Romancing the Schoolteacher (16 page)

“Zachariah, I'd like you to meet Lindley Thompson. He's my right-hand man. He's the one who's been working here at the mine for the past few months. And this is his sweetheart, Bridget Greene. And this is Zachariah March.”

Bridget choked on her punch. March? Oh, dear. She coughed.

Lindley patted her back. “Are you all right?”

She nodded. “Fine.” She cleared her throat. “Just swallowed wrong.” Where could she run to and hide? But it was already too late.

Mr. March took her hand and bowed over it. “Miss…
Greene
, was it?”

He knew it wasn't, but he hadn't given her away. Yet. “Mr. March.” She struggled to give a polite smile.

“It is a delight and pleasure to meet you. Please call me Zach.” He winked.

She gave a nod of assent. “And you may call me Bridget. If you gentlemen will excuse me, please.” She walked away, her stomach twisting violently. Though Zach's wife was her friend, she didn't know him well enough to know if he would keep her secret.

The room seemed to grow suddenly hot and stifling, so she hurried outside for some fresh air.

A groomsman met her gaze. “May I help you, miss?”

“No, I'm fine.” She slowed her pace and strolled to the end of the wide porch. She drew in several deep breaths to calm herself.

What if Zach was telling Lindley and Gabriel she wasn't really Miss Greene? Maybe she shouldn't have left the men alone. Should she go back inside? Or just leave?

Coming had been a bad idea. She should have confessed to Lindley. She had tried to at the schoolhouse yesterday but had been interrupted. If she had told him, then she would know if his feelings were true. Now, if he found out from someone else, from Zach, he would only feel betrayed.

She had to get away from here. She would pack her things and leave before Zach could tell anyone about her.

No. She had to find Lindley and tell him before anyone else did. He deserved to hear the truth from her.

No. Not at the party. That would spoil his evening. Unless her past didn't bother him. But not telling him would bother him. She had to at least try to talk to Lindley.

“Bridget!”

She stopped at the sound of Zach's voice and turned slowly to him. She was caught.

He strolled up to her. “Bridget
Greene
.” He tested her name in his mouth. “It has a nice ring to it. But then, so does Bridget
Thompson
.”

He was toying with her.

“Are you in love with him?”

What did that matter? “What do you want?”

“You didn't answer my question.”

Dare she answer? “Yes, I love him.”

“Does he love you?”

What did he intend to do with the information? “Yes.”

A broad smile broke across his face. “Good. I'll tell Fina. You really should write her more.”

She hadn't dared for fear a letter might get intercepted by someone who would divulge her whereabouts.

“Don't look so worried. I won't tell anyone.”

“You won't? Why not?”

“Fina would be impossible to live with. When she's angry, she has a
very
long memory. It's best to let her have her way. As stubborn as a mule.”

She relaxed at his friendly tone. “I just might tell her you said that.”

“It's nothing she doesn't already know.”

“Didn't she come with you?” She would love to see her dear friend.

“Regrettably, no. She came down with a terrible stomach ailment the day before we were to leave. Doctor ordered bed rest.”

“Nothing too serious, I hope?”

“She was already feeling better, but the trip would have worn her out.”

“Give her my best. And tell her I'll write soon.”

“I will. She will be sorry she couldn't come.” He offered her his arm. “Now let me escort you back inside. Unless there is someone else you were running away from.”

Not that she knew of. She took his arm.

* * *

Lindley's turn to dance with Bridget. He bowed in front of her. “May I have this dance?”

She gave him a playful smile. “I thought you didn't dance.”

Lindley smiled and guided her to the middle of the floor. “I'll make an exception for you.”

She put her left hand on his shoulder and raised her other one for him to take.

He liked having her in his arms. His pulse picked up speed. Leading her in the first steps of the waltz, he wondered where she had learned the dance. When would a simple schoolteacher have had the opportunity?

After once around the floor, he asked, “Zachariah March. You know him?”

She took a quick breath. “'Twas your father-in-law who introduced him.”

He hadn't missed her slight hesitation before she'd answered. And she hadn't exactly answered him. He wouldn't have thought much about the introduction had he not seen the two talking moments later on the porch. Then he had thought back to Zach's comment.
Miss
Greene
, was it?

The two knew each other. But how?

L
indley walked to the schoolhouse on Monday to see Bridget. She had said she would be cleaning the building today.

On Friday, when he'd apologized, he hadn't spoken from his heart as Cilla had told him to do. He had merely said words. And he hadn't groveled nearly enough. Hardly at all. Bridget had made apologizing easy. And he hadn't told her how he felt about her.

Now Zachariah March had shown up. He had spoken to her in a rather friendly manner after church. And he meant something to her. Lindley just didn't know how. But if he didn't want to lose her to this man, he needed to let Bridget know exactly how he felt and what his intentions were.

She came out the door with a bucket and tossed the water onto the ground next to the stoop. She had a scarf tied around her auburn hair and wore a plain gray shirt and brown plaid skirt. Not a very attractive outfit. She had obviously dressed for her day of cleaning. She wiped the back of her hand across her forehead.

He sighed. She was so beautiful no matter what she wore. He moved toward her.

She looked up, grimaced and took a step back as though to flee inside. She smoothed a hand down her skirt, swiped off her head scarf and touched her hair.

He stopped at the foot of the steps. “You look beautiful.”

“No, I don't.”

“Yes, you do.”

“The Good Book says, ‘Thou shalt not lie.'”

He clapped his hand over his heart. “'Tis no lie. You are beautiful to me.”

“I'm a mess.”

He took the pail from her, set it on the top step and grasped her hand. He wanted to ask her again about Zachariah March but suspected that conversation wouldn't end any better than the one about his arranged marriage. “When I came to apologize on Friday, I didn't say all I wanted to.”

Cilla had told him to speak from his heart. He hadn't really understood then what she meant, but he did now.

He pointed to the steps. “Would you like to sit?”

“What I'd like to do is run and hide.” She glanced at her head scarf she had gripped tightly in her free hand. “Very well.” She sat.

He removed his hat and sat next to her, keeping her hand firmly in his. “You needn't worry. No amount of dirt can hide how pretty you are. As you told me the first time I came to your house to retrieve my children, ‘It's just dirt.'”

She dropped her scarf on her lap. “You're right. I'm being foolish.”

“I like that it matters to you how you look in my presence.”

Her cheeks turned pink. “Now I really feel foolish.”

He caressed the back of her hand with his thumb. “Please don't.”

Did he have the courage to tell her? He wanted to. He took a deep breath. From his heart. “I love you.”

She smiled and then frowned. “Oh, Lindley. I…I need to tell—”

“Shh.” He knew she might not feel the same way about him yet. He didn't want to rush her. He cupped her face in his hands. “You don't have to say anything.” He pressed his lips to hers.

She didn't resist and kissed him back. She wouldn't have responded like that if Zachariah March meant something to her romantically, would she?

He pulled back. “I love you so much. It's okay if you don't know yet. I don't want to pressure you. I just wanted—no,
needed
you to know how I felt.” Now did he also have the courage to ask? He hoped this was the right time. “I never contemplated marrying again after Doreen died. But you have made me consider things I had never thought of before.”

Her expression held both hope and concern. Joy and pain.

“You don't have to answer right away, but I want you to know how much you mean to me. I want you to be my wife. Will you—”

A high-pitched, bloodcurdling scream from somewhere in town split the air.

A chill coiled around Lindley's spine. He jerked his head around. “Dora!”

“No. How do you know?”

“I just do.” He took off at a run. Fear stampeded through him in a rush, pushing him faster. The impact of each footfall vibrated up his body, stabbing him in the heart.

“Mr. Thompson!” Troy ran down the street toward him. The boy stopped in front of him and put his hands on his thighs, doubling over to catch his breath.

Lindley put a hand on the boy's shoulder. “Take it easy. Catch your breath. Then tell me what's wrong.” He prayed it wasn't Dora. But why else would the boy be coming to him? Not Gabe.
Lord, please let my children be safe.

Troy sucked in several ragged breaths. “You have to come— Quick— Your daughter— Dora— A horse— She's hurt— Hurt bad.”

Lindley's heart and chest twisted into a tight, painful knot. He had hoped he was wrong. Not his little girl. “Where?”

Troy sucked in another breath. “Hotel.”

Lindley ran as fast as he could, pain shooting through his bad leg. But he would not stop. Would not slow until he knew Dora was safe. But Troy had already told him she wasn't.

In front of the hotel, a crowd huddled in the street.

He couldn't hear Dora crying. Certainly, if she were hurt, she would be crying. Maybe she was fine, and Troy had overreacted. He pushed his way through the mass.

The doctor and Cilla knelt beside the motionless form of his daughter.

Lindley's throat constricted, nearly cutting off his air. She wasn't moving. His baby wasn't moving. He fell to his knees. No! Not his little girl. He smoothed blond hair from her pinched face.

“I'm sorry, Lindley,” Cilla cried. “I only looked away for a moment.”

He couldn't look at his sister right now. His gaze fixed on Dora's labored breathing. Up-down. Up-down. Up-down.

The doctor put his hand on Lindley's shoulder. “I think she fainted from the pain.”

“Pain?” he choked out.

Dr. Unger pointed to Dora's leg.

Lindley gasped at her willowy, stockinged calf bent in the wrong place. His own leg shot with pain. He knew the kind of agony she was in. His boyhood memory of writhing in the street crashed over him, knocking the wind out of his lungs. He struggled to breathe. “What happened?”

“Horse spooked. Reared,” a voice in the crowd said.

Another voice said, “Fortunate it was her leg and not her head.”

Lindley glared at the man. “Fortunate?” There was nothing fortunate about a broken leg. His own leg throbbed with stabbing pain. Was it real? Or just the memory?

“I'm sorry,” Cilla said. “I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry.”

Dr. Unger cleared his throat. “Let's get her to my office.”

Two men brought a wide plank. “We can carry her on this.” The crowd parted, and they set the board next to Dora's still form.

The doctor and another man reached for Dora.

Lindley pushed their hands away. “Don't touch her!”

* * *

Out of breath, Bridget finally reached a crowd in front of the hotel. Gabe stood a few feet back, silent tears running down his face. Bridget knelt beside him and touched his arm. “Are you all right, Gabe?”

He jerked away and ran off.

“Gabe!” She wanted to go to Lindley, who she presumed was in the middle of the throng, but someone needed to see to Gabe.

Troy came up beside her. “I'll go after him.”

“Thank you,” Bridget said.

“I'll make sure he's all right. Safe.” Troy trotted off in the direction Gabe had gone.

Bridget pushed her way through the crowd until she could see Dora lying on the dirt. She slapped her hand over her mouth.

Kneeling beside his daughter, Lindley held her little hand in one of his large ones and stroked her hair with the other.

Oh, dear! She wasn't— Bridget didn't want to think such a thing. So she stared at the girl's chest. It rose and fell in short, difficult breaths. She was alive. But what had happened?

Cilla sat in the dirt across from Bridget, tears streaming down her face. “I'm sorry.” She shifted her gaze to Dora's leg.

Bridget looked as well and gasped. The leg was severely broken. The poor child must be in so much pain. No wonder her breathing came in catches. Tears sprang to Bridget's eyes.

“I'm so, so sorry.” Cilla rocked back and forth.

The doctor, on the other side of Dora, reached for her little arm. “Mr. Thomp—”

“I said don't touch her!”

The doctor withdrew his hand and glanced up at Bridget. “We need to get her to my office.”

Bridget blinked away her tears. This was no time for her to cry. Lindley needed her. She crouched beside him and gently placed her hand on his arm. “We need to get her out of the street. Let them move her.”

He was silent for a moment and then nodded. “I'll do it.” He tucked one hand under her neck. The other hesitated by her knees.

Bridget supported the injured leg at the ankle and knee. She couldn't see any blood. That was good. That meant the bone hadn't broken through the skin.