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“Well…” Bertie looked down at her own clothing, which consisted of brown corduroy pants, a white cotton T-shirt and well-worn athletic shoes. “I think it’s been awhile since they’ve seen anyone wear hosiery to school.”
“I’m not buying a new wardrobe to fit in,” Claire muttered. “I like my clothes.” She and Bertie walked down the hall together, exiting the school into the inky darkness of a cloudy night.
“I like your clothes, too. I wish I had the energy to dress better, but I don’t.” Bertie stuck her key in the lock and abruptly changed the subject as she twisted her hand. “This test thing really annoys me. It’s good that Nelson got out of teaching, because I think the parents have cause for legal action.”
“Would they do that?”
“Barlow Ridge parents are not passive parents.” She smiled grimly before asking Claire, “Where’s your car?”
“I walked.”
“It’s going to storm. Do you want a ride home?”
She shook her head. “Thanks, anyway.”
“Coming to quilting club on Wednesday?”
“Will it be friendlier than the PTO?”
Bertie smiled ruefully. “There’s some crossover—Deirdre, Willa, Mary Ann. I think they’re already betting you won’t show.”
Claire smiled humorlessly. “In that case, I’ll show.” She couldn’t sew a stitch, but she figured she could either be there, trying to do her part for the quilt auction, or sitting home alone with her ears ringing as the other women discussed her.
PHIL’S HORSES AND MULES arrived while Brett was in the middle of his online class. Horses he understood. Reacquainting himself with math was going to take some time. He was making headway, but he was glad to give himself a break in order to drive over to the ranch, less than a mile away, and take delivery.
He went to meet the shipper, who opened the door of a trailer to reveal a handsome black mule. Beyond that Brett could see two broad chestnut-colored backs, but the dividers kept him from seeing the horses’ heads.
“They’re tall,” he commented to the driver.
“Yeah. And Numb Nuts, up front, doesn’t have any manners.”
“Good to hear.”
Brett stepped in and ran a hand over the mule’s neck. The big animal gave him a get-me-out-of-here look. Brett complied, leading the big guy out of the trailer and over to one of the many individual corrals adjacent to the barn. When he released it, the mule circled the pen once and then went to the water trough for a long drink.
“Where’re you from?” Brett asked, suddenly realizing that he had no idea where these animals were being shipped from.
“San Diego. I left them in the trailer last night, because I didn’t know if I could get the stud back in.”
Phil wouldn’t like that, Brett thought. Phil couldn’t tell a good animal from a bad one without help, but he insisted that all of his animals be treated right. It was the one thing that helped Brett overlook his boss’s other foibles, which included a healthy dose of arrogance coupled with ignorance about matters he wanted to look like an expert in. Such as horses.
Brett stepped back into the trailer to unload a very nice quarter horse. The mare followed him placidly to her pen, and then she, too, went straight for the water.
And now for Numb Nuts.
He had a feeling from the way the trailer was rocking, now that the stallion was alone and wondering where his mare had gone, that his nuts were actually not all that numb.
Brett opened the divider and the horse rolled an eye at him, showing white. And then the animal screamed. Brett untied him, taking a firm hold on the rope close to the snap, and started to lead him to his pen. The stud danced and rolled his eyes again, but he respected the lead rope, and Brett got him shifted safely. As soon as the stallion had drank his fill, however, he started pacing the fence, back and forth, back forth, punctuating every turn with a fierce whinny.
The driver smiled and headed for his truck, obviously glad to be on his way.
Brett decided to let the horse settle in for a day or two before he attempted to tune him up. And as soon as he could, he was going to suggest to Phil that unless he wanted to make a complete spectacle of himself, perhaps he might want to find a calmer animal to show.
When Brett pulled into his driveway, he saw Claire walking across the field toward his house. What now? She met him at his truck.
“I need a favor.”
“So do I,” Brett said wearily, pushing his hat back.
“What do you need?”
“I need someone to tactfully tell my boss that he’s in over his head.”
Claire frowned. “Who’s your boss?”
“See that ranch over there?”
She nodded.
“It’s one of many around here owned by the Ryker family. They have a land company and they lease ranches—including the one that I’m living on. Phil Ryker decided to become a cowboy a few years back, and took over that ranch as his personal hobby. I take care of it for him while he’s away.”
“I see.”
“And he likes to buy horses. And cows. And mules. He even bought some llamas, once.”
“And he’s just bought something you don’t think he can handle?”
Brett smiled wryly, wondering why he was unloading on Claire. She didn’t seem to mind, though. “He bought something I know he can’t handle, and now he has to be convinced of it before he hurts himself.”
“Good luck,” she said with a smile. Damn, but she had a nice smile.
“Yeah,” he said, sobering up. “What favor do you need? Snake removal? Cooler renovation?”
“I’m joining the quilting club and Regan has a bag of stuff for me at her place. If you’re going to Wesley this week, could you pick it up?”
“Yeah. I can do that.”
“Thanks.” She smiled again. “Well, I have a ton of planning to do, so I’ll see you later.” She took a few backward steps before turning around. “Good luck with your boss.”
“Thanks,” he muttered. He was probably going to need it.
The next morning Brett made his weekly trip to Wesley, picking up groceries, animal feed, hardware, and vaccines for the new horses. He put off stopping at his brother’s place until last.
It was close to four when he knocked on the door. It swung open almost immediately, Kylie’s wide smile fading when she saw him. She forced the corners of her mouth back up again.
“Hi. I thought you were someone else.”
Obviously. Kylie had grown into a beautiful girl—almost a carbon copy of her mother—which added to Brett’s awkwardness whenever he had to face her alone. Kylie always picked up on the vibe and reflected it back, making their one-on-ones a tad uncomfortable.
“Regan has a bag of quilt supplies for Claire that I’m supposed to pick up.”
“Oh. Right. I was wondering what this was.” Kylie stepped back to retrieve a large plastic bag, which she handed to him. For a moment they stared at each other, neither certain of what to say. As usual.
“Are you coming to watch me ride?” There was a regional 4-H horse show in Elko in two weeks, and Kylie had qualified in several events.
“Yes, I am.” He made it a point to watch her ride or play basketball whenever he could. It hurt in some ways, but it was a price he was willing to pay.
“Do you know about the barbecue afterward?”
“What barbecue?”
“Regan wanted to have a get-together since Claire is here, so that she can introduce her around.”
Brett automatically shook his head. “No. I probably won’t be coming.”
“All right.” Kylie seemed fine with it. Relieved, in fact. Brett felt the usual twinge of regret.
A truck pulled into the drive behind his, and a kid who looked too young to be driving jumped out. Kylie’s face lit up and Brett felt a stirring of protectiveness. Surely Will wasn’t letting her date already? She was only fifteen.
“Hi, Kylie. Hi…” The boy’s face contorted in confusion for a second and then he said, “I thought you were Mr. Bishop.”
“He is,” Kylie said. “This is my uncle.”
“Oh. Hi. I’m Shane.” The boy extended his hand, and Brett gave him points for manners.
“Nice to meet you.” He glanced over at Kylie, encountering eyes exactly like his own. “I gotta get going. Nice meeting you, Shane. Bye, Kylie.”
“See ya.”
CLAIRE PERCHED ON the edge of her desk, an expectant look on her face. After a few seconds of staring silently, she asked, “Is there a problem with the topic?”
The students shook their heads, then began writing in their journals.
Claire waited the full fifteen minutes before asking, “Does anyone want to share?”
As usual, the students sat staring straight ahead. Even the young ones. They were learning fast. Claire sighed and told the kids to get out their social-studies texts. When she’d informed Brett that she could take whatever these students could dish out, she’d meant challenges such as snakes—not things like a stupefying lack of response. And she was fairly certain it wasn’t too late for the younger kids, that they would respond if it weren’t for fear of being laughed at by the older students.
What to do?
Claire drummed her fingers on her desk, then stopped when a few kids looked up at her. She opened her grade book and pretended to study the columns of numbers. The obvious answer was to separate the younger students from the older ones, but she couldn’t do that in the space she had available.
She thought back to her professors, with all their pie-in-the-sky educational theories. Never once had it been mentioned that she might be faced with kids who simply refused to engage themselves. Kids who did not want to learn.
Regan had advised her to ignore the stony stares and reward the behavior that met her expectations, but hadn’t mentioned what to do if the behavior of the older kids was tainting the younger ones.
Claire headed for the office phone. Something had to be done before it was too late.
Back in the classroom, she told the fifth and sixth graders to go outside for recess. When the older kids also rose to their feet, she asked them to remain. She spoke quietly, but there was no doubt that she meant what she said. The seventh and eighth graders sat back down.
“We need to talk. You guys are role models for the younger kids. I want to know if you think you’re setting them a good example?”
They did not even have the grace to appear ashamed. If anything, they looked smug, and Claire felt her anger growing.
“You guys are acting like a bunch of jerks, and it has to stop. I will not have you ruining the education of the other students. I’ve phoned Principal Rupert, and if this behavior continues, he will be driving out to have a talk with each one of you on an individual basis.”
Dylan and Ashley both smirked. Toni gave Claire a stony stare.
“He’s also calling your parents today.”
Ashley looked unconcerned, but Dylan and Toni paled slightly. So there was some fear. That was good. Maybe there was hope.
“I don’t hold grudges,” Claire continued. “I’m willing to let bygones be bygones, if you start acting the way you know you’re supposed to act.” She drew in a breath, wondering if the kids knew how much she was winging it. “Instead of recess, I would like you to write about how your behavior is affecting the other kids. Ashley, I want to talk to you privately.”
“Sure,” the girl said with a toss of her head. She followed Claire out into the hallway.
“I know you feel safe, Ashley—like no consequence can touch you.”
The girl smiled.
“And I want a straight answer. Are you going to set a better example with your behavior? Or are you going to continue as you’ve been doing?”
“I don’t see anything wrong with my behavior, and neither does my mother.”
“You don’t see how the younger kids are learning from watching you?”
She shook her head.
“Then my only option is to put you where they can’t watch you. Your desk will be in the hall for the remainder of the day and tomorrow, until we talk to the principal. We’ll reevaluate then.”
“I’m going to sit in the hall?”
“Yes.”
“How will I hear what you’re saying?”
“What would that matter, Ashley? You seem to think you already know everything. Stay here. I’ll go get your desk.”
Claire took a few steps toward the room, angry with herself for sniping at the girl. She turned back, wanting to give it one last stab. “This is your choice, Ashley. I don’t want you out here. If you’ll participate in class in a respectful way, I want you in the room with everyone else. You’re a bright girl, and you can help the younger students learn.”
She raised her chin and narrowed her eyes. But she did not respond.
A steaming Ashley was sitting at her desk in the hall when the younger kids came traipsing in again. Claire stood next to her door and watched the procession. The kids looked first at Ashley, then at Claire. No one said anything.
There was a definite change in attitude, now that Ashley was no longer in residence. Claire took her the work for the afternoon, then closed the classroom door. There would, no doubt, be a hot phone call from Deirdre Landau later. Maybe even a personal visit. But it was worthwhile, if Claire could save her younger students from going over to the dark side.
Surprisingly, Ashley left school that afternoon without summoning her mother. She walked away, her chin held high and her books pressed close to her chest. Toni walked with her, but their heads were not together as usual. Claire felt a little bad, but knew she had to draw the line somewhere.
She graded papers until three-thirty and then went into her storage closet, prior to her usual trip to the basement before going home. Every evening she sorted and carted one shelf of stuff off to the nether regions. She almost had space in her closet now to store the textbooks that were shoved into boxes under her counters. And in the process she had uncovered some useful supplies, as well as some hilarious artifacts of days gone by. She figured that with her box-a-day strategy, she’d have decades worth of haphazardly stored items properly sorted and put away by the end of the semester. If nothing else, she would leave the school better organized than she’d found it—and the students better educated. Even if it killed her. And them.
