Paper Roses (18 page)

After Pastor Sempert delivered the benediction, he paused. “Before we depart, our mayor has asked to speak with you about a matter of importance to the town.” A low murmur greeted his words as Michel Ladre made his way to the front.

“Thank you, Pastor Sempert.” The mayor accompanied his next words with a smile. “I know you’re anxious to return home to your Sunday dinners, and so I won’t keep you too long, but, as Pastor Sempert said, this is a matter of importance.” Michel paused, letting his words echo in the now silent church. “Our town is more than ten years old. We’ve grown and thrived in that decade. We’ve built two magnificent houses of worship. We even have a post office. But, there is one thing we do not have.” Again, he paused for emphasis. “We have no school.”

The murmurs resumed, louder than before. Michel waited until they’d subsided before he continued. “I believe it is time that we, the residents of Ladreville, address the needs of our youngest citizens and establish a school.”

Sarah kept her face impassive, refusing to smile at the way he emphasized the first person singular pronoun. When she’d approached the mayor with her proposal, he’d greeted most of her statements with frowns, making her fear Clay had been right and Michel would not support her.

“There is some merit to your suggestion,” Ladreville’s founder admitted when Sarah had exhausted her arguments. “I fear, though, that the townspeople would not be receptive were you to present it. You are, after all, an outsider.” Michel looked out the window, then clicked his fingers, as if an idea had suddenly occurred to him. “There may be a way to persuade them. The citizens of Ladreville trust me. If I were to tell them we needed a school, most likely they would agree.” Michel had narrowed his eyes as he cautioned, “We would, of course, have to ensure that no one knew you and I had discussed this.”

Sarah had nodded solemnly, though inwardly she was rejoicing. She cared not a whit who took credit. What mattered was that the town would soon have a school. Eva would receive the education she needed, and Thea would be happy.

“Is there anyone who does not agree that this is a vital need?” The mayor raised his voice slightly, almost as if defying someone to refute him. When no one did, he gave the congregation a benevolent smile. “I was confident you would see the wisdom of proceeding, and so I took the next step. I’m sure you all realize we cannot have a school without a schoolmarm. That would be like chicken and dumplings without the chicken.”

As he’d intended, laughter greeted Michel’s words. “We are most fortunate to have among us a young lady who’s served as a teacher.” Though he was exaggerating her experience, Sarah would not contradict him, for she realized the importance of gaining the community’s confidence. “Miss Sarah Dobbs has agreed to assume the responsibility of ensuring that our children receive an education worthy of the great town we’ve founded. Please rise, Miss Dobbs.”

As attention shifted from the mayor to Sarah, a round of applause filled the church. Afterward, as she’d anticipated, Sarah was surrounded by a group of women asking questions about the school. A few seemed dubious, as if doubting her credentials, but the majority appeared excited by the prospect of their children receiving a formal education.

“The mayor had a good idea,” a tall woman with a strong German accent said.

Her companion, shorter and a few years younger, nodded. “I’m glad he knew you used to teach.”

“That’s his job,” the tall woman declared. “He knows everything about everyone in Ladreville.”

Everything except who killed Austin.

“I knew God would answer my prayers.” Isabelle gave Sarah a radiant smile. It was the next morning, and though Sarah had attended both churches’ services to be present for the mayor’s speeches, this was the first opportunity she had had to talk with her friend. Her concerns over Isabelle’s reaction vanished when Isabelle touched her hand. “God led Michel to realize we needed a school and that you’d be the perfect teacher.”

Whether it was God’s hand or something else that had provided the opportunity, Sarah was happy that every hurdle was being surmounted. The mayor had agreed, the townspeople had approved the idea, and both congregations had ratified the use of their fellowship halls. The next step was to purchase books and other supplies.

“There are so many things to get ready.” Sarah had tucked a piece of paper and a pencil into her pinafore pocket so she could make notes each time an idea struck her.

“I wish we had more of what you need here.” Isabelle made a moue as she perused Sarah’s list. Though the store was filled with merchandise Ladreville’s residents needed for their daily lives, it was not an emporium designed to outfit a school.

“You have no reason to stock chalk, slates, and McGuffey readers.” Sarah had accepted the fact that there were more challenges to overcome. The townspeople had agreed to provide tables and benches to serve as desks, but no one had school supplies. That was why she’d approached Isabelle.

“Maman said it would take three to four weeks if we order from San Antonio.”

Sarah frowned. “I had hoped to begin classes sooner than that. I know I’ll lose some pupils during the summer, because their parents will need them to work in the fields. If I start quickly, perhaps I can kindle enough enthusiasm that they’ll be eager to return to school in the fall.”

“You’ll do it.” Isabelle’s voice radiated confidence. “I saw the way you helped Eva learn to add without making her feel stupid. That’s a special talent.”

Though praise was pleasant, in this case, Sarah knew it was undeserved. “Eva’s intelligent. All she needed was some encouragement.”

“That’s what we all need.”

“Your sister is ready for the next step.” Clay studied Sarah carefully. She’d done something different to her hair. Though he couldn’t pinpoint the change, she looked ready for a party, not a trip to the corral. Her expression did not match the fancy coiffure. Both she and Thea stood by the fence, but only one of them was enthusiastic about the animals within.

“What is the next step?” Sarah asked.

“Riding alone.”

The blood drained from her face so quickly that Clay feared she would faint. As he reached out to steady her, his hand registered the fragility of her arm. Though she was at least four inches shorter and thirty pounds lighter than Patience, Clay hadn’t realized Sarah’s bones were equally slender. It was no wonder her leg had been so badly shattered, no wonder she still feared horses. “Not completely alone,” he said, attempting to reassure Sarah. “I’ll be walking at Thea’s side, but it’s true she’ll be the only one mounted.”

A faint color returned to Sarah’s cheeks. “She’s too young.”

The problem wasn’t Thea’s age, and they both knew it. “Age has nothing to do with it.” Clay kept his hand on Sarah’s arm, enjoying the warmth that radiated through his fingers. “Thea’s more than ready; she’s eager. C’mon, Sarah. You have to have seen how much she loves riding and how she tries to pretend I’m not there. With a little encouragement, your sister will be an excellent rider.” Something in his words appeared to have breached her defenses, for Sarah nodded slowly, as if she agreed with his assessment. “Trust me. I won’t let her fall.”

Sarah bit her lip, her indecision clear. Then she nodded again. “All right. Thea can ride alone. If she’s happy about that, she won’t mind so much when I leave her behind tomorrow.”

“What’s happening then?” Sarah left Thea at Mary’s every day, yet she was acting as if something would be different tomorrow.

“Ride, Papa Clay.” Thea tugged on his hand, clearly impatient with the adults’ conversation.

“In a minute. I need to talk to Sarah first.” Clay reached into his pocket, pulling out two carrots. “Why don’t you give Nora and Shadow a treat?” They recognized Thea’s youth and were gentle when she fed them. As Thea scampered toward the horses, Clay turned back to Sarah. “What’s special about tomorrow?”

“I need supplies for the school, so I thought I’d take the wagon to San Antonio.”

Clay felt his jaw drop. Perhaps he’d been mistaken. Perhaps his ears had deceived him. “You thought you would go to San Antonio alone?”

Sarah nodded, as if what she proposed were perfectly reasonable. “I asked a few people, and everyone said I couldn’t get lost.”

He had not been mistaken. The woman was crazy. With an effort, Clay kept his voice even. “I wasn’t worried about you losing your way. What would you do if one of the horses went lame?” She couldn’t even harness them but depended on Miguel and the town’s livery to do that each day. If Clay were a betting man, he would have bet his last nickel that she had no idea how to even remove a rock from a hoof. How on earth could she contemplate a trip like that? Besides, horses were only one of the dangers.

“What would you do if you encountered a thief? How would you defend yourself?” He thought she’d learned enough to be wary of her new home, but believing she could go to San Antonio unaccompanied was as ridiculous as her declaration the first day she’d been here that she and Thea would walk to town.

Anger colored Sarah’s cheeks and her words. “I’m not helpless.” She spat the words at him, daring him to disagree.

He did. “You might be in those situations. This is not Philadelphia. We have dangers you’ve never encountered.”

Sarah’s eyes darkened again, and Clay sensed she was wavering. Perhaps she remembered his tales of hostile reptiles and marauding mammals, some of them the two-legged variety. “The school is important. You said so yourself. I have no choice, Clay. If I’m going to have a school, I need supplies.”

“Fine. We’ll go together, and we’ll take Thea with us. She’ll enjoy the ride.” Now who was crazy? Those were not the words he’d intended to speak, but somehow they’d come out of his mouth instead of the retort he’d planned. Look what he’d done. He had volunteered to spend a day he couldn’t afford away from the ranch. Worse, much worse, he’d be spending that day with the last two people on earth whose company he craved. These were the woman and child who disturbed his thoughts and his dreams. A prudent man would have run in the opposite direction. Clay Canfield, it appeared, was not as prudent as he thought.

Though her relief was palpable, Sarah shook her head. “I don’t want to—”

“Be a burden.” He finished the sentence. “I’ve heard that before, Sarah. You need to trust me on this. It would be more of a burden if you went alone, because I’d spend the day worrying about you.” That was the reason, the only reason, he’d volunteered to accompany them. It was not because he desired their company.

“Oh!” When Sarah’s expression reflected her surprise that someone would worry about her, Clay felt as if a hand were squeezing his heart. What had this woman endured that she no longer believed anyone cared about her? Hadn’t she realized that both Austin and he had been concerned as she’d traveled from Philadelphia, that each night they’d speculated where she was and what she had encountered? Austin’s worries might have ended, but Clay’s had not. He still spent far too much time thinking about this woman, trying to keep her and her sister safe and happy. When would it end? Clay had no idea.

“It’s settled,” he announced, his tone brooking no disagreement. “We’ll leave first thing tomorrow morning.”