A Bride for McCain, page 7
Common sense demanded Ross send her back to Sacramento and end it now, before he repeated the mistakes he’d made eight years ago when he’d been younger, brasher and intoxicated by his newfound wealth. Then he’d believed himself unstoppable—life had no boundaries, no limits, and a society miss could be his.
Now, older and much wiser, he knew differently. Work and duty had become the cornerstones of his life. He dealt only in facts, not emotions. And the facts were plain.
Miss Grimes was not Caroline.
And the children needed her.
So, somehow, he would have to put his personal feelings aside and see that she succeeded—come hell or high water.
“Did you pick out a few dresses at Jed’s?” McCain asked, breaking the silence between them.
She shrugged indifferently. “I hated them all.”
“Too bad.”
“Did it ever occur to you to ask me if I wanted a new dress instead of telling me I need one?”
“No.”
“You’ll get a lot further with me if you ask instead of tell.”
He stared at her, convinced she’d lost her mind. “Lady, I don’t ask. I order. That’s the way it is in my town.”
“Then you and I, sir, are going to have a difficult two years.”
The mutinous look in her eyes stoked his temper, so he struck out with the first thought that came to mind. “You deliberately ruffled Iva’s and Harriet’s feathers, didn’t you?”
Though she glared up at him, her shock was clear. “I did not.”
His gut told him she was telling the truth, but his pride wouldn’t let him back down. “You’re hoping the folks in town will hate you so much I’ll be forced to fire you, aren’t you?”
She smiled. “Actually, that hadn’t occurred to me, but now that you mention it, the idea has merit.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“If Harriet and Iva represent the kind of people that live in this town, it won’t take much to make them all hate me.”
Miss Grimes had an uphill battle ahead of her, but he’d never give her the satisfaction of saying so. “It’s your job to make them like you.”
“Well, then, let’s get to that picnic. I’m anxious to make a memorable impression.” Her words dripped with sarcasm.
Lord, save him from this woman.
Ross pulled her toward him until they were almost nose-to-nose. “You better not disappoint me, Miss Grimes.”
She shrugged as if indifferent. “Oh, stop, you’re scaring me.”
She matched him glare for glare, giving no quarter. If she didn’t make him so blessed mad, he’d have admired her spirit.
He tore his gaze away, tightened his grip on her arm and started walking again, pulling her along with him.
Soon her gait became uneven, as if her fancy shoes had started to pinch her feet. Served her right for not listening to him.
He picked up the pace. “Everything all right, Miss Grimes?” he asked. “Need to rest a spell?”
“Absolutely not.”
He guessed she’d rather eat dirt than admit she was uncomfortable. He made a mental note to order three dresses, shoes and a winter coat for her this afternoon. “Suit yourself.”
At the edge of town behind McCain’s mining office, the bang of hammers rang through the air as his men straddled the roof of the schoolhouse and repaired shingles loosened by a summer storm. The mountains trailed along the horizon, and Miller’s Pond glistened beyond the freshly whitewashed one-room building.
Miss Grimes’s flushed cheeks paled a fraction as she surveyed the scene. “Is that the schoolhouse?”
He sensed her reservation. “That building’s only temporary. As the town grows, I expect the school to grow with it. One day I see a big school up there on the hill.”
“You’re ambitious.”
He pointed at the town. “I built Prosperity in five years.”
Her gaze followed his outstretched arm. “I’ve never accomplished anything of importance in my life.” Her tone was matter-of-fact, with no trace of self-pity.
“I doubt you’ve ever been given the chance.”
“I was raised to produce heirs and be the perfect hostess.”
“Is that why you’re here now?”
“In part, yes.”
A gentle breeze teased the curls framing her face. All traces of mutiny and anger had disappeared.
“Now’s your chance to do some good for yourself and this town,” Ross stated.
“But what if I’m not up to the task?” she asked with real concern.
“You’ll do.”
“There’s still time to find someone more qualified.”
The worry in her eyes told him he had the right woman. Emma Grimes might not have experience, but he sensed she had enough grit to get her past, through or around any obstacle. “I’ve got the teacher I want.”
He took hold of her elbow and guided her toward the folks gathered directly across from the schoolhouse. A dozen women arranged platters of fried chicken, pies and breads on sawhorse tables as their babies played at their feet. The older children played duck-duck-goose or kicked around a flour sack stuffed with hay.
Miss Grimes’s spine stiffened. She drew closer to him, as if seeking his protection. A mysterious sense of satisfaction ignited inside him.
“It’s about time you got here!” shouted Sam Jenkins, his foreman.
Sam was a tall, lean man, with wheat-colored hair, a bushy mustache and a peg leg. At his side was his son, Davey, a gangly boy with his father’s coloring and a crop of freckles peppering the bridge of his nose.
“Folks was beginning to wonder if you was gonna show,” Sam said.
“We got held up.” Ross quickly introduced them.
Sam managed to conceal most of his surprise during the introductions; however, Davey’s mouth dropped open. “You’re a teacher? But you’re not old and fat.”
Sam clamped his hand on his son’s shoulder as he tore his own gaze from Miss Grimes. “Davey, now that ain’t a polite thing to say.”
Davey quickly dropped his gaze to his scuffed shoes. “Meant no disrespect, ma’am.”
Miss Grimes smiled. “None taken, Davey.”
Sam rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. “So, I hear you come all the way from Sacramento, Miss Grimes. I’ve been to Sacramento a few times. Whereabouts are you from in the city?”
“My father’s home was on Grand Street.”
“Fancy. Can’t say I ever made it to that part of town.” Sam’s gaze captured Ross’s. “Got a minute, Ross?”
“Sure.”
Sam touched the brim of his hat. “Miss Grimes, would you excuse Ross and me?”
“Certainly.”
“Davey, look after Miss Grimes for a minute.”
“Sure, Pa.”
Sam led Ross out of earshot before saying, “I never questioned you during a half-dozen campaigns in Virginia or when you wanted to move west, but I got to say, I’m not so sure about her. A woman from the fanciest part of Sacramento ain’t our kind.”
“Our kind? You sound like a snob, Sam.”
Sam stabbed his fingers through his hair. “Now, you know I judge a man by the quality of his work, not by his past or the color of his skin.”
“Don’t you think Miss Grimes deserves the same?”
“’Course she does, it’s just that, well…”
“What?”
“She’s so beautiful. You’re gonna be fighting off every young buck in the territory when word gets out about her.”
“Miss Grimes is off-limits to everyone.”
Sam glanced over his shoulder at her. “I know the men in town all promised not to court the new teacher, but I doubt they had her in mind when they made the promise. Just take a look at them now. They’re all stealing peeks at her.”
Ross looked up in time to see Lydia Crumpet, a portly woman with graying hair, smack her husband, Journey, in the back of the head for staring at Miss Grimes.
“I’ll personally deal with any man who does more than look at her,” Ross said.
“You can’t stop the men from dreaming.” Grinning like a schoolboy, Sam stared past Ross at Miss Grimes. “Hell, my dreams is gonna be extra special tonight.”
Ross’s mood soured at the thought. “Don’t waste your time dreaming of what can’t be.”
“You sound as prickly as a bear, Ross. What’s the matter? Have trouble sleeping last night yourself?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Just that I don’t believe I could sleep nights knowing Miss Grimes was under my roof.”
“Miss Grimes isn’t my type.”
“I remember a time when she was exactly the kind of woman you wanted.”
“I’ve lost the need to marry a woman with a fancy education to make me feel important.”
Ross watched Miss Grimes as the sun highlighted her ebony hair and the wind blew the dark curls off her face. He grew hard just looking at her.
Miss Grimes, like Caroline, did stir his blood, but he’d spoken honestly to Sam. There was no room in his bed or life for a woman like his late wife. He and his son had yet to recover from her deceptions.
Ross looked past Miss Grimes toward the dessert table, where Patrick stood. The boy glanced from side to side, making sure no one was watching him, then poked his finger into the side of a vanilla cake. He licked the icing from his finger before rejoining the other children.
“How’s Patrick doing?” Sam asked.
“The boy’s getting along fine.”
“You spent much time with him lately?”
“I’ve not had the time.”
“The boy needs more than just a roof over his head. He needs you to be his father.”
“All my time’s been eaten up by the expansion of the mining operation. I’ve barely had time to sleep these past few months.”
“Work’s starting to let up.”
“I know.” The truth was Ross had allowed work to take over his life. Backbreaking days were easier to bear than admitting his son hated him.
As if reading his thoughts, Sam spat on the ground. “Caroline Sinclair! If Patrick only knew what she did to you—”
“What’s done is done. I don’t ever want you to speak against Caroline to Patrick. He has a right to enjoy what few good memories he has left of his mother.”
“I’ll keep my thoughts on Caroline to myself if you do me a favor.”
“What’s that?”
“Get to know the boy. You’ve already lost eight years with Patrick. I don’t want you to let another year slip by.”
“That’s easier said than done.”
Sam clamped his hand on Ross’s shoulder. “Time heals all wounds.”
“Does it?”
Before Sam could respond, they both caught sight of Lydia Crumpet. “Brace yourself. Lydia is headed toward Miss Grimes,” Ross said.
With her young son, Abraham, on her hip, Mrs. Crumpet ate up the distance between the buffet table and Miss Grimes. Her lips were drawn tight; her face was grim.
Ross stifled a groan. Lydia Crumpet had designated herself leader of the women in the community. She was also one of a few women in town who believed her children didn’t need an education. If she didn’t like Miss Grimes, there was a good chance more women might follow her lead and keep their children home from school. The success of the school now rested solely on Miss Grimes’s shoulders and the impression she made here today.
“Ross,” Sam whispered, “this is our cue to leave.”
“Stand your ground, man.”
“I’d rather fight Indians,” he grumbled.
“So would I.” Ross nudged Sam back toward Miss Grimes and Davey. “Mrs. Crumpet,” Ross said, positioning himself beside Miss Grimes, “come meet our new schoolteacher. Emma Grimes, this is Lydia Crumpet.”
Mrs. Crumpet looked at the teacher. Instantly, her frown deepened. “Miss Grimes.”
“It’s a pleasure, Mrs. Crumpet.” Miss Grimes reached out and curled one of the toddler’s long ringlets around her finger. “She certainly is cute.”
“His name is Abraham.”
Miss Grimes cheeks paled. “Oh.”
Ross thought Miss Grimes would have bolted at that moment if Sissy Nevers hadn’t stepped forward. “You sure are looking fine today, Miss Grimes.”
A little color returned to Miss Grimes’s face. “Thank you, Sissy.”
“That dress of hers is a bit too fancy for my tastes,” Lydia offered. “I hope your teaching’s more practical than your duds.”
“I’m sure it is, Mrs. Crumpet,” Sissy stated.
“Well, then, what do you aim to teach our children?”
Miss Grimes blinked. “Reading. Writing. Ciphering.”
“And what good is ciphering gonna do my boy Billy when he’s one hundred feet below ground mining silver?” Lydia demanded.
Miss Grimes straightened her shoulders. “He’ll be able to know if he has been cheated out of any wages when payday comes.”
“Everybody in these parts knows Ross McCain don’t cheat his men.”
“Perhaps he might want to do something different with his life than mine coal,” Miss Grimes challenged.
“Mining has been good enough for his father, and it’ll be good enough for him.”
“It’ll have to do if you don’t give him choices.”
Mrs. Crumpet adjusted her baby on her hip. “Choices is for rich folks.”
Miss Grimes cocked an eyebrow. “And for people who can read and write.”
“So high and mighty,” Mrs. Crumpet snorted. “You don’t know anything about us or what our children need.”
Miss Grimes shrugged. “Perhaps you’re right.”
The air crackled with tension as the two women stared at each other.
Sissy broke the silence. “We started a quilting bee, Miss Grimes. We was just saying how nice it would be for you to join us. We meet every Thursday. Ain’t that right, Mrs. Crumpet?”
Mrs. Crumpet snorted. “Can’t see how she’d be interested in spending time with a bunch of miners’ wives.”
“Oh, that ain’t true, is it, Miss Grimes?” Sissy asked.
“I am not very handy with a needle.”
Mrs. Crumpet snorted. “Figures.”
Sissy’s grin belied the growing panic in her eyes. “I’m sure we can learn her how to sew.” She turned to Miss Grimes. “Mrs. Crumpet has made some right fancy quilts. I hear she won her share of blue ribbons at the county fairs when she lived back in Virginia.”
“They was plain old country quilts. Nothing fancy.” Mrs. Crumpet leveled her gaze on Miss Grimes. “You know anything about chopping wood, building fires in a potbellied stove or cooking?”
“I’m a teacher. Why would I need to know that?”
“Honey, those skills is basic,” Lydia said. “How you gonna take care of our children if you don’t know how to build a fire in the stove?”
Ross smelled disaster. He’d hoped Mrs. Crumpet would accept Miss Grimes; however, now he wasn’t so sure that would ever happen. “Ladies, Miss Grimes is the best teacher money can buy. If she’s lacking, I’m sure we’ll all lend a hand to show her what she needs to know.”
“Of course we will,” Sissy added.
Ross captured Miss Grimes’s elbow in his hand. “Now, if you will excuse us, I’d like to give her a tour of the schoolhouse.”
Mrs. Crumpet frowned. “This ain’t settled yet.”
“Don’t worry, Mrs. Crumpet, we’ll work it out later,” Ross assured her.
He ushered Miss Grimes toward the schoolhouse. She looked up at the plain, one-room building as she climbed the three front steps, then crossed the threshold. Ross removed his hat and followed her.
The room contained six benches, a potbellied stove in the corner, several unopened crates and a desk fashioned from sawhorses and lumber.
Miss Grimes crossed to the desk. She ran her hand over the rough pine and stared at the whiskey barrel that served as a chair. “How could that woman be so ignorant?”
“Don’t be too hard on Mrs. Crumpet. Her life’s been hard. She only wants what’s best for her children.”
Jessica whirled around. “How could working in a silver mine be good for her children?”
“It’s an honest living.”
“I didn’t mean to imply it wasn’t,” she said quickly. “But it’s a hard life. I’d hate it if my children had to earn their living digging for coal or silver.”
“These folks haven’t seen much of the world like you have. But then that’s why I hired you—to bring the world to them.”
Miss Grimes reached into one of the open crates behind the desk and retrieved a copy of a McGuffey’s Reader. “I still don’t understand why she wouldn’t want her children to read and write.”
He removed his hat and traced the brim with his thumb. “She might be afraid her children will lose respect for her if they learn to read and write when she can’t.”
“Education has nothing to do with respecting a parent.”
“Doesn’t it?”
“Of course not.”
“You need to convince her and the others of that.”
“I doubt the woman will have anything to do with me.”
“Give it time.” Ross tossed his hat on the desk, took the reader from her and began to thumb through the pages. “The last teacher made up a list of books for me to order. I had them special delivered from Chicago.”
Jessica smoothed her long fingers over a crate of books. “I’ve never seen anyone so committed to children’s education.”
Ross handed the reader back to Miss Grimes. “Learning’s about the best gift a man could have.”
“You make me feel guilty.”
“Why’s that?”
“I always hated school.”
“Then why choose teaching?”
“Let’s say teaching chose me.”
Ross remembered the fancy script and big words in her letters. “You’re nothing like your letters.”
She didn’t look up from her book. “Oh, really? How so?”
“I got the impression you loved everything about books.”
