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“That new teacher show up yet?” Ernest blinked rapidly.
“No. She’s ar
riving on the mail coach in about twenty minutes.”
“I sure hope this one stays. My granddaughter was upset when the last one left. Mary Lou said that goldarn teacher cried every day.”
“Well, I have that solved. I made sure the woman I hired this time was of more mature years. A young woman from outside just doesn’t take well to a town like ours. I’m sure Miss Cochran will be with us for a long, long time.”
The walk from his store to the mail coach was a quick one. Mitch looked around his town and smiled with satisfaction. There were a lot of things still needed, but they were on the right track to make Dogtown a nice town for families and a nice place to raise children.
He’d seen Dogtown for the first time when he was younger than Ian. His father, a French Canadian fur trapper, and his mother, a beautiful young woman from the Crow Nation, left Canada and moved south to the settlement called Dogtown in Colorado. So named because of all the dogs that roamed the streets of the tent town until the settlers rid the area of them.
Mitch had watched the settlement grow from tents to a thriving town that he hoped to see prosper even more. His father, Pierre Beaumont, had brought with him a cache of guns and rifles and set up the gun shop. His mother, Little Bright Star, made beaded clothing that she sold until she died of consumption when Mitch was eighteen. His brokenhearted father followed her to the grave not long after.
That was the year Mitch married Polly Gardner, who he buried nine months later after she died birthing Ian. Since then, it had been him and his son. Just the way he liked it. Loving a woman made a man weak and vulnerable. He suffered when Polly died, leaving him alone with an infant. He’d also watched his father wither and die after Little Bright Star had passed on.
Shaking off his somber thoughts, he headed to the general store where the mail coach made its stop. He flipped open his pocket watch. Ten minutes. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a movement. Ian slithered from building to building, looking behind him, hiding the fact he carried a bouquet of flowers.
Mitch smiled and waved his son over. “I’ll take that.” He accepted the flowers and leaned against the post holding the new gas lights the town had recently installed. Another improvement of which he was proud.
“We all ready for our new teacher?” Ray Morrow, the mayor of Dogtown, strolled up to Mitch, shifting his ever present cigar from one side of his mouth to the other.
“Sure are. I checked the repairs on the schoolteacher’s house yesterday.” A small house was part of the teacher’s salary. Rodents had eaten away a portion of the floor in the kitchen while the place had remained vacant since the last teacher left several months ago.
“I hear that mountain lion took out two of Casper’s sheep last night,” Mitch said.
“We have to get a group up to rid ourselves of that animal.” Ray poked the air with his cigar. “A hunting party needs to be brought up at the town council meeting tonight.”
Mitch nodded. “Good idea. We can’t have the creature terrorizing our farmers.”
The mayor slapped Mitch on the back. “Our teacher should be here soon. Smart move to hire an older woman this time, Mitch.”
“I agree.” He checked his watch once more. “Five minutes.”
Priscilla smoothed the wrinkles in her blue linen dress. The ride from Denver to Dogtown on the mail coach had been the worst part of her journey. Because of the unseasonably warm weather for the Rockies, Mr. Boswick, who drove the coach, had left the flaps on the side of the coach open to allow for a breeze. However, it had also let in small bugs that Priscilla had practically choked on. At least the man had closed the flaps when they’d ridden through a heavy rainstorm.
She wiped sweat from her forehead and upper lip and pushed back the damp curls sticking to her face under her bonnet. If she wasn’t so nervous about her subterfuge, she would be thrilled to hear Mr. Boswick call over his shoulder that they were only about ten minutes outside of Dogtown.
After all, how important could age be for a teaching position? She was fresh out of college and had brought along an entire trunk loaded down with books, slates, and teaching supplies. Her head was full of ideas on new methods of teaching. She was anxious to meet her students and start introducing them to the better things in life that education provided.
The coach began to slow down as the edge of town came into view. She was surprised to see a small but tidy town. She moved from one side of the coach to the other, taking in the houses that lined the streets. Most of them were snug homes with white picket fences around them, many with flower gardens. Several children stopped playing and watched the coach pass by. Apparently word had spread that the new teacher was arriving on the mail coach. Two little girls holding hands waved at her.
Several women strolled the boardwalk, cloth shopping bags dangling from their arms as they chatted with each other. They also stopped and watched the coach pass. Parents of her students, she surmised.
Goodness, it appeared everyone in town was anxious to see her. She took a deep breath and smiled at the women and waved back to the children. This would be her home from now on. Excitement coursed through her. She swung her head to the left when Mr. Boswick shouted, “That there is the schoolhouse.”
A small red building sat on a lot by itself. A clapboard house was partially visible from the road. She’d been told by Mr. Beaumont, who had hired her, that a house came with the teacher’s job. That must be the house he’d written about. Once more she wiped her upper lip.
They came to a rolling stop, and Priscilla’s stomach lurched, threatening to bring up the breakfast she’d eaten before they left Denver three hours earlier. She peeked out the side of the coach and saw two men and a boy standing on the boardwalk in front of the mercantile. One of the men held a bouquet of flowers. Since she was the only passenger and it was obvious the men waited for the coach, the flowers must be for the new teacher.
Mr. Boswick brought the coach to a complete stop and jumped off. He lowered the steps on the side of the coach. “We’re here, miss. And it looks like you have a welcoming committee.”
Taking another deep breath, Priscilla clutched her reticule and made her way to the doorway. She accepted Mr. Boswick’s hand and took the two steps to the ground. She smiled brightly at the two men. The younger one looked puzzled. “Are you Miss Cochran?”
“Yes.”
He continued to stare at her.
