Tracie Peterson, Tracey V. Bateman, Pamela Griffin, JoAnn A. Grote

by Prairie Christmas Collection

  “Hey! Turn me loose, old man! Wait ‘til I tell my pa.”

  Despite Andrew’s size, Mr. Carpenter had a good three inches of height on him. His strength seemed amazing as Andrew’s attempts to free himself failed. “You have a deplorable lack of manners, boy.” Keeping a firm grasp on Andrew’s collar, Mr. Carpenter turned to Kathleen. “What would you have me do with the lad, miss?”

  Kathleen blinked and fought to regain her voice. “I … in the corner, please.”

  “There are four of them; please specify.”

  Remembering the ridicule from Jonah the first day of school, she knew better than to stand Andrew in the corner behind her desk. She pointed to the back of the room. “Over there.”

  Mr. Carpenter nodded his filthy head, and Kathleen cringed at the layers of dirt encrusted on his neck. “Good choice,” he said.

  Laughter buzzed about the room as Myles walked Andrew on tiptoes to the corner. Kathleen looked about and shook her head for them to hush. They complied. Apparently no one wanted to be Mr. Carpenter’s next target.

  When he reached the corner of choice, Mr. Carpenter simply let Andrew go. “And stay there until your teacher says you may return to your seat. Is that clear?”

  Obviously startled into submission, Andrew nodded without turning around. But Mr. Carpenter wasn’t finished. “When school is dismissed, you will stay afterward and clean up the mess. It is disgraceful.”

  Perhaps his last comment was a bit like the pot calling the kettle black; still, Kathleen couldn’t help but be grateful to the gentleman.

  She expelled a pent-up breath, then wished she hadn’t as she was forced to breathe in at the same time Mr. Carpenter returned to confront her. Fighting to contain her nausea, she offered a wobbly smile.

  Her cheeks flooded with warmth at his look of utter contempt.

  “You must show them who is in charge or you are wasting their time.”

  Their time?

  Though he dwarfed her, she gathered herself to her full height, raised her chin, and looked him in the eye. “Thank you for your help, Mr. Carpenter. I’m sure I can take it from here.”

  His disparaging look told her more than she cared to know about his opinion of whether she could handle the situation. Nevertheless, he scowled and walked to the door, his shoulders squared. Such a show of dignity touched Kathleen’s heart.

  He turned when he reached the door. Though his face was caked with grime, his hazel eyes pierced her. “These children have precious few years to learn anything at all before their Neanderthal fathers stick them in the cornfields and squash the greater portion of all that wonderful knowledge from their heads. You must pack as much into their brains as possible, so that perchance they will retain what is most relevant.”

  He slipped through the door and was gone as quickly as he’d come.

  Dread gnawed Kathleen’s gut as she glanced toward the corner. At the very least, she expected Andrew to lean against the wall. But to her delight, he stayed put. Perhaps he was afraid Mr. Carpenter was watching from a window somewhere. Or perhaps the stench had rattled his brain. Whatever the case, after thirty minutes, she took pity and quietly suggested he return to his seat. He obeyed, sitting while the rest of the children took their turn at reciting their spelling words.

  It was ten minutes after three before Kathleen realized they were over the time for school to be let out. “School is dismissed,” she announced. In subdued silence, the children rose, gathered their belongings, and left in an orderly fashion.

  She leaned her elbows on her desk, closed her eyes, and rested her forehead in the heels of her hands. Taking a few deep breaths, she willed herself to relax. When the door opened again a minute later, she looked up and gasped. Andrew stood, hands stuffed into his pockets.

  She swallowed hard. Was he planning his revenge? Whatever the case, she couldn’t show her fear. “Did you forget something, Andrew?”

  “Yes.” He sauntered up the aisle. He hesitated then scowled. “That crazy ol’ Myles told me to clean the room after school.”

  She’d completely forgotten!

  “Thank you for coming back, Andrew. The place is quite a mess.”

  “Yeah.”

  “How about if we clean it up together?”

  He shrugged but remained silent as they spent the next fifteen minutes removing wads of paper, chalk, pencils, and even crusts of bread from the floor. “I think that about does it,” Kathleen announced. “Fine. I’m leavin’ then.”

  “All right. And Andrew?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You know we’re putting on a Christmas program the week before school gets out.”

  “What of it?”

  “I was hoping you’d consider playing Joseph.”

  Interest sparked in his eyes, and Kathleen proceeded before she lost her nerve.

  “Yes, Rebecca Dunn has already agreed to play Mary.” His face turned three shades of red. “Rebecca?”

  A bit of guilt nipped her insides like a troublesome pup. She’d caught Andrew staring at an oblivious Rebecca more than once. She figured he might have a chance if he’d simmer down.

  “Yes. I thought the two of you would make a handsome Mary and Joseph. What do you say?”

  He kicked at the floor with his boot and shrugged. “Ain’t got nothing better to do.”

  “I take it that’s a yes?”

  A sigh lifted his chest. “I guess.”

  “Wonderful. We start rehearsal Monday after school. Please tell your pa to come speak to me if he has any problems with you remaining after class.”

  “He ain’t gonna care.” He slipped through the door before Kathleen could press further.

  Kathleen stared at the closed door for a few seconds. After one last look at her tidy schoolroom, she adjourned to her quarters for another lonely evening.

  “Then he stayed in the corner until Miss Johnson told him he could sit down.”

  Josh listened to Flora’s recounting of her afternoon with a combination of concern and amusement.

  “And he didn’t order her from her classroom?” Ma asked, setting a platter of ham on the table.

  “No, ma’am. He didn’t seem all that crazy to me. Just stank real bad.”

  “Flora! Don’t be rude.”

  “Sorry, Ma. But he did. Bad.” She grinned at Josh. “Miss Johnson looked like she might faint. Everyone said so.”

  Ma cleared her throat, a clear sign that Josh was not to encourage the child.

  “Paul, perhaps we should speak to Frank about this. After all, he is the preacher. If anyone should talk to Myles, it should be him.”

  “How do you figure? Myles hasn’t darkened the doorstep of our church in longer than I can remember—not since Frank asked him to kindly take a bath.” He winked at Flora. “So that the ladies didn’t faint at the smell of him.”

  Flora giggled, and Ma frowned at them both.

  “I suppose you’re right about Frank. All the same, someone should talk to him about not interrupting Miss Johnson’s class. After all, the young woman is doing us a kindness by taking over at the last minute. How many more teachers are we going to let that man run off?”

  “Miss Johnson didn’t seem to mind him too much.” Joe spoke with a mouthful of potatoes.

  “Mercy, Joe,” Ma admonished. “Swallow first.”

  He swallowed hard, then washed down the bite with a gulp of milk. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, forked another bite, and held it in front of his mouth. “Miss Johnson was a lot nicer to him than the other teachers ever were.” He shoveled the bite inside.

  Josh listened to this news with tenderness. Her kindness was only one reason he was falling for Kathleen Johnson.

  Still, Ma didn’t seem convinced. “Well, the girl’s obviously been raised with better manners than some, but that doesn’t mean she’ll put up with constant interruptions, especially if he gets confused. Someone had better give him a good talking to before he runs her off like all the others.” Sh
e gave Pa a pointed look, but Josh judged from Pa’s scowl that he had no intention of butting into the situation.

  Her gaze shifted to Josh.

  He nodded. He only had a few weeks to prove to the girl of his dreams that he was the man for her, even if he did live fifty miles away from her family. There was no way he would let an outside influence like a crazy former schoolmaster send her running home even one day earlier than absolutely necessary.

  Chapter 7

  Kathleen shot straight up, unsure why she’d awakened so suddenly. Outside, the wind howled and shook the thin boards. The fire had died down, and the air inside the room bit through her, chilling her to the bone. She pulled the quilt up to her neck and shivered in an attempt to warm herself. Finally, she pushed the covers aside and tiptoed across the icy floor to the stove.

  Moments later, wood crackled as the glowing coals caught. Another gust of wind shook the little room.

  She shuddered. The clock on a shelf over the stove clearly showed four o’clock. Too early to get up. Yawning, she headed back to her bed.

  Thump, thump.

  Footsteps? Cold fear swept through Kathleen as the sound in the schoolroom came closer. She eyed the door that separated the two rooms and was suddenly aware of the absence of a lock. She spun around, searching for anything with which to defend herself. Hesitating only a second, she snatched up a large kitchen knife and inched toward the door.

  Crash!

  Kathleen jumped, her heart nearly beating from her chest. Clutching the knife firmly with both hands, she listened for more sounds. Anything that might mean someone was about to burst through her door. Numbness crept into her feet as she remained barefoot on the icy floor.

  Muscles knotted, stomach tight, she waited, and waited … and waited until, finally, the fire died again, and she was forced to hang on to the knife with one hand and add wood to the stove with the other. Muted light slowly expelled the darkness from the room, and when Kathleen dared to take her gaze from the door, she noted the clock read seven-thirty.

  The children would be arriving for school in less than an hour. How could she cower in her room and allow any one of them to step into a possibly dangerous situation?

  Lord, give me courage.

  Reaching out with trembling fingers, she grabbed the latch, gathered a deep breath, and flung open the door. A split second seemed like an eternity as she waited for her attacker to strike. When all remained calm, she took a cautious step across the doorway.

  A body lay atop the remains of one of the newly repaired desks. She couldn’t make out a face, but the stench was unmistakable. Her heart beat a rain dance within her chest as she approached. She grimaced at the thought of having to touch his filthy chest to ascertain whether or not he was breathing. He moaned, and she jumped back.

  Relief like a fresh summer breeze washed over her, and her wobbly legs refused to hold her another second. She made it to the last desk and sank into the seat, dropping the knife to the ground.

  The clatter woke her intruder.

  “What on earth is that racket?”

  Kathleen blinked as he sat up, brushing away the splintered wood. He was asking her about racket? “Well? Speak up!”

  “I–I dropped my knife.”

  “Why, pray tell, do you have a weapon inside the school? You are not fit to teach these children. I knew that from the first moment I saw you.”

  Tears pricked her eyes, and her throat clogged. What could she say? The man had a point.

  She stood, offering him her hand. Ignoring the gesture, he averted his gaze. “Miss, I must insist you go at once and do not return until you are properly attired.”

  With a gasp, Kathleen realized she was in her nightgown. No dressing gown or house shoes—she’d been too afraid to remember either.

  “Oh, my. I am so sorry. Of course. I’ll just go and get dressed.”

  Not until she had changed into her gown and hooked her boots did she realize the irony of Mr. Carpenter scolding her about her appearance. She grinned as she headed back into the schoolroom.

  Warmth met her from the fire Mr. Carpenter had built in the stove.

  “Why, Mr. Carpenter. Thank you.”

  “You are most welcome. The desk was beyond repair, I’m afraid.”

  “I see.” She gathered her courage and took a step closer to him. “May I ask why you came to the school at such an hour?”

  He looked away. “I beg your pardon, miss. I succumbed to my weakness and visited the saloon.”

  Kathleen’s eyes widened. “Well, you should be ashamed of yourself. But that doesn’t explain your presence here.”

  He shrugged. “The wind was extremely cold, and it was snowing so hard I could scarcely see where I was going. I knew I couldn’t make it home, so I came here.”

  “Oh, it snowed? I best clear a path for the children.”

  “Don’t bother. No one will be coming today.”

  “What do you mean? It’s Tuesday. Of course they’ll be here. It’s a school day.”

  “Look outside.”

  Crossing to the window, Kathleen peeked through a circle Mr. Carpenter had wiped in the frosted glass. “Oh, my. I’m afraid you’re right.” Not only was the ground covered but heavy snow still fell from the sky.

  “Naturally.”

  With a sinking—and slightly nauseated—stomach, Kathleen realized one more thing: If the children couldn’t come to school, Mr. Carpenter couldn’t leave.

  By noon, the stench was beginning to waft into Kathleen’s own living quarters, and she’d had all she could take. The ham she’d sliced for lunch sizzled in the skillet, the smell turning her stomach.

  She tossed aside her book and flung open the door. “Mr. Carpenter, we need to talk.”

  He sat in her chair holding her book in his dirt-caked hands. “Yes, miss?”

  Her courage faltered, then revived as she thought ahead to the possibility of days and days with this man. “I haven’t all day, Miss Johnson. I would like to get back to this perfectly delightful book.” Kathleen recognized Edgar Allan Poe’s name on the spine and rolled her eyes. She shook herself to get back to the matter at hand.

  “Mr. Carpenter, I–I am afraid I must ask you—no, I must insist that you …” He frowned. “Yes?”

  “Sir, I beg of you to fill the tub and take a bath.” His eyes sparked as he jumped to his feet. “What?” Kathleen shrank back from his anger.

  “What right have you to insult me, young lady?” He glared down at her. “I–I meant no insult.”

  He seemed not to have heard. “I was born and bred in Boston, the son of a wealthy merchant. I attended the finest schools and served as a schoolmaster in this very town until the war.” He banged his fist on her desk, and Kathleen jumped, tears filling her eyes. “I am entitled to respect. I will be treated with decency!”

  Fearing the wild fury in his eyes, she turned and fled the room. Once she was safely inside her quarters, she leaned against her closed door and willed her racing heart to return to a normal beat. Fat tears rolled down her cheeks. How could she have been so insensitive? From their first encounter, she had known that beneath Mr. Carpenter’s exterior was a great man. She couldn’t begin to fathom why on earth he would choose to live as he did, but wasn’t she called to love him regardless? Would Christ have insisted he take a bath without taking the time to have a proper conversation?

  Dear Lord, You brought Mr. Carpenter stumbling into the schoolroom as a blizzard roared. You knew we’d be trapped together, and You know how vile he smells. Please give me Your grace, compassion, and love for the man.

  She walked to the stove and removed the slightly burned slices of ham from the skillet. She brewed a pot of strong coffee. When it was finished, she poured two mugs full, piled ham between two slices of bread, and returned to the school.

  Mr. Carpenter sat in her chair, reading as before. He didn’t look up. “I’d like to apologize, sir.”

  Still no response. Kathleen set the mug and plate b
efore him on her desk. She took a gulp of her own coffee and nearly choked as it scorched her throat. “B–be careful. The coffee’s hot.”

  He glanced up at her, curiosity in his eyes.

  There. At least he was responsive. She began again. “I had no right to speak to you as I did. You are a full-grown man of more intelligence than anyone I know, and you have the right to decide whether or not to bathe.”

  With a grunt, he eyed the sandwich and mug, then turned his attention back to his book.

  Heat flooded Kathleen’s face. “Well, I guess I’ll … I guess you don’t want company. I can drink my coffee back in my room.” Turning, she swallowed back her humiliation.

  “Wait, miss.”

  She turned back. “Yes, sir?”

  “You brought only a cup of coffee for yourself. Are you not eating?”

  So heavy was the stench, her stomach revolted against the thought. “Uh, no. I’m not very hungry.”

  He scrutinized her a moment, nodded, and then returned his attention to the book. Feeling dismissed, Kathleen returned to her quarters and picked up her knitting. Her lonely evenings had afforded her plenty of time to stockpile knitted gifts for her family and friends. Now she was determined to knit a stocking cap for each boy in her class and a scarf for each girl—something for them to remember her by when she went back home.

  She had just finished another scarf when a knock at her door nearly sent her through the roof.

  Mr. Carpenter handed her the mug and plate. “Thank you kindly for your generosity,” he said regally. “Now if I may trouble you once more.”

  “Of course. What can I do for you?”

  “I’d very much appreciate the use of a pot with which to collect snow. And the washtub. And one more thing. Might I trouble you for a blanket to wrap around myself while my clothes are drying?”

  Kathleen collected the items he requested and threw in a chunk of lye soap.

  “Thank you.” He gave her a stern glance. “You must not enter the schoolroom until I return your items. I’m not entirely sure this is appropriate as it is. But for the sake of your appetite, I see no alternative.”