by Danni Roan
A Teaching Touch
Tales from Biders Clump
Dedicated, in loving memory,
To
Grover (Buddy) Butler.
A true educator whose life and teaching touched so many.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Epilogue
Chapter 1
Mr. Grady Gatlin walked along the dusty street of Binders Clump, his hands tucked in the pockets of his warmest coat. Arriving in the middle of winter hadn’t been his first preference, but as he’d been offered the post in the tiny town, he could hardly turn it down because of the weather.
Spring was finally on its way, but the cold blustery winds roaring down from the high peaks of the Rocky Mountains that dwarfed the western town still held a touch of snow.
Shrugging, he turned his collar up against the breeze with a shiver.
“You cold?” a little voice piped as a child of about four raced up beside him. “It ain’t hardly cold at all.”
The big man in the too-thin coat turned to smile down at the tow-headed figure of Billy Stanley. “Aren’t you cold, Billy?” he asked, his deep voice a gentle purr.
“Nah!” the boy skipped a step to keep up with Mr. Gatlin. “I likes the cold.” He tugged at his flat brimmed hat, thwarting the wind’s attempt to steal it. “My pa says I’m hot blooded.” He grinned; his cherubic features alight with a devilish gleam.
“Where are your brothers?” Mr. Gatlin asked, slowing his pace to the boy’s; his long legs and tall, broad frame covered distance easily.
“I don’ know,” Billy shrugged, “probably catchin’ fish or somethin’. They’ll fetch me when their ready, I s’pose.”
Billy Stanley was the youngest of Mr. Gatlin’s students. A boy of four who thought he was already old enough to keep up with his four brothers and full of more spunk and mischief than the big man could have believed.
“Well why don’t you walk on over to the boarding house with me and we’ll see if Ms. Polly has a treat for us and maybe a warm seat by the kitchen stove?”
Billy grinned, his wide, innocent blue eyes belying his penchant for trouble.
Dark clouds scudded overhead and Mr. Gatlin shivered again.
“You’d best git inside pretty quick,” Billy mused picking up his pace, “you might catch new-mon-i-a, and then who’d teach us?” He skidded off at a run for the boarding house on the far side of the street and with a chuckle, the big man trotted after him.
“That you, Grady?” a woman’s high voice called as he stepped through the door of the two-story building, ushering the boy with him.
“Yes ma’am, Ms. Polly,” he called in a soft rumble. “I brought company.”
Through the frame of the door at the end of a short hallway, an older woman leaned into the light, a potato in one hand and a knife in the other, the gray bun of hair on the top of her head wobbling as she bent backwards, trying to see down the corridor.
“Land sakes, if it isn’t Billy Stanley. Your brothers lettin’ you run loose again?” she queried with a smile. “Best come into the kitchen where it’s warm,” she added before the boy could reply. “I’ve got milk and cookies for little boys who’s done their lessons.”
Billy looked up at Mr. Gatlin, a worried expression on his face, but then he grinned when a russet brown eye winked at him with a twinkle.
“Now Ms. Polly, Billy did all his math work today.” He started hanging his coat on a peg and headed for a chair at the long table. “His reading might have caused him some discomfort, though.”
Billy Stanley had the good sense to flush, but grinned nonetheless. “I did all my sums today, Ms. Polly.” His voice was half pleading as the older woman laid a plate of cookies on the table alongside a pitcher of milk.
“Well, I reckon that if your teacher’s happy with your work I won’t put up a fuss, but you go wash your hands before you touch my cookies,” she added, her deep blue eyes flashing and stopping the boy's hand that hovered over the plate.
The chair the boy had scrabbled up onto teetered precariously as he leapt out of it and headed for the sink.
Polly scowled at him, but then turned and winked at her houseguest, who’d deftly caught the chair before it could tip all the way to the floor.
“Coffee, Grady?” she asked, keeping an eye on the little fella splashing water about in the sink.
“Yes, ma’am,” he grinned.
Polly Esther Olson reached for a mug and a glass from an upper shelf over the worktable, plunking them on the table with a grin.
Mr. Gatlin had arrived in January to an icy, snow-covered town and a tiny schoolroom full of children. She studied him as she poured coffee almost as black as his hair into the cup and slid it toward him. The young man, southern born and bred, had found those first months a challenge and a misery as he settled into the role of chief education bringer for Biders Clump.
“Mr. Gatlin, how’s come you live with Ms. Polly and Mr. George?” Billy asked, drying his hands on a towel Polly handed him. “Why ain’t you got no wife like other fellas?”
Polly scowled at the precocious boy, but Grady only chuckled. “I guess I haven’t found the right woman is all.”
Billy scrabbled back up into his chair and lifted a cookie from the plate before him, only hesitating as the treat reached his lips. “Thank you, Ms. Polly,” he said quickly, then began eating.
“Yer kinda getting old ain’t ya?” Billy asked innocently as he reached for his glass of milk.
“Billy Stanley, you should not be asking questions like that,” Polly chided.
“It’s alright, Ms. Polly,” Grady smiled gently, “answering questions is kind of in my job description.” His dark eyes sparkled cheerfully. “Now Billy, what Ms. Polly is trying to say is that generally it’s not polite to ask people how old they are.”
“Why not? People ask me all the time and I tell 'em I’m four and a half.”
Polly grinned, the smile reaching her piercing blue eyes. “This should be good,” she said, pouring herself a cup of coffee and settling at the table expectantly.
“When you’re very young it’s hard for people to tell how old you are, but when people get older they don’t like people to know how old they are.”
“That seems kinda silly,” Billy said, wrinkling his brow, “it’s only a number after all.”
Grady reached over and ruffled the boy’s blonde hair. “Eat your cookie.” The teacher continued, “Your brothers will be along soon.”
“Yeah, but they don’t get no cookies.” Billy looked serious for a minute. “Besides Mr. Gatlin, it don’t matter how old I git, I ain’t never getting’ married.” His little face was serious. “All girls have cooties.” He wrinkled his nose, making his feelings quite clear.
“We’re here, Polly” George Olson’s voice echoed down the hallway as the front door opened and closed.
“In the kitchen, George,” Polly called, rising and pulling down two more cups and moving the heavy black tea kettle onto a hotter ring of the cook stove.
Grady Gatlin looked up as George escorted a young woman into the kitchen and immediately sprang to his feet politely.
“This here’s Rebecca,” George offered to everyone. “She just got in on the afternoon train.”
“Welcome,” Polly offered. “I
’m making tea if you’d like some.”
“Thank you,” the woman replied softly, pushing a lock of ginger brown hair out of her eyes. She looked tired and Grady pulled out a chair.
“I’m Grady Gatlin,” he offered, “the school teacher of Biders Clump.”
“Pleased to meet you.” The young woman smiled only slightly as she assessed him with pale blue eyes while sinking wearily into the proffered chair.
“And I’m Billy,” Billy interjecting drawing a bit of a smile from the newcomer. “Mr. Gatlin lets me come ta school even though I’m only four and a half.” He grinned brightly. “Here, have a cookie,” he added, pushing his own plate toward her. “Ms. Polly makes good cookies.”
“How very chivalrous of you,” Rebecca smiled more fully this time.
“You ain’t eatin’ all my cookies, are ya Billy?” George asked, looking stern.
“No sir, Mr. George, ever’one knows you like cookies. We would never eat ‘em all.”
Polly placed a cup and saucer before the newcomer. “I hope you didn’t have too rough a trip,” she queried, pouring hot water in to a small, black teapot.
“It was rather long,” Rebecca commented, “but nothing I’m not used to.”
“Gee wilkers yer pretty.” Billy once again interrupted, gazing up at the newcomer dreamily and making the older folks smile. “I bet you ain't hardly got any cooties at all.”
“Didn’t you just tell us that all girls have cooties?” Grady asked, a twinkle in his eye.
Billy blushed but was saved from further embarrassment by his brother’s knock at the door.
“Gotta go,” the boy chimed, jumping to his feet. “Bye, and thanks for the cookies, Ms. Polly,” he shot over his shoulder before he was quite out the door.
The assembled adults chuckled, shaking their heads at the boy’s antics.
Rebecca, still smiling softly, lifted her cup of tea to her lips and sighed, easing the fine lines around her eyes as she sipped and her shoulders visibly relaxed.
“You still feel like you’re swaying on the train?” Grady asked, a slight hitch in his voice.
“It feels like the whole world is swaying to and fro.”
“Well you just sit there and enjoy your tea, then I’ll show you to your room and you can have a rest before supper,” Polly offered kindly, setting a cup of coffee in front of George, who had taken a seat at the end of the big table.
“When I came out from back East, I could still hear the clickity clack for two days,” Grady offered, lifting two digits to indicate how long.
Again, the young woman sipped from her cup as she studied him with serious eyes. “I’m sure I’ll recover,” she finally said, once she sat her cup back on the table. “Ms. Polly, can’t I help with the cooking?”
“No, you’ll get enough of that once me and George go over to Montana to visit our oldest daughter Althea.”
“Oh, you aren’t a guest here at the boarding house?” Grady asked, curiously.
“Ms. Rebecca is the woman who has agreed to look after the boarding house while we’re away,” Polly replied.
For a moment, Grady looked between the two women, mild confusion in his dark eyes.
“Ya thought she’d be older didn’t ya?” George whispered, elbowing his houseguest in a thick shoulder, then chuckling at the slight flush that rose up the man’s face.
“If you’re ready, I’ll show you your room now,” Polly spoke, cutting scolding eyes at her husband, who bit into a cookie with a smile.
“That would be lovely,” Rebecca said, rising, then reached out for the chair back as her legs wobbled beneath her. A strong hand came to rest under her elbow, steadying her, as Grady gently guided her around the chair.
“Thank you,” she said, her eyes falling. “I must be more tired than I realized.”
“You go on up with Polly now,” George spoke lifting his mug. “I’ll bring your things up in a bit.”
“I put you at the top of the stairs,” Polly’s voice was already echoing down the hall and Rebecca scurried to catch up in a few steps.
“I thought you’d like being close to the stairs so’s you can come down before the guests and such without wakin’ anyone,” Polly continued. “For now though, you get a little rest. The bathroom’s just over the other side of the hall.” She smiled, opening a solid wood door exposing a room with cabbage rose wallpaper.
“What a lovely room, Ms. Polly. I couldn’t believe my luck when you wrote and offered me a job. I wasn’t quite sure what I was to do for myself when I got back. This job was a true answer to prayer.”
Polly Esther Olson smiled at the young woman. “I’d been lookin’ for someone to help out for a while now, so your ad was a god send for me an’ George. We don’t get to see them grandbabies near enough.” Her eyes were soft with affection. “Now you have a rest and I’ll call you for supper.”
With that, the older woman turned on her heel and left.
Rebecca Carol closed the doors and pulled the pins securing her small hat to her light brown hair. It felt wonderful to have the hat off and she pulled the rest of the hairpins from her hair, letting it fall loose down her back.
She was so happy to have finally come to a stop. She felt weary, stretched thin. It had been a long, tiring journey and the big bed looked inviting. Sitting on the edge of the bed she unlaced her sturdy boots, kicked them out of the way, and collapsed in exhaustion.
Chapter 2
“What should we do?” a male voice rumbled softly through the door.
“If she's sleepin' we should just let her sleep,” another countered.
“But what about her things?”
“We'll leave 'em here and then Polly can see to anything else.”
A silence assent seemed to echo loudly through the upper floor of the Biders Clump boarding house.
Rebecca Carol smiled sleepily. George and Grady needed to learn the meaning of the word whisper. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she climbed to her feet and moved to the washbasin.
The water was cool and refreshing as she washed her hands and face. She did not think she would have time to take a proper bath before supper as the sun was already sitting low on the horizon, so she was grateful for the old-fashioned washstand that still sat in her room.
Drying her face, she listened to the retreating steps of the two men and examined her surroundings. The room was lush in comparison to what she had been accustomed to in her last post.
A large, four-poster bed of dark red wood and a tall, highboy dresser with undulating drawers in the same wood reflected the golden rays of light that spilled through the window onto its polished surface.
Stretching to try to loosen some of the tightness in her back and shoulders, Rebecca tidied her hair and opened the door. It was amazing what a bit of sleep could do to restore a person's mind and body.
She smiled again as she saw her two suitcases tucked neatly against the wall. Wrapping her hands around the handle of each case, she lifted them and carried them into her room.
“Lord thank you for this new position,” she spoke into the quietness. “It isn't what I expected, but I'm truly thankful. I'm sorry for failing you in my other mission, but am grateful that you have not forsaken me in my weakness.”
***
“Did ya have a nice sleep?” Polly cast over her shoulder as Rebecca entered the kitchen.
"Yes ma'am."
"Oh none of that now. You just call me Polly," the older woman chided, waving a dismissive hand.
"Then you must call me Becky, as my sister does." The girl smiled, but sorrow reflected in her pale eyes.
"There's an extra apron over there," Polly continued, tipping her head toward a cupboard where a fresh apron hung.
"Oh, this is lovely," Becky said, lifting down the item and slipping it over her head. The soft butter yellow reflected lightly on her skin, brightening its sallow tone.
"I make 'em up now and then," Polly said, continuing to chop onions into a large iron skille
t where thin strips of calf's liver was already sizzling.
"That smells wonderful," the younger woman spoke.
"You like liver and onions?" Polly asked, now adding a pinch of salt.
"Yes, of course. My sister hated it, though."
"Some do, some don't. George likes it and Grady doesn't seem to have a problem with it, either."
"What can I do to help?" Rebecca asked, gazing around the roomy kitchen.
"Why don't you set the table?" Polly said. "We'll need six settings, if you don't mind. You'll find everything on the shelf there."
Again, she tipped her head toward the neat stack of dishes on the shelves near the sink, making the white bun of hair on the top of her head wobble.
"Do you have other guests?"
"No but Sara and Rafe are comin' over. They'll be stayin' here while me and George are away. I figured we'd best have a married couple around for when other guests come to stay and such."
"That seems wise," Rebecca agreed. "The Bible reminds us to avoid all appearances of evil."
Polly Esther smiled. "Never hurts to be careful."
"You have a lovely kitchen," Rebecca commented as she placed each setting on the large table. "There's plenty of room for guests."
"We make do," Polly agreed, plating up the meat and onions and slipping them into the warmer at the top of the cook stove.
"Are you often busy?"
"Sometimes in the summer and fall we get a good number of guests, but mostly it's just people passin' through on the train. That's why we decided to go visitin' this spring, when it ain't so busy."
Polly bent over and pulled a pan of fresh bread rolls from the oven, the smell filling the kitchen and making Rebecca's stomach rumble.
"Tomorrow I'll show ya around the place and let you know where everything is. It'll be a fair bit of work with the chickens and cow, but with only Grady and the Dixon's to cook for; I don't think it'll be too hard."
"I'm sure I'll be fine," Rebecca said. "I'm used to, shall we say, a more primitive environment."
"Hello?" A man's voice echoed down the hall from the front door and was quickly followed by that of a young woman.