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On a slight platform sat a teacher’s desk and chalkboard, and behind the last row of desks, a small iron stove. Portraits of Presidents Washington and Lincoln graced the spaces between the windows, and an American flag hung proudly in the corner.
The air smelled stale, and dust covered everything and danced in the air. Savannah’s trailing skirt left a track as she made her way to the front of the room. Aware of Elias watching her, she sought for something intelligent to say. Nothing came to mind. She was too fuzzy-headed with fatigue.
The dog trotted up the aisle as if he owned the place, his nails clicking on the floor. He sniffed around the desks and sneezed. Savannah didn’t know much about dogs, but she did know they should stay outside. She kept a wary eye on him as she placed her hand on the back of the teacher’s chair. From here she was supposed to rule this little kingdom.
The crisis of confidence that she’d carried around since Girard had jilted her welled up and threatened to paralyze her. What had she been thinking to come so far from home?
“You might want to check out the list of rules for teachers. They’re posted by the blackboard.” Elias said it casually, but she sensed a challenge in his tone. Was she imagining things, or was she overlaying her insecurities onto him?
Scanning the paper tacked to the wall, she wilted inside. Clean the lamps, haul water, haul coal, scrub the floors and windows once a week, check the privies, clean the livestock shed, be circumspect in her behavior, attend church regularly, start the fire by seven each morning in cold weather so the room will be warm by eight. Savannah blinked. She’d never scrubbed a floor in her life, much less mucked out a stable or hauled coal.
This whole thing was a mistake. What had she been thinking? She wasn’t suited for any of this. The sinking feeling she’d been fighting for days grew in her middle. Fiercely, she battled it down. Somehow, some way she needed to regain her belief in herself. If she couldn’t do that, what future did she have anywhere?
“Tyler wanted me to give you this.” Elias spoke from just behind her, startling her. She whirled as he pulled a paper out of his back pocket. He walked to the desk, leaned over and blew, sending dust puffing into the air, then spread the sheet on the blotter. She followed him, trying to still her beating heart.
Her contract.
“You can fill it out now if you want.” He slid an inkwell and pen toward her. “Or you can read it over, think about it and weigh up if you really want to sign it. The stage will be back on Tuesday if you decide to leave.”
She frowned. “Why do you seem so eager for me to run away?” The man didn’t even know her. She might be a bit daunted, but he didn’t have to assume she was a failure before she even got started.
He parked his hip on the corner of the desk. “Maybe because I’ve been down this road before. The two teachers before you skedaddled the minute things got tough. The first one was a man—a city boy, I’ll grant you, but even he wasn’t tough enough to stick it out through one of our winters. The other was a girl.” Elias paused and rubbed the back of his neck. “She only stayed for a couple of months, and when she left, she didn’t even resign or say goodbye. Just hopped on the stage one morning and took off.” With a shrug, he paced a few steps down the aisle and then turned to look at Savannah once more. “She caused a lot of hurt...among the students and their families, I mean.
“And here you come, fresh from the South, a slip of a girl with a fancy paper that says she’s a teacher, but precious little else to recommend her for this job.” He took off his hat and swept his fingers through his hair. “I hate to see the parents and kids get all excited, only to have you walk away in a week or a month because life out here is harsher than you thought. Not to mention that my brother has a lot riding on you. Better you call it quits now than disappoint everyone.”
“What makes you think I will disappoint everyone?” She spoke through her tiredness and the tightness in her throat. “I graduated first in my class from normal school, and though I’ve never lived in Minnesota, I assume other women do? If they can, so can I.”
He threw his head back and laughed, the strong column of his throat rising from his open-necked shirt. “Miss Cox, I doubt you share anything other than gender with the women around here. They’re hardy Norwegian stock, hard workers, practical and used to getting by without much luxury. From the way you dress and the amount of baggage you brought, I surmise you’ve never been within a stone’s throw of milking a cow or plucking a chicken or hoeing a garden.”
“Well, it’s a good thing I’m not being hired to do any of those things.” She snatched the pen, dipped it in the inkwell and signed her name before her courage could wilt entirely under his criticism. “I will teach school and follow the rules, and if I need help, I’m sure I can find someone who won’t be as grudging and skeptical as you are.” She snapped the pen down on the desk, snatched up her parasol and marched toward the door.
She’d show him.
Savannah wanted to slam the schoolhouse door, but her aunt’s training in the fine art of being a lady came to her rescue in time. She climbed aboard the buckboard, snapped open her parasol against the ruthless sun and searched her reticule for her fan. Flicking it open, she cooled her hot cheeks.
He strolled down the steps, his shaggy canine on his heels, and took his seat with a long-suffering sigh, as if humoring a toddler in a tantrum.
Which made Savannah want to bite a nail in half. Sheriff Elias Parker would know the meaning of the word determination before this school year ended.
“Do all your fans and parasols match your dresses? Is that what’s in all these bags and boxes?”
That’s what he wanted to talk about? “Some of them match. I can’t see why it’s a concern of yours.” She regretted her sharp tone at once, but then again, he’d made no bones about how he felt about her qualifications. He seemed to think he could sum her up just by looking at her, so why couldn’t she do the same?
He fell silent.
When they finally approached a cluster of small buildings, Savannah found herself praying Elias would drive right by. A tiny abode, the size of the summer kitchen of Savannah’s house in Raleigh, sat in a dusty yard, and though it had a peaked, wooden roof and log walls, part of it appeared to be built right into a small hillside. Surely this wasn’t one of those horrid sod houses or dugouts of which she’d heard? Chickens pecked along a fence, and a row of laundry hung out on a line for all the world to see.
The sun bounced off the whitewashed cabin, nearly blinding her. At least the paint made it look clean and tidy. But it was so small. How many people lived here?
Too close for Savannah’s comfort, a pair of pigs rooted in a sty next to a sturdy-looking barn. The barnyard smells rising up in the summer sunshine had her flapping her fan. How did anyone stand it, especially in this heat? Not a tree broke the horizon for as far as she could see, though fields of corn and wheat rustled in the breeze. What she wouldn’t give for some decent shade and a glass of iced lemonade.
A woman emerged from the house, wiping her hands on her apron. She had her blond braids wrapped around her head like a halo, and her smile was sweet.
But her calico dress was faded and drooping, and she wore...wooden clogs on her feet. Savannah glanced at her traveling costume, the fine sateen cloth, the ivory lace and her kid gloves. She’d thought it serviceable enough when she donned it at the hotel that morning, but now she understood what Elias had meant about her parasol and fan matching her dress.
“God kveld, Elias. Er at den nye læreren?” The woman greeted Elias and bobbed her head, smiling at Savannah.
“Ja, dette er hun.” Elias hefted a couple of her bags from the back. “Hennes navn er Miss Cox.”
Two children, both fair and sun-browned, tumbled out of the house. They skidded to a stop when they spied Savannah. Surely they would be her students, as they were both school-aged. Perhaps ten and twelve? The girl found her voice first, firing a rapid question at Elias. He replied, and Savannah understood not a single word.
“Pardon me.”
Elias turned, and she motioned him over. Setting her bags in the dirt, he went to her side. “What?”
Lowering her head and her voice, she whispered, “It’s rude to speak in another language and leave someone out of the conversation. Why aren’t you using English?”
From this close, she could see the blue flecks in his gray eyes and the beginnings of a beard shadowing his slim cheeks. When he leaned in, she smelled sunshine and cotton. “We’re speaking Norwegian because the Halvorsons don’t speak English.”
A strange trickling feeling started in her chest—probably what was left of her courage draining out. “Are you jesting?”
“Nope.”
“I’m to board with a family that speaks no English.”
“They’re the closest family to the schoolhouse.” His shrug made her want to scream. She’d traveled across the country, leaving everything she knew, and he was going to dump her with a family that didn’t even speak English?
Then the little girl edged over, eyes sparkling, freckles spattering her nose. She reached up gently, as if sensing Savannah’s fear, and took her hand. “Du er pen. Mitt navn er Rut. Du vil dele rommet mitt.”
Savannah looked to Elias.
“She says she thinks you’re pretty, that her name is Rut, and that you will be sharing her room.” He continued to unload the bags. “This fellow is Lars, Rut’s brother, and this is their mother, Agneta Halvorson.”
Savannah remembered her manners, slipped from the buckboard and went to Mrs. Halvorson. “I’m pleased to meet you. Thank you for welcoming me into your home.” She took the older woman’s work-worn hand in hers.
Elias translated for her, and Agneta beamed, motioning for them to come inside. As Savannah entered the small house, the smell of something rich and meaty greeted her. Her stomach gurgled, and she put her palm to her middle, her cheeks heating. But Agneta just laughed, a delightful sound like bells. She spoke to Elias, pointing to a steep stair in the corner. Lars and Elias staggered up with Savannah’s baggage, and Rut’s eyes widened as they went out for another trip.
Agneta put her hand on Savannah’s shoulder and directed her to sit at the table. She did as she was bidden, surveying the room. The walls had been painted pale blue on the upper half and a rusty red-brown on the lower. Small-paned windows let in a little light, but the room was dim. A large fireplace and hearth of a construction she’d never seen before took up one corner, and a long table with benches sat before it. Two small cabinets hung from the walls, painted with flowers and scrolls, and a large sideboard with fine carvings took up one wall. In the corner, with a sheet curtain hanging around it to separate it from the rest of the room, sat a bed covered in a pretty quilt.
Rut sat across from Savannah and propped her chin on her palm, staring.
Through it all, Agneta chattered away as if Savannah could understand every word. Savannah tugged off her fingerless lace gloves, folded them with her fan and tucked them into her handbag. Her parasol leaned against her leg, and she caught Rut eyeing it. Mother and daughter exchanged a few words and Rut nodded. She popped up and went to Savannah, holding out her hand, then pointing to Savannah’s hat, bag and parasol.
“Oh, you want to take them?” Relieved at understanding at least one thing, Savannah reached up and removed her hatpin, easing her fascinator-style hat from her hair. “I must look a mess, what with traveling and the ride from town.” She smoothed her hair up from the base of her neck, wishing she was at home so she could sink into the claw-footed tub and wash away the dirt and tiredness.
Elias and Lars clattered down the steps, and Lars went outside right away, leaving the door open. He dropped to his knees and Captain bounded up, licking his face and tumbling him backward into the dirt. From the sound of his laughter, the boy didn’t mind.
“There’s just the one case left. But there’s no more room upstairs.” Elias put his hands on his hips. “What’s in that thing, anyway? Oh, wait, I forgot. It’s none of my business.” He shrugged. “I’ll bring it in, but it will have to stay down here.”
When he’d brought the case in, he set it near the bottom of the stairs. “I have to be going. I promised my pa I’d stop by his place. He owns the next farm to the north of here, about a mile or so.”
Strange that she had to force herself not to grab hold of his arm and beg him not to leave her. Savannah barely knew him, and they hadn’t exactly been cordial to one another. And yet she wanted him to stay.
Perhaps she was seeing things that weren’t there, perhaps it was her tiredness putting thoughts into her head, but she thought she glimpsed a triumphant, challenging gleam in his eyes, as if he was daring her to beg him to take her back to town.
She gathered the last bits of her dignity, put on her remotest expression—the one that her sister Charlotte called her “queen look”—and said, “Goodbye, Mr. Parker.”
* * *
“I’m telling you, Pa, you never saw such a proud bit of goods as that new teacher. Tyler must be out of his mind. And he’s laid it on me to look after her while he’s courting the bigwigs in Saint Paul.” Elias unbuckled harness straps as he talked.
Pa leaned on his pitchfork. “She can’t be that bad. She has the qualifications to be a teacher, doesn’t she?”
“Oh, she’s probably got some paper that says she passed her classes.” Elias led the mare to the watering trough. “But that doesn’t mean she’s ready to take on the Snowflake School. She’s too young, too Southern and too pretty.”
Pa’s eyebrows rose. “Since when did being pretty mean you couldn’t teach school?”
“Since Miss Savannah Cox hit town. I’m telling you, Pa, she won’t last a week. You should’ve seen her, nose in the air, frills and ruffles and a skirt that trailed the ground, parasol and fan and fancy hat. I’m sure she doesn’t own a decent pair of boots or a coat. It probably never gets below freezing where she lives. She had enough baggage to stock a general store. And she’s tiny, too. Just a little bit of a thing. How’s she going to tote the coal and water and break a path through the snow across the fields come January?” He turned the mare into the corral and forked some hay over the fence before following his father to the house.
“Evening, Mor.” Elias kissed his mother on the cheek. “That smells good.”
“It’s agurksalat and kjøttboller. Vash your hands.” She dished up the cucumber salad and meatballs, setting the dishes on the table. “Tell me about da new teacher.”
Over dinner, Elias did, repeating everything he’d told his father and nearly everything he’d thought about Savannah.
By the time he was finished, his mother was looking at him in that way she had that said she was disappointed in him, that he’d done something wrong.
“You say she vas cold and distant? You say she looked like da ‘ice princess’?” Ma began clearing plates. “And how many times haff you left your home and family and traveled a long vay to a place vere you do not know da language or da customs or da climate? This new teacher must be frightened and lonely, and you are telling me you did not make her feel velcommen?” His mother shook her head, her gray eyes sad.
A hot, shameful prickle touched Elias’s skin. His ma must’ve felt that way when she’d left her native Norway to come to America. Lonely and strange, not speaking the language, not knowing the customs. What a dunderhead he must’ve looked, enjoying Savannah’s discomfort, driving away from the Halvorsons’ so sure in his mind that he had been wasting his time. Well, he was sure that he’d been wasting his time, that she wouldn’t last long in the job, but he could’ve been nicer about it.
“I just don’t want a repeat of last year, that’s all.” He scrubbed his palms on his thighs under the table. “The kids deserve better than that.”
His parents shared a long look. Surely neither of them had known how he felt about Britta, about the plans he’d been making to court her? The plans that had been shattered when she’d left without saying goodbye.
Pa picked up his newspaper and dug his spectacles from his overalls pocket. “Your ma’s right. And anyway, who says the new teacher can’t adapt? Your ma didn’t know a lick of English when we met, but that didn’t stop us from communicating.” He winked over the top of his paper, and Ma blushed, as she always did. “Tyler must have faith in this Miss Cox to do the job. It’s up to us in the community to make sure she feels welcome and to help her in any way we can. Just because one or two teachers didn’t last doesn’t mean this one won’t.”
Ma looked Elias hard in the eyes. “Tomorrow you vill be nice to da new teacher. You vill go to da school where she vill be cleaning it for Monday, and you vill invite her to our house for dinner after church on Sunday, ja?”
“Ja, Mor.”
Elias accepted the slice of apple pie she handed him. He would be nice, he would look after the new teacher until Tyler returned to take over the job and he would pass along his parents’ invitation, but he would also stay aloof. He couldn’t risk getting too close to an outsider who wouldn’t last past the first frost.
Chapter Three (#ulink_51348770-d99b-5b37-a956-43a0a94dc93c)
The Halvorsons rose before the sun, and Savannah rose with them. Her muscles ached from the bouncy stage ride and the night spent tossing on a rope-strung, straw-tick bed for the first time in her life.
How she missed her feather and kapok mattress and her down pillows. She missed her sisters’ chatter as they dressed. And she missed the familiar house sounds of the servants carrying tea trays and tapping on doors. Most of all, she missed sleeping in on a Saturday morning.
Rubbing her neck, she strained to see in the dim light of the loft. A single, small-paned window at the end of the room showed the grayish-pink light of the coming dawn. Mrs. Halvorson called up the stairs again.
The loft was divided into two rooms, not by a wall, but by a curtain of pillow ticking material strung on a wire. On the far side lay Lars’s portion of the upstairs space, a fact Savannah had been conscious of as she tossed and turned last night.
Rut rolled out of her side of the bed and plucked her dress off a peg. She glanced over her shoulder with a quick smile, said something Savannah couldn’t understand and began dressing. Savannah slipped from beneath the quilt, ducking to avoid hitting her head on the steeply sloped roof. She wrapped herself in the shawl she’d laid close to hand the night before, and searched through her luggage until she found the valise she thought contained her most serviceable skirts and blouses.
Rut tapped Savannah’s shoulder, raised her eyebrows and pointed to the buttons up the back of her dress. “Vennligst?”
“Oh, of course.” Savannah began to do them up for the little girl. Through the curtain that divided the room came rustling and bumping, followed by clattering down the steep staircase.
Rut soon followed, leaving Savannah some privacy in which to dress and fix her hair. She found herself banging her elbows on the roof, barking her shins on the many boxes and bags, and struggling in the cramped space to find what she needed. She would have to bring some organization to her possessions if she was really going to spend the school year here.
She paused. Of course she was going to spend the school year here. She’d signed a contract, given her word. And besides, admitting defeat before she even started wasn’t her way. Why, Aunt Carolina would never let her live it down if she quit this soon.
Shaking out a tan-and-blue-plaid blouse with a minimum of lace, she paired it with a businesslike brown skirt. The severe lines of the front fall and the spare draping and gathering to the bustle would surely be suitable for a schoolteacher. Digging farther, she found the box containing her new, high-topped black boots, the most serviceable footgear she’d ever purchased. Almost no heel, sturdy laces and dull black leather. Savannah wrinkled her nose as she stuck her boot-clad foot out and surveyed the results. Her sisters would laugh.
Fully dressed, she eased down the precipitous staircase into the kitchen. Mrs. Halvorson stood at the cupboard slicing bread, her back to Savannah. There was no sign of the children, and Savannah didn’t know how to ask where they’d gone. How was she ever going to survive here when she couldn’t talk to anyone?
Except Elias Parker, who thought she should be sent back where she came from before “big, bad Minnesota” did her in. Savannah grimaced and pushed Elias to the back of her mind.
“God morgen.”
Mrs. Halvorson’s greeting pulled Savannah out of her thoughts, and after a pause, she replied, “Good morning, Mrs. Halvorson.”
The woman beamed and pointed to herself. “Agneta.”
“Good morning, Agneta. Please, call me—” she put her hand on her chest “—Savannah.”
“Sa-vah-nah.”
“Yes.”
Agneta reached into the sideboard and handed her some cutlery, then motioned to the table. Grateful for a job to do, Savannah set the table, taking the stoneware plates from the shelf where she’d seen Agneta put them after washing up last night. As she found tin cups, Agneta beamed and nodded. Again this morning she had her braids crisscrossed atop her head, giving her a girlish appearance. Her apron covered most of her dress and had been embroidered with cheerful yellow-and-red flowers along the hem.
Just as Savannah placed the last cup, Lars and Rut came in. Lars carried a small pail of milk, which he handed to his mother before washing up at the basin beside the door. Agneta took the milk, poured some through a piece of cheesecloth into a pitcher, then the rest into a pair of shallow pans on the sideboard. Per Halvorson came in and opened the door that went into the dugout portion of the dwelling. A dank, cool, earthy smell rolled out, and Agneta carried the pans inside.
The children tugged out the bench and sat at the table. Savannah took the place she’d occupied the night before, and when everyone was seated, Per bowed his head. Though she couldn’t understand the words, Savannah was grateful. At least she had been placed with a family that prayed together.
A small wave of homesickness crept into her heart. This morning, Aunt Carolina, Aunt Georgette and Savannah’s sisters would be sitting on the back veranda sharing breakfast. The girls would be home from the Minton Ladies’ Academy for the weekend. The day would include shopping and tea downtown, perhaps a few calls upon friends. The evening would hold a symphony concert, or a stroll through the city gardens, or buggy rides with some of the young men in their set.
“Sa-vah-nah?”
She looked up. Agneta held a plate of thinly sliced meat for her.
“Oh, I beg your pardon.” She took a piece of the meat and passed the plate to Rut. Bread followed.
Sandwiches for breakfast? She had to expect that, along with the language, the customs and food would be different. With a slight shrug and a mental note to do everything she could to blend in to her new surroundings, Savannah buttered her bread and slid the meat between the two slices.
Rut giggled and Lars stared.
