by Jo Noelle
As people prepared to leave, Millie called the remaining women together. She wrapped her arms round her middle protectively. “Will you bring a sign to stand in front of the Nugget Saloon payday next?” She seemed to reach for courage within her chest for the next words. “We’ll meet in the morning. Stand together.” Millie surely noticed what Julianne had—there was no visible enthusiasm for Millie’s proposal. The confidence in her voice wilted. “Who will come?”
Silence stretched the moment.
Some shook their heads, and a few averted their eyes as if they hadn’t heard the question, but no voices raised in support. Millie dipped her head with understanding, then began picking cut quilting threads from her skirt.
Julianne touched Millie’s forearm. “I can be there.” She didn’t know why she would need to bring a sign, but standing was something she could do. And if it would help repay any of the kindnesses Millie had heaped on her, she’d do it.
Millie whispered, “Thank you.”
As the last wagon rumbled off, a lone rider on a black horse arrived. He wore a fine vest and coat, his boots as polished as a looking glass. Julianne had seen many spiffed-up men in Chicago, but this man was a stark anomaly here. His mustache, slim and twisted, extended past his lips with a curl, twitching into a semblance of a smile when his eyes found Julianne.
“You’ve just missed the worship, Mr. Grady,” Callum said as he stepped past Julianne. She thought she heard him whisper “of course” in passing. Then she noted that he stepped forward when the man dismounted, and whether or not he meant to, he stood between her and the stranger.
“Sorry to hear that.” With one hand, he opened his coat to reveal a gold pocket watch chain and buttons set with topaz. He slowly drew the clock up and read the time. “I am a mite later than I’d hoped.” A masculine diamond ring weighted one slim finger on his hand that moved to a small pocket in his silk vest.
“My uncle, the owner of the Bonanza Claim Mine”—his smile tweaked upward into what he might have thought pleasing, but Julianne thought was a grimace “—sends an offering for the church.” Though his comment was seemingly directed to Reverend Bing, Grady’s beady eyes stared over the reverend’s shoulder at Julianne. The man pulled two silver dollars from his pocket and extended them to Reverend Bing.
She believed Callum certainly knew who that man’s uncle was, and it was a boast directed toward her to let her know he was important. A shudder crawled through her, and she fixed a look on her face that she hoped masked her feelings.
“Word is that you have a guest, and I see it’s true. May I have an introduction?”
He removed his hat, and then stared at Callum, almost daring him to refuse. Grady was a slip of a man, with a delicate fist sitting on his hip.
For a long moment, Reverend Bing stood without relaxing his stance. “Of course.” His voice was gruff. “Miss Parker, this is Archibald Grady. Mr. Grady, Miss Parker.” Then it seemed that with a smidge of warning, he added, “The daughter of a dear, personal friend.”
Julianne hid her surprise at the declaration. Perhaps he meant that she was one of God’s daughters—that would explain the friend reference. She noticed that Mr. Archibald looked cross when Callum hadn’t given him her Christian name—for which Julianne was relieved. His jaw clenched, then relaxed with effort when he bowed his head toward her. “Good day, Miss Parker.”
Julianne nodded conservatively. “Good day.” She was grateful that Reverend Bing still stood between her and the man. Though he had the dress and deportment of a gentleman, his gaze traveled from her head to her toes, convincing her that he was not.
“Well, we have a supper to get on. ’Cuse us, gents.” Millie took Julianne by the hand and led her away. “His uncle sent nothing of the sort,” she mumbled. “He’s likely buying an eyeful o’ you.” Her pace quickened. A low whistle escaped as she pulled Julianne along. “Still, that be quite a sum.” Her hand rested momentarily on her heart as she said, “Praise the Lord.” When the door clicked firmly shut behind them, Millie added with a knowing look, “Best stay far from where Grady slithers.”
Chapter 7
Hugh Fontaine
Returning to Bachelor from Creede, Hugh’s wagon rattled over the hill, and he looked at the tree. The tree. In his mind, it marked the time before he met Julianne and the time after. It had only been a few days since rescuing her from her entanglement, and a few days since Hugh was first plagued with a desire to see her again.
He began to wonder if that one moment had set his feet on a different path. His heart was at odds with his brain.
She was his first thought in the morning, and questions about her interrupted him throughout the day. How is she doing? What will become of her dream to build a school? What trouble will she get herself into next? He chuckled a bit at that, fairly certain that she would regularly. However, she seemed to overcome obstacles without losing courage. He admired her pluck.
He allowed himself to reminisce about Julianne. The events seemed to be burned behind his eyelids. His mind recalled her words. He savored the tinkling sound of her laugh, the tilt of her chin—his memory so vivid that he could almost feel her sitting beside him. A sudden desire to help her, to support her dream, assaulted him.
His reverie broke then, and Hugh realized he’d long passed by his saloon and just around the next bend of the road was the church. As he brought his team to a halt, he could see the clapboard building between the thinning trees. Maybe Julianne was inside.
Would she be as excited to see me as I would be to see her?
He shook his head and rumbled past, not allowing his eyes to tic in that direction. He would put that woman out of his mind.
That almost worked. He often caught himself thinking about her and swiftly kicked the thoughts out, but he’d catch them sneaking in again later. Over the next few days, it was a near-constant battle to push them out. The only way to put a stop to this was to see Julianne. Hugh decided he’d make a call on Saturday—just a friendly visit to make sure everything was fine.
Not only did he find it was almost impossible to get a good night’s sleep on Friday, but he got up as soon as the first rooster crowed. He took some extra care getting dressed—nothing fancy, but he found that he wanted to impress the woman.
It wouldn’t do to show up on Reverend Bing’s front stoop before the sun chased dusk away from their door. He looked around his barren cabin for something to take his mind off the wait. Nothing.
In a drawer at the bottom of his wardrobe were several decks of cards. He pulled one out and began turning the cards over, one after another, concentrating to remember which cards he’d already seen and determining which ones were still in the deck. The first time through the deck was easy. Each time he shuffled the cards and replayed the exercise, he had to concentrate on the current deal and not revert to remembering the previous ones.
Finally, clear morning light shone through his windows. He left the deck where it lay, went outside to saddle his horse, and got on his way up the road. He practiced what he might say when they answered the door.
“Hello, Reverend, Miss Bing, Miss Parker. I was passing by and thought I’d stop to say hello.”
No. Don’t start by lying.
“Hello, Reverend, Miss Bing, Miss Parker. I thought I’d stop to see how you’re getting along.”
Better.
Hugh peered through the forest, straining to see the church. As he approached the last turn before his destination, he saw Julianne step out the back door with a basket, walking toward the chicken coop. It wouldn’t be right to approach her while she was alone. Hugh would have to wait.
Still, he could see her. She released the latch and the chickens followed her to the trough where she spread their food. Then she ducked inside the coop.
Minutes slowly ticked by. Hugh imagined how he would approach the door, what she would look like when she saw that he’d come for a visit, and how her smile would grow toward him.
His sensible t
houghts broke in. What are you doing?
I’m just dropping by for a friendly visit.
You can’t have a friendship with a woman. If you go there, you’re courting her.
I’ve come all this way—I’ll go on over.
No. You won’t visit her today. She doesn’t need you making it harder to live here.
There was a physical pain in his chest as Hugh decided he must abandon his interest in Julianne. It seemed to him that his heart was in full mutiny. He countered, thinking that he didn’t even know the woman.
In defiance, his heart thumped, “I do. I do.”
Chapter 8
Julianne Parker
Julianne followed Millie, hurrying to keep up with the brisk pace. The roads were barely recognizable even on the streets considered busy. Truthfully, there were only narrow, well-worn paths through the trees and grass, leading to the homes of the families who might have school-aged children. Julianne appreciated Millie’s knowledge of who lived where. Without her, Julianne had no idea how to get word out about the school.
As Millie and Julianne approached a canvas tent, Millie whistled a two-note tune that sounded a bit like “yoo-hoo.” When they reached the tent flap, a hand pulled it open and a woman stepped out. Three children stood in the darkened interior, their wide eyes fixed on the visitors.
“Mrs. Schmidt, I brought you and the young ’uns some scones. Would it be all right if I give them one?” asked Millie, pulling back the napkin from the top of her basket. “Or they can keep ’til later.”
“I reckon we got a little time for that. Come on in.” Mrs. Schmidt stepped aside and invited the women to enter the tent. Mrs. Schmidt tied the flap back—in essence leaving the door open and flooding the interior with light.
Julianne glanced around at the sparse conditions. Three wooden boxes, stacked on top of each other, held some clothes.
“You two take a seat on those crates. What brings you up our way this afternoon, Miss Bing? Though your scones are a pleasant reason enough.” The woman and her children settled onto a quilt spread over the top of the straw pallet on the dirt floor.
Julianne sat closest to the children and passed out the scones she received from Millie. Each child had bright eyes and gentle smiles. Their home was tidy and clean, as were the children, though their clothes were worn.
“I came to introduce Miss Parker to the families hereabouts.” Millie turned toward Julianne. “This is Mrs. Schmidt and her three children.”
“How do you do?” the woman asked.
“I’m well. I'm so pleased to meet you,” Julianne said. “And to meet you too,” she added, nodding toward the children. “I've moved to Bachelor to be a schoolteacher, and it looks like your children might be of age to attend.”
At first, Mrs. Schmidt didn't say anything. Her face was solemn, and she stared at the scone in her hand, looking as if she was considering what Julianne had said, and perhaps, trying to control her emotions. The children snacked happily on the scones, oblivious to their mother’s dilemma.
Finally, Mrs. Schmidt answered in a thick voice, “I'd be pleased to have my young ’uns attend school, but we can't afford such things.”
Millie leaned forward and patted the woman on the knee. “Not to worry. The Lord will provide a way. You won't need to worry about paying tuition.”
Julianne noticed that Mrs. Schmidt was suddenly very interested in her apron. A moment later, she lifted it to dab at her eyes. “I never learnt to read, and…I'd be pleased if my children did.”
“We expect our school to start within the next month or two,” Julianne said.
Millie offered, “We’ll start by having the school at the church. We have other families to visit before our scones get all dried out.” Then to Julianne, she said, “Well, we best be goin’.” The woman hugged each of them before they left, then stood and waved to them from the opening of the tent as they walked back up the hill.
Millie linked arms with Julianne as they moved up the trail to the next family. There was no sign of children. Julianne didn’t hear or see a one.
This time when Millie whistled her greeting, a man and woman walked out from behind the one room log cabin, wearing work gloves and having blood splattered across their clothes. Julianne felt her pulse quicken. Taking in their appearance, Julianne noticed fine white chicken feathers stuck to and floating away from the woman’s apron.
“Mr. and Mrs. Baran, this is Miss Julianne Parker. She's come to be a schoolteacher—to start a school here in Bachelor.”
Julianne wanted to get to the point and leave the somewhat grizzly scene. “I'm pleased to meet you. Have you children who might attend our school?”
The man’s lips turned downward, and his eyebrows creased between them. He shook his head twice and said, “Nope.”
Millie took the napkin from the top of her basket. “May I leave some scones for you and your children on the window ledge?”
The woman smiled prettily, making her seem much younger than moments ago, until the man barked out, “No. Good day to you.”
Millie didn’t seem fazed by the rough tone the man used. “Good day to you too,” she said in a friendly way, her face honestly happy.
When they’d walked a ways up the road, Julianne said, “I hope there are more families like Mrs. Schmidt than like this last family. Why didn’t they want their children to attend or even have your scones?” She had a hard time believing that parents wouldn't want their children to better themselves.
Millie answered, “As for the scones, he might not want to be beholden to anyone. But for letting their children go to school, I suppose they need the money. If their children are going to school, they aren't working. It might take every coin this family makes to feed themselves.”
As they walked away, Julianne thought it might be true of most of the population in Bachelor, who looked like they could use more regular meals. If families were to educate their children, they would have an easier time feeding themselves, but that was years in the future, and it wouldn't fill the empty stomachs now.
Millie led her off the road and up a small trail. Julianne wondered how it was possible that everywhere they walked seemed to be uphill. Millie whistled again. This time, they stood in front of a door that was sunk into the small hillside. The door creaked open, and the young girl peeked out.
She was the female version, of the boy at the church luncheon, the one with the missing pant leg. The same copper-brown hair. The same sky-blue eyes. A sprinkling of freckles over her nose.
“Hello, Bekka. Is Willie home? We’d like to talk to him.”
The girl shook her head and started backing away from the door to close it. “I saw your brother.” Julianne spoke up. “He's a hard worker.” The girl paused in the doorway, giving Julianne a moment to extend an invitation. “Our school will be starting in a few weeks’ time. I wondered if you or anyone else in your family would like to attend.”
The young girl nodded once and then shut the door. Millie walked up to the door and tapped. When the girl answered, Millie said, “I brought some scones for your family for dinner tonight.” She counted out enough treats. “Please tell Willie they came from me.” She handed the girl six scones wrapped in the napkin. “He can drop the napkin off at my place when he comes to do chores.”
With a smile, the girl wrapped her hands carefully around the napkin as if it were filled with jewels. Her eyes sparkled at Millie before she disappeared behind the rickety door.
It took all afternoon to visit houses that had children. Julianne suspected she’d walked an inch off the heels of her boots. This whole town was built into the nooks and crannies of the hillside around the mines. Most of the families were doubtful that they would have children attending. Some thought they wouldn't still be living in Bachelor in a month’s time, and others needed their children to work. Several committed to come, and a few others said they would think about it.
“These are poor folks, Julianne, but they have their pride, and
they love one another. We'll just keep inviting and hope that they will see their way to letting the children come.”
Julianne was glad that they had come out this early to invite the children because it might take some families several weeks to make a decision, waiting until word spread to convince them. At least, she hoped they would. It wasn’t as easy as she thought it would be to open a school and have a room full of eager minds.
Still, she felt in her heart that it was what she was supposed to do. Lord, direct my path.
Chapter 9
Hugh Fontaine
No, it wasn’t possible to overlook Julianne Parker as she came into Creede. Hugh Fontaine stood like a prairie dog with the other men on the main street, watching her pass.
The preacher’s sister drove the wagon with Julianne perched beside her, the morning sun turning Julianne’s apricot hair to spun gold. It seemed to Hugh that he hadn’t really seen the sun for over a week since he had set Julianne down with the preacher, and now her light warmed him through.
The wide brim of her small hat curved at a sassy angle on the right side of her face, revealing her perfect profile and full pink lips. Every nerve in his body seemed attached to a string that woman pulled. Even after the wagon lumbered away, Hugh watched the poppy-red bow on the back of her hat like it was an exotic bird flying south, one he was sure to follow.
Had she any idea the jewel she was among so many rocks? Hugh shouldn’t notice. And if he did happen to, he should reject the magic that seemed to entice him toward her. But thankfully, he was weak.
He caught up as the women entered the general store. He hung back, wondering how to approach them. The door opened and closed many times, and the aisles became clogged. Peculiar how many men showed up at the store suddenly needing tobacco, flour, or a random tonic.
Hugh, hat in hand, cleared his throat, then bowed when the ladies turned his way. “Miss Bing. Miss Parker. May I assist you today?” Several men within earshot looked on to see if he would be favored, or if they might offer a little hospitality of their own.