The Rancher Inherits a Family

by Cheryl St. John

  “She has a stall back here.” He took the horse’s lead, and Marigold followed, her hand on the paint’s hip. He led the horse into the stall and closed the gate. “She has feed and water.” He turned to face Marigold. “Is there more to that poem?”

  A tiny line formed in her forehead as though she didn’t remember what he was talking about.

  “The one you were reciting for Bright Star.”

  “Oh, yes. “‘Yes, as my swift days near their goal, ’tis all that I implore through life and death, a chainless soul with courage to endure.’”

  Seth glanced at her. “That’s it?”

  “It’s one of Brontë’s short poems. Some are so long I don’t have them memorized.”

  Dewey met them, leading the gray into the barn. “I’ll put ’er up,” he said.

  “I’ll take the boys into the house and get them something to eat.” She turned to Seth. “You can join us for their story.”

  He nodded and watched her go. She was young and full of life. Obviously, she loved children. Marigold would change her mind. Someday she would want a husband and children of her own.

  * * *

  Marigold didn’t sleep well that night, knowing she would be on her own with the students the following day. At her school in Ohio there had been other teachers nearby whenever she’d needed advice. Emergencies were no concern because the school was in the middle of the city and help was a shout away.

  Not all of the children had spoken English well. The frustrated expressions of Ludivine and Jakob Willis, Helene, Arnold and Louis Stirling kept coming to mind. Beatrix was going to be there, she reminded herself. Thank God Beatrix was willing to offer her time. Marigold should have picked up a gift for her. Perhaps she had something that would be meaningful.

  She’d known she was coming to Kansas, of course, and this school was better equipped than she’d imagined, but she was solely responsible for the students’ education and safety. She assured herself she had Libby Thompson’s previous assessments and notes to help guide her. Still, sleep was elusive. Even Peony must have picked up on her unease. The cat meowed loudly enough that Marigold was concerned she’d disturb the boys or Evelyn, and then she jumped on and off the bed. Only when she finally settled down on Marigold’s shoulder was Marigold able to close her eyes.

  The school day got off to a rocky start, with miscommunications between herself and the German students. Thankfully, Beatrix arrived at nine, but time was lost in the translations. Marigold gave them their assignments, and Beatrix worked with them, though she occasionally stopped to tend to the baby she carried in a sling on her back.

  As helpless as Marigold felt with the German students, she felt more inadequate with August. He was the brightest child she’d ever known, immediately grasping each and every concept he encountered. At first she’d found his gift incredible and had been excited to teach him, but as realization sank in, her confidence waned. She was concerned she didn’t have enough to offer August, didn’t have the skill and wasn’t equipped to offer the advanced level of learning of which he was capable.

  She took extensive notes and made a list of possible topics and books. She would send telegrams to her former teacher friends in Ohio, to a professor friend, and see what recommendations they might have.

  Midmorning, a new student showed up, a tall broad-shouldered young man who didn’t appear happy to be there. He slumped into a desk at the back of the room. The few children who looked his way were met with glares.

  Surprised and unprepared, Marigold walked back to where he sat. “I’m Miss Brewster.”

  “Yeah.”

  “What’s your name?”

  “Michael Higgins. My ma made me come.”

  “Well, I’m glad you’ve joined us. Have you been here before?”

  “Coupla times. Didn’t like it then, neither.”

  “Did Mrs. Thompson assign you a primer? Our primers are on the back table.”

  “Don’t need one. Ain’t gonna read those dumb stories.”

  Marigold glanced at Beatrix. The woman lifted her eyebrows and shrugged. Marigold went to a shelf and got a slate and a piece of chalk for Michael.

  The boy sat with his arms folded across his chest the rest of the morning. When she gave the older students assignments, she included him, but he wrote nothing on his slate. At dinner break, he sat on a stump in the yard and ignored the other children.

  She carried out one of the lunches Leah had provided. “We always have extra lunches in case someone forgets. Mrs. Gardner brings them every day.”

  “Ain’t hungry.”

  “All right. Well, I’ll just leave it here in case you change your mind. You can take it home if you don’t want to eat it now.”

  She made her way back inside and peered out the window. With furtive glances at the other children, Michael had opened the wrapping and tasted a sandwich.

  “Is he eating it?” Beatrix had taken the baby out of the sling and laid him on a blanket near Marigold’s desk.

  “Seems to be.”

  Marigold took a seat and the two women ate their lunches. “What do you know about the Higgins family? I’m going to need to speak with someone about Michael.”

  “I don’t know everyone, and there are always so many new people,” Beatrix replied. “I’m sorry. I will ask Colton, though. He meets many people as the farrier.”

  “Don’t be sorry. You’re a big help with the Stirling and Willis children. Thank you for taking time to be here. It’s helpful to me to not be alone as well. I feel so inadequate.”

  “You are an excellent teacher, Miss Brewster. I am learning, too.”

  Marigold grinned. “Call me Marigold, and I imagine the only thing you’ve learned is how ineffective I’ve been today.”

  “That is not at all true.” She folded her brown paper. “You are, how do you say...wirksam? Your efforts have positive consequences.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Once the children return, I will help you with the next assignments, and then it will be time for me to leave.”

  “Thank you, Beatrix.”

  “Bitte.”

  Marigold had noted that across the boulevard from the schoolhouse someone had dug a well and planted a few hackberry and walnut trees. They were not yet tall, but provided a small amount of shade. She decided this was a good afternoon to venture out of the schoolhouse and read in the shade of those trees. She assigned older children to carry blankets she’d found on a shelf and others to bring a pail of water and a tin cup. The children spread the blankets and made themselves comfortable on the spring grass.

  “Imagine we’re sitting by a riverbank,” she told the children, “daydreaming, as is Alice, the character in this story we’re going to read.”

  “Is it Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland?” August asked.

  “Yes, it is. Will you take turns reading it aloud with me?”

  August agreed with an enthusiastic nod.

  Two of the younger children fell asleep as she and August took turns reading, and the remainder listened with rapt attention. Even when a wild turkey swooped low and strutted several feet away, the children’s attention remained on the story. The turkey lost interest, however, and flew off.

  August read until the end of chapter two, and Marigold announced it was time to go back to their desks and tidy up before the end of day. She woke the two sleeping children, folded the blankets and followed her students across the boulevard.

  “Will you be back tomorrow?” she asked Michael when the day was over.

  He shrugged. “Dunno.”

  No one was waiting for him outside, but many of the children walked home on their own. He took off at a lope down the street, and she watched until he was out of sight.

  That evening she asked Seth and Evelyn if they knew the Higgins family, but neither had heard of him.
If he returned, she would find out more about him.

  Michael didn’t return, but a few days later, Marigold discovered one of the primers missing. She suspected he’d taken it when no one was looking.

  One morning, when Leah brought lunches, she asked, “Have you heard the news?”

  Marigold paused in her preparations for class and turned to her new friend. “What news is that?”

  “Will Canfield has declared he will run for Congress instead of governor. We’re so proud. Our very own town founder and friend will be a senator. Isn’t that exciting?”

  “Indeed, it’s very exciting.”

  “I’ve known Will since we were in a schoolroom like this one. He and Daniel and I grew up together in Pennsylvania. He always had big plans and dreams. Daniel is so proud of his friend.”

  “But I thought you were one of the first to arrive on a bride train.”

  “I was, yes. I had been married previously, and then widowed. I was in a desperate situation when I answered one of the advertisements. And who should I see when I stepped off that train into the crowd, but both Will and Daniel? Daniel asked me to marry him soon after that. It took me a while to warm to the idea, and then to work through my past, but eventually I did.”

  “I’m happy for you, Leah.”

  “Thank you.” She closed the lid on the box holding the lunches. “Would this Saturday be a good time for you to come for dinner? I’ll invite a few others, so you can get to know more people.”

  “That sounds nice. You’re very kind.”

  She headed for the door. “It will be my pleasure.”

  “Before you leave, Leah, do you know a family by the name of Higgins?”

  “It doesn’t sound familiar. Why do you ask?”

  Marigold explained to her about Michael, who had come to school only one day.

  “I’ll ask Daniel. He may know something. Have a good day.”

  After Leah left, Marigold went to work on her music lesson preparation. Opening the lid on the pianoforte, she was pleasantly surprised by the sound and quality of the instrument. She shouldn’t have been, she reminded herself. The school had been generously equipped. She had time to draw five straight even lines for the staff on the blackboard and add a chart of music notes before the students arrived.

  “We’re going to begin with a music lesson today,” she told them once they were settled at their double desks.

  Garland, one of the older students, raised her hand. “Is Mrs. Johnson coming?”

  “No, I’m going to teach the class. Are you familiar with what notes are?”

  Thankfully Hannah had gone over notes with them. Marigold did a quick quiz and then asked, “Does anyone know who Stephen Foster was?”

  The students shook their heads.

  “He was a songwriter who died a few years ago. You may not know his name, but you’ve probably heard some of the songs he wrote. We’re going to sing a few of them. The first one is ‘Old Dog Tray.’” She took a seat at the instrument and played the opening measures.

  Ivy raised her hand.

  Marigold nodded to her. “Yes?”

  “My pa plays that song on his banjo.”

  “Do you know the words?”

  Ivy nodded.

  “Will you come up here beside me and help me sing?”

  Ivy joined her and they sang. “‘The morn of life is past, and evening comes at last. It brings me a dream of a once happy day, of merry forms I’ve seen upon the village green, sporting with my old dog Tray.’”

  A few others knew the words and the chorus was easy to learn. As they finished the song, Michael Higgins showed up and dropped into his seat in the back row. A few children turned to look, but Marigold didn’t draw attention to his late arrival. She had prayed for wisdom to know how to handle the boy and to teach him, so she was going to trust God to work it out today.

  As usual August finished all his work early that day and asked if he could help her with anything. “What would you like to do?” she asked. “Are there subjects you’d like to learn more about?”

  “I’d like to study maps,” he replied.

  She opened a long low cabinet and found an atlas. “How about this?”

  He reached for it, his eyes open wide with interest. “Thank you, Miss Brewster!”

  He was absorbed with the book the rest of the school day. After the children had gone home and Dewey arrived to pick up her and the boys, she asked if he minded taking her to one of the mercantiles.

  Dewey drove the wagon to Booker & Son and he and the boys waited while she went in. A bell rang over the door as she entered. The enormous building was on a double-wide lot and the interior was laid out in sections. The proprietor came from behind a wood-and-glass counter, his spectacles pushed up on his balding head. “G’day, miss. What can I help you find?”

  “I’d like to see your catalogs, please.”

  “We have everything from flour and salt to hardware and jewelry,” he said. “I might have what you need.”

  “Do you carry maps and atlases?”

  “No, miss. I’ll find the catalog you want.”

  Before he walked away, she said, “I didn’t ask if there was a library in town.”

  “No, but I’ve heard talk of building one.”

  He came back with a fat book and she carried it closer to the front windows so she could read the small print. When she’d found the maps and atlases she was looking for, she carried the catalog back and pointed out what she wanted. “I’d like one of each of these, please. How long will it take?”

  Order completed, she bought a small bag of licorice for the boys. “Do you have a customer by the name of Higgins?”

  “Don’t believe so, but I don’t know everyone by name.” He smiled at her. “Don’t know your name.”

  “I’m Marigold Brewster, the new schoolteacher.”

  “Pleasure to meet you. Abram Booker.”

  She returned to the wagon and shared the licorice with Dewey, Tate and Harper.

  That evening she wrote a letter to Violet. She had asked her sister’s husband for an address, and he’d given her one in Dahlonega, Georgia. After some study, she’d learned gold had been mined in that area for years, so that explained why her sister’s husband was there. He’d also been in Colorado and Montana, so who knew where he’d be taking Violet next? She prayed for her niece’s safety and that she’d be able to go to school. The memory of her misery and tears as her father carried her from the house kept her awake many nights.

  She got out her Bible and, with Peony purring in her lap, thumbed through to several of her favorite verses. In Deuteronomy, she found one in chapter thirty-one.

  Be strong and of a good courage, fear not, nor be afraid of them: for the Lord thy God, He it is that doth go with thee; He will not fail thee, nor forsake thee.

  She pondered the verse and prayed. “Lord, help Violet be of good courage and not to be afraid. Help her to remember and know that You are with her all the time.”

  Flipping through to the words of Isaiah, she read aloud. “‘So do not fear, for I am with you—do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you. I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.’

  “Thank You, Father God, for strengthening Violet and giving her peace and comfort. I ask Your best for her, in Jesus’s name.”

  Peony’s fur was soft under her fingers, the feline’s weight and gentle purring a comfort. Truth to tell, Marigold was comfortable in the Halloway home. Teaching was what she’d always wanted to do, and she certainly had enough challenges to keep things interesting. Missing Violet was completely natural and expected, so that could explain why she felt empty and lonely. She’d always believed her students were enough for her. She shared her love of learning with them and taught them so much. That was enough. She’d always believed teaching
was all the satisfaction she needed. So why was she so unsettled tonight?

  The house was dark and silent as she closed her Bible and put it away. In preparation for bed, she put the ribbon leash on Peony and carried her downstairs and out the front door. Marigold tugged her shawl around her shoulders and waited for the cat to explore the grass and dirt in the spot it had selected. Then she carried her back up the porch stairs.

  “Couldn’t sleep?”

  Startled, she turned toward the voice and saw Seth. “I didn’t realize you were still sleeping out here. I’m sorry to disturb you.”

  “I wasn’t sleeping.” The moonlight revealed his outline on one of the chairs. “Have a seat.”

  She seated herself, but Peony didn’t want to remain on her lap. The cat jumped down and rubbed its face against Seth’s pant leg.

  “Are things going well at school?” he asked.

  “I think so. There’s certainly no lack of materials. The children are bright. Everyone I’ve met has been helpful.”

  “You’ll get to know others at the Gardners’ gathering.”

  “You’ll be going?” she asked.

  “It’s hard to say no to Leah.”

  Marigold mulled over that statement. Leah intended to invite the females who had arrived, so she would likely ask unmarried men as well. Seth was young, unmarried, a ranch owner. And he certainly wasn’t hard on the eyes. No doubt there were women who would not be put off by the three children who had recently fallen into his care.

  She was thankful she was not dependent on a man to provide for her. There were no guarantees when it came to husbands or fathers. Seth’s own brother was one of those men who disappeared and left his family wondering where he was.

  “You know more about youngsters than I do,” Seth said. “I need to get some beds and furniture and get the boys settled. There are plenty of rooms upstairs, but maybe we should keep them together. What do you think?”

  She laid her head back a moment, deep in thought. Night was silent in Kansas, compared to the city, where she’d always lived. Then she looked toward Seth. “After what they’ve been through I’d suggest keeping them together until they’re older. Perhaps Tate might have his own bed, but Harper and Little John could share one.”