The School Mistress (Emerson Pass Book 1)

by Tess Thompson

  Around noon the next day, I headed over to talk to the Higgins brothers about what they knew. They were both behind the counter, although the shop was empty of customers.

  “Good timing, Lord Barnes,” Wayne said. “We were about to close up for a short lunch break. Care to join us?”

  “I’ve eaten, but would be happy to sit with you.”

  “Follow me,” Clive said as we walked to the back of the store where the brothers shared a small office.

  While Wayne unpacked stacks of sandwiches and set them on the desk, Clive offered me a glass of whiskey. I politely declined. “It’s a little early for me.”

  They didn’t waste any time with more niceties and launched into their reason for asking me here. “I don’t know if it means anything, but Kellam was in the saloon after Cole was killed. Drunk, as usual,” Clive said.

  “Running his mouth,” Wayne said.

  “About?” I asked.

  Wayne unwrapped his sandwich as if it were a Christmas present. “He said he overheard Carter and some of those old men that hang around his shop playing checkers all day talking about how they were going to make sure the Cole kids didn’t show up at school.”

  “He said they were getting a group together to go out and talk to Cole,” Clive said. “Set him straight that they best keep to themselves or there would be trouble.”

  “What else did he say?” I asked.

  “That was about it,” Clive said. “We told him he should go to the sheriff and report what he’d heard. But you know how it is with drunks. You can’t reason with them.”

  “True enough,” I said.

  “He doesn’t look after that daughter of his,” Clive said. “Poor little thing’s in here all the time begging for scraps.”

  “She came in last week and asked if we had anything for her,” Wayne said. “She was limping and holding herself real careful, like she was hurt. I think that bastard beats her.”

  Clive swallowed a bite of sandwich before continuing. “I asked if her pa had any luck hunting and she said he tried but never could get anything.”

  “A drunk fool like that isn’t going to be able to hit a jackrabbit,” Wayne said.

  “Anyway, we told this to the sheriff already,” Clive said.

  “But we thought we better tell you, too,” Wayne said.

  “We didn’t get the feeling the sheriff cared too much one way or the other,” Clive said.

  I stood and prepared to go. “Thanks, gentlemen. I appreciate it.”

  “Let us know if you need anything,” Clive said.

  “Anything at all,” Wayne said. “As long as this stays between us. We don’t need any trouble.”

  “You have my word.”

  I found Sheriff Lancaster playing cards at the saloon. We made eye contact, and he gave me a slight nod. “Give me a second, Barnes.”

  “Sure.”

  I took a stool at the counter and made small talk with Murphy while I waited.

  A few minutes later, Lancaster cursed and threw down his cards. “Too rich for me.” He stood and grabbed his cowboy hat from the rack and nodded toward the door. Outside, he tilted his head toward the sky and sniffed, like a dog on a hunt, then walked through the alley to the back of the building. I had no choice but to follow him. Lancaster wasn’t one to take direction. He’d made it quite clear my English title meant nothing to him. Nor did the fact that I owned every building in town.

  Most likely from years on a horse, the sheriff walked bowlegged. His lanky, skinny frame didn’t seem inclined to move fast as he took a cigarette from his denim pants pocket and stuck it in his mouth. I wondered what he’d be like in a shoot-out. Did he draw his gun in the lazy way he walked? If so, I hoped we didn’t have any shoot-outs on his watch.

  Murphy had shoveled the snow around the back side of the building as well as the front, making it a good place to talk. Lancaster leaned against the brick wall and lowered his hat, shielding his eyes from my view. With a white handlebar mustache and a face with more crevices than the volcanic rock formations I’d seen during my visits south, he was as crusty as they came.

  “What do you want?” He struck a match against the brick and lit his cigarette.

  I told him what I’d learned from the Higgins boys. “They said they already told you. I wanted to see what you knew.”

  “Yeah, I talked to them. Those boys at Carter’s were just blowing off steam.” He took a long drag from his cigarette. “What do you know about Kellam?”

  “Not much. I know his daughter’s attending school without his knowledge and that Miss Cooper is worried about him coming to her classroom and dragging the poor child out by her hair.”

  I waited as he let out a long stream of smoke from his lungs. One couldn’t be in a hurry with this fellow.

  “I went out and talked to Mrs. Cole a few times.” He had the raspy timbre of a heavy smoker. I wanted to give him a glass of water. “She told me about the financial arrangement her husband made for her.”

  I watched him carefully. Where was he going with this? Would I have to fight him for her right to the money? “Yes. What’s that have to do with his murder?”

  “It puts you as the prime suspect.”

  My immediate reaction was to lambaste him, but I held my temper and answered calmly. “Samuel Cole was a rich man, true. In comparison to my own wealth, however, it was of no consequence.”

  “That right?”

  “That’s right. Anyway, Samuel was my friend.”

  “What about her? Any motive to get rid of him?” The tip of his skinny, hand-rolled cigarette burned orange as he took another drag.

  “They had a good marriage despite the tensions from the outside world.”

  He tossed the cigarette on the ground and stomped it with the heel of his boot. “Let me know if you hear anything else, but you need to prepare yourself. This murder may never be solved.”

  “Isn’t it your job to do so? The governor sent you out here to keep law.”

  “Let me put it to you this way. As far as I’m concerned, the guy got what he deserved. He brought a woman like that here and lived with her like man and wife. What did he expect?” Without another word, he sauntered away, disappearing around the corner of the building.

  I picked up his cigarette and tossed it in the trash bin Murphy kept near the back door. Then I headed down to the barbershop.

  I entered through the front door of Carter’s barbershop. All heads turned, and the room silenced. Carter was giving the postmaster, Ray Owens, a shave. At a table in the front, two bearded men I didn’t know played checkers. Two others I’d seen around town read a newspaper and smoked hand-rolled cigarettes. The room smelled of smoke and shaving cream.

  “Looking for a shave, Barnes?” Carter asked.

  Matthew Carter was in his fifties with a paunch, a long white beard, and white hair slicked back with thick pomade. He was a good tenant, never late with his rent or outwardly hostile. However, I’d heard from others that he resented my power and money.

  “I’m here about Cole’s murder,” I said. “Wondering if you gentlemen know anything about that.” Cigarette smoke hovered near the ceiling like a cloud cover.

  “What would we know?” Carter asked.

  “You and your friends here have let your opinions be known when it came to the Cole children going to school.” I left it at that, hoping to bait someone into talking.

  “Like you said, no secret there,” Carter said as he scraped the blade across Owen’s chin in short, fluid movements.

  “Did you dislike it enough to kill a man?” I asked.

  Carter didn’t bother to look up from his work. “Not sure what you mean.” Scrape, scrape, scrape went his blade.

  “I heard something about a group of men joining up to go out and talk with Cole. You know anything about that?”

  “Can’t say as I do,” Carter said. “But talking ain’t the same as killing.”

  The rest of them were all back to pretending to pl
ay checkers and reading the paper.

  “May I ask why you care?” I asked.

  Carter lifted his head to look at me. “Listen, Barnes, you may own most of this town, but you don’t own our thoughts. This is America. We’re free to think however we please. I don’t want their kind here. As much money as you have, you can’t control our opinions. You don’t like it? Too bad.”

  “I don’t like it. My friend’s dead because of a bigot. I’ll find out the truth. Trust me, whoever was involved will pay.”

  “You’re not going to find answers here,” Carter said.

  That was clear. I tipped my hat and left. Once outside, I drew in a deep breath.

  Knowing I wouldn’t be able to concentrate back at my office, I headed toward the park. Often, I’d eat my lunch there and watch the ducks. I trudged with some care through the banks of snow caused by the plow Harley had used earlier to clear the streets. The storefronts had been shoveled but were slick under my feet.

  Harley and I had planted grass, laid brick walkways, and built benches around the pond, creating a park for picnics and family gatherings in warm months and ice-skating during the winter. Only a couple feet deep, the water was too shallow for swimming. However, it made for great ice-skating in the winter months. Today, a thick layer of ice covered the pond and was likely to remain until late March. I brushed several inches of new snow from a bench near the water’s edge and sat. The sun hung low in the sky and shed a wintry blue light over the landscape.

  With great squawking and fluttering of wings, a flock of black-and-white ducks swooped over the pond and onto the ice. Surprised by the slick surface, they slid on their feathered bellies. Affronted by this indignity, they rose on their webbed feet and took tiny steps, then slid a few inches and repeated the cycle, all the while pecking the ice with their bills. Their quacks sounded more like bleats as they complained to one another. Food sources this time of year were at the mercy of the weather.

  As I sat there, I thought through my next move. If today had taught me anything, it was that Samuel’s death was not going to be solved by the sheriff. I had nothing to go on, other than a suspicion his murder had been caused by bigotry. I had to come to a reconciliation that I might never know who killed my friend. Until Rachel forgave me, I couldn’t do much for her, either.

  Agitated, I left the ducks to their hopeless search for bugs in the ice and walked back toward the main street. Before I knew it, I found myself in the yard of the schoolhouse. Just to check on Miss Cooper and the children, I told myself as I trudged through the snow to the front steps. I pulled out my pocket watch to check the time. Just after two. They would let out for recess in a few minutes. I peered through the windows. Miss Cooper was at her desk with four of the children. The rest were leaned over their lessons.

  Perhaps sensing my presence, she raised her head and spotted me. Embarrassed to be caught, I raised a hand in a wave. She smiled and nodded. That smile. I swear my heart grew larger in my chest.

  Chapter 17

  Quinn

  The days rolled by one after the other as we settled into a happy routine. After breakfast, the children, Lord Barnes, and I hustled into the sleigh and Harley took us all into town. Lord Barnes went off to his office while the children and I went inside the warm classroom. The school day flew by for me. I hoped it did for my students. They all seemed content enough and were so well behaved I worried something might be wrong with them. Did the mountain air deprive them of oxygen and make them submissive? When I asked Lord Barnes about this theory, he laughed and said it was my superior discipline skills at work. Like a silly schoolgirl, I basked in the glow of his compliment all day.

  In the afternoons, Harley came for all of us and we made our way home, stimulated from the cold, fresh air and hungry for tea. Lizzie and Merry always had refreshments ready for us when we returned. Then, the children could do as they pleased for the hour or so before supper. I took the opportunity to write letters home or to read in the library during this time. Lord Barnes often did the same, sitting at his large desk in the corner, the sound of his pen dipping in and out of his inkwell a comforting sound as I wrote from the smaller desk.

  Lord Barnes insisted I eat supper in the dining room with him and the children.

  When I asked Lizzie if this was appropriate, she gave me a strange smile and patted me on the shoulder. “Dear, Lord Barnes makes his own rules. If he asked you to sit with the family, then it’s perfectly fine. I suspect he’s happy for the company.”

  I was also happy for the company. I’d never met a man as interesting or as curious about such a variety of subjects. Throughout supper, he entertained the children and me with his stories of his travels. He’d been all over Europe and even to the tip of Africa. “Nowhere felt like home,” he said one night. “Until I came here.”

  After supper, I would get the children ready for bed, supervising baths and checking to make sure Flynn had washed behind his ears. When they were ready, I would read to them as I had that first night, all snuggled together in the girls’ room.

  By the end of the week, I was tired but happy as I closed the flue on the stove in my classroom. The Barnes flock was playing in the snow in the last light of the November afternoon. I’d just pinned my hat to my head when Harley appeared.

  “Harley, you didn’t have to come for me. I’m on my way out,” I said.

  “It’s not that, Miss Cooper.” He took off his newsboy cap and held it in both hands with his gaze directed at the floor. “I had a question for you. About night school.”

  “Of course.” I stuck the last pin in my hat and reached for my coat.

  “I’ve never had any school. Other than knowing how to write my name and a few other words, I can’t read any English.”

  “Not having opportunities is nothing to be ashamed of. There’s only shame in not taking them when they’re presented to you.”

  He nodded. “I suppose. I’m worried I’m too stupid to learn.”

  “I’m a very good teacher,” I said. “And you’re a bright young man. Lord Barnes wouldn’t trust you with his beloved estate if that weren’t true.”

  Harley flashed a sheepish smile and rubbed a wayward curl back into place. “I’ll be bringing Miss Merry with me.”

  “I’m glad.” Merry’s assessment that Harley didn’t know she was alive might not be true, given the way his cheeks bloomed red.

  He gestured toward the door. “After you, Miss Cooper.”

  I locked the schoolhouse door and joined the children in the sleigh.

  We were all quiet as we headed down Main Street toward Lord Barnes’s office. Even the Barnes children were tired after a long week of school. The Johnson girls were already at work in their father’s shop and waved to us as we drove by. I spotted Isak sweeping the floor of the tailor shop. His father was bent over his work, sewing something by hand. We passed by the apothecary and the Higgins Brothers Butcher. A few men in the barbershop were playing checkers while Mr. Carter gave a man a shave.

  The cloud cover was close and gray. By the time we pulled up in front of Lord Barnes’s office, large, fat flakes fell from the sky.

  He must have been waiting for us because the moment we stopped, he came out the side door of the building looking dashing in his black coat and fedora. “Hello, family,” he said.

  The children all called out to him as he climbed in next to me.

  “Miss Cooper, how was your day?”

  “Quite fine, thank you. And yours?”

  “Better now.” Lord Barnes winked at me as he tucked the blankets around my lap. “What more could a man ask for than this?”

  I brushed a snowflake from my cheek, unsure what he meant.

  He leaned close and whispered in my ear. “A sleigh ride home next to the prettiest woman in town.”

  “Lord Barnes!” I whispered back, pretending to be horrified by his boldness.

  “All I do is speak the truth, Miss Cooper.”

  Flustered, I turned away to watch t
he flakes of snow dance in the frosty air and smiled to myself. If he only knew how my heart raced in his presence or how I longed for a kiss. What was happening to me?

  When I woke the next morning, the sky was a vibrant blue. Two new feet of snow sparkled like tiny crystals under the sun. Hearing the voices of children, I washed and dressed quickly and went to round them up for breakfast. Flynn and Cymbeline were already up and gone outside to play, Josephine informed me when I entered the girls’ bedroom. “On Saturdays, the staff has the day off, which means we take care of the animals and our own meals.” She sat sideways on the window seat behind Fiona. They wore plain gray dresses with drop waists. Josephine used a soft-bristled brush to comb out tangles in her little sister’s hair. A white bow lay in wait.

  “You’re both such big girls to get yourselves dressed and ready for the day,” I said.

  “Jojo helps me,” Fiona said, then winced as a particularly stubborn tangle met the brush.

  “Sorry, pet,” Josephine said. “You must have been wild in your sleep last night.”

  Fiona grinned. “Miss Quinn, one time I fell out of the bed.”

  “She was lucky not to break something.” The knot out, Josephine tied the bow around Fiona’s curls.

  “Papa said I bounce,” Fiona said.

  Josephine popped from the window seat and smoothed her skirts. “We’re ready now.”

  “Would you like to meet our pigs?” Fiona asked.

  “You have pigs?” I lifted Fiona off the window seat and gave her a kiss on top of her head before setting her on her feet.

  “Baby ones.” Fiona’s voice wobbled. “They’ll get killed after they’re fat.”

  “Fiona likes bacon but doesn’t care to think where it comes from.” Josephine gave her sister an indulgent smile.

  “I understand completely,” I said.

  “They have curly tails,” Fiona said. “And pink noses that make funny sniffing noises.”

  Fiona kept hold of my hand as we went down the stairs to the main floor. Ironically, the scent of bacon greeted us the moment we stepped into the dining room. Lord Barnes and Theo were already seated at the table. The elder Barnes read from a newspaper and Theo from a book. They both looked up and said good morning. Jasper stood watch.