Substitute Montana Bride: Bear Grass Springs, Book Thirteen Page 2

  From what she had seen, little was missing in her home, and it was comfortable and well equipped. After fingering a hair ribbon in a fetching shade of blue, she approached the man who now stood, his arms over his chest. “Hello, sir. I’m new in town.”

  He nodded, his eyes flashing with amusement. “Yes, you’re Miss Damon. Welcome to town.” He waited for her to say something else. When she remained quiet, he murmured, “You can’t expect us not to comment on the arrival of the new schoolmistress.”

  “Thank you,” she said, standing stiffly. “I have a list of things I need, Mr. … ?”

  “Tobias Sutton,” he said, with a quirk of his lips. He scanned the list. “I can deliver this to you tonight after work, if you’d like.”

  “Why?” she asked.

  “It’s something I do for all my patrons, if they come in with a large order.”

  “Adding a charge, I presume.” Her tone was critical.

  “No.” He slipped off his reading glasses and stared at her. “You seem a bit prickly when offered a kindness.”

  Stiffening, Alvira scowled at him. “It’s not prickly to ensure I won’t be overcharged for the service.”

  Flushing with agitation, Tobias took a deep breath. “I’ll ignore your implication that I’d ever overcharge a customer.” His eyes flashed now with warning, as he gazed at her. “You’d do well to learn our ways, Miss Damon, and to not jump to conclusions.”

  “If I’m fortunate, I’ll avoid you and will have no need to learn your ways.” Spinning on her heel, she marched from the store and stood on the boardwalk for a moment, as she collected her thoughts.

  Rather than returning home, she walked past the Odd Fellows Hall, the busy Watering Hole Saloon, and the bustling Sunflower Café to the bakery. She paused at the door to read the sign. Annabelle’s Sweet Shop.

  Pushing it open, Alvira inhaled the aromas wafting over her. The scent of freshly baked bread battled with cookies and cakes for supremacy. “Paradise,” she whispered. When she heard a chuckle, she blushed and met the gaze of a woman with hazel eyes and brown hair, her pink dress covered in an apron.

  “If you don’t say that upon entering the first time, you shouldn’t be one of our customers,” the younger woman said, with a welcoming smile.

  “Are you a MacKinnon?” Alvira blurted out. “Forgive me. I never meant to be so rude.”

  Laughing, the younger woman smiled at her. “There’s no need to apologize. I’m Jane Metcalf, and I’m related to them in a roundabout way.” Her smile widened. “You’ll discover the MacKinnons will find any excuse to claim someone they adore.”

  Clutching her hands together in front of her, Alvira murmured, “I need to discover who ‘the MacKinnon women’ are, so I might write them a thank-you note. They left me a basket of delicious food, much of which I suspect came from the bakery.”

  “Yes, Annabelle is a MacKinnon, and she insisted we send a basket to you, although we all contributed in our own way, even Jessamine.” Jane leaned forward and winked, as though imparting an important secret. “However, I’d urge you to avoid her cooking, if possible. Annabelle, Leticia, Philomena, Leena, and Fidelia are the good cooks.”

  Alvira took a deep breath, as the names floated around her. “I’m afraid I’ll never learn who everyone is.”

  “Of course you will,” Jane said. “Once you settle in and join us a few times at family dinner, you’ll wonder how you lived so long before meeting us.” She motioned to the display case. “Now, what might I tempt you with today?”

  Alvira took a deep breath to calm her roiling thoughts and the panic that fluttered at the thought of having supper with a horde of people she did not know. However, everyone in town seemed insistent on having her over for dinner. How could she graciously decline without seeming rude?

  Focusing on her task at hand, she pointed to cookies and a loaf of bread.

  “Good choice. Annabelle makes delicious ginger snaps. Tomorrow, Leena is here, and she’ll make treats from Norway.” Jane placed her cookies in a paper sack and the bread in Alvira’s basket.

  “I imagine they’re delicious,” Alvira said in a low voice, setting her coin on the counter.

  “They are,” Jane said. “I hope you become one of our regulars, Miss Damon.”

  Alvira jerked and stared at her incredulously.

  Jane smiled impishly, and, for a moment, Alvira had the sense she’d already met her. “You might not know who we are, but everyone in town knows who you are. Have fun settling in. Oh, and, if you have any troubles at the cabin, let me or my husband, Ben, know. We own it.”

  Alvira nodded and attempted a smile, as she stepped aside for another patron, her mind swimming. This town was unlike any place she’d ever lived. The towns in Vermont, Ohio, and Minnesota had all varied in size and had been welcoming—up to a point.

  Few had desired to have her over to dine, and even fewer had concerned themselves for her comfort once showing her the provided accommodations. These people seemed to truly want to be her friends. With that startling revelation, Alvira made her way outside and slowly walked back to her cabin, battling an insistent fear she would be a disappointment to the townsfolk.

  * * *

  Tobias approached the teacher’s cabin with a hint of trepidation, as she hadn’t seemed too pleased with any overture of friendship this afternoon. However, he refused to change his business practices for a surly woman, and he had discovered he had no desire to return to the mean, bitter man he had been before his daughter had arrived in Bear Grass Springs.

  Yet he feared this Alvira woman might test his resolve.

  He settled his pushcart beside her cabin and knocked on her door. When he heard footsteps, he took a step away from the door, so as to not overwhelm her on her doorstep. “Hello, Miss Damon. I have what you requested.”

  She stared at him a long moment. “Is it acceptable for you to help me bring this all inside?”

  He chuckled and shook his head in amusement at her concern about propriety in this small town in the Territory. “It’s fine. If you’re that worried about your reputation, leave the door open.” He frowned when she failed to smile or to laugh at his joke. “No one thinks less of you, miss, for having your groceries delivered.”

  Alvira nodded, groaning as she attempted to heft a sack of flour. “Oh my, I can’t lift that.”

  Tobias scowled. “Leave that to me.” He had it on one shoulder and carrying another bag of sugar before she had even recovered her breath.

  Staring after him in wonder, Alvira swiped at her forehead. Turning back to the cart, she lifted a small box filled with packets of spices and other dried goods. Upon entering, she saw him standing, as he stared around her small cabin. “Is something wrong?”

  “Wrong? No,” he said. “Where would you like these?” He shifted his shoulders to indicate the heavy bags of flour and sugar. When she motioned to a larder area covered by a curtain, he settled them inside. “Jane’s done a nice job with this home.”

  “You know her?” Alvira asked, confused by the note of pride in his voice at the mention of the woman who worked at the bakery.

  “Of course. She’s my daughter,” he said.

  “That explains it,” she murmured, with a satisfied grin.

  “Explains what?” Tobias asked, as he stepped closer and glowered at her.

  “Why I thought she looked familiar. She looks a bit like you.”

  Relaxing, Tobias smiled, his gaze glinting with pride. “She does, although she looks most like her mother, Ada.” He took a deep breath, as he fought that regret. “A few more things remain in my cart, and then I’ll leave you to enjoy the rest of your evening.”

  “Thank you. I should have everything settled by the start of school in a few days.”

  Tobias paused at the cart, staring at her in confusion. “A few days? School starts after the Harvest Dance.”

  “Why must the children of this town suffer from a lack of education because the Territory mandates such few
school days? Don’t parents want their children to learn more?”

  Tobias scratched at his head, as though considering her question. “For many parents, it is challenging enough, sending their children to school rather than having them do their chores at home. If they can learn to read and to do basic arithmetic, their children are doing better than many in town.”

  “Shouldn’t they want more?” Alvira asked, her cheeks flushed and her eyes lit with a dogged determination. “Shouldn’t you want more than good enough for your children?”

  “Miss, I won’t argue with you,” Tobias said, as he set another box on her table with a thud. “What I would say is, at least make an attempt to learn our ways before you stick that nose of yours any higher in the air. Many parents need their children’s help to get in the harvest, so they can then feed them and provide for them.” He watched as she flushed at his comment, battling rage and denial that she was attempting to change the townsfolk’s way.

  When she remained silent, he nodded at her and moved back to his cart, returning to town. Although he appreciated her desire to be the best teacher possible for the children, he knew she would need to adapt to their customs. With a sigh, he returned to his store, setting his cart beside the rear door and reentering the kitchen.

  Nights like tonight, he yearned for a wife. For female companionship. To talk over Jessamine’s latest paper or to read a book aloud. To simply hold his wife’s hand and to not feel alone in the world. With a sigh, he attempted to let go of the regrets of the past, although he knew it would be a struggle after mentioning Ada. It always was. With another deep breath, he fought remorse that he could never be more than a storekeeper to Miss Damon.

  Chapter 3

  On the first day of school near the end of September, Alvira rang the bell by the side of the door, perplexed that no children played in the yard. The sun shone; birds trilled in nearby bushes, and the scent of fall was in the air. Alvira stood with her hands on her hips, looking around for children to appear.

  Perhaps the previous teacher hadn’t rung the bell, and the children had arrived on their own at a later time, although Alvira thought starting school at ten a generous hour. She hoped to give those on nearby farms ample time to travel into town. Entering the schoolroom with a huff, Alvira pushed at a desk and straightened books on a bookshelf that didn’t need to be arranged.

  After another half hour, she sighed and poked her head out the door again. No children made their slow way to school. Dashed were her visions of children eager to learn. She sat on the front steps of her school, remembering Warren’s advice to start school after the harvest. She refused to recall her interaction with Tobias and his admonishment that she was stuck up. The less time she thought about that man, the better. As for her school, weren’t there children in town who would like to enhance their education?

  In the distance, she saw two girls, running around and playing, and Alvira rose. Waving to them, she smiled in what she hoped was a friendly manner as they approached. “Hello, girls. I’m your new schoolteacher, Miss Damon.” Each girl was red faced and breathless from their race around town, one with red hair, the other with black hair. “Why didn’t you come to school today?”

  The girls shared a quick glance, before shrugging. “School never starts this early,” the red-haired girl said. “At least, not for a few years. Not since Mama quit teaching.”

  Alvira frowned. “Do you want to wait another month before returning to school?”

  Smiling, the black-haired girl bit back a giggle. “We’re in school every day. Both our mamas read to us and make us write and study. Our papas like us to do arithmetic, and our uncle says it helps him with his projects.” She shrugged again. “We’re always learning.”

  “You know I’m Miss Damon.” At their nods, Alvira smiled and asked, “Who are you?”

  “I’m Hortence MacKinnon,” the red-haired girl said.

  “I’m her cousin, Mildred Renfrew,” the black-haired girl said. “And we don’t go to school.”

  “Why not?” Alvira demanded, her hands on her hips, her eyes flashing with concern.

  “Mr. Danforth didn’t like teaching a part-native girl,” Mildred said. She stood tall, with her shoulders back, as though she expected Alvira to express the same opinion as the previous teacher.

  “Is that so?” Alvira murmured. “Might I have a word with your father?”

  “Our papas work together at the livery,” Hortence said, hopping and skipping, as though she had too much energy to contain. “Let’s go!”

  Alvira shut the school door and followed the girls, who now chattered on about the sweets they hoped to charm out of their aunt Annabelle and the horses they hoped to pet at the livery. Their dresses flapped against their legs, as they trotted ahead of Alvira. Against her will, Alvira felt herself captivated by their youthful exuberance and free expression of their joy. She had tried for so long to keep herself separate and distant from everyone that she had forgotten how much she craved such simple connections.

  Hortence barreled into the livery, calling out for her father. “Papa! Miss Damon needs to speak with you and Uncle Bears.”

  Mildred quietly entered, although she seemed just as intent on finding her father.

  A man approached Hortence and ran a hand over her head, wrapping an arm around her shoulder, as she leaned against his side. He was tall with brown hair and somber brown eyes, although fine lines were around his eyes and mouth. Alvira wondered if they were from frowning or laughing.

  “Hello, Miss Damon. I hope ye feel welcome in town,” he said, with a Scottish brogue. “I’m Hortence’s da, Alistair MacKinnon.”

  She nodded and watched as another man approached, holding Mildred’s hand. Standing as tall as Alistair, with long jet-black hair pulled back that cascaded down his back like a silky waterfall, her breath caught at his startling beauty. He had a light-brown complexion and strong features that harkened to his Native American heritage. He moved with a lithe grace, and his piercing brown eyes stared at her for a long moment. “Hello, sir. I’m Miss Damon.”

  “I’m Bears,” he said. “Bright Fawn—Mildred—is my daughter.”

  Alvira nodded. “I’m the new schoolteacher, and I was disheartened to hear your daughters have not been attending school recently.”

  Bears shifted, his jaw tightening and his eyes flashing with warning. “I refuse to allow my daughter to attend a school where she will be shamed for being who she is.”

  Alvira nodded. “I agree. Shaming and name-calling is not allowed in my schoolroom. Everyone is welcome to learn and to find joy in each day’s discovery.” She shared a long look with Bears. “Such behavior will not be allowed. I promise you.”

  When Bears remained quiet, Alvira took a deep breath. “I would be honored to teach your daughter, Bright Fawn.” She turned to Alistair. “And Hortence.”

  She watched as Alistair and Bears shared a glance, much like their daughters had. She realized they were close friends, although she had yet to determine how they were related.

  “We’ll need to speak to our wives,” Bears said. “If they agree, the girls will be at school tomorrow.”

  Alvira beamed at them. “Thank you. I wish you a good day. Girls,” she said, with a small nod, before turning on her heel and returning to her school. Noting that no child had arrived during her short absence, she entered the school, shut the windows, and locked the door, hopeful tomorrow would truly be the first day of school.

  * * *

  The next afternoon, Tobias swept the boardwalk in front of his store, smiling as he saw Hortence and Mildred racing toward him. Their pigtails bounced around them, and they looked the picture of two young girls, relishing their freedom after a day in school. He smiled broadly at them, as they skidded to a stop in front of him. “Hello, my girls.”

  “Uncle Tobias!” Hortence said, with a delighted smile. “We just had to visit you today and tell you all about school.”

  He beamed at them, setting aside his broo
m, as he wrapped an arm around each girl’s shoulder. “A momentous day, like the first day of school, calls for a treat.” He winked at them. “You are fortunate I own a store filled with goodies.” He chuckled, as they squealed with glee and raced inside ahead of him.

  He followed them in, pausing to watch, as they bent their heads together to confer over which treats to choose. A deep regret filled him that he had lost his close friendships over the years, and he yearned to turn back the clock and to redo that time in his life, when he had ruined everything. With a deep breath, he reminded himself to give thanks for this second chance. For the wonder of these two girls calling him uncle and seeking him out to tell him about their day.

  He slipped behind the counter and stared at them, with mischief in his gaze. “What will it be?” he asked.

  “May I have a chocolate bar?” Hortence asked.

  “May I have one too?” Mildred asked.

  He stared at them and shook his head. “No, you may split one. If you ate all that chocolate, you wouldn’t want your supper, and your mamas would be upset with me.” He pulled out a prized bar of chocolate and broke it in half, handing a portion to each girl. “What was the most exciting thing to occur in school today?”

  Mildred, who was too often reticent and quiet, as Hortence was outgoing and talkative, gave a chirp of delight and bounced on her toes. “Oh, the schoolmistress is wonderful!” she squealed. “She laughed when she found a frog in her pocket and said it would be the school mascot.”

  Hortence giggled and beamed at Tobias. “The boys were disappointed, and Sir Hop-a-Lot was soon freed, as he didn’t enjoy his time indoors.”

  “Sir Hop-a-Lot?” Tobias asked, with a delighted grin. “She named the frog?”

  “Oh, yes,” Mildred said. “She said such a regal creature should be respected. The boys had to chase him around the room, as he hopped and evaded them.”