Heart of Gold (A Gold Rush Romance) (15 page)

Thomas turned his head to see Joe standing there, his eyes unhappy and earnest. The boy stepped a little closer and asked, “Is it true that Miss Crenshaw isn’t going to be our teacher anymore?”

Thomas knew he couldn’t lie to the boy, but he was unsure exactly what to say. He gathered his thoughts, trying to decide what would be best. Finally, he shrugged. “I don’t know, Joe. I’m trying to stop it from happening, but she might need to move towns. If she does, I want to go with her. I want to marry her.”

Joe nodded without a hint of surprise, though he appeared forlorn at the prospect. “I don’t want to leave Shasta.”

“I don’t either, Joe.”

“What if all of the students decided we didn’t want another teacher, only Miss Crenshaw; would that do any good?”

Thomas almost dismissed the idea, but then he thought about it for a moment. Students fighting to keep a teacher they loved could go a long way to warm the townspeople’s hearts toward Alice. Hell, it couldn’t hurt.

He looked at Joe waiting for a response. He was a smart boy, Thomas knew. He was sure he could trust the child to orchestrate a mini-rebellion among five- to ten-year-olds.

He shrugged again and smiled at the boy. “I don’t know if it would convince them to let her teach again, but it might help somehow. Do you think you are up to the challenge?”

Joe’s face broke into a grin as he nodded his assent. Thomas had one other worry, though. “Are you sure you don’t feel warm or have any itchy spots on you, though? If you’ve got the chicken pox, you should stay home and rest. If you caught it, you should feel ill in the next day or two.”

Joe looked down at the ground. “Uncle Thomas, I know why I didn’t get chicken pox.”

Thomas waited, curious what the boy would say. Joe continued, tears in his eyes. “I had them two years ago. When you brought me to see the sick boy, I thought I would have to get them again, but his brother explained how you only get them once when I saw him the next day at school. I felt stupid about it, so I never told you.”

Thomas was relieved to have a simple problem he could actually solve put before him. “Joe, that’s nothing to feel bad about. I never explained it, and I should have. I’m just glad you get to avoid being sick. I’m not mad at all, I promise. In fact, it gave me another chance to see Miss Crenshaw, which was very nice. So thank you.”

Joe perked up at his guardian’s words. “So I’m not in trouble?”

Thomas shook his head and Joe beamed. Then he got back to the task at hand. “When can I start helping Miss Crenshaw?” the boy asked.

Thomas looked out at the dark sky. “You can’t do anything tonight, that is quite certain. Tomorrow is Sunday, so that might make things difficult. I trust you to decide what you want to do and I am going to work on other plans, too. Only act on what you feel is right, will you? If you cannot or do not want to actually do this, there are other things we can see to that will help her.”

Joe nodded enthusiastically. “I’ll make good choices Uncle Thomas, I promise. I’m going to come up with a plan.” And with that, he was racing up the stairs to his room.

Thomas chuckled. The child was more like him than he had ever expected.

Now it was time to work on his own preparations. He would meet with the Western Union proprietor the next day after church and see about writing a few wires to be sent first thing Monday. He wanted to get started on selling the farm as soon as possible, now that he had officially decided to do so. He would then spend the afternoon working to clear Alice’s name or finding a loophole, or both, though he had no idea how he would actually do those things.

He spent the evening racking his brain, trying to find some way to accomplish such tasks, but it seemed like he would need a miracle. When he finally went to sleep, he was almost despondent. He would stay with Alice, follow her if he had to, that was certain. But how could he marry her and how would she ever be able to teach again? He simply didn’t know.

Alice trudged down the stairs of the Leach home. She wanted to stay in her room permanently, but hunger had finally driven her out. She wanted to hide from everyone—avoid seeing faces filled with anger or concern or pity—but she was starving and decided it was best to meet the whole family at once, during the big Sunday meal they always had after church.

She had spent the past day trying to find a way to solve her problem, but had come up with nothing. She was tired and defeated. Packing and getting out of town were the only options left to her, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. For over two years, Shasta had been her home, and she wanted to stay—it was that simple. There didn’t seem to be any other option but leave, though.

As she walked into the dining room to eat with the family, she prepared herself for the questions and looks from them. When she stepped into the room, however, all she got was a stern admonition from Mrs. Leach. “Alice, dear,” she scolded, “What have you been doing, wasting away in your room? Sit down and eat, for land’s sake!”

Alice was unsure how to react, so she said nothing, but sat down in her empty chair and began to eat. She ate in silence as the family continued their conversations, grateful that they took so little interest in her.

Once her hunger was satiated, Mrs. Leach clapped her hands—a habit Alice had come to expect from the woman, and which she found so endearing tears welled in her eyes at the thought of leaving and never hearing it again—and said, “Everyone, it is time to go about your business. Shoo!”

The table cleared as if the departures had been orchestrated. Even Mr. Leach departed, after a single lingering kiss on Mrs. Leach’s cheek in a gesture that made Alice ache for a life she knew was impossible. And then Alice was alone with Mrs. Leach, who wasted no time getting down to business matters. “Let’s just make sure I understand everything. You are in love with Mr. Thomas Lancaster, you love your job from which you have been dismissed, and your current steps of action for both these problems is to hide in your room? My goodness, dear, I thought you were intelligent.”

Alice was so startled she had no response. Mrs. Leach continued, her tone softened somewhat. “Alice, you must fight for your position, and you need to go to your Thomas and tell him you love him. That should be obvious to you.”

Alice crossed her arms on the table and dropped her head onto them. Her voice sounded odd even to herself, either because her mouth was so close to the wooden tabletop or because she was close to crying, she was not sure which. “It’s more complicated than that,” she explained. “I cannot be with Thomas because I’m married, and I am losing my job for the same reason.”

“Then divorce the man. I have heard tell it’s a fairly simple process for a young lady out here in the West. At least then you get half of what you want, and you are no worse off when it comes to the rest.”

Alice lifted her head and sighed. “It’s not only that. I think Thomas might have been the one to tell Mr. Wilson about the marriage. He was the only person who knew.”

Mrs. Leach’s laugh rolled through the room. Once she had quieted down some, she asked, “You don’t really believe he would do that, do you?”

“No. Maybe? I don’t know. How else did Wilson find out?”

“Well I am sure I don’t know, but if you think Mr. Lancaster did that, you have spent far too little time watching that man when he talks about you. It only took a few words out of his mouth for me to see how smitten he was, so I cannot comprehend how you missed it. He would never hurt you like this.”

Alice nodded. She knew the older woman was right. She had known it all along, even. It just seemed easier, somehow, if she had somebody to blame. “I’ll need to speak with him.”

“Well of course you do! But not today.”

Alice looked at the woman, curious what she was thinking. Mrs. Leach leaned in like a fellow conspirator. Over what, Alice had no idea. “There’s something going on with the students. They have organized some type of a rebellion and have put out the message that they will terrorize the school unless you are reinstated as the teacher. There has already been a very adorable anonymous message posted to the schoolhouse door. Everyone was talking about it at church today, and the school board is calling an emergency meeting tomorrow, after the three members teach classes for the day. Mrs. Swenson was asked to teach while they looked for a replacement—apparently being unwed is only necessary if you are young, those fools—but she refused. She said she was too infirm to take the position, which is certainly not true. I’m sure she disagrees with the school board as much as I do. You need to get your rest tonight and prepare an appeal for tomorrow. With some luck, the children will have been so awful the board will throw out the rules and beg for you to come back.”

Alice’s heart lifted slightly. Mrs. Swenson, the town tutor and piano teacher, was the most educated woman in town and had been the one to teach when the last teacher left so suddenly. If she disagreed with the board and refused to cooperate, and the students fought the change, others in the town might listen. It was unlikely, but a possibility nonetheless. She had a deep, desperate urge to see Thomas, and staying away seemed burdensome, but she was aware that if she entered his house there was little likelihood she would leave voluntarily or get any sleep at all. That thought made her stomach twist with desire, but her brain knew that what Mrs. Leach said was for the best.

Alice walked back up the stairs to her room, her steps lighter than when she had descended such a short time before. She had to believe it would all work out. She still did not know how, precisely, but there was no reason not to try.

She would simply need to wait until tomorrow.

Chapter Eight

Thomas entered the Western Union office, the dim interior so different from the sunshine of the day that it took several moments for his eyes to adjust. His companion seemed to have no difficulty, though, and began bustling around, gathering the items Thomas needed.

Thomas had come to the office with the establishment’s only employee, a grizzled elderly man named Cliff. The man was sprightly enough, although he walked with a hunch that bespoke long hours sitting at a desk. Thomas had spoken to Cliff in the office a few times to check for messages from Mr. Bridger, the man who was living on his farm while he was gone. Cliff was a cordial fellow, and was willing enough to take Thomas to the office to write out his message this Sunday afternoon, though he made it clear that it would be sent the next morning at the earliest.

Now that they were away from the crowded streets and Thomas was seated and writing the message to be sent, Cliff became talkative. His chatter settled on the main topic discussed throughout the town, the one that tightened the band around Thomas’s chest: Miss Crenshaw’s dismissal. “Seems like all the young’uns liked her, that Miss Crenshaw. Don’t know how it matters if she was married or not, but I don’t have any chil’ren, so’s I guess it’s somethin’ I don’t ‘xactly unnerstand.”

Thomas had stayed out of the conversations he overheard at the church, but he could not stay quiet here, and the fellow seemed kindly enough, almost inviting confidence. “It was a marriage from a long time ago,” he responded, “and she is one of the nicest, smartest people I have ever met. That Mr. Wilson is stirring up trouble with all this.”

Cliff’s mustache wiggled as he grimaced. “Don’t know what ever’body sees in Wilson. He’s trouble, he is. If they knew—“

Cliff stopped mid-sentence, his expression changing to one of alarm. Thomas leaned forward, hoping beyond hope that Cliff might know something that would help him win Miss Crenshaw’s position back. All wired missives did go through him, after all. His voice low, Thomas asked, “Cliff, do you know something about Mr. Wilson?”

Cliff hesitated, and Thomas’s heart jumped. It was true, Cliff had information. How on Earth could he get him to tell him about it, though? There was only one way he could think of, and that was complete and utter honesty. “Listen Cliff,” he explained, “I love Miss Crenshaw. Wilson’s doing this to spite her because she refused his advances. I will do anything I can to help her. Please.”

Cliff’s mustache wiggled again, this time as his mouth frowned. His bushy eyebrows knitted together. He seemed hesitant to talk about it, but Thomas waited, hoping. Finally, the old man spoke, his voice low and careful. “I’m not sure as it’s decent for me to share, ‘specially since the man threatened my job if’n I told anybody, but it’s not right what he’s doing to Miss Crenshaw, neither.”

Thomas wanted to jump up and hug the old man, but he stayed in his seat and listened. Cliff went to a small file hidden behind the regular files and brought out a thin metal box. He unlocked it and thumbed through what looked like a stack of old messages. “He told me to burn ’em, but I kept ‘em in case he ever took after me. Can’t trust that one.”

At last, he pulled out two messages and set them on the table. Thomas read them, and his eyes widened. He raised his eyes and stared at Cliff open-mouthed; the old man nodded solemnly. “You can take ‘em. I’ve been thinking ‘bout quittin’ anyways. Might’s well go out with a bang.”

Thomas shoved both slips into his vest pocket. He shook the man’s hand firmly. “Thank you, Cliff. Alice—Miss Crenshaw—thanks you, too.”

Cliff smiled at the young man’s exuberance. Thomas turned to the door, his mind whirring with the new information. Before his hand touched the knob, however, Cliff’s voice stopped him. “If you’re in love with the lady like you say, you’ll want to take this one, too. Came for her ‘bout a year back, but Mr. Wilson told me to get rid of it, too. Said it was for her best int’rest. That it’d hurt her too much.”