Chapter One
Last Chance, Nebraska– March 1896
It was happening.
Marian Scott could hardly believe it, but it was true. The mayor and the town council had saidyesto her idea of starting a school. And better yet, they’d offered her the use of one of the abandoned storefronts on Second Street to house the school.
She’d wanted to skip right out of that meeting and whoop and holler the second she’d stepped outside. But instead, she’d settled for a grin and a deep breath of fresh, cold air.
She—Marian Scott—was going to be a teacher!
Marian’s steps felt lighter than the fluffy clouds in the sky. She smiled and said a cheerful hello to every person she passed as she made her way toward home. Nothing could possibly dampen her day now that her lifelong dream was coming true.
She’d walked into that meeting prepared with all sorts of testimonies from townspeople and facts and figures about why a town school was needed again. Ever since the drought had shut down the school, the children who remained with their families in Last Chance had needed to make do with instruction at home. And with mothers more worried about putting food on the table than teaching arithmetic, Marian feared an entire generation was growing up without schooling. But that would no longer be a problem!
How long would it take to set up the school? she wondered as she turned left onto the road that led to her family’s home at the edge of town. Could she do it in a week? Marian bit her lip. It was possible, if she could make do with books and things already available in town. And if the old hat shop wasn’t in too bad of shape.
How many children might attend? Marian mentally went through each family she knew in town. There were more she didn’t know yet, now that Last Chance was slowly revitalizing. Ever since Hart Chapman had brought his water-digging machine last summer, the town was coming back to life. It seemed as if Marian saw a new face every day.
She waved hello to Belle Moore, who passed on a horse. Belle had two young cousins who lived on their family’s ranch. Marian hadn’t considered the children on the farms and ranches outside of town. She smiled, thinking of the Wendler family’s large brood. If each of those children came, she’d need an assistant!
It was taking far too long to get home. Marian thought she’d burst with the news before she arrived. But at least it was closer than the small farm where they used to live. Her father had given up trying to coax crops from the parched ground two years ago. He let the bank take the property and moved his family to a tiny house on the edge of town.
Marian forced away the sadness—and the guilt—that lurked in those memories. The farm hadn’t mattered much to her—she and her sister rather enjoyed being in town, and she suspected Mama did too—but losing the land had devastated Papa. That farm had been his dream, just as teaching school had always been Marian’s.
Perhaps now her dream would help her father—and her entire family. And maybe she wouldn’t need to feel as if her hopes had somehow led her father to fail at his own.
She urged her legs to move even more quickly. Slipping between two houses, she scurried across an empty field. This was faster than taking the road, and Marian thought she’d burst if she had to keep the news of the school to herself any longer.
Lost in thought, she didn’t notice the man until she was nearly across the barren field. He was standing behind the house just down the road from her own—a house that used to belong to the Smith family, but now was one of several empty homes in town.
Marian slowed, squinting as she tried to recognize him. But try as she might, she couldn’t place him. What was he doing back there?
He seemed to straighten when he saw her. Marian debated a moment. She could turn and go back the way she came to take the long way home. But she was so close now. And it was the middle of the day. How many ne’er-do-wells were out and about in broad daylight? This fellow was likely lost, or perhaps he’d taken to the field for a picnic lunch.
Marian continued, vaguely aware of how ridiculous her last justification sounded. She’d simply move quickly and take a wide berth around him. Then she’d be home before she knew it.
“Pardon me, miss.” The man’s voice carried toward her as she circled around him. “Miss?”
Maybe he was lost after all. Marian paused, and the man hurried toward her.
“Pardon me,” he said again. This close, Marian saw his beard was untrimmed and his clothes and hat were dirty. Her heart went out to him. How long must he have been traveling?
“Yes?” she asked.
“It embarrasses me to ask, but do you have a few coins to spare? I haven’t eaten in days.” His watery blue eyes searched her face.
Money was scarce at the Scott house, and Marian’s reticule served more as a shabby accessory than as anything practical these days. But perhaps she could help him another way. “I’m sorry, I don’t. But we’re near my home, and I’m certain we have some bread and jam we could give you.”
The man didn’t return her smile. “I don’t much care for jam.”
Marian didn’t know what to say to that. But before she could open her mouth to reply, the fellow had reached toward her and wrapped his hand around the blue floral reticule that hung from her wrist.
She yelped in surprise as she yanked her hand away. But it was too late—the man had already grabbed hold of the worn fabric.
“Let go!” she shouted as the frayed ribbons dug into her wrist.
He said nothing, only pulling harder. Marian’s heart beat hard against her chest. She ought to just let it go. After all, it only contained a handkerchief and an empty coin purse. But an indignant anger rose inside her, and her stubborn side refused to give in to this thief who had played on her sympathies.
