When the men lumbered in just before dawn, she surreptitiously searched for Beau, but saw him nowhere.
“Does everyone come in here for all the meals?” she innocently asked the hand sitting next to her.
“Not always,” he said around a mouthful of potatoes. “We got stoves in the cabins. They aren’t so good, though. And none of us can cook like Clara can.”
With breakfast winding down, Mr. Reed came in and took a seat at the end of the table. “Miss Hurley, this is your first day of school, right?”
Cadence took a deep breath. “Yes, sir. It is.”
“I’d give you a ride into town, but there’s just too much work to be done around here. I don’t like the thought of you walking all that way, though. Can you ride a horse?”
She hesitated. Her first time in a saddle had been many years ago, when she was not more than five. Yes, she could ride.
But she had not since her accident.
It was not as if she had another choice. Walking into town would take too long. And she did not want to be a burden on her hosts by asking for their assistance all the time.
“Y-yes. I can ride.”
He nodded in satisfaction. “Good. Beau’s in the stable now. He can get you set up with a horse.”
Oh.
“Go on,” Gemma encouraged, taking Cadence’s empty plate. “I will do all the cleaning up. You do not want to be late on your very first day.”
Cadence smiled. “Yes. You are right. Thank you.”
She had nothing to take with her—no slate or books. Clara had thought to pack her a lunch, though—something that had completely slipped Cadence’s mind—and she pushed it into Cadence’s grasp as she went out the door. With the tin pail in hand and her winter jacket buttoned up tightly, she headed to the stable. The last place she had seen Beau.
He’d been in her dreams the night before. Except instead of being callous and austere, he’d been warm and tender. He’d given Cadence a tour of the countryside, taking her across the fields and into the mountains. As she’d rested her head on his shoulder, she’d thought that she was the luckiest woman in the world…
It had been a silly dream, probably brought on by the fact that no man ever glanced twice at her. Beau was nice to look at, but beyond that, there was nothing desirable about him.
She didn’t even make it into the stable. As soon as she got close, Beau came out, leading a brown horse with a black mane. “This is Pip.”
“Good morning to you, too.”
His eyes flashed and she braced herself for the harsh response.
“Good morning.”
Cadence suppressed a smile. So, even the hardest of hearts were capable of a little decency.
“You can ride?”
Anxiety bubbled up in her stomach. “Yes.”
“Great. Have a good day.”
He handed her the reins before walking off.
Licking her lips, Cadence tied the tin pail to the saddle strings, taking her time in making sure her lunch was secure.
Next came the big moment. There could be no waiting.
Taking hold of the horn, she put her left leg in the stirrup. Success! So far… Leaning forward, she tried to swing herself up and into the saddle, but her right leg acted like the dead weight it was, throwing her off balance.
Letting out an exasperated hiss, she made another attempt, but still, her leg kept her down.
“Here.”
The voice made Cadence jump. Beau stood right next to her, having silently snuck up while she flailed about like a fish out of water. Hot shame filled her, but there was no disgust in his eyes. In fact, there was nothing readable there.
“Let me help.” He offered his hand. Cadence looked at it for a long moment before shaking her head.
“Thank you, but I… I feel it is important that I do this myself. The next time I need to get on, there might not be anyone there to assist me.”
“I understand,” he huskily said and stepped back. “It might help if you move faster, if you can. Use the ground as a spring, not the stirrup.”
It was good advice that she hadn’t thought of. Still painfully aware of his presence, Cadence took a couple steps back, gathered her energy, and threw herself forward. Her fingers closed around the horn and she leaped from the ground, using the lame leg she so often tried not to even think about as a crutch to push off from.
With a squeal of excitement, she landed in the saddle. Pip sidestepped nervously, his ears flicking, and Cadence patted his neck.
“It is all right, boy. I will try to be gentler next time.”
By the barn, Beau watched with folded arms. “I know you probably don’t want to hear this from me, but good job.”
Cadence looked away, competing emotions rising in her. She did not want to acknowledge what he was saying, but he had helped her out. Despite their difficulties, she was grateful for that.
“Thank you. Have a good day, Beau.”
She did not wait for his answer. The morning was rising and Shallow Springs’ schoolhouse waited for its new teacher.
By the time Pip galloped into town, a knot of worry had formed in Cadence’s stomach. She was excited, but terrified as well. Filling in as a governess was one thing, but being a schoolteacher? What if it required skills she knew nothing about?
Teaching two small children was easy. A whole room of students ranging in ages would be… Cadence didn’t know just what it would be.
But she was determined to figure it out. There was no other option.
Hitching Pip under the trees by the schoolhouse, she hauled some water from the nearby well and filled the trough for him. School was not due to begin for another hour, but she was meeting Mrs. Flaherty there early to receive the building’s key.
Taking a position on the front steps, Cadence gazed out at the town. The schoolhouse’s location on a rise on the north side of town provided an unobscured view of most of Shallow Springs. The fall light, bright and clear, made the sleepy town look like something out of a painting. Cadence sighed in pleasure. Yes, this place was a great improvement on Baltimore.
“Good morning,” a woman sing-sang as she ambled toward the school. “You are Miss Hurley, I imagine.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Cadence quickly nodded. “I am.”
“Wonderful. Let’s get inside and get you settled. The children are excited to meet you.”
Mrs. Flaherty showed Cadence how to work the finicky lock, then gave the grand tour of the one room. With four rows of seats broken up with one aisle, a teacher’s desk, and a stove for heating, there was hardly any space left in the school.
Cadence walked to the front of the room and touched the blackboard. It was smooth against her fingertips and the thick smell of the chalk sticks filled her nose.
“The oldest ones don’t usually come to school during harvest times,” Mrs. Flaherty was saying. “So, it’s hard to say where they are in their studies. I always encourage them to keep up at home, but, gracious, you know… Other things take priority. The wood pile is out back. You’ll have to keep an eye on it. The older boys can chop and haul wood when more is needed… Well? What do you think?”
Cadence went to the bare desk and touched its corner. She needed to experience things that way. Placing her fingertips against objects made them seem more real.
“It is wonderful,” she breathed.
“Good.” Mrs. Flaherty nodded. “It’s been a nice, long run and I hate to be going, but I’m getting old. You know how it is.” She studied Cadence and laughed. “Then again, maybe you don’t.”
Somewhere outside, children shouted. Cadence’s very soul trembled.
“Here they come.” Mrs. Flaherty stepped close to Cadence and lowered her voice. “Listen. Don’t let them give you a hard time about anything.” Her eyes meaningfully dropped down to Cadence’s leg.
“You’re the boss. You need to assert yourself. Once you do that, everything will be just right and dandy.”
Cadence’s throa
t was too dry. All she could do was nod.
The door opened and two little boys came in, quickly followed by several more children. They stopped the shouting when they saw the women waiting for them, quieting down and going to take their seats. Whatever Mrs. Flaherty had been doing in the school, apparently, it was the right thing.
They waited a few minutes more, staying at the front of the room as the rest of the class filed in. Twelve students. That was all. The town’s population was just as low as Cadence had suspected.
“Class,” Mrs. Flaherty loudly said. “This is your new teacher, Miss Hurley. Let’s give her a proper good morning.”
“Good morning, Miss Hurley,” the class recited.
Cadence smiled at them. “Good morning, everyone.”
Quick as a whip, a little boy sitting in the front shot his hand into the air. “Are you an actress?”
“Am I a… I’m sorry? An actress?”
“Teddy,” Mrs. Flaherty sternly said.
“What?” he squealed. “She’s real beautiful!”
Cadence had to bite down on her lip to stop from giggling. “No, I am not an actress, Teddy. But thank you very much for the compliment. Now, let me ask you a question. Are you a scientist?”
Teddy wrinkled his nose. “What? No! I’m six!”
Cadence clapped her hands together. “You don’t say? Why, you’re so smart and well-spoken for six, I thought surely you were a scientist. Or perhaps a professor at a big university.”
Teddy laughed. “You’re funny.”
“Would you like to be any of those things?”
“I’m gonna be a farmer,” he answered.
“Me, too,” another kid interjected. “So, I don’t need to learn math.”
Cadence’s stomach clenched, but she kept her calm.
“Farmers need math. How else are they going to keep count of their harvests? Their seeds? How are they going to track the market and know whether they are getting a fair price for everything?”
None of the kids answered.
“We need math,” Teddy finally peeped. “We all need math!”
“Exactly.” She caught Mrs. Flaherty’s eye and the previous teacher smiled. So, with that, Cadence’s career was off and running.
Chapter Eight
8. Beau
Chapter eight
Settling down at his little table, Beau cracked Frankenstein. The candlelight licked across the title page, which Beau had to look over twice just to remember what he was reading.
He didn’t get his hands on books much, seeing as fiction was hard to come by in Wyoming Territory. Gemma liked to read those dime westerns, exaggerated portrayals about living out west. Beau had tried a couple of them, but they’d never grabbed his interest.
Mrs. Garrison was an avid reader, though, and always ordering books. Whenever she finished with one, she turned it over to Beau. He usually ripped through them in less than a week—a few days, if his workload was light. But tonight, he couldn’t focus. He felt restless, full of energy.
Giving up on the book, he stood and paced the one-room home.
Most of the ranch hand cabins were shared by two people, but he’d gotten lucky a few months ago when one of the hands had quit, leaving an odd number of workers.
He was just considering walking up to the north field to check the cattle there when someone let out a whooping yell. Crossing the room, Beau yanked open the door. Two figures stumbled through the dark.
“What are you all doing out here?” Beau demanded.
Lonnie and Nat laughed and stepped forward. Nat’s arms were full of firewood and Lonnie carried a guitar.
“Come on, Beau,” Lonnie crowed. “Don’t be a stick in the mud. We gon’ have a fire.”
Beau crossed his arms and gave Lonnie a hard glare. The petulant boy didn’t see it, though, as he was already stumbling back off into the dark.
Snorting, Beau closed his door behind him. He wasn’t up to much, anyway…
Following the two was easy, on account of all the noise they were making. As they journeyed to the fire pit down at the end of the cabin rows, other hands joined them. Someone brought their fiddle and another person had a harmonica. Even Samuel, who hardly ever smiled or spoke unless he had a criticism, was there with a grin.
Beau helped build the fire, making an A with a few small sticks to get the kindling going. The dry bark took right away, the flames crackling and reaching up toward the stars.
A note from the fiddle pierced the night air, ringing out clear and sharp. Somewhere far off, a coyote yipped, maybe in response to the music. Mutt and Bubba’s ears shot up and the two dogs growled before taking off in the direction the yip had come from.
“Go get him, boys,” Nat laughed.
Beau settled onto one of the logs they used as seats and stared into the fire. It was growing fast, making his front too hot while his back was still too cold. That was the way a good Autumn fire was.
Taking note of the party, Mitch and the remainder of the ranch hands joined. Songs flowed, feet stomped, and a bottle of whiskey—which Beau declined—made its way around the circle.
This was much better than sitting alone in a quiet cabin, trying to read.
“What do you all think you are doing?” a shrill voice asked.
The chatter died. All eyes darted to the edge of the firelight, where Clara stood with her hands on her hips. “Are you having a shindig without inviting me? You all fancy me too old to enjoy myself?”
“Naw,” Nat laughed. “Too wild! We knew we couldn’t handle your kind of fun, Clara.”
“Oh, hush.” She playfully pushed his shoulder. “Scoot over and let an old woman have a seat.”
No sooner had she sat down than another figure emerged from the darkness. It was Gemma, wrapped up in coat and hat. But she wasn’t alone. She tugged on the hand of a reluctant Cadence.
“Gemma,” Cadence forcefully whispered.
“Just for a bit!” At the edge of the group, Gemma let Cadence’s hand go and skipped over to join her husband. Cadence’s eyes caught Beau’s and for a long moment, they just looked at each other, a quiet understanding there.
Cadence Hurley wasn’t a woman who liked being surrounded by others. Beau got that. Lived and breathed it, sometimes.
Scooting over some, he gestured to the empty space on the log. Cadence bit down on her lower lip, eyes flitting all around, before she tentatively carved a path along the fire’s edge and came to sit next to him.
“Hello,” she tensely said.
“Evening.”
Cadence busied herself with arranging her skirts.
Beau cleared his throat, stretched his legs out, then brought them back in. Every little move he made seemed too large and wrong.
“How was your first day of school?”
Cadence’s long lashes fluttered. “It was nice. Thank you.”
Another minute passed. Around them, the festivities went on, but Cadence and Beau were in their own quiet, little bubble. He wanted to pop it, but also to never leave it.
“I thought you would not be interested in how my day went.” She stared straight at him, daring him to answer.
“Why is that?”
“You did not even look at me at supper.”
Beau’s mouth was filling up with cotton. Where was that whiskey bottle? Maybe he should have taken a sip from it after all.
“It is fine,” Cadence tersely went on. “You and I are… different.”
Yes, he’d been thinking something along the same lines himself. He’d believed it best if they just steered clear of each other, but hearing Cadence say it out loud made a difference. It… hurt.
“Not so different,” he said. “I can tell you’re not one for parties.”
She lowered her face, trying to hide the smile there. A burst of heat exploded in Beau’s heart and rushed its way through his whole chest, wildfire sweeping across a prairie on a dry summer’s day. This was trouble.
Were the students good to
you? How did the ride on Pip go? Do you like reading? You must, if you know enough to be a teacher. I have Frankenstein in my cabin. I can loan it to you, if you’d like.
Her Wild Journey (Seeing Ranch series) (A Western Historical Romance Book) Page 5