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A melodious chime rang as she entered the small restaurant. It was a cozy place, with red-and-white checkered tablecloths on the dozen or so tables. Oil lamps sat in the middle of each table, with whimsical salt and pepper shakers bordering the lamps. The room smelled of something sweet, most likely pie.
Mr. Beaumont immediately stood as she approached the table where he sat in the front of the dining area She raised her chin, ready to do battle, with no intention of turning tail and running. She smiled brightly and took the chair he held out for her. “Thank you.”
“I’d like to buy you supper, Miss Cochran. Mrs. Pappy makes a wonderful pot roast.”
“Yes. I would like that. I must admit I have a hearty appetite. My brothers always teased me about it.” She took the napkin at her place and shook it out, laying it neatly on her lap.
“Tell me about your family. You have a brother?”
She thanked the waitress who filled their coffee cups, then took their orders for the pot roast supper. She turned to Mitch as she put sugar and cream into her cup and stirred. “I have four brothers.”
“Four?”
“Yes. My brother Paul is a pharmacist. He works with our cousin, Michael, in his pharmacy in Guthrie. My brother Henry—my twin—is enrolled at the University of Oklahoma Medical School. Benjamin just started college in Texas—my parents weren’t pleased at his defection—and Andrew, who is only four, is ready to start school next year.”
Mr. Beaumont shook his head. “What in God’s name are you doing here, woman?”
She raised her eyebrows. “What do you mean?”
“We are a small town. A backwards town, I’m sure, from your way of thinking. Why would you take this job with the sort of family you come from?”
She tilted her head to one side. “What does one have to do with the other?”
“Don’t play games with me, Miss Cochran.” He leaned forward, his eyes flashing. “If you’re here as a lark, as a way to have something to write in your journal so when you return home you can read it to your society friends and laugh, we don’t need you, nor do we want you.”
“How dare you?” She sucked in a breath as heat rose to her face. “I’ll have you know I am a serious teacher. I am well educated and want very much to bring the outside world to the children of Dogtown. Education lifts one up and opens up an entire new world.”
“Is that so? And I guess you think we’re a bunch of ruffians who can’t read or write unless someone who is ‘well educated’ comes and bestows us with their presence so they can ‘lift us up’?”
“Vous êtes un homme impossible,” Priscilla mumbled under her breath, then took a deep breath as the waitress approached the table, giving them both a guarded look. Pulling herself together, Priscilla smiled at the girl. “Thank you so much. I’m quite hungry, and it looks and smells wonderful.”
Mitch’s lips twitched at Miss Cochran’s “you are an impossible man” comment. A rebuke on his tongue, he stopped himself and decided to allow Miss Cochran her illusion that Dogtown citizens were somehow below her, and certainly would never know a foreign language. He’d learned French right along with English and Crow as a child. All three languages were spoken in his home and he’d done the same with Ian.
“Look, Miss Cochran, you seem like a nice girl—”
“—woman.” She glared at him, her fork and knife fisted in her hands on either side of her plate.
“—and I’m sure you mean well, and you probably even think you have a lot to share with our children. However, it’s obvious to me you come from a much grander, shall we say, lifestyle than what you will experience here.”
“And you assume since my brothers and I are well educated that somehow we look down on people? Are you saying I’m a snob?”
Mitch shrugged and started to eat. This woman was even worse than the last one. At least when Miss Fisher had arrived, she’d known from the start she didn’t belong in Dogtown. Miss Cochran was a stubborn woman who wanted to “do good.” In his estimation, the scariest type of people in the world.
“You seem to forget I have a contract, Mr. Beaumont, signed by your mayor.”
Mitch pointed his fork at her. “A contract that was offered under false pretenses.”
“How do you figure that? I am a certified teacher with a degree in education from the Central State Normal School of Oklahoma. I am qualified to teach students from first grade right through high school.”
“On the letter you sent, you indicated you were a ‘woman of mature years.’”
“I am.”
He pushed his plate back and crossed his arms over his chest. “How old are you, Miss Cochran?”
“Sir, it is rude to ask a woman her age.” She sniffed.
“Don’t play with me, Miss Cochran. How old are you?”
