The Teacher's Mail Order Bride (9 page)

R
ose thought
the sun would never rise and that the night before the first day of school was the longest night of her entire life. She smiled as she remembered that the night before the first day of school had
always
felt like the longest of her life, even when she was a student. The anticipation was worse for her even than on Christmas morning.

The nerves hadn’t relented and she’d not been able to eat much supper at all, so she’d gone to her room after singing with her sisters and gone through her wardrobe, having difficulty deciding what to wear.

As she came upon the last dress, she smiled and ran her hand over the green skirt and green plaid jacket her mother had given her. She held it up by the lantern to get a better look at it as the sunlight was fading quickly. She picked up one sleeve and held it up, wondering why she’d never worn it.

In the dimming light, she turned to the mirror and held it in front of her, lifting the sleeves with her arms. Ah, now she remembered. When her mother gave it to her, she’d not yet seen any of the newest ladies’ fashions that were in magazines nowadays. Her mother and father had just returned from New York and although her mother had told her it was the latest fashion, all she knew was that the billowing arms were impractical...even for school. But now, she wouldn’t be a student—she could even take her jacket off if she desired, the crisp white shirt underneath it perfectly appropriate for school.

Hanging it back up carefully in her wardrobe, she searched her wooden jewelry box for a necklace or some sort of jewelry that would match, but gave up when she couldn’t find anything. It wasn’t as if she had much jewelry, anyway, and she was only going to school. But it did matter to her that she give a good impression—to the students, of course.

She’d finally climbed into bed after asking Maria to wake her a bit early. She and Ben would need to leave very early to be at school by seven a.m. as Michael had requested.

She hadn’t needed to bother. Now as the sun barely began to turn the black sky a lighter shade of blue, she was up and out of bed. She turned the wick up in her kerosene lantern, struck a match and sighed at the warm glow that covered the room.

By the time Maria opened the door and poked her head in, Rose was already splashing cold water on her face, the soap invigorating her and making her tingle even more.

Maria’s eyes widened as she peeked in the door and she opened it wider when she saw Rose smiling at her. “Ah, I saw the lamp was lit and I thought maybe I was late, but you’re early.”

Rose motioned for her to come in as she dried her face on the towel beside the wash basin. “If I’d known you’d be up so early, I would have brought some warm water for you,” Maria said as she pulled Rose’s comforter over her bed. The girls usually did their own housekeeping in their rooms now that they were grown, but Rose didn’t stop her, knowing that she still liked to take care of them when she could.

As Maria fluffed Rose’s pillow, she found the worn copy of Rose’s favorite book. Her eyes softened as she flipped through the pages and Rose’s eyes misted as Maria lovingly ran her hand over the inscription Katie Archer had written for her second daughter.

M
ay
this book inspire you to follow your dreams, wherever they may lead you.

R
ose had read
it so many times that she could almost see it with her eyes closed, emblazoned in her memory. She watched as Maria gently closed the book and placed it back under Rose’s pillow, covering it up gently and pulling the comforter over the pillow.

“We all miss her, Miss Rose,” Maria said as she sat back down on the bed. Rose crossed over to her, turning so that Maria could help with her corset—which she dreaded wearing. As Maria pulled at the strings. “Is it working,
mi hija
?”

“If the objective is that I cannot breathe, then yes,” Rose gasped as she held onto the footboard of the bed.

Maria laughed and loosed the laces a bit. “No, not this. The book. Is it inspiring you?”

Reaching for her clothes in the wardrobe, Rose thought for a moment. Was it? Truth be told, she was doing something today she never in her wildest dreams thought she would be doing, so maybe it was. She turned to Maria, her eyes wide. “You know, I think it must be. I never expected that I’d be helping in the school. Not long ago, I was just milking cows and gathering eggs. This never even crossed my mind as a possibility.” She slipped her shirt over her head and Maria stood and crossed to her, pulling it over her corset and buttoning her sleeves.

Maria reached for the skirt, helping Rose to step into it and fastened the button in the back, smoothing it down as she went. She reached for Rose’s shoes, loosening the laces and rubbing them once over quickly with the towel on the vanity, the black leather shining.

As she pulled on her boots, Maria said, “Things happen just when they are supposed to, Miss Rose. It’s perfect, and I’m happy for you.”

Rose turned and hugged Maria, who wiped at Rose’s tears with the corner of her apron.

She held Rose’s chin in her hand and said, “Your mother would be very proud of you, and so am I. School is very important, and people need to know that. Everyone needs to go, whether their parents need them at home or not.”

Rose stiffened as her eyes widened. “Do you know about that?” she asked. She had never heard anyone speak that way—everyone assumed that all children went to school like she did, she supposed.

Maria sighed. “I know it is hard for you to believe. Your parents were very supportive of you girls going to school. That’s new, too. In my day, girls were not allowed to go to school. Wasn’t important. We only learned to cook, clean and take care of children.”

Rose blinked slowly, trying to understand what she was hearing. “Is that true?” she said softly.

“Sadly, it is. Very few women here in Arizona Territory learned how to read and write.”

She sat down at the vanity, stunned at the information she’d just received. She hadn’t known how fortunate she was to have her parents’ support to even be allowed to go to school. She wondered if Maria knew anything about the boys that they’d been unable to locate as she seemed to know much of what was happening in town. She’d stayed after the Mexican-American war, not wanting to leave her birthplace even though it now belonged to a different country—one that spoke a different language.

“Maria, I’ve seen some young boys who loiter around the school but who don’t come in. They didn’t sign up for school, but they seem to really want to come. I saw one leaving the schoolhouse with a couple of books, but he dropped them when he was startled to see me on the bench. Why don’t they come to school? I don’t understand.”

Maria sighed, rubbing at her eyes with her thumb and forefinger. “I imagine it is difficult for you to understand,
mi hija
, as it has not been your experience. But many children are not allowed to go to school. Their parents need them to help work, to earn enough money or grow enough food to survive. Your father has taken very good care of his family, but not all families are as fortunate.”

So what Michael had said was true. She hadn’t thought she was naive—after all, she knew much about the world, or at least she thought—but anybody not having the ability or encouragement to even learn how to read and write—well, the thought was shocking.

Maria turned Rose back toward the mirror and held her plaid jacket for her to put on. Rose slipped her arms into the billowing sleeves that Rose had once thought impractical, but as she looked in the mirror now, she felt different. Maybe a little older, less naive.

Maria caught Rose’s gaze in the mirror, resting her hands on Rose’s shoulders and said, “Yes, Miss Rose, the world is a very big place. Unfortunately, it’s not always a fair or gentle place. Not for everybody, anyway.”

Patting Maria’s hand with her own, her gaze steady in Maria’s eyes. “Maybe this opportunity is so I can help. And if there’s any way I can, I intend to.”

M
ichael woke early
—not unusual at all on the first day of school. He reached for his glasses and for the thousandth time wished he didn’t have to wear them. He hadn’t had to when he was in school—something he was grateful for—but as he moved on to his teacher training, he realized that it was harder and harder to read. Finally breaking down, he mentioned to his parents that he thought he might need spectacles, and had worn them ever since.

He sprung out of bed, hoping that it was still early enough to stop by the barber for a shave. He had his straight-edge, of course, but trying to rustle up some hot water this early in the morning had proven a challenge here in the boarding house.

The boarding house—he stiffened at the thought. He had a bride coming. They couldn’t live in the boarding house. At least not for long. As he pulled on his white shirt and buttoned it, he thought he might ask Suzanne and James about housing when he saw them next. He had originally thought he’d be at the boarding house for several months—which was fine with him as he wouldn’t be cooking for himself anyway—but this new turn of events meant he’d need to make other arrangements.

He pulled on his trousers and vest, slipping the ring of his pocket watch over one of the buttons. He held it in his hand, his thumb running over it as he admired the mother of pearl face. The back was worn smooth and it was difficult to make out the inscription. He knew it by heart, though, as it had been a wedding gift from his father to his mother.

Y
ou have my heart forever
, amore mia.

Y
ou have my heart forever
, my love. He sighed, wondering what his parents would think of this arrangement he’d agreed to. He couldn’t imagine that he and his future bride would ever say that to one another.

He slipped on his shoes and threw on his coat, glancing at the pocket watch once more before he dropped it in the pocket of his vest. He’d have to hurry if he wanted a shave.

His bed left unmade—another thing he hoped his mother never found out about—he slipped out the door of his room, closing it quietly behind him. He heard no noises in the boarding house and crept down the stairs and out the front door, stepping into the growing light.

Taking a deep breath, he headed for the schoolhouse in long strides. He slowed as he neared the barbershop, relieved to see a light on inside. As he passed the business right before it he stopped, a movement just on the other side of the glass catching his eye. He turned to peer in the window, rubbing it a bit with his sleeve to make the glass clear again. As he squinted his eyes to see inside, the figure of a small boy moved from the back room to the front, pulling a heavy pail behind him. Michael stiffened as he recognized the boy—one that he and Rose had seen before, running out the gate as they were spotted.

He reached for the door latch, jiggling it a bit before realizing it was locked. As he did, the boy started, dropping the pail and looking at the door, his eyes widening when he saw Michael again peering through the window.

Michael stood back from the window and straightened, startled as the boy ran from the front room of the restaurant to the back as quick as his legs would carry him. He furrowed his brow and took off his hat. Tugging at his bow tie, he couldn’t think of a reason that the boy would be frightened of him.

Shaking his head slowly, he continued on to the barbershop. The barber looked up as the bells on the door jingled.

“Good morning, Mr. Tate,” the barber said, shaking out a towel and slipping straight-edged blades into hot water. “First day of school, is it?”

Michael had been to see this barber a few times since he’d been in Tombstone and he enjoyed his easy manner and friendly ways. As he sat in the chair and the barber wrapped a towel around his neck, he said, “Yes, yes it is.”

The barber covered Michael’s face with a warm towel as he dipped his brush in soapy lather. When he took the towel off but before he could cover him with lather, Michael asked, “Do you know the young boy at the restaurant next door?”

It had apparently been enough, and the barber covered him with lather and started to shave while he talked.

“I sure do,” he said. “That one there is Mr. Bailey’s youngest, Sammy. I think he’s about ten, maybe younger. He’s a good boy—helpful, too. Lugs in my water buckets for me when I’m busy for a penny or two. Hard worker, that one. His older brother helps out, too. But they’re good kids. Dad’s nice enough. Got a decent restaurant going over there. Serves mostly decent belly food, but it’s good. Lots of miners stop in early. He’s only open for breakfast and the noon meal. Closed at night. Suppose he wants to be home with his children, now his wife’s died.”

Michael couldn’t respond while his face was covered in lather, and then was careful not to as the barber slipped the straight blade over his face in quick, even strokes. As soon as the barber wiped the remaining lather off of his face with the damp towel, he sat up and said, “Sounds like you’ve known them for quite a while. They ever gone to school.”

The barber raised his eyebrows, his face splitting into a wide grin. “You kidding? School’s not for those boys. They’re working boys. Their dad needs their hands. Wasting their time at school, he always says.”

Michael furrowed his brow. “Wouldn’t it make more sense if they could read and write and do their numbers? They might be more help then.”

The barber wiped his hands on his apron. “Later, maybe, when their daddy can’t do that any longer. But for now, he needs their hands. You know how it goes, Professor. Lots of kids don’t go to school. It’s not that unusual.”

Michael stood slowly, reaching into his pocket for a few coins and handing them to the barber. “No. No, I’m afraid it isn’t. Thanks for the shave.”

He nodded at the barber as he pulled the door open, stepped out into the crisp morning air and felt the cool breeze on his newly shaven face. He peered to his left and took a step toward the restaurant, wondering if it was open. He stopped, shaking his head. The Widow Samson had said that not all students were expected at school. He headed toward the schoolhouse, his first day on his new job, but turned back at the end of the street, wishing that Sammy and his brother would be joining him.