“Did your ma make your dress, Miss Williams?” little Clara asked, fingers brushing against the fabric in awe.
“She did,” Barbara nodded, her voice imbued with pride. “She’s an excellent seamstress. She’s always said that knowing how to create and mend our clothes is a form of strength. A skill that can carry us through tough times.”
“Ma says we’re lucky to have you,” Clara said earnestly, her gaze fixed on Barbara with something akin to reverence.
“Tell your ma I’m grateful,” Barbara replied, her heart swelling. “And I’m the lucky one, to have a mother like mine and students like all of you.” As she watched Clara skip back to her seat, the sense of gratitude for her mother’s teachings filled her.
“All right, class,” Barbara announced, “let’s continue with our lessons.”
Barbara wiped the last of the chalk dust from the board, her movements sure and efficient. The sun streamed through the windows of the one-room schoolhouse, setting aglow the motes of dust that danced in its beams. She paused, the rag in her hand forgotten for a moment, as she gazed out at the vast sky. It stretched endlessly above, promising both adventure and adversity on this untamed frontier.
“Miss Williams?” piped up a small voice, breaking her reverie. Barbara turned to see little Annie Jenkins, her eyes wide with curiosity.
“Yes, Annie?” Barbara asked, tucking a loose strand of dark hair behind her ear.
“Will you tell us a story about when you and our mas and pas crossed the plains?” Annie’s eyes sparkled with anticipation.
“I will, but after we finish our arithmetic,” Barbara promised, her heart warmed by the child’s eagerness. She’d been as young as her students when she’d embarked on the trek that had changed her life forever. It was fun to tell them about the books that they would find that another child had left behind.
As she helped Annie back to her seat and watched the children bent diligently over their slates, a quiet reflection settled over her. Her thoughts wandered to the kind of partnership she longed for. She envisioned love as expansive as the open land around her, rooted in shared dreams and tempered by the realities of life.
Barbara knew well that any union she formed would need to withstand the uncertainties of the West. She dreamed not of grand romantic gestures but of loyalty and hands of support that could transform a plot of earth into a home.
Barbara surveyed the room. She moved between the wooden desks with ease, her skirts swishing softly over the planked floorboards, as she leaned down to correct a held pencil or to point out a passage in a well-thumbed reader.
“Josiah,” she called out gently, guiding the young boy’s hand as they traced the curves and lines of his letters. “Like this.” Barbara demonstrated the correct way to make a z for what must have been the fiftieth time that week.
Before ringing the bell to signal the end of the school day, Barbara gathered her students for one last message. “Remember,” she said, “the trail westward is not just made by wagons and boots, but by the dreams we dare to dream and the knowledge we carry in our heads and hearts.”
The children filed out, their voices a chorus of goodbyes and thanks, leaving Barbara alone with her thoughts. She took a moment to straighten the rows of desks, to dust the chalk from her hands.
She stepped outside, she felt rather than heard, someone walking beside her. She turned to see Harvey Bedwell there. “My brother Tommy,” Harvey said, shaking his head. “I hear he’s causing some problems at school.”
“He’s decided he’s in love with the pastor’s little girl.” Barbara shook her head. “Unfortunately, that doesn’t mean that he brings her gifts and holds her hand at recess. No, for Tommy, love is chasing her around the schoolyard throwing pinecones at her until she falls and tears her dress.”
Harvey laughed, shaking his head. “We all figured the one acting like that would be Charles, but Tommy is too smart to be that dumb. Katie asked me to spend the day at school with him tomorrow. I’m not sure if me telling him how to court a girl is going to be much help. Would you mind if I brought you flowers in the morning? That way I can demonstrate to Tommy how to show you care about someone in a respectful way.”
Barbara laughed. “If you think I’m going to tell you that you can’t bring me flowers, then you’re crazy.”
“I’ll admit to crazy. Just don’t say I’m crazier than Tommy.”
“Never!”
As he walked away, Barbara was excited. Having Harvey around for a day would be perfect. She sure did like him.
Chapter Two
As Barbara dressed the following morning, she paid a great deal more attention to her appearance than she did on most of her days teaching, selecting the dress usually reserved for Sundays. She brushed her dark hair until it gleamed, pinning it up with care so no strand was out of place. Her gray eyes studied her reflection critically, searching for any detail out of turn.
She set off for the schoolhouse with her books clutched against her chest. As she walked, she pinched her cheeks to give them a bit of color. She may be spending the day teaching, but Harvey would be there, and she hoped he would notice her as someone more than his younger siblings’ teacher.
Harvey Bedwell, the strength of his back forged by years of farming, was already there as she neared the school, leaning casually against the sun-warmed wood of the building.
Their eyes met, and Harvey’s lids lowered in a slow wink that sent an unbidden warmth rushing to Barbara’s cheeks. Her blush was as involuntary as the smile tugging at the corners of her lips. In that simple gesture, he acknowledged the extra care she’d taken this morning.
“Morning, Miss Williams,” Harvey said.
“Good morning, Mr. Bedwell,” she replied, her heart fluttering. “A fine day for learning, wouldn’t you say?”
