Real Cowboys. Roz Denny Fox

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      If she didn’t see or hear from Ben Trueblood soon, Kate intended to load Danny in her pickup and follow Bill Hyder to Clover’s home. She’d wait for him there.

      Kate spent a large part of the day observing Clover. She seemed a happy child, always humming to herself as she flitted about. And flit she did. Simple things caught her attention. Clouds. A fly. Colorful rocks.

      The other kids didn’t exactly avoid her, but neither did they include her in play. And for some reason she chose to shadow Danny. Curiously, he let her, probably because she knew a lot about horses—Danny’s greatest love next to calf roping.

      As she watched the kids at lunch, it struck Kate that if not for her pretty hair and girlish features, Clover could pass for one of the boys in her slant-heel boots, faded blue jeans and Western shirt.

      Clover wasn’t disruptive in class. She listened attentively when anyone, especially Kate, talked. However, small things had her leaving her seat. A ladybug marching across a neighbor’s desk. Oak leaves that blew in and skittered across the floor when Meg Wheeler came in late. And of all things, a honeybee that Clover guided out the classroom window because she said its family was waiting outside.

      Clover’s verbal skills were fine for her age and she gave detailed answers to the questions Kate asked. But she stubbornly chose not to do written assignments and she only read a handful of words on a page. Kate didn’t get it. The kid was an enigma. And so was the elusive dad, whom Danny pronounced “real cool.” According to Danny, buckaroos, as Clover called her dad and his crew, were the greatest because they lived in tepees on the range. They did nothing but ride horses, herd and brand cattle.

      Kate didn’t share her son’s admiration for the man. Clover was a beautiful child who had somehow fallen through a huge crack in the education system and it was Kate’s job to see that her student got the help she needed.

      Frustrated, Kate left a terse message saying that if she didn’t see him Friday, she was going to call the district superintendent’s office about his child. “I understand what it is to be a working, single parent. I’ll be at school until six o’clock.”

      Danny overheard the last part of her call. “Are we staying late again tonight? If we stay till six that means I’ve gotta feed and exercise Flame in the dark.”

      “Not tonight, Danny. I’m ready to go home now. Tomorrow, bring a book along to read. If Clover’s dad spends long hours out on the range, it’s up to me to remain flexible so that he and I can meet.”

      “You said Clover wasn’t in trouble. So why do you need a meeting?”

      “Danny, I can’t discuss another student with you, and I’m sorry you have to stay with me. You know, if Clover’s dad makes this meeting, you’ll have to sit in the truck until he and I finish talking. Our meeting is confidential.”

      “Br-oth-er! You think I can’t keep a secret? I was with Mimi when she bought Pawpaw that fringed leather jacket for Christmas, and I didn’t tell.”

      “This is different, honey. All students and their families have a legal right to privacy.”

      “Not me. You’re my teacher and my mom. You know everything there is to know about me.”

      Kate couldn’t resist teasing as she hugged him. “But you’re perfect, Danny.”

      He wiggled out of her arms and delivered an eye roll like only ten-year-old boys could. However, he helped her collect her papers without being asked before they locked up.

      FRIDAY THE KIDS WERE ANXIOUS to be off for the weekend. “Are you going to assign homework?” asked tall, lanky Ron Quimby.

      “I prefer not to assign weekend homework. Tests I give will be on work you should be covering during class.” Kate couldn’t help glancing at Clover. She hadn’t completed any class assignments this entire week. Well, that wasn’t true. She’d done her math.

      Last night, Marge Goetz had dropped by with a welcome casserole and Kate had been dying to ask the older woman about Clover’s father but didn’t feel she’d been at her job long enough to probe for such information. After Marge had left, Kate had looked up dyslexia in a teaching textbook. Kate wondered if that was Clover’s problem. But the text said a dyslexic child would have difficulty with reading, spelling and numbers, so that didn’t describe Clover.

      Class ended in a stampede out to catch the bus.

      “Danny, I’m going to grade papers,” Kate told her son. “Will you go see if anyone left sports equipment out on the playground?”

      “Okay. Why do we hafta stay late every night? I want to ride Flame. Why doesn’t Clover’s dad show up?”

      “I’ve no idea.”

      Kate spent a half hour going over the day’s work. From the sporadic thump on the back wall, she knew Danny had gotten sidetracked shooting baskets.

      At the sound of footsteps, Kate’s head shot up. In walked the most arresting man she’d seen in Lord only knew when. He was lean, not too muscular and oozed masculinity. He wore narrow-legged jeans tucked in tall snakeskin boots that jingled faintly and musically as he entered the classroom. Despite herself, Kate felt a tug in her belly as she watched the fascinating, hip-rolling gait of a born cowboy.

      The faded red neckerchief he wore had seen better days and obviously wasn’t for show. Nor was the sweat-stained cotton shirt with stray strands of dry grass sticking out of one pocket and the shirtsleeves rolled up over deeply tanned forearms.

      She hadn’t heard a truck. Had he dropped from the sky?

      As he turned to glance out the window, Kate saw that his raven-black hair was tied at the nape with a leather thong. His clean-shaven jaw gave an appearance of strength.

      No matter how irritated Kate was with herself over looking her fill, she was more chagrined to see that he studied her with equal interest—and equal reluctance.

      “Mr. Trueblood, I presume? I’m Kate Steele, your daughter’s new teacher.” Kate tried to imagine what he was thinking. How did he feel about knocking off work early to come in for a meeting he probably considered frivolous? Clover’s dad struck her as a hard-nosed, no-frills kinda guy.

      “I appreciate you making time to come talk about Clover,” Kate said. “I’ll try to be as brief as possible, but meanwhile, please be seated.” She indicated a folding chair she’d brought from home for this very occasion.

      He hadn’t spoken since walking in and didn’t now. He merely dragged the chair out a foot or so farther from her desk and sat heavily, before hanging the flat-crowned hat he’d removed at the door over one knee.

      At last he cleared his throat. “Clover’s a little bit of a thing, Ms. Steele. If she’s caused trouble for you in class, I’d have thought as a qualified teacher you’d know ways to deal with about any problem an eight-year-old girl could dish up.”

      CHAPTER THREE

      “I’M SORRY IF I DIDN’T MAKE myself clear in my note,” Kate said, trying not to stammer. What was wrong with him that he couldn’t see her only objective in asking to meet him was to help his daughter? “Clover is a very sweet child, Mr. Trueblood.” Kate leaned СКАЧАТЬ