of Atlanta to form a friendship.”
Townsend nodded to his corporal, who brought another chair into the small space, so Major Randolph could sit.
Susanna took out her teaching certificates. “You’re a busy man. I won’t take up much of your time.”
“That makes you more efficient than most of my company officers,” he said, taking the papers from her. “Let us see here. Hmm, a second grade certificate, and you attended Oberlin College for three years.” He put down the paper and looked at her over his glasses. “This already makes you more intelligent than most of my officers. All they did was go to West Point and accumulate demerits.”
Susanna laughed. “Major Townsend, I doubt that!”
“I exaggerate only slightly,” he admitted. “Most served with distinction in our late war. You will teach a four-month school, ending in mid-May, for which the officers with schoolchildren have contracted to pay you forty dollars a month?”
“That is my understanding,” she replied. “My certificate is valid only in Pennsylvania, but the closest examination site here is Denver.”
“No matter. Pennsylvania’s loss is our gain.”
“Thank you, Major Townsend,” she said. “I believe there is a contract …”
“… which I have right here.” The major took a paper from his corporal. “Women and children in garrison come and go, but right now, you have ten students ranging in age from seven to fifteen. Each classroom day will begin following guard mount. Mess call will be observed, and then you will resume teaching until an hour before stable call.”
The major correctly interpreted her perplexed expression. “Let’s make that from nine-thirty to noon, and then one to three o’clock. Four and a half hours to educate a collection of children not used to school.” He leaned back in his chair. “My children are being educated in the East, with my dear wife. Army life often means separation. Your being here means officers’ children will be able to stay with their families. I doubt the children will be grateful, but I am. Sign, Mrs. Hopkins.”
She signed. He took the contract from her and stood up, ending their brief interview. “Joe can show you our idea for a classroom. Good day.”
She nodded to Major Townsend and was almost through the door when he stopped her.
“Mrs. Hopkins, I am sorry for your loss,” he said simply. “It always seems that war is hardest on those who don’t wage it.”
Red-faced, Susanna nodded and let Major Randolph usher her out. “I hate deception,” she whispered, when they were outside in the cold again. “Maybe I should have said something. You know him well. Should I?”
The surgeon remained silent for a long moment, then shook his head slowly. “I think the moment for that passed when Emily told her lie,” he whispered back. “I confess I am not certain what to do. What do you think, Mrs. Hopkins?”
I think this will not end well
, she told herself.
Chapter Six
S he let him take her arm on the icy steps outside. The cold air felt good on her face; too bad it could not calm her conscience.
“I think this the best place for school,” the major was saying as they continued around the parade ground until they stood in front of Old Bedlam, with its bizarre red paint. “The front room used to be headquarters, during the late war,” he said, careful with her on the steps. “It’ll be a good classroom. As you will see, we’ve been accumulating desks.”
He opened the door and it swung on creaky hinges. He went to the window and pulled back the draperies, which made her cough.
“God, what a firetrap,” the surgeon said mildly. “What do you think?”
When the dust settled, Susanna walked aroundthe room, admiring the mismatched but suitable desks. She looked at a connecting door.
“Bachelor officer’s quarters,” he said. “Some overworked second lieutenant with no family lives there. We call them orphans. This building is referred to as the
Townsend nodded to his corporal, who brought another chair into the small space, so Major Randolph could sit.
Susanna took out her teaching certificates. “You’re a busy man. I won’t take up much of your time.”
“That makes you more efficient than most of my company officers,” he said, taking the papers from her. “Let us see here. Hmm, a second grade certificate, and you attended Oberlin College for three years.” He put down the paper and looked at her over his glasses. “This already makes you more intelligent than most of my officers. All they did was go to West Point and accumulate demerits.”
Susanna laughed. “Major Townsend, I doubt that!”
“I exaggerate only slightly,” he admitted. “Most served with distinction in our late war. You will teach a four-month school, ending in mid-May, for which the officers with schoolchildren have contracted to pay you forty dollars a month?”
“That is my understanding,” she replied. “My certificate is valid only in Pennsylvania, but the closest examination site here is Denver.”
“No matter. Pennsylvania’s loss is our gain.”
“Thank you, Major Townsend,” she said. “I believe there is a contract …”
“… which I have right here.” The major took a paper from his corporal. “Women and children in garrison come and go, but right now, you have ten students ranging in age from seven to fifteen. Each classroom day will begin following guard mount. Mess call will be observed, and then you will resume teaching until an hour before stable call.”
The major correctly interpreted her perplexed expression. “Let’s make that from nine-thirty to noon, and then one to three o’clock. Four and a half hours to educate a collection of children not used to school.” He leaned back in his chair. “My children are being educated in the East, with my dear wife. Army life often means separation. Your being here means officers’ children will be able to stay with their families. I doubt the children will be grateful, but I am. Sign, Mrs. Hopkins.”
She signed. He took the contract from her and stood up, ending their brief interview. “Joe can show you our idea for a classroom. Good day.”
She nodded to Major Townsend and was almost through the door when he stopped her.
“Mrs. Hopkins, I am sorry for your loss,” he said simply. “It always seems that war is hardest on those who don’t wage it.”
Red-faced, Susanna nodded and let Major Randolph usher her out. “I hate deception,” she whispered, when they were outside in the cold again. “Maybe I should have said something. You know him well. Should I?”
The surgeon remained silent for a long moment, then shook his head slowly. “I think the moment for that passed when Emily told her lie,” he whispered back. “I confess I am not certain what to do. What do you think, Mrs. Hopkins?”
I think this will not end well
, she told herself.
Chapter Six
S he let him take her arm on the icy steps outside. The cold air felt good on her face; too bad it could not calm her conscience.
“I think this the best place for school,” the major was saying as they continued around the parade ground until they stood in front of Old Bedlam, with its bizarre red paint. “The front room used to be headquarters, during the late war,” he said, careful with her on the steps. “It’ll be a good classroom. As you will see, we’ve been accumulating desks.”
He opened the door and it swung on creaky hinges. He went to the window and pulled back the draperies, which made her cough.
“God, what a firetrap,” the surgeon said mildly. “What do you think?”
When the dust settled, Susanna walked aroundthe room, admiring the mismatched but suitable desks. She looked at a connecting door.
“Bachelor officer’s quarters,” he said. “Some overworked second lieutenant with no family lives there. We call them orphans. This building is referred to as the
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