Bushedwhacked Bride (23 page)
Gazing at Beatrice, Gabe swallowed hard. “Yeah, she’s
mighty pleasing, but I had no luck with her on Sunday.
Heard Miss Dumpling say she’s still grieving over her
dead fiancé.”
“And I say you’re giving up too easily,” Jessica ad
monished.
He glowered.
“Maybe she felt guilty when you first approached her. But she could have had second thoughts by now.”
“Ya think?” The worry in Gabe’s expression had
lightened somewhat as he continued to stare at the
young woman. Beatrice, seeming to sense his perusal,
glanced in his direction, then shyly glanced away. “I don’t know, ma’am. She still looks ‘bout as spooked as
a new colt.”
“You just need to be a little more subtle, Gabe,” Jessica
advised. “You probably caught her off guard on Sunday.
I’m sure she hadn’t even considered having a new beau.
Why not give it one more chance now that she’s had time
to think it over?”
Though his expression remained uncertain, Gabe nod
ded. “All right, ma’am. If you say so.”
He sauntered off, fetched a bowl of ice cream and took it over, solemnly offering it to Beatrice. Watching the girl greet Gabe with a shy smile, Jessica breathed a sigh of re
lief. Within moments, the two were seated together, quietly
talking.
“Ma’am?”
Jessica turned to see Dumpling standing in front of her.
Although the girl tried to put on a brave front, Jessica could see the disappointment in her lovely blue eyes.
“Well, hi, Dumpling, how are you doing?”
Dumpling twisted her pudgy fingers together. “Fine, I
reckon. Anyhow, ma’am, I just wanted to tell you I’d be
happy to help out tomorrow.”
“Great. You know the boys, and Bi—that is, Bobby—
will also be there.”
The girl sniffed and glanced away.
Jessica touched her arm. “Something wrong, dear? I’m a good listener, you know.”
Dumpling shuddered, appearing close to tears. “It
don’t make no never mind whether Bobby’s comin’ tomorrow or not. He don’t cotton to me.”
“What makes you say that?”
Dumpling glanced with longing at Billy, who was now
happily joking with Luke, Wes, Minerva, and Maybelle.
“I’ve tried to be friendly, but Bobby gave me the cold
shoulder.”
“Oh, men sometimes get all caught up on their pride.
I’m sure he likes you.”
Dumping shook her head and sniffed. “He don’t,
‘cause I’m a fat cow.”
Jessica was crestfallen. “Dumpling, no! How can you
say that about yourself? You’re lovely!”
Dumpling fell silent, her lower lip trembling.
“You know, Bobby has been talking about how won
derful your cooking is.”
Dumpling brightened a bit. “He has?”
“Indeed.” Jessica winked. “Why not bring a few sam
ples to the school tomorrow, around lunchtime?”
Dumpling’s features lit with new hope. “Oh, yes,
ma’am! I’ll bring biscuits, and stew, and chicken and
dumplings.”
“Now you’re talking.”
“Thank you, ma’am!”
Watching the girl waltz off with a smile on her face,
Jessica felt encouraged.
“Having fun with your matchmaking, sugar?”
Jessica turned to see Cole regarding her with cynical amusement. “Don’t mind admitting that I am.”
“So I guess we’re all coming in to town tomorrow to help fix up the school.”
“Guess so. You mean you’re willing, too?”
Cole gave a self-deprecating smile. “Jessie, after being
around these folks Sunday and tonight . . . Well, I’ll have
to admit it’s something good you’re doing.”
Jessica pressed a hand to her breast in mock amazement. “Mr. Lively! Such humility coming from you!”
He chuckled. “Not that I completely approve. The risk still bothers me.”
Jessica glanced away guiltily. If Cole only knew what
she’d learned tonight, he’d call off this charade—now
“But it’s still a worthwhile thing to do,” he added.
“Thanks, Cole.” She eyed him quizzically. “What put
you in such a reflective mood?”
“Oh, talking with the men, learning more about the
harsh conditions at the mines. Several miners have even
offered to take me on a tour, show me just how bad things
are.”
“My heaven, is that allowed?”
“It’ll be our secret, on Sunday afternoon. Believe me, the consortium will never get wind of it.”
“But what persuaded the men to take you there?”
“They know I’m concerned, that I want to help. Hell,
Ma’s a mine widow just like so many others in the
church. What other incentive do they need?”
She nodded. “You’re right, of course. And it’s good of
you to take an interest.”
A sheepish look drifted over Cole’s features. “I’ve also
promised a generous contribution to the Mine Widows
and Orphans Fund—and to the church.”
Jessica laughed. “Why, Mr. Lively, I
am
reforming
you.”
Cole leaned close, eyes gleaming wickedly. “Not a chance, woman. When it comes to you, my mind is always in the devil’s territory.”
Chapter Twenty
The next morning when Cole and Jessica arrived at the
schoolhouse, a contingent of help greeted them on the
sagging front steps. As Jessica approached the building,
with Cole close behind carrying an armload of tools, Mrs.
Clutter and Mrs. Pritchett stood awaiting them with
cleaning supplies at their feet and children in tow. Both families were pitifully attired, their garments filthy and
tattered.
“Good morning, ma’am,” greeted Mrs. Pritchett, a
frail, dark-haired woman of about thirty. She gestured
about her. “Chila and me, and the kids, we’ve come to
help with the school.”
“How kind of you,” Jessica replied graciously. She turned to Mrs. Clutter, who was slightly plumper, with
stringy brown hair and a wary expression on her sallow
face. “Thank you, too, Mrs. Clutter.”
The woman nodded stiffly, appearing embarrassed.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“We can certainly use the help, can’t we, Mr. Lively?”
“Yes, indeed,” Cole agreed.
Jessica smiled at the children, all of whom appeared
pale, undernourished, and rather dejected. “And who
have we here?”
Mrs. Pritchett gestured in turn at boys who appeared to
be about eleven and ten. “My boys, Abe and Ben. Abe’s
the eldest—he’s thirteen, and Ben is twelve.”
Jessica had to struggle not to gasp aloud as she noted how underdeveloped these children were for their ages.
She shuddered to think of the deprivations they must
endure.
“Pleased to meet you, boys,” she said.
Both boys tipped their straw hats and murmured in uni
son, “Ma’am.”
“And these four is mine,” Chila Clutter added awk
wardly. “Hazel is nine, Caleb eight, Polly seven, and
Rachel six.”
Jessica smiled at the four little stairsteps who, again,
appeared much too small and sad for their ages.
“It’s wonderful to have all of you. Shall we go in?”
Inside the dusty building, the group went to work,
opening windows, sweeping, cleaning. With the boys as
helpers, Cole began repairing the ramshackle desks; the
mothers and daughters scrubbed scarred floorboards,
while Jessica tried to organize and rearrange the pitiful
assortment of books that served for the school’s library.
Afterward, she walked over to join the two mothers, who were on their knees scouring a corner, while their daughters worked nearby. “May I help you?”
“No, ma’am,” answered Chila Clutter. “Rose and me
have this in hand. You’re the teacher, and have better
things to do with your hands than scrubbing.”
Jessica cleared her throat. “I can’t help but notice how
small your children are.”
Both women stopped their labors to regard her suspi
ciously.
“I don’t mean this to criticize,” Jessica quickly added.” I realize how difficult it must be for you, widow ladies on your own, trying to keep growing children fed.”
“We make out best we can,” Rose replied tightly.
“But I want to help,” Jessica remarked. “I mean, I’d
like to donate my salary to your two families.”
Jessica was stunned by the widows’ response. Both women scrambled to their feet to regard her angrily.
“We don’t need your charity, ma’am,” declared Rose, pride burning in her pale eyes.
“Yeah, and we’ll be on our way,” added Chila.
And before Jessica’s horrified eyes, and heedless of
her protests, the two women grabbed their children and
left.
Jessica followed the group to the door. “Please, I meant
no offense. You don’t have to leave.”
Without a backward glance, both women dragged
their children down the steps. Only a couple of the chil
dren dared to glance back, features stark with sadness
and disappointment.
“What have you done now?”
Jessica turned to see Cole regarding her in consterna
tion. She threw up her hands. “I don’t know. Guess I in
sulted them. I tried to give them some money.”
Cole whistled. “Where are you from, woman? Don’t
you know people here have their pride? Joshua Hicks told
me those two won’t even accept assistance from the Mine Widows and Orphans Fund.”
“Well, you might have told me, Cole.”
He waved a hand in exasperation. “Maybe I figured you’d have more common sense than that. Most folks
around here figure they have to work for what they get.”
She lowered her voice and balled her hands on her
hips. “Except for certain scoundrels who feel they’re entitled to rob stages and gold shipments for a living.”
He grinned. “That’s work, too, sugar.”
“Oh, you’re impossible.” Growing increasingly agi
tated, she flung several stray tendrils of hair from her
forehead. “Look, hold down the fort for a minute. I’m going to see if I can’t catch them and apologize.”
“Sure.” Cole strode back to the desk he’d been repairing.
Jessica rushed outside, relieved to see that the women’s
wagon still hadn’t pulled away—although everyone had boarded and Rose appeared ready to snap the reins attached to the scraggly-looking mule.
She rushed up. “Wait! Please, won’t you wait a mo
ment?”
Her expression tight, Rose Pritchett glanced down at
Jessica. “What is it, ma’am? We need to be on our way.”
“But won’t you stay awhile? I really do need your
help.”
Rose glanced at Chila; both women appeared to be wavering. Then Caleb called out from the bed of the wagon,
“Please, Mama, can’t we help Teacher? We was having
fun.”
Rose gave Jessica a hard look. “We won’t tolerate no
more talk of charity. We take care of our own.”
Jessica held up a hand. “I understand entirely. In fact,
I really put my foot in my mouth—I mean, I misspoke.
What I really meant to say was that I need to hire you
both.”
“Hire us?” Chila repeated, glowering suspiciously.
“That’s right. You see, Mayor Polk has warned me that
I may have as many as two dozen students, and I can’t
possibly handle all of them by myself, especially since
they’ll be all different ages. I’ll need to hire at least two
teacher’s aides.”
The two women exchanged a perplexed look, then low
ered their heads in shame.
“Please, what is the problem?” Jessica protested. “If
I’ve insulted you again, I didn’t mean to.”
At last Chila’s gaze, filled with pride, met Jessica’s. “Ma’am, we ain’t educated,” she admitted miserably.
“You’re educated in ways that
count
,” Jessica hastily
reassured the women. “You can both still help out, can’t you?
You can quiet rowdy children, wipe runny noses, super
vise recess. Plus, you can
learn.
You’re both older, more
mature. As you learn to read and write, you can teach the
youngest ones. And think of how you’ll eventually be
able to tutor your own children with their homework.”
The two women consulted each other with wary
glances.
“Of course, under these circumstances, I’d have to pay you,” Jessica rushed on. “I mean, I know you’re two very smart women, and you’re not going to let anyone exploit
you without compensation, are you?”
Though Jessica suspected neither woman fully understood the words “exploit” or “compensation,” her impli
cation sank in. “No, ma’am, we ain’t workin’ without
wages,” agreed Chila with a firm bob of her chin.
“Then do we have a deal?” Jessica asked hopefully.
Again the two consulted each other, then Rose nodded.
“Yes, ma’am, you got yourself some hired help.”
***
High spirits prevailed as the families returned. Jessica
was intensely grateful that she’d managed to smooth
things over.
And, to her delight, more members of the community soon arrived. Merchant Allgood delivered half a dozen
panes of window glass he was donating to the school, and
helped Cole putty them in to replace the broken panes.
Mrs. Polk brought by a box of her own children’s books
that she was donating.
At mid-morning, Ma arrived with the rest of the boys, everyone carrying in tools and baskets of food. Mrs. Allgood and another elderly widow came bearing sewing baskets and bolts of gingham they were donating for curtains. Ma settled down with the widows, helping them measure, cut, and sew.
The Holler and Hicks families appeared soon after
ward, the women bearing more covered dishes and pies,
the men with donated roofing supplies. Jessica had to s
mile as she once again watched the boys and girls flirt:
Maybelle handed Wes nails as he stood on a ladder re
pairing a sagging wall plank; Minerva chatted with Luke as he solemnly sawed a piece of lumber; Gabe and Beat
rice quietly conversed as they swept cobwebs from the corners. Yet Billy, repairing furniture, was still resisting
Dumpling’s attentions as she tried to tempt him with a
cup of iced tea or a damp rag to wipe his sweaty brow.
Watching the girl trudge off wearing a downcast ex
pression, Jessica approached Billy; he had a rickety
bench upended on the teacher’s desk and was trying to re
inforce its sides with nails.
Continuing to hammer, he grinned at her. “Well,
howdy, Miss Jessica, are we doing you proud?”
“Proud?” she repeated reproachfully. “I don’t think so.”
Billy set down the hammer, wrapped an arm around Jes
sica’s shoulders, and flashed her a charming grin. “What’s
wrong, sugar? Ain’t we giving you enough attention?”
“Aren’t,
Billy.’’
“Aren’t
we giving you enough attention?”
She pulled away, casting him a scolding look. Glancing
about to make sure no one was close enough to hear her
using his real name, she scolded, “Billy, I’ll have you know
I’m a grown woman and I don’t stand around pouting like
a schoolgirl, expecting all of you men to fawn at my feet.
However, I do think I’d pout if you treated me as rudely
and shabbily as you’ve just treated Miss Dumpling.”
Billy blanched. He glanced at Dumpling, who was sit
ting by herself in a corner. “Oh.”
“Oh? Is that all you have to say for yourself?”
His guilty gaze met hers. “What do you expect me to
say?”
“Well, for one thing, why were you so rude? I know
you must like her.”
Billy stared at the scuffed toe of his boot. “Yeah, I do.”
“Then why are you giving her the cold shoulder?”
Billy glanced up, tension and pride clenching his fea
tures. “Well, the boys have been joshing me about having
a hippopotamus for a sweetheart.”
“Oh, how crude of them!” Jessica declared, indignant.
“I’ll give them a piece of my mind.”
“Yeah. You do.” He stared at his toe again.
“And what about you?”
He didn’t glance up. “What about me?”
She tapped his chest with her index finger. “Are you going to act like a baby who does what his brothers tell
him to, or a man who goes after what he wants?”
Billy glanced up, eyes blazing now. “I ain’t no baby.”
“
Well
?” she challenged.
Jessica flounced away, praying Billy would heed her scolding. Stealing a glance at him over her shoulder, she was relieved to see him staring at Dumpling again, his features a mixture of pride and longing. She wondered
what he was thinking . . .
Watching Jessica storm away in a flash of gingham
skirts, Billy Reklaw was left frowning over her lecture.
Hot damn—she was one feisty female. When he and his brothers had first captured Jessie, he’d been all but con
vinced he was in love with her, and he’d cheerfully joined
in the competition with Gabe, Luke, and Wes. Now he
wasn’t so sure.
His gaze drifted with longing to Dumpling. He’d never
fancied himself wanting a plump woman, but, Lordy, this
girl enticed him. She was a pretty one, with that curly blond hair he longed to sink his fingers into, those pert
dimples, that cute little nose and kissable mouth. And the
rest of her—a rounded, ample bottom to sink his hands
into, and breasts large enough to make a man sure he’d
died and gone to heaven. And she could cook, and laugh,
and what a smile! She made him hungry enough to take a
big bite out of her.