The remainder of Maria’s first day flew by smoothly. Besides a few braid pulling and spit ball incidents, and one scraped knee during tree tag at recess, all nineteen children were well-mannered and eager learners. It took Maria the entire day to determine where each child should be placed for reading and math as she challenged each one with reading passages and math problems until she settled upon a level to match their skills. Exhausted, she was glad when the hour of dismissal drew near, and they each had a cookie and sang a parting song together. She decided to give them the freedom of no homework for their first day, aware many of them still had fall chores awaiting them at home. Blissfully happy, but tired, she stood at the window and watched as they boisterously scattered in all directions, lunch pails slapping against their legs, poking and prodding each other as they raced away. She couldn’t help smiling. The day had been glorious, and the children seemed to have no trouble relating to her and her set of firm but fair classroom rules.
Minutes later, when she left the building, she found Tye Ashmore outside, sitting on the ground, his back against a large cedar at the corner of the lot. His hat was pulled over his eyes as if he was dozing. His horse, tied to a nearby sapling, pulled on grass not trampled by her students’ feet. Swamp was dozing right beside his master, his head on his thigh. He raised his head, ears alert, as soon as she approached.
****
“Looks like the little rascals have done in the schoolmarm on her first day,” Tye drawled and pushed his hat up to reveal his dark eyes. Errant strands of her thick dark hair had come undone from the ribbon at the back of her neck, and her fingers were covered in chalk dust. Her once crisp dress was wrinkled at the waist from leaning over student desks and was smudged with chalk as well. But her beaming smile was not lost on him either.
“Today was wonderful, simply superb, if exhausting. However, I fear many of the children have not progressed at the rate I had been expecting for their ages. The milliner’s daughter, Jodie Watson, could read only half of the primer, and she’s an exceptionally bright child.”
“You haven’t heard about our former teacher, Whiskey Will.” Tye smirked, pushing his rangy body up. “His real name was William Wate. He was said to have a heavy hand with discipline, but an even heavier one on the bottle he kept in the bottom drawer of his desk. It’s really quite amazing children learned anything useful last year. The school board had to dismiss him despite his professed fine education and sheepskins.”
“Well, you just explained the confusion I saw in the children’s eyes.” Maria shook her head, her eyes clouded with disappointment. “Lenny didn’t come to school, but he left me this picture with my sketchbook and pencil.” She held up the picture for Tye to see. “Would you take me to his cabin on the mountain after school on Friday?”
Tye shrugged noncommittally. “I don’t see what good it would do. The boy’s old man is one bullheaded badger. You’ll never talk him into allowing the child to attend school. And it’s a long way up the mountain, Maria.”
“Please, Tye.”
He looked into her cinnamon-colored, earnest eyes and knew it was useless to argue. This fine-looking school teacher had made up her mind, and nothing he would say was going to change it. He had to admire her quiet determination. From the picture alone, he could see the boy was bright and talented. This was a child who should be in school. He looked up at the sun and scratched his chin, making one last attempt. “You know, Miss O’Donnell, some things are deemed hopeless before they’re even attempted.”
“Mr. Ashmore,” she rejoined with an impish smile, “hope is what makes us live today as if tomorrow was yesterday.”
He sighed. She was going to hang on to the idea like a hungry dog with a ham bone. “Can you ride?”
“Yes. My father taught Abby and me how to ride when we were children.”
Tye nodded appreciatively. He had no desire to walk up the mountain, although he knew there were paths so narrow where they’d have to dismount and lead their horses. Beside him, Swamp whined a low, soft sound and looked at Maria. “Looks like my partner here wants to make friends with you.”
Maria held out her hand for the dog to sniff it, then patted him affectionately on his head, and scratched him behind his ears. The dog groaned in appreciation. “He looks like an Australian cattle dog.”
“Well, I’m convinced he has some blue heeler blood in him because he’s the best cattle dog I’ve ever seen. He’s also a top notch watch dog.”
“Why do you call him Swamp?” she asked, her forehead furrowed.
“Long story. I’ll tell you someday when we have lots of time to spare.” A soft smile lingered on his lips. Without warning, he bent and brushed his mouth gently against hers. She smelled like roses and sunshine and tasted like sugar cookies. When she didn’t protest, he kissed her more insistently and caressed the side of her neck with his hands.
After a moment, she stopped and pushed on his chest. She hung her head. He knew her heart was racing as fast as his own. “Tye, I’ve told you, this is not a good idea,” she said in a low voice. “My contract with the school board frowns on romantic relationships and entanglements.”
He took her face in both of his rough, callused hands and stared into her eyes. “We’re going to have to find a way to work around it, Maria, ’cause I’m not about to give up or go away. I’ll meet you on Friday, right after school. Be dressed and be ready to ride. We’ll need all the daylight we can get.” Releasing her, he whistled for Swamp, mounted, and rode toward town.
Four days later, he sat under the same cedar at the far corner of the school’s play yard, patiently waiting again for school to be dismissed. He was not surprised when Maria came flying out the door as if she was being chased by a swarm of bees. She wore a gray split riding skirt and brown leather vest over a simple white blouse. She had her teacher’s bag slung over her shoulder, and it bulged with what looked like books and materials. Tucked under her other arm was a large bundle of men’s clothing tied with twine.
She beamed as she approached him. “I met Betsy, the other day. What a precious sister you have! She stopped at the cottage and gave me all these second-hand clothes to give to Lenny.”
“You have no idea what we’ve had to endure while we were growing up with precious Betsy,” he replied with a poker straight face. “She knows how to pickpocket, can shoot better than most men, and has no qualms about voicing her opinion, whether it’s right or wrong or close to insane. Oh, and she’s wicked with a broom in her hands.”
Maria peered down at him with joy still bubbling up and washing over her face. “Sounds like Abigail. Both seem to be rather assertive in their approach to life.”
“That’s a diplomatic way of putting it.” Tye rose and took time to survey her from head to toe. No woman, he decided, should look that good in riding clothes and boots. No woman’s laughter should make him feel so helplessly smitten. No woman, especially one so beautiful, should have him lassoed so tightly it hurt to breathe. He had horses to break and chores to do, and yet, here he was once again, succumbing to the will of the new schoolmarm even though he knew the trip would be futile. His brother, Marcus, had laughed like a hyena when he told him where he was headed, then had said mountain climbing was, by far, a most novel, but unusual way to court a young lady.
Marcus was the jokester of the family and now a father of two small children, a girl and boy. He had married a Danish gal who had opened a bakery in town. When she wasn’t baking the best pastries in a hundred mile radius, she helped with his sister-in-law’s pottery business. More and more Scandinavians were flooding into the area, and Anna’s bakery was doing a brisk business, selling out every day before nightfall. In fact, he had specifically requested Anna to save him some bear claws and donuts and had tucked them away in his saddlebag as a treat for both Maria and himself, and for Lenny and River Roy.
He heard Maria speak, breaking his reverie.
“And I had the opportunity to visit your sister’s General Store and purchase a few things.”
“So I’ve been told. Oh, that reminds me.” From around his saddle horn, he removed a charcoal gray Stetson. “She forgot to add this to your outfit.” He set the hat on her head, making sure the strings fell forward under her chin. His eyes never left hers while he worked. When he went to adjust the cord under her chin, he felt her soft hands cover his and send a jolt clear down to his toes. “Don’t, Tye. I can do it. I’m not helpless.”
“Sorry, I never thought you were,” he said in a smooth undertone and held his hands up in defeat. He moved away to tie the bundle of clothes to his saddle and her book bag to her mount, a sleek, little brown cow pony. He could feel the tension radiate into the air around them and was certain she felt it, too.
She walked to the front side of her mount and stroked the mare’s neck affectionately, then moved to her head and blew a few soft puffs into her nostrils. “Hey, gal. How are you doing today?” The horse tossed her head, snorted an impatient response, and sidestepped. Laughing softly, Maria said to Tye, “I have to look for saddle horses for Abigail and me. Aunt Emma only has carriage horses in the barn, although Lang Redford said two others are saddle broke. I know Uncle Henry used to ride.”
Tye glanced over his shoulder at her and was glad she changed the subject to relieve the tension. “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen Emma ride a horse. I don’t know if she’s ever handled a buggy by herself, now that you mention it.” When he was finished, he gave the cow pony a few reassuring pats as well. A flicker of amusement lighted up his face. “I bought this little mare from Flint who picked her up awhile back for his wife, Julia, to ride, not knowing she had her eyes set on a quarter horse down in Colorado Springs. You’ll like this sure-footed filly. She responds well to the slightest commands. However, if you dismount, keep hold of the reins; I’m not certain she is trained to be ground tied or how loyal she might be. I’ve only had her for a few weeks.”
Maria’s gaze circled the yard. “Where’s Swamp?”
“Working back at the ranch. My men are moving some cattle closer to water.” He saw disappointment in her eyes and cursed beneath his breath. The darn dog had a better chance of winning her affections and courting her than he did. “You’ve taken a shine to him, I see.”
“Don’t be jealous, Tydall.” She laughed gently, taking the reins from him. They mounted and set off toward the west at a brisk pace with a warm breeze fanning their faces. The ride up the mountain was a leisurely one. Around them, Maria paid strict attention to keeping her mount in line behind Tye’s whenever the path grew too narrow for two horses. Above them, the birds chattered in the trees and the overcast, colorless sky was a welcome relief from the earlier heat of the day.
Minutes later, when they were riding side by side once again, Maria asked, “What do you know about Aunt Emma? Besides she doesn’t ride a horse.”
Tye Ashmore shrugged. “I know Emma came from Georgia and married a miller, who was not the best businessman around. When he died from drowning, he left Emma with a slew of debts. She was a beautiful woman, and it didn’t take long for Emma to pursue your uncle. He fell in love, paid off her debts, and married her. People around town always said she was a strange one, not especially friendly, but then, you must remember gossip in a small town has a way of spreading like wildfire in dry grass. Emma never socialized much with the other womenfolk. Maybe she felt uncomfortable mingling with those who had less. She always dressed in expensive, beautiful clothes and I’m told, even by my sister, she ran up enormous bills about town which your uncle paid. Betsy once remarked no one would ever want to get on the wrong side of Emma McNeil.”
At one point when the path became so narrow, they were forced to slip off their horses and lead them. Behind him, Tye heard Maria ask, “Why doesn’t Lenny’s dad believe in educating his son?”
Tye motioned for her to catch up to him as the path widened enough to walk side by side. “Oh, I don’t rightly know. I suppose he does, but he’s just distrustful of people. He’s led a hard life, Maria.”
“I know. I heard he lost his son in the war.”
“Yes, Walt.” He frowned. “The old man’s life has been one heartache after another. He acquired the rights to a rich coal vein and requested access from the adjacent land where it was safer to mine. Denied, he built an entrance from his property, tunneling beneath a soft area supported with only props and wooden beams. One night six years ago, his wife brought him dinner, going deep into the mine to find him. The tunnel collapsed, and she was killed. River Roy closed up the mine shaft and buried her where she fell. The cave-in was her grave.”
She took a quick, sharp breath. “Oh, how horrible.”
“And if it was tough having to see his son abandon him and march off to war, can you imagine his pain when he learned the son was killed? Ironically, Walt and Brett became good friends, drawn together being from the same area of the country. It was Walt who Brett left his army papers with before he went to spy on Southern lines. After he was killed, no one was able to locate Brett’s papers. They just disappeared.”
“Did Brett ever question River Roy about them?”
“Of course, but he swears he only received his son’s corpse in a pine coffin.”
“Could he have a reason to lie?”
“None I know of. The man may be bitter, but he isn’t known to be vindictive.”
“How will Brett ever clear his name?” They stopped beneath a huge pine tree just before the path widened to catch their breath. Maria removed her hat to let the breeze cool her head, then reset it, letting it fall onto her back by its strings.
“Right now, Brett is collecting testimony as to his allegiance to the North. I’ve even written a letter for him. But it doesn’t look good because he was in civilian clothes and found far from the Northern prisoners in the splendid company of Southern officers.”
Maria’s face tightened. There was sarcasm in her voice when she spoke, “Why would any man whose mission was to spy and gather information on the enemy hang around with his fellow Northern soldiers being held prisoner? The Southern officers would have more information about troop movement.”