Real Cowboys. Roz Denny Fox

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СКАЧАТЬ in the file was its brevity. All eleven students lived on rural routes. Clover Trueblood was no exception. A space for her mother’s given and maiden names was blank. Nothing indicated whether Mrs. Trueblood lived elsewhere or was deceased. A notation was made that Clover had passed grade one, but Mr. Sikes’s progress note simply stated she hadn’t been tested in grade two.

      Had she been absent the day of state-mandated tests? If so, why had no one administered a makeup? Kate frowned and tucked the artwork in the folder, then pulled a pad from her book bag to jot down contact phone numbers from Clover’s record. Vida Smith, a housekeeper, was listed for Monday, Tuesday and Thursday. Her father’s radio-phone number said, message only, will return calls. Three other numbers without names were noted for emergency purposes.

      Sighing, Kate wrote Clover’s father a note requesting a meeting at his earliest convenience. She put it in an envelope, sealed it and scrawled his name on the outside, then set it aside to send home with Clover.

      Like most first days at school, this one passed quickly. As Kate was the only teacher, all grades broke for lunch and recess together. She was able to observe which kids paired up and who was on the outs. The older boys teamed up for three-on-a-side basketball.

      From the sidelines, Kate suggested plays. She kept an eye on Jeff Goetz and Adam Lightfoot, who tossed a baseball in another part of the playground. She’d thought Danny would join them, but he moved off. Clover climbed on the monkey bars and chatted to Danny, who didn’t seem to mind.

      At the end of the day, Kate stuck her note to Clover’s father into the girl’s pack. “This is important. Please give it to your dad as soon as you get home. Tell him I’ll be here tomorrow a half hour before school starts, or I’ll stay an hour after class.”

      “Yes, ma’am.” Clover skirted Kate’s wheelchair and bolted for the door.

      Kate levered out of her chair to erase the math problems she’d had Meg Wheeler and Mike Delgado write on the board.

      She and Danny were alone again.

      “Did Clover do something wrong, Mom?”

      “Wrong? Oh, you mean the note I sent her father? It’s nothing. Her record is incomplete so I need information from her dad. By the way, Danny, I saw you two talking at recess and lunch, after you left Jeff and Adam.”

      “I asked them about a rodeo. Jeff doesn’t have horses, but Clover does. Her dad owns a bunch, a cavvy, she called them. She can ride any horse she wants. And her dad braids ropes. Clover said her dad used to teach a roping clinic. She knows all about slack handling, dallying, del viento, hoolihan, turnover and a bunch of other roping tricks.”

      Kate set the eraser in its tray. “He used to teach roping?”

      “Yeah. Well, maybe he still does.” Taking the eraser, Danny dusted it off in the waste basket. “Clover said he had to stop ’cause he spends so much time running back and forth to court. To Boise. When he’s gone she gets to ride in a real chuck wagon. Isn’t that the coolest thing, Mom?”

      “Hmm.” Kate digested the news about Clover’s father spending a lot of time in court. A custody hassle might explain the girl’s distraction and account for the blanks on her permanent record.

      A teacher ought to know if there was a court restraining order out against one parent or the other. Mentally, Kate added that to her list of things to discuss with Clover’s father.

      That evening, Marge Goetz phoned. “Kate, may I call you that? During supper Jeff told his dad and me how rude Terry was today. He knows better. He will apologize tomorrow. And he’ll do without TV for a few days.”

      “I’d planned to speak privately with Terry. He and the others wouldn’t have been so surprised if I’d mentioned my use of a wheelchair in my cover letter.”

      “There’s no reason you should have. Except we would’ve provided better access to your cabin and the school. My husband, Ray, worries that you’ll have trouble when it snows.”

      “Getting around is my problem to solve, Marge, and I’ll manage. When should I expect the first snow?”

      “Could be another month. Two if we’re lucky. It won’t hurt the older boys to shovel a path from where you park into the school. I’ll have Ray or one of the other board members buy snow shovels for the school and your cabin.” After asking Kate if she needed anything else, the board president said goodbye.

      Kate wished she’d asked if Marge knew a way to reach Clover Trueblood’s father. But maybe he’d show up in the morning.

      The next day, Kate rousted Danny from bed early so she’d be at school in the event Trueblood chose to come for a morning meeting, but he didn’t show. Clover got off the bus. Entering the room alone, she shyly crossed to Kate’s desk, where she set a peanut-butter jar filled with fragrant wildflowers.

      The gesture and the child’s almost palpable anxiety touched Kate. “Why, thank you, Clover. These are beautiful. Do they grow wild near your house?”

      The girl bobbed her head. Kate’s obvious pleasure triggered a sweet responsive smile before Clover spun and skipped to her desk.

      Kate hated to bring up the letter she’d sent home, but she needed to know. “Clover, did you give your dad my note?”

      “Yes, ma’am.” She sat, but didn’t look at Kate.

      “What did he say after he read it?”

      Fine black hair hid Clover’s face. “Nothing.”

      “Is he picking you up from school today?”

      “Uh-uh. I’m riding the bus and Miss Vida’s staying late to fix my supper ’cause Ben’s got a meeting in town.”

      Kate closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Do you always call your father Ben?”

      Clover shrugged, clearly puzzled. “That’s his name.”

      “All right. Not to worry. I’ll write him another note. Or, better, I’ll phone and leave a message.”

      The morning reading assignment netted Kate two more drawings from Clover—a dark horse with an oddly trimmed mane and a dog that looked like Goldie. Kate had Clover read out loud. She read about every fifth word, seeming easily distracted.

      While the students were eating lunch at tables out back, Kate took a minute to call Ben Trueblood and was connected to an answering machine. “I understand if you’re busy,” she said, rushing to beat the time-out tone. “Perhaps I didn’t convey the urgency of my request to speak with you in my first note. We need to conference ASAP about your daughter.” The tone bleeped, so Kate clicked off, annoyed that she hadn’t repeated her offer to come in early or stay late.

      THURSDAY AT SCHOOL was a repeat of Wednesday.

      Frustrated, Kate again attempted to impress on Clover that she really needed to meet with her dad. “This is my cell-phone number,” she said, making sure Clover saw her stuff the note in a zip pocket of the girl’s red backpack. “Please tell him he can call me any evening. I’m up late.”

      Blinking a couple of times, Clover dashed off to meet the van, leaving Kate with her day’s work—more art. Today СКАЧАТЬ