“Want you to know how very sorry my wife and I are. About what’s happened. Miranda … my wife … we both think it’s wrong, what the board’s done.”
Tears sprang to her eyes. “Thank you,” she replied softly.
“Just remember. It’s temporary. It’ll get sorted out. You can be sure of that.”
She nodded, unable to say anything more, afraid to hope for a better end.
Although she was eager to read the letter from Dr. Cray’s home, she made herself wait until she was back on the porch of her cottage before she tore open the envelope and removed the sheet of paper from inside.
Dr. Cray’s Asylum for Little Wanderers
Chicago, Illinois
September 30, 1897
Miss Felicia Brennan Kristoffersen
Frenchman’s Bluff, Idaho
Dear Miss Kristoffersen,
I have your letter at hand and have tried to verify the information you requested.
According to our records, your brother Hugh Brennan was placed out in the fall of 1881 with a family who lived near Omaha, Nebraska. However, upon further review, it appears that he left that family in the spring of 1882 at the age of 14. I am afraid the reason for his departure and the circumstances under which it took place were not recorded. I can only assume that he was not content with his placement and struck out on his own. Unfortunately, boys of his age sometimes choose to do that rather than request reassignment through our office.
As for your sister, Diana Brennan, she was placed with a prominent couple by the name of Dixon in Cheyenne, Wyoming, in the fall of 1881. The Dixons moved to southwest Montana in 1890. Mr. Dixon appears to have been affiliated with the railroad. Our records show no specific town of residence and no further follow-up after 1890. It does appear that Mr. and Mrs. Dixon inquired regarding the adoption of your sister while they were in Wyoming, but there is no record in our files that said adoption took place.
I hope this information is of some help to you.
Most sincerely,
Adam St. Charles
Secretary
Felicia read the letter two more times before folding it and sliding it back into its envelope. Hugh’s whereabouts unknown for fifteen years, and Diana with a prominent family somewhere in Montana, at least as far back as seven years ago. No help at all with finding her brother, and perhaps no help with Diana either, although she knew a little more now than she had before. But to think, she and her little sister had lived for nine years within fifty miles or so of each other and never knew it. Oh, if only …
The sound of shouts and laughter carried to her, and she looked in the direction of the schoolhouse, watching as the children spilled forth like milk from a toppled bottle and spread out like tributaries on their way home. Before she could rise and go inside, she heard one voice above the others.
“Miss K!” Charity ran down the street as fast as her legs would carry her. “Miss K!”
Her heart broke a little more. How she treasured that sound.
Breathing hard, Charity arrived on the porch. “Why weren’t you at school?”
“Weren’t you told?”
The girl shrugged. “All Miss Todd said was she’s gonna be our teacher for a while. But Suzanne says her grandmother doesn’t like you, and that’s why you’re not teachin’ today.”
Felicia winced, and the desire to say she didn’t like Helen Summerville either warred with the desire to do and say what was right. Thankfully, the latter won. “That may be true, Charity, but it’s just speculation on your friend’s part and shouldn’t be repeated. Do you know what speculation means?”
Charity shook her head.
“To have an opinion or a theory about a subject without firm evidence or facts. It’s better not to speculate, Charity.” That was, after all, what had brought about her suspension. Mere speculation. “It’s most often the same as gossip, and you know what the Bible says about gossip.”
Another shake of the head.
“It can separate the best of friends. You don’t want to say bad things about Mrs. Summerville because it’s unkind and it might cause you and Suzanne and Phoebe to no longer be friends.”
“Well … okay. But I still don’t like having Miss Todd for a teacher instead of you. Nobody does.”
Felicia couldn’t hold back a sad smile as she ran her hand over Charity’s hair. “Thank you. It’s kind of you to say that. But I’m sure Miss Todd is very nice and a good teacher. You need to give her the same chance you gave me.” Her throat began to tighten, making it hard to speak. “Now, you’d best get on home to your father. He’ll be wondering what’s kept you.”
“Okay,” the girl said again, adding as she descended the porch steps, “but you’re still gonna help me with my reading, right?”
She wanted to say yes, but she couldn’t. She knew so little about what the next days would be like. “That’s something you must ask your father.”
“I’m gonna go ask him right now.” And with that, Charity disappeared around the corner of the house.
After a second sleepless night, Felicia made up her mind. She would leave Frenchman’s Bluff of her own accord. She wouldn’t wait to see if Mrs. Summerville won in the end. It wouldn’t be right for Felicia to stay, not feeling the way she did about Colin. She cared for him too much. Even more than she’d realized.
She loved him—and she couldn’t have him.
What if he had kissed her that night outside her cottage? What might have happened next between them? Would she want to hurt a woman who had befriended her from the start? No, better she leave and begin again somewhere else.
She turned up the oil lamp beside the bed and reached for the letter from Dr. Cray’s. A couple named Dixon. The husband worked for the railroad. Moved to southwest Montana.
It wasn’t much to go on, but it was a start. How many small towns were there near the railroad tracks of Montana? And even if she didn’t find Diana, how much worse off would she be there than she was here? In fact, she might be better off. There would be no whiff of scandal to follow her to Montana. Not yet anyway.
She tossed aside the covers on her bed and sat up, lowering her feet to the floor and sliding them into her slippers. Her bedroom had grown cold during the night, and after putting on a robe, she went to add more wood to the stove. Then she began packing her things in the same trunk she’d brought with her from Wyoming, all the while tears rolling down her cheeks.
THIRTY-ONE
Ellen Franklin reached across the counter and touched the back of Colin’s hand. “I’ll get straight to work organizing the parents. You can count on me. We’ll stop this injustice.” She took a step back. “And Colin, I think there’s another reason you can’t afford to let Miss Kristoffersen lose her position.” She pointed at him—as if he should know what she meant—then turned and left the mercantile.
What did she mean? He wanted to let the children of the town keep a wonderful teacher. He wanted Felicia’s reputation protected. Even his own reputation protected. He wanted right to be done and Mrs. Summerville to be stopped.
But he didn’t think Ellen meant any of that.
Without a word to Jimmy, he walked out of the store into his living quarters, closing the connecting door behind him. He went first to the window that looked out on Main Street. A man on horseback was headed out of town. A team hitched to a wagon was tied to the post in front of the bank. Farther down the street, three men stood on the boardwalk in front of the feed store, one of them gesturing, the other two seeming to listen to him.
An ordinary kind of day in Frenchman’s Bluff. But it didn’t feel ordinary.
He wanted to check on Felicia. He wanted to see if she was all right. But he didn’t think he could. What if he was seen on her porch? What if it created even more gossip, making things worse? He didn’t care for himself, but he cared for her. He’d promised he would make things right. He had to keep his distance for now.
“There’s another reason you can’t afford to let M
iss Kristoffersen lose her position.”
He turned and sat in his favorite chair. His gaze fell on the Bible resting on the table beside him. He opened it and withdrew the letter Margaret had written to him. His gaze moved over the words on the page, pleased that the letters were less jumbled than they’d been before, thanks to the practice words he’d been going over for weeks. It didn’t all make sense to him yet, but one particular word stood out on the page today: Love.
“There’s another reason you can’t afford to let Miss Kristoffersen lose her position.”
Love.
“There’s another reason you can’t afford to let Miss Kristoffersen lose her position.”
Love.
He straightened as glimpses of Felicia flashed through his memory—lying on a boulder, talking to God; sitting in the schoolhouse at one of the desks, so excited about maps on the wall; riding bareback astride Walter’s wagon horse; gripping that tree limb, going under in the river as the water tossed her about like a rag doll; beautiful in a blue gown, dancing in his arms, her eyes turned up to him.
“I love her.” He spoke the words with wonder.
How could he not have realized it before now? He didn’t just want to kiss her every now and again. He didn’t just want to hold her in his arms while they danced. He didn’t just care about her or feel a fondness for her or want to be her friend. And his feelings had nothing to do with wanting a woman’s influence for Charity.
“I love her.”
He slipped Margaret’s letter back into the Bible, then let his fingers linger on the leather cover.
And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose.
As the words of the familiar verse replayed in his head, he felt like laughing for joy. Either that or falling on his face in praise. How could it be that he’d doubted the truth of that Scripture for so long, only to see now that it was completely and faithfully true?
God had done so much more than bring a schoolteacher to Frenchman’s Bluff.
Kathleen drew a deep breath as she opened the front door of the Summerville home, her new husband at her side. For forty-eight wonderful hours, there had been nothing in her world but Oscar. Certainly she’d given no thought to what Mother Summerville’s reaction would be when they returned to Frenchman’s Bluff.
But she was thinking of nothing besides Mother Summerville now. Her stomach was in turmoil, and her palms felt damp from trepidation.
“It’s gonna be all right, Kathleen.”
She looked at Oscar. It surprised her how well he understood her feelings and read her thoughts. Even better than Harold had after many years of marriage.
Her husband nodded, and she drew another quick breath before calling out, “Hello. Is anyone home?”
A swish of taffeta alerted her to Mother Summerville’s approach a second before she appeared in the hallway. “Kathleen, I—” She broke off when she saw Oscar. “I didn’t know we had a guest.”
Oscar doffed his hat and gave a slight bow at the waist. “Miz Summerville. A pleasure to see you again.”
Mother Summerville’s response was an almost imperceptible nod.
“I … we—” Kathleen began.
“I’m glad you’re home,” Mother Summerville interrupted. “Now you can see to your children yourself. I have been busy with this school board business. We’ve suspended Miss Kristoffersen’s contract. Very nasty affair. And to think I wanted you to marry that man. You should have heard how Mr. Murphy spoke to me.”
Kathleen turned to look at Oscar, confused and uncertain. Suspended Felicia? School board business? What had happened in just two days?
Oscar gave her a confident glance before addressing Mother Summerville. “Ma’am, I’m not sure what you’re talkin’ about since I haven’t been to town in a few days, but we’ve got a bit of news of our own. Kathleen and I got married.”
“What?” Mother Summerville reached for the wall to steady herself. “Married?”
“Yes.” Kathleen forced a smile. “On Sunday afternoon. In Boise.”
“But you couldn’t … you didn’t … Who is he?”
Kathleen slipped her arm through Oscar’s. “He’s my husband. And I’m Mrs. Jacobson.”
“Where will you live? You don’t think you’re bringing this stranger into—”
“I have a place of my own, Miz Summerville.” There was a firm edge in Oscar’s voice now. “And as soon as the girls get out of school today, I mean to take my family there.”
Something about the way Oscar spoke renewed Kathleen’s courage. “What was it you said about Felicia?”
“We’ve suspended her. She’s going to be fired. If it weren’t for her interference, you and Mr. Murphy … Well … Not that I would approve of him now, but all the same—”
Kathleen turned toward Oscar. “I must see her.”
“I’ll take you.”
“Yes.”
In unison, they turned their backs on Mother Summerville and departed from the house.
Felicia sat beside Walter Swanson on the wagon seat, her arms hugging her satchel against her chest, her eyes turned toward the foothills along the Boise Front. So far, her posture had succeeded in discouraging Mr. Swanson from trying to carry on a conversation with her.
Odd, wasn’t it? She hadn’t been in Idaho all that long—only long enough for the season to change from summer to autumn—yet her surroundings felt more like home than Wyoming had after sixteen years. She would miss those brown foothills and the treetopped mountain peaks beyond them. She would miss the Boise River and the small town of Frenchman’s Bluff. She would miss Kathleen and the Franklins and the Carpenters and the pretty white schoolhouse and the children who filled it. Especially Charity.
She would miss Colin. How was it she had learned to love him and not been aware of it?
Tears blurred her vision, and she was forced to take out her handkerchief and blow her nose.
“Are you sure this is what you want to do, miss?” Walter asked.
“Yes.” The word came out a whisper.
“If you’d just give us a little more time.”
She shook her head. “Time would make no difference.”
“Miss Kristoffersen, I don’t believe you and Mr. Murphy did anything improper. I don’t think other folks’ll believe it either.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“But it does! If you’d—”
“Please, Mr. Swanson. Just take me to the rail station. I’ll be obliged.”
After the third knock on the door without an answer, Colin opened it.
“Felicia?”
He took a step inside. The air was cool, the fire in the stove burned down to coals.
“Felicia?”
He took another couple of steps. Still no answer. Not a sound. Where was she?
“Felicia, I’m coming in.”
He moved into the parlor. Something seemed different to him, though he couldn’t put his finger on what that was. He turned and found the bedroom door open. The bed was made, the room neat as a pin.
He turned around, letting his eyes roam the small room again. That’s when he saw it. An envelope braced against the base of the oil lamp on the bedside table. With a sick feeling in his gut, he stepped toward the table and picked up the envelope. His name was on it, written in Felicia’s distinctive hand. Distinctive because of the lists of words she’d written for Charity to learn. Lists that he’d used too.
“Felicia?”
He spun about to find Kathleen in the open doorway.
“Colin?”
“I think she’s gone.” He held the envelope toward her. “I just found this.”
She approached him slowly.
“Read it, please. I … I’m not sure I can.”
Kathleen took it and withdrew the slip of paper. Her eyes perused it, widened, and returned to him. “Oh, Colin. She still believes you and I are to be married. She … she wished us gr
eat happiness. That’s why she left. Not because she lost her teaching position.”
Colin rubbed a hand over his face. “I don’t understand. Where would she—”
“I think I know,” Kathleen answered darkly. Then she touched his wrist, saying with urgency, “But that doesn’t matter now. Go after her. She can’t have gone far. We just arrived back from Boise a short while ago, and we didn’t see her on the road.”
A man stepped into the kitchen. That cowboy who worked for Gilchrist. Jacobson. He’d seen him dancing with Kathleen on Saturday night. “You can take the buggy tied up outside,” he said.
“Don’t worry about how long it takes,” Kathleen added. “I’ll look after Charity when she gets home from school.”
Colin didn’t hesitate any longer. He strode toward the door.
“And Colin?”
He stopped and looked behind him.
“Tell her that Oscar and I are married, will you?” Kathleen moved to stand beside her new husband. “Tell her we’re happy.”
He felt a moment of stunned surprise, then he laughed. “I’ll be sure to tell her.”
He ran outside, jumped into the vehicle, took up the reins, and drove the Summerville horse and buggy out of town.
There had to be a touch of irony in that.
The rail station could be seen in the distance, and seeing it seemed to make Felicia’s heart break all over again. She didn’t want to leave, even though she knew she must. For everyone’s sake, she must.
“What’s that ruckus?” Walter said, drawing in on the reins.
Only then did she hear something. Galloping hooves and a man’s shouts.
Walter twisted on the wagon seat. “We’re being hailed.”
“Wait up, Walter!”
She recognized Colin’s voice. Her stomach sank and her pulse raced.
“Wait!”
Go on, Mr. Swanson. Go on. Don’t wait.
The thunder of hooves came closer.
She squeezed her eyes closed. She heard the buggy stop, heard Colin’s boots hit the ground, knew that he strode toward her side of the wagon.
“Felicia, where do you think you’re going?”
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