The Teacher's Mail Order Bride (6 page)

“
W
ell
, that wasn’t too bad, was it?” Suzanne asked Michael as they headed down the drive and out under the big, metal sign that said
Archer Ranch
.

Michael looked up as they passed under, never having been to a ranch like this before. He turned back in the buggy, taking in the white adobe ranch house, bigger than any he’d seen, and the smaller house next to it, its garden fading as summer waned and cooler fall temperatures arrived.

Suzanne turned as well, her puzzled expression fading as she turned to Lucy and Lily. Michael smiled as he watched her corral them and calm them down, and was silently grateful that she’d be with him in the classroom, at least part time. He as yet didn’t know the make-up of his students, but two busy ones like that could take quite a bit of time away from the others, no matter how sweet they were.

He looked back at the house once again, repeating Mr. Archer’s words in his mind. He’d understood how a protective father of a lovely single woman such as Miss Archer would want to make himself aware of where she would be spending her time, and with whom. God knew that Mrs. Samson would want to know that permission had been given and received all around before she’d allow such a thing, and he was pleased that Mr. Archer had agreed.

Having two volunteers for assistance in the classroom would be grand, but he was somehow particularly pleased that Miss Archer would be joining him. During dinner—the likes of which he’d never seen and he’d told Maria, the cook, so—he been drawn to Miss Archer’s enthusiasm, her willingness to join in the conversation and her eager questions of him and Mrs. Allen about what life was like back east. She’d even peppered Sam with questions, much to his apparent delight, and it had all in all been a very pleasant evening.

He turned to Suzanne, pulling his bowler hat further toward his eyebrows. “No, it wasn’t bad at all. Quite nice, in fact.”

“Yes, they’re a lovely family. We’ve been friends for quite a long time, and I’m pleased for Rose that her father would even consider her working at the school.”

He furrowed his brows, looking from Suzanne to James as they exchanged glances. “It isn’t uncommon to have volunteers in the school, I don’t believe.”

James cleared his throat as he guided the horses back toward town, Suzanne’s arms around her twins as their heads bobbed, slowly lulled to sleep by the horses’ hooves. “A bit of history there, Suzanne?”

“What? You usually want me to
stop
telling stories,” Suzanne said as she nudged her husband with her elbow and smiled.

“This is different,” James said, his eyes back on the road.

“Hm. Well, Mr. Tate, Mr. Archer was very much in love with his wife, Katie Archer, and she tragically passed a few years ago.”

Michael frowned as he leaned forward in his seat. “I’m terribly sorry to hear that.” He thought of his own mother and how bereft he would be if she were to pass suddenly, and wondered how the family had fared.

Suzanne sighed. “Yes, it’s been difficult for all of them. Mr. Archer, particularly. And as a result, he’s had a great deal of—shall we say—difficulty allowing his children to grow up and move on. Actually, they’re not really children anymore. Even Pepper, the youngest, is seventeen now.”

Michael sat back in the seat of the buggy and tipped his hat back. “Didn’t I hear that his son had married not long ago and Meg and Sam fairly recently?”

“Yes, that’s correct, but in both cases, it was difficult to get him to accept it. So when Rose decided she wanted to volunteer—actually hand off her ranch responsibilities and travel to the schoolhouse each day—I never thought for a moment that her father would agree so easily. Never expected that.”

“Now, Suzanne, he’s changed quite a bit in the last year or so. Give him some benefit of the doubt.” James turned down the street toward the boardinghouse and Michael sat forward, ready to hop out of the buggy. The girls were asleep and he was sure they were eager to get them home and to bed.

“I appreciate the background. We will all be working closely together, and that helps,” Michael said as the buggy drew up to the boardinghouse and stopped. He stood and hopped out, reaching his hand up to shake James’s. “Thank you for the ride, James. And thank you for the assistance. I sure would have been at a disadvantage had I gone alone.” He tipped his hat and turned, his foot on the first step of the porch.

“Michael, things are going better than could be expected. You’ll see. Everything will be fine.” Suzanne nodded at him and turned back to the girls.

“Famous last words,” James threw in Michael’s direction as he flicked the reins, prodding the horses to continue.

Michael reached the top of the stairs and stood on the porch, leaning against the railing of the boarding house as he watched them turn the corner, heading to their own home. He turned and reached for the boarding house door and hoped they were right.

T
he remainder
of the evening had gone well and Rose finally had a good night’s sleep after her father’s favorable nod—although conditional—to the idea of her volunteering in the classroom. She woke early, as the first rays of the sun shone through her window.

She reached her hand under her pillow, assuring herself that her favorite book was in its proper place before she pulled the patchwork quilt up and made her bed. Pulling on her blue day dress, she smoothed the skirts and fastened the buttons. She reached into her wardrobe and grabbed her work boots, dust still on them, but stopped and looked at them before returning them to her wardrobe and reaching for a different pair of shoes, ones more suitable for her day in the classroom. She wouldn’t be milking cows or gathering eggs today.

Her first day in the classroom! She twirled in front of her mirror, tucking her brown curls into a chignon at the base of her neck and fastening it with a tortoiseshell comb her mother had given her—just like the one Meg had. Satisfied that she looked more like a teacher that way, she reached for her wrap and swung it over her shoulders.

The clock hadn’t yet rung seven and Rose paced in the parlor, anxious for the time to come that she could go to the school. They hadn’t discussed a particular time, but she had decided that she would arrive at eight o’clock, only because it was the time that school had started when she attended. Thinking back to those days, she remembered how badly her stomach had grumbled when she’d been in such a hurry to get to school that she’d forgotten to take anything for lunch and she quickly headed to the kitchen, hoping that there was something from the fiesta the night before that she could take with her.

“I was hoping you’d remember to have some breakfast before you went off to school.” Maria stood by the stove, stirring the large pot of porridge that was a breakfast staple.

“I honestly did forget, Maria. I came to see if there was something I could take for lunch.” Rose opened the bread box, peering inside hoping to see a leftover empanada, the turnovers that Maria had made for the prior evening.

Maria closed the door on the side of the stove and twisted the lever tightly. “Sit down for a moment and eat some porridge. I’ll pack you something to take.”

Spoon and bowl in hand, Rose helped herself to some porridge and sat down at the table, twirling on her way from the stove to her chair.

“I can’t remember you being this excited about anything since the last day of school. I think you did that very twirl every school day,” Maria said, her hand poised over a small cloth bag as she filled it for Rose.

“But never on Saturday or Sunday. I remember, too, and I actually don’t think I
have
been this excited since. I loved school.” Rose tried to eat her porridge but her fluttering stomach made it impossible. She gave up and set her bowl by the sink, glancing apologetically at Maria.

“Don’t worry. Pepper always has seconds and I’ll give her that. It won’t be wasted.” Maria tied up the bag and held it out to Rose. “This should do. There’s a little something in there for Mr. Tate, too. He seemed very nice, and certainly was handsome.”

Rose reached for the bag, her head cocked to one side as she raised her eyebrow at Maria. “You think he’s handsome?”

“I do—and I know you do, too. I saw the way you looked at him.” Maria winked at Rose as she reached out, grabbed her shoulders and turned Rose toward the door.

“I don’t think I even looked at him at all, let alone in any way special,” Rose said, perplexed by the heated flushing of her cheeks. She hadn’t, had she?

“Say what you like, but I know these things. Just don’t forget that you’re a grown woman, Rose. Meg is married now, so don’t forget you should be next.”

“I have no interest in marrying, certainly not any time soon. I only want to help in the classroom. And besides, he’s sent for a mail order bride. I don’t even think of him in that way.” Rose pushed the swinging door open and looked back at Maria before it swung shut, sighing at Maria’s broad smile and another wink.

Ben had brought the small buggy around for her and tied the horses up to the post. With one last glance at the grandfather clock, Rose untied the horses and pulled herself up into the buggy, her nose and cheeks tingling in the crisp morning air.

“Hold up there, Miss Rose.”

She turned to look behind her, and as Ben ran up to the buggy, she said, “What is it, Ben? Are the horses not ready to go?”

Ben took off his hat, fiddling with the brim as he looked at his boots. “Ah, your pa asked me to drive you in to town. Said we might need the buggy while you were at the schoolhouse.”

Rose narrowed her eyes at Ben, and looked over to the stables where three other buggies were tied to posts. She turned back to Ben, whose cheeks were now crimson and he gave her a weak smile as he shrugged his shoulders.

“Oh, all right. I suppose it’s better than not being allowed to go at all.” She scooted over and handed the reins to Ben, who was almost like a brother to her. He’d worked at Archer Ranch for years as a ranch hand, doing just about anything her father asked. Hank and Clara had gone to Tucson to see about buying a few more horses that might be suitable for more riding lessons, so it appeared that it was Ben’s turn to stand in.

They settled in for the ride, the horses’ hooves settling into an easy rhythm. Just before they arrived at the schoolhouse, Ben pushed his hat back on his head and turned to Rose. “Mind if I ask you something, Miss Rose?”

“Of course not, Ben.” Rose turned to Ben, noticing that he’d grown up and filled out—looked more like a man than a boy, which she guessed he probably should since he was as old as her older brother, Hank. She must not have been paying attention.

“What’s all this ruckus about mail order brides? I don’t even know what that is.” He lowered his eyes toward the horses and pulled his hat back down low on his forehead.

“Oh, you mean having a bride come from far away?” Rose thought of her new sister-in-law, Clara, and Sadie, Suzanne’s twin sister, who’d married Tripp. “I suppose there aren’t enough women in the western territories, so some men decide to write away for someone from a bigger town. I really don’t know much more than that, I’m afraid.”

“Heard the new teacher did the same thing. Is that right? There really ain’t many women around, I suppose.”

Rose fiddled with the bow of her bonnet as she waited for Ben to come around and help her down. “I believe he did, Ben. They were talking about it last night at dinner, and I think he has a couple of ladies he’s written to.”

Ben shook his head slowly as Rose walked toward the schoolhouse door. “I just can’t imagine such a thing. What if she was ugly? Or had fake hair? Or bad teeth and sent a picture of her pretty neighbor instead of herself?”

Rose hid her smile behind her hand. She’d actually heard of some of those kinds of things so wasn’t surprised that Ben had, too. She’d even seen a poster in the town hall that said the contract would be null and void if the woman had misrepresented her—attributes. “I do imagine that happens, Ben. I think that there’s a waiting period, just to make sure everyone’s happy, with some provisions in place if it isn’t a good match.”

“Well, I tell you, I don’t think it’s a very good thing. I know Hank is happy and all, but for me? I don’t think so.”

“Were you considering sending away for a mail order bride?” Rose was a bit puzzled and she narrowed her eyes at her longtime friend.

“No, siree. Just too big a chance for me. I think I’ll know the right one when I see her. I’m happy to wait.” Ben smiled as he pulled himself into the buggy.

“Ah, a true romantic,” Rose said as she reached for the door latch to the schoolhouse and waved goodbye to Ben.

“I’ll be back for you around two o’clock. Is that right?”

“Yes. Thank you, Ben,” she said as he turned the buggy around and headed back to the ranch.

Her hand firmly on the door latch, Rose straightened her skirts, squared her shoulders and opened the door to her new future.

R
ose smiled
at the familiar creak of the wooden door as she slowly pulled it toward her and poked her head inside. It didn’t look quite as tall as it had when she was a young girl, but it was still imposing.

She saw no movement inside the schoolhouse, but entered slowly, pulling the door closed behind her. The scent of vinegar wafted to her, and she wondered who had been in cleaning. Mr. Tate? Not likely—or if it had been him, he’d be the only man she’d ever met who actually cleaned something indoors.

She wandered up the aisle between the small, wooden desks that had also seemed so much larger when she was young. The teacher’s desk sat off to the corner, to the left of the chalkboards, and the stack of books on it seemed larger than it had the other day when she’d been there.

The fall air was crisp still, but the sun had warmed enough that she felt confident opening the windows, at least a couple, to get some fresh air inside. When she’d attended there, the headmaster hadn’t allowed open windows, even on the hottest of days. She had to admit, birds building nests in spring and passing stray dogs didn’t help much to keep any students’ attention on what they were learning.

The wood of the small boxes that each student was assigned felt smooth as she ran her hand along its polished ends. She searched above for the piece of paper with box assignments on it but found none. Maybe Mr. Tate hadn’t made the assignments yet, not knowing which students would be attending. She could help with that.

She walked to the front of the room, glancing out the windows as she wondered what had happened to Mr. Tate. She had been sure he’d be here by now, and as she looked at the watch pinned to the bodice of her dress, she absently plopped down in the chair behind the teacher’s desk.

The door latch moved and she jumped up, realizing that the chair was reserved for the actual teacher, not her. Mr. Tate rushed in the door, his bowler hat in hand as he reached to place it on the hook by the door. His white teeth flashed as he saw Rose and smiled, nodding slightly in her direction. “Good morning, Miss Archer. I do apologize for my tardiness.”

“No problem at all, Mr. Tate. I’ve just been familiarizing myself with the classroom. Or familiarizing myself again, I should say.” She fingered the ties of her bonnet as he hung his hat. She’d forgotten she even had it on, and untied it, pushing back a stray brown curl that had come lose from her chignon.

“Here, let me hang that up for you,” he said as he reached his hand toward her, taking the bonnet and turning toward the hat rack.

She furrowed her brow at the same rush of heat she’d felt when his fingers had brushed hers the night before at dinner. Was she that excited to be in a classroom? Maria’s words ran through her mind and she shook her head, eager to get to the task at hand.

“Ah, that’s right. This was your schoolhouse too, wasn’t it?”

She nodded and took a seat in a chair set against the wall, folding her hands in her lap. “Yes, it was. And I miss it.”

He looked up from the desk and smiled. “I loved my schoolhouse, too.” He looked around at the tall ceiling and the rows of desks. “Mine was a little bit different, though.”

“Oh? How so?” Rose had only been in this schoolhouse and couldn’t imagine what would have been different. “Bigger, maybe, since you were in a bigger town?”

Mr. Tate’s eyes clouded as he looked back down at his desk. “No, not bigger. Not a big difference, I suppose. Students are students.”

Rose furrowed her brow, but when she was sure he wasn’t going to offer any additional information, she said, “Speaking of students, the other day at the ice cream fundraiser there was a group of boys behind the tree, not wanting to join the group.”

“I’ve noticed the same group, but each time I try to approach, they scatter.” He took his glasses off and set them on the desk. He rubbed the back of his neck and went to the window Rose had opened, looking both left and right.

“The same happened with me. I didn’t recognize any of them at first, but the other day I thought I saw one of them working in the kitchen at Bailey’s Restaurant.”

Mr. Tate’s eyebrows rose as he turned toward her. “Oh? Well, that explains a bit of it, then.”

“What do you mean?” Rose stood and walked to the windows on the other side of the room but saw no sign of the group of boys.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes briefly before he looked up at Rose. “I’ve seen it happen before. It would appear that the boys don’t feel welcome, and it would be for one of only two possible reasons.”

Rose raised her own brows, waiting for him to continue. He paced in front of the chalkboard. “I’m not yet familiar with the culture of this town, so I’m not exactly sure which it is. Maybe a little of both.”

“I don’t know what you mean. Tombstone is like any other small town. At least it has been. But in the past couple of years, it’s nearly quadrupled in size, so I suppose I don’t know everyone any longer. What are you referring to?”

Mr. Tate cleared his throat. “In my experience, children do not come to school for one of two reasons. Frequently, in cultures where work is important—well, necessary—they are needed to help with the family business. It’s quite common, I’m afraid.”

Rose had lived in the area her whole life, at the ranch before Tombstone had even become an official town. She and all of her sisters had come to school and it had been important to her parents that they did. At the time, all the children that she knew had also come to school, but she supposed there may have been other children on outlying farms who didn’t. She hadn’t really thought of it before, having been immersed in her own learning.

“I have to say I’m surprised that could be the case, Mr. Tate, but I suppose I do understand. Don’t the parents realize, though, that an education is what’s best for their children? That the world is a very big place, and learning how to read and write and all about the world is what will help them?”

He looked at Rose and slowly shook his head. “Unfortunately, that’s not the opinion of all parents. For many of them, the world is quite the opposite of a very big place. It centers around one location and one goal—survival.”

Rose rested her hand on her chest, not quite able to understand. “You mean that the livelihood of the family, the ability to eat, rests on the shoulders of young children? At their expense?”

“I mean exactly that. Many households struggle to have enough food, or money to buy what they can’t produce on their own. From what I’ve seen of Tombstone so far, farming is very difficult with the limited water supply. So families must rely on whatever business skill they have or work skill, and that requires workers. And children can be workers.”

“I did wonder why some of the children only came to school for a few years. Now that I think about it, when they grew a little taller, a little bigger—they stopped coming to school.”

Mr. Tate folded his arms over his chest and leaned against the desk. “My point exactly, I’m afraid.”

“I suppose not everyone was like me growing up. Or had a family like mine that really placed a great importance on education. Even when my sisters didn’t want to come and would rather play in the barn, we had to attend. It wasn’t optional in my house.”

Mr. Tate sat back down behind the desk. “Nor mine. But I also know that my family was the exception rather than the rule. I knew many boys who never came to school. And never learned how to read.”

Rose gasped, her hand on her cheek. “Is that possible?”

“I’m afraid it is, Miss Archer. Sadly so.”

“I suppose we ought to consider ourselves fortunate, then,” Rose said as she glanced again out the window. “You mentioned another possibility? Another reason why they might not come to school?”

Mr. Tate sighed as he ran his hands through his dark, wavy hair. His eyes clouded as he said, “I don’t know this town very well. I shouldn’t speculate, really.”

Rose stood at the sound of his voice, wondering what could cause him such concern. “Please, I’d like to know what you mean.”

He turned toward Rose and looked directly into her eyes. “I hope this isn’t the case, but I’ve also seen places where certain students weren’t...shall we say...welcome.”