Beyond This Moment (12 page)

It was dread of people eventually discovering the truth. And of what it would cost them. Not just her. But them too.

She cringed when she thought of James or Rachel or cute little Emily Thompson, a student she'd been introduced to at the general store, learning about what she'd done. The people she'd met that afternoon, among them eager parents willing to entrust their children to her care, were already accepting her as their teacher and as part of this town.

She'd come to Timber Ridge with a pile of preconceptions about the community and its people. And though she wasn't willing to concede that all of her opinions were unfounded, the townspeople she'd met so far had given her cause to rethink most of them.

A name on a building they passed drew her attention. Miss Ruby's Boardinghouse. She remembered a boardinghouse being mentioned in a telegram and wondered why that wasn't being included on the tour. "Is that where I'll be living?"

She aimed her question at Rachel, who leaned forward and looked at her brother.

James gave something close to a nod, his focus remaining on the road. "That's where the town council planned you'd be living. Yes, ma'am."

Molly glanced behind them as they passed. The building looked nice enough. Nothing fancy, but clean. And, she hoped, absent of bugs, which hadn't described her overnight lodgings in Denver. She shuddered remembering.

Sensing an opening, she chose her words with care, not wanting to offend. "Perhaps we could stop by there on our way back through town, and I could speak with the proprietress about moving in today. That way I wouldn't be an imposition to either of you:"

Rachel frowned. "You're not an imposition at all. And you're welcome to stay with us until your . . " She paused. "Until your room is ready. Right, James?"

"That's right. Still.. " He glanced down at Molly. "We want you to be comfortable. We'll see if we have time to stop by once were done seeing the school:"

Satisfied with his answer, Molly sat back. "How far is the walk from the boardinghouse to the schoolhouse?"

'About ten minutes or so" He glanced down at her heeled boots. "Give or take, depending on how fast you can walk in those fancy shoes of yours:"

Jesting curled the flat edge of his voice, and Rachel and the boys giggled.

On a whim, Molly angled her left boot as though admiring it. "I'm flattered you've taken such a liking to my shoes, Sheriff. I've won many a footrace in these boots;' she said, not having attempted such a girlish feat in years.

"Footrace?" Kurt's red head popped up over the back of the seat.

"You run footraces, Mrs. Whitcomb?" Mitchell appeared beside his brother.

Eyes widening, Molly heard James's quiet laughter beside her. "Well, no, boys. I was only-"

"That's something I'd sure like to see, ma'am" James did nothing to hide his smile this time. "You running a footrace, and in those fancy boots, no less"

Hearing the boys laughing behind her, Molly couldn't prevent a grin. She eyed her shoes. How fast could she run in her heels if given proper motivation? It was on the tip of her tongue to challenge them to a race when she caught herself. How would that look? Timber Ridge's newly widowed schoolteacher running willy-nilly through a field.

She turned on the seat and briefly covered Kurt's little hand. "Maybe we can race sometime later, Kurt. Once ... more time has passed:"

"But I don't see how come teachers can't-"

"Kurt.. " Rachel's voice adopted a motherly tone. "Remember what we talked about earlier."

The clip-clop of horses' hooves filled the silence.

Mitchell looked over at his brother. "Mrs. Whitcomb's husband died, and she's in mourning, like Mama was:"

Kurt squinted. "That's how come she's wearing your dress?"

"Yes, that's right:" Rachel gave Molly's arm a gentle squeeze. "Her trunks haven't arrived yet, so she's borrowing my dress:"

Quiet settled over the wagon, and the humor there only moments before quickly evaporated. Molly ran a hand over the skirt of the black dress, regretting how she'd bantered back and forth so casually with James. Not that she'd been flirtatious. She'd simply been more ... playful than was her custom with men. Part of her wanted to blame him for having this effect on her, but she knew better.

His friendliness, the way he made everyone feel so comfortable, drew something out in her. Something light and carefree and that made her feel so at ease-things she shouldn't be feeling right now.

They left the town behind, and the towering Maroon Bells steadily rose before them. The Twin Sisters stood sentinel over Timber Ridge and were even more impressive closer up. Timeless stone monuments vaulting up from the earth with a beauty so striking and unrelenting that Molly found it difficult to look away. If the schoolhouse was located nearby, coming to work every day would be a privilege.

A lake spread out at the foot of the mountains, tranquil and serene, its placid surface mirroring the highest peaks and the tufted clouds shrouding them. Molly angled her head sideways. The image on the water's surface was so pure, so clear, that if she hadn't known the truth, she would've had a hard time telling which was real and which was the reflection.

Glimpsing a building past the lake, she leaned forward on the seat. "Is that the school?"

"Yes, ma'am, it is:" James guided the horses down a side road.

It wasn't as she'd imagined. The schoolhouse wasn't rustic in the least. It was made from lumber, just like schoolhouses back east. Coats of white paint covered the walls and gleamed brightly in the afternoon sun. There was even a play area set off to the side, complete with a seesaw and a swing looped over a low-hanging limb.

As they drew closer, Molly saw a bell affixed to the side of the building by the double front doors, and already, she could imagine its clarion tone. "When was the school built?"

James looked over at her. "I thought you would've read that in the advertisement for the teaching position:'

Molly had never seen the original advertisement, not that she could tell him that. "I'm afraid that part slipped my mind:"

He gave her a look of amusement. "The building's new as of last fall. Mayor Davenport insisted on putting that in the advertisement. Said it would be an added incentive to applicants" He raised a brow. "I'll be sure and tell him it had a big influence on your decision to accept our offer"

Molly sought to cover the minor misstep with a teasing laugh. "Please don't tell the mayor any such thing. I'd like to stay on his good side. I guess the mention of the new building made less of an impression at the time than where Timber Ridge was located:" Which was the truth. When President Northrop had first suggested her accepting this job in the Colorado Territory, all hope had drained from her as she'd pictured a community of mountain ruffians and illiterate children. She was grateful that wasn't proving to be the case.

James brought the wagon to a stop, and Mitchell and Kurt leapt from the back. The boys set off at a run with Rachel following them. Molly climbed from the wagon, surprised when she felt hands come about her waist, assisting her descent.

For an instant, she feared James might notice the slight thickening in her waistline, then realized how silly the thought was. "Thank you, James:" Standing so close to him, she caught the scent of bay rum and spice. Same as was on his pillow.

"My pleasure, ma'am." He motioned for her to precede him up the path to the door.

She'd already begun preparing her lessons. The hours spent on the train coming west had allowed ample time for that-when she wasn't nauseated from the rocking motion. What she didn't know, and wouldn't until she met with each student, was where each boy and girl was in their studies. She stared at the building ahead. Teaching children in Timber Ridge was going to be a far different challenge from teaching at Franklin College. One for which she wasn't certain she was ready.

Rachel and the boys stood on the landing, all smiles, and Molly realized they were waiting for her to enter first. Reaching the top step, she bobbed a curtsey and opened the doors. She hadn't known what to expect, but nothing could have prepared her for what awaited inside.

Not one but two large chalkboards hung on the front wall. Rows of students' desks-she estimated thirty, at a glance-were lined up in neat rows across the width of the room. And upon each desk was a new slate and supply of chalk, along with one of various editions of McGuffey's Readers.

But what drew her attention most were the stocked bookshelves that ran the length of the back wall. Emotion tightened her throat. Even at Franklin College, a highly respected and accredited institution, the latest curriculum and ample supplies were not something easily acquired. That's why she'd brought so much with her, for fear there would be so little available here. "Where did all of this come from?"

"It's a long story." James came along beside her, hat in hand. "One of the women in town is the daughter of a U.S. senator. Her father pulled some strings and had all this sent out. I doubt there's another school in all the territories that's as well equipped as this one:"

"Or back east;' Molly added softly.

"When do you start teaching us, Mrs. Whitcomb?"

Molly turned to see Kurt peering up, his blue eyes inquisitive. "School begins in a little less than three weeks, is my understanding." She looked to James for confirmation, in case something had changed.

"Hardly more than two weeks, I'm afraid:" He pulled a piece of paper from his vest pocket and handed it to her, apology lining his expression. "The town council met last week and came up with a list of items they'd like to see accomplished before school starts:"

She unfolded the page and read the list, and worked to suppress her shock. They wanted her to accomplish the whole list in two weeks! But she'd always said she liked a challenge-and she needed this job. Feeling the pressure of everyone's attention, she summoned confidence she didn't feel. "I think all of this is very doable, Sheriff, and I look forward to getting started. Immediately!" She laughed to soften the exclamation.

"If the boys and I can help in any way"-Rachel stepped closer"we'd be happy to:"

"Thank you. I'd appreciate that:"

Mitchell tugged on his mother's sleeve. "Can we play outside for a minute, Mama? Please? We'll play fast:"

Rachel tousled the boys' hair. "Five minutes:" She narrowed her eyes. "But the last one to the swing's a rotten egg!" Giggling, she raced them out the door.

Still absorbing her new surroundings, Molly walked toward the front of the room to the teacher's desk. Her desk. She ran a hand along the edge, noting that the desk differed from the others in the room. Stained a rich maple, it possessed a rustic elegance the others lacked. Careful attention had been given the delicate carvings on the drawer pulls and the beveled edges along the top. Someone had taken great pride in crafting it.

James's footfalls sounded behind her. "It's made from pine taken right off the mountain out back:"

She opened one of the drawers. It pulled smoothly in her grip. "It's beautiful. So much nicer than anything I expected to find here." All of it was. The town of Timber Ridge, its people ...

"I'm glad you're pleased with it, Molly."

Something in his tone brought her gaze up. "You sound surprised. As if you expected I wouldn't be:" She huffed softly. "Why do people always assume that about me?" Too late she read his expression and realized she'd inadvertently invited his opinion about her character. Yet again.

His laughter was immediate. "I've seen that look before. Just last week, when I had a doe lined up down the barrel of my gun. She raised up and spotted me-" He shook his head. "And the look on her face said she wanted to be anywhere but where she was."

"You're comparing me to a doe you shot last week?"

He raised a hand. "I never said I shot her. I said I had her lined up in my sights:'

"So you didn't shoot her?"

"No, ma'am. I didn't."

Though tempted to pursue that line of conversation, Molly decided to pick at another thread instead-one she'd run up against beforeknowing he would answer honestly. "How is it that you've known me so short a time, yet already you assume I'm a woman who would be hard to please?"

This time he looked away first and developed a sudden interest in a book on her desk-Little Women. He picked it up and flipped through it. It was a favorite of hers, one she'd read numerous times.

Realizing he was stalling, Molly tilted her head to gain his attention, glad to be on the offensive with him for a change. "I can make the question more direct if you'd like, Sheriff."

That earned her a grin. "No need. I understood your question the first time. I'm just trying to think of a way to answer honestly that won't get me into further trouble." After a moment, he returned the book to her desk. "First off, I apologize for giving you the impression I thought you might be hard to please. It's just that, in my experience, women who come west, especially those coming from larger, more proper cities back east, tend to find life out here more ... rustic than what they expected. Most don't take kindly to it. Some do, in time, but it takes them a while:"

Molly found his statement fair, especially considering what he knew of her. "And you obviously think I fall into the category of women who don't make it. Is that a correct assumption?"

"If you'd asked me that question when I first saw you step from the train, I would've answered yes:" His eyes narrowed. "But that's not my answer anymore.

Molly stared. He'd seen her step from the train.... Interesting.

His expression sobered, as though he just now realized what he'd revealed. "I didn't mean to make it sound like I was watching you. I simply noticed you step from the train. You looked a little ... disappointed with your new surroundings. But that was only my impression. Maybe I misinterpreted your actions:'

"My actions?" Molly couldn't even remember what she'd done.

James lifted his hand and touched his nose in a rather feminine and awkward-looking manner for him. "You did something like that:"