Anthology - BIG SKY GROOMS

by DAVIDSON, Carolyn. MALLERY, Susan. WILLIAMS, Bronwyn (in) Montana Mavericks

  “There wasn’t money put aside for such things, ma’am,” Mr. Carlton said stiffly. “The students have always gotten along just fine with chalkboards. Paper tablets are expensive, and children are known to waste the paper frivolously.”

  Kate’s brow lifted as she faced the man. “Indeed? In the school I taught in back in Ohio, each child was furnished with a tablet, and I sent home their work for the parents’ approval daily.” She sniffed delicately and located her hankie, brushing it against the tip of her nose. “Of course, I understand that on the frontier, folks probably don’t set such store by book learning.”

  “I’d say our children deserve as good as the kids in Ohio have,” said a woman close at hand.

  Tess Dillard stepped forward. “I’d say so, too,” she said with just the right degree of force to bring her husband’s head swiveling in her direction.

  “Now, Tess…” he began, and then as his wife’s eyes narrowed warningly, he subsided. “You may have a point there,” he conceded. “I think we may need to allot a small amount for Miss Elliott to order what she needs. We can have it shipped by rail and sent from Butte on the stagecoach.”

  “Thank you,” Kate said. No longer willing to hold her temper in check, she stalked away, nodding and smiling with gritted teeth as she sailed past the parishioners filling the churchyard. The nerve. The very nerve of those pompous idiots. Her feet scuffed dust as she made her way down the middle of the road, her eyes set upon the unpainted schoolhouse at the far end of town.

  THE EARLY-MORNING CHILL forced Kate to don a shawl over her dress as she left her room to walk around the building. Why those men couldn’t have been foresighted enough to add a door between the schoolroom and the teacher’s living quarters was another question she planned on asking.

  Three children stood on the front stoop, two girls and a boy, obviously members of the same family, if she was any judge. With golden hair and the same rounded features, they looked like stairsteps, the girls with starched pinafores and the boy with a shirt that had come untucked and a hat he wore cocked to one side.

  “Welcome to school,” Kate said, opening the door and allowing the three to walk in ahead of her. She made her way to her desk and sat down, opening her record book, a new one she’d purchased just before leaving Sedgefield, Ohio. She looked at the trio and smiled. “Do you want to give me your names and ages, please? And tell me what grade you were in last year, will you?”

  She repeated the same litany several times over the next thirty minutes. Apparently the townsfolk observed an eight-thirty school opening, for by a quarter to nine, she was faced with a roomful of students, three of whom sat on the floor against the wall.

  “We don’t have enough desks, I see,” she told them. “For today, I’ll ask you three—” she motioned to the boys who slouched in the back of the room “—to go to my quarters and bring back the two chairs you’ll find there, and also the small stool you’ll find near the stove.”

  The three boys looked at each other and then shrugged, rising to do as they were bidden. Kate opened a book on her desk and began.

  An assortment of three-pound lard pails and homemade lunch sacks held food for the midday break. Kate dismissed her students at eleven-thirty, watching from her desk as they fled the room and, bursting with typical childlike enthusiasm, flooded the schoolyard. Her own noon meal awaited her and she followed the children out the door. She walked around the side of the building and opened the door to her room.

  Inside, she lifted cold hands to her warm cheeks and leaned against the door. It had been an ordeal, one she’d faced before, but always dreaded. The first day of school drew the lines, and she could only hope that the order she’d been able to maintain would hold firm for the rest of the day. She opened a tin of crackers and sliced cheese from a half-round she’d purchased at the Mercantile. Wrapping them in a towel, she retraced her steps and found a seat on the front stoop of the schoolhouse.

  One of the towheaded girls approached and watched as Kate lifted a cracker to her lips. “Would you like to sit with me?” she asked. What was the child’s name? Beth? Or maybe Alice. “Beth?” she ventured, and was rewarded by a smile that revealed a missing tooth.

  “When did you lose your tooth?” Kate asked, biting into the cheese.

  “Last week,” Beth answered shyly.

  “Have you eaten?” Kate asked, and the child nodded reluctantly. “Would you like to share my crackers and cheese?”

  Beth eyed the offering with eagerness and Kate spread the towel over her knees. “I’m not very hungry anyway,” she lied.

  “Why don’t I believe you?” From the side of the building, James’s voice was low and amused. Kate’s head turned quickly and he grinned at her. Leaning against the wall, he slouched just a bit, his hat cocked at an angle, his eyes glittering. And on his chest, pinned to the flap of his shirt pocket, was a shiny, silver star.

  “Do I call you Sheriff Kincaid?” she asked, and watched disbelievingly as a flush crept up his cheeks.

  “It wasn’t in my plan,” he said defensively.

  “So you said.” She was enjoying this immensely. He was due some sort of payment for making her look like an idiot on Saturday, with his monkeyshines in the Mercantile.

  “I knew you’d rub it in,” he told her. “How long are you going to smirk at me?”

  “I never smirk, sir,” she said primly. “I only enjoy a bit of revenge now and then.”

  “Miss Elliott.” Beth tugged at Kate’s sleeve. “Who’s that man? Is he the black sheep? My papa said they was gonna make the black sheep into a sheriff.” Beth scrutinized James with avid eyes. “He don’t look like a sheep to me, even if his clothes is black.”

  “Out of the mouths of babes,” he murmured, leveling himself from his indolent stance. His thumbs tucked into the gun belt he wore and he approached Kate with a swaggering pose. One she would warrant was assumed for her benefit. “Are things going well?” he asked, his eyes weary as he looked beyond her to the children who raced back and forth and tossed a ball in some sort of game.

  “You look tired,” she said quietly, ignoring his query, and watched as he shrugged.

  “Haven’t slept much the past couple of nights,” he said finally. He looked back at her. “I have this thirst, Miss Elliott.” His words halted and he frowned. “Not that I expect you to understand.”

  “Ah, but I do. Not from my own personal experience, you understand, but I’ve been privy to…” She hesitated and then spread her hands in a gesture of helplessness, as if she groped for words to express herself. She bent low to Beth. “Would you like to go to the pump and get me a drink, sweetheart?” she asked. And as the child nodded and ran off to do her bidding, Kate called after her. “Rinse the cup real well, will you?”

  Beth hastened away, her steps confident as she set off on a mission for her teacher. And Kate turned back to James. “Just know that I do understand, Sheriff. If I can help, I’ll…” I’ll what?

  “Maybe you could sit with me on your porch this evening, after dark when folks won’t be watching.” A suggestion of pleading colored his tone and she nodded, uncaring of the position in which she might be put. Memories of another time, another place, filled her mind as James turned and walked back toward town. Memories of a man who begged on bended knee for his wife to forgive him, and all in vain. Kate closed her eyes, and the vision of her father was there.

  James came after dark, and Kate watched him walk beneath the lone tree that graced the schoolyard. In its shadows he hesitated and she lifted her face, aware that he watched her. “You sure about this?” he asked quietly.

  She nodded, then reinforced the small affirmation with an invitation. “Come sit by me,” she said, moving to the edge of the stoop.

  They were silent for a while, watching the flickering lights in houses scattered on the edges of town, then looking outward, to where stars sprang from the black velvet sky. Hovering in the background was music that rose and fell in intensity from the o
pen doors of the saloon. She heard the rollicking piano and an occasional shout of laughter that carried in the still night air.

  And then in a moment of total silence, James turned to look at her. “I’m surprised you allowed me to visit, Kate. Folks may talk, you know.”

  “I’m trying hard to like you, Sheriff.” Her fingers folded upon themselves in her lap and he reached to touch the back of her hand.

  “I’m trying to make that happen,” he said simply. “I want you to like me.”

  And there would be little effort required on his part to make that happen, she realized. With his fingers warm against her skin, she spoke of the first day of school, relating small incidents that took her fancy. Her amusement brought a smile to his lips, and once, a chuckle that escaped. “I’ll bet you were a pistol in your early years,” she said after a moment’s silence.

  “Still am,” he agreed. “And I reckon that’s the about the most polite word for it. My family has a whole string of expressions they use to describe me.” He looked up at the stars and then grunted. “All but Will.”

  “I’d think the position of sheriff ought to elevate you a little in your family’s opinion,” she said. “Some folks must think you’re a worthy person or they wouldn’t have pinned that badge on your chest.”

  “To tell the truth,” he drawled, “there isn’t a whole lot of crime in Whitehorn. Probably just about enough to keep my gun well-oiled once in a while.”

  “You don’t have bank robbers to contend with every day?” she asked with a smile. And then she watched as his mouth thinned beneath the dark moustache and he turned his head aside. “I didn’t mean to remind you of that.”

  “That wasn’t the first time I’ve shot a man,” he growled. “Probably won’t be the last.”

  “Still, it’s not something to speak lightly of.”

  His fingers trailed warmth against her hand, and then he squeezed gently before he rose to stand before her. “I don’t think it’s something to take lightly,” he returned. “Killing another human being is an act that stains a man’s soul. Even when the job calls for it. In this case, it seemed like the thing to do, rather than have innocent folks at risk.”

  “Will didn’t appear to cast any blame your way. Are there others who would hold such a thing against you? Or would find you less than honorable?” she asked, wondering how anyone could resist the man. She certainly hadn’t had much success at it.

  “Caleb, for one,” he told her. “Owns a ranch, kinda northwest of town. His wife, Ruth, is a native. Cheyenne, I think.”

  “You’re not on good terms with him, then?”

  His shrug was eloquent. “You don’t need to hear my sad tale.” His smile was jaunty as he grinned at her. “Tell me about yourself, Kate.”

  So she did.

  “WELL, HOW ARE YOU liking your new position?” Tess leaned both hands on the counter and bent toward Kate. “You’ve been rasslin’ with those young’uns for two weeks, Miss Elliott. Are you ready to throw in the towel yet?”

  Kate laughed aloud. “Of course not. Once I managed to get desks enough to go around, and learned everyone’s name, things fell right into line.”

  “Are those big boys givin’ you a hard time?” Tess asked. “They probably won’t be there every day when the threshing machines come by. They’ll need to be helpin’ out at home. Most of them just like to pester the teacher anyway.”

  “They’re not giving me any trouble,” Kate said. “And I’ve wondered about that. I’ve heard tales of boys bigger than the teacher who cause problems.”

  Tess leaned closer. “I think the new sheriff gave them a talking to. I understand he nailed a couple of them who were all set to turn a sack full of mice loose in your room. Told them they’d answer to him if they pulled any pranks.” She smiled archly at Kate. “I do believe our new sheriff is fond of you, Miss Elliott.” Her eyes grew tender and Kate sensed once again the affection this woman shed on the town’s black sheep.

  “Contrary to what you may hear about him,” Tess said firmly, “I think James Kincaid has the makings of a fine man. He just needs a little polishin’ up, some gettin’ his life in order.”

  Kate thought of the evenings she’d spoken with James, sitting in the dark, yet in plain view should anyone pass by. Perhaps he was, in truth, getting his life in order. There’d been no recurrence of his small foray on her, that second day she’d spent in this town, when he’d kissed her and teased her unmercifully. It seemed that the sheriff was more in need of companionship than the foolishness with which he’d first besieged her.

  He came to her at eventide with perspiration on his brow, with circles under his eyes and with hands twitching as he sat next to her, or leaned against the tree next to her porch. Sitting, his long fingers gripped his knees at times as though he must hold the trembling at bay and she found herself talking endlessly as he listened with bowed head. Other times he paced, silent and impatient, as though demons drove him. And so they probably did, she thought.

  And in those evenings he came to know her, as well as anyone ever had. She’d told him her whole life story, she realized, a quiet, prosaic, perhaps dull description of a young woman whose greatest adventure was this, this vigil she shared with a man seeking peace. Yet, as if drawn to the quiet words she spoke, the small tales she related, he returned, silent and aching with a pain she understood.

  And then he would rise and walk from her, sometimes without warning, without a word of farewell. Other times he turned to her with a look she could not decipher, his eyes shadowed by the night, his words soft as he bid her good-night. And when she thought, after three evenings spent alone, that he might not come back, that he was over the worst of his struggle to remain sober, he returned.

  Leaning against the tree that shaded the schoolhouse, just outside her door, he’d spoken slowly, haltingly, thanking her for her kindness. And then gone, walking away with a steady gait, his hands deep in his pockets, his hat level atop his head.

  “Miss Elliott?” Tess called her name, and Kate was aware that it was not for the first time.

  “I’m sorry. I was lost in thought,” she said with a rueful smile. She looked down at the pile of articles she’d assembled on the counter. “I think this will be all for today,” she told Tess. She looked longingly at the stack of new dresses Tess had folded and sorted by size. Maybe another time, when she was brave enough to don a gown of green or blue perhaps. But not pink. And her mouth twisted in a smile as she recalled James’s words. Pink’s kinda girlie…you’re a woman.

  “I’ll just add this to your account,” Tess said. “You can pay it when you get your wages at the end of the month.”

  “Thank you,” Kate said, thankful for the tidy amount of cash she’d brought with her. Best that she hold on to it for now. A woman alone must always be prepared for any emergency.

  She stepped from the door of the Mercantile, into a clear, sunny day. The sky stretched overhead and she was stunned by its beauty. The mountains held an appeal she could barely resist, and not for the first time she wished she could travel in that direction, see close up what those towering, majestic peaks offered to the eye.

  But that would never do. A woman would not be allowed the freedom to take a trek such as that, not alone, not without proper escort.

  Or improper escort, she thought, her mind turning again to the joy inherent in such an adventure. She looked again to the southwest, then up at the sky, where the sun cast its rays in these last days of summer. Beyond town, the wheat fields lay beneath the sunshine with golden heads drooping, awaiting harvest.

  She felt a surge of joy. School was called off for two days so that the students could help with the threshing. She’d spent a pleasant hour with Lizzy, sitting on the front stoop of the school. Lizzy was happy with Will and Kate was drawn to the pretty, young bride.

  Perhaps she would take her up on her impetuous invitation to visit at the bank owner’s home. Pausing, Kate considered the idea, trying to recall the instructi
ons Lizzy had given for finding the house that was outside of town. If she had her druthers, she’d head for the mountains, even if only to see them from closer range. Perhaps another time.

  “You’re looking a bit pensive, Miss Elliott.” A voice she would have recognized in her sleep spoke with teasing words, and Kate spun on her heel. It was James and her heart skipped a beat as she greeted him.

  “I’m just wishing I could get in a buggy and ride to the edge of the mountains.” Her laugh was soft, and wistful. “I come from the flatlands of Ohio, you know. There’s something about those heights that seems to compel me.”

  She took a step forward, her chin lifting as she searched the highest peaks in the distance. “Something there tugs at me,” she whispered, and then blinked at sudden tears. “You’ll think I’m foolish.”

  “On the contrary,” he said. “I’d never think you foolish. And if you want to go to the mountains, there isn’t a reason in the world why you can’t.”

  She cocked her head and peered up at him. “You’re joshing me, aren’t you? I’d just about decided to go visit Lizzy.”

  He shook his head solemnly. “No, ma’am, I’m not. If it’ll make you happy to ride a bit in a buggy, I guess I can make it happen. I owe you, Kate Elliott.”

  “No, you don’t,” she said quickly. And then she took his measure. His eyes were clear, the circles smoothed out, only the fine lines at the corners remaining, and those a legacy of days spent in the sun. He stood tall, and straight, and the silver star shone with just a bit of pride, she thought.

  “How is the sheriff business going?” she asked, smiling, enjoying the sunshine, the revelation of healing in his features.

  “They’ve quit watching me, stopped holding their breaths every time I walk past the saloon,” he said, and a touch of pain dulled the brilliance of his eyes. “I just may make it, Kate. I may turn out to be a decent member of the Kincaid family yet.”