Wicked Wyoming Nights (12 page)

Cord’s eyes seemed to laugh. “Content yourself with keeping Otis from cutting off Sarah Jane’s pigtails before the end of the summer.”

“Do you think he would?”

“Certainly. Think of what a trophy that would make.”

“You’re teasing me again,” she said, feeling unaccountably shy. “I know I’ve got a lot to learn, but they are good children and they work so hard.”

“Are you enjoying it?”

“Yes, and no,” she confessed after a pause. “I love to see their faces when they learn something they didn’t know before and are so proud of themselves, but it’s an awful lot of work. I hardly have enough time to get everything done for the next day. And if all the students came who should, I never would catch up.”

“Those missing students really disturb you, don’t they?”

“Of course. Now that we’re a state, things are going to change quickly, and they’ll have to be properly educated or spend the rest of their lives regretting it.”

“Don’t let them wear you down,” he said, moving toward his horse. “After all, you’re doing them a favor.” Eliza walked with him.

“I’m being paid,” she said proudly. “Didn’t you know?”

“No, but if you’re paid as much as a cowhand, I’d be surprised.”

“I’m paid thirty-five dollars a month.”

“Do you remember those two boys who stopped you at the creek, the ones who have trouble getting out of their own way? I pay them forty-five dollars a month, twelve months a year, not just four or five months in the summer. Go back and demand a raise.” He swung easily into the saddle. “Now I have to get back to
my
charges before some of them disappear.”

Eliza was disappointed at his coolness and the briefness of his visit, but when she turned back to her students, she found several of them staring at her with open curiosity.

“Was that Mr. Stedman?” asked one girl, agog with excitement.

“Of course,” said one of her classmates. “Who else rides that big gelding and acts like he owns everything this side of Powder River?”

“My dad says he’s a terrible fierce customer, and shoots people for the fun of it.”

“That’s a lie. He just breaks their legs.”

“You should not gossip,” Eliza admonished, horrified at the conception the children had of Cord. “Now it’s time to go inside and begin your reading lesson.”

“Will you tell us about Mr. Stedman, ma’am?”

“I can’t. I hardly know him.” Eliza had intended her words to forestall any further questions, but once they were uttered she realized she had spoken the truth. She
didn’t
know much about Cord except that he was tremendously kind to her, and seemed to be around whenever she needed him.

One thing she did know: He had the power to affect her as no other person ever had before. One word, or a single glance, and her body and mind ceased to function in their usually dependable style. Yet even though his nearness might throw her into utter chaos, she was already looking forward to seeing him again.

A week later Eliza looked out over the bowed heads of her students and wondered for the tenth time where she was going to find enough books for them. She had already used the last desk. The next student to come was going to have to stand.

The new students had started to arrive in a trickle, two the day after Cord’s visit, three more the next day, five the day after, and five the day after that. Now there was nowhere to put the desks and chairs even if they could be found.

A serious shortage of books forced Eliza to have the better students share with the slower students, and help them at the same time. All except Melissa. No one wanted her help. She had a sharp tongue, a condescending attitude safely encased in a leather hide no barb could puncture, and a determination to demonstrate to her fellow pupils just how superior she was. Eliza didn’t know what to say the day she announced she wanted to become a teacher—“just like you, Miss Smallwood”—but she put Melissa’s newfound dedication to use by assigning her to help the youngest students.

But something had to be done about the shortage of books and desks, or the students would soon disappear back into the wide open spaces from which they had so mysteriously emerged.

Chapter 9

“So I came to you, ma’am, because somebody has to do something about getting books for the children.” Eliza sat uneasily in the parlor of Jessica Burton, Melissa’s mother, and the wife of Sanford Burton, the town banker.

“And you thought I would know how to make people open their pockets?” she inquired with a vague hint of distaste.

“Melissa is so good with her studies and you are such a champion of education, I decided you would be the most logical person to ask. Since your husband is on the town council, he must know everybody.” Eliza hated to resort to flattery, but since it was for the school, she overcame her qualms. “Everyone knows you’re the leader of Buffalo society. If you decide something has to be done, people will support you.”

Mrs. Burton could not repress a smile of self-satisfaction, but she seemed less than gratified at this particular request. “I agree with you, of course, and shall try find a way to get the money, but this trouble between the cowmen will make it difficult. It’s hard to raise money unless the ranchers give it, and right now they’re not particularly anxious to help the children of the men they see as their enemies.”

“I wasn’t thinking of asking anyone to give the money,” Eliza said diffidently. “I was hoping we could raise it.”

“How?” Mrs. Burton’s manner was not encouraging.

“You’ve probably thought of several ways already,” Eliza said, not stinting the flattery, “but I thought we might have a social, a dance maybe, and charge something for everybody to attend. Maybe we could have the ladies fix dinner and charge the men to eat.”

“Really!” Mrs. Burton said disdainfully.

“The ladies could each fix a picnic basket, and the honor of dining with them could be auctioned off to the highest bidder. Of course their husbands would bid for them,” Eliza added hastily when Mrs. Burton’s aspect began to turn positively frigid, “but even if they only bid a dollar or fifty cents, we would get some money, and we’re desperate, Mrs. Burton. I don’t have books for half the children or desks for them to sit in. And the little ones can’t work standing up or with their books in their laps. I’m afraid if something isn’t done soon, they’ll lose their enthusiasm and go away again. And it’s so soon after the last ones came.”

“Yes. I’ve been told Mr. Stedman’s campaign was most successful.”

“What?” Eliza was so surprised, her question sounded more like a squawk.

“Didn’t you know?”

“How could I?”

“I assumed the children would have told you. It’s been the talk of Buffalo. Apparently he set himself the task of visiting every ranch and homestead in the county, and that in itself has raised his reputation considerably. There are people who wouldn’t mind if Cord Stedman didn’t return from one of those long rides. It must have taken great courage to ride up to some cabins knowing a rifle was aimed at his heart the whole time.”

Eliza wasn’t sure how she escaped from Mrs. Burton, but somehow she found herself outside. Even with the cool, early evening breeze lightly brushing her heated skin, she had to lean against a hitching post to steady her nerves and calm her wildly pounding heart.

Mrs. Burton must think her a complete fool. Maybe she felt so surprised because she was the only one who didn’t know why the children had come to school, but after the number of times he’d come to her rescue, she shouldn’t have been.

She was suddenly conscious of a great desire to speak to him, and for a moment she actually considered riding out to the Matador, but she reluctantly decided she would have to wait until chance brought them together again.

“Stand still and stop craning your neck,” Lucy ordered. “I never saw your like for looking in the mirror.” Lucy and Ella were helping Eliza into the blue dress with white lace she was to wear at Jessica Burton’s supper-and-dance social. The project had been announced with great fanfare, and Jessica had mobilized her influence to see that every woman turned out, husband on one arm and picnic basket on the other. She had done her best with the outlying families, but admitted her influence rarely extended beyond the town.

Ella had been more successful there, telling people she’d have Ed send them a bill for what they owed if they didn’t contribute something to the school fund. Since every farmer or rancher got paid at harvest or roundup and lived on credit in between, that threat had the effect of emptying the surrounding hills, and Mrs. Burton was able to bask in the belief that only she could have produced such a turnout.

The festivities were to begin at the schoolhouse, where the children would recite, read poems, give speeches, and take part in a spelling bee. Then, while the children went home to cold suppers, their parents would settle down to dinner—word had gone out that husbands were expected to bid on their wives’ picnic baskets—followed by a dance in the school-house yard. It promised to bring half the cowboys in off the range looking for a chance to square up with some farmer’s daughter. It was the biggest event to take place in Buffalo in years, and for one night at least, the feelings of mutual distrust were put aside.

“Don’t worry. There won’t be a female present tonight as beautiful as you,” Ella assured Eliza.

“I know I’m not beautiful” protested Eliza, free at last to inspect herself in the mirror. “I’m just trying to make sure I’m pretty.”

“Stuff,” Ella said with a snort. “There’s no use pretending you’re not beautiful anymore than there is pretending it’s not Cord Stedman you’re thinking of.” Eliza tried to demur, but neither woman would listen to a word.

“I’ve been around young gals most of my life, and I can read them like a book,” Lucy said with a huge smile. “You’ve been nutty on Mr. Stedman from the night he knocked down those men.”

“All week you’ve been acting like a girl about to come down with the ague,” observed Ella. “I never saw such carrying-on, blushing red one minute, milk white and tongue-tied the next, wanting to leave the room and dying to know who was at the door. If I didn’t know you better, I’d say you had made plans to meet him at the dance.”

“I do want to see him,” stammered Eliza, flustered, “but it’s not what you think. Truly, it isn’t,” she persisted when she saw skepticism on their faces. “I was never more astonished in my life when Mrs. Burton told me he was responsible for the children coming to school. Why should he do something like that?”

“Why should he care about building a schoolhouse?” Ella said, watching Eliza carefully.

“You did that,” Eliza said with a smile.

“Who do you think gave me the idea? It wasn’t Ed. Who else could sweet-talk me into spending my mornings chasing down mothers and convincing them to corral their menfolks into giving up their spare time?”

“Why? When? How?” Eliza stammered, completely overcome.

“He came by one morning chuck full of plans, but he had enough sense to know he wasn’t the one to push them through, and I let him flatter me into doing the job for him.” Ella laughed at the remembrance. “He sat himself down in my parlor, big handsome fella that he is, and I think he could have talked himself into half of the store if he’d tried. I don’t know how he’s managed to stay unmarried so long.”

“It’s not so hard if you never get close to a female who’s not wearing horns,” said Lucy.

“I know a dozen females willing to be carried off over his saddle the minute he cocks an eye. I had two in the store the other day just about fainting with the thought he might bid on their basket. If that man escapes this party alive, I’ll own myself surprised. You ought to let him buy your basket so you can bring him off safe.”

“My basket!” Eliza squeaked. “He wouldn’t. I mean, why should he? He probably won’t even be there” Eliza wouldn’t admit to anyone she had taken extra care with her basket in the hope Cord
might
be present and
might
make a bid for her company.

“I’ll bet you two new dresses he’ll be there,” said Ella.

“And
I’ll
you bet a new hat he’ll buy your basket,” added Lucy. “You did fix one, didn’t you?”

“Of course, but Uncle Ira is going to buy it. He said it would be bad for the saloon if I was seen to be favoring one man above another.”

“You’d be better served if he thought more of you and less of that saloon,” Ella remarked acidly. “Especially when you’re the one who made it into something besides a smelly pit.”

“You take my advice and tell your uncle to
stay
in the saloon,” said Lucy.

“It’s closing. Mrs. Burton told all the merchants it was their duty to support the schoolhouse.”

“Well, God bless a nanny goat! Ever since you came to Buffalo I never know what’s going to happen next,” Ella marveled. “Jessica must have threatened Sanford with the kitchen knife. That man loves a dollar better than he loves his wife!”

“You take yourself over to Mr. Stedman, Miss Eliza,” recommended Lucy, “and see if he doesn’t bid for you.”

“I can’t do that. It wouldn’t be proper.”

“Wouldn’t it be more proper for him to have supper with a sweet, beautiful gal who loves him than to get caught in the clutches of some hussy after his money?”