happens to be the same as your son’s. McPherson,” she said. “I’m Jason’s teacher. I really need to talk to you,” she added, and then awaited his cooperation.
“I doubt that. I don’t really need to talk to anyone, lady.” He looked beyond her to where two women stood at the end of his sidewalk, just beyond the gate that sagged on one hinge. “Did you bring a whole contingent of cackling hens with you? Or did they just happen by for the show?” he asked.
“I didn’t intend to perform for you, sir,” Alicia told him, wishing fervently that she were anywhere else in the world right now. Back in her tiny bedroom or even in the cold schoolhouse, where her desk awaited her attention and the floor still needed sweeping due to the broken glass that littered it. Not to mention that the blackboard had not yet been wiped clean of today’s arithmetic problems.
“I doubt you could do any tricks I haven’t seen at one time or another, anyway,” he said. “Now, take your damn foot out of my door and leave my house off your list of places to visit. Mind the step when you leave. I can’t come to your rescue if you fall.”
“If I write you a letter, will you read it?” she asked, desperate to be heard by this man, in any way available.
His look in her direction bordered on crude, his words derisive. “I don’t accept love letters from strange women.”
If he was trying to be offensive and rude, he was certainly succeeding, she thought glumly. If the man thought he was going to get the best of her, he had another think coming. She hadn’t gathered her courage in both hands to be turned away at his front door. Besides, there was some indefinable look in his eyes that compelled her to continue this discussion. Her response was quick and to the point.
“Love letters? I doubt you’d ever get one,” she snipped. She watched him frown and look surprised at the same time, then she leaned forward and shoved the door, causing his chair to roll backward toward the wall, where it tilted precariously for a moment before it settled back down.
With a quick movement, she slid through the opening and glanced back out to the sidewalk in front of the house. One of the spectators had her hand over her mouth, the other was leaning forward as if to look beyond Alicia’s sturdy figure. She’d managed to draw enough attention to herself to last a long time, she thought resignedly.
There was nothing for it but to face the man in his lair, and hope he didn’t have a gun handy. If looks could kill, she’d be six feet deep in the churchyard tomorrow. Fortunately, she’d faced down more angry opponents in her life than Jake McPherson. She’d survive this encounter. One way or another, she’d speak her piece before she left this house. Some way, she vowed silently, she’d make him smile before she was done.
He trembled with anger, his hands gripping the tires of his chair. Unless she was mistaken, his first inclination was to run her over where she stood. Perhaps he was having second thoughts, she decided. Having gotten a good look at her, he might have recognized that she was not a woman to be trifled with.
Taller than most women, she stood eight inches over five feet. Blessed by her family background with an ample backside and a bosom to equal it, she was a match for any average man. Any average man, she thought, beginning to rue her actions. She blushed anew as she recognized her brazen behavior, aware that she had crossed the boundary lines of good conduct.
“I apologize, Mr. McPherson,” she said quietly. “I’ve been rude. If this matter weren’t so important, I wouldn’t have come calling without first requesting an appointment.”
“Rude doesn’t begin to describe you, ma’am,” he told her. “You’ve forced your way into my house, attacked my person and now you refuse to leave.”
From the rear of the house, a door slammed and Jake’s head turned in that direction. “You’ll have to excuse me. My son has come in, and he’ll need help with fixing supper.”
“Jason fixes the meals?” she asked. The boy was only nine years old. Certainly old enough for chores, but far too young to be entrusted with cooking on a stove he could barely reach with safety.
“As well as you’d expect,” Jake answered, “our housekeeper quit.”
Alicia tried in vain to hide her smile. “I heard from one of the ladies in the general store that you have a difficult time keeping any hired help.”
“That’s none of your damn business,” he told her. “Now, just leave, if you please. That’s about as polite as I’m going to be today. You’d better open that door and walk across that threshold right now, or I’ll send Jason after the sheriff.”
“Oh, I think perhaps the sheriff would be eager to see your son, Mr. McPherson,” she said quietly. “However, I doubt that Jason is interested in showing his face anywhere near a lawman right now.”
Jake’s hands moved up to grip the armrests and then, as if he sought a distraction, he smoothed the lap robe that concealed his lower limbs. What there was left of them. One was longer than the other, Alicia noticed, for the small quilt outlined Jake’s right knee and draped from it. The other leg was even more damaged, it seemed, missing above the knee.
She felt a surge of pity for the man who displayed such bravado, and yet recognized that he would not appreciate her softening toward him. “I really need to talk to you,” she said after a long moment.
“Jason!” It was a bellow that would have done credit to a bull, she thought, as his voice reverberated from the bare walls and floors of the hallway. “Come here,” Jake called, no trace of patience marring his sharp tones.
“I’m fixin’ supper, Pa.” Thin and reedy, the boy’s voice held apprehension in its depths, and Alicia knew, without a doubt, that he was aware of her presence.
“Shall I come get you?” Jake asked, his voice a harsh whisper now, a sound that was more awe-inspiring than the bellow had been. It had the desired effect, for the narrow-shouldered lad who pushed open the kitchen door and stepped into the hallway did so with haste.
“Are you in trouble?” Jake asked, leaning forward in his chair as he turned it to face his son, using swift movements of both hands.
“I dunno,” Jason said, his jaw set, his dark eyes flashing defiance.
“Do you know this lady?” Jake asked.
The boy nodded, tossing a look of appraisal at Alicia before he studied the floor at his feet. “She’s my teacher,” he said sullenly.
“Why is she here?”
Jason’s head came up abruptly and his eyes widened in surprise. “Ain’t she told you already?”
Jake shook his head. “I’m waiting for you to tell me.”
“Let her do the talkin’,” the boy said, and Alicia thought that, for one so young, he wore an immense chip on his shoulder. He spoke almost as an adult, uttering more words in these few moments than he’d delivered in her classroom all week. The boy was bright, there was no doubt about that, for when he deigned to turn in an assignment, it was far superior to the other two boys of his age. Not only was he bright, she thought grimly, he also was in trouble—of that she was dead certain.
Jake looked at Alicia again. “You’ve got one minute to talk,” he said gruffly. “If the
