by Gina Welborn
Before she could interject caution into the conversation, Roy said, “But don’t let that fool any of you into thinking you can get rich racing balloons. Prize money must be carefully managed.” He turned to the chalkboard and wrote 100 near the top. “Some races have larger prizes. Some less. A hundred is a fair average. It seems like a lot of money, but I have to pay my expenses out of it. What do you think some of them are?”
Konrad Bullock’s hand shot up. “Don’t you have to have a crew to help you set up the balloon and help bring it to the ground?”
“Absolutely. Ballooning is not a one-man show.” Roy turned to the chalkboard and wrote a 50 below the 100. “Everywhere I travel, I have to hire a crew to help. Paying for a crew is my largest expense. This next race is a two-man one, so instead of competing individually, Geddes Palmer and I have partnered up. Half the winnings are his. What else?”
The students called out more suggestions—some serious, some ridiculous. Roy subtracted more and more from the original amount.
Roy laid down the chalk, then smacked his hands together to remove the dust. “As you can see, I’m left with only eight dollars. Out of that, I might have to pay for something unexpected like a medical bill. Sometimes I’m blessed by a family who allows me to stay in their home while I’m in town. Keep in mind, I don’t win all the races I enter, but I still have the same number of expenses.”
Between the gaping jaws and wide eyes, the romantic lure of balloon racing was fading into practical and shocking terms.
Roy walked to Luanne’s desk and perched on the edge. “Despite the uncertainty of income, I love balloon racing. If I’m lucky enough to win the upcoming race, I’ll use the prize money to purchase a brand-new invention that allows me to take pictures without glass-developing plates.”
The students exchanged looks.
“Mr. Bennett,” Luanne put in, “do you mean a camera?” Surely he didn’t think they didn’t know what a camera was.
Roy looked over his shoulder. “Yes, ma’am, but this one is different than anything you’ve ever heard about or seen.” He stood. “Ordinary cameras stand about yea high”—he put a hand at chin level—“and to operate it, the photographer must insert a heavy glass plate to capture each image. Problem is, all that equipment weighs down a hot air balloon, as well as takes up space. A man named Eastman back in New York has invented a way to capture multiple images on a piece of film. Not only is the camera easy to carry, but it can be handheld during operation.”
Roy moved back to the chalkboard. He grabbed the chalk and roughly sketched what looked to be a rectangular box with a hold on one end and a button and a lever on the top. Underneath his drawing he wrote in large block letters: KODAK.
“Someday any schoolchild like those of you in this class will be able to take photographs like a professional.” Roy grinned like he’d just bestowed a great gift on them.
“How does it work?” Charlotte Le Court hadn’t raised her hand.
Luanne ignored the oversight as she wrote on her list research Eastman Camera film.
“After all the film in the camera is exposed”—his voice was tinged with the most excitement Luanne had heard all morning—“the owner returns the camera to the Kodak Company in Rochester, New York. The film will be developed and prints made. Then new photographic film will be inserted, and then the camera and prints are returned to the customer. Not just a handful of prints. Each roll of film can have up to one hundred photographs!”
Luanne looked from Roy to the camera he’d drawn on the chalkboard. Instead of taking one or two photographs during a balloon flight, and having no guarantee either picture would turn out, he could take dozens. That would mean he’d have more pictures to sell, too. If he could earn more money selling pictures, then maybe he could stop balloon racing and settle down. He could start a family.
Several hands shot up into the air.
Roy pointed at Logan Lacy.
“Mr. Bennett, will having one of those new ones help you sell more magazine stories?”
“Yes, it would.”
“You probably then wouldn’t need to travel as much,” Luanne remarked, then cringed. What had she just said? Worse, did she have to sound so hopeful? She stopped cold. Dear heavens, he was going to think she wanted him to not travel so much . . . which meant settling down . . . which meant marrying.
He gave her a strange—albeit, warm—look, his head tilting ever so slightly to the side. “I never considered that, but I suppose I wouldn’t.”
Hearing a giggle, Luanne jolted to her feet. “Thank you, Mr. Bennett. You’ve been a wealth of information, but we have taken up enough of your time and have many things to do ourselves.” And now she could happily (and wisely) return to ignoring him between now and his forever departure from Helena.
Konrad Bullock’s hand went up. “Miss Palmer, may I ask one more question?”
Luanne couldn’t deny him. Not when his face shone and he bounced in his seat with unrestrained enthusiasm. “Go ahead.”
The boy slid out of his chair and stretched tall. Soon, he would be a man. And the moment his parents recognized it, they’d pull him from classes and put him to work full-time on the ranch.
“Mr. Bennett,” he said with an impressive amount of confidence, “would you be willing to help our class build a balloon?”
Chapter Six
“I’d love that.” Roy spread his hands to encompass the whole class. “What do you all think of that idea?”
The students erupted in cheers. It warmed his heart in places he didn’t know were cold until that moment. Easy to understand why Luanne said these kids were her life. He looked to her to share his delight.
Only she wasn’t smiling.
Uh-oh. What had he done wrong?
“But we’ll have to build it after school,” he rushed to clarify. “Miss Palmer has already allowed me to take up valuable classroom time.” Roy’s heart pinched tighter in response to Luanne’s scowl. What now? “And I’m sure Miss Palmer will be happy to join us so your parents feel comfortable allowing you to stay late with someone they consider a stranger.”
She looked daggers at him.
What was wrong with the woman? All he’d done was offer to help.
Ten hands shot into the air.
Roy pointed to the boy who’d pulled the world map down for him. “Yes?”
“Mr. Bennett, sir, what do we need to bring?”
Luanne shook her head. What was that supposed to mean? When her gaze shifted to the clock, Roy understood. “Lunch is about to start. How about after school, those of you who are interested, stay behind? I can answer any further questions at that time.” He waited for the other nine hands to go down. “Then, Miss Palmer and I will make a list of the supplies needed. Tomorrow in class you can sign up for what you can supply.”
That should get him out of whatever trouble he’d inadvertently gotten himself into.
Luanne stepped around her desk to stand next to him. She smelled of lilacs and chalk dust. “Let’s thank Mr. Bennett for his time, class.” As the students clapped, Luanne leaned close. “Bad form, Mr. Bennett.”
Bad form? How? She’d wanted to ignite her student’s enthusiasm. Had she missed the looks on their faces? They glowed with enthusiasm!
She strolled to the exit. “It’s five minutes before lunch, but you were so attentive to our guest speaker today, you may leave early.” She let the cheers erupt and die down. “You will walk like ladies and gentlemen in the hallways and hold your conversation until you reach the dining hall. Understood?”
“Yes, Miss Palmer” filled the room.
“All right, then. Gather your things and be sure to shake Mr. Bennett’s hand and tell him your favorite part of his lecture.”
Roy crossed to stand beside her, almost like they were in a wedding reception line. He smiled at the picture. As he accepted the students’ compliments, he kept some of his attention on Luanne. She offered every student a pat on the shoulder or a word of pr
aise for an excellent question. The kids adored her, and she them.
My students are my life.
But what about children of her own? All women wanted a home and family, didn’t they? At least Luanne did. He was sure of it. She’d be such a wonderful mother. As good as his was. Maybe even better.
Of course, children would put a damper on traveling around the globe, but they’d have at least nine months to figure that out after they married.
After the last student left, Luanne shut the door and turned to face him. He’d never seen such deep grooves between her eyebrows. “What were you thinking?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“As well you should.” She tromped past so quickly, she created a breeze.
“Look, I’m sorry if I spoke out of turn, but—”
“Spoke out of turn?” She stopped and spun around. In three steps she was in front of him, close enough to hug or slap him. “You think I’m angry because you spoke out of turn?” Her words vibrated with fury. “Do you have any idea of the obligation you’ve put me under? You’ve just promised my students something that may be impossible to deliver. I will need to secure permission from Professor Tate, from the Board of Trustees, from the janitor to store materials, and from parents who will want my head on a platter—and rightfully so—for not checking with them first. A teacher only gets so much goodwill in a year, and you’ve just used up all of mine in the second week of class.”
“Now, hold on a minute.” Righteous indignation heated his chest. “I did say you had to discuss this with their parents.”
“No, what you said was I would be happy to join your little after-school adventure so their parents felt comfortable. What is going to happen in three weeks when you leave and the balloon isn’t finished? All the responsibility is on my shoulders. Because that’s what you do—fly into town, entertain your whims, and poof, you’re off again on an adventure, leaving people to clean up your messes.” She fisted her hands and pressed them against her forehead. “How could you do this to me? I have obligations already lined up at church and the Ladies Aid Society. I can’t drop everything to play nanny while you fill my students’ heads with—”
“With what?” Roy threw his hand wide, fingers splayed. “With the notion that they can be more than just what their parents want them to be? Wasn’t that the whole idea? I recall you using that reasoning when you were trying to convince Geddes to speak to the class.”
She dropped her fists and glared at him. “Don’t you dare turn my words against me.”
Turn her words? He wasn’t turning anything. He was using her own logic, for crying out loud! He pivoted on his heel, stomped to the door, and snatched his coat and hat off the rack. “I’m sorry you see it that way. I’ll see you after class, Miss Palmer.”
“Mr. Bennett.”
The door almost caught his coat she closed it so fast.
Roy slammed his derby hat on his head and stomped down the hallway. A bell rang, and the hallway flooded with eager, hungry faces.
Oh, to be young and free of any care except what was packed inside your lunch bucket.
He waded against the tide of children until he pushed through a door to the outside. The fresh air felt cool against his cheeks. A walk would do him good. He headed away from the Palmer house. Three blocks wasn’t long enough to diffuse his anger.
Because that’s what you do—fly into town, entertain your whims, and poof, you’re off again on an adventure, leaving people to clean up your messes. Entertain his whims? Messes? What kind of man did she think he was? He’d done exactly what she wanted. Exactly! And she was angry at him for it?
Women! Did God make them contrary as part of His curse on Adam?
Roy inhaled the crisp, Montana air and exhaled with a whoosh.
Maybe she had a point about obligating her to something she wasn’t sure she could deliver, but how was he supposed to know that a simple offer to help required so much petty bureaucracy? Frankly, getting permission seemed rather a small thing when compared to building an entire balloon. Especially when his time was so limited! But how could he say no to the enthusiasm on those young faces?
His own life was forever changed by the man who had introduced him to ballooning. Roy’s father—a good man and fine example for other things—didn’t understand the lure of the sky or the romance of travel. Had Roy followed his father’s advice and kept his feet on solid ground, he’d have missed grand adventures and glorious sights. When that tall boy had asked if Roy would help build a balloon, he saw his younger self begging for the opportunity to be more, to do more . . . to fly!
If Luanne had trouble getting the proper permissions, he’d find a way to deliver on his promise. And if she did get permission, he’d be the best volunteer she’d ever seen. Roy Almonzo Bennett left no messes in his wake!
The telegraph office came into view. Mr. Palmer had offered to help. Maybe he understood his daughter’s disproportionate reaction. Roy jogged across the street, then ducked inside the two-story building.
Mr. Palmer was busy with the sheriff, so Roy sauntered over to the back office entrance where Geddes stood. “What’s going on?”
Geddes shook his head. “A girl’s gone missing. No one knows if she ran off or was kidnapped.”
“From a good family?”
Geddes leaned close and turned his head to speak directly in Roy’s ear. “Brothel girl. Young enough to be one of Lu’s students, I think. Makes me sick to my stomach.”
The innocent faces of the girls in Luanne’s class sent a surge of protectiveness through Roy’s veins. “Do they need help looking for her? I could take the balloon up, if I knew where to look.”
Geddes shrugged. “Posse went out Thursday night and came back today empty. Sheriff is wiring a message to all the nearby towns to be on the lookout for her.” He pulled Roy deeper into the back office. “What are you doing here? I thought you were lecturing Lu’s class?”
Roy sat on the edge of Geddes’s desk and filled him in on the details of the entire debacle. “I don’t understand why your sister was that upset.”
“Give her time. She’ll cool down in about an hour. She always does.” Geddes picked up a pencil stub and rolled it between his fingers. “How are you going to make a whole balloon in three weeks?”
“Figured I’d start with things that won’t be legal to use in this race. I’ve got a few spare parts I carry around with me, and I’m sure some of the other racers trickling into town would be happy to let me borrow stuff they either can’t use because of the race parameters or because it needs repair.” Roy imagined the look on Luanne’s face when she realized he was prepared to fulfill his promise both in time and materials. The surge of satisfaction was followed by a twinge of shame. This wasn’t a competition . . . although it sure felt like it.
“Does the class want to enter their balloon in the race?”
“Heavens no. Your sister almost choked on the idea of letting them build a balloon. She’d never agree to let them race one.” Roy took off his hat and fanned his face. The action wasn’t entirely for show.
Geddes laughed. “She’d wrap those kids of hers in bolts of cloth to keep them from getting hurt.” He shot a glance over at his father and the sheriff, who were still talking. “Where you off to now?”
Geddes’s look—the one that said, “I’d rather be anywhere than here”—was the reason Roy loved his life. Sure, loneliness chased him from one side of the globe to the other, but he’d never marry someone for such a selfish reason. He wanted a true companion. Someone whose love of travel rivaled his own. Someone who made him think, made him better . . . made him do things because they were kind.
Which meant he needed to make things right with Luanne and be quick about it.
Roy doubted Geddes was right about Luanne cooling down in an hour or so. Her brother hadn’t seen her face. Roy looked to Sheriff Simpson and Mr. Palmer. Another conversation with Luanne’s father was in order, but now clearly wasn’t the right time.
After saying good-bye to Geddes, Roy fitted the hat on his head and strode in the direction of the Palmer house. He needed to make sure “lack of materials” wasn’t added to the list of faults against him.
Chapter Seven
Later that evening
Luanne sipped her coffee, looking over the rim at Mr. and Mrs. J. P. Fisk sitting on the settee across from the chairs where she and Mrs. Hollenbeck sat. She couldn’t think of a time anyone had ever visited the Palmer residence on a Monday night. Or Tuesday, Wednesday, or Thursday. And never—never—had anyone from the Board of Trustees ever come to visit. Considering Roy’s foolish agreement to build a balloon, and their heated argument, rumors had to be swirling.
Was there ever a good rumor?
Mother sailed into the room with a china platter of sliced fruitcake in one hand and her best ivory damask napkins in the other. “We are so pleased you are all here.” She rested the platter and napkins on the coffee table between the settee and chairs. Her gaze shifted nervously to the wall left of the fireplace, to where the faded wallpaper was peeling. “Yes, this is a delightful surprise! If I had known—uh . . . well . . .” She grinned at the Fisks to cover the embarrassment Luanne knew she was feeling over such affluent guests in her aging parlor. “Mr. Palmer says times like this are why everyone should have a fruitcake in the cupboard. It’s fresh. Yancey baked it last week. Her cooking skills have improved greatly since the school social. Please eat.”
No one did.
“Mrs. Palmer,” Mr. Fisk said in a commanding voice, more suited to a preacher than a man who made his fortune buying and selling land, “if you don’t mind, we wish to speak to your daughter alone.”
“Oh, yes, of course, of course.” Mother’s gaze flitted to Luanne and then Mrs. Hollenbeck before she hurried out of the room as quickly as she came.
Luanne tensed. This couldn’t be good. If Wilber had told them the class was building a hot air balloon—But there wasn’t going to be one! She’d made that abundantly clear after her students returned from lunch. Including that Roy Bennett had overstepped his bounds and that what he agreed to do was impossible to accomplish. Besides, even if it was, no parent would give permission, nor would Professor Tate. Certainly not a Board of Trustees that refused to grant permission for her to take her class on a walking tour to the Last Chance Gulch.