Mary Connealy (44 page)

Adam shoved the door open, glad to be out of the wind. He wouldn’t be out of it for long.

Snow blew in with him. Clay looked up from his rocking chair where he sat grinning at Sally on his lap. Sophie turned from where she laid plates on the table, her stomach so huge Adam was surprised she didn’t tip over forward every time she tried to move.

Mandy stirred something that smelled wonderful in the pot hanging over the fire. Beth sat close by the fire, reading aloud to the whole family.

It was a perfect picture. One Adam had long wished for himself. He was nearing forty now, and a wife and family had never happened for him. But he’d helped Sophie have this idyllic life, and he was content.

He was also going to wreck things. “The teacher’s missing.”

They all turned to him and became alert. His urgency must have shown loud and clear.

“I was in town when the cry went up. Someone saw her window broken and went up to check. She’s gone. Her door stood open, but from snags of fabric on the broken glass and tracks in the alley under the window, it looks like she fell or jumped out her window. They’ve got search parties out in every direction. I told them I’d fetch the hands.”

Clay set Sally on her feet and rushed for his hat. “Don’t hold dinner.” He left on Adam’s heels.

Adam noticed Sophie didn’t try to come. She’d settled into leaving men’s work to Clay and the hands…mostly. Being pregnant had slowed her down a mite, too.

Adam swung up on his horse. “It could have been hours ago. No one’s seen her since she got fired.”

Clay, striding to the barn to grab up his horse, stopped short and turned. “She got fired? What happened?”

“Daniel Reeves and his boys is what happened. Miss Calhoun and Daniel had another one of their squabbles and got the school board involved. They kicked up so much fuss the school board washed their hands of both of them. Fired her and kicked his boys out of school.”

Clay got moving again. “Where’d she go? The train didn’t come through tonight. Did she take her horse?”

Adam rode alongside him. “She doesn’t have a horse.”

Clay glanced back. “She used to.”

“She came into the area on a horse, but the blacksmith said she’d sold it to him months ago. He got the idea she needed the money.”

“You’re sure she’s not visiting one of the students?”

“We’ve searched every building in town, even the barns. Guess she was pretty upset after she got fired. Went to her room crying. When word got out she’d been fired and was missing, folks felt bad about it, so they’ve all pitched in to hunt, near tore the town apart. She’s not there.” Adam pulled his collar up to his ears against the cold. “No one’s ever seen her with anything but her one coat and one pair of shoes, and she left them behind.”

Clay wheeled and stared at Adam. “She went out her window and fell two stories then disappeared without shoes or a coat? In this weather? What’s going on?”

Adam shook his head. “I’ve got no answers for you, Clay. I told ’em in town we’d cover the land between Sawyer Canyon and the plateau. She can’t have gotten farther than that.”

Clay jabbed a finger at the bunkhouse. “Go rouse the men. If she’s not on a train, not on a horse, and not in town, she’s in trouble.”

“Bad trouble.” Adam kicked his horse toward the bunkhouse. Luther and Buff were already outside in their buffalo-skin coats. The other men emerged. They couldn’t know what had happened, but they’d lived long enough in a harsh land to sense danger and be ready.

“A ma.” John shouted from the cave door. “We’ve been thinking it’s a good idea ’n’ all.”

“You have?” Daniel remembered them saying such a thing, but he’d paid no attention. He wasn’t taking a chance on another woman dying on him.

“’Cept’n I don’t know where she’s gonna sleep,” Luke added. “We could put the table outside at night I reckon.”

Daniel looked where his son was staring. Ike was beside Abe, and Daniel couldn’t see anything. Mark, Luke, and John clambered up into the wagon box and surrounded the supplies. They were all staring at something Daniel couldn’t see.

“Not Miss Calhoun,” Mark howled. “Take her back and get someone else, Pa. She’s a grouch.”

Daniel swung around on the seat and dropped into the back end of his wagon. With all six Reeves men in it, there was no room for supplies, let alone…

“A woman.” Daniel couldn’t believe his eyes. Then the shock passed and he realized she was asleep. Or dead. He bent down and swooped her into his arms. She weighed barely more than one of the triplets.

She didn’t move, didn’t even react when he touched her. “Something’s wrong, boys.” Her skin was white, and she was as cold as ice in his arms. He couldn’t tell if she was breathing. “She’s freezing. Let’s get her inside.”

“We don’t want Miss Calhoun for a ma.” John stomped until he shook the wagon. Daniel jumped to the ground with the little wisp of a woman in his arms and headed for the house. He saw the door standing wide open. Any heat in the little cave was long gone.

“Take her back, Pa!” Luke yelled from where he was kneeling on top of the supplies in the wagon. “Get a better ma ’n her.”

Daniel strode toward the cave, trying to sort out all he needed to do to help her. “I don’t have time to explain any of this to you boys.” No time—and no explanation if he had all the time in the world.

“Miss Calhoun may be dying. We’re going to need lots of firewood to warm her up. All of you boys scatter and get some rounded up.” Daniel glanced behind him at his boys, all wearing “stubborn” like it was a winter coat. He roared, “And I mean now!”

Daniel went into the house and, with Miss Calhoun held easily in one arm, closed the heavy, dragging door he’d fashioned into the mouth of this little cave. He hurried over to the stove and knelt beside it. After a moment’s hesitation, he lowered her to the chilly floor.

“This won’t do,” he said to himself. “She can’t get warm on the cold ground.” He was suddenly irritated with himself for not getting a cabin built last summer. The boys were never inside, summer or winter, and the cave was an adventure for all of them. And heaven knew it was a cheap way to live, no room for furniture or bric-a-brac and no woman to nag him for such foolishness. Still, a warm, tight house right now might mean the difference between life and death for Miss Calhoun.

He went to the bedding wadded in a heap in the corner. The furs all but carpeted the floor when they rolled them out at night. He caught up all the blankets, went back to her side, and, gently lifting her, awkwardly spread the blankets on the floor for her to lie on.

The door flew open while he knelt there, holding Miss Calhoun in his arms.

Abe came in with an armload of wood.

“Abe, close that door. We’ll never get ahead of the cold with it standing open.”

Before Abe could obey—on the off chance he was going to—Ike came in loaded down with sticks. The other boys were right on his heels.

“We need to get this cave warmed up. Gather more wood, enough to keep the fire blazing hot all night. Then get back in here with it fast and keep that door closed.” Daniel, a little surprised that they minded him, watched them dash out, shutting the door behind them.

Daniel settled the motionless woman on the blankets. He laid his hand on her chest and, with a sigh of relief, felt a heartbeat.

Daniel stuffed the stove full of wood and heard the reassuring crackle as the new kindling caught from the old. He picked up the teacher’s limp white hand and noticed how fine-boned it was. She was so thin it was like holding bone draped with skin. He meant to rub some feeling back into her, but she seemed so fragile, he was afraid he’d hurt her. Instead of rubbing, he just held her hand between both of his, trying to share some of his warmth.

Lying here, silent and defenseless, Grace Calhoun, who had always seemed like an old bat who lived for the soul purpose of terrorizing children, now looked very young. Why, she was little more than a child herself. He hadn’t thought of it for a while, but he remembered now that his first impression was that she was a pretty little thing. Then she’d opened her mouth.

Daniel thought of how painfully proper she had been when they’d met. More than proper, she was snooty as all get-out and so prissy he’d decided she lived to keep her grammar perfect and her hands clean.

He’d let her enthusiasm for schooling sway him into sending the boys. Then the trouble began. Soon enough he’d pegged her for an old maid, made of pure gristle and spite. Although, truth to tell, he’d never given her much thought beyond avoiding her at all costs.

Careful to be gentle, he rubbed her hand between his to get some circulation into her fingers and saw blood. With a gasp he turned her hand over. Her hand was scraped raw.

“What happened to you?”

For the first time he really looked at her for injuries. Her other hand had bled, too, although the bleeding had stopped. He noticed the dark blue dress she was wearing. It was flannel and thin as paper. It was torn at her knees, and he could see that she had scraped herself there, too.

Dear God, what has this woman been through tonight? Don’t let her die on me, Father
.

The flannel had dried to her knee in one spot. Carefully, he pulled the fabric out of the wound. She’d been in his wagon since Mosqueros. There was no other possible time she could have slipped in. He’d just loaded the wagon and thrown the tarp over the supplies, then gone back inside the general store to pay for his order. He’d only been inside a couple of minutes. She must have climbed in then.

Daniel looked at her still features. Her lips were tinged with blue, her skin as fragile as a china plate Margaret had treasured right up until the day Ike had smashed it into a thousand pieces. He remembered how his wife had cried over that stupid plate. Of course, women cried over almost everything.

Grace’s naturally fair skin seemed almost translucent from the cold. He spoke to her, even though she was beyond hearing him. “I’ve figured out
when
you got in my wagon, Miss Calhoun. That only leaves
why
.”

He realized that as soon as she was awake and able to move, he’d have to drive all the way back into town. Honestly, this woman seemed as though she’d been born for the sole purpose of pestering him.

The boys charged back in. Luke was last, and he carefully shut the door. Juggling his armload of sticks in his chubby, five-year-old arms proved to be a bit too much. He dropped half his load.

“Clumsy.” Mark shoved Luke. “Be quiet. The teacher’s here.” Daniel noticed Mark said it at the top of his lungs.

“She’s not the teacher.” Luke shoved back. Mark stumbled into Ike, who dropped his bundle of wood with a clatter.

Luke clapped Daniel on the back. “Sally McClellen told me today on the ride home that Pa got her fired right after school.”

“Good for you, Pa.” Abe stuffed more wood into the potbellied stove. “They’re gonna hafta hunt up a new teacher. A nice one this time, I hope.”

“Sally said we got kicked out of school, too,” Luke added.

Pandemonium broke out. The boys shrieked with joy until Daniel half expected the stone roof over their heads to raise from all the ruckus.

The jubilation wore itself out while Daniel worked on getting circulation back into Miss Calhoun’s fragile hand.

Out of the corner of his eye, Daniel noticed Ike collide with Mark and then blame Mark for the crash.

“Mark, you little—” The two of them stumbled into the table and shoved it until it hit Daniel in the back. The table, the stove, two benches, and the boys, and the house was full. There was no room for a wrestling match.

“You guys, cut it out.” Daniel pushed the corner of the table out of his shoulder blades. He saw that the stack of wood behind his back had grown most of the way to his chest.

By golly, those boys can work!

“That’s enough wood for now. You guys go get the rest of the supplies. Stow everything in the barn. Ike, you unhitch the team and rub ’em down. Abe, grain them for the night, hang up the harness, then all of you get back in here before you freeze. It’s already past your bedtime.”

Abe scowled. “Dad, we don’t want to do all that.”

Daniel ignored his son’s complaining. He’d heard it all before. “And make sure you close the barn gate tight. If those horses get out again, you’re all going to start sleeping in the barn and I’ll bring the horses in here to bunk down.”