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As he turned to glance out the window, Kate saw that his raven-black hair was tied at the nape with a leather thong. His clean-shaven jaw gave an appearance of strength.
No matter how irritated Kate was with herself over looking her fill, she was more chagrined to see that he studied her with equal interest—and equal reluctance.
“Mr. Trueblood, I presume? I’m Kate Steele, your daughter’s new teacher.” Kate tried to imagine what he was thinking. How did he feel about knocking off work early to come in for a meeting he probably considered frivolous? Clover’s dad struck her as a hard-nosed, no-frills kinda guy.
“I appreciate you making time to come talk about Clover,” Kate said. “I’ll try to be as brief as possible, but meanwhile, please be seated.” She indicated a folding chair she’d brought from home for this very occasion.
He hadn’t spoken since walking in and didn’t now. He merely dragged the chair out a foot or so farther from her desk and sat heavily, before hanging the flat-crowned hat he’d removed at the door over one knee.
At last he cleared his throat. “Clover’s a little bit of a thing, Ms. Steele. If she’s caused trouble for you in class, I’d have thought as a qualified teacher you’d know ways to deal with about any problem an eight-year-old girl could dish up.”
CHAPTER THREE
“I’M SORRY IF I DIDN’T MAKE myself clear in my note,” Kate said, trying not to stammer. What was wrong with him that he couldn’t see her only objective in asking to meet him was to help his daughter? “Clover is a very sweet child, Mr. Trueblood.” Kate leaned forward earnestly. “This conference isn’t because she’s caused trouble. I need enlightening about her past academic achievement.”
Ben adjusted the hat roosting on his knee and stiffened. “Marge said she gave you records on all the kids.”
“She did.” Kate unlocked a bottom desk drawer and walked her fingers along the hanging files she’d set up. “I’ll be happy to show you Clover’s record.” Extracting a thin folder, she removed a sheet and slid it across the desk.
He didn’t take it, or even examine it. Instead, he acted wary, or perhaps impatient, and sort of growled, “Why don’t you cut to the chase and tell me what you want Clover to do? Or what I should do?”
Again reaching into the hanging file, Kate brought out Clover’s work. She waved the sheaf of papers at Trueblood until he gingerly accepted it. A tiny smile flickered as he leafed through the pages. “These, uh, look pretty good to me,” he finally said. He took a longer look at a drawing of Kate. “She missed those little half-glasses you’ve got perched on your nose. Outside of that it’s the spitting image, I’d say.”
“Mr. Trueblood.” Exasperated, Kate snatched back the artwork. “Clover draws in great detail. The problem is that she did these and not her daily assignments.” Pointing toward the window, Kate described the bird incident.
“My buckaroos will tell you that Clover’s good with animals. For instance, if she says call the vet, my trail boss calls him. Sure enough, something’s always wrong.”
“I’d hoped you could shed light on the issue of her schoolwork. As you see, her previous teacher wrote next to nothing on her file. Mr. Sikes made progress notes on all of the other students. Did he ever talk to you about Clover’s performance in class?”
Ben got up and paced to the door and back, all the while rubbing at the back of his neck. “We had a talk after Sikes got called up by his army unit. He…said… Clover needs… She’s…not like other kids.”
Kate removed her reading glasses and watched the struggle going on within the man. “I can tell this isn’t easy for you to discuss. Does Clover’s problem stem from your separation, or is it a divorce? Problems in a marriage do affect the children.”
Ben’s head jerked up.
“I’m not prying,” Kate said softly. “I noticed Clover’s mother isn’t listed on her permanent record. Clover also told my son you’re at court in Boise a lot. And well, I’ve seen other students unable to handle a family split without counseling.”
His sudden scowl had Kate stuttering. “I…ah…realize you’d probably rather not discuss the failure of your marriage with a virtual stranger, but, teachers are like doctors, or lawyers. We need to be privy to family secrets in order to help your child.”
Feeling at a distinct disadvantage with Ben looming over her, larger than life, Kate snugged her wheelchair closer to the desk and sat up straight to give the appearance of being in control.
“I didn’t fail,” he said curtly. “At least not at marriage. I’m not married and never have been. I’ve been Clover’s only parent since she was maybe six hours old. She was left on my doorstep, or rather, on a pile of hay in my barn, by her parents—a couple of kids I saw running out of my barn. But if you’re looking to blame somebody for whatever the hell she’s doing or not doing, lay it on me.” Making a fist, Ben thumped his chest.
“There’s no need to swear.” Kate sounded heated, too. “This meeting isn’t about affixing blame, Mr. Trueblood.”
“Funny, it sounds like that to me, Ms. Steele. Why don’t you just spit out what it is you want Clover to do?”
“All right.” She tightened her laced fingers. “She’s having great difficulty with reading. At first I thought she might have dyslexia.” When he seemed shocked to silence, Kate added, “Dyslexia is where a person has problems with left versus right, or sees certain words backward. But information I located on dyslexia indicates a child would also have trouble doing math. Clover is a whiz at addition and subtraction. And her drawings aren’t indicative of a directionally challenged child. It’s hard to imagine that no one worried about this earlier.”
“A teacher, you mean?”
Kate shrugged. “Last year she should have started reading chapter books. In fact, she recognizes only a few simple words and doesn’t try to sound out others.”
“After Del Sikes left, the district sent materials for homeschooling. I was pretty tied up, so mostly my trail cook looked after Clover. He knows cattle and cooking. Well, he knows a lot more than that when it comes to nature and land and what makes people tick. You could say Lou saved me and my friend Percy Lightfoot from running wild or worse.” He’d begun to pace again.
“I see, I think. Well, I’ll need to evaluate her to find out where she went off track. It’s odd she missed learning to read, since she is proficient in math. If her problem turns out to be a more serious one, I assume the district has a psychologist who can administer those tests. It’ll help, Mr. Trueblood, if you begin preparing her for my evaluation.”
“Preparing her how?”
“Sit down with her every evening. Make Clover read to you. Make her sound out difficult words. As a parent you’ll be tempted to blurt out the words, but don’t do that. She has to figure them out herself.”
“I’m no teacher,” he said as he walked his hands around and around the brim of his hat. “Shouldn’t you be the one working with her?”
“If reading’s too difficult for Clover, she’s probably too embarrassed to raise her hand in class and ask me for help. I’ll give you three basic storybooks to take home. When she’s mastered these, here are the names of three more books I consider easy second-grade level. A library ought to have them.” Kate tore out a sheet of notebook paper and jotted three titles, then stuck the page in one of the storybooks and offered them to her visitor.
Ben reluctantly took the books. “I’m already spread too thin,” he said.
“Reading is vital. Surely we can agree on that.”
If he responded before he spun away and strode to the door, Kate missed his words.
A strange man, she thought. But, damn fine to look at.
Upset at the flutter of interest that tripped through her, she stuffed the papers in a drawer. That same lazy way of moving Ben had was what had first attracted her to Colton. Never again. No cowboy or buckaroo—or whatever the term in the area—was going to turn her head.
Kate noted that the basketball had quit thumping the wall behind her. Through the side window she heard Trueblood’s deep baritone mingled with the children’s higher pitched voices.
It wasn’t until she started her wheelchair motor, backed up and angled toward the window that it dawned on her—a streak of vanity had kept her from escorting Clover’s father to the door.
You didn’t want him to see you stuck in a wheelchair.
Kate grimaced. She would have hated seeing pity in his eyes.
As Danny’s voice reached her through the open window, Kate realized he hadn’t sounded this excited since they left Texas.
Handwheeling her chair to where she could see and not be seen, she discovered two things—the source of Danny’s pleasure and the reason she hadn’t heard the crunch of Trueblood’s tires on the pumice drive. A black gelding and a small palomino mare grazed under a stand of trees. Clover and her dad had ridden horses to this meeting.
Kate wished she could hear what Trueblood was telling Danny to keep him so totally enthralled. The trio had moved again, out of Kate’s range.
She didn’t have long to wait for an answer, however. The father and daughter swung into their saddles and cantered off. Danny tossed his basketball in the air, caught it, then loped toward the school, a jaunty swing to his step.
“Mom, Mom!” Danny burst through the door and whirled one direction then the other, searching for Kate, who hadn’t wanted him to catch her at the window.
“I’m at the cupboard taking inventory of construction paper. It won’t be long before the holidays and I need to be thinking of an art project that will interest all of you kiddos. Toss that basketball in the bin with the others and we can leave. Oh, will you grab my tote? I didn’t finish grading papers before Mr. Trueblood arrived.”
“Mom! I’m trying to tell you something. Ben…uh, Clover’s dad said I can call him that…he braided the coolest rope out of horsehair. He curries the manes and tails of his horses and sorts out strands by color. His rope looks like an old diamondback rattler. Clover’s learning to braid, but she can’t do patterns yet.” Danny hardly took a breath between sentences.
Kate watched him dash about the room, doing what she asked. Usually she had to remind him several times. Not tonight.
“Guess what else? They do have a kind of rodeo here. They call it a Rope and Ride. Ben said all of their events are judged by Old West rules. I’m not sure what that means exactly. It’s next spring. Will you take me?”
“Oh, Danny, I have no idea where they’d hold such an event.”
He followed her out, his feet barely touching the ground as he waited impatiently for her to lock the door and motor down the ramp. “I can get directions. ’Cause that’s the other thing. Will you take me to their ranch tomorrow? Or, I could ride Flame over. They’re gonna brand calves. They’re late because of a drought. Clover said we can ride washes looking for calves that got separated when they moved the herd to a winter land lease. What’s a land lease, Mom?”
Kate stopped levering herself into the driver’s seat. “A land lease is pasture a person can rent from the government. Although, I don’t know what that has to do with this conversation. Danny Royce Steele, why on earth wouldn’t you have come in and asked my permission before you made such elaborate plans?”
His chin jutted stubbornly as he connected the lift clamps to her wheelchair. “I knew if I came in and asked before they took off, you wouldn’t think about it. You’d just say no. Please, Mom? All I’ve done since we got here is help set up the house. I did everything you asked. This will be so cool. Besides, yesterday when I talked to Mimi, she said Flame will get fat and lazy if I don’t work him.”
Kate couldn’t ignore the change in Danny’s spirits. It was like daylight from dark. Until now it hadn’t really sunk in how downcast he’d truly become since the move. After talking to Ben, he looked like his old, happy self.
But letting him spend the day with cowboys made Kate’s head ache. She tried again to discourage him. “Danny, I have Clover’s address, but finding their ranch without a map could prove impossible on these back roads. I think you should wait.”
“I know where they live. You remember the road we turned off of to find the cabin—the fork with the first red bandanna? If we’d kept on that road we’d have gone straight to the Rising Sun. That’s Ben’s ranch. His brand is neat-o. Clover showed me how to draw it the other day. She said Bobbalou named the ranch and drew the brand. I think it used to be his land, or something.”
“Who on earth is Bobba…whatzit?” his mother asked.
“Their trail cook. His real name is Lou Bobolink, but everybody calls him Bobbalou. He’s Paiute Indian. Uh, maybe Ben is, too.” Danny hesitated, pondering that. “Did you see how he ties back his hair? Gosh, do you think Clover’s an Indian? She said Bobbalou is sorta her pawpaw.”
“The politically correct term is Native American, Danny. I’d say it’s very likely Clover and Adam Lightfoot are native. The Paiute are probably one of the local tribes.”
“It doesn’t matter, does it, Mom?” Danny turned toward her with a slight frown as Kate parked at their cabin. “If they’re Ind…uh, what you said.”
“No, honey, that doesn’t matter.” What did matter was how Ben Trueblood had invited her son to take part in branding without consulting her. That was so typical of something Colton would have done—never mind the impact it might have on others.
“So then it’s okay if I go spend the day with Clover? You’ll trailer Flame, huh? We hafta get up early. Clover said they start branding at five-thirty.”
“A.m.?” Kate gasped, but it was drowned outby the grinding of the lift as it lowered her wheelchair.
“Yes, in the morning.” Danny laughed. “That’s daybreak here, Mom. Pawpaw and me were out feeding his stock at daylight in Texas.”
Kate squelched a sigh and handed her book bag to Danny to carry inside. She wasn’t a layabout type, but this weekend she’d planned to grab an extra hour’s sleep, followed by a leisurely breakfast to celebrate the successful completion of her first week on the job. “I have to give this more thought, Danny. Don’t bring up the subject again until after I fix supper and we eat. I’ll make a final decision after you shower, before you go to bed. Have you thought about Goldie? She’ll miss you.”
“She’s a cow dog. I’ll take her along.”
“Not if you didn’t clear it with Clover’s father. All ranches operate differently, honey. If the Truebloods’ cattle aren’t used to being worked by dogs, it could even be dangerous. What if Goldie startled a rogue steer, or a not-so-nice mama cow?”
Danny dashed ahead to let out the dog from the screened back porch. The two then raced back around to the front of the house, where Kate was unlocking the door. Danny had two possibilities worked out. “If you’ve got Clover’s phone number, I’ll call and ask about bringing Goldie. Or, we can take her, and if Ben says she can’t stay, you’ll have company while I’m gone.”
“If I decide in favor of your scheme, you’ll be stuck with the second of your suggestions. The number I have for Clover’s dad is for messages only. Also, you’re forgetting I said no badgering, Danny, or it’s an automatic no.”
“Bro-ther!” He snapped his fingers at Goldie and the two headed for the corral. “I’m gonna exercise Flame, then feed him before supper.”
Tension edged up the back of Kate’s neck. If he’d asked to go anywhere else, she was sure she’d have said yes without qualm. But cows and roping? This was why she’d left Texas.
She went straight to the kitchen, turned on the oven, then pulled a premade dinner out of the fridge. Kate wished she did have a home phone number for Trueblood. She wouldn’t be shy about giving him a piece of her mind. He had no right to meddle in her life—to expect a kid Danny’s age to accept or decline an invitation. But maybe that’s how people operated here. Clover seemed awfully independent for her age. Come to think of it, was Ben even her legal guardian? It sounded as if he’d claimed her like a pound puppy. He’d sure flared up at the mention of a failed marriage. As if someone like him never failed at anything. Still, he had to be commended—single parenting wasn’t a picnic.
Kate found herself wondering why Trueblood wasn’t married. But, that was counterproductive. Besides, it had nothing to do with her.
Throughout dinner of meat loaf, mashed potatoes and sliced tomatoes, Danny spoke little, but watched his mother warily.
“I’m not going to bite you if you talk,” Kate finally said before serving the custard dessert. “I’m so relieved to have made it through the first week of school. But, Danny, you hear the kids’ perspective. How would they rate my first week? Be honest. I know kids talk about teachers on the playground.”
“Aw, Mom. It’s not fair to ask me to be your snitch just ’cause we’re related.”
The spoon Kate was using to dip custard wavered and a blob fell on the table. She made two nervous attempts to clear the mess, but it slid off and hit the floor. Goldie trotted over, licked the spot clean and wagged her tail as if asking for more. Kate sent the dog back to her corner.
“I thought things went well,” she said, pressing Danny. “Can you give me complaints without naming names? Otherwise, how will I fix the problem?”
Danny took the bowl and scooped out his own custard. “In a word, Mom, basketball.”
“What about basketball? I’ve devoted every break and most lunch hours to helping Terry, Ron, Mike and Adam sharpen their game.”
“That’s the trouble. Ain’t none of those guys lookin’ to be the next Kobe Bryant.”
“Ain’t is not a word recognized in this house, young man.” Kate sat back in her chair. “I’m being pushy, you mean?”
“Don’t get mad, but…yeah.”
“I thought they wanted to make the high-school varsity team.”
Danny turned red to the tips of his ears. “If you let on I said this, I’m gonna be so busted. They just wanna look cool. For the girls, see?”
“Girls?” Kate felt like a parrot, but she must’ve missed something.
“Shelly, Meg, Mary and a couple of their friends hang around acting dorky when the guys make baskets. It’s…like, so gross.” He made a face as he finished his custard and shoved back from the table. “I’m going to go shower. I know I’m not s’posed to ask, but…you are still thinking about taking me to the Rising Sun Ranch?”
The pleading in his eyes, mixed with an emotion that said he wasn’t holding out much hope, made the decision for Kate. She gently pushed back the lock of blond hair that drooped over his right eye. “It’ll be lonely here all day without you, sport. But, I need to prove I can get along on my own. I guess tomorrow will be a good test.”
“Really? Yippee!” He hugged the stuffing outof her, then danced around until his shouting and Goldie’s barking had Kate calling a halt.
KATE SET HER ALARM for four o’clock. Even so, Danny was up before her. She heard him outside hooking Flame’s trailer to the pickup. As she stifled a yawn, an image of Ben Trueblood’s handsome face came to mind. She didn’t want to feel this squiggly anticipation in her stomach at the prospect of seeing him today, but it was there.
Because she cared about the impression she made in the community, she took pains to use a curling iron on her broomstick-straight hair. She added a touch of color to her lips so she wouldn’t looked washed out in the red blouse she teamed with jeans. Not that she planned to get out of the pickup.
“Mom!” Danny slammed the front door and thundered down the hall. “Aren’t you up yet? I need something for breakfast.”
“And a lunch,” Kate said, meeting him and Goldie in the hall. She hoped Danny wouldn’t notice or comment on her makeup. As a rule she didn’t wear any.
“Clover said Bobbalou cooks biscuits, corn and meat or beans at lunch. All the buckaroos eat in shifts around a fire pit. It sounds like they do that all the time, not just at roundup like at Pawpaw’s.”
“I doubt they eat outside all the time, Danny. Mrs. Goetz said winters can be severe on this high plateau. Which reminds me, we need to find the box with our jackets and gloves.”
“Uh-huh, they live with the herd all the time,” Danny insisted.
Kate didn’t argue further. Frankly, it was too early. “How does toast, juice and instant oatmeal grab you?”
“Fine, can we just hurry? I already loaded Flame.”
