“I have the time.”
The animals at home could wait a few more minutes. She examined his list. “Ah yes, most of these are antiquated words we don’t use anymore. Let’s consult the dictionary.”
She patted the back of the spare chair at her desk and she sat beside him, pushing the thick dictionary between them. The faint, pleasant smell of bay rum met her nose, mixed with dust and grass and a hint of perspiration. He must have spent his day outdoors. “Did you look for land today?”
Nodding, he tapped his thumb beside the dictionary. “My new friend, Jeb Washburn, has experience as a ranch hand, and he’s helping me choose land.”
“Have you raised cattle?”
“We had a farm, so no, not like this, although I bred mules and horses. I think I can make a decent go of it, though. I have enough cash to make a good start, and I’m eager to settle in, build a house, and make a home.”
My, his eyelashes were long. And dark, making his eyes look all the brighter—
Birdy startled. He’d been talking about mules, and she’d been studying his eyelashes. Giving herself a silent scolding, she straightened her posture so she felt more like a teacher than a girl Polly’s age. “It sounds to be a promising enterprise.”
“I hope so.”
Rather than look at his dimples, she opened the dictionary. “Did you have a favorite sonnet?”
“I’m not sure, but each poem made me feel differently. Some are hopeful, and some made me sad. Like Number 33.”
“He was but one hour mine, the region cloud hath mask’d him from me now,” she said.
A lock of Mr. Cooper’s dark hair fell across his forehead when he looked up at her. “It’s about a broken friendship, isn’t it? Or did I completely misunderstand?”
“No, you’re correct, but the tone and words fit many a situation where loss is experienced, doesn’t it?” Like Emory, gone from her sight, even though he was in heaven.
“Who’d you lose in the war?”
It wasn’t a secret. “My older brother, Lemuel, and my fiancé, Emory, were part of Jennison’s Jayhawkers. They both died in hand-to-hand combat in the battle of Mine Creek, a year and a half ago.”
“I’m sorry.”
“They were best friends. They worked Pa’s little farm, but when Pa died, I learned he hadn’t made his bank payments and I lost it all. It was a blessing I could teach and move in with Frieda, and then we both lost our men a few years later, like many of the women in Turtle Springs did.” Hot tears stung her eyes. “But that’s another topic. What’s the first word on your list? Amain. Archaic indeed.”
He looked it up in the dictionary. “To hurry. Makes sense now.”
“Good.”
“Another thing that makes sense now—you didn’t participate in the auditions because of your fiancé.” The corners of his eyes creased.
Her throat thickened, so she nodded. Even though Drew’s conclusion about her lack of participation in the auditions wasn’t the whole truth.
Drew fingered the edge of the dictionary pages, studying Birdy. Her pale lashes fluttered against her cheeks, and he wished she’d look up at him again, so she could read the sincerity in his eyes when he apologized for hurting her. “I overstepped. I’m sorry.”
The skin between her brows crinkled with what looked like confusion. “You didn’t.”
Curious. But he’d pressed enough—and pressing had cost him greatly when it came to his brother, Clement. Casting aside the memories, Drew thumbed through the dictionary for the next word on his list. In little time, they’d finished, and he stood to fix the lock.
He hadn’t reached the door when a chest-high whirlwind of brown in too-short pants thundered into the schoolhouse. “I forgot my pencil.”
How could the kid not even pant after a run like that? Drew chuckled and started on the locking mechanism.
“Oh dear, Opie. Remember not to run in the schoolhouse, and shake hands with Mr. Cooper.”
So this was the boy who’d hid his moldy cheese. Drew shook hands with the boy. “Howdy, Opie.”
“Howdy, sir.”
Birdy smiled. “Is your pencil under your desk?”
He dropped to his hands and knees and scuttled before lunging. “Found it.”
“Wonderful. Before you go, Opie, would you please do me a favor?”
“Want me to clean the erasers?”
“No, thank you. I wondered if you’d take home the extra cornbread from our lunch. We didn’t quite finish it.”
So Birdy brought food to supplement her students’ lunches. She’d mentioned Opie’s family had trouble filling the pantry. Drew oiled the lock and smiled at her generosity.
“As long as it’s not char-i-tee.”
“On the contrary, I can’t use it, so you’re helping a neighbor, like Mr. Cooper fixing the lock for us.”
Drew nodded. “And Miss Green is loaning me books.”
Opie’s face screwed into a humorous expression. Then he shrugged. “I guess I can help you. It was good cornbread, too.”
As she reached into her bag and pulled out a bundled dishtowel and some papers, a young man tromped into the schoolhouse, his steps loud on the stairs. Drew stepped aside, making way for the fair-haired youth to enter. He was as tall as Drew, but lanky, with a fuzz of whiskers atop his lip. “Miss Green?”
“Good afternoon. Mr. Cooper, meet Bob Kent.” She waved her hand in introduction and Drew shook the boy’s dry, calloused hand as Opie ran out of the schoolhouse. She shut her eyes, muttering, “Walk.”
“I remembered something and wanted to ask before I started my chores.” His voice was almost as deep as Drew’s.
“Sure, Bob.”
“It’s about the mathematics assignment.”
Drew finished the lock and tightened a few loose screws in the door hinge while Birdy and Bob worked on the blackboard. Birdy had a good way, kind and direct. The boy’s response to her showed respect for her, which she’d clearly earned.
“Thanks, Miss Green. Nice to meet you, Mr. Cooper.”
“You, too, Bob.” Drew packed his tools as Bob left. “He seems like a hard worker.”
“He is.” Birdy erased the chalkboard. “Bob is in eighth grade, about to graduate. His father, Phil, was one of the few men in town who came back from the war, but he lost a leg. Bob has kept up his studies while working the farm with his father, but I heard talk they might be moving to Lawrence with Phil’s brother for a fresh start.”
A clean slate.
Drew’s eye caught on the papers on her desk, which must have come out of her bag when she withdrew the cornbread. One was a pamphlet, the font too large to ignore.
KANSAS EDUCATORS SOCIETY
TEACHER TRAINING AND EPLOYMENT FAIR
Employment fair? Did Birdy need a fresh start, too?
She spun around, saw the pamphlet, and hurriedly shoved it into her bag. “I must get home now, but would you like to borrow another book?”
“Sure, but I’d like to do something for you, neighbor to neighbor.” He didn’t try to hide his grin.
“You’re not going to let me forget what I told Opie, are you?”
“Nope. The girls mentioned your house needs some repairs. Tomorrow, Jeb and I will be scouting one last piece of land, but afterwards, may I come by your house to do a few repairs?”
She wanted to say no. It was written on her delicate face. But then she nodded. “You’ve got yourself a deal, and we can find you a book then. But could you start tonight? Right now, in fact.”
Really? An evening with her sounded incredibly appealing. Drew’s grin widened. “I can do that.”
The corner of her mouth lifted. “One other thing. You have to stay for supper.”
Chapter 4
You invited a man for supper?” Frieda whispered, but Birdy cringed. Drew would have to be deaf not to notice the hushed conversation coming from the kitchen, even though he was working on the front door with the girls and Diggory for loud, chattering company
.
“I didn’t invite. I forced him, because he’s fixing our door and it’s almost suppertime. How could I not insist he stay?” Birdy added a dash of cinnamon to the apple-cobbler filling, glaring at Frieda at the same time.
Frieda’s strawberry eyebrows knit together. “This isn’t a matchmaking ruse, is it? Since I missed the auditions?”
Drew a match to Frieda? Birdy’s shoulders stiffened as she spooned the filling into a pie plate, scraping the sides of the bowl clean. “First of all, I won’t be interfering in your romantic affairs anymore, not after what happened with Mr. Toovey. You can find your own suitors and determine whether or not they’re liars.”
“So if I meet a man you dislike, you won’t say a word?”
“I’ll rejoice in your happiness.”
Frieda swiped a finger in the bowl and licked the apple filling from it. “You said first of all. What’s the second thing?”
Birdy spooned on the topping. “Second, he’s lonely. He came to Kansas because his Confederate brother Clement threatened to kill him.”
Frieda’s brows rose. “Why, I never.”
“Me, neither. But now you understand he can use support. Besides, the man deserves a home-cooked meal for all he’s done at the schoolhouse.”
“I thought he was fixing our door in exchange for borrowing your books.”
Birdy placed the cobbler in the oven. “It’s not an even exchange, in my opinion. How could it be, when Drew so earnestly desires to grow more learned? I find it admirable of him.”
“Oh, so it’s Drew, is it? Not Mr. Cooper?”
Birdy’s face heated, and not because she’d opened the oven. “Slice the ham.”
“If you say so.”
Frieda was still smiling when they set supper on the table. Birdy shot her a warning glare and put Diggory out, so he wouldn’t beg while they ate.
“Everything looks wonderful,” Drew said after grace, helping himself to a spoonful of redeye gravy.
“We told you Ma ith a good cook,” Minnie said.
“Birdy made the cabbage and cobbler.” Frieda winked at Birdy.
Birdy shot Frieda another warning glare before offering Drew the bowl of cabbage. “Thank you for fixing the door, Drew.”
“No trouble.” If he minded being the lone male among five females, he didn’t show it.
“The door was stuck so bad this morning we had to go out the back.” Mary Ann glanced at Birdy with a guilty expression. “I mean, badly.”
Birdy nodded at Mary Ann to reinforce her grammatical correction.
“We have baby pigth.” Minnie sat up. “Mama Pig is their mama, and they’re all pink and black. Wanna meet ’em later?”
“Sure, if your ma says it’s all right.” Drew forked into his corn cakes. “That reminds me, Mrs. Lomax, I couldn’t help but notice a few fence posts could use shoring up. I’d be happy to work on those tomorrow evening.”
“Then you must stay for supper tomorrow, too.”
“That’s right kind of you, Mrs. Lomax.” But when Drew set down his water glass, he smiled at Birdy across the table. It was impossible not to smile back.
After supper, Birdy and Frieda cleaned up while the girls showed Drew the piglets, all seven of them. They returned with Diggory as Birdy set a kerosene lamp to the table. “I thought we could all work here tonight.”
In a few minutes, they’d resumed their chairs. Diggory lay atop Drew’s boots in a contented heap. Frieda crocheted a cap from pink yarn for Minnie, Minnie crocheted a smaller, lumpier hat for her doll from the same yarn, and the older girls worked on their math assignments. After discussing Shakespeare for a few minutes, Birdy set three books on the table for Drew to choose from.
“How about this one?” He held up Paul Bunyan’s The Pilgrim’s Progress.
“It’s an edifying choice. Why don’t you start reading while I grade papers? That way, if you have any initial questions, we can discuss them now.” Birdy refused to look at Frieda, who had better not be smirking.
“Sure, if you’re certain I’m not overstaying.” Drew couldn’t move anyway, not without disturbing a snoring Diggory.
Frieda’s lips twitched. “Not at all.”
“Nope,” Minnie added, popping the P.
“Stay as long as you like.” Polly blushed.
“I’m checking the door to see if it works.” Mary Ann hopped up and headed to the front door.
Drew grinned at Birdy. She grinned back, and they set to their tasks accompanied by the sounds of the front door opening and closing, opening and closing, smooth and unstuck, thanks to him.
Suppers over the next week followed the same pattern. Drew came in the late afternoons to make repairs around the house and see to the livestock, and then he stayed for supper. While there was still much to be done on the property, after only a week, he’d fixed the fence around the house and the pigpen, cleaned the barn, and cut firewood.
Birdy hadn’t enjoyed her evenings this much in a long, long time.
Tonight, as they gathered around the dining table, Birdy sketched out the upcoming graduation ceremony, something that didn’t require all her concentration so Drew could ask questions as he started a Dickens novel.
At seven o’clock, Drew rose, as was his custom. “Thank you, ladies. I’d best head back to town, but before I go I wanted to tell you my good news. I selected land for my ranch today, and tomorrow I have an appointment to take care of the legalities.”
“Congratulations.” Birdy clapped.
“Indeed.” Frieda grinned. “Where is it?”
“On your northern border, actually.” Drew glanced at Birdy. “We’ll be neighbors.”
“How wonderful.” Birdy rose to stand with him. What a blessing Frieda would have such a conscientious neighbor.
“Are you coming tomorrow night?” Minnie shoved the pink cap atop her dolly’s head.
“We’re having pork roast and apples.” Polly batted her eyelashes. That child!
“I’m sorry to say my appointment will keep me out too late to be here in time to make any repairs, and I wouldn’t dream of coming for supper without earning it.” Drew offered an apologetic smile.
“Neighbors come for supper just because,” Polly piped up.
“You’ve done too much for us already.” Frieda smiled. “We’ll celebrate another night, and don’t you dare bring your tool box.”
Birdy shouldn’t feel disappointed he wasn’t coming tomorrow, but there was no other word for the swirl of discomfort in her abdomen. It had only been a week, but she’d grown accustomed to Drew spending the evenings with them. “I’ll walk you to the door.”
He bid the others good night and followed her out. She left the door open and stood on the porch, admitting cool evening air into the house, accompanied by the chorus of crickets.
“Tell Frieda I found some coyote tracks a little too close to the yard.” Drew’s voice was quiet.
Oh dear. “We’ll watch for it.”
“I have one last question, Birdy.” Drew held the book aloft.
About Dickens? “Yes?”
“My appointment is late tomorrow, but I wondered if you’d be interested in joining me for supper at the Tumble Inn restaurant afterwards. I’d like to thank you for all you’ve done to help me better myself.”
Birdy’s jaw went slack. Supper, with a man, in public? She couldn’t, but when she opened her mouth, the word yes popped out.
“I’ll call for you at six, if that suits you.”
“It does.”
But as she shut the door behind him, she covered her mouth with her hand. What would Emory say? Or Lemuel or Pa?
She knew full well the answers. They matched the churning of her conscience.
It’s just a thank-you supper, Lord. I hope You understand.
The next evening, Drew led Birdy to one of the restaurant’s smaller tables in the back and pulled out her chair. Her flowery fragrance wafted around him as he scooched her chair under the table.
As he took his seat, she shook her head. “It’s been a long time since a gentleman held out my chair. I almost forgot what to do.”
“It’s only been a few weeks since I seated a lady.” He placed his napkin on his lap. “Aunt Lou.”
“She must have enjoyed your company. I’m sure she was sorry to see you go.”
“Actually, she shook her finger at me and said I’d been underfoot for too long.” He chuckled. “It was her way of setting me free so I could start over, and it was done in love. When I arrived in Turtle Springs, there was already a letter from her waiting here for me. She must have mailed it while I was still in her house.”
Birdy laughed. “She’ll love getting the letter about your property.”
“I’ll write to her tonight—”
The dark-haired younger sister of the Inn’s owner, Virginia, stood at the table’s edge, clutching a pencil and notepad, her gaze flickering between Drew and Birdy as if guessing their relationship. She couldn’t be more than nineteen.
“Ma’am, Mr. Cooper.” Virginia’s eyes shone bright with unabashed curiosity.
Twin spots of color bloomed in Birdy’s cheeks, but she smiled. “Good evening, Virginia. I’ve been meaning to speak with you about a teacher training and job fair coming up in Topeka.” She smiled at Drew. “Virginia has aspirations to teach.”
So that explained the pamphlet he’d seen. “Wonderful.”
“I look forward to it, ma’am.” Virginia smiled and squared her shoulders. “Our supper choices this evening are pork roast with root vegetables, or mutton stew with fresh peas and spring onions.”
“I’ll have the pork,” Birdy said without hesitation.
“Me, too.” Drew waited until Virginia was out of earshot before smiling at Birdy. “Thank you for coming tonight.”
“Thank you for inviting me out as a thank-you. My, that’s a lot of thank-yous.” She chuckled.
“I guess we’ve both got a lot to be grateful for.” One thing he was most grateful for was meeting her. Hopefully this thank-you dinner was the first of many evenings out.
“Congratulations on your property purchase. It went well?”
Seven Brides for Seven Mail-Order Husbands Romance Collection Page 19