A Texas Legacy Christmas by DiAnn Mills Page A

the fire provided. Miss Scott had a large class. Looked like she could use a little help, but then, he well recalled how she kept a classroom in order.
    “And who are these beautiful children?” she said. “I heard you returned from New York with a delightful set of twins.”
    “News travels fast. They are mine. I’m in the process of adopting them. Charlie, Curly, this is Miss Scott. She will be your new teacher.”
    Charlie turned her little face bathed in freckles up toward him. “Where is her long black dress?”
    “Miss Scott is not a sister. We don’t have those ladies in this school.” He offered Miss Scott a smile. “They were previously taught by Catholic sisters.”
    “How much schooling have they had?”
    Zack dragged his tongue over his lips. He stared down at the two. “How long have you been going to school?”
    Curly shook his head. “Usually we just sneaked off to sell newspapers.”
    Zack thought he’d sink right through the floor. “Miss Scott, these children lived in an orphanage in New York. Life was hard, and—”
    “Never you mind, Zack. We’ll do just fine.” She smiled wide, her round face a picture of caring and concern.
    He wanted to hug her. “Thank you. I’d like to start them tomorrow. This is their first day in Kahlerville, and I’d like to get them a little more settled.”
    “Excellent idea. I’ll be looking for them in the morning. Don’t forget to bring lunches. And I’ll need for you to provide me with their full names and birthdays.” Miss Scott placed her hands on her ample hips. “I suggest you have your Uncle Grant take a look at them to make sure they’re healthy.”
    He hadn’t thought of that. “I will.” He grasped Charlie and Curly’s hands. “Have a good morning.” He gazed down at the twins. “What are you supposed to say?”
    “Have a good morning,” they chorused.
    Once outside, Zack complimented the twins on their good behavior. He focused his attention on the newspaper office—feeling like a boy again heading for penny candy. The town’s paper had gone through a few owners, but he had visions of a daily paper that incorporated news from the neighboring communities and essentially brought the folks together.
    They stepped inside, and he cautioned the children not to bother anything until he was finished, especially if they were looking forward to fun at the ranch. Maybe his bribery approach wasn’t the best, but how else could he manage them? The familiar smells of paper and ink were better than a quilt on a cold night.
    “Mornin’, Zack,” Hank called out. “I heard you got back to town.”
    “Yes sir. Last evening’s train. I sure am glad you decided to stay on and help me with the paper. I appreciate your talking Gilbert into staying, too. I really need a master printer and journeyman, and you two are the best. Thanks for persuading the fellas to stay in the back to set type. Without everyone here, the paper will not fulfill the vision we’ve talked about.” He took in the familiar sights of the press and the typesetter. The Frontier Press was peanuts next to the size of the New York Times, but this paper was his. And the ownership made him feel powerfully good.
    “Helpin’ you will be a whole lot easier than trying to run it all myself. Gil is a smart man, and he’s learning real fast. When there are edits to do, he has a good eye for catching mistakes. We need a couple of reporters, but that will come.”
    A small desk cluttered with papers sat at an angle in the corner of the room. A typewriter rose from the middle of the disarray like a chimney soaring above a roaring fire—a fire of news. Life. Truth. Homespun and worldwide. Yes, he was home. The smells, the sound of the typesetter, and the taste of excitement in the air were in his blood. He wanted so much for this paper to bless and inform the people of Kahlerville, and he hoped his ideas would soon take form. Not today, but tomorrow he’d tell Hank that the