A Texas Christmas Reunion Read online

“You just said he sought you out.”

  Nannie shook her head. Blond curls shivered at her temples.

  “That’s how much you know about men, Juliette! He did seek me out after I put myself in the position to be sought out.”

  “What was Trea doing in the alley?”

  “For being so busy, you sure do have a lot of questions.” A fact she could not honestly deny, so did not try. “He was trying to coax a puppy to come out from under the back stairs of the saloon.”

  “What kind of puppy?”

  “Brown, maybe. But really, Juliette, who cares? The important thing is that he’s still a bit in love with me.”

  “Why would you think so?”

  Nannie hadn’t matured so much over the years that vanity was not still her guiding star.

  “I could see it in his eyes, in the way he smiled at me. And he apologized for the past, the way he treated me.” Nannie wrapped her arms around her middle and swayed back and forth. “I doubt you’d understand, but some of us women can feel it when a man is interested. I was tingling way down in—oh, never mind—you could not possibly know.”

  In spite of the fact that she had been a married woman? Really, Juliette knew quite a lot about tingles and what they led to.

  Honestly, there were times when she wanted to shake common sense into her—well, her friend, when all was said and done.

  Now was one of those times.

  So she could not help but say, “How do you know about tingles, Nannie?”

  “I’ve read about them in books. Frankly, it wouldn’t hurt for you to spend an hour to two a day with The Romantic Adventures of a Milkmaid. Thomas Hardy knows of what he writes. I’ll bring you my copy tomorrow.”

  “Milkmaid?” she murmured, then stared in silence. This was absurd, even for Nannie.

  Nannie waved her hand in front of her face. “No need for thanks. I doubt if I’ll have need of Mr. Hardy now that Trea is back in town.”

  This conversation was not going anyplace Juliette intended to travel.

  “Oh, look at the time.” She glanced pointedly at the mantel clock that was among the few things that she’d kept of Mrs. Pugley’s. “I’d best dash over to the café. The babies will be getting hungry.”

  Nannie trailed behind Juliette as she walked toward the lobby door.

  “Apparently I’ve wasted my breath giving you the news. You never did give Trea the time of day, anyway.”

  “As much as I’d love to chat about it,” Juliette said, closing the front door behind them, “I’ve got to get back to my children.”

  “Watch out, Juliette. Infants have been known to dash a woman’s hope of any sort of social life.”

  * * *

  Trea had to take a breath, hold it, then discreetly let it out. He’d anticipated this, standing in front of his students for the first time, and it was as unnerving as he’d thought it would be.

  “Good morning, children. Welcome back to the classroom.”

  Fifteen students heard his greeting, one returned it.

  “Good morning, Mr. Culverson,” Cora said from her desk in the front row.

  The boy sitting behind Cora stared at the bow tied neatly at the end of her braid. He made phantom threats by clenching his fist and making a yanking gesture. The kid meant mischief. This one would bear constant watching. Having been that boy at one time, he knew he was not mistaken about this student.

  The children, a nearly equal mix of girls and boys, spanned the ages of about six through fourteen.

  The older students stared at him in silence. The younger ones looked out the windows where their mothers peered through the glass.

  It was hard to blame the ladies for their curiosity. A teacher new to the profession was something to wonder about. But one who had been a former student and hell-raiser?

  It was no wonder they braved the chill to peer through the glass at their children.

  He crossed the room, opened the door and went out onto the porch.

  “Feel free to come inside where it’s warmer,” he announced. “I’ll explain what we will be doing this year and what the students will be learning.”

  Seven mothers came inside.

  One did not. She glared heatedly at him, turned with a sharp snap of her skirt and marched away through a mist that hung heavy on the ground.

  She looked familiar but he did not recall her name. Clearly, she remembered him, and not fondly.

  There was nothing to do about that now but move on. To instruct her child and hope that one day she would look at him without resentment.

  His mentor, Mr. Newman, had warned him that his walk toward redemption would be all uphill. On its own, teaching young minds would be a challenge, but given what his reputation in this town had been—he was half out of breath before he even began the climb.

  He spent an hour telling the parents and the students what he would teach and what he would expect of them throughout the year, at school and at home.

  Finished with the ABCs and American history, he talked about the Christmas pageant, how they would learn songs and poetry, and perform them in front of the parents. The children seemed interested, but it was the mothers who appeared to be the most pleased.

  All around the room he saw them smile in anticipation of something fun to look forward to.

  The one exception was the boy who sat behind Cora. He’d learned the boy’s name was Charlie Gumm. Charlie sat at his desk, arms folded over his chest, snickering.

  And why not? There was no parent standing in the back of the room beaming in pride at him.

  This boy, this young and troubled prankster, was the reason Trea had become an educator. Of course, salvaging his reputation had been part of it, too—but keeping troubled children from doing what he had done was more of it.

  “Today, being the first day and the weather so threatening, I’m dismissing class early.”

  A cheer of young voices rang out. Even young Gumm’s sneer slipped to a grin.

  “I’ll see you all first thing in the morning. Tonight I want each of you to think of your favorite Christmas songs and stories. Bring your ideas and we’ll begin rehearsing.”

  The children rose, making a lot of noise as they did. Many of them joined their mothers in the back of the room, getting hugs and pats on the head.

  “Mr. Gumm,” he said, interrupting the boy’s dash toward the door. “A word with you, please.”

  “I didn’t do nothin’.” Slowly Charlie shuffled toward the front of the classroom, cutting a path through the children moving toward the door. “I swear I didn’t. You won’t tell my ma that I did, will you?”

  “If you didn’t do anything, there’s nothing to tell, is there?”

  “No! But sometimes—”

  Sometimes he was blamed for things—yes, Trea knew a good bit about that.

  Staring hard at the floor, Charlie scuffed the toe of his boot on wood that seemed to defy Trea’s best efforts to polish it to a shine. The boy had made that movement often, if the hole in the leather was anything to go by.

  “I was not suggesting you had done anything wrong, Mr. Gumm.” Trea reached forward to touch the boy’s shoulder in reassurance, but the child jerked backward.

  Trea did not need to be told that Charlie’s mother was rough with him. His expression all but shouted it.

  How many times had Trea worn that wary look on his own young face?

  “I only want to ask for your help with something. After that I’ll walk you home.”

  “I don’t want to be walked home like some baby.”

  “All right, then. But I do need your help and I’ll pay you a dollar for it.”

  “What is it you want? That’s a heap of money.”

  “There’s a pup I’ve been trying to coax out from under the porch over at The Suzie Gal, but it won’t
come to me. I figure it might come to you, though. It might trust a boy your age.”

  “Reckon it might come to me. Animals like me more than people do.”

  “I do thank you, Charlie.”

  “Wouldn’t want the poor critter to be left out in the cold, so I don’t mind. Just...don’t give me money. Mam will only think I stole it and give me a stropping.”

  Chapter Six

  At the back door of the café, Juliette kissed Joe’s cheek and then Lena’s.

  She did the same to Father Lindor, even though his reaction was to grunt unhappily.

  “Don’t know why you are sending me home with these strangers.”

  “They aren’t strangers. You know Rose and Cora McAllister. They live with us now.” She didn’t explain that it was only for another day or two, and then he, she and the children would be moving into their quarters at the hotel. “I’ll be home in just a bit.”

  Rose led Warren by the elbow while Cora pushed the carriage the short distance to the house.

  Fog swallowed them up when they were only yards from the back door.

  Still, she heard her father-in-law’s voice carrying through the mist.

  “I’ll just make a short stop at The Fickle Dog, young woman.”

  “Oh, they’ve closed for the night, Mr. Lindor,” Juliette heard Rose answer.

  Shivering, she hurried back inside the café.

  Welcome warmth wrapped around her as she approached the big iron stove.

  Stirring the large pot of stew, she listened to the hum of conversation coming from the dining room.

  She loved her small café. Truly, it was her safe place in the world. Half a dozen times a day she thanked the McAllister girls for taking over the day-to-day running of it.

  One day, she imagined, she would feel the same way about her hotel.

  As it was now, the task she had undertaken nearly stole her breath. Did she honestly believe she could rescue her town by reviving the place—by making it a wholesome gathering spot for families?

  She had to, whether she believed it or not. She had invested nearly all her money—and her family’s future—in it.

  Perhaps she ought to have given more thought to the fact that her hotel, no matter how fine she made it, was knee to knee with saloons and they were not going away.

  “I’ve packed a few things.” A woman’s voice carried to the café kitchen from the dining room. “I’d hoped to be gone by Christmas, but now my Anna is all in a rapture about singing in the Christmas pageant at school. I couldn’t bear to break her heart, so I imagine I’ll be here until the New Year.”

  “Adelaide Jones!” Sarah Wilcox’s voice declared. “I saw the way you were looking at the new schoolmaster yesterday afternoon—I think you are half sweet on him.”

  Sarah and her family had only lived here for three years, but that had been enough. They were moving along with the others.

  Adelaide had a great, wonderful laugh and it rang through the dining room. “Oh, I’m completely loyal to my Ned. But one cannot avoid the obvious, and the schoolmaster is a very handsome fellow. Besides, Nannie Breene has quite set her cap for him.”

  “She’s always been mad for him, Adelaide.” Juliette glanced through the window-like opening between the kitchen and the dining room to see Flora Brown speaking between sips of tea. “Back in school she was infatuated with him.”

  “Oh, what a bunch of foolishness it was,” Levi Silver added. “As I recall, all the girls were. The only one of you who showed any sense around him was Juliette. Now, back to the point we were discussing. I’m in favor of making our move before Christmas.”

  “I hate to see you go, at all, any of you,” Flora said.

  “And I hate to go,” answered Levi. “But this town—it’s dying.”

  “It will if everyone moves away,” Flora insisted. “But now that Juliette’s bought the hotel it might make a difference. Maybe if she makes it as homey and clean as the café—if we had a pleasant place to gather as a—”

  The front door opened and Sheriff Hank strode inside. The scent of cold fog clung to him.

  Juliette came out of the kitchen to greet her customer.

  “What can I get for you, sheriff?”

  “Whatever you have that smells so good back there in the kitchen, I’ll have that. It’s colder than all get-out outside.”

  “Are those cousins of yours still in our jail?” Levi asked.

  “US Marshal took them away yesterday.”

  Luckily, she only detected a bit of regret in his voice.

  Beaumont Spur was not protected by the most noble of men. Perhaps if he were more reliable, people would not be so quick to move somewhere else.

  “Just so you know, we are not cut off the same bolt of cloth, me and my cousins. No, sirree, they seek out crime—I hunt it down.”

  Juliette set a bowl of stew before him and he patted his belly.

  “In fact, I’m out this late because I’m investigating a crime.”

  Sheriff Hank glanced about, apparently waiting for someone to commend him on his effort.

  “The bank robbery?” she asked, because it seemed that someone ought to make a comment. And what a shame he hadn’t felt the need to chase down the criminal when the crime was taking place.

  He shook his head, licked the spoon. “Leif over at the general store is missing a can of kerosene.”

  “Perhaps he misplaced it,” she noted.

  “Naturally, that was the first thing I asked. He vowed it wasn’t so. And the worrisome thing is that new fellow, the schoolteacher—didn’t he burn down the livery a while back?”

  “Sheriff.” Juliette wondered if her face was as red-hot as her temper. “It was not a while back. It was years ago, and it came to light later that the fire was caused by accident.”

  “He did run...” Levi pointed out.

  “Away with Nannie’s heart,” Flora said with a giggle. “And maybe mine.”

  “Really, sheriff.” Adelaide set her teacup on the table with a decided click. “Chances are the kerosene was misplaced, maybe at the worst borrowed.”

  “No one borrows from the general store, ma’am. It’s called theft and I mean to get to the bottom of it, and I say Mr. Culverson bears watching. If he’s anything like his father—well, I’d be negligent in my duty if I did not suspect him. Besides, we had a fire only a couple of weeks ago.”

  “It’s time to close up.” That announcement sounded more curt than Juliette had intended. Her customers looked in question at one another but rose slowly and shuffled toward the door.

  “The thing to keep in mind about that fire,” Juliette said, staring at the back of the sheriff’s coat, “is that the house that burned belonged to Mr. Culverson, and he wasn’t even back in town when it happened.”

  “I didn’t realize he was the one to have bought it,” Flora said, glancing back at the sheriff as she went out the door.

  “An investigation is an investigation,” Hank Underwood declared, thumping his boots on the floor going out the doorway.

  He pulled the door shut so she hurried across the dining room and yanked it back open. She could only half see him in the shrouding fog.

  “An investigation is not a witch hunt!” she called because she could not let the injustice of his attitude stand without rebuttal.

  * * *

  It was late when Trea looked up and realized he’d missed dinner. He must have been more involved in reviewing tomorrow’s lesson plan than he’d realized. From where he sat at his school desk, he had a clear, if distant, view of the café out the window. Well, it would have been clear had fog as dense as spilled milk not been pressing on the glass.

  But he was fairly certain that the café lamps had been doused only moments ago.

  “Sorry about that, sweet girl. I got so caught up in revi
ewing the Declaration of Independence that I lost track of time.”

  The puppy, half hidden in the blanket in front of the stove, opened her eyes. Her tall, pointed ears twitched and so did her nose. He couldn’t see her tail but he didn’t think it was wagging.

  She didn’t trust him yet. Luckily, she had trusted Charlie and gone to him without hesitation. Trea wondered if the pup would have made it through one more night in the elements given that she had a short, smooth coat that would not have kept her warm. Even if she did survive the cold, how long would it have been before she starved to death?

  Pushing away from the desk, he got up and stretched, then slowly approached the stove.

  He stooped and petted the dog. She could only be a few months old, poor thing. She’d eaten all of his lunch and her belly was round, but her ribs still bumped under his fingertips.

  “There ought to be a law against abandoning innocent animals.”

  Slowly, gently, he scooped her up and tucked her under his chin. He walked to the window, peered into the fog. Everything looked vague, wavering, but he thought he spotted the shape of a bush, or the boulder at the curve of the path leading to the little red schoolhouse.

  “How would you like to be a schoolhouse dog? I think the children would enjoy having you here.”

  She didn’t tremble when he touched her. That was something. He breathed in her puppy smell then chuckled.

  He’d seen Juliette breathe in the scent of her babies the same way.

  A shadow appeared in the fog about ten yards out, passing by the tree swing.

  Not a bush or a boulder, but a woman. Perhaps he ought to lock the door and pretend he was not here. The last thing he wanted was an after-hours visit from the mother of a student—or worse, a girl from his past.

  And the last thing he could afford was the suggestion of impropriety. A schoolmaster must appear beyond reproach in every way.

  That was especially true for him, given that he had a bad reputation to live down.

  Since the lamp on his desk and the fire in the stove were both burning brightly, it was impossible to pretend he was not here.

  Whoever it was, he’d send them away with some polite excuse that he was scouring his brain for.