“Thanks.” Sammy slid off the table and looked at Meredith Rose. “Hey, you’re purty. Are you my new teacher? I heard Brit Farley tell Ma he was gonna—”
A strong hand covered the child’s mouth. “Men don’t snoop on other folks’s conversations, and if they do, they don’t repeat what they hear,” his mother warned.
Of all the times for Katie Reilly to give Sammy a lesson in manners, why did it have to be now? Meredith Rose wondered. She would love to hear just what Brit Farley was “gonna” do about convincing her to teach school in the town he controlled!
“How much do I owe you?” Katie asked Marcus.
“Nothing. I’m not a real doctor.”
Katie sniffed. “Maybe so, but we’re right glad to have you.” She led Sammy out.
“That goes for all of us.” The old man held out a toil-worn hand. “I’m Charley January. Welcome to Last Chance.”
Now that the crisis was over, Meredith Rose had time to observe him. Rough but clean clothes. Kindly eyes in a whiskered face. “Are you a prospector?” she asked.
“I was ’til I up and found silver on Brit Farley’s land.” Charley swelled with pride. “Me ’n’ him went fifty–fifty. That’s the kinda feller he is. Grateful fer me helpin’ him build his log house. You gotta come visit us.” He pumped Marcus’s hand up and down.
Meredith Rose saw her brother surreptitiously flex his fingers when Charley finally released his grip. Evidently age and hard work hadn’t diminished the strength in Charley January’s gnarled hands. Or the steady look in his eyes. On impulse she said, “Would you like a cup of coffee, Mr. January?”
He brightened up. “I’m just plain Charley, an’ I’d love one.”
Two hours and countless tall tales later—most featuring Briton Farley as the all-conquering, bigger-than-life-and-twice-as-natural hero—Charley left, although obviously reluctant to do so. Meredith Rose stared at Marcus. “So this is Last Chance, where anything can, and apparently does, happen!”
“We knew it would be different.”
“Different?” Laughter swelled and burst into the quiet room. “I never knew the meaning of the word until now!” Yet long after she lay in bed watching the brilliant stars in the cold night sky, Meredith Rose couldn’t help wondering what it was about Briton Farley that inspired such trust in an old prospector and a child as young as the adoring Sammy; Sammy, whose innocent, “Are you my new teacher?” had touched a chord in her heart silenced by her former fiancé’s defection. Maybe teaching for a few weeks wouldn’t be so bad after all.
The next day Meredith Rose sent word to Brit that she would take over the school. The look of profound gratitude in his amber eyes when he appeared at her door to thank her sent a thrill through her unlike any she’d ever felt for Herbert Calloway.
“You’ll never know what this means,” he told her. “I thank God. By the way, I’ll be there come Monday morning to introduce you.” A lazy grin and raised eyebrow did little to detract from the candle lit in Meredith Rose’s heart.
She spent all day Saturday frantically reviewing the material in the schoolbooks Brit brought to her. He had consulted with Sadie Reilly, the only eighth-grade girl that term, and painstakingly provided a list of the fifteen students and where each was in his or her studies. It helped immensely.
“Now if I can only keep one step ahead of them,” Meredith Rose told Marcus.
“You can, Merry.” Her brother rumpled her hair and frowned. “Now if I can only keep one step ahead of my congregation! From what I hear, they know their Bibles upside down and backwards, especially Brit Farley.” He went back to studying.
Meredith Rose muttered, “So that’s his secret!” but not loudly enough for her twin to hear. She did not need Marcus teasing her about undue interest in the town boss. Her own unruly heart was already accusing her of it.
Marcus Macrae need not have worried about his first sermon in Last Chance. After much prayer, he chose Matthew 13:44 for his text: “ ‘Again, the kingdom of heaven is like unto treasure hid in a field; the which when a man hath found, he hideth, and for joy thereof goeth and selleth all that he hath, and buyeth that field.’ ”
A ripple of surprise ran through the packed schoolhouse-turned-church. Heads nodded. This they could understand! They were dependent on finding treasure. Working mines fed families, supported local businesses, and provided shelter and clothing.
For almost an hour, Marcus held the attention of men, women, and children who had been taught church was a place to listen and not just be entertained. He closed with Luke 12:34: “ ‘For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.’ ”
After a moment of silence he quietly asked, “Where is your treasure? Your heart? If it is not with our heavenly Father, all the silver and gold in the world are worthless.” He bowed his head. “Lord, we thank Thee for Thy love and for the gift of Thy Son. In Jesus’ name, amen.”
The congregation’s amens resounded through the room and bounced off the rafters. Then Brit Farley stood. “Preacher Marcus insists that no offerings be taken during services.” He shook his head. “Sounds mighty peculiar to me, but he says the Bible tells us to do our giving in secret.” He held up a flour sack. “For those who can and choose to give tithes and offerings, this will be at the back of the room on Sundays. No one, not even our preacher or the deacons, will know who gives what.” He strode down the aisle and hung the sack on a nail.
Meredith Rose heard a grunt of disapproval from Ignatius Crane. He had placed himself directly behind her and she had felt his gaze boring between her shoulder blades throughout the service. Evidently the new regime didn’t meet with his approval. If she were a betting person, she’d wager the highlight of Ichabod–Ignatius’s week was ostentatiously placing his offering in the plate for all to see!
People began collecting their belongings, then Brit said, “School will begin at eight o’clock tomorrow morning. Miss Macrae will be our new teacher.”
Hearty applause followed. “Miss Macrae” wished the floor would open and swallow her. She’d hoped to begin teaching without fanfare. So much for her hopes. “I’ll be there to observe you for a few days,” an unwelcome voice said in her ear.
Meredith Rose whirled. “That will not be necessary, Mr. Crane,” she said in her iciest voice. “I am sure I can teach without your interfer—without your help.”
He smirked. “Nevertheless, I’ll be there. We’ve had bad luck with our teachers. As a member of the board of directors, I’ll make sure our younguns are taught proper.”
She cast an imploring look at Brit, handsomer than ever in his Sunday suit.
“Once Miss Macrae has time to settle in, I’m sure she will be happy to invite the school board members to visit,” he said easily. He smiled, but again Meredith Rose sensed a readiness to pounce if necessary. “Tomorrow morning I will introduce her, then make myself scarce. She needs to and will be left on her own. By the way, I’ve been meaning to talk with you about…” His voice trailed off as he firmly edged Ignatius away, leaving the new teacher filled with gratitude.
From the time Meredith Rose rang the school bell the next morning, then took her place behind the hand-hewn teacher’s desk, she became the object of adoration from even the most unruly students. She attributed it to Brit Farley’s warning that if they made trouble for the new teacher, they would answer to him. And to Sammy Reilly’s loud praises about how Preacher Doc “fixed” his shoulder. In any event, long before the spring term ended, the young woman found herself actually anticipating each new day and searching for ways to keep her students interested.
She also discovered the heart she had vowed to never again give away pounded like a war drum each time Brit Farley stepped inside her classroom. She found it amusing to note the number of flimsy excuses he used to ride up on Nez Percé just as school was letting out. Sometimes it was to make sure she had enough school supplies. At other times, he wanted to know what progress this or that student was making. Meredith Rose came to
look forward to his brief visits.
When the term ended and summer came, Brit was busier than ever with his ranch and mines. She seldom saw him except on Sunday at church and sometimes not even then. Rumors of trouble in other areas reached Last Chance: stories of miners’ strikes that turned ugly. Wallace, Idaho, had faced such troubles a few years earlier. Tension mounted during a mining labor strike. Soldiers pitched their tents in a vacant lot close to brick and frame businesses in order to keep the peace.
“God forbid such a thing will come to Last Chance,” Marcus told his twin.
Fear clawed at her. If it did, would Brit be in danger? In the space of a single heartbeat, realization came. She cared far more for Briton Farley than she had been willing to admit, even to herself. In the privacy of her room, she chastised herself severely. “What have you, a Boston lady, to do with a man of the West? A gulf lies between you; a chasm wider than the miles stretching between Massachusetts and Idaho. He could never be part of your world.”
You could be part of his, a little voice whispered.
Meredith Rose laughed scornfully. She, settle down in Last Chance, the wife of a rancher and mine owner? Never! Brit Farley had installed every convenience possible in his log home, including running water from a nearby stream. Yet it was still a primitive house in a wilderness that both drew her by its beauty and repelled her by the lack of amenities she had been accustomed to all her life.
That home could be glorified by love, the voice persisted. Think of Brit Farley coming home to you at day’s end. Think of meeting him at the door and lifting your face for his kiss. Think of him catching you up in his strong arms and keeping you safe from the storms of life. Think of bearing Brit’s children: a tawny-haired boy with his father’s amber eyes; a dark-haired daughter who looks like you and Marcus. Of raising them in God’s Word to be His children. Marcus loves it here, and the people are generously supporting him. Why fight it, Meredith Rose?
“Even if I could overcome my feelings about Last Chance, I’d never be anything more than second choice, chosen because I remind Brit of the woman who ‘once meant everything to him,’ ” she protested, remembering the sadness in his eyes when he told her why he stared at her. Torn by the conflicting images that knocked at the door of her heart and threatened to undo her, Meredith Rose cried herself to sleep for what might have been, if Brit hadn’t made clear his heart still belonged to his first love.
Chapter 8
The little voice that had whispered to Meredith Rose was right. Marcus had fallen in love with Idaho. He exulted in the long hours he put in visiting townspeople and witnessing of his Lord, helping those who were sick or afflicted with ailments and injuries within the scope of his medical knowledge. Last Chance had become his home.
When Zeb Perry and his wife moved to Last Chance with their daughter, Alice, Marcus’s joy increased. Alice, a modest young woman whose fair face shone with the goodness that comes from within, attracted Marcus as no woman had ever done. He wisely bided his time but felt that God had directed his and the Perrys’ footsteps to the isolated mining town for a reason. If the look in the blue eyes gazing up at him from beneath Alice’s simple bonnet were to be believed, she cared for him, as well.
Yet Marcus’s growing love was bittersweet. How would Merry react when he told her he wanted nothing more than to marry sweet Alice and spend the rest of his days serving in a place his twin hated? Would it mean separation? The thought left him miserable. Why must he be a wishbone, pulled between the girl he hoped to make his wife and Merry, his other half—the half who had promised they would never part. In spite of her being a good sport about the teaching, Marcus sensed Merry was also biding her time—waiting until she could convince him to leave Last Chance.
One evening when they strolled to a wooded knoll at the edge of town and watched the setting sun slide behind a high green hill, Meredith Rose spoke. “You’re in love with Alice. Are you going to marry her?”
Marcus didn’t quibble. “Yes, God willing.”
The rosy afterglow filling the sky and reflecting on her face didn’t hide the desolation in her eyes, but she quietly said, “I am happy for you.”
“What about you, Merry? Will you stay? Our school still needs a teacher.” He didn’t dare add that a certain rancher-miner also needed her. Neither Brit nor Merry had been able to hide from him their growing feelings. They had started with a spark of attraction when she first stepped down from the stage. Brit would be good for his twin. Strong enough to curb her haughty spirit—as evidenced by the way he had coaxed her into teaching—he was also gentle enough to appreciate and cherish her.
Her shoulders drooped. “I know. The board of directors asked me to stay.”
“I hope you will.” Marcus took a deep breath, then delivered a blow he knew would shatter her dreams. “Merry, even if you leave, I can’t. This is where I belong.”
“You’ll marry Alice, and there will be no place for me.” She held up her hand to still his protest. “The town will build you a home. Unless I continue teaching, I can’t live at the schoolhouse.” Her blue eyes flashed. “Marcus, even if it means never seeing you again, I won’t live with you and Alice. I won’t be the spinster sister people laugh at behind her back!” She turned in a whirl of pink muslin skirts and ran, leaving her twin sick at heart and knowing only God could help him and Merry.
For two wretched days, Marcus and Meredith Rose avoided the subject ever on their minds. “Lord, is it wrong to pray she will change her mind?” he asked again and again. “I can’t bear to think we will be separated.” Mark 10:7 came to mind: “For this cause shall a man leave his father and mother, and cleave to his wife.”
“I know, Lord,” Marcus brokenly said. “But the thought of watching Merry board the stage and ride out of my life is more than I can bear.”
Before anything was settled, the arrival of two slick strangers overshadowed the twins’ personal problems. The strangers came with the sole intention of inciting the miners to strike against the Last Chance mine owners, Brit Farley and Charley January. Brit learned of their secret meeting from Katie Reilly. Sammy had been scrunched down under a table at Katie’s Kitchen hoping someone might have dropped some change.
“They didn’t see me,” he told his mother. “They said they were gonna get the miners to strike an’ show Brit Farley who’s boss of this town.” He clenched his grubby hands into small fists. “Just let ’em try!”
Brit and Charley echoed Sammy’s inelegant response when Katie sent word. They burst into the meeting held in a stand of trees at the edge of town and confronted the troublemakers. “We deal with our men—not with the likes of you,” Brit barked.
“We done told ’em that,” a loyal miner called. A growl of agreement ran through the crowd. “We only came tonight because we wanted to hear what they had to say. You’ve always treated us fair an’ square. That’s good enough for us.”
Charley wasn’t to be outdone. He cackled and pointed to the road out of town. “Git.” A grin spread across his grizzled face. “Y’might say this is yore Last Chance.”
The troublemakers hightailed it away as if it really were their last chance, followed by a chorus of loud haw-haws from those they had considered easy marks.
When Meredith Rose heard about the incident, she marveled at the miners’ allegiance. For a fleeting moment she pictured Herbert Calloway inspiring such loyalty. The idea was so farfetched she laughed until she cried. Thankfulness that she hadn’t married the dancing master filled her. At times it was hard to remember what he looked like. Boston and her former existence seemed long ago and far away. Life in Last Chance might be crude but never by any stretch of imagination could it be called dull.
The little town went all out for Independence Day. On July 1, Sammy Reilly stopped his teacher in the middle of the street and asked, “Didja hear about the Fourth of July? Every year, there’s a pick-a-nick out by the mine.” His red hair waved in the warm afternoon breeze. “You never seen such food!”
He rolled his eyes and licked his lips. “Chicken ’n’ cake ’n’ pie ’n’ lemonade ’n’ all kindsa stuff. We play games, too, an’ at night the sky gets all lit up from fireworks.” He danced around her in anticipation. “I can’t wait!”
“I guess we’ll have to,” Meredith Rose told him.
He sidled up to her and looked into her face. “Are you gonna be my teacher again? Ma says she shore hopes so an’ that if Brit Farley lets you get away, he’s plumb loco. He ain’t, is he?”
The pleading in the child’s face prodded Meredith Rose into announcing a decision she had slowly been moving toward for several days. She couldn’t leave Last Chance. It wasn’t right to ask her twin for money the congregation had contributed for his upkeep. What little she had earned wouldn’t get her far. If she stayed for the full autumn term and hoarded everything she made, she’d have a nest egg. “No, Sammy. Mr. Farley isn’t loco. I’m going to be your teacher.”
His skinny hand grabbed hers and squeezed. Then he let out a war whoop and sped away. “Hey, Ma, Teacher says Brit ain’t loco an’ she’ll stay!” His voice echoed up and down the dusty street.
Katie Reilly appeared at the door of her café. “Well, that’s mighty good news. Right, Brit?”
To Meredith Rose’s chagrin, the tall, familiar frame of the town boss followed Katie out of the café. “Which? That I’m not loco, or that Miss Macrae is staying?”
“Both, you big galoot,” Katie retorted. She sniffed. “Land sakes, my biscuits are burning.” She shoved past Brit and ran back inside.
Unable to escape the man who purposefully headed toward her, Meredith Rose knew she had to brazen it out, but why did Brit have to learn she was staying like this? Before she could think of a casual remark, he halted in front of her, just long enough for a wide smile to creep across his tanned face. The next instant his powerful arms caught her by the elbows. He lifted her off her feet, then swung her in a circle. Her thin white gown ballooned about her. “That’s the best news this town has heard in a month of Sundays,” Brit rejoiced. “Miss Meredith Rose Macrae, I just plain love you!”
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