Cecilia And The Stranger

She flew out of her chair and bounded up the stairs, leaving Cecilia still sitting in a stupor. How on earth was she going to manage to get Buck to fall in love with Dolly? She chewed her lip in deep thought. If she didn’t manage to succeed, she wondered, would Dolly exact some kind of revenge?

She would have to get busy—both on Buck and on Pendergast. Because if she didn’t bring Buck around, she might well end up on the ranch anyway. And then she’d never be able to oust the suspicious schoolteacher from his job!

* * *

Ten-year-old Beatrice Beasley sat on the topmost schoolhouse stair, waiting for her teacher. Two nut brown braids fell over her yellow checked pinafore, neat as you please. Generous freckles dotted her face and hands, made darker by a summer exposed to the sun. Nevertheless, she held her hands primly in her lap atop her schoolbook. Her big brown eyes, magnified by round spectacles, were focused adoringly on Mr. Pendergast, who was just shutting the building for the day.

At her feet was her dog, Mr. Wiggles, an old yellow hound that was treated by the entire town as if he was a queen’s precious lapdog. The faithful animal roamed Annsboro all day until it was time to fetch his mistress home from school. Though the dog was sometimes known to be troublesome, Lysander Beasley, who because of his social status was always fearful his daughter was at risk of abduction, wouldn’t allow a word to be spoken against the animal.

Catching sight of Bea and her hound, Jake let out an exasperated sigh. The child tormented him. Just seeing her bespectacled little face made him go clammy with fear. Of all the children in school, Lysander Beasley’s daughter was the smartest. Smarter than her teacher, which gave Jake nightmares. Sometimes he imagined that even Mr. Wiggles could see right through his ruse.

The trouble was, he’d only finished seven years of schooling himself. When his father had had the ranch, Jake couldn’t be spared once he was grown enough to work. Then, when his family had lost their farm due to Otis Darby’s greed, he’d had to work even harder trying to do enough odd jobs to keep him and his mother going.

Burnet Dobbs had saved their lives by offering him the deputy job. It didn’t offer much as far as pay went, but it gave him a sense that he was working for right, for justice. Sending Otis Darby up the river had been one of the high points of his life, like vindicating his father’s death. But that had been before justice had backfired on him.

The upshot was that he hadn’t ever expected to step inside a school again, except maybe for a town meeting. Now he was forced to dredge up memories of lessons he’d learned nearly twenty years ago. The school had few books, just enough math primers to go around. Jake spent a lot of the day on spelling, because the school did boast a new dictionary. Besides, he’d always been a good speller.

Saturday, when Jake had first arrived, Beasley had touted some newly bought readers, but Jake hadn’t been paying attention, and now he didn’t see them. For lack of any other inspiration, he’d brought out one of Pendergast’s books, Dancehall Gunfight, and read it aloud today. Perhaps it wasn’t great literature, but the children’s faces had been rapt as he’d read the story of Two-step Pete, desperado turned federal marshal, and Willa the dance hall girl. Some of the girls had even cried at the point when Willa thought Two-step Pete had been fatally wounded.

Bea Beasley had cried. And now, as she looked at him as lovingly as Willa had gazed at Pete, Jake felt a shiver go down his spine. If the kid used her noggin, she’d have no trouble figuring out he was an impostor. All she had to do was tell her daddy that the new schoolteacher wasn’t up to snuff—and just like that, he’d be out of a job. Maybe he should be thankful for her schoolgirl crush, he reasoned. Better she see him as a hero than a deputy turned ranch hand doing a poor imitation of a teacher.

He smiled at Bea, put his hat on his head and hurried down the stairs. Bea fell into step beside him with Mr. Wiggles right at her heels.

“Are you going to read us more about Pete and Willa tomorrow, Mr. Pendergast?”

“I suppose so,” he said. “Do you like that story?”

“Oh, yes! I’m going to ask my father if I can grow up to be a dance hall girl, just like Willa.”

“Don’t do that!” he said too hastily. Imagining what Lysander Beasley would think of that book put him in a panic. Mr. Wiggles growled and Jake stared at Bea’s surprised face. “Uh, I mean...stories lose their magic when you tell other people about them.”

Bea looked shocked. “They do?”

“Absolutely.” Jake winced at how easily the silly lie had jumped to his lips. Nevertheless, he breathed easier when he saw she was falling for the line. “You have to keep them to yourself.” Lord, he prayed that would make the pesky kid keep her lip buttoned!

“Oh.” Bea appeared worried. Probably thinking about all the stories she’d demystified through the years, Jake guessed.

Just then, he caught sight of Cecilia and Buck across the street, in front of the defunct blacksmith’s shop. Cecilia had the ranch hand practically pinned against the storefront and appeared to be working him over about something or other. Jake felt his spine stiffen at the sight of the two of them together. Undoubtedly, it meant more trouble brewing.

Didn’t Buck ever go home?

Without thinking, Jake veered so that he was walking straight toward the blacksmith shop. Bea and her dog did the same. He just couldn’t shake that kid.

* * *

“Aw, Cecilia, why?” Buck’s expression was petulant.

“Because, Dolly’s one of the best cooks in town. Why, Mr. Walters pays to eat there!”

“I know, but...but isn’t it more fun to walk around and talk on the street?”

Cecilia put her hands on her hips, took one step forward and glared at him crossly. “I’ll thank you to show the decency to at least pretend to care about my reputation.”

“What reputation?”

“Precisely,” Cecilia snapped. Trying to convince Buck to visit her at Dolly’s was harder than she’d thought it would be. Even the promise of better chow wasn’t bringing him around. “I won’t have a reputation left if you continue to chase me around the great outdoors like you do. So you can either come for a nice sit-down dinner at Dolly’s or just leave me alone entirely.”

He took on a kicked-puppy appearance, leaned against the blacksmith’s wall and stubbed his toe in the dirt. “But Dolly’s so—”

“It’s no wonder you’re intimidated by her,” Cecilia broke in. “I’ve always thought she was the most beautiful woman in the county.”

“Dolly?” Buck asked, astonished.

“And the funniest.” As if to demonstrate, Cecilia looked at the empty September sky and chuckled merrily.

“What is it?”

Cecilia shook her head. “Oh, I was just thinking of this story Dolly told me the other day.” She put a hand to her mouth. “But I forgot. You were in it.”

“Dolly was talking about me?” He cocked his head first in surprise, then in wonder.

“She talks about you all the time.” This, at least, was the horrible truth. Now that the matter was out in the open, Dolly used every free moment to drag details about Buck out of Cecilia.

“Really?” Buck rubbed his chin thoughtfully and glanced around, as if Dolly was going to pop around the corner of the building any second now.