Real Cowboys

Darkness had covered the purple hills by the time he bounced his heavy-duty Ford up the rocky slope to his remodeled line shack. A big Chevy sat outside the cabin, which was awash in light. Well, he had Marge’s answer. The teacher had arrived.

He saw they’d turned out a horse. Dang, the corral needed shoring up. Ben mentally added a note to ask Chad up to repair it. He would’ve driven on out again if the front door to the cabin hadn’t opened. A boy and a dog ran out and down the porch steps.

Letting the Ford idle, Ben stepped out on his running board. “Hi, there,” he called over the strident barking of a lunging dog. “I’m Ben Trueblood. Marge Goetz asked me to verify that the new teacher got moved in. You’d be her son, I imagine.”

The gangly kid gripped the dog’s collar, but Ben wondered for how long. “Glad to see you’ve got protection. Tell your mom the van arrives at school around 9:00 a.m.”

Before he could halt her, Clover crawled over the seat and shot out his door to plop on her knees in front of the dog, who quit barking and licked her face even as Ben’s heart jacked up into his throat.

He glimpsed a second silhouette at the door. The teacher? If so, she wasn’t much taller than her boy. What had made him think she’d be burly? Probably Ray’s talk about feisty Texas women who handled guns.

“Marge would’ve welcomed you,” he called, “but her car’s on the blink. I own this place.” He circled a hand. “Any problems, tell Clover at school. That’s her.” He stabbed a finger. “Princess, let’s go. We have to eat yet and get you a bath. Tomorrow’s a school day.”

Clover kissed the dog’s nose, got up, waved to the boy she’d been chattering to and skipped back to the pickup. Ben had no more than lifted her in when the boy lost his hold on the retriever. In the semidarkness Ben saw a yellow streak zoom toward him. To make matters worse, the boy flailed his arms and chased his pet. The animal may have cottoned to Clover, but no one would mistake his bared teeth as a sign of affection for Ben, who felt those teeth sink into the soft leather of his left boot. Shaking his foot, Ben ultimately managed to close his door.

Triumphant, the dog gave a last growl and trotted back to his master.

KATE HAD CAUGHT ONLY SNATCHES of what their visitor said before Goldie went berserk. She’d levered herself out of her wheelchair and braced on the door casing as Dr. Pearsall said she could do now and then. She’d witnessed the unfolding scene and was glad the tall, lanky stranger managed to escape without being bitten. All she needed was to be told by her landlord to get rid of Danny’s dog. She’d caught that the man’s name was Trueblood and that the girl talking to Danny was his daughter. Oh, and Marge Goetz had car trouble.

After Goldie trotted meekly back to Danny, Kate watched the truck’s taillights fade. She found it odd the man hadn’t come to the door. Although, on second thought, she was glad. In the soft light shining from inside his pickup, she saw he wore the garb of a conventional cowboy, not a farmer. This cabin could be part of a ranch, she mused, sinking back into her wheelchair.

The last thing she wanted was for Danny to get friendly with a cowboy.

“Good watchdog,” she murmured to Goldie as the retriever bounded into the house.

CHAPTER TWO

KATE DID NEED HER SECOND RAMP at school to get her to the front door, which she unlocked with an old-style brass key Marge had included in the box of student folders that had been left on her kitchen counter.

The folders were a disappointment. No grades had been posted from the previous year and family information was sketchy. And there were eleven folders instead of fourteen. The number of students had dwindled even before Kate started. Schools closed when enrollment dipped too low.

That concern and the general anxiety that went with a new job had seen her sewing curtains for the cabin long after Danny and Goldie had gone to sleep. She would’ve hung the curtains, but she needed Danny’s help. The realization that she’d be more dependent on him than she would have liked troubled her, too. Danny was only ten. Was she expecting too much? Melanie Steele would say yes. Last night Danny had worked without complaint. Today, though, he was grouchy. Kate was glad to leave him standing by the pickup. His absence let her savor the pleasure of entering her first classroom in too many years.

It was a typical country school. A square box with weathered siding. The central cupola at the top of the peaked roof no longer held a school bell. The single main room fanned into wings on either side, housing the boys’ and girls’ restrooms. Wood floors were oiled a dark umber. Five short rows of desks with space to walk between occupied the center of the room. Kate counted desks for twenty students, but with Danny she would only have twelve.

A huge oak desk stood at the front of the room and behind it a massive chair. What did it say to students, Kate thought: I’m the boss?

She loved that the chalkboard was black, not green or white as in newer schools. It ran the length of the wall behind her desk. The U.S. flag stood in one corner and alongside it was a black potbellied stove. Dry wood had been stacked under one window.

As she passed the wood, Kate sniffed the pungent pine scent. The air smelled mustily of smoke, wood oil, chalk dust and industrial-grade soap. Closing her eyes, she soaked in what, to her, was the aroma of knowledge and opportunity. She had attended a similar school in rural Kansas, the one where her mom had taught until she’d died of a ruptured aneurism. Kate had always wanted to follow in her mother’s footsteps. She belonged in front of a classroom.

Laughing, she threw up her arms, hugged herself and twirled her motorized chair. The sound echoed in the empty room, prompting Danny, who’d finally wandered in, to exclaim, “Mom, what’s wrong?”

She sobered. “Everything is right for the first time in ages, honey.” Seeing his skepticism, she held out her arms. He cast a furtive glance toward the door to make sure he wouldn’t be observed before he accepted the hug. Then he pulled away fast.

“I hope you aren’t gonna do that in front of the other kids.”

“I won’t embarrass you, Danny. Are you worried kids here might bully you because you’re the teacher’s son?”

“I dunno. Maybe. In Fort Worth all the kids knew Pawpaw. They thought it was cool I got to live at the Bar R-S where all my friends trained for junior rodeo. Here…I’m nobody.”

“Just be yourself, Danny. I know you’ll make friends.”

He turned away.

“Wait, will you open the window? Oh, and put that monster teacher’s chair in the closet, please. You know, I wouldn’t turn down help in tacking up a bulletin board.”

He brightened, did as she requested, then worked feverishly to help Kate cover a small canvas board with red construction paper. Danny stapled on letters that spelled Welcome To School. Yellow happy faces peeked out from between letters. “It’s simple,” Kate said, “but it’s bright and cheery.”

“Yep, it’s nice, Mom.”

Finding a piece of chalk, Kate rose out of her chair and wrote Ms. Steele in printing and cursive on the blackboard.

A loud crunch of tires outside alerted them to someone’s arrival. Kate set the chalk in the tray and parked her wheelchair behind the desk. To anyone walking in the door, it would appear she was sitting in a regular chair.

At the door, Danny shouted, “It’s the van with the other kids.”

Kate’s confidence slipped. She caught herself rubbing damp palms down her slacks. “Let them follow their normal routine, Danny.” Calmly, Kate opened her book bag and pulled out papers.

“What should I do?” Danny asked.

“Pick a seat?” Kate waved at the desk he stood beside.

“What if some other kid sits there?”

“Oh. Good point. What do you think you should do?”

“Go back to Fort Worth. I hate it here.” He spoke with such fervor Kate winced.

“Honey, I agreed to work a full school year. In May I’ll reassess. Until then, we’re staying. Why don’t you ask the van driver what time he or she plans to return to pick up the students.”

“It’s a he,” Danny muttered, brushing past two boys who were timidly approaching.

Kate pasted on a smile. “Welcome boys. Take seats near the front of the room for now. Once I take attendance I’ll assign seating based on your grade.”

The duo, freckle-faced carrot tops, plopped down in the second row. Two giggly blond girls followed. All four appeared nervous.

The next five to straggle in tried to act cool and aloof. Three older boys waited to see where the girls who trailed in their wake decided to sit. The boys then put as much distance between themselves and the girls as humanly possible.

Kate noted that the last two students slipped in silently. The girl was possibly the youngest of the group. In a few years she would be stunning. Lustrous, straight black hair fell to below her shoulders. Eyes so dark they were almost purple studied Kate from beneath thick lashes. By comparison, the boy seemed bland. His black hair was cropped short, his liquid eyes somber. If Kate had to describe the color of his skin, she would call it flat tobacco, whereas the girl’s glowed like burnished copper. Kate had one Hispanic name on the list from Marge and two Native Americans. Checking grade levels, she concluded these two were her Native students.

Which meant the girl was her landlord’s daughter. Last night she’d barely glimpsed the child down beside Danny and Goldie.

Danny returned, trailed by a stocky man.

“You sent the boy to get me, ma’am? I’m Bill Hyder. Dave, there, is my youngest boy.” The van driver crushed a battered straw hat between work-scarred hands. His gaze lit proudly on a husky, toffee-haired teen who slumped in his seat.

Kate smiled, hoping to put the man and his son at ease. “I’m Ms. Steele. I forgot to ask Marge Goetz if I should stagger dismissals by grade levels.”