do, Josie resorted to pressing the intercom’s call button.
“Office.”
“Cami!” Josie shouted over Bonnie, “I need Nat down here right away.”
The door burst open and Shelby ran in. “What’s wrong? Sounds like someone’s dying.”
Nat followed, out of breath and barely able to speak. “C-Cami said it sounds like someone’s dying.”
Both women eyed the squirming student lineup and then Bonnie. Betsy stood alongside her, whispering something only her twin could hear—that is, if she’d quieted enough to listen.
“Sweetie,” Josie tried reasoning with the girl, “if Green Bean is your pet, I won’t let him go, but we’ll have to call your father to come get him. You know it’s against our rules to bring pets to school when it’s not for show-and-tell.”
For Josie’s ears only, Natalie said, “Hang tight, I’ll get hold of her dad.”
“LOOK,” DALLAS SAID AN HOUR later. When he’d gotten the counselor’s call, he’d been out on the back forty, vaccinating late summer calves. It was a wonder he’d even heard his cell ring. “If my girl said the snake got in her teacher’s desk by accident, then that’s what happened. Nobody saw her do it. Even if it did purposely end up there, how many boys are in her class? Could one of them have done it?” In the principal’s office, Bonnie sat on one of his knees, Betsy on the other. Stroking their hair, he added, “I’m a busy man. I don’t appreciate having to come all the way down here for something so minor.”
Principal Moody sighed. With gray hair, gray suit and black pearls, she looked more like a prison guard than someone who dealt with children. “Mr. Buckhorn, in many ways schools are communities. Much like the town of Weed Gulch, our elementary maintains easy to understand laws by which all of our citizens must abide. I’ve been at this job for over thirty-five years and not once have I seen a snake accidentally find its way into a teacher’s desk. I have, however, encountered fourteen cases of students placing their reptiles in various inappropriate locations.”
Hardening his jaw, Dallas asked, “You calling my girl a liar? Look how upset she still is…”
Bonnie hiccupped and sniffled.
The woman rambled on. “All I’m suggesting is that Bonnie may need additional lessons on appropriate classroom behavior. Perhaps you and your girls should schedule a conference with Miss Griffin?”
Imagining the girls’ scowling teacher, Dallas wondered what kind of crazy dust he’d snorted to have found her the least bit attractive. “As I’m sure you know, I went to this school, as did all of my brothers. My parents never had to deal with this kind of accusatory attitude.”
“You’re right,” the principal said. “When y’all attended Weed Gulch Elementary, a simple paddling resolved most issues.”
After ten more minutes of way-too-polite conversation that got him nowhere, Dallas hefted himself and his girls to their feet and said, “These two will be leaving now with me. Is there something I need to sign?”
The principal rose from her regal leather chair. “Miss Cami in the front office will be happy to show you the appropriate forms.”
WITH EVERYONE BACK AT THEIR tables, chubby fingers struggling with the letter F, Josie sat at her desk multitasking. On a good day, she managed putting happy stickers on papers, entering completion grades on her computer and eating a tuna sandwich. On this day, she had accomplished only one out of three.
What sort of excuse would the twins’ father make this time? He and the girls had been in the principal’s office for nearly an hour.
“Missus Gwiffin?” She glanced up to find Charlie Elton sporting a broken crayon. He also had several missing teeth. “I bwoke it. Sworry.”
“It’s okay, sweetie.” Taking the red oversize crayon, she peeled off the paper from the two halves. “See? Now it works again.”
“Thwanks!” All smiles, he dashed back to his table. Toothless grins were what led her to teaching. Feeling that every day she made a positive difference in her students’ lives was what kept her in the career. Which was why the tension mounting between herself and the Buckhorn twins was so troubling. Not only was her job usually satisfying, but school was her haven.
This weekend, she’d head into Tulsa. There were some school specialty stores that might have classroom management books to help with this sort of thing.
The door opened and in shuffled the sources of her seemingly constant consternation.
“Hi,” Josie said, wiping damp palms on her navy corduroy skirt. “Everything all right?”
“Daddy brought Green Bean’s jar,” Bonnie said with enough venom to take down a pit viper.
“He’s got Green Bean and said we need to get our stuff and go home.” Betsy looked less certain about their mission.
“Sure that’s what you want to do?” Josie asked, kneeling in front of the pair. “We’re learning about the letter F.”
“Let’s stay,” Betsy said in a loud whisper. “I love to color new letters.”
Bonnie shook her head.
At the door, their father poked his head in. “Get a move on, ladies. I’ve still got work to do.”
“Okay, Daddy.” Hand in hand, the girls dashed to their cubbies.
“Mr. Buckhorn…” Josie rose, approaching him slowly in hope of attracting as few little onlookers as possible. Today, the stern set of his features made him imposing. Miles taller than he usually seemed. Yet something about the way he cradled Bonnie’s pet in the crook of his arm gave him away as a closet teddy bear when it came to his girls. Trouble was, as a parent—or even a teacher—you couldn’t be nice all the time. “While the twins gather their things, could we talk?”
He gestured for her to lead the way to the hall.
With the classroom door open, allowing her a full view of her diligently working students, Josie said, “I’m sorry this incident inconvenienced you. Pets are only allowed on certain days of the year.”
“So I’ve heard.” Cold didn’t come close to describing the chill of his demeanor.
“Yes, you see, the snake itself is the least of our problems.”
“Our problems?” He cocked his right eyebrow.
“Bonnie and Betsy—well, in this case mainly Bonnie, but—”
“Hold it right there.” In her face, he whispered, “I’m sick and tired of accusations being made against my kids when their class is no doubt full of hooligans.”
“Hooligans?” Maybe it was the old-fashioned word itself, or the sight of harmless Thomas Quinn wiping his perpetually runny nose on his sleeve—whatever had brought on a grin, she couldn’t seem to stop.
“Think this is funny? We’re talking about my daughters’ education.”
“I
