Beulah's Brains: A McClain Story (The Alphabet Mail-Order Brides Book 2)

by Kirsten Osbourne

  The roster she’d been given held eighteen names. She’d never had more than five or six students in a class, because she was teaching upper level sciences. This was going to be so much more than anything she’d ever dreamed of.

  Once her name was on the board, she dusted the chalk dust off her fingers and took the broom from the corner of the schoolroom. There was a bit of sawdust still there on the floor, and she wanted the school to look perfect when the children arrived. Most of her pupils had never stepped foot in a schoolroom, so it would be a new experience for all of them—and one she wanted to be just perfect. She would instill a lifelong love of learning in her pupils.

  Once she had finished sweeping, she sat down and looked at her reader, wondering how many of the children would come to her with the ability to read. Not that it mattered, because she would teach each of them from wherever they started. No longer would she only have the students who were interested in learning about the sciences. Instead, she would have every student, whether they were interested in learning or not.

  By eight thirty, she could hear the children out on the playground. She glanced out the window and saw that they’d lined their lunch pails neatly in a row. She smiled, knowing their mothers must have coached them. Then she began to wonder how many of their mothers had gone to school.

  She stood up and sighed. She was about to learn everything there was to know about all the children and their educations or lack thereof. Why was she wasting her time worrying about it now?

  At precisely nine, she rang the school bell and stood aside as her pupils filed into the classroom. One little girl with blond braids smiled at her nervously, and Beulah smiled back. Another student whispered, “Good morning, Aunt Beulah.” She just wished she could remember which of Jack’s brothers that little girl belonged to. Not that it mattered. She’d figure them all out within the week.

  “Younger students in the front please,” Beulah instructed, her voice patient and kind. She knew because she’d been practicing her patient and kind voice for weeks.

  As soon as everyone was seated, Beulah pulled out a small chart she’d made with a drawing of the classroom. She sat behind her desk with the chart in front of her and her roster of students. She called them all by name, in alphabetical order, of course. She started with Jonathan Abrams and ended with Josiah Wendt. As each pupil responded to her roll call, she jotted their name down in the box for their seat. When she was finished, she stood up, prepared to give them the rules of her classroom.

  “I’m Mrs. McClain, and I’ll be your teacher. I would like to start out by explaining a few small rules and getting to know all of you better.” She sat on the edge of her desk, a smile on her face as she explained how everything would be. “I will spend the morning ascertaining exactly where you are in your studies. Have any of you attended a school before?”

  Only three hands went up, and Beulah nodded, making a mark next to each of the children’s names that they had attended school. “How many of you have been taught to read?”

  Four more hands went up. Beulah had her work cut out for her. “How many of you can recite the alphabet and know what your letters look like?”

  She progressed through her series of questions that would help her understand what each child knew. At precisely ten thirty, she finished making notes for that time. “You may be excused for a fifteen-minute recess. Please be certain to play nicely with one another, and if anyone needs something, come to me, and I will answer your questions.”

  As they filed out, she sat down at her desk and buried her face in her hands. She had exactly eleven students who didn’t know how to read. Most of them could count to ten. There was one older girl, who must have been at least fifteen, who was unable to read. Her work was cut out for her, but now that she knew where the students were in their studies, she was able to make her lesson plans and get started.

  That first day there was little mischief in the classroom. One boy had to be sent to stand in the corner when he pulled the braid of one of the little girls, but mischief like that was to be expected. Beulah wasn’t upset by it one whit.

  By the end of the day, she had a fairly good idea which students were going to be her fast learners and which students were going to need some more help with their studies.

  Several of the mothers were there to pick up their younger children at the close of school, and Beulah smiled at them and answered any questions. One mother in particular seemed like she was destined to be a thorn in Beulah’s side. “Josiah is brilliant. Can you give him more complicated schoolwork than the others, so he can reach his potential?”

  Beulah smiled sweetly, trying to find the best way to phrase her statement. “Josiah is thirteen and can’t read or count to ten yet, Mrs. Wendt. I will be working with him the same as the others, and if some day he seems advanced, I will be sure to give him more difficult schoolwork to help him be the best he can possibly be.”

  Mrs. Wendt frowned. “He can count to ten!”

  “He can? I would love to see a demonstration then.” Beulah had spent time just teaching counting that day to the lowest group of learners, which Josiah was definitely a part of. He could have learned that day, but Beulah had a feeling he hadn’t. He hadn’t seemed to notice or care that he was in a schoolhouse or supposed to be learning.

  “Josiah!” Mrs. Wendt called. She gave Beulah a scathing look. “I don’t know why he’s not performing his best for you, Mrs. McClain. Perhaps you’re not the teacher I’ve heard you are.”

  “Perhaps,” Beulah said, carefully keeping her smile in place.

  When Josiah joined them, he had his finger up his nose and carefully wiped his findings on his shirt. “Yes, Ma?”

  “Would you please count to ten for Mrs. McClain?”

  Josiah’s eyes widened, and he looked like a squirrel cornered by a wolf. “One, two, three, six, seven, eight, ten.”

  “Very good, Josiah,” Mrs. Wendt said, a proud look on her face.

  “Josiah, you missed four, five, and nine again. I would like you to practice those numbers when you get home. Remember how you copied them from the blackboard earlier?” Beulah had never taught a child who seemed quite as slow witted as Josiah, but she was determined she could teach him from wherever he was starting. Progress was progress after all.

  Mrs. Wendt narrowed her eyes at Beulah. “How dare you tell my son he’s wrong?”

  “Part of learning is being corrected, Mrs. Wendt. I will do my best to always correct with a smile and a fair attitude, but I cannot tell your child he’s right about something when he’s very obviously wrong.”

  “Well, I never!” Mrs. Wendt took Josiah by the arm and led him away from the schoolyard.

  “Maybe you should have then,” Beulah mumbled under her breath. Thankfully Josiah was the last child to leave that day, so she returned to the classroom and swept the floor, wiping off the chalkboard. She would assign two boys to clap the erasers during the lunch hour the following day.

  As she gathered up her books to carry them home, she was absolutely exhausted. She felt as if she’d been through the wringer, but the day had been a good one. There was little mischief. If only the students were anywhere near where they should have been academically.

  There was only one pupil, Margaret, who was anywhere close to where she should be, and she was about a year behind. Beulah took that as a win. Margaret was sweet and very helpful to the other children, and she told Beulah that her mother had been teaching her at home whenever there was time. She was twelve, and Beulah could tell she would be an asset to the school. She was one of Jack’s nieces, but Beulah had no idea which one.

  On her walk home, Beulah wished it was cooler. She missed the cooler New York summer and wished she had a way to spend a little time in an ice house. Knowing there would be little or no snow that winter didn’t help. She’d always been one to look forward to autumn and winter for the cooler temperatures.

  When she got home, she walked into the kitchen and found Mrs. Bucha
nan there, cooking supper. “That smells wonderful,” Beulah said with a smile. “I had no idea how very hungry I was until I walked into the house.”

  Mrs. Buchanan smiled at her. “How was your first day of school?”

  “Tiring,” Beulah said honestly. “I have my work cut out for me. So many of the children have never been to school before that it’s hard to even know where to start. I guess the beginning is my only answer.”

  “I could have told you they wouldn’t have much book learning, but I bet the boys are good with farm chores, and the girls can cook and clean with the best of them.”

  “I’m certain you’re right, Mrs. Buchanan. I would like them to learn their lessons as well, though, so they can grow to become well-rounded adults. So much depends on their ability to learn. Why, what if one of the boys wants to be a doctor, but because he doesn’t start learning until he’s ten, he spends the rest of his life behind?”

  “I have a feeling that none of those boys are going to want to grow up to be doctors. They’ll all want to be farmers and ranchers like their fathers.” Mrs. Buchanan cut off a piece of bread from a loaf that had just come out of the oven and buttered it. She put it on a plate and poured a glass of milk. “Teachers have to keep their strength up, too.”

  Beulah sat down and took a big bite of the bread, chewing it slowly. “Thank you. I needed that more than I realized.”

  “I’ll make sure there’s always a little something for you to eat when you get home from school. You look very tired.”

  “I feel tired. I don’t think I’ve ever been this tired.”

  Chapter Six

  When Jack got home from work that afternoon, he found Beulah at the dining room table, meticulously writing something in a notebook. “What’s so fascinating?” he asked, leaning down to kiss the top of her head.

  “I’m trying to find the best lesson plans for the students. Do you realize that less than half of them can read? Some of them can’t even count to ten.” She shook her head. “I’m in over my head, and today was the first day of school!” She hadn’t realized quite how overwhelmed she felt until he was standing there in front of her.

  He sat down and took her hand in his. “Is it really that bad?”

  “Only if I want the children to be where they need to be.” She rubbed the back of her neck, feeling a tear pop into her eye. “Never have I been so tired after the first day of school. I just wanted to crawl under my desk and hide from all of them today.”

  “And you didn’t? I think that could have been a fun game. ‘Find the teacher!’ I can just see the parents’ faces when they found out what you played with their precious darlings.”

  She smiled at that. “It could have been fun. I could have made them read words as they approached me. And they would have had to take a step back if they got them wrong.”

  “Yes! You should try that tomorrow.”

  She laughed softly. “I’m not so sure about that. Mrs. Wendt already thinks I’m a terrible teacher because I told her that her precious Josiah doesn’t know how to count to ten. When she called him over to prove that he can, he missed three numbers, and then she was angry with me for not telling him he did well instead of correcting him. How am I supposed to teach if I’m not allowed to tell the children when they’re doing something incorrectly?”

  “Don’t worry about Mrs. Wendt. She couldn’t spell cat if you spotted her the c and the a. And Josiah is her only child, and she believes he can do no wrong and is perfect in every way. He was caught stealing something from the mercantile, and she yelled at the shop owner for putting the candy where he could reach it. Nothing could ever be Josiah’s fault.”

  Beulah shook her head. “Well at least now I know what I’m up against.”

  “And what are you up against?” Jack asked, a half-grin on his face.

  “Utter idiocy where Mrs. Wendt is concerned, obviously.” Beulah looked down at the notes she’d written. “I have another hour or two worth of work to do, but it can wait until after supper. I know Mrs. Buchanan has it ready if you’re hungry.”

  He nodded. “I really am. Are you going to spend all evening every night working on schoolwork?”

  “I hope not. Part of the reason I’m getting up so early is so that I can get as much done as possible. Hopefully it will be enough.” She hid a yawn behind her hand. “I’ll move my books off the table if you want to tell Mrs. Buchanan we’re ready for supper.”

  “Why don’t we just eat at the other end of the table so you don’t have to clear your books away and bring them back?” Jack hated to see her working so hard, but hopefully it really would only be the first few days of school that it would be this difficult. “I have some paperwork I can do this evening, and we can just sit here and work together.” He couldn’t believe how much he liked the idea of sitting in peaceful silence with her, both of them working on something.

  “I’d like that.” She smiled at him, getting to her feet and stretching to one side, trying to get the kinks out of her back. “I’ll tell Mrs. Buchanan we’re ready for supper while you wash up.”

  As soon as supper was over, she buried her face in her book again, and Jack watched, wishing she had just a bit more time for him. He did understand, though. From the day she’d arrived, she’d made it very clear to him that teaching had to be her top priority.

  He went to get his ledger sheets and sat down, working hard to pay attention to his expenses and payments. Most ranchers he knew hired someone to take care of the paperwork, but he truly enjoyed doing it. Perhaps it would give him something to do on the long winter nights while his wife was otherwise occupied.

  Beulah’s goal at school that second day was to divide the children into their classes and give them their first assignments. There were classes with fourteen-year-olds and seven-year-olds. It was going to be a mixed-up mess of students for a while as the younger students learned as quickly as the older ones.

  Her afternoon was devoted to teaching her youngest class how to recite the alphabet and recognize each letter. She knew she wanted them all to be able to at least write their names by the end of the week. Perhaps she was aiming too high, but she liked to say that it was best to shoot for the stars, lest you would not reach the moon otherwise.

  Again Mrs. Wendt was waiting for Josiah at the end of the day, but this time she didn’t speak to Beulah. Instead, she put her arm around her son’s shoulders and turned her nose up at the teacher. Beulah was more than content with that treatment, because she really didn’t care what Mrs. Wendt thought of her. She wanted to teach the students, and if their parents didn’t care for her, it wouldn’t hurt her one iota.

  Her walk home that day was just as hot, but her thoughts were in different places. Already some of her lower students had learned to write their names. Some would learn faster than others, and she would make sure they were all where they needed to be as soon as they could be.

  She went straight to the kitchen when she got home, and true to her word, Mrs. Buchanan had a plate of bread and cheese made up for her. “Will that work for your snack, dear?”

  “This is perfect. Thank you so much.” Beulah took the snack into the dining room table and set up her work for the night again. Now that she had a better idea of where the children were and what they needed to learn, she felt like her preparations should go faster. In a week or two, she may be able to get them all done in the morning before school or during recess. She hoped so anyway.

  When Jack got home that evening, he saw her working and didn’t bother to stop to talk. They had their supper, and then she sat with her books open in front of her. He chose a book of his own to read and sat near her. He was looking forward to Saturday, when she wouldn’t be working all day.

  By the end of September, Beulah was exhausted. She was so worn out, she managed to get sick, and she climbed from her bed early on the first Saturday of October and hurried from the room, determined not to lose what little was in her stomach in front of her husband.

  Mr
s. Buchanan took one look at her and shook her head. “I don’t know how much longer you’re going to be able to keep teaching in your condition, Mrs. McClain.”

  Beulah frowned at the housekeeper. “My condition?”

  “Surely you realize you’re expecting. You have all the signs.”

  Beulah thought back to the last day of her cycle, and she realized Mrs. Buchanan was right. She hadn’t had a cycle since she first got to Texas, and she was always regular. She sat down heavily in a chair, burying her face in her hands. How was she going to be able to work with as sick to her stomach as she was?

  The two women sat and talked for a while, deciding that Beulah would keep some crackers at her bedside. If she ate one as soon as she woke, she might be able to stave off the morning sickness.

  When Jack came down the stairs an hour later, his hair still ruffled from sleep, he looked at Beulah, a frown on his face. “You look too pale. What’s wrong?”

  For a moment—just a split second—she considered telling him that she was fine, but she knew he’d know better. The man made her crazy. Not even a little white lie could get past him. “I think I’m expecting,” she said softly.

  Jack stared at her with surprise for a moment, and then his face split into a grin. “Really? Already?” He walked to her and pulled her to his feet and into his arms. “I can’t wait!”

  She sighed. “I’m sure.”

  He pulled away, looking into her face. “Are you not happy about the baby?”

  “I am . . . I think. I mean, I want children, but I would have preferred to be settled in school and know what I was doing first. It would have been nice if it would have taken me a year or two to get pregnant.”

  He sat down at the table, feeling unreasonably rejected. “I thought I told you that babies come fast for the McClains.”

  She shrugged. “You did. But you also told me that I was only going to have sons, and I’m holding out hope for a daughter as well.” She glanced over her shoulder as Mrs. Buchanan disappeared into the kitchen.