by Amanda Cabot
Harriet cleared her throat as she reminded herself of the reason she’d come. It was not to stare at this man, no matter how attractive he might be. Deliberately, she looked around the room, her eyes registering the large window on one wall and the partially open door that revealed Ladreville’s sole jail cell. “That wasn’t necessary, you know.”
His brows rose. “What wasn’t necessary?”
As if he didn’t know. Once again, anger began to simmer, and when she spoke, her voice was laced with asperity. “It wasn’t necessary to visit the school this morning. I’m perfectly capable of handling my pupils. I don’t need you to threaten them. The little ones were frightened for the rest of the day, probably imagining themselves in your jail cell.”
Lawrence’s brows lowered as suddenly as they’d risen. “Let’s get a few things straight.”
Harriet nodded. That was precisely the reason she was here. But her momentary agreement with the town’s mayor ended as he continued. “First of all, I came because it was my duty. The townspeople expect me to keep everything running smoothly, including the school. I needed to be certain that was happening.” He paused, and his face softened ever so slightly. “Although you didn’t appreciate it, I also came as a courtesy to you. I thought you might like both adult companionship and a show of support. Obviously, I was wrong.” Before Harriet could reply, he said, “Thirdly, if your pupils are afraid, have you considered they might be afraid of you?”
That was preposterous. Harriet stiffened her spine and glared at the man who had made such an absurd allegation. “Me? Why?”
Though the corners of his mouth twitched as if he wanted to laugh, Lawrence’s voice was serious as he said, “You can be rather forbidding, especially when you frown. Unfortunately, that seems to be most of the time.”
Just like a man. He was in the wrong, but rather than admit it, he was trying to shift the blame to her. “That’s not true.”
“Isn’t it? You haven’t smiled once since you came in here.”
“If I haven’t smiled”—and she wasn’t certain that was the case—“it’s because this is not a frivolous conversation.”
“Perhaps not, but there are always reasons to smile.”
“Like the fact that, no matter what I do or say, Jake is belligerent and Ruth mopes around the house?” Harriet clapped her hand over her mouth. Had those words really come from her? What on earth was the matter with her that she was confiding personal affairs to a man who was practically a stranger? “I’m sorry. I never should have said that. My family is not your concern.”
As he nodded slowly, his eyes met hers and she saw sincerity reflected in their blue depths. “Perhaps not directly,” he agreed, “but I was serious when I said I came to the school to offer adult companionship. I won’t claim that I know anything about raising or teaching children. I don’t.”
Though his tone remained even, Harriet saw the flash of pain in Lawrence’s eyes. It was gone almost as quickly as it appeared, replaced by something that looked like sympathy. Not pity, but sympathy. Harriet relaxed as she recognized the difference.
“Sometimes it helps to talk about problems,” Lawrence continued. “You don’t have to solve them all yourself.”
“Thank you, but . . .”
“I know.” He nodded again, and this time there was no doubt about it. He was forcing himself not to smile. “I know you’re used to being self-sufficient. I’m not trying to change that. All I’m saying is that I’m here if you need a friendly ear.”
Harriet could feel her eyes widen in astonishment as she considered the day from a new perspective. Had she been wrong in thinking Lawrence wanted to interfere? What if he really was offering friendship? No one had ever made such an offer; certainly not a man. Even Thomas, who had professed undying love, had not been a friend. “I don’t know what to say.”
“There’s no need to say anything.” Lawrence smiled, and before she knew what was happening, Harriet felt herself smiling in response. “I just want you to know that I’m not the enemy.”
She looked at him, seeing the earnest expression on his face. “No,” she said slowly, “you’re not.”
“If we agree on that, can we dispense with some of the formality? My friends call me Lawrence.”
“And mine call me Harriet.”
“Thank you, Harriet.” The smile on Lawrence’s face set her pulse to racing in ways that even Thomas’s most fervent declarations of love had not.
6
The new minister had arrived. Lawrence grinned. Even though he disliked its proximity to the river, his house possessed the advantage of a central location. Not only was it sandwiched between the post office and the lawyer’s office, but it was also directly across from the block of Hochstrasse he privately called “Church Row” because it held the town’s two churches and their respective parsonages. If the stories that he had wanted to control the town were accurate, Michel Ladre had chosen wisely when he built his house here, for it afforded a clear view of most of Ladreville’s activity. Without straining, Lawrence could see who was headed for the mercantile and who entered the other establishments on Hochstrasse. The only problem was that the post office jutted out a bit, preventing him from viewing the school and its prickly teacher.
Lawrence reached for his hat and headed toward the door. He didn’t understand Harriet. For someone so young, she seemed to carry a huge chip on her shoulder. It seemed that she expected the worst of everyone. Look at how she’d misinterpreted his visit to the schoolhouse. While it was true that he’d been concerned about her ability to control the class and wanted to establish some rules for the students, he hadn’t been lying when he’d told her that he’d come for her benefit. But she’d been convinced that he’d sought to undermine her authority. Why? He could understand her wariness if she’d been a Ranger. Because their job put them in contact with some mighty undesirable creatures, Rangers quickly learned to trust no one. But Harriet was a teacher. Surely that experience had not engendered such suspicion. And, though he didn’t doubt that it had been difficult, it was hard to believe that the strain of raising five siblings had caused her prickliness. Lawrence settled his hat on his head and touched his holster, assuring himself that the six-shooter was in place. There was no point in speculating. If ever there was a woman who defied understanding, it was Harriet Kirk. Her behavior was even more baffling than Lottie’s. Though they’d parted amicably, Lawrence would eat his hat if the prim, proper, and prickly Miss Kirk ever accepted his offer of a friendly ear. But Harriet was not his problem. He had duties, and they did not include trying to fathom the mind of Ladreville’s schoolmarm.
“You must be our new minister.” Lawrence studied the man who had climbed out of the wagon and was hitching the horses to the post. Though the town had been buzzing with the news that Pastor Sempert’s replacement was due any day, no one seemed to know anything about him. He was not what Lawrence had expected. Though he couldn’t explain why, Lawrence had pictured a short, dark-haired man. Like Pastor Sempert, the stranger was tall, probably an even six feet, but his shoulders were not bowed, and while Pastor Sempert was sturdily built, this man was almost painfully thin. Lawrence had seen scarecrows with more substance.
He extended his hand for a shake. “I’m Lawrence Wood, Ladreville’s mayor and sheriff for the next four and a half months.”
The man’s grip was firm, and when he smiled, his ordinary features lit with enthusiasm. “You’re right. I’m Pastor Russell, but please call me Sterling.” To Lawrence’s surprise, the new minister’s voice bore no hint of a German accent. “I certainly hope I’ll be serving Ladreville for longer than four months.” He gave his dust-covered wagon a rueful glance. “It seems like it took me almost that long to get here from Pennsylvania.”
Lawrence had heard something about the new minister being fresh from a seminary somewhere back East. Though the townspeople had hoped for someone to be sent from the Old Country, that hadn’t happened. “How was the journey?”
“Heat?” The man’s expression told Lawrence that, unlike Harriet Kirk, he wouldn’t mind a little joking. “This is a cool spell.” It wasn’t, of course. The sun had emerged from the rain, seemingly determined to compensate for the two days of cool weather. “You should have been here last month. August is a real scorcher.” That was no lie. Even the Hill Country’s trees couldn’t block the sun’s intense rays.
Glancing down the street, Lawrence saw a gaggle of women leave the mercantile and head in this direction. Nodding shortly, he gestured toward the parsonage and started walking. The new minister did not need a welcoming committee before he had a chance to get settled.
As Lawrence and Sterling approached the small stone edifice, Pastor Sempert emerged from the parsonage, looking older and more tired than Lawrence had ever seen him. His gait slightly unsteady, he greeted the young minister with a warm smile. “I regret that these old bones don’t move as fast as they used to. Now, come inside, and I’ll show you around. You’re welcome too, Lawrence.”
Lawrence shook his head. “I’d be in the way, but I’m just across the street.” He addressed his words to Sterling Russell and gestured toward his new home. “Come anytime you’re free.”
The younger man grinned. “I hope you don’t regret the invitation.”
“I won’t.” Though the minister was not what he had expected, instincts honed by years of having to judge a man within seconds told Lawrence that Sterling Russell would be a friend. That was a welcome thought, even if Lawrence would be leaving Ladreville in a few months. A man might as well enjoy those months as much as he could.
“Mayor Wood, we need to speak to you.” The first group of women had dispersed, but two more women had come from the opposite direction. Lawrence tried not to frown, though judging from the sour expression on the short, dark-haired woman’s face, he suspected he would not enjoy the next few minutes, especially since her companion wore an equally forbidding expression. The two women had obviously dressed for the occasion, for they both sported what Lawrence guessed were their Sunday bonnets. Made of straw, the dark-haired woman’s had bright pink ribbons and dried flowers on one side, while her companion’s hat boasted blue ribbons and several long bird feathers. The hats were festive; the women’s faces were not. Whatever Flowers and Feathers wanted to discuss, the likelihood was that it would not be pleasant.
“Shall we go inside my office?” Lawrence gestured toward the building across the street.
Feathers shook her head. “What we have to say can be said here. We don’t mind if others overhear us.”
“Certainly.” The only good Lawrence could see from that statement was that it was unlikely the conversation would be lengthy. The two women wouldn’t want to stand on the sidewalk indefinitely, particularly if Pastors Sempert and Russell returned to unload Pastor Russell’s wagon. While they might not care about the rest of its citizens, Lawrence doubted that the women would be willing for Ladreville’s religious leaders to overhear them. “What can I do for you ladies?”
Flowers pursed her lips before she announced, “You’ve got to stop her.”
Though he couldn’t explain why, Harriet Kirk’s face flashed through Lawrence’s mind. He dismissed the thought. Surely the schoolteacher wasn’t the object of these women’s anger. But as Feathers continued the explanation, Lawrence knew his first instinct had been correct. “She’s frightening our children,” Feathers said.
“Who?” It was a formality, but he had to ask. And then he had to learn why these women had made such allegations.
“Miss Kirk, the schoolmarm.” Flowers identified the cause of her concern.
For what seemed like the hundredth time since he’d arrived, Lawrence wondered why he’d ever thought himself suited to be Ladreville’s mayor. Though he hadn’t agreed with everything the Rangers had done, there was no doubt that he knew how to catch bandits. Dealing with irate women was another story.
He kept his face impassive as he looked at Flowers. “What exactly is she doing that frightens them?” Though Harriet’s expression could be formidable, Lawrence doubted that children would report that to their parents. He could imagine his own mother’s reaction if he’d come home from school, complaining that the teacher frowned at him. Ma would have told him he was lucky that’s all she had done.
“She keeps talking about emergencies,” Feathers said.
“She makes them practice leaving the schoolhouse quickly.”
Clearly annoyed that Flowers had interrupted, Feathers seized the moment to announce, “My Hortense is scared. She worries that something horrible will happen to us.”
“André has nightmares. He says he’s afraid he won’t be able to get out of our house in time.”
Lawrence suspected that if he didn’t interject a question, the two women would continue their litany of complaints indefinitely. Besides, he needed to clarify the problem. “Are your children afraid to go to school?” That was how the conversation had begun, with the women claiming that Harriet frightened their children. Now it sounded as if the fear was centered on their homes.
As Flowers shook her head, her pink bonnet ribbons bounced. “André isn’t. He says she’s an even better teacher than Mrs. Canfield.” The compliment was delivered grudgingly.
“What about your daughter?” Lawrence turned to Feathers.
The woman shrugged. “Hortense never said she didn’t want to go. Most mornings she leaves earlier than she needs to.”
Though the women would not agree, it was clear that while the problem may have originated with Harriet Kirk, it was now the mothers’ responsibility. Still, Lawrence was enough of a politician not to say that. “I’ll convey your concerns to Miss Kirk.” He grimaced as he listened to himself. Look at what had happened. He’d been in Ladreville less than two months, and he was starting to sound as pompous as Michel Ladre. What would he be like after another four and a half months? Worse, what if his time here didn’t end in January? The women had their problems. His was, despite the announcements he’d placed in newspapers all across Texas, no one appeared interested in replacing him.
“Will you do it soon?” Feathers asked.
“Yes, ma’am.” Lawrence tried not to frown as he imagined Harriet’s reaction.
“We’re going to the German church tomorrow.” Harriet delivered what she knew would be an unwelcome announcement as the family gathered for breakfast. As she’d expected, the boys groaned in protest. Though the family had alternated between the two churches, the children had expressed a preference for the French services, a fact Harriet suspected was due to the presence of stained glass. With neither service being conducted in English, the younger Kirks complained about boredom. At least the French sanctuary offered more visual stimulation. “I know it’s our week to go to the other one, but the German congregation has a new pastor,” Harriet said. “Common courtesy says we should be present for his first service.”
Mary gave Harriet a pleading smile. “Can I sit with Eva? She’s my friend.”
It was a good idea. The church would probably be more crowded than normal, meaning the Kirks would not have a pew to themselves. Perhaps they could share with Isabelle, Gunther, and Eva. “I’ll talk to Isabelle today.”
“We’d love to have you sit with us.” Isabelle’s brown eyes sparkled, and her face glowed as she smiled. As she did each Saturday, she was working at the mercantile, helping her parents on what was normally the busiest day of the week. To Harriet’s surprise, when she’d entered the store, she’d discovered only three customers waiting in line. Though a few others wandered through the aisles, the women fingering lace-trimmed handkerchiefs and studying the rows of spices while the men discussed the relative merits of nails and screws, there was less of a crowd than she’d expected. It was, Isabelle claimed, the morning l
ull.
The pretty brunette leaned across the counter, her smile turning conspiratorial. “I’m glad you’ll be with us.” Isabelle laid a hand on top of Harriet’s and squeezed it. “I can’t begin to tell you what a difference Mary has made. Eva’s so excited about having a friend that sometimes she goes a whole day without asking me when I’ll give her a baby brother or sister.”
It wasn’t only Eva who was excited about having a friend. Harriet reveled in the pleasure of being able to confide in Isabelle. She raised an eyebrow as she looked at the woman who’d become her friend. “Are you . . . ?”
“Increasing?” Isabelle completed the sentence. “Not yet.” She lowered her voice, as if to keep her mother from overhearing. “I want a baby, but Gunther is afraid. You see, his first wife died in childbirth. I keep telling him that I’m perfectly healthy, but Frieda was too.” As the door opened and two more customers entered, Isabelle’s voice assumed a businesslike tone. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be boring you with those stories. Now, would you like a new ribbon for your hat?”
Harriet shook her head. Madame Rousseau, Isabelle’s mother, had tried to sell her a lace jabot the last time she’d visited the store. The trouble was, they didn’t seem to understand that Harriet had no need of frivolous clothing. It wasn’t as if she were a young girl trying to attract a husband. “My old ribbon is serviceable.”
“We have some lovely colors. The dark blue would be particularly fetching.”
Isabelle pulled out a spool of ribbon. There was no doubt that the shade was pretty. Still, Harriet did not need it. Her hat ribbons were all brown, a color she had chosen because it did not show soil and would not clash with any of her clothes. “No, thank you.”
Good-naturedly, Isabelle shrugged her shoulders. “You can’t blame me for trying.”