The Teacher's Mail Order Bride (10 page)

R
ose had never worked so hard
in her entire life. Getting up in the dark and milking cows and gathering eggs seemed like a walk in the park compared to the week she, Michael, and Suzanne had just had.

She tried to remember the first day of school for her—so many children, all excited to see their friends again after sometimes months of separation. Most of the day was spent with her, Suzanne, and Michael calming students down and breaking them into groups by reading ability. For today, they’d moved the desks into three separate groups, Suzanne taking one, Rose another, and Michael the final one toward the front, by the chalkboard.

Rose had the youngest group, one with Lily and Lucy in it, and she was impressed at their ability to sit quietly and do as she directed. She smiled as she watched them try to copy the letter “A” on the small chalkboards she’d given them, and along with a few other students, they’d made it up to “D”—which Rose thought was pretty good progress for one day, for children who were just getting ready to learn to read.

She watched Michael, his shirt sleeves rolled up, push his glasses up as they’d slid while he was laughing. He stood and strode over to the bookshelf, tapping his nose with his finger as he perused the titles she’d arranged by author. He chose one and flipped it open, smiling as he snapped it shut and turned back his group. He caught her eye as he walked back to his group, nodding slightly in her direction with a broad smile that had come to be familiar to her, one that she liked very much.

She overheard him ask the older students what they’d done in the summer, what was their favorite book and what they hoped to learn this year. She admired his ease with people, all faces in his group turned toward him with rapt attention as he read a few pages out of the book he’d retrieved from the book shelf.

After a few hours of study, Michael decided that it would be good for the students to be outside for a while, and Rose was happy to take a break. She helped her small charges on with their coats and ushered them to the back door. Michael opened it wide as all the students rushed out into the back play yard, the boys immediately running through the piles of leaves that had fallen from her favorite shade tree.

A group of the girls found a stick and scratched out a hopscotch board in the dirt to the right, and a group of the older students just walked, boys separate from girls. It was all utterly familiar to Rose, just as it had been when she was at school.

She sat on the bench when all the students had settled into their activities, wiggling her toes in her boots, her tired feet reminding her that she was actually working hard. Suzanne let out a whoosh of breath. She waved at Lily and Lucy as they ran over to the hopscotch board, picking up rocks as markers and standing in line to take their turn.

“This is more work than I realized,” Suzanne said as she leaned back against the wall of the schoolhouse. “It makes working at the mercantile look easy.”

Rose’s stomach fluttered when she heard Michael’s deep, rich laughter. He walked over and sat down as well. “I find it invigorating. However, I’m not sure I would say the same without you two. Can you imagine what it would be like to have all of these students on your own?” He whistled slowly as he shook his head.

Rose gazed over the play yard, grateful that no one had wandered beyond the small perimeter next to the school and into the sand and cactus that surrounded most of Tombstone. “I think we’re fortunate that they’re all as well-behaved as they are. And they all seem to be very excited to be here.”

Michael’s eyes clouded as he, too, looked across the yard. “Yes. It should be something that all children are allowed to take advantage of.”

Rose had had the same thoughts as Ben guided the buggy to the schoolhouse. Her thoughts ran back to the boy she’d seen the first day she’d gone to the schoolhouse. She wondered where he was today, as he was noticeably absent—to her, anyway—in the throng of students laughing and playing before her.

“Is there nothing to be done about that?” She turned to Michael as he took off his tortoiseshell glasses and rubbed his eyes, his mood somber.

Suzanne leaned forward and looked over at Michael as well. “I know you’ve spoken with the school committee about this, but is there nothing we can do? As individuals? If I knew who these children were I could have James speak to their parents if they come into the mercantile.”

Michael’s eyes brightened a bit and he replaced his glasses, pushing them up his strong, Roman nose. He brushed his hands through his hair that Rose noticed just touched his collar, one of the waves falling back over his forehead. She shook her head. She was supposed to be thinking about how to get students in school, not about how handsome this man was. A man, no less, who was betrothed.

Her thoughts turned back to the boys she’d seen by the gate. “Maybe we could find out who they are? I realize it could be challenging, and Tombstone’s growing daily, but maybe if we enlisted everyone we know to help...”

“I admire your passion, Rose. But I think you’re efforts would just confirm what we’ve spoken about. That not all students
want
to come to school, and not all parents will allow it.”

“I have a hard time accepting that,” Suzanne said, her lips pursed.

“I feel the same.” Rose turned to Michael, his deep sigh telling her he did not agree. Or did he? Maybe she was naive, and he’d seen this happen more than he could argue with. But if that was the case, Tombstone was a different place, and she refused to believe it. “I realize that you have more experience with this type of thing, but I can’t believe that lack of concern exists here in Tombstone.”

Michael stood, taking a few steps toward the tree as he surveyed the students. He crossed his arms over his chest and turned toward Rose and Suzanne. “I can’t thank the two of you enough for helping me. I bet you didn’t realize how much work it is—and that makes me even more grateful.”

Rose wondered if he’d read her mind as she wiggled the toes on her aching feet.

“I have an idea. This whole week will be a long one with all the excitement, and I’ll need to stay after the students leave to keep things organized. As a small gesture of gratitude, I’d like to take you both out on Friday to celebrate our first week, for a late lunch, or at the very least a piece of pie. I have just the place in mind. Bailey’s Restaurant.”

Rose raised her eyebrows. That was the small restaurant where she’d seen the boy, and the possibility of identifying him and questioning his reasons for not being in school intrigued her. “That sounds lovely. I’d be happy to,” she said, certain that the three of them could sort this all out.

Suzanne stood and waved to Lucy and Lily again. “That sounds lovely and I appreciate the offer, but I’ll need to get Lucy and Lily home and then to the mercantile to help James.”

Rose’s stomach flipped. She’d assumed Suzanne would be joining them. Would it be proper for her to visit a restaurant with a man who was promised to another?

“We will miss you, but I’m sure Miss Archer will find it quite interesting. We can leave right after the last student does.” Michael turned his brilliant smile toward her and she pushed the question from her mind.

O
n Friday
of their first week, Michael closed the door after waving to the final student to leave. Satisfied with a job well done and very happy with the way the first week of school had turned out, he turned to Rose. She looked exhausted, and he felt the same. The week had gone by so fast it was almost a blur, and he looked forward to having a quiet meal at Bailey’s Restaurant. He hadn’t seen any of the boys hanging about, but he thought he knew where he could find at least one.

He silently regarded her for a moment as she replaced the books the students had been using on the bookshelf. He’d been impressed with her passion about students being in school, but he couldn’t help but think she was a bit naive when it came to any sort of pervasive “love of learning.” He admired that she had it—but was also aware that, contrary to her opinion, that love wasn’t shared by everyone. Or respected.

Rose brushed back one of her dark brown ringlets that had escaped. The copper tones shimmered in the sunlight that streamed through the open window, and he noticed that at some point, she’d removed her jacked and had rolled up her white shirtsleeves as well. He chuckled, wondering if rolled-up shirtsleeves actually indicated a hard worker—and likely, it did.

He shook his head as the thought popped in that he should be hearing from his future wife soon—his future wife! What a strange thought, that this woman—Margery—whom he had never met would soon be his wife.

He realized his hand was in his vest pocket, his fingers curled around his pocket watch, and he pushed the thought of Margery from his head and crossed over to where Rose was. She’d just placed the final book on the shelf, and he said, “You must be famished. Are you ready to go get something to eat?”

A flash of uncertainty crossed her face, and she looked a bit uncomfortable. “I’ve been thinking about that. Would it be proper for me to accompany you? You are, after all, to be married soon.”

His pulse quickened and his brows furrowed in a flash of anger at his predicament. Why shouldn’t he be able to take his volunteer assistant for a celebratory meal? He moved his thoughts from Mrs. Samson quickly, so as not to move on to bad ones as she was the instigator of his current woes.

His life, for the most part, was still his own, however, and he would not be deterred in taking this lovely young woman out for a harmless piece of pie. Besides, his primary objective was solely for her to meet Sammy, and maybe his father, and then understand the futility of her quest to educate all the children of Tombstone.

“Miss Archer—Rose—I believe it would be fine and proper. Truly. You are my assistant, and we’ve just successfully navigated the first week of school. Mind you, it isn’t always as smooth as this has been. Trust me—we deserve a small celebration.”

Rose smiled as he held her jacket for her. His eyebrows rose as his hands brushed the back of her neck, under her copper curls, surprised at the heat he felt in his fingers. He quickly drew them back and reached for his own coat, shaking the sensation off.

“After you,” he said as he held the door open for her, the sound of her skirt swishing through the door leaving him with a smile.

The walk to the restaurant was brief, and he tipped his hat to several people on the boardwalk. He realized he’d made some friends here already, and it seemed that the people he didn’t know, Rose did. She smiled and waved at them all, her cheery manner keeping his mood light, also. She seemed to take things very calmly and he’d noticed earlier how at ease she’d been, a natural, with the younger students, keeping them all in check.

As he pulled her chair out at Bailey’s Restaurant, he decided to mention it. He sat down opposite her and said, “You did a fine job this week at the schoolhouse. I was very impressed at your ability to keep so many young ones in line. Lily and Lucy were model students.”

His heart warmed at her shy smile, and he noticed the color come up in her cheeks as she cast her eyes down at the table, her long, dark lashes covering her eyes. He frowned—he’d not meant to embarrass her. Quite the contrary. It was a compliment that was truly sincere.

“Thank you, Mr. Tate.”

“Michael,” he corrected her. He wasn’t quite sure why, but he wanted her to call him by his given name—and to get to know her better. “Have you had much experience with young children before now?” The words were barely out of his mouth before he remembered her family—and he colored a bit at his silly question.

Rose laughed, her smile bright and her eyes lively. “I have five sisters, only one older than I am. Surely you haven’t forgotten them all at the table when you came for supper.”

“I do apologize. That seems long ago, and I’d forgotten. You must have gotten quite an education in small children in a household like that. It seems very foreign to me as an only child.”

Her hand rose to her chest, her look of surprise causing him to laugh.

“I imagine you can’t fathom what it would be like to be an only child.” He looked up from his menu at the room, seeing only a man behind a display case and a young woman moving from table to table. No sign of Sammy.

“No, I certainly can’t. It must have been very...quiet.”

“Actually, it didn’t seem so to me. My family—my parents—had an Italian restaurant and we lived above it. I had many aunts and uncles and cousins, so it probably wasn’t as quiet as it would normally be as an only child.”

“A restaurant? How lovely,” Rose said. “I loved cooking with my mother but don’t have much opportunity to do so these days. Maria’s taken over the kitchen.” She smiled and glanced around the small restaurant. “What kind of restaurant was it?”

Michael laughed loudly and the waitress turned their way and smiled. “Italiano, of course,” he said. “What else?”

Rose smiled and his face heated at the twinkle in her eyes. She truly was a beautiful rose. He shook his head away from the thought that his mother would like her very much.

The young waitress approached their table, and Rose ordered soup—after the waitress told them the special of the day was potato chowder—and a piece of pie.

“The same for me, young lady,” he said. Before the waitress could turn to leave, he added, “Is Sammy here?”

She whipped back around toward him, her eyes wide as she looked from him to the man behind the counter and back. “Uh...um...he’s in the back...he’s busy.” She turned away quickly and went behind the counter, whispering in the ear of the man they’d seen when they walked in.

Michael placed his napkin in his lap and smiled at Rose, her eyebrows raised as she watched the exchange.

“Who’s Sammy?” she asked as her eyes trailed to the waitress and the man behind the counter.

“I believe he’s one of the young boys we saw at the gate days ago. One who was not in school.”

“Oh,” she said quietly as she craned her neck to see behind the counter. “I wonder if—”

Michael stood as the man the waitress had whispered to came to their table. Michael stuck out his hand and said, “Hello. I’m Michael Tate, the new headmaster at the schoolhouse, and this is my assistant, Miss Archer.”

Rose nodded her head at the man as she placed her napkin in her lap.

The man stopped and looked down from Michael’s gaze to his hand and back up again. He slowly reached his hand out, quickly shaking Michael’s before letting his hand drop to his side. “Name’s Bailey. I hear you’re asking after Sammy,” he said as he folded his arms over his chest.

“Well, yes, I am, Mr. Bailey,” Michael said, producing the widest smile he could. He’d had experience with parents who chose or were forced to keep their kids from school—and as he still wasn’t sure which category this situation fell into, he’d decided that humor and kindness would be his safest bet. “I noticed he wasn’t in school this week. Perhaps you weren’t aware that it started?”

Mr. Bailey rubbed the back of his neck and blew out a deep breath. He looked from Michael to Rose, and back to Michael again. He searched the room for the young waitress, and when he caught her eye, she smiled and nodded at him, and as she did, Michael noticed the resemblance between the two.

Michael sat down as Mr. Bailey pulled over a chair from the table next to them and turned it around. He threw his leg over the seat and rested his arms on the back of the chair and he glanced at Rose and lowered his eyes, resting his head on his hands.

Michael stole a glance at Rose. Her hand was on her chest and she seemed unable to take her eyes off Mr. Bailey. Michael felt he knew what was coming, and it was exactly what he’d hoped Rose would hear.

Mr. Bailey exhaled a deep breath, lifted his head up and said, “I know Sammy should be in school, Mr. Tate. I do. All my children should be.” The waitress who shared his coloring walked up behind him, resting her hand on his shoulder as her eyes misted. “Including my daughter, here, Maddy.” He looked up at her and their eyes met. He patted her hand that rested on his shoulder and shook his head.

Maddy, who Michael thought looked to be about fourteen, squeezed her father’s shoulder. “It’s not our fault, sir. We were all in school last year, then Mama died, and...”

Mr. Bailey turned to look at his daughter. “It’s all right, Maddy. I can explain. Those folks over there need help,” he said, pointing to a table by the window.

Maddy smiled, nodded at her father and crossed the room to the table.

“She tries to protect me. Since their mama died, it’s been pretty rough on all of us.”

Michael turned to Rose in time to see her wipe away a tear and quickly replace her napkin in her lap. He suddenly remembered that her mother had passed away fairly recently, also, and his heart clenched at the thought of these two families and what grief they must be suffering.

“I do understand, Mr. Bailey, more than you know,” Rose said warmly, reaching out and placing her hand on Mr. Bailey’s arm. “But don’t you think it best that the children continue in school?”

“Easy for you to say, ma’am. My wife and I ran this place on our own pretty well, but since she died—well, I need all the help I can get. Need to feed this family, and there’s not enough spare to hire anybody. The kids have to help. It’s the only way.”

Michael snapped his head to Rose as she drew in a sharp breath. She brought her napkin to her mouth as she looked down at the table. His heart tugged, but he hoped now that seeing directly in front of her what kinds of troubles some families had, she might understand and that it would make things easier for her.