Open Road

by M. M. Holaday

  Land was parceled out and sold. Ranchers flooded into the area and settled around Paradise. The town grew; a boarding house popped up, someone took over the livery, and the Carters took on extra help. The town soon had enough residents to support a church and a school. When James was eleven and Charlie turned nine, Meg no longer had to school them at the kitchen table. The town hired their first teacher, Mr. Holgrum, and built a schoolhouse in a central location halfway between Paradise and Lyonsville. He lasted only a year and moved on. A young, single woman was hired next, but, within two months she married a widowed rancher with three children and resigned. Etta Sinclair was hired in October of 1881 to replace her. She was the only part of the quickly changing world that Meg liked.

  Etta was a forty-five-year-old widow with a mysterious past. It was rumored that she was widowed young. Folks who found it entertaining to talk about people heard that she had married an outlaw, who was jailed and later got shot while trying to escape. Most people were too polite to bring it up in conversation in front of her, but wondered aloud to each other why she called herself “Miss.” Some who couldn’t help themselves hinted at the rumors to her face to watch her reaction. She never took the bait and always kept conversation at a higher level, preferring to talk about literature, philosophy, and history rather than gossip. She carried herself well, with her back straight and her chin up, as if to guard herself against the stories that seemed to follow her from one teaching position to the next. She was fodder for gossip, and many parents did not like her for that reason. But James and Charlie chattered away at the dinner table every night about what she’d taught them in school. Meg loved her.

  Miss Sinclair arrived at the Dawson ranch driving her own carriage late one afternoon. Gus came out of the barn as she pulled up, the dogs trailing after him.

  “Oh, hello,” she said gaily as he arrived at the side of her carriage. The dogs were unusually excited and curious about the visitor and created a churning sea of wagging tails, barking, and general enthusiasm below the carriage.

  “Buddy, Billy! Get down, now. Give this lady some room.” The dogs quieted and lay down by the porch steps. “Ma’am.” Gus offered his hand to her as she climbed down.

  “Thank you.” She smiled at the obedient dogs. “Goodness, I wish my students listened as well! I rather miss having dogs around. I grew up with them.” Billy and Buddy lifted their heads, encouraged by the lilt in her voice, but Gus pointed his finger at them and they put their heads back down on the ground and sulked.

  “They have joyful souls; that’s a fact. It’s hard for a dog to have a bad day.”

  Miss Sinclair laughed appreciatively as Jeb came around the corner. Meg stepped out of the house at the same time. Meg glanced at Jeb, wondering if he heard the playful sound in Gus’s voice, but Jeb was striding over to the teacher with his hand extended.

  “You must be Miss Sinclair. I’m Jeb Dawson, and this is my wife. I see you’ve met Gus Steensland.”

  “No, actually, not formally.” Miss Sinclair smiled cheerfully and extended her hand to him again. “Etta Sinclair, schoolteacher and dog lover.” She winked and Gus grinned.

  Miss Sinclair was invited inside, but she motioned to the chairs outside and asked if they could sit on the porch, as it was such a pleasant evening. Meg readily agreed; she preferred the porch over any room in the house. Instead of returning to the barn, Gus joined them.

  Miss Sinclair wore her thick, dark, auburn hair piled on top of her head. Although full-figured, she was not heavy. She was telling the adults how much she enjoyed her new teaching post when she caught a glimpse of the boys peeking through the window.

  She tilted her head, peering back at them. “Oh! Here I am, chattering away, when I’ve neglected to state my purpose for visiting.” She pulled out a primer from her book satchel. “Charlie left this at school. Since I gave an assignment from it, I thought he might need it.”

  “Charlie, come out to the porch,” Meg called. Charlie emerged from the house looking sheepish. “Miss Sinclair was very kind to bring you your book. Do you have anything to say to her?”

  “Yes, ma’am; thank you, ma’am.” Charlie took the primer from her.

  “Charlie, I’m rather glad you forgot your primer.” Miss Sinclair tilted her head again. “Now I’ve had the chance to meet Billy and Buddy and the rest of your family. This is the most beautiful spot in the whole county.”

  The boy dropped his reserve. “Yes, ma’am; I think so, too!”

  She leaned forward, as though sharing a secret. “I know this primer isn’t very interesting. But I hope you’ll learn from it so you can read much more interesting books, literature, philosophy, science—”

  “We’ve got a bunch of those books! Wanna see ’em?” Charlie jerked his thumb at the window, indicating the books were just inside.

  “If your mother doesn’t mind, I’d love to.” Miss Sinclair glanced at Meg.

  “By all means, Charlie can show you. You are welcome to borrow some if you’d like,” Meg said.

  Charlie grabbed Miss Sinclair’s hand and dragged her into the house. They could hear her by the bookcase exclaiming delight at seeing familiar titles. James joined them. Jeb, Meg, and Gus just looked at each other, eyebrows raised in pleasant surprise. When she came back out, she was alone.

  “Well, this was well planned on my part.” Miss Sinclair held up three books and laughed. “In exchange for one dull primer, I found three extraordinary tomes. I hope you don’t mind.”

  “Not at all. What did you find?” Jeb asked.

  “Well, I believe books should feed the heart, mind, and soul. So, for my mind, I chose Emerson’s Essays; for my soul, Henry Thoreau’s Walden . . . and, for my heart, this Wilkie Collins novel looks delightful!”

  “Oh, it is!” Meg liked Miss Sinclair; she was fun.

  “You are very generous to let me borrow all three. I will return them soon, I promise.”

  “I’ll be going into Paradise next Tuesday. I could stop by . . . save you a trip,” Gus said.

  “That would be just fine, Mr. Steensland. I appreciate it. My goodness, you’ve all made me feel so welcome, I have completely abused your kindness. I must be going now and let you get on with your day.” Miss Sinclair stood up to leave. Gus jumped up faster than Meg had ever seen him move. Before he helped her back into her carriage, she reached down and scratched Billy and Buddy behind the ears and praised them for their exemplary behavior. They remained planted at their spots, but their tails wagged furiously. “I look forward to seeing you on Tuesday, Mr. Steensland.” With a slap to the rump of the livery horse, she was gone. Meg watched Gus’s eyes follow her out of sight.

  “I’ll bet she was a firecracker in her youth. She’s a pleasant addition to the town, that’s a fact.” As he returned to the barn, Meg noticed a spring in his step.

  The bell over the door into the Carters’ store announced Meg’s arrival. Georgia poked her head out from the back room and let out an excited chirp.

  “Meg, dear, you have time for a visit, don’t you?” Georgia gave her a significant look as she swept across the room to her. “Of course you do. Mick, watch the store. I’m going home.”

  Mick blinked, stunned, as Georgia linked arms with Meg and escorted her next door to their home. So clean and quiet compared to the ranch, Meg could actually hear the clock tick on the mantle. She sat down on the love seat. Georgia dropped into the seat next to her, smiling mischievously.

  “Georgia, what on earth is going on?”

  “Love. That’s what’s going on.” Georgia looked behind her to confirm that no one was listening. Then she leaned toward Meg. “Last Tuesday, I came from the back room and saw Gus out in front of the store, pacing and looking as nervous as a bridegroom. He had on a clean shirt, had combed his hair, and carried two books with him. I was about to go out and visit with him when Miss Sinclair came around the corner. Well, you know I wouldn’t normally be so impolite as to eavesdrop, but when I saw the look on his face when she
appeared, I couldn’t help myself.

  “ ‘Oh, Mr. Steensland, there you are,’ Miss Sinclair said. ‘I hate to trouble you with these books.’

  “ ‘It’s no trouble at all,’ Gus replied. ‘In fact, I brought a couple of others I thought you might enjoy.’

  “They started a discussion about philosophy that wove its way into literature and then into poetry. I had no idea Gus knew so much. Finally, after quite a long discussion—all the while I dearly hoped Mick wouldn’t show up and catch me hiding behind the door listening—Miss Sinclair said: ‘Your daughter is lovely. I hope she and I can be friends.’

  “ ‘Meggie’s not my daughter,’ Gus said. ‘I took her under my wing when her folks died. Over the years, she’s brought a lot of joy to my life.’

  “Through the crack in the door, I could see Miss Sinclair break into a big smile and say, ‘That’s the second time you’ve used the word joy in the two conversations we’ve had, Mr. Steensland. You are a most unusual man.’ Then she tilted her head the way women do to let men know they’ve just been given a compliment. You know men—usually they’re too thick to notice—but Gus picked up on it right away.

  “ ‘Well, thank you, ma’am,’ he said. ‘Most folks don’t look hard enough for it—joy, I mean. They think it’s supposed to land in their laps. I figure you gotta dig for it a little. You find it in surprising places, sometimes.’ He smiled at her so sweetly she blushed and smiled, too. Then he said, ‘If I’m not too forward in saying so, I think we may have stumbled upon a little joy right here. I’d feel right special if you’d call me Gus.’

  “And then she said, ‘Only if you call me Etta.’ ”

  Meg gasped and grabbed Georgia’s hand as they giggled together like schoolgirls. Georgia said she had no idea that old buzzard could be so charming.

  Meg squeezed Georgia’s hand. “Oh, Georgia! This is wonderful!”

  The following Saturday, Miss Sinclair released the children early. When James and Charlie rode into the yard, Gus announced that he was going into town to play a little poker and wouldn’t be home for dinner. Meg noted with a half-smile that he angled Neighbor in the direction of the schoolteacher’s little house. The next morning, as he sat at breakfast, Meg asked Gus if the cards were good to him. He looked puzzled for an instant before he fabricated a response. Meg allowed him his privacy and said nothing, but placed her hand reassuringly on his shoulder as she poured his coffee. Gus started going to town regularly to “play poker.”

  Finally, one evening, Jeb pulled Meg close. Wrapped in his arms, Jeb told Meg that Gus had come into the barn bright and early, whistling away, more chipper than he’d ever seen him. “I asked him if he had a good poker night, and all he said was, ‘It’s a fine day,’ but chuckled to himself most of the morning.”

  “I’ve never seen those blue eyes of his twinkle quite so bright. Jeb, he’s in love.”

  “You’re right about that. I told him I knew he was seeing Etta. He said she was concerned that folks would start talking about her. They can fire her for cavorting.”

  “I don’t have any problem with Etta and Gus seeing each other.”

  “I told him that. I said we were mighty glad she’d come along and that she was something special. Then Gus said he thought so, too. He asked her to marry him, Meg, and she said yes. They’ll marry at the end of the school year.”

  Meg sat up in bed. “That’s wonderful news!”

  Jeb grinned. “I agree. But there’s more. Gus was marveling at the power of love and its ability to stir a man’s soul. He was under Sadie milking her and I had my back to the barn door, so we didn’t see the boys come in.”

  “Oh, dear,” Meg said. If the boys overheard and talked about it with anyone, Miss Sinclair’s reputation and career would be ruined. “Jeb, what did you do?”

  “I said, ‘Mornin’ boys,’ as casually as I could, but loud enough to warn Gus. He jumped up in surprise, kicked the milk bucket over, and cussed. The commotion in the corner of the barn caused our two wide-eyed boys to turn in unison toward the noise. I said, ‘You two looked a bit stunned. What did you hear that’s making you look like a couple of owls?’

  “James was speechless, but Charlie—who you know has trouble hiding anything—scratched his head and said ‘Geez, I can’t figure out how grownups find out about so much stuff. How’d you know poor James got kissed by Olivia Dean? She only got him last Friday!’ ”

  Meg gasped, half surprised, half relieved. “What? Olivia Dean? James kissed Olivia Dean?”

  Jeb held up his hand. “Not exactly. Hang on. Gus stood up and leaned over Sadie and asked, ‘What exactly did you hear me say, boys?’

  “Charlie said, ‘Somethin’ about kissin’ girls.’ James turned crimson. Charlie then turned to James and promised that he hadn’t squealed, that someone else must have. James told Charlie it was OK and that he was going to talk to me about it anyway. He looked miserable.

  “ ‘So, I guess you heard about Olivia,’ James said. ‘She started it . . . honest. I was coming in from recess and she just cornered me over by the coat hooks and . . . and kissed me.’ He wiped his mouth with his sleeve, as though he was reliving the horrible experience and said, ‘I guess you know the rest.’ ”

  Jeb sat up and leaned forward. “Apparently the boys thought we were talking about James and his trouble with girls, not Etta Sinclair. Gus ducked back under Sadie to finish the milking. All I could think to say was, ‘James, whatever I heard doesn’t matter. I’d like to hear your side of it.’ ”

  “Oh, that was clever.” Meg tucked her legs up under her nightgown and sat on the bed like a child hearing a bedtime story.

  “James explained—with Charlie’s help—that all he did was wipe his mouth after Olivia kissed him. Olivia asked why he did that, and wasn’t he gonna kiss her back? It must have been the way he answered no that made her hand fly across his cheek. ‘So I guess Olivia’s mad at me,’ he said. He added ‘She’s perplexing’ and a chuckle escaped from Gus, which he disguised as a cough. Then James said that Miss Sinclair pulled him aside and observed that it was the first time she’d seen a fellow get slapped for what he didn’t do rather than what he did, which produced another chortle from behind the cow. I agreed and said that, someday, girls would occupy more of his thoughts than they do now, and they’d get more enjoyable to be around, to trust me on that. I said girls go through a tough time at this age and they can be perplexing.

  “Charlie said, ‘I’ll say! They whisper and giggle all the time . . . I can’t figure out what’s so funny!’

  “I recommended steering clear for a few years, until girls grow up and calm down a bit. That’s when James grumbled that he bet you were never perplexing.”

  “Aw, James is always so sweet.” Meg caressed Jeb’s arm. “What did you say?”

  “I said that was a question for Gus because, when I met you, you were a lot older than Olivia is now.”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake. That sounds like something Win would say.”

  “Hang on, don’t tar and feather me yet. Gus stood up and said, ‘You are correct, son, your ma was never silly. She wasn’t no giggly, boy-chasing fool; that’s a fact. She was a fine young girl who grew up into a fine young lady, just like her own ma, and just like Miss Sinclair. Good advice your pa just gave you. Steer clear of perplexing girls for a while. You deserve better, and better ones will come along.’ ”

  Meg smiled wistfully. “You and Gus, you’re a couple of old romantics. And our sweet boys are growing up.” She reached over and caressed his cheek.

  Jeb pulled her over to him and unbuttoned her nightgown.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN: JEB

  Dawson ranch, May 1882

  Jeb woke with a start. Someone had just ridden into the yard. He pulled on his trousers and grabbed his shotgun, but put it down when he saw Etta jumping down from Neighbor. Even in the moonlight, he could see the schoolteacher’s grim expression.

  Meg woke, too, put on her robe, and followed Jeb out on to
the porch, brushing her tousled hair from her eyes.

  “Mr. Dawson, Mrs. Dawson, I need your help!” Miss Sinclair whispered.

  Meg grabbed Jeb’s arm. “What’s going on?”

  “Gus . . . I mean, Mr. Steensland, he . . . he was . . . returning a book. He collapsed and . . . said I should get you. I think he’s having a heart attack . . .” She stopped then, put her hands to her face and started to sob.

  Jeb was already halfway to the barn to saddle Galen, his heart sinking. Moments later, he emerged and rode over to the women. “Meggie, stay here. I’ll bring Gus home.” Etta turned Neighbor around and rode back to her house with Jeb.

  The moon was so full and bright that it cast shadows. A warm, gentle breeze stirred the scents of the prairie in new bloom. Every Saturday since they’d met, Gus had bathed, put on clean clothes, and left for town in the late afternoon. He’d have dinner in town, he’d say. He was always in the barn the next morning, whistling cheerfully as he cleaned the stalls. He kept his horse in the old barn next to her house—hidden from anyone passing by—in order to protect her reputation. But no one ever came by. No one gave the spinster schoolteacher a second thought once school let out for the week. No one except Gus.

  Etta and Jeb rode up to her house. Hiding the horses was unnecessary at three o’clock in the morning. Jeb followed Miss Sinclair inside. Gus had tried to dress himself, but hadn’t gotten far.

  “Jeb’s gonna bring me home, Etta . . . keep your reputation intact.” Gus whispered the words and allowed Jeb to help him with this shirt.

  Miss Sinclair glanced at Jeb but said nothing. Together, they dressed the old cowboy and carefully helped Gus into his saddle. He slumped over, his face twisted in pain. Sheer willpower seemed to keep him conscious. Dying in the schoolteacher’s bed, creating a scandal, was not Gus’s way. They slowly rode home. Meg was waiting for them on the porch and helped Gus out of his saddle. Jeb and Meg carried him into the house and put him in his bed. He said he preferred to sit, so they propped him up.