The Rancher Inherits A Family. Cheryl St.John

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СКАЧАТЬ a wolf.”

      The woman was obviously reluctant about the prospect of these lessons, but Seth felt as accountable for her as he did the boys. She’d be staying under his roof, on his land, and he had to look out for her.

      “I’m just going to say this straight,” he continued. “Cowboy Creek is a peaceable town, with lawmen and regulations, but it’s a cow town and it’s brimming with men. Lots of men, young and old, nearly all of them looking for a woman. The school is located near prestigious homes and close to businesses, so it’s not secluded whatsoever, but sometimes things happen. Ruffians have been known to ride into town. You’re there to teach the children, and they’re in your care each day. Always be aware of your surroundings. Keep a gun in a safe place, just in case it’s needed.”

      “Does the current teacher have a gun?”

      “I can’t tell you for sure, but if she was my wife, I’d be sure she had one.”

      Her focus skittered away and her face seemed a trifle paler than it had moments ago. She swallowed and rubbed her palms on her skirt. She was a city girl, raised in a comfortable home, educated and perhaps protected. He felt bad about delivering hard facts, but someone had to. She needed to be aware.

      “Miss Brewster...” he began.

      Her gaze flitted to his again.

      He took a match and striker from the small stand beside his cot and held them out to her. “Will you light a couple of the lanterns, please?”

      She did as he asked, her skirt pooling on the porch floor as she kneeled. Dust flamed inside the glass chimney and burned off quickly.

      “You know more about me than I know about you, partly thanks to my mother. No one ever has to wonder what she’s thinking.” He shrugged. “But I’m curious. What was your life like in Ohio during the war?”

      “Probably very different than the stories I’ve heard about lower states,” she answered. “The men, young and old—except the very young boys—were off fighting. My father was a banker. His family had come to Ohio from New York when he was a boy. He took a job working for the governor just as the war started, and he spent a lot of time in Washington. Daisy married about that time. Her husband was wounded at Arkansas Post and later recovered and went back to his regiment. She wrote him daily, but rarely had a letter in return. He returned for a day or two now and then between assignments. My mother became sickly, so my sister and I cared for her with domestic help.”

      She adjusted the wicks on both lamps, stood and took a seat again. “We followed the news and corresponded with neighbors and schoolmates who were off fighting. When news came of men killed, the war seemed so far away. Daisy and I attended church and oyster suppers and gatherings and received callers. We made cakes for special occasions. We had ladies over and sewed quilts for sons and husbands, rolled bandages for the field hospitals, and all the while we prayed for the fighting to end.”

      The sky had darkened, and now the golden light from the lanterns glowed on her delicate features. “I’m sure my telling seems idyllic to someone like you, who was in the thick of things, getting shot and all.”

      “Thinking of scenes like that kept a lot of us going,” he answered. “Knowing there was gentility to return to. Families, church suppers and cakes. Quilts.”

      His deep tone and heartfelt words betrayed his emotions, so he cleared his throat. “Did you write to someone special?”

      “I was merely fourteen when the struggle over slavery began. My father insisted Daisy and I continue our studies. I hadn’t time to grow into thinking about boys before they were all gone.”

      “But you’d become a teacher.”

      “Yes. And I got my father’s affinity for numbers. I’d make someone a good accountant in a pinch, but I prefer working with children. I’ll always find employment.”

      She was obviously smart and ambitious, and took pride in being able to support herself. “That’s admirable.”

      “Thank you.”

      The breeze picked up her citrusy scent and carried it in his direction.

      “What’s that scent you wear?”

      She looked at him with surprise. “Orange-flower and almond-oil toilet water. My father always gave it to me at Christmas.”

      “It suits you.”

      Marigold had lived a life very different from his, from that of his family. It had taken courage and a desire for change to come this far alone. Quite a few brides had arrived in Cowboy Creek, and he’d heard some of their stories, but he’d never stopped to consider what the journey had meant for them. Until now.

      “I don’t want you to be afraid living here. I only want to make sure you’re able to protect yourself and the children in your care.”

      “Truly, I never considered I might have to protect them.”

      “You will likely never have to. But you’ll be prepared regardless.”

      She nodded. “Yes. Thank you.”

      “Thank you. For looking after the boys.”

      “It’s my pleasure.”

      “You’re likely exhausted.”

      “I am.”

      “Good night then. Sleep well.”

      “And you.” On a delicate current of orange and almond, she departed.

      Dozens of cowboys and business owners were going to appreciate Miss Brewster’s delicate beauty and intelligence. The last teacher hadn’t lasted six months before she was married. He suspected this schoolmarm would be temporary as well. Even Russ had shown covert interest when he’d thought no one was looking. And why not? Marigold Brewster was the prettiest thing Seth had ever seen.

      * * *

      Little John cried the next morning when Marigold and the boys prepared to leave with Dewey. She kneeled and gave him a gentle hug. “You’re going to be just fine with Mrs. Halloway. She loves little boys. I’ll bet she’ll even read you a story.”

      Evelyn rubbed his back and smoothed his hair. “I have just the book, too.”

      Marigold had assured him he could come to school with them occasionally after her adjustment period had ended, but he didn’t take kindly to his brothers going without him. She cupped his chin and wiped his tears, then joined Dewey on the wagon seat and didn’t look back. Evelyn was the best person to care for Little John while his brothers were in school. She had been happy at the thought of having him with her during the day. It had, in fact, been her idea.

      Dewey pointed out hawks and ground squirrels to Tate and Harper, and then answered a dozen questions on the drive to town. As they made their way to Lincoln Boulevard, the streets were already brimming with wagons; shopkeepers swept their stoops and opened their shutters. Dewey rolled the wagon right up along the curb before the single-story wood-frame building with a small vented bell tower, and helped Marigold to the ground. The boys grabbed their tin dinner pails and jumped down. As she’d noticed on their way past yesterday, СКАЧАТЬ