Frontier Engagement

“Yes, ma’am,” Scout said, though Levi merely snapped a nod.

“And I expect,” James added, “that Miss Fosgrave will hear no more wolves outside her window or find threats on the blackboard.”

“Yes, sir,” they chorused. James pointed to the door, and they shuffled out.

Rina shook her head. “You knew all along it wasn’t a wolf pack, didn’t you?”

“I suspected,” James said with a shrug. “But I thought it best to make sure. I’m sorry they frightened you, Rina.”

She sighed. “They terrified me. Nothing in my life prepared me to fight off vicious predators.”

He wrinkled his nose. “I don’t imagine too many people have that preparation. Beth, Ma and Catherine can handle a rifle if needed. I suppose we better teach you how to shoot, just in case.”

She raised her brows. “Just in case of what? Do you expect more wild beasts, real ones, to come calling?”

He laughed. “No. Once in a rare while, something wanders a little too close to the barn, but normally the wild animals give us a wide berth. They’ve learned humans can be dangerous.”

So had she. “Then I doubt I must carry a gun.”

“Maybe just a whip and chair for your wild students,” he joked.

Rina shook her head. Levi and Scout were going to be a handful, but she supposed she couldn’t blame them for resenting the school. They were both at an age where sitting around learning had to sound tedious and tiresome. She’d have to find ways to make the lessons relevant for them.

But for all her fine arguments, what did she know about opening a shop or understanding the Farmer’s Almanac?

Her concerns must have been written on her face, for James put a hand to her elbow as if to steady her. “You dealt with them brilliantly. You’re going to be a great teacher.”

She drew in a breath, feeling as if she drew in strength as well. “It will be a challenge. Thank you, for the encouragement and for routing my wolves.”

He dropped his hold and saluted her. “Any time, ma’am. James Wallin, wilderness scout, at your service.”

She smiled. “I hope this is as close to the wilderness as I ever come.”

He cocked his head. “It’s not so bad, you know. Come on. I’ll show you.”

He held out his hand, but Rina couldn’t make herself accept it. “Where do you intend to take me, Mr. Wallin?”

He grinned. “Into the wild.”

* * *

James thought she would refuse. Those clear eyes were crinkling at the corners from doubt. When her fingers slipped into his hand, he felt as if she’d entrusted him with her life.

He led her out onto the porch. Between the trees and the usual cloud cover, it wasn’t always easy to see the sky in Seattle. Now thousands of stars set the darkness to shimmering, bathing the clearing with silver. The light from the main house and Drew’s and Simon’s cabins offered a golden counterpoint.

She sighed as if she saw the beauty too. Down by the lake, frogs chirped a chorus and something splashed in the water. The breeze touched their cheeks with gentle fingers.

“There now,” James said. “Not so very scary.”

“Only because I have an escort,” she said. “And the cabins remind me that there are others just across the way. It was another matter when I was alone in my room.”

“And a strange room at that,” James commiserated. “Though, mind you, I think my sister’s designs are always a little strange. Those wide skirts and puffy sleeves.” He shivered as if the very idea was unthinkable.

She didn’t laugh. “Your sister is a dear. I just feel a trifle unsettled.”

“I know what you need,” James said. “Horses.”

He’d been trying for a smile or at least one of her scoldings that he was talking nonsense again. Instead, she straightened, squeezing his hand. “Oh, yes. That would be wonderful!”

Bemused, James escorted her to the barn.

The cool of the night had yet to penetrate the log structure. Earthy smells and familiar calls greeted them as James pulled open the door. He lit a lamp and led Rina toward the back of the barn, where Lance and Percy had their stalls.

The pair were standing, heads down and backs toward the aisle, their dark coats gleaming in the lamplight. Both turned to greet him, hanging their heads over the door of the stalls and nickering. James stroked each velvety nose in turn. Lance’s dark eyes were stern.

“Yes, I know it’s after bedtime,” he told the horse. “But you’d never been properly introduced to the lady. Rina Fosgrave, meet Sir Lancelot and Sir Percival.”

Rina spread her skirts and curtsied like a grand lady greeting the president. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, my fine sirs.”

Lance raised his head as if he were above such things. Percy craned his neck to demand her attention.

Rina reached out and touched his cheek. “Such a bold fellow. I bet you are your master’s favorite.”

James pressed his hands to Lance’s ears. “Shh! Not so loud. He’ll hear you.”

Lance shook away from his touch and turned in the stall to put his back to James.

“There,” James declared. “Now you’re done it. I’m going to have to bring apples for a month to make it up to him.”

Rina giggled. It was a soft, silvery sound, brightening the barn, lifting his heart. A man would do almost anything to hear that laugh again and know he’d been the cause of such joy.

“Why don’t we go for a drive?” he asked, reaching for the stall door.

She dropped her hand from Percy, and the horse nudged her shoulder to urge her to continue. Instead, she stepped away with a frown. “I would never take them out after dark for fear they would fall into a hole and break a leg.”

There was that. He never had been all that good about thinking through consequences. “Of course,” he said. “You just looked so happy with them.”

Her frown eased. “They are impressive fellows. And if we have an opportunity after school some time, I would be glad to go for a ride.” She raised her voice. “Especially with you, proud Sir Lancelot.”

Lance snorted as if he couldn’t care less, but James saw his ears tip back to listen.

They stayed a while longer, then James walked Rina back to the school. The farther the barn lay behind, the more he felt her stiffen. Was she still worried about teaching?

“You’ll be fine tomorrow,” he assured her as he opened the door for her and the light from the teacher’s quarters spilled across the boards of the porch.

Her stiff smile told him she didn’t believe him.

“I imagine every teacher is nervous her first day of school,” he tried again. He nudged her with his elbow. “Just think how nervous your students must be. They’ve never been in school before. At least you’ve been a student.”