Chapter Six
The Cold Springs church had not been built to house the number of people who filled it for Rev. Andrews’s sermon the next morning. A new, larger church was planned for that summer, but in the meantime scores of men and women in their Sunday best sat shoulder to shoulder in the worn pews. More were crammed into folding chairs along the sides of the large room and in the back. A few of the children had been allowed to sit at the front around the podium from which Rev. Andrews delivered his sermon. Their squirming added an air of restlessness to the morning.
Lily sat on a narrow chair against the wall, wedged between Miss Viola Jones and another of her boarding housemates, Miss Jessica Bunsick. Sweat from the overheated room dripped down her back and stained her bodice. She watched the citizens of Cold Springs instead of listening to the sermon. How many of them thought like Samuel Kuhn?
How many would assume that Indians were responsible for the recent robberies and take their anger out on her? What if Christian was right about the ripples caused by having the Flathead children at the school?
“Therefore, it is our duty as citizens of Cold Springs and brothers and sisters in the Lord’s kingdom to treat each other with Christian charity.” Rev. Andrews addressed his congregation. “We must approach each other with kindness and humility, in times of fellowship and in times of competition.”
She focused on the children around Rev. Andrews to calm her fraying nerves. One of the Frye girls leaned close to the Twitchel girl sitting next to her, whispering in her ear. Both girls giggled. The Frye girl caught her watching. Lily shook her head slightly and the girl slapped a hand over her mouth. Her bright, child’s eyes glittered with guilt. She knew she shouldn’t, but Lily smiled at the girl and was rewarded with a gap-toothed grin in return.
What if Samuel followed through on his threat to have her removed as a teacher at Cold Springs’s school? Miserable prickles raced along her skin. It was all she could do not to writhe and weep and jump to her feet to plead with people to see reason. Without teaching, she didn’t know who she was.
Before she could burst into tears at the thought, she felt the unmistakable itch of being watched. Across the aisle, at least a dozen church members between them, Christian was studying her as if she was the sermon. His expression was neutral, but it was still enough to burn her cheeks as bright red as the Frye girl’s. His lips twitched, but if it was with a grin or a sneeze Lily wasn’t in the mood to find out. She snapped her attention to Rev. Andrews.
“And so, let us pray for God’s guidance in our lives,” Rev. Andrews finished. “Amen.”
The congregation repeated, “Amen.” The organ burst to life with the final hymn, and somehow Lily managed to rise to her feet. As Miss Jones thumbed through the hymnal they shared, Lily checked on Christian. He wore a full-blown smile now. His shoulders shook with laughter, too much for him to sing. Her heart sank. He was laughing at her.
“Ahem.” Miss Jones cleared her throat, handing Lily the hymnal at a height that blocked Christian from her view.
The gesture would have been mortifying if Lily hadn’t been so eager for just that kind of barrier. She held the hymnal in front of her and fumbled through the trite old hymn that she didn’t know. Every note she missed and word she fumbled reminded her that she was not one of these people, that they would turn on her as Samuel had suggested given half a chance.
When the song ended, before the congregation could funnel to the door, Rev. Andrews raised his hands, calling for silence.
“If those parents and townsfolk who have volunteered to help out with the school’s academic games could stay behind, we’re going to pick teams this morning and discuss the rules,” he said.
A squeal of excitement rose from the children. The room swirled with activity as most of the congregation attempted to leave while a few, like Lily, tried to push their way to the front against the current. Conversations blossomed, filling the church with as much noise as there had been heat. Lily kept her head down, feeling as separate from the people around her as she was from the Atlantic Ocean.
“Did you hear about the robberies?” she overheard a woman in the press of people. “A gang of savage Indians robbed Samuel Kuhn and Lewis Jones in broad daylight!”
“You don’t say!” another woman answered. “Indians? I thought the ones near here were peaceful?”
“You can never tell with Indians.”
“That teacher, Miss Singer, is all right.”
“She’s an Indian? But she seems so nice.”
The heat of anger and shame work its way up Lily’s neck. She stopped to look for the source of the comments, ready to give them a piece of her mind.
A confused and bumbling Jed Archer blocked her path. He flinched at the sight of her, his pale face flushing.
“I…I…I’m sorry, Miss Singer,” he said, then scrambled to get away from her and out the church’s side door.
The shock of frightening a grown man left Lily standing where she was, gaping. First Samuel Kuhn and the people at the store, then the women she had just overheard, and now Jed Archer. If Christian was right….
No, he was not even close to right. She drew in a breath and smoothed her skirts as though smoothing her nerves. Prejudice was common, but there was a solution. She was a teacher, no matter what opinions Samuel Kuhn held. It was within her power to teach fairness and equality, starting right where she was.
She pushed on to the front of the church, picking her way through the last of the conversations still going on.
“I told Jed he should volunteer to help out with the games,” Miss Archer was saying to Miss Jones as Lily passed, “but he claims he’s busy. Like he has anything to do but visit the saloon these days. Though where he gets the money I don’t know. Mother gives it to him on the sly, I guess.” She sniffed to show just what she thought of that.
The two women noticed Lily. Miss Archer, barely five feet tall, looked Lily up and down, then tilted her chin up and turned away without moving an inch.
Lily frowned and stepped around her. She nearly ran into Jessica Bunsick in the process. A tall, ginger-haired man had hold of one of her hands, though the two tried to conceal it.
“Ssh!” Jessica leaned closer to her. “Don’t tell Miss Jones where I’ve gone. She wouldn’t approve.” She glanced over her shoulder at her beau. Both broke into guilty grins that left no doubt what they were up to.
“I won’t say a thing,” Lily said.
“Thanks!”
As Jessica and the man slipped toward the side door, Jessica winked at Lily. The unexpectedly friendly gesture threw Lily off-balance. She and Jessica had lived under the same roof for months and were not unfriendly, but her wink was conspiratorial, as if they were friends. But she was a teacher. Teachers didn’t need friends.
She was still puzzling over it as she reached the first row of pews.
“I saved a seat for you right here, Miss Singer,” Christian scooted to the side and patted the space he vacated. “I knew you would want to be front and center for this.”
Without thinking, Lily took the seat. The scent of cedar and tobacco made her heart beat faster. The seat was warm, heating her further. The grin on Christian’s face when she glanced to him didn’t help her raw nerves. The room buzzed with hurtful gossip about Indians, Jessica had treated her as a friend, and Christian was grinning at her as if it were a peaceful and pleasant Sunday.
She had felt safe in his arms. Maybe if she found herself in them again, the rest of the confusion and turmoil would go away. Maybe….
“I can’t do this.” She rose. “I must discuss the teams with Mr. Prescott.”
She marched ahead through the thinning crowd to where Hal Prescott stood chatting with Rev. Andrews, shaking her head to clear it. She wouldn’t look back. Christian’s grin would only irritate her, and with so many townspeople around, she had to keep her wits about her. There was too much to prove and too much to lose.
“Mr. Prescott, may I speak to you be
fore we begin?” she asked.
“Yes, Miss Singer.” Neither Mr. Prescott nor Rev. Andrews seemed to mind the interruption. “I was just telling Rev. Andrews here how instrumental you’ve been in organizing these games. Miss Singer brought the idea with her from the school where she taught in Chicago.”
Lily blinked under the unexpected praise. Nothing about this morning was what she expected.
“What a wonderful idea to bring with you, Miss Singer,” Rev. Andrews said. “The whole town is looking forward to it.”
“Mr. Prescott, I have a request for you about the teams,” she began, not knowing how to address the compliment.
“Anything you need, Miss Singer.” Mr. Prescott smiled.
Lily glanced from him to Rev. Andrews. They would think she was a fool. They would think she was breaking the rules. Perhaps she should keep silent and let fate take its course.
“Good morning, Hal, Reverend.” Christian crept up behind her. “Lovely morning, isn’t it.”
He touched the small of her back. It was only for the briefest of moments, but the shock of energy that shot through her jolted her and strengthened her resolve.
“Mr. Prescott, I would like to request that all of the Flathead children attending our school, Red Sun Boy, Martha, Henry Otter, and Sees The Clouds, be assigned to the team I will coach.”
Mr. Prescott met her request with a blank expression. “Oh. We had discussed picking teams the old fashioned way, hadn’t we?” He gestured to his wife. She sat in the second pew holding an old top hat and neat bundles of slips of paper with each student’s name written on them.
“I think it’s a grand idea,” Christian said.
“Oh?”
“Yes. Especially since Miss Singer and I have a little side-bet going.”
Mr. Prescott turned to her, one eyebrow arched.
She could have stomped on Christian’s foot. He was making her look like a fool.
Safe in Christian’s arms? More likely it was a trap to lull her into complacency.
“Mr. Avery believes the Flathead children are a danger to the peace and discipline of the school and the town by extension. I wish to prove to him that all children, regardless of race, can work together and win.”
Mr. Prescott’s smile grew. “What a noble idea.” He glanced to Christian and his expression shifted to teasing. “Is that why you volunteered to coach a team?”
Christian had the gall to look sheepish. “Yes.”
Mr. Prescott chuckled. “Let’s see what the other coaches and judges think. Ladies and gentlemen.” He turned to the now mostly empty church and gestured for the remaining parents and townspeople to be seated.
Christian attempted to escort Lily back to his pew. She dodged away from him and took a seat at the far end. Michael and Charlie West with their baby, Phineas Bell, and Eric and Amelia Quinlan and their baby sat between them. It still wasn’t enough of a barrier.
Across the aisle, Samuel Kuhn and his wife sat with two other couples she recognized as parents of younger students. They were all new to town and dressed in fine clothes. They had their heads together, whispering and glaring at her, disapproval on display along with their wealth.
“Welcome,” Mr. Prescott began. “I know you’re all eager to get home to your Sunday dinners, so I’ll make this quick. We’re here today to prepare for Friday’s academic games. Mr. Michael West has agreed to stand up as our moderator on Friday night. His wife, Charlie, Amelia Quinlan—who you know used to be a governess in England—Phineas Bell, and Angus and Sadie McGee have agreed to be judges and to put together a list of questions for the competition.”
The assembled parents and townspeople nodded. Eric Quinlan gave his wife a proud smile and rested his arm around her shoulder. She returned his affection with genuine fondness. A hint of longing tugged at Lily’s heart. She glanced to Christian before she could stop herself, only to find him staring at her.
She snapped her full attention to Mr. Prescott.
“Now, before we pick teams, Miss Singer has made a request.”
Everyone present looked at her. She sat up and kept her expression neutral.
“She has asked that the four Flathead children attending our school be assigned to her team as a sort of social experiment.”
Lily flushed. She heard murmurs in the pew behind her.
“We have Indian children at the school?” Lucinda Frye asked.
“Don’t worry, we are working to get rid of them,” Samuel answered. His wife gave him an approving pat on the arm. Lily’s skin crawled.
“Oh, I didn’t mean that,” Mrs. Frye said. “I just didn’t know was all.”
“Is that legal?” one of the women sitting on the pew with the Kuhns asked.
“Yes,” Christian answered over-forcefully. “It is.”
The woman who had asked the question balked. “Well, it shouldn’t be.”
“Do you have objections to all children of color attending the Cold Springs school?” Hattie Wright spoke up from the pew directly behind the woman.
The woman turned to face her and flinched hard at the sight of Hattie’s dark skin. “Why, n-no,” she stuttered.
“Then I fail to see how it makes a difference,” Hattie told her.
“The presence of these four children at our school is not an issue for debate,” Mr. Prescott said, suddenly serious. “Miss Singer has made a request and I, for one, am inclined to grant it. I wanted to check with you all first though.”
The parents hummed. “I don’t see why not,” one spoke up.
“It’s not like anyone else will want those dirty savages on their team,” one of the men in the Kuhn’s pew muttered.
Lily held herself together with rigid force. The urge to lecture Samuel and his friends about equality and the rights guaranteed to all people under the law had her gripping the pew to keep from jumping to her feet. Christian was still watching her, his protective frown worse than his smarmy grin. That alone kept her from doing something rash.
“Then if there is no objection,” Mr. Prescott said.
“I object!” Samuel raised his hand. “I object to those children and that teacher polluting our school!” His wife and friends nodded in adamant agreement.
Mr. Prescott sighed. “That issue is not on the table, Mr. Kuhn, and I’ve no interest in going around and around on it.”
Samuel stood. “How can you turn a blind eye to the crime spree that has swept our fair town due to the presence of those Indians?”
Half a dozen voices rose in protest at the same time, Christian’s loudest amongst them.
“Those were not Indians who robbed you, Samuel,” he said. “I was there. I saw them.”
“But what about the station house?” Mrs. Frye asked.
“No one saw who robbed it.”
“It was probably the same Indians,” Samuel said.
“It wasn’t Indians!”
“Friends, friends, settle down!” Rev. Andrews intervened. Those who had stood resumed their seats. “This isn’t a political meeting. Let the law handle lawlessness and let us focus on the school and the children.”
His words were met with nods and approval.
Lily couldn’t let the issue rest. Heart pounding against her ribs, she rose and turned to face Samuel.
“Mr. Kuhn, you seem to be under the misapprehension that native children, and perhaps adults, are ignorant and dull.”
“They are, Miss Singer. Science has proven it.” He crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes.
“I respectfully disagree, and I will prove it to you.”
She took a step forward and turned to face the two dozen or so parents and townspeople. Christian watched her anxiously. She cleared her throat.
“I have asked to have the Flathead children on my team for the academic games as a way to prove that Indian and white children can work together peacefully and excel.” She flickered a glance to Christian. Her pulse raced with the recklessness of her convictions. “I will take that w
ager one step forward. I believe that a team comprised of all races of children will win these games. If they do not win outright, then I will not try to stop any efforts to remove the Flathead children from our school.”
Samuel rose, the light of triumph in her eyes. “You’re saying that if your lot don’t win, they’ll leave the school?”
“Samuel, I said the issue was not up for discussion,” Mr. Prescott said.
“It’s all right, Mr. Prescott.” Lily nodded to him. “It won’t come to that because my team will win.”
“Then I accept the wager.” Samuel beamed as though he’d already won.
The room buzzed with murmurs and excitement.
“Are you sure, Miss Singer?” Mr. Prescott asked her.
No, she wasn’t. She was reckless and impetuous. Her temper had gotten the better of her, and now she was playing with other people’s lives.
“Yes, Mr. Prescott. I am.”
“Then if there are no other objections….”
Christian leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, to scold Lily with a frown. He knew she’d flown off half-cocked as well as she did, and it was mortifying.
“It’s settled.” Mr. Prescott shrugged and gestured for his wife to bring him the top hat and names. “Let’s pick the rest of the teams, shall we?”
Lily forced herself to breathe as attention shifted from her to Mr. Prescott and Rev. Andrews. She snuck a peek at Christian. He didn’t approve. Why should he? She didn’t approve herself. She should have known better than to speak without thinking. If she lost now, she would never forgive herself.
Chapter Seven
“Two and eight are sixteen, two and nine are eighteen and two and ten are twenty,” Lionel Twitchel finished his times table with a satisfied grin.
“Good, good,” Christian told the boy, although if two times was as far as he could get, they were in trouble.
“Mr. Avery?” Lionel asked.
“What, son?”
“Can I go to the bathroom?”
Christian sighed. “Yes. We’ve only got five minutes left anyhow.”
In Your Arms (Montana Romance) Page 7