by Erica Vetsch
He rounded the coach just as Tyler opened the stage door, and Elias braced himself to greet an old crone. Instead, a slender gloved hand appeared, and a dainty gray buttoned boot, followed by yards of light blue skirts. A decorative—if impractical—hat emerged, and then she stood on the dusty street.
Elias sucked in a breath and held it. Surely this wasn’t the teacher? He peered over her shoulder, expecting another woman to be perched on the seat, but no one else occupied the coach. He looked back at the young lady.
She was perfection.
Miss Savannah Cox.
In copperplate. With loops. And whorls.
His breath escaped slowly as every thought of crabby spinsters scattered like buckshot. If his teachers had looked anything like her, he might’ve enjoyed school a bit more. Come to think of it, he might be tempted to enroll again.
If she was a day over twenty, he’d eat his spurs. Fair skin that surely felt like rose petals, full pink lips, and those eyes...blue as Big Stone Lake, and about as deep.
But her crowning glory...that hair. Elias had seen some yellow hair before—this was the land of the Scandinavian immigrant, after all—but yellow didn’t seem the right word to describe hers. Gold? Wheaten? Honey? Flaxen? They all fell short.
“Are you Mr. Parker?” She said it “Pah-kah” in a Southern drawl as slow and sweet as dripping sorghum syrup. Elias stepped forward, but halted when he realized she was speaking to his brother.
“I’m Tyler Parker, the school superintendent. Welcome to Snowflake, Miss Cox.” He swept his bowler off his head and smoothed his hair like a boy in Sunday school. “We’re so pleased to have you here.”
Elias tucked his thumbs into his gun belt and leaned against a porch post, aiming to strike an I-am-not-bowled-over-by-a-pretty-face posture, even though she’d knocked him for six. As he strove for some aplomb, his mind raced. He’d never seen anyone less suited to teach the Snowflake school. If Tyler had any sense at all, he’d thank her kindly, buy her a return ticket and send her on her way. The poor girl would perish here before the first snowfall.
If she lasted that long. She might turn out to be just like Britta, who had stayed just long enough to break Elias’s heart.
Miss Cox squinted up at the bold sunshine and turned to retrieve her belongings from the stage. She withdrew a parasol and snapped it open. Elias blinked. The parasol exactly matched her dress, must’ve been created just for her outfit. He’d never seen the like. Where did she think she was, New York City?
Poor Tyler. He’d picked a winner this time. She was pretty to look at, but about as practical as a silver spoon when you needed a snow shovel.
She stared at the buildings lining Main Street, at Tyler who rocked on his toes and rubbed his hands together again, then finally at Elias, sizing him up from his boots to his hatband. His thoughts must’ve been evident on his face, because even though he touched his hat brim and gave a nod, her chin went up and she seemed to freeze. Lips tight, she looked around once more, as if hoping for city streets and fancy houses to appear. She didn’t glance his way again.
Elias shook his head. What was she expecting? A royal welcome? Brass bands and banners? What had his brother saddled him with for the next nine months? She looked tighter wound than a reel of barbed wire.
“Please—” Tyler took her elbow “—come up here out of the sun. You must be tired after your long journey. This is my brother, Elias. He’s the town sheriff, but for today, he’s tasked with seeing you safely ensconced in your new dwellings. He’ll take care of the baggage.” Tyler ushered her onto the boardwalk, making clearing motions ahead of them though there was nobody around besides the stage driver. Treating her as if she were a fragile pasque flower. That might be fine for Tyler, but she’d get no such coddling from Elias. She’d chosen to come to western Minnesota, and she’d have to learn to stand on her own two feet out here. Or go back where she came from. They needed a teacher, all right, but not one like this.
“Hey, Sheriff.” Keenan hopped down from the high stagecoach seat and coiled his whip, threading it up his arm and onto his shoulder. “Good traveling weather, but we could use some rain.” He spit into the street under the horses’ bellies. “That’s some looker I brung ya, huh?” His version of a whisper rattled the windows of the stage office, and Miss Cox’s already straight spine stiffened. If she put that nose any higher in the air, she’d drown in a rainstorm.
“Just get up there and throw down her bag.” Elias adjusted his hat. “I’m supposed to be the teamster today, getting her where she needs to go.”
“Her bag? You mean bags. They’re in the boot.” Keenan swaggered toward the canvas and strapping covering the rear compartment and began setting valises and trunks and bags on the porch.
Four, five, six, seven. “All of these?” She had more baggage than an empress.
“And one inside the coach, too.” Keenan shook his head. “She put up quite a fuss about being careful with that one. Must have all her china in it or something. She brought near everything else she must own. Maybe she’s planning on staying in the territory. It could be she hopes to snag her a husband while she’s here and set up housekeeping. Way she looks, I reckon they’ll be lining up. Won’t matter if she can’t cook a lick nor sew nor garden. A fellow might marry her just to have something that pretty to look at every day.”
Wonderful. This just kept getting better and better. Maybe she had come out here hoping for a husband. There were more men than women in western Minnesota, and a woman of marrying age got snapped up pretty quickly. Pity the poor sap who wound up with her, though. A man needed a helpmeet out here, a woman who could tend the house and garden and children, and help in the barn and fields if the need arose. Miss Cox hardly looked the type to pick up a pitchfork or hoe a row of potatoes. More likely to know how to pour tea and do needlepoint.
Elias gathered several of the bags and brought them to the steps. He staggered, just to get his point across to Tyler. Who needed all this stuff?
“Ah, good. You can load Miss Cox’s things in the buckboard.” Tyler slanted Elias a “behave yourself” older-brother glance, forbidding him any comment on the exotic import standing in the shade of the porch. “I will check in with you as often as I am able, Miss Cox, but Elias will make himself available to assist you in any way he can, should the need arise.”
“Sheriff Parker.” She held out her gloved hand, and Elias let her bags thump to the porch before taking her fingers for a brief clasp. “I’ll try not to be too much trouble, I’m sure.”
Ahm shu-wah.
Elias swallowed, steeling himself not to be swayed from his position by nice manners. He’d been down that road, much to his regret, and he had no desire to repeat his folly.
She turned to Tyler. “Mr. Parker, is this all there is of the town?” She looked both directions along Main Street. Actually, it was the only street. Twenty or so buildings, none of them grand, lined the thoroughfare.
Tyler cleared his throat. “Um, yes, for the time being. But we’re always growing. Snowflake is mostly a farming community, but we’re hoping to draw more commerce to town. Having a good quality school will go a long way in enticing family-owned businesses to our little settlement.”
“I see.” Her faintly bewildered tone said she didn’t see at all. She’d probably never lived anywhere with fewer than a thousand people within shouting distance.
“The buckboard’s over here.” Tyler ushered her up the street. “We’ll have you at your lodgings soon.”
Together, they walked toward the buckboard, and Elias, left with the baggage, forced himself not to stare at the graceful sway of her walk and the way her dress trailed and draped in layers and ruffles. He’d never seen a getup quite like that. She looked as if she should be at some garden club or tea party...not that he had any notion what women wore to tea parties, but her outfit had to be mo
re suited to a social engagement than to traveling across the prairie.
“And which building is the school?” She had to look up at his brother, who wasn’t all that tall. Elias had a feeling he’d dwarf her, since he was half a head taller than Tyler.
“Oh, the school is north of town a ways. They built it there because that’s where the greatest concentration of children is. We’re almost up to a dozen students now.” Tyler smiled and held out his hand to help her into the buckboard. “I do apologize that I am unable to make the rest of the trip with you. I’m heading east on the stage for some meetings in the capitol. I’ll return as soon as I can, but you’ll be in good hands with my brother.”
Elias stowed bags and boxes on the backseat and floorboards. Miss Cox sat in the front seat like a little plaster statue, eyes forward, hands throttling her parasol handle, rigid as a new fence. He was just about to climb aboard when a shout shattered the sultry afternoon air.
“Sheriff, don’t forget this one.” Keenan stomped over, grappling with the odd-shaped box he’d removed from inside the stage.
“Oh, my.” Miss Cox fluttered like a bird. “I can’t believe I forgot. I must be more tired than I thought.”
Elias scratched his head. Where was he supposed to fit that monstrosity? If he’d have known she was bringing enough stuff to supply an army, he’d have brought his pa’s farm wagon.
“Please, be careful. That’s fragile.”
He sighed and wedged the bulky parcel in so it wouldn’t jostle, then climbed aboard and gathered the reins. Looking over at the jailhouse porch, he whistled. Cap shot up and bounded across the street. Elias scooted over and patted the seat between himself and Miss Cox.
Captain needed no second command. He leaped aboard and planted his furry rump on the hard bench. His tongue lolled and dripped dog spit, and he gave Miss Cox a friendly sniff.
She recoiled, eyes wide. “Get back!” She shrank further, looking ready to bolt.
“Whoa, easy, ma’am. He won’t hurt you.” Elias cuffed Captain on the shoulder. “He’s gentle. You act like you’ve never been around a dog before.”
Swallowing, she righted her hat and sat more upright, pressing against the far armrest so hard he thought it might break. “I haven’t, especially not one so...big.”
Captain grinned, showing a lot of teeth, his heavy tail pounding Elias’s leg.
“Are you sure he won’t bite?” Her voice trembled, and a little arrow of guilt pierced Elias. Not enough to overcome his scorn at such irrational fear, of course.
“Unless you’re a bank robber, or a horse thief, or a stubborn sheep, he’ll keep his fangs to himself. Cap’s a first-rate sheepherder and police dog, aren’t you, boy?” The big collie tried to lick Elias’s face, and he laughed, shoving him back.
Tyler frowned, fussing with his tie as he stood by the buckboard. “Perhaps you should leave him here.”
“Nope. I told Pa I’d drop him off at the farm after I ran your errand for you.”
“But Miss Cox—”
“Miss Cox will be fine. She’ll have to get used to a lot worse than sharing a seat with a friendly dog if she’s going to survive out here.”
He chirruped to the sorrel mare, and the buckboard lurched, leaving Tyler behind. They soon reached the outskirts of town and headed north.
Miss Cox leaned forward to talk around Captain, who had his snoot in the air, sucking in the breeze created by their forward motion. “Where are we going? I thought we were heading to my lodgings.”
Elias frowned. Did she think he was taking her on a sightseeing tour of the county first? “This is the quickest way to the Halvorsons’.”
“The Halvorsons’?” Her parasol caught the breeze and jerked upward. She fought it down. “Is it always so windy here?”
“This isn’t windy.” She thought this was windy? “The Halvorsons are the folks you’re boarding with. Didn’t Tyler tell you?”
The dog leaned against her, and she pushed him away. “Boarding with a family? No, he didn’t mention that. I thought I’d have a room at a boardinghouse or hotel.”
“Got no boardinghouse nor hotel. Is that gonna be a problem? The stage hasn’t left yet if you want to go back.” He tried not to sound too hopeful.
Miss Cox pressed her lips together and shook her head. Even under the shade of her umbrella, her hair glowed in swoops and curls, all pinned up under a hat that had nothing to do with deflecting the elements. What she needed was a decent sunbonnet or wide-brimmed straw.
“How much farther is it?” She sounded tired, and Elias’s conscience bit him again. After all, she’d come a long way. It wasn’t her fault that she was unsuitable.
Or that she stirred up memories of Britta.
“Schoolhouse is two miles out of town on the north road. The Halvorson place is the closest farm to the school.”
“And how far apart are the house and the school?”
He shrugged. “If you take the road, it’s about a mile and a quarter around, but if you cut across the fields, it’s about half a mile, I guess.”
“A mile and a quarter. I suppose by buggy that won’t be too bad.”
Elias laughed. “Doubt anybody will fetch you in a buggy. Or a wagon, either. You’ll walk, same as the Halvorson kids. The students who live farther than a couple of miles will ride ponies. There’s a livestock shed and corral at the school.” He slapped the lines again, urging the mare into a faster trot. “There’s the schoolhouse. School starts on Monday, but I guess you know that.”
The clapboard building shone white in the sunshine, sporting a fresh coat of paint. Elias had been part of the work crew that had seen to the new paint job early last spring before planting time. The money for the new school building—a vast improvement on the old sod-and-log structure they’d had before—had come from a bequest, and Tyler had hoped it would be an enticement in hiring. So far, it had sat empty far more than it had been in use.
Just short of the school, Elias turned at the crossroads to head west. “The Halvorson place is over there. We’ll be there soon.”
“Could we stop at the school first? I’d like to see inside.”
She didn’t look particularly eager, but maybe she was just forestalling having to meet more strangers.
“Sure, if you want. Tyler gave me the key to give to you.” He turned the mare and headed toward the schoolhouse, wishing it was Tyler showing her around. It was his brother’s job, after all.
From the corner of his eye, he studied her again, frilly dress, lacy gloves, fancy shoes, remote touch-me-not expression. He’d give this “ice princess” a week before she hightailed it back to where she came from.
Chapter Two
The beastly dog leaned on Savannah again, and she gently elbowed him upright. Her dress would be covered in dog hair soon. His hot, moist breath puffed against her cheek, and his tongue lolled, dripping saliva.
But his brown eyes were friendly. Friendlier than his master’s. From the moment she’d stepped off the stage, she could feel the sheriff’s disapproval—which puzzled her. He didn’t even know her. Why should he take such an instant dislike?
The buckboard jerked to a halt in front of the tiny white building, and the sheriff jumped down, rocking the conveyance, forcing her to clutch the seat.
Thankfully, the dog followed him instead of breathing his doggy breath in her face anymore. “Thank you for stopping, Mr. Parker.”
“Call me Elias.”
Mr. Parker—Elias—sauntered around the horse to help her down. Savannah could feel him sizing her up...and to judge by the skeptical tilt to his brows, finding her wanting. She knew she wasn’t at her sparkling best, travel-worn and tossed into what felt like a foreign land. Her self-confidence had sunk to an all-time low ebb with Girard’s defection, and the sheriff was doing nothing to b
olster it. She felt strange and a bit weepy, which wasn’t like her at all before her broken engagement, but now seemed to be her constant state.
Elias, on the other hand, exuded confidence. Tall, muscular and in familiar surroundings. Dark hair, gray eyes and, when he bothered to smile, deep creases in his cheeks. He’d probably never suffered a setback in his entire life.
“The school’s been closed up since last Christmas, when the teacher left town.” Elias tromped up the steps and opened the door. The hinges let out a terrific squeal. “It’s going to need a good cleaning before Monday.”
Savannah furled her parasol and stepped past him into the building’s foyer. A beadboard wall greeted her, with doorways on either side that led into the classroom. A crock stood in the corner, and several shelves with hooks ran along the walls. To the right of the entry door hung a rope, held to the wall by large metal loops. It ran up through a hole in the ceiling.
“School bell. Don’t ring it now, or folks will come running, thinking there’s an emergency.” Elias tipped his hat back on his head and tucked his hands into his pockets. “Schoolroom’s through there.” He indicated the doorway with his chin.
Great blocks of light fell through the western windows onto the hardwood floor. Three rows of desks took up most of the space. Not patent metal and wood desks but rough-hewn benches and long, slant-top desks with a single shelf beneath, clearly locally made.
On a slight platform sat a teacher’s desk and chalkboard, and behind the last row of desks, a small iron stove. Portraits of Presidents Washington and Lincoln graced the spaces between the windows, and an American flag hung proudly in the corner.