Dakota Dusk by Lauraine Snelling Page A

his consideration. All of a sudden, the coming interview didn’t seem quite as frightening. Surely a man as considerate of his children as this would be sympathetic to her plight.
    “Now, you want to talk with me. How can I help you?” He looked from Rebekka to Mrs. Sampson and back.
    The silence deepened as the discomfort level in the room rose. Rebekka looked toward Mrs. Sampson and received a nod of encouragement. “I . . . I—” She pictured herself in front of a classroom of students and took a deep breath. “I cannot remain at the Strands’ any longer. The situation there is totally untenable and I must have another place to live.” The words gained strength and purpose as they followed one another, starting at a stagger and ending in a march.
    Mr. Larson leaned back in his chair, rubbing the line of demarcation between summer and winter on his forehead. “Well, you know, we’ve always done things for the schoolteacher this way. He or she, you in this case, moves from home to home throughout the school year. We excuse those folks who absolutely can’t afford to feed the teacher or who don’t have room for one.”
    “I know.” Rebekka lifted her chin a mite higher.
    “What else can we do? Now, if you were married, you’d be living in your husband’s house and then there wouldn’t be no problem.”
    Rebekka bit her lip on a retort to that nugget of information.
    “Just what’s the problem with finishing out your stay at the Strands’?”
    Rebekka refused to cringe at the blunt question. Instead, she looked Mr. Larson straight in the face and answered, “I’d rather not say.” Now she knew what a witness must feel like in court.
    Out of the corner of her eye Rebekka could see Mrs. Sampson straighten herself, an act that reminded her of a hen all fluffed up and ready to attack anyone who disturbs her chicks.
    Mr. Larson raised a hand. “Please don’t think I’m not concerned about this. I am only trying to get to the bottom of a problem.” Mrs. Sampson cleared her throat.
    Rebekka felt a burst of strength, as if she were inhaling confidence. “We have worked together now for the good of Willowford’s children for nearly two years. Wouldn’t you agree that it’s been a productive two years, Mr. Larson?”
    “Well, of course.”
    “Wouldn’t you like to continue the progress that we’ve made?” Without giving him time for a response, she sailed on. “At this time, we have all the school-age children in the district enrolled in school and two of our eldest are preparing for college. Now, wouldn’t you say those are major accomplishments?”
    “Yes, I—”
    Mrs. Sampson leaned back just a trifle.
    “I would be sorry to see the education of Willowford’s children suffer even the smallest of disruptions, wouldn’t you?” Rebekka asked.
    Mr. Larson nodded.
    “I hear there’s a shortage of teachers coming out of Normal School the last couple of years.” Mrs. Sampson nodded sagely. “The folks of Willowford do appreciate having a trained teacher over in the schoolhouse.” While unspoken, her “for a change” rang through the quiet of the room.
    Mr. Larson rubbed his forehead again. “Now, look. This is the way we’ve always done it. And it’s worked. Now, why should we change?”
    “Remember that incident one night last summer?” Mrs. Sampson tossed the question out, casually, as if she were pitching a pebble into a pond.
    Mr. Larson’s lower face matched his forehead. He closed his eyes. “Oh, my.”
    “Now, the ways I see it, Miss Stenesrude would be much closer to the school, were she to live in my house. Beings we’re just across the creek from the schoolhouse.”
    “But we have no money.”
    “And that way she could go over on cold mornings to start the stove earlier. Keep Willowford’s children warmer, you might say.” Only a groan rose from the other chair.
    “You can be sure I would do my part for the children of my community and give you a real good rate.