a good man and a friend? Seeing him flirt with Matilda had bothered John. He had to admit she had done nothing but politely discourage the old fool.

Perhaps he himself was the fool, struggling with an odd emotion that was so different from how he’d felt about any woman before. He was confused and uncertain around Matilda, both feelings he was not used to coping with.

What was it about her that drew both him and his friend? Men who had never acted foolish about a woman before?

Well, of course, there was the fact that men outnumbered women greatly out here. He’d gone to St. Louis to find Celeste, who had hated every moment of her life in Texas. A woman as lovely as Matilda with no family to guard her as Farley did his daughter—such a woman was sure to attract attention.

Yet she showed no flighty tendencies. She did not flirt. She had not encouraged Farley, nor had she showed any interest in John himself. He realized with a start that this was what probably bothered him most.

He sighed as he watched Elizabeth and Matilda in the parlor. He’d always found the ranch house stifling, a reminder of his overpowering, controlling father. He often didn’t like the man he was in this house, much like his demanding parent. At times like this, he longed to be outside, training horses with Duffy or riding across the prairie or even mucking out a stall.

It was time and past for him to stop allowing his father to dominate his life from the grave. But habits formed over a lifetime bound him like a lasso. The lectures that a Sullivan behaved differently—was not guided by mere feelings—still echoed and shaped his behavior.

He watched the teacher with his daughter. Matilda played a chord, then placed Elizabeth’s hand on the piano keys and told the child to do the same. She smiled up at her teacher, so sweetly, with so much trust, and followed the instructions. When Elizabeth picked out the tune after Matilda had showed her the correct keys, they both smiled.

This was a woman who obviously loved children and who was a good teacher. A woman who attracted him so much that he walked into the parlor to stand next to her, hoping that she would turn that beautiful smile on him.

And he’d done it even before he realized he’d moved an inch.

Annie glanced up to see John next to her. Which man was he now? The stern banker who lectured her? Or the daredevil who raced across the meadow with wild abandon? The banker intimidated her, but she actually feared the other man more. The man with the fleeting smile and the sincere blue eyes was far more dangerous to her because that man attracted her. That man she could fall in love with.

When she stood to leave after practicing a few more pieces, he looked down at her. “I must apologize for my earlier words, Matilda.” He shook his head. “I meant them as a mere reminder, but they came out rude and judgmental. I’m sorry.”

Yes, this was a man she could care about. But she dared not allow herself to.

O
n Monday morning, Annie called the students to order. “Children, let us go over some of the last letters of the alphabet.” Annie picked up a slate to show the Sundholm twins. “Here’s a
Q.
” Her circle was round and even. “Here’s an
R.
” Her strokes were strong and clear. “And here’s an
S.
” She made it just the way she’d seen it on the sign in front of the Hansons’ ranch.

To her surprise, the older children became very quiet looking at each other as if they did not know what to do.

She looked at the
S
but could see nothing wrong with it. It lay flat on the line she had drawn below the letter.

“Miss Cunningham,” Elizabeth said. “I think you want to tilt your slate like this.” She took the slate and turned it so the
S
stood straight up. “The way you held it, the letter looked like a lazy
S,
like the Hanson brand.”

“Thank you, Elizabeth. How clever of you to notice that.” Annie put the slate down and bit her lip. “Children, why don’t you run outside now for just a little bit.”

“But, Miss Cunningham, it’s not even time for lunch yet,” Ida said.

“Yes, children, I know, but it’s a lovely day. Run around a little. I’ll call you back for arithmetic in a few minutes.”

When they left, Annie sat behind her desk and dropped her face into her hands. How could she ever have thought she could fool these children? A lazy
S.
She’d written a lazy
S.
Now they all knew she didn’t know a real
S
from a lazy
S.
Eight-year-old children knew the difference, but she didn’t. Tears spilled between her fingers.

“Miss Cunningham.”

She looked up to see Rose and Samuel.

“We didn’t mean to hurt your feelings by laughing. We’re sorry,” Samuel said. “The other children sent us in because we hurt your feelings.”

“Miss Cunningham, you’re the best teacher we’ve ever had. Please don’t cry.” Tears gathered in Rose’s eyes.

“I’m the best teacher you ever had?” She wiped at her face with her hand.

“Oh, yes. You are so nice and so pretty. And you sing so well, and you know your numbers.” Rose nodded. “We all really like you.”

“The last teacher didn’t want to teach us anything. Sometimes she was mean.” Samuel looked at her with wide, sad eyes. “Please don’t cry. We won’t laugh anymore.”

“Oh, children, I want you to laugh. I want you to enjoy school.” She stood and waved her hand. “Go on outside, and play for a few more minutes. I’m fine. Just a little tired and shaken. From the accident, you know.”

“Yes, Miss Cunningham.” The two ran toward the door.

The best teacher they’ve ever had? Annie collapsed in her chair, laughing so hard that tears of joy spilled down her face. For the first time in her life, she felt like the luckiest woman alive.

On Wednesday, Annie sat on a bench in the shade of the twisted post oak trees and watched the children play. The students ran and hopped, laughing with the delight of the young. The sun reflected on Rose’s red braids and Frederick’s blond hair seemed to set those colors on fire. The last blossom of a blue mist flower that shown purple against its ashy green leaves drew her attention while a goldfinch sang
te-dee-di-de.

She smiled. She never thought she’d find herself in such a paradise. She’d lasted for six whole school days. She’d learned to print well and had just begun to work on cursive. Late at night, she’d puzzled through the stories in the first three readers, read several geography lessons and assigned poems for the upper levels to memorize. She was successfully teaching herself as she taught her students.

“Miss Cunningham!” A shout interrupted her reverie.

Annie leaped to her feet and ran in the direction of the voices where little Clara Sundholm lay on the ground. Annie kneeled next to the child.

“What happened, Clara?”

Tears rolled down the child’s face. “I fell down.” She pointed to a scrape on her knee.

“Oh, sweetheart.” Annie wiped the child’s face with her handkerchief. Clara held her arms out. Startled, Annie picked up the girl who threw herself against her teacher’s neck and sobbed.

“There, there.” She patted Clara on the back as the child cuddled against her. Annie had to squeeze back tears herself. The softness of the child and her utter trust opened something inside Annie. The reaction felt like ice melting. She felt a warmth and tenderness she remembered from her own mother’s hugs and she allowed the child’s affection to curl around her heart and embrace it tightly.

She stood and carried Clara to the bench where she settled down with her. Little by little, the girl calmed down and with one last sob, fell asleep, her head against Annie’s shoulder.

Annie looked down at the exhausted child. She gently rubbed Clara’s cheek with the back of her hand and softly sang a lullaby as she rocked the little girl.

When the sound of hoofbeats intruded, she looked up to see a stranger approaching on a roan gelding.

“Good afternoon, Miss Cunningham.” He pulled up his horse a few feet from her bench.

All she could see was a thin face with a long, jagged scar across his cheek. Startled and a little frightened to be alone in the clearing with this unknown man and her students, she clutched Clara more tightly to her chest and turned to look for the other children.

With slow grace, the man dismounted and stood beside her. “Who are you?” Annie demanded, fear making her forget her manners.

“Didn’t mean to alarm you, ma’am. I’m Cole Bennett.” He took off his hat to show dark hair tied back with a strip of leather. “Sheriff Cole Bennett.”

Of course. She recognized him from church.

He nodded toward the bench. “May I sit down?”

With a nod, she relaxed—but only a little. Yes, sheriffs were lawmen, but many were retired gunfighters, nothing more than hired hands for crooked ranchers.

“Teacher.” Clara squirmed. “You’re holding me too tight.”

“How are you, Clara?” He smiled at the child who lit up his gaunt face. He was a handsome man, despite the scar.

“Hello, Sheriff.” The child looked down at her knee and then at the others playing in the grass. “I’m fine now. I want to play.” She jumped from Annie’s arms and dashed toward her friends.

“I came by to introduce myself, ma’am.” He leaned forward on the bench. “To let you know that if you need anything for yourself or for the children, you only have to come to town or send Ramon to get me.”

“Thank you, Sheriff. That’s comforting to know. If I need you, where would I find you?” She cautioned herself not to relax too soon. She knew this type of man too well. Her father had once been handsome and charming, at least for long enough to court her mother.

“Most often I’m in my office in the jail, which is just down the street from the hotel.”

“What are you doing here, Bennett?” John’s voice interrupted.

Annie looked up in surprise. Although his horse stood only a few feet away, she hadn’t heard his approach. Wary of the sheriff, she’d missed his arrival. From his words and glower, she could tell that John obviously did not approve of her conversation with the sheriff.

“I thought I should introduce myself to the new schoolteacher.” He stood, nodded at her and put his hat back on. “A pleasure to meet you, ma’am.”

“For me also, Sheriff.” She got to her feet and watched as he mounted his horse and rode off.

“Matilda, I know you are innocent in the ways of the world, but you should not associate with that man.” John shifted in the saddle as his black horse danced sideways.

“He merely stopped to introduce himself. He seemed nice.”

“He’s anything but nice. Bennett’s a retired gunfighter. He’s not the type of man a schoolteacher should associate with.”

Although Annie was glad John considered her innocent in the ways of the world and hoped he would never find out differently, she wondered why he spoke so strongly. She did not plan to keep company with the sheriff. He’d only paid a polite call on a newcomer to town.

John wasn’t jealous, was he? How absurd. He was just a man very concerned with appearance. She’d noticed that before. It was important to him that the teacher
he’d
hired would avoid anything that could be considered immoral.

“Please remember you agreed not to associate with people of low degree. That describes Sheriff Bennett exactly.” He tugged on the reins to control the restless horse.

“I have no plan to associate with anyone of low degree,” she said, irritated by his repeated lack of trust in her.

He nodded. “I only wished to clarify the matter.”

“You need not clarify this issue. Be assured I understand my contract. If you remember, we went over it together.” Afraid she would lose her temper, Annie turned toward where the students were playing. She kept an eye on Clara, telling herself she did that not because she didn’t want to meet Mr. Sullivan’s eyes but to assure herself the child had recovered.

After nearly a minute, she heard, “I’ve done it again, Matilda.”

She turned back to see him shaking his head.

He smiled ruefully. “I jump to conclusions about you. Again, I apologize.”

“Thank you.” What else should she say?

“I came here to tell Lucia to return home. Her son is sick.”

“Oh, dear. How ill is he?” Annie stood.

“I don’t believe it’s serious. Ramon just requested that Lucia come home to care for him.”

“I didn’t know she and Ramon had a son. How old is he?”

“Miguel must be almost eight by now.”

“Eight? Why isn’t he at school?”

“He works at the ranch.”

“But he should be in school. Certainly Miguel will do much better in life if he can read and write.”

“Unfortunately many young people in this area don’t attend school because they are needed by their families. Others cannot afford school, even with the low tuition rate.”

“How sad,” she said, recognizing that he could have been talking about her as a child. What would John think of her if he knew her story? What would he say? More importantly, what would he do? Annie never wanted to find out.

“I also came to give you a message,” he said. As Annie took a few steps toward him, he frowned in concern. “Are you limping?”

She looked down at her feet. Although she’d laced her shoes loosely, they pinched so much that she hobbled toward him. “I hurt my foot in the accident. My shoes rub, but I’m sure I’ll be fine shortly.”

“We cannot have you in pain, Matilda. Not even for a short time. Do you need new shoes?”

“I would like a new pair, but I don’t have the money to buy them yet.” And she had no idea when she would be paid—or if she would be paid when the children told their parents about the incident of the lazy
S.

“Then I’ll advance you part of your salary.” He reached in his pocket, took out a bill and handed it to her. “You have, after all, taught for a week. Do you need anything else?”

Annie, astounded, almost couldn’t think clearly. “A brush. I lost my brush in the wreck, and some soap.”

“I’ll have Lucia bring you soap tomorrow. Also I’ll put some money on account for you at the general store, as well as the bank. You can draw it from either place for your necessities.”

“Thank you, John.” She smiled, delighted by the feel of money in her hand and the thought of wearing shoes that fit properly. “You said you had a message for me?”

He simply watched her for a moment, his eyes filled with an admiration that made her self-conscious. She shifted, ill at ease under his scrutiny.

He finally cleared his throat and said, “I’ve been asked to bring you to a meeting of the school board on Tuesday of next week in my office at the bank. We’ll leave here shortly before seven.” He turned, got into the surrey and had driven off before she could say anything or ask for more information.

What would they expect of her at such a meeting? Would they test her? Would they expect her to read for them? Or to recite a poem?

She sighed. Well, there was nothing she could do about it now. She’d have to wait until Tuesday and hope she could show herself to be competent.

“Thank you, Mr. Sullivan. That sounds fine. I’ll be ready,” Annie yelled.

Two o’clock Friday, at almost the end of the school day, Elizabeth waved her hand, trying to get Annie’s attention. “Miss Cunningham, Miss Cunningham.”

Annie looked up from Clara’s arithmetic. “Yes, Elizabeth?”

“Guess what I’m getting for my birthday?”

“When is your birthday, Elizabeth?”

“Today, today!” Her face glowed with excitement, then changed quickly to dismay. “I was supposed to tell you. Lucia is bringing a cake today, just before the end of school. So everyone can celebrate with me. I’m sorry. I forgot to tell you.”

“That’s all right.” Annie smiled at the rest of the class. “Do you mind that Elizabeth forgot to tell us, or can we all agree to eat the cake Lucia brings to help Elizabeth celebrate?”