West, it seemed even more so than in Boston. One minute Billy had been reading and the next he was fighting. So quick to anger.
It made her all the more determined to impart a decent education to her students. They depended on her. “‘The law is reason free from passion,’” she quoted under her breath. Aristotle. Which meant in this instance...hmm...she must not let her emotions interfere with her judgment when she handed out a punishment to Billy and Duncan. She could take it further, she supposed, and make sure her emotions were not transmitted to the students. Calm, cool, collected—that was the attitude. She blew out another breath. Thank goodness for Aristotle.
Billy Odom never came back to class.
* * *
Craig Parker pounded the nail into the last plank of wood that now boarded up the entrance to the Farnsworth Mining Company’s one and only mine. He took a moment to check the sturdiness of his handiwork and figured it would do the job of warning off any curiosity seekers. He’d been around long enough to know that the lure of possible riches, even from an abandoned mine, still called to opportunistic men. There was always someone who thought they knew better than anyone else and could find a sliver of gold if they just looked hard enough—the danger be hanged.
For a mining town it had come as a surprise that so many of the men were family inclined and wanting to settle here in Clear Springs. The boom on gold had played out except for a few of the mines and those were dwindling. It’s why the town had gone from nearly two thousand folks, mostly living in a tent city, to just over one hundred. Those that had stayed were putting down roots, strong roots. They built a church. And just finished a permanent school. It was a lot like the place he’d grown up in farther north.
He stowed his hammer in his saddlebag and mounted his horse, Jasper, then reined the gelding toward town. When he’d taken the job of sheriff, he hadn’t considered closing up a mine would be part of his job, but Chet, the owner of the mine, had become something of a friend. After facing down thieves, Chet had been laid up healing from an injury. He was now back to work at a viable mine, but Craig figured boarding up this millstone was the least he could do for the kid.
Since that first bit of excitement things had been fairly quiet in town. The next haul of gold from the Palomino Mine made it down to the bank in San Diego without so much as a whisper of trouble. He wasn’t complaining, but other than jailing obnoxious drunks overnight so that they could sober up, he’d like to feel that he was doing more for the community that had hired him.
Pressing his legs against his horse, he urged him into a gentle lope. The morning haze was gone, the sun high overhead and filtering through the boughs of the tall pines. The crisp, dry air crackled with a static charge every so often and held a clearness he never got tired of seeing.
He followed a self-made route every day. Now that school was in session, he had taken to riding by the new schoolhouse. He told himself that it was because the school was part of the township, but deep down, he knew he wouldn’t mind a quick gander at the pretty new schoolteacher. He’d seen her once in the yard, and watched amused as she played ball with the children. He was fairly sure that she’d seen him too. For a moment her gaze had caught his. She had quickly extricated herself from the game, brushing back the tendrils of dark brown hair that had fallen into her line of vision, and then refocused on him. With a flounce of her skirt, she had disappeared inside the schoolhouse.
He took the deer trail across the meadow and through the pines until he came to the shallow creek a short distance from the school. He found his usual spot where the span of the creek was twenty feet wide and the water rippled gently over the submerged rocks, creating small whorls in the shallows. Dismounting, he released the reins and let his horse drink.
Fifty feet upstream something yellow flashed.
Along the bank a young girl had laid across a large boulder, stretched herself as long as possible and was trying to retrieve something from the ripples. She wore an overly large green knitted sweater over a yellow pinafore smudged with dirt. Blond braids hung down and skimmed the surface of the water as she reached for whatever eluded her in the water. He hoped it was worth a dousing, because it looked like that was going to happen in about two seconds.
“Here, now!” he called, striding toward her. “What are you up to there?”
Startled, she drew back her hand. When she caught sight of him she swallowed hard and then scrambled to her feet, wiping her hands on her wrinkled pinafore. Now that she was upright rather than horizontal he judged her to be about six...or perhaps seven years of age.
He stopped fifteen feet from her so as not to scare her or make her trip. With his big frame, he had that effect on some children. “I’m Sheriff Parker, miss. What are you up to this fine day and shouldn’t you be in school?”
Telltale red blotches immediately blossomed on her cheeks, answering that question. He’d done his share of playing hooky when he was younger. He figured it did a boy good to have some freedom. But girls? He had never considered much what a young girl would want to do in her spare time.
“What is it you were after there in the water?”
“Nothin’,” she said in a high, airy voice.
“So you can talk.” Now that they had established a small amount of comfort with each other, he stepped over to the bank and peered into the shallows. A new copper penny shone through the mild ripples. He retrieved it easily and held it out to her.
She snatched it from his fingers as though he might take it away in the next instance.
“Time for you to get to class now. It just so happens that I was heading that way. We can go together.”
At that she looked a bit nervous. Suddenly she concentrated on her feet as she shuffled through the crisp brown leaves that littered the deer path leading back to the school. He grabbed his horse by the reins and followed at a short distance, amused that her steps slowed the closer they came to the school. Was she anticipating a scolding from the new teacher? The woman hadn’t looked that ferocious, but maybe to such a small girl everything looked big and scary.
They came to the side yard and he stepped ahead of her. “Wait here.” He tied his horse to the tie line.
He rapped on the thick wood door before entering. A young girl in the first row was standing and reading aloud. At the front of the room, Miss Starling paced slowly, back and forth with a book resting open in her hand as she followed along with the reader. The white blouse she wore tucked in at her waist to a dark blue skirt, giving her a crisp, professional air. She looked like a no-nonsense schoolmarm, pinched mouth and everything, in complete control, but he had to smile to himself at the amount of chalk dust streaking her skirt at her hips.
He started down the center aisle that separated the girls from the boys.
She stopped pacing and looked up from her book, frowning at his interruption.
“Sheriff? What can I do for you?”
“Miss Starling. I need you to step outside for a minute.”
“What? Now? But I’m in the middle of class.”
Not the response he was looking for. “It won’t take long.”
She looked like she had just sucked on a lemon. Yep. The expression marring her pretty face at the moment was decidedly miffed.
She closed her book with a whump, the sudden noise startling half the
