Jeb’s brows shot up, furrowing his brow. “Miss Nevermind, eh? I thought you weren’t doing the auditions like the rest of us.”
“I’m not.” Drew swiped his lips with his napkin. “I’m going back to school. See you at dinner, Jeb.”
Drew paid the bill and ventured to Stevens Mercantile to buy a few items first. His meeting with the teacher wasn’t scheduled until nine, leaving him plenty of time to complete some tasks.
Already, townsfolk were decorating for tonight’s Founder’s Day celebration. He waved to the mayor, Miss Melton, as well as the sheriff who always seemed to be watching her with a possessive eye, and ambled toward the schoolhouse, where he set to work.
Drew had plugged three large holes with a mixture of lime and sand before footsteps—more than one pair—sounded on the gravel path to the schoolhouse.
He craned his neck to smile at Miss Green and her young companions, the three girls with red, braided pigtails he’d seen with her at the schoolhouse yesterday. “How do you do, ladies?”
“What are you doing?” The littlest girl squatted beside him.
“Daubing the wall so no vermin get in.”
She leaped back, smack into the middle sister. “Mice-th!”
“Mice are everywhere, Minnie.” The sister rolled her eyes. “We don’t see ’em at home because Diggory’s such a good rat catcher.”
Miss Green mounted the porch. “Mr. Cooper, these are the Lomaxes—Polly, Mary Ann, and Minnie. Girls, say hello to Mr. Cooper. Now what’s this about mice?”
Drew rose from his haunches for the greetings before pointing down to the holes. “I couldn’t help noticing these holes yesterday. Seemed I could fix them right fast, so I did. Hope I didn’t set anyone’s dander up.”
“Certainly not mine. What a clean job you’ve done of it, too.” She glanced down at his daub-work. “It’s thoughtful of you, although you have no obligation to earn the borrowing of the book.” She smiled and pulled a leather volume from the gold-and-green brocade satchel she carried. Gold lettering on the spine announced the author: Shakespeare. “I brought you sonnets. Do you enjoy poetry?”
“I don’t know, but I aim to find out.” He added the last bit of lime-and-sand mixture to the hole.
Three pairs of footsteps retreated down the stairs to the yard, toward the swings. The girls must not be admirers of Shakespeare. Drew chuckled.
Miss Green leaned against the schoolhouse wall. “I’m sure you’ve heard of several of these. Sonnet 18 is quite famous. ‘Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate.’”
Romantic words.
“I’m not sure.” Drew tasted the words in his mind. “What does he mean by temperate? Like the weather on a day like today, pleasant and comfortable?”
“Precisely. The object of the sonnet is more pleasant and comfortable than a day like today, when the sun is warm and the temperature fine.” She twisted a key in the stubborn-sounding lock. Clearly, it gave her as much trouble now as it had the previous day.
“May I?” He rose and held out his hand.
“By all means.” She stepped back.
The locking mechanism was troublesome, all right. He twisted and yanked before the door opened. “I’ll fix this for you.”
“That’s kind, Mr. Cooper, but not necessary. The school board is aware of our maintenance needs, and …” Her voice trailed off as she stepped inside the schoolroom and sighed, her gaze taking in the space.
Drew paused behind her. Aside from the slight untidiness of books waiting to be put away, the room was clean and orderly, but there were signs of chronic disrepair from top to bottom. Brown water stains splotched the ceiling. The walls required a coat of paint, and a few loose planks caused potential hazards underfoot.
He removed his hat. “Looks like the school board has been a little busy, Miss Green, but I happen to have a hammer on me.” A brand-new one, too.
“Nonsense. You’re here for a book. One moment.” She swept past him to lean out the door. “Girls? Come help, please, in case of a surprise inspection today. Polly, will you sweep? Mary Ann, put away the primers, and Minnie, clean the blackboard. Thank you.”
Did the school board really check in, unannounced, on weekends? From the tight set of Birdy Green’s jaw, Drew suspected they did indeed.
Well, he’d help, too. “Hold up on the sweeping for a minute, Miss Polly.”
The redhead hadn’t even touched the broom yet, but she nodded.
He trotted outside to retrieve the box of tools he’d purchased, returning to squat at the loose floorboards with the hammer and nails. “I’ll be done in a jiffy.”
“How kind of you. I didn’t notice the loose plank until Nancy McGee tripped yesterday.” Miss Green set the book of Shakespeare on the desk and moved to the blackboard.
“She wasn’t hurt, was she?” Drew pried out the loose nail.
“No, thankfully.” She drew a diagram of a corn plant on the side of the blackboard Minnie had cleaned. While Drew worked, he snuck glances at the dainty teacher as she labeled it: ROOTS. STALK. EAR. LEAF. SILK. She had impressive penmanship, but then again, she was a schoolmarm. It was probably a job requirement.
Mary Ann, the one putting away primers, paused by Drew’s side. “Tell us if you find something underneath. I thought I saw Opie hide something in there.”
“Oh dear.” Miss Green spun around, chalk in hand.
Knowing boys, it could be anything. Drew snuck a finger under the board. Sure enough, something solid met his touch. He extracted a cream-colored square flecked with bluish-green. “Opie doesn’t like cheese?”
Minnie squealed. Mary Ann gagged. Polly shuddered, and Miss Green dashed toward him with a dustpan. “Opie is seven. He doesn’t like anything except dessert.”
“I’m th-even, too, and I eat chee-th.” Minnie lifted her chin then eyed the cheese. “But maybe not that kind.”
Drew couldn’t blame anyone for preferring to hide the cheese rather than eat it. It reminded him of food he’d had to eat during the war.
“The McGees are struggling to eat,” Miss Green whispered to Drew while he dropped the cheese onto the pan with a metallic clink. “His mother, Jenny, is a widow.”
Drew nodded, returning to the task of sealing up Opie’s hiding spot. “The war left a bitter legacy.”
Finished with the blackboard, Minnie leaned on the desk closest to him. “It took our Pa.”
He’d guessed as much. “I’m sorry.”
“Are you here to marry our ma?”
The hammer fell out of his hand. Miss Green spun around again. “Minnie.”
“Ma is real nice,” Mary Ann added. “And you’re good with tools. Our house needs fixing, bad.” She glanced at her teacher. “Badly.”
Polly clutched the broom. “She’s a good cook, too.”
“That’s enough, girls.” Miss Green’s usual pale complexion mottled pink, but the girls looked at him, awaiting his answer. Drew screwed the lid on the nail jar, choosing his words carefully. “I met your ma yesterday, brief-like, and she seemed like a fine woman, but I didn’t come to Kansas for the auditions.”
“Briefly,” Mary Ann muttered.
“Why’d you come, then?” Minnie sidled up to him, smelling of something fruity, like she’d had jam for breakfast.
These Lomax girls sure weren’t shy. Miss Green opened her mouth, but Drew held up a hand. Some might think children should be seen and not heard, but Drew had never believed that. Instead he thought people who asked honest questions, children included, deserved honest answers.
“The ad drew me to Kansas, all right, but I’m looking for ranch land and a fresh start.” Not love. “See, my family isn’t as close is yours is. My brother was mad as a hornet when I joined the Union army, like your pa did.”
Minnie patted his shoulder in a sweet, gentle gesture. “Did he die, too?”
“No. He’s back on the homestead.”
Mary Ann frowned, but then she tu
rned her expectant gaze on Miss Green. “Can we go home yet? I want to get ready for the Founder’s Day celebration.”
“Go play while Mr. Cooper and I finish up.” Miss Green tipped her head toward the door. Once the girls were outside, she leaned against her desk. “I’m sorry for the girls’ impertinence.”
“They’re curious, is all. It’s all right if you want to ask me something, too.” From the way she chewed her bottom lip, it was clear she was as curious as Minnie.
She lasted a whole ten seconds before she cleared her throat. “Did you leave Tennessee because of your brother?”
“Yes.” He packed up the tools.
“You couldn’t reconcile?”
“I wanted to, but it didn’t work out.”
“It must have been awkward, with you having fought on opposite sides.”
“Awkward isn’t the word I’d use.” He barked out a humorless laugh. “Clement preferred to see me dead than back at home.”
Her gulp was audible. “Dead?”
Drew offered a smile to lessen the sting of his brother’s threat, but he couldn’t quite meet her eyes. “He said he’d kill me if I didn’t leave Tennessee.”
Chapter 3
Birdy’s hand went to her throat. Mr. Cooper’s own brother threatened to murder him? She struggled for words, but none of the usual platitudes seemed appropriate. She settled for the words on her tongue.
“That’s horrible.”
“It was.”
“Surely your brother didn’t mean it.”
“I’m sure you’re right, but at the time, he had a hammer in his hand. I thought it best not to stay and tempt him to sin.” Mr. Cooper offered a small smile, as if to lighten the gravity of his words.
His smile didn’t fool her a lick. All it convinced her of was he loved his brother but didn’t wish to disparage him, just like he hadn’t wished to challenge Mr. Toovey and embarrass Frieda publicly yesterday. That spoke volumes for his character—and put her to shame for the humiliating scene she’d caused at the auditions. Frieda had been correct. For all her good intentions, Birdy had been merciless.
Her stomach swooped. She’d set things right with Frieda, but at this moment, Mr. Cooper stood in front of her, unquestionably wounded by his brother’s actions. She couldn’t dare ignore his pain.
Beyond a handshake, she hadn’t touched a man since Pa died, and it felt strange, but she laid her fingers on Mr. Cooper’s forearm. “I’m sure your brother regrets his words, but I can’t imagine the pain they must have caused you.”
“I didn’t expect it, after so long. See, I stayed with the army after the war, so I didn’t return home until a few months ago. We’d paid neighbors to run the farm in our absence, but it didn’t hold up well. Clement came home to a mess to deal with all by himself. After our reunion, for lack of a better word, I stayed in the county, living with my Aunt Lou, hoping to make peace, but he wanted nothing to do with me. Our parents passed a long time ago, and I reckoned it was time to try something new.” He lifted the volume of Shakespeare sonnets. “Like book learning and trying my hand at ranching, which I always wanted to do.”
She couldn’t help but admire his attitude. They weren’t so different, in that they were still grappling with the effects of the war. They’d both lost their homes and their brothers, in one way or another.
She was also impressed by his desire to improve himself by studying. She’d do all she could to help him. “I hope you enjoy the sonnets. Shall we meet when you’re finished to discuss your thoughts?”
His brows rose. “That’s right kind of you, ma’am.”
“Write down any questions that cross your mind or words you don’t know. Here, borrow a clean slate and chalk. I have a surplus.” She handed him a small board and chalk stick. The symbolism of the gesture struck her, since the slate represented his determination to start fresh.
He nodded his thanks. “See you at the Founder’s Day celebration?”
She chewed her lip. “I’m not sure. I need to speak to Frieda—Mrs. Lomax—about yesterday. I shouldn’t have caused a scene.”
“Maybe not, but you love your friend, and she’s blessed to have you.”
His words were like balm, as comforting as a hug. “Thank you.”
How unexpected to have found something like a friend in Mr. Cooper.
Birdy was also blessed to have Frieda. After Mr. Cooper left, she called the girls from the swings and walked the short distance home.
“Sorry we asked Mr. Cooper about the audition,” Mary Ann said, walking backward in front of Birdy. “But he knows how to fix things.”
“And he’th handthome.” Minnie skipped ahead.
“He sure is.” Polly giggled. “Do you think so, Aunt Birdy?”
Birdy’s stomach flipped over. “Handsome is as handsome does.”
“Yes, but don’t you think he has lovely eyes?”
Birdy had noticed, not that she’d admit that to Polly. “You’re thirteen, Polly.”
Polly twirled one of her braids around her finger. “It’s an observation, is all, and Ma was fourteen when she starting courting Pa.”
True, and Birdy was sixteen when she realized Emory watched her from under his fringed lashes—but Polly seemed so young! “Observing is fine, but he’s too old for you.”
“Oh, I know he’s old.” Polly rolled her eyes. “He’s probably your age.”
Birdy bit back a laugh.
As they turned in at the gate, Birdy could make out the bob of Frieda’s wide sunbonnet as she bent in the kitchen garden. Diggory ran up, jumping around their legs.
“Let’s see the piglets,” Polly beckoned.
“I’m going to help your mother.” As the girls and terrier ran around the house, Birdy ambled to Frieda’s side, crouched in the dirt, and dug out a dandelion with her fingers. “Are you saving these for tea or a salad?”
“Yes. They go there.” Frieda pointed to a small basket. “Careful, though, or you’re going to need a bath before the Founder’s Day celebration.”
At least Frieda was speaking to her, although she didn’t look up.
“I’ll stay home.” Birdy tapped the loose dirt off the roots. “The kitchen floor needs a good scrub.”
“Chores aren’t part of your agreement with the school board. If they knew you fed pigs and picked weeds, they would disapprove.”
“I help because I want to, even when I do more harm than good.” Birdy reached for Frieda’s gloved hand and clasped it. “You were right yesterday. I’m sorry for embarrassing and hurting you. But please believe me, I support you in this audition process. I didn’t participate myself because, well …” She shrugged.
“Because of Emory.” Frieda squeezed her hand.
Birdy allowed herself a moment of grief. “I miss him.”
“I miss Hank, too.” Frieda’s grip didn’t lessen. “But I’m ready to open my heart again. Hank wouldn’t mind, I don’t think.”
Emory might understand Birdy marrying, too, but Birdy didn’t dare consider it. It would be a betrayal against her family—
“I don’t think your pa would mind, either, Birdy—”
“We are talking about you and finding you a husband. The town is still full of bachelors. Plenty will be at the Founder’s Day celebration.”
Frieda chuckled. “We’ll see.”
“You and the girls have fun. You deserve it.” And Birdy could use the time to think while she saw to long-overdue chores.
“Thank you.” Frieda hugged her and then stripped off her gloves. “You’ll need these.”
Birdy donned the warm, damp gloves. Talking about whether or not Pa would mind Birdy marrying anyone but Emory soured her stomach, but being in harmony with Frieda again made her happy enough to ignore the ache and sing while she worked.
She was still singing snatches of hymns under her breath three days later when she lingered at the schoolhouse after dismissing the students. The day was so fine, she left the door open to admit a gentle, warm b
reeze that promised summer. Rather than rushing home to do chores, some of the students remained in the yard, playing and chattering. Birdy paused in the doorway, her heart swelling with affection as they darted over the bluestem grass. Clyde McGee, Opie’s brother, appeared to be It in a game of tag, but oh! Then he caught Leonard Tumbleston after a valiant chase. The game, which included the Lomax girls, continued off school property and into the street before breaking up as the students headed home.
Birdy retreated inside. She’d told Frieda she wouldn’t linger overlong at the schoolhouse so she could attempt to fix the front door at home. First, however, she must compile assignments for the four Stevens boys, who studied at home since the snake incident when the school board suspended them from school. She was stacking the papers when the sound of boot steps ascending the stairs made her turn.
Drew Cooper strode in through the open door, her volume of Shakespeare and the slate in one hand and a tool box in the other. He wore a blue-striped shirt that made his eyes look bright as the summer sky. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”
“Not at all. Finished with the book already?”
“I am. I thought I’d return it and fix your lock, too.”
“There’s no need for an exchange of services, Mr. Cooper.”
“My name’s Drew, and I’m just being neighborly. Your lock needs fixing.”
She’d be a prideful fool to say no to a willing man with tools in hand. “Thank you … Drew.” Saying his name made her face warm. “I’m Roberta. Birdy.”
His smile revealed his dimples and made her cheeks grow hotter. “You sing like a birdie, too. I heard you when I came in. You have a lovely voice.”
Oh dear. “I didn’t mean to be loud.”
“You weren’t.” He set down the tools. “I liked it. One of my favorite hymns. Believe me, during the war there wasn’t much opportunity to hear a lady sing, just a bunch of soldiers singing ‘Lorena’ over and over.”
Birdy laughed. “It’s a nice song.”
“The first fifty times, maybe.” He handed her the slate and the book. “I wrote down a few words I didn’t understand, but if you’re busy, I’m happy to fix the lock and be on my way.”
Seven Brides for Seven Mail-Order Husbands Romance Collection Page 18