t you don’t own our thoughts. This is America. We’re free to think however we please. I don’t want their kind here. As much money as you have, you can’t control our opinions. You don’t like it? Too bad.”
“I don’t like it. My friend’s dead because of a bigot. I’ll find out the truth. Trust me, whoever was involved will pay.”
“You’re not going to find answers here,” Carter said.
That was clear. I tipped my hat and left. Once outside, I drew in a deep breath.
Knowing I wouldn’t be able to concentrate back at my office, I headed toward the park. Often, I’d eat my lunch there and watch the ducks. I trudged with some care through the banks of snow caused by the plow Harley had used earlier to clear the streets. The storefronts had been shoveled but were slick under my feet.
Harley and I had planted grass, laid brick walkways, and built benches around the pond, creating a park for picnics and family gatherings in warm months and ice-skating during the winter. Only a couple feet deep, the water was too shallow for swimming. However, it made for great ice-skating in the winter months. Today, a thick layer of ice covered the pond and was likely to remain until late March. I brushed several inches of new snow from a bench near the water’s edge and sat. The sun hung low in the sky and shed a wintry blue light over the landscape.
With great squawking and fluttering of wings, a flock of black-and-white ducks swooped over the pond and onto the ice. Surprised by the slick surface, they slid on their feathered bellies. Affronted by this indignity, they rose on their webbed feet and took tiny steps, then slid a few inches and repeated the cycle, all the while pecking the ice with their bills. Their quacks sounded more like bleats as they complained to one another. Food sources this time of year were at the mercy of the weather.
As I sat there, I thought through my next move. If today had taught me anything, it was that Samuel’s death was not going to be solved by the sheriff. I had nothing to go on, other than a suspicion his murder had been caused by bigotry. I had to come to a reconciliation that I might never know who killed my friend. Until Rachel forgave me, I couldn’t do much for her, either.
Agitated, I left the ducks to their hopeless search for bugs in the ice and walked back toward the main street. Before I knew it, I found myself in the yard of the schoolhouse. Just to check on Miss Cooper and the children, I told myself as I trudged through the snow to the front steps. I pulled out my pocket watch to check the time. Just after two. They would let out for recess in a few minutes. I peered through the windows. Miss Cooper was at her desk with four of the children. The rest were leaned over their lessons.
Perhaps sensing my presence, she raised her head and spotted me. Embarrassed to be caught, I raised a hand in a wave. She smiled and nodded. That smile. I swear my heart grew larger in my chest.
Chapter 17
Quinn
* * *
The days rolled by one after the other as we settled into a happy routine. After breakfast, the children, Lord Barnes, and I hustled into the sleigh and Harley took us all into town. Lord Barnes went off to his office while the children and I went inside the warm classroom. The school day flew by for me. I hoped it did for my students. They all seemed content enough and were so well behaved I worried something might be wrong with them. Did the mountain air deprive them of oxygen and make them submissive? When I asked Lord Barnes about this theory, he laughed and said it was my superior discipline skills at work. Like a silly schoolgirl, I basked in the glow of his compliment all day.
In the afternoons, Harley came for all of us and we made our way home, stimulated from the cold, fresh air and hungry for tea. Lizzie and Merry always had refreshments ready for us when we returned. Then, the children could do as they pleased for the hour or so before supper. I took the opportunity to write letters home or to read in the library during this time. Lord Barnes often did the same, sitting at his large desk in the corner, the sound of his pen dipping in and out of his inkwell a comforting sound as I wrote from the smaller desk.
Lord Barnes insisted I eat supper in the dining room with him and the children.
When I asked Lizzie if this was appropriate, she gave me a strange smile and patted me on the shoulder. “Dear, Lord Barnes makes his own rules. If he asked you to sit with the family, then it’s perfectly fine. I suspect he’s happy for the company.”
I was also happy for the company. I’d never met a man as interesting or as curious about such a variety of subjects. Throughout supper, he entertained the children and me with his stories of his travels. He’d been all over Europe and even to the tip of Africa. “Nowhere felt like home,” he said one night. “Until I came here.”
After supper, I would get the children ready for bed, supervising baths and checking to make sure Flynn had washed behind his ears. When they were ready, I would read to them as I had that first night, all snuggled together in the girls’ room.
By the end of the week, I was tired but happy as I closed the flue on the stove in my classroom. The Barnes flock was playing in the snow in the last light of the November afternoon. I’d just pinned my hat to my head when Harley appeared.
“Harley, you didn’t have to come for me. I’m on my way out,” I said.
“It’s not that, Miss Cooper.” He took off his newsboy cap and held it in both hands with his gaze directed at the floor. “I had a question for you. About night school.”
“Of course.” I stuck the last pin in my hat and reached for my coat.
“I’ve never had any school. Other than knowing how to write my name and a few other words, I can’t read any English.”
“Not having opportunities is nothing to be ashamed of. There’s only shame in not taking them when they’re presented to you.”
He nodded. “I suppose. I’m worried I’m too stupid to learn.”
“I’m a very good teacher,” I said. “And you’re a bright young man. Lord Barnes wouldn’t trust you with his beloved estate if that weren’t true.”
Harley flashed a sheepish smile and rubbed a wayward curl back into place. “I’ll be bringing Miss Merry with me.”
“I’m glad.” Merry’s assessment that Harley didn’t know she was alive might not be true, given the way his cheeks bloomed red.
He gestured toward the door. “After you, Miss Cooper.”