cheeks reddened beneath his hat. “And where might that be?”
“Caldwell’s.”
Allen crossed his arms. He did not look happy, but what could he say in the face of Oscar’s proposal—it would save him grub and Oscar would still be holding to the deal they’d struck to train the colt.
“If I were you, I’d be careful choosing my friends. A man like Caldwell doesn’t have many and there’s a reason for that.”
Oscar smiled, because he had the boss right where he wanted him. “I was talking about helping Sarah. She cares about her students and I’m glad to help her out.”
Allen’s eyes narrowed to slits. “She needs to be careful she’s looking out for the right students.”
The man’s audacity riled Oscar, but he worked to keep a neutral expression fixed on his face.
“I think she is. Good day,” said Oscar simply, and turned and walked toward the barn. He’d gotten what he wanted, and it made him more determined than ever to make this plan work.
* * *
That evening, Sarah furiously scrubbed the blackboard with a damp rag. It was silly to take out her frustration in this way, but the school board’s unrelenting stance on the Caldwell family—led by Paul Allen’s stubbornness—infuriated her. They refused to acknowledge that the family needed help, and they wouldn’t budge on their request for a completely new script for the Christmas pageant.
“You gonna scrub right through that poor, defenseless blackboard?”
A familiar male voice, laced with laughter, came from the doorway and Sarah whirled toward the horseman, one hand at her heart.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you. I told you I was coming to get you. You about ready to go?”
He leaned one brawny shoulder against the doorpost, hat tapping lazily against his thigh. His cavalier attitude was the last thing she needed right now when she was strung tight, with no idea how to help the Caldwell girls and her job under threat from a heartless school board.
Sarah turned back to the blackboard, this time careful to disguise her upset with smooth strokes. “I have things to finish up here. It won’t be the first time I’ve walked home in the dark.”
“I want to talk to you about the Caldwell girls and their father.”
She wasn’t sure she could talk about the situation without her anger prompting tears. “Perhaps we could speak tomorrow.”
Without warning, he clasped her hand, stilling her scrubbing. When he tugged the damp rag from her grasp, Sarah released it to him, prepared to insist he leave her alone. Except he turned and began washing the blackboard, nudging her aside with his shoulder.
“What are you doing?”
“Helping you.” He didn’t stop erasing the chalk marks left behind from today’s lessons.
“Why?”
Now he looked over his shoulder at her. And winked. “Because I’m hungry. The sooner you finish up, the sooner we can get going.”
Stubborn man. But if he wasn’t going to leave without her, she might as well attend to her other evening chores. She moved to the now-dead fire in the potbellied stove and used a stick to stir the cold ashes, then prepared the tinder for lighting first thing in the morning. The days were getting colder. It was one major reason she was concerned for the Caldwell girls. While Susie wore shoes—a scuffed pair, likely Cecilia’s hand-me-downs—Cecilia still came to the classroom each day with bare feet. Did their stepfather know she needed shoes? Could he even afford them?
By rote, Sarah finished setting the fire and moved to the broom, intending to sweep out the aisle and vestibule, where the children tended to track in the most dirt, but Oscar moved to take the broom from her and began the task.
“I guess your meeting didn’t go so well.”
He didn’t look at her, focusing on the broom in his hands.
She hummed an affirmative as she gathered the schoolbooks she wanted to take with her to review for tomorrow. Several of the children had seemed to have trouble
“Caldwell’s.”
Allen crossed his arms. He did not look happy, but what could he say in the face of Oscar’s proposal—it would save him grub and Oscar would still be holding to the deal they’d struck to train the colt.
“If I were you, I’d be careful choosing my friends. A man like Caldwell doesn’t have many and there’s a reason for that.”
Oscar smiled, because he had the boss right where he wanted him. “I was talking about helping Sarah. She cares about her students and I’m glad to help her out.”
Allen’s eyes narrowed to slits. “She needs to be careful she’s looking out for the right students.”
The man’s audacity riled Oscar, but he worked to keep a neutral expression fixed on his face.
“I think she is. Good day,” said Oscar simply, and turned and walked toward the barn. He’d gotten what he wanted, and it made him more determined than ever to make this plan work.
* * *
That evening, Sarah furiously scrubbed the blackboard with a damp rag. It was silly to take out her frustration in this way, but the school board’s unrelenting stance on the Caldwell family—led by Paul Allen’s stubbornness—infuriated her. They refused to acknowledge that the family needed help, and they wouldn’t budge on their request for a completely new script for the Christmas pageant.
“You gonna scrub right through that poor, defenseless blackboard?”
A familiar male voice, laced with laughter, came from the doorway and Sarah whirled toward the horseman, one hand at her heart.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you. I told you I was coming to get you. You about ready to go?”
He leaned one brawny shoulder against the doorpost, hat tapping lazily against his thigh. His cavalier attitude was the last thing she needed right now when she was strung tight, with no idea how to help the Caldwell girls and her job under threat from a heartless school board.
Sarah turned back to the blackboard, this time careful to disguise her upset with smooth strokes. “I have things to finish up here. It won’t be the first time I’ve walked home in the dark.”
“I want to talk to you about the Caldwell girls and their father.”
She wasn’t sure she could talk about the situation without her anger prompting tears. “Perhaps we could speak tomorrow.”
Without warning, he clasped her hand, stilling her scrubbing. When he tugged the damp rag from her grasp, Sarah released it to him, prepared to insist he leave her alone. Except he turned and began washing the blackboard, nudging her aside with his shoulder.
“What are you doing?”
“Helping you.” He didn’t stop erasing the chalk marks left behind from today’s lessons.
“Why?”
Now he looked over his shoulder at her. And winked. “Because I’m hungry. The sooner you finish up, the sooner we can get going.”
Stubborn man. But if he wasn’t going to leave without her, she might as well attend to her other evening chores. She moved to the now-dead fire in the potbellied stove and used a stick to stir the cold ashes, then prepared the tinder for lighting first thing in the morning. The days were getting colder. It was one major reason she was concerned for the Caldwell girls. While Susie wore shoes—a scuffed pair, likely Cecilia’s hand-me-downs—Cecilia still came to the classroom each day with bare feet. Did their stepfather know she needed shoes? Could he even afford them?
By rote, Sarah finished setting the fire and moved to the broom, intending to sweep out the aisle and vestibule, where the children tended to track in the most dirt, but Oscar moved to take the broom from her and began the task.
“I guess your meeting didn’t go so well.”
He didn’t look at her, focusing on the broom in his hands.
She hummed an affirmative as she gathered the schoolbooks she wanted to take with her to review for tomorrow. Several of the children had seemed to have trouble
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