Montana Rose Read online

  “No. Scared to death. You know I’ve never taught before.”

  “Sure, but I also know you were always the best student. In fact, our last year of school, you spent most of the day helping the teacher teach.”

  “Oh, Wisteria.” Rose took a bite of the flavorful bread. “I wish I had paid more attention to her lesson plans and class scheduling. I have a vague idea of how it’s done, but to teach eight grades at one time runs shivers up my spine. Then throw in a couple unruly boys and whispering, giggly girls and . . .”

  “You’ll do just fine. Along with those shivers, a steel rod runs up your back. Once you make your mind up to something, you don’t let anything, or anyone, stand in your way. Believe me, you are more self-reliant and better educated than the former teacher, Mr. Macon. He was a monster and a bully. He taught through intimidation.”

  “Well, I won’t be a bully or intimidate. If there’s a way to reach these students, I’ll find it. And Mr. Rivers will be the brother he should be and see that Tory attends school.”

  “I have no doubt of that. Jarrett threatened Mr. Macon that if he ever took his rod to Timmy again, he’d come to school and break it over his head. The children were scared to death of him.”

  They both reached for the last slice of bread.

  Grinning, Rose said, “Take it. But you do know the person taking the last piece has to replenish it.”

  “Ha! It’s your recipe, Rose Bush. You’re the bread maker. Mmmm, I remember your Christmas breads. Makes my mouth water. Just think, you’ll be here for Christmas.” Wisteria paused, giving her sister a hard look. “You will be here for Christmas, won’t you, Rose? You aren’t planning on leaving?”

  “Not planning, no. But if . . .”

  “No! There will be no ‘but if’s’. I just got you here and you owe it to me, to say nothing of the school board, to stay the full year. And more, if I have my way.” Wisteria’s uncharacteristic outburst filled the room.

  Busying herself, not wanting to look Wisteria in the eye, Rose crossed over to the range. She poured more water from the merrily hissing teakettle into the chunky, brown teapot and set it down on the table to steep.

  “It’s getting warm in here,” she said. “I think I’ll open the door to the schoolroom and let some of this heat in there. I’ll be working at that desk most of the day and . . .”

  “Stop it, Rose. Your avoidance isn’t going to work. Are you or are you not planning on staying the year at least?”

  Rose sat down with a graceless thump. “Yes, I’m planning on staying the year, unless, oh, Wisteria, you know my heart’s in ranching. The year I spent on my own homestead is one of my happiest memories. I’ve made several bad choices in my life, but buying that homestead wasn’t one of them. I’m a rancher through and through.” She scooted her chair closer to the table, wrapping her hands around the empty teacup, and said dreamily, “Waking up in the morning, smelling the fresh air, knowing that my day would be full. Knowing there were animals waiting, depending on me. My cow to be milked, chickens to be fed, eggs to gather, stalls to be cleaned . . . Yes, hard to believe, but I even didn’t mind shoveling manure. Of course, I didn’t enjoy the stink, or the cow smell in my hair from resting my head on the cow’s rump while I milked. Ugh! The odor stayed in my nostrils all day.”

  “Rose, stop. You can’t possibly expect me to believe you enjoyed . . .? No, that’s not you. Not the Rose that loves pretty dresses and silly, impractical hats. Not the Rose that had every boy in school falling at her feet. The Rose that could have had her pick of men and yet chose, oh, I’m sorry”—Wisteria’s hand flew to her mouth—“I shouldn’t have said that.”

  “Yes, you should have. My marriage was a mistake. I fell for his fancy talk. His being so much older than me made him seem steady, dependable, someone I could rely on. How foolish I was. But one good thing came of that marriage, selling the house left me enough money to pay down on the homestead. Just not enough money to tide me through bad times,” she said musingly. “I’ll know better next time. And, Wisteria, there will be a next time. I’ll wake up with the same excitement, anxious to start the long day of farming and ranching. Anxious to saddle my horse and check on my small herd. Next time, I’ll have enough money to ride out anything nature throws my way. And I’ll do it myself. I know you’re happy with Ben, he’s the love of your life. But I don’t need or want a man. All he’d do is force his ideas on me and stop me from doing anything he didn’t feel was woman’s work. No, I’ll stay, but only long enough to save what I need. I’ll stay, enjoy you, Ben, and little Robin. I’ll be one of the best teachers Wise River ever had.” Rose lowered her voice and her eyes. “But I’ll not stay one minute longer.”

  Chapter 6

  Rose rubbed at her sore neck, arched her stiff back, and again reviewed her copious notes. Grades kindergarten through eighth. In the school she had attended, one boy was older than the teacher. She had to smile at the remembered image of him towering over the diminutive Miss Prentis, his stumbling over words from the primary reader. Short in stature, no one got the best of the formidable teacher. Miss Alice Prentis could give you a look that would freeze your blood. Once was all it took, and big or small, everyone towed the line and learned.

  Rose stared again at the former roll call book. She wished, not for the first time, the man had put the grade and age beside each child’s name.

  Twenty-five students. Too few books. She would have to approach the school board about that. In the meantime, she’d just have to figure her own way. And she would. Her earlier trepidation was vanishing, and darned if it wasn’t being replaced with excitement. Who would have thought it? Rose curved her lips into a smile. She would conquer this mountain. And while conquering it, she would step day-by-day closer to her goal. Closer to having her own place, her own ranch.

  Rose glanced at the pocket watch resting on her desk. She loved this little timepiece. A woman, down on her luck, had sold the watch to the mercantile in the town where Rose and her husband had lived. It had been pushed aside in the dusty case, as if waiting for her. Without batting an eye, she’d taken her grocery money and bought the watch. That act was fuel for one of her husband’s more vituperative tongue-lashings. But it had been worth his every scathing word.

  The watch was about the length of her thumb and could easily fit in the palm of her hand. She picked it up and pressed down on the round top of the winding stem, the case popped open, revealing Roman numeral numbers and the delicate hands keeping accurate time. Rose held the watch to her ear and smiled at the tic-tic of the watch’s heart—a sound soothing and reassuring. The etchings of leaves and flowers on the outside cover nestled the barely visible initials, D.S. She’d given many thoughts to who this D.S. might be. She thumbed open the back and inner cover that protected the workings of the clock. There, engraved at the bottom of the cover, was an American flag and the timepiece’s serial number. Manufactured in Elgin, Illinois. The owner had sold it for far less than it was worth, and she benefited from that poor sale. Even though it cost more than she should have parted with, she’d never regretted the purchase.

  The rumbling of her empty stomach reminded her she’d had nothing but bread and tea for supper and bread and tea for breakfast.

  She’d have to do some shopping but, bless Wisteria, the cupboards held enough to tide her over until she got her feet under her. And getting her feet in under her meant doing the necessary planning for school scheduled to start in two days.

  With visions of a steaming bowl of the savory stew Wisteria had brought over, Rose made it as far as the entrance to her living quarters when several demanding pounds came on the outside door.

  She crossed the room through the entry vestibule and opened the door, only to be confronted by three sober and unsmiling faces, two women and a man. The women were garbed in dresses of severe black bombazine more suitable for mourning than a
social call. Equally mournful hats sat on tightly coiled hair, not one strand on either head dared to venture out of place. Their lips were tightly pursed lines. The lone man was cut from the same cloth of beady-eyed disapproval. All three wore a countenance that said the world was a bitter, unhappy place, and they were missionaries to see it stayed that way.

  “Good morning, well”—Rose gave a nervous chuckle— “afternoon, I should say. May I help you?”

  “You are Rose Bush?” The words snapped from the man’s mouth.

  “I am.”

  “Recently hired to bring education to the children of Wise River?”

  “Yes.” Rose frowned. Unconsciously, her back stiffened and up came her chin. Her eyes darkened as she met their censoring ones. She made no attempt to soften the flash of immediate dislike and resentment.

  “We”—and he gestured to the two women—“constitute the Wise River School Board. We are here to instruct you on our rules and regulations as well as our clear expectations.”

  Before Rose could open her mouth, they swept past and marched through the small vestibule and into the classroom. Was it her imagination or had the sun taken refuge behind a cloud, deserting the previous sunny windows and leaving the panes bleak and cold?

  “Sc-School board?” she stammered, trying to banish the apprehensive chill down her spine.

  “Do you have a speech impediment, Miss Bush? If that is the case, you will be most unsuitable to educate our children.”

  “No.” Rose took a deep breath, chiding herself for letting her uneasiness show. “I assure you, my speech is quite adequate. I suspect as adequate as yours, sir.” She had to bite back the grin threatening to slip out at the man’s horrified look. Rose, don’t you dare let the imp inside you get the upper hand and cause you to lose this job before it’s even begun. Remember the money and the homestead it will buy.

  “My diction is not up for discussion, Miss Bush.”

  “Of course not. I apologize for my choice of words. Please, seat yourselves.” She realized belatedly that the only seats in the room were for children. Momentarily, the ridiculous picture of the stiff, unbending people in front of her, squeezing behind a small desk threatened another giggle. What was the matter with her?

  “Let me get chairs from my quarters. Please excuse me.”

  Rose made a hasty retreat, and once inside the sanctuary of her room, expelled her held breath. “Chairs,” she muttered to herself. “Three chairs.”

  One-by-one, she carried the chairs into the classroom. No one offered to assist her. Clearly, she was the minion here, the recipient of suspicious scrutiny. Her role was to do their bidding.

  “May I offer you a cup of tea?” Rose asked after the trio had settled themselves.

  With stiff, erect carriages, the two women sat on the edge of their chairs, their posture perfect, spines at least three inches from the chair back. The third chair was left empty as the man had commandeered the one behind the teacher’s desk and sat there with assumed ownership.

  “This is not a social call, Miss Bush.” He was obviously the spokesman for the formidable group.

  “No, of course not,” Rose said quietly, and at the wave of his hand, took the remaining chair.

  As if on cue, the two women re-positioned their chairs to face Rose. Like a recalcitrant child, she’d been maneuvered into the undesirable position of three against one.

  “I will make introductions. The lady on the left is Mrs. Chinney. Seated next to her is Mrs. Backley. And I am Mr. Whimpstutter.” At each name, Rose received a curt nod from the recipient.

  They fit their names. The unflattering comparisons hurled themselves through her mind. Mrs. Chinney had no chin. Her face seemed to end under thin lips. Apparently on the day the Good Lord was handing out chins, Mrs. Chinney was absent.

  Mrs. Backley certainly had one, a quite large one in fact. Her ample backside stuck out behind her like an overstuffed bustle. And poor Mr. Whimpstutter was indeed a wimp of a man. It took no trick of the imagination to know he would use his position of authority to overshadow his skinny, short frame. He was a scrawny scarecrow with a pointed nose and jutting black eyebrows. His childhood must have been miserable, full of hateful teasing and bullying.

  Rose blinked twice, hoping these dangerous thoughts didn’t show on her face.

  “I’m pleased to make your acquaintance.” What a lie. She was anything but pleased and was sure she would be less so as the ‘instructions’ proceeded.

  Mr. Whimpstutter reached inside his vest pocket and withdrew a folded sheaf of papers. Meticulously smoothing them flat on the desk, he adjusted his glasses and licked his fish puckered lips.

  “Article Of Conduct,” he read in a sonorous voice.

  “You will not marry during the term of your contract. Keeping company with men is frowned upon and if believed unseemly, your position will be terminated.

  “Your business in stores will be conducted with expediency and loitering or gossiping will not be condoned.

  “Should you decide to do any traveling out of town, you must first obtain permission from the president of the board.”

  Mr. Whimpstutter cleared his throat. “That would be me, Miss Bush.”

  “Your dresses will be of subdued colors and will be the length of the top of your shoes. You will”—and a red blush crept up his sunken cheeks—“wear two petticoats at all times.

  “Riding in a carriage with a man not related to you is forbidden.”

  “I believe we can make an exception here for Dr. McCabe. However it would be preferable that his wife be present.”

  “Quite,” Mrs. Backley interjected.

  “Indeed,” Mrs. Chinney said.

  With a satisfied nod, he continued. “You must be in your living quarters during the evening hours unless you are attending a school or church function.

  “You are expected to keep the classroom clean and ready for inspection at all times. Lamps are to be filled and chimneys cleaned daily. Fresh water is to be carried in by you and the two buckets filled daily. It is your responsibility to see that there is sufficient wood stacked for each day’s use.

  “Men teachers may court, taking only one evening a week to do so. They may also take one evening a week to attend church services.”

  “This, of course, does not apply to you, Miss Rose.”

  Rose found herself speechless, relieved that no response was expected.

  “You will be frugal with your pay, setting aside savings for your aging years. Society will not want you as a burden.

  “After your eight to ten hours in the classroom, you will spend the remaining evening grading papers, preparing for the next day’s classes, reading your Bible, or suitable, approved books of good works.

  “Your performance will be reviewed during weekly inspections. After a time period of at least five years, and if your performance has been acceptable, a raise of fifteen cents per week will be given. The school board will vote to determine if you are worthy of this increase.”

  “Do you have any questions, Miss Bush?” Not waiting for an answer, he shuffled his papers and said, “Good, let us continue. These are a few of the most pertinent rules of conduct for your students. You will be expected to adhere strictly to them.”

  “Talking among students and in the classroom is forbidden unless absolutely necessary. Remember, children are to be seen, not heard. Disruption to classmates is also forbidden and infraction will result in punishment handed out by the teacher. Obedience and acceptance of punishment is expected.

  “Fighting, name-calling, rude noises, or spitting, is not tolerated. The Golden Rule will be practiced at all times.

  “No fidgeting, whining, or crying is permitted. Children will sit upright on benches or behind their desks. There will be no slouching.

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sp; “Hats or caps will be removed upon entering the classroom.

  “The teacher will inspect each child for cleanliness. Attention will be given to clothing, ears, necks, and in general a clean, pleasant-smelling body. This will be done each day prior to the start of class.

  “Clothing for both boys and girls will cover the extremities completely. No young lady will show a bare ankle.”

  “Now, we will go over the punishments.”

  “Punishments?” Rose asked weakly.

  Mr. Whimpstutters eyebrows rose at her daring interruption.

  “Punishments,” he reiterated in a severe tone.

  “Spare the rod and spoil the child,” Mrs. Chinney said.

  Three heads nodded emphatically.

  “We will continue,” Mr. Whimpstutter said.

  “The rod will be used with firmness and often.”

  “If a student is tardy, he or she will remain after school for one hour.”

  “This is a right-handed world. A child favoring their left hand will receive one whack with the rod.”

  “Should a child speak without being prior spoken to by the teacher, or if they talk in class, they will receive 1 whack with the rod.

  “Unruly behavior will not be tolerated. Should this behavior occur, the guilty party, or parties, will receive six whacks each with the rod.

  “Chewing or spitting tobacco is forbidden. It is the devil’s weed. This will result in eight whacks with the rod.

  “Profanity or immoral language will never be tolerated and will result in immediate suspension from the school. This will be followed by a meeting with the child’s parents.

  “ATTENDING WISE RIVER SCHOOL IS A PRIVILEGE. UNACCEPTABLE, ILL-MANNERED CHILDREN WILL NOT BE GRANTED ENTRANCE TO THE CLASSROOM.” His voice boomed out the final words.