Peter’s heart raced. She wouldn’t have been hurt, of course; wolf spiders weren’t poisonous, but the sight of them was anything but pleasant. What set his heart at such a pace was his first sight of Anne Kirby.
He’d known when he’d taken the job working for Mr. Dixon he might cross paths with Professor Kirby’s niece. He just hadn’t expected it to happen so soon or in such a way. Normally he would have caught the spider and let it go, but the look of fright on her face compelled him to crush the thing.
And he certainly hadn’t expected her to be even more beautiful in person. Her small build, porcelain skin, and ginger-red hair made her look just like one of the china dolls he’d seen in the shops back in Pittsburgh.
Stop it, he told himself sharply. She wasn’t a toy for him to play with, but a person. He tried to reinforce that thought in his mind by remembering the fear in her brown doe eyes and how shaky her hand had been as he helped her to her feet. Peter shook his head. Thinking of her like that didn’t help either.
He wadded up his handkerchief and, not seeing a trash can handy, placed it in his pocket. He’d shake it out and wash it later. He finished his work, placed the tools Mr. Dixon had given him in their bag, and slipped out the door. He struggled to push thoughts of Miss Kirby from his mind as he made his way over the gravel walkway to the new botany building.
Setting his jaw, he tried to go over the list of things Mr. Dixon wanted him to check, but all he heard was her soft voice, thanking him, making it hard to concentrate. Why had he helped her to her feet? He still felt the gentle pressure of her fingers on his. Peter was so focused on his thoughts he bumped into someone as he walked.
“Hey, watch where you’re going!”
“Sorry,” he said. He began to move on when someone grabbed his arm. Frowning, Peter turned to see a dark-haired man a few years older than him. Another man stood beside him, thumbs in his suspenders.
“Who are you? What do you think you’re doing with that bag?”
His superior tone sparked Peter’s temper, but he managed to answer civilly. “I’m Peter Ward, the janitor’s assistant. Mr. Dixon gave me this bag this morning.”
“No, I know all the fellas Mike uses as assistants,” he said. “I’ve never seen you before.”
Peter noticed the man with the suspenders looked at him with a glimmer of recognition in his eyes and was instantly on his guard. Had he been sent by his uncle? He quickly decided to be on his way.
“Well, I’m new. Now if you two gentlemen will excuse me—”
The first man grabbed his arm. “Whoa! How about this guy? Us ‘two gentlemen’? Pretty fancy talk for a janitor.”
Suspenders gave him a hard look. “Mike said he was going to hire me for fall term. Why’d he hire you, fancy-pants?”
Peter narrowed his eyes, sorely tempted to give them the fight they sought, but held back. He needed this job and the anonymity it provided. Gently but firmly, he freed his arm. “I have to go. Mr. Dixon has things for me to do.”
Scowls crossed their faces, and Peter steeled himself for a fight just as Mike Dixon walked up.
“There you are, Pete. I’ve been looking for you.” He caught sight of the men. “Hello there, Frank. What are you and Harvey up to?”
“I brought Harvey by like you said.” Frank pointed to the man with the suspenders.
“What’s with this guy?” Harvey jabbed his finger toward Peter.
Peter worked his jaw but kept his mouth shut.
Mike sighed and stepped up to him. “I’m sorry, Harvey. Pete really needed a job. He’s been out of work for a while.”
“Then why doesn’t Mr. Cope know about him? We just saw him a few minutes ago, and he didn’t think you’d hired anyone yet.”
“He will. I’m going to tell the board at their next meeting.”
“You never did that before,” Frank said. “You always told them before you hired anyone.”
“There wasn’t time. This came up at the last minute.” Peter looked at him. Mike sounded like he’d hired him only yesterday. He’d been working a couple of weeks now.
Harvey glared at him. “I need a job, Mike.”
“I’m sorry, but I don’t have the funds for you.”
“Yes you do,” Frank said. “The university always gives you enough for two extra men fall term.”
“Well, not this year.”
Frank frowned and shook his head at Harvey. His face scrunched up like that of a sulky schoolboy, and Peter choked back a laugh. “You just don’t want to hire me do you?”
“To be honest, I can’t say I’ve ever heard good things about you,” Mike said. “I’m sorry.”
Both men glared at Mike for one long, tense moment. Peter hoped it wouldn’t come to blows but was ready to help if his boss needed him.
“Fine.” Harvey said finally. “Let’s go, Frank.” The two veered off the gravel path, stomping through the newly cut grass.
Mike shook his head. “Jack will need to rake that now,” he said, referring to the groundskeeper.
“Who’s Mr. Cope?” Peter asked.
“The secretary to the board of trustees,” he replied. “Don’t worry. I’ve worked here since ‘78. I’m sure they won’t mind me hiring someone without their approval. They’ve never refused anyone before, even someone like Harvey Pryce.” He pointed his thumb in the direction the men had gone. “Come on, let’s finish up in the botany building and get dinner.”
An hour or so later, Peter and Mike sat down to eat in Mike’s log cabin, which stood on university grounds. It had been there since before the university’s founding, and when the state bought up the land, the cabin had been deeded over to the institution. Mike said it hadn’t been used until the university offered it to him just a few years ago. He’d installed a potbellied stove, which Peter now stood over, frying up some ham for them both.
“You sure took to the cooking real quick,” Mike said as Peter slid meat onto his plate. “It’s kind of hard to believe you’d never done it before.”
“Well, not over a stove. I learned to cook a lot of things over an open fire.” Peter put another slab of ham in the cast-iron skillet.
“So you really were a tramp, huh?”
“Not by choice,” he replied with a half smile.
“If you don’t mind me asking, just where are you originally from?”
Peter looked at his boss a moment before answering, then laughed at himself for hesitating. Mike Dixon, a kind and simple man, was by no means stupid but hardly a Pinkerton agent working undercover. “Pittsburgh.”
Mike nodded. “Never been there; heard about it though. Those steel mills sure put out a lot of smoke, I hear.”
Peter bent to tend to the fire in the stove, hiding a small smile as he did so. “Yeah, they sure do.”
He carried the skillet to the table and slid his meat onto his plate then returned it to the stove. He sat down next to Mike. The older man worded a small prayer before they started on their meal.
“Did you get to the pipes in the Main Building?” Mike asked as they ate.
“Yes I did, Mr. Dixon.”
The man rolled his eyes. “Son, do me a favor. Please call me Mike. Even the students call me that.”
Peter smiled. “All right.”
It would be odd, though. Mr. Dixon—Mike—was several years older than he. Granddad may have given him free rein in most areas, but he’d insisted Peter respect his elders.
“Everything in the Main Building seemed fine,” he said.
“You checked the new library, too?” Peter nodded, and Mike smiled in approval. “Good. It won’t do for students to catch cold while they’re studying, not to mention those young ladies who work so hard keeping that place looking nice.” He shot Peter a grin. “Did you get a chance to meet them? They’re just about your age.”
“Ah—yes. Miss Long introduced herself. I didn’t get the other young lady’s name.” It was true. He’d been too busy cleaning up that spider.
“S
he’s Professor Kirby’s niece, I hear. They’re pretty girls, too.”
Peter smiled at the look the man gave him. “I’ve got too much to do right now to think about things like that.”
Mike’s eyebrows shot up. “Well that’s a surprise. But I suppose I understand. Never did decide to get married myself. A lot of fuss, women. Not that I don’t appreciate them. Just seems easier to be on your own, you know?”
“Yeah,” Peter said thoughtfully. All those days of chasing Pittsburgh’s eligible young ladies came back to him. He’d never been serious about any of them. For one reason or another, none of them seemed right—too tall, too short, too something. Or had that been just an excuse? He pushed the ham around on his plate with his fork. Not all of them had been like that. He could have fallen in love with at least one or two if he’d allowed himself. Well, those days were over now. He’d told the truth a moment ago. He was too busy to be thinking about courting someone. He didn’t intend to try ever again. But even as he made that vow, doe-like eyes and a sweet face filled his vision.
He sighed inwardly as he picked up his plate and took it over to the washtub. The whole reason he’d turned down the job with Professor Kirby was so he wouldn’t be tempted to return to his old habits. And he would have if he’d stayed. Look at the way he had behaved today, acting like some sort of knight-errant. He shouldn’t have allowed the professor to help him get this job with Mike, but after seeing how his refusal to work for him had disappointed the man, he hadn’t had the heart. Well, at least Anne Kirby worked in the library. The chances of him seeing her again were quite slim.
Peter helped Mike clean up the dinner plates and then settled down at the table with his Bible while his boss sat and whittled. Dr. Kirby had insisted Peter keep it when he left. At the time, he’d felt bad that he couldn’t pay him for the book, but at the moment he was glad. With Anne Kirby’s beauty running rampant in his head, he flipped back and forth through its pages, looking for a verse on self-control. As he still wasn’t familiar with it, he quickly came up empty.
Frustrated, he stopped. The pages fell open to the book of Psalms. As he idly skimmed them, the twenty-third caught his attention:
The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name’s sake.
He sat back, staring out the cabin’s narrow window. It was a heartening verse and gave him hope. The idea of the Lord leading him in his new life, looking out for pitfalls along the way, made him feel more at ease. Lord, lead me in the right path; show me where You want me to go, he prayed. I know with Your guidance I can throw away my past and begin again. He was a new creation now, and that meant he should desire a whole new life, one without horses or chasing young ladies.
Chapter 5
Anne entered her room with a frown creasing her lovely features. When she and Uncle Daniel returned to the house, he’d urged her to get ready quickly, as Dr. Townshend’s carriage was coming for them in less than an hour. But she hadn’t been able to resist slipping out to the barn to check on Scioto. To her consternation, while the horse seemed content enough, he was wild and shaggy looking, as if he hadn’t been near a brush and currycomb all day. And Ben was nowhere to be found.
Though not nearly as thorough as she would have liked, she quickly brushed him. What could Ben have been thinking? Scioto wasn’t a plow horse. Uncle Daniel intended to ride him every so often and use him to convey the two of them back and forth to church. He may be an older horse, but he was still a strong animal. Professor Townshend had even brought a couple of his mares up to the farm this summer to breed with him. Anne opened the door of her room and found Mrs. Werner waiting for her.
“There you are,” she exclaimed. “Dr. Kirby fetched me almost fifteen minutes ago to help you get dressed.” The housekeeper frowned and crinkled her nose. “You went out in the stable, didn’t you?”
“Oh no! I smell like horse, don’t I?” She unbuttoned her bodice. “Maybe it’s just my clothes.”
Happily that was the case, and soon she stood in front of her oval mirror in her best dress. It was dark green with three-quarter sleeves. Anne smiled, remembering Pa’s frown when she, Ma, and Millie had shown it to him. He hadn’t quite approved of the square neckline. But Ma had been careful to make sure it was more than proper. It was actually shallower than the one on the dress she and Millie had copied from Godey’s Lady’s Book. Tears pricked her eyes as she thought how hard they’d worked, making this just for her to wear for best. She fingered the ruffles at the end of her sleeve and resolved to take special care of it. It would be a reminder of them once she was far from Ohio. Mrs. Werner began to fuss with her hair, and Anne glanced at the clock on her bed table.
“I’m not sure there’s time, Mrs. Werner.”
“Now, now, I’m just going to re-pin a few of these ringlets. You fluff those curly bangs of yours.”
Anne did as she was told just as her uncle’s voice came from behind her door. “Anne, are you ready? Dr. Townshend’s carriage is here.”
She escaped from the housekeeper’s hands and rushed to the wardrobe to get her shoes. A small spider scrambled out as she did so, and she gasped then crushed it with one shoe.
“What is it, lass?” Mrs. Werner joined her by the wardrobe.
Anne stood with one hand across her chest, trying to still the quick leaps her heart was making. “Just a spider,” she murmured.
“A spider?” Mrs. Werner smiled. “I thought you’d seen worse than that.”
Anne’s face reddened slightly as she slipped on her shoes. Her fear of spiders was so silly. She’d grown up on a farm, for heaven’s sake. But she couldn’t remember a time when she hadn’t been afraid of them. A small one like that didn’t affect her badly, but if it was a large one like the wolf spider she encountered in the library, fear refused to allow her to move an inch. She shuddered to think where that spider might have crawled if the janitor’s assistant hadn’t killed it. Her heart quickened once more as she thought of the man’s green eyes and the gentle firmness of his fingers squeezing hers. He’d been so kind and gallant. Stop that. None of that for you, remember?
“Anne?” Her uncle’s voice came from the bottom of the stairs this time, and she quickly took her wrap and reticule from Mrs. Werner. She had every intention of explaining why she was late as her uncle hurried her out the door, when she saw a young man she didn’t recognize sitting in the carriage. She’d have to wait to talk to her uncle about Ben.
“Good evening, Patrick,” Uncle Daniel said as he helped Anne climb up. “I’m sorry we’re a little late.”
Anne settled into the rear seat and took in the young man who sat opposite her. He was handsome with blond hair and a mustache, and he wore a sack suit and bowler hat. Uncle Daniel settled in next to her. She looked at him expectantly.
“Ah yes, I forgot you two aren’t yet acquainted,” he said as the carriage lurched forward. “Mr. Howard, this is my niece, Miss Anne Kirby. Anne, Mr. Patrick Howard, one of Dr. Townshend’s students.”
“I’m pleased to meet you, Mr. Howard.”
He tipped his hat and shot her a charming smile. “The pleasure is mine, Miss Kirby. I hope you’ll enjoy yourself tonight. The rest of us are looking forward to meeting you.”
Curious, Anne glanced at her uncle.
“Oh yes,” he said. “I forgot to mention there would be a few upperclassmen there as well.” His eyebrows rose along with the right corner of his mouth.
Anne bit the inside of her lip. Uncle Daniel had led her to believe the other dinner guests were limited to the faculty and their wives. Clearly, Pa had gotten him to promise more than just limiting her time in the stable. Her eyes slid back to Mr. Howard, and taking a deep breath, she smiled politely. “Are you a farmer, Mr. Howard?”
“My family owns a dairy farm near Lodi. I hope to become a veterinary surgeon.”
“Mr. Howard
is a senior this year, Anne,” her uncle said. “He’ll be graduating at the top of his class.”
“Well, I hope to,” the young man replied humbly. “I understand your family lives in Ostrander, Miss Kirby.”
The three of them chatted the rest of the way to Professor Townshend’s home at the edge of the university’s grounds. As they pulled up, Anne looked at the cozy home with no small amount of trepidation. The evening would be difficult for her if the rest of the young men at the party were as nice as Patrick Howard. She thought coming to the university to work would be easier than this. She had only been here a week and she seemed to be surrounded by eligible men. If only she were an eligible young woman. As Mr. Howard helped her alight, he held the same hand the janitor’s assistant had grasped. The memory of his green eyes and gallant actions caused her to sigh.
“Are you all right, Miss Kirby?” Mr. Howard asked.
“Yes, of course.” She accepted the arm he offered.
At least there, she was safe. She couldn’t possibly see much of him in the future. Besides, he had to be much older than her, and married with about a dozen children. She couldn’t help but envy his wife. If he was half so gallant at home, she was a blessed woman.
It was an animated dinner. There were Dr. and Mrs. Townshend and their two daughters, Alice and Harriet; Professors Lazenby, Tuttle, and Orton, and their wives; and five male students, including Mr. Howard. It came as no small surprise when she found herself surrounded by them after dinner when the party retired to the parlor after they ate.
“So what do you think of The OSU?” one of them asked her. He had been introduced as George Smart, a philosophy major and editor-in-chief of The Lantern, the university paper.
“The OSU?” she asked with a smile.
“Surely your uncle told you we are The Ohio State University.”
“Yes, but I’m not sure why.”
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