The next day at school was long. And, to Charlie, at least, it was awkward. The first day it was one of the girl's fathers who
was the class parent observer. Mr. Reynolds, who was a photographer and had a small shop. He was a parent to one of the very little girls, Katie Reynolds.
Katie was one of the smaller girls that had been so frightened of the snake that the boys had brought in.
Mr. Reynolds kept up a nearly constant walk around the classroom, up and down the aisles, with his hands behind his back as he
walked. That bothered Charlie. It seemed that whenever she bent her head over her book or her work, she would feel the presence of Mr. Reynolds,
right behind her. Or beside her.
The children behaved themselves, for the most part. Beyond a bit of whispering, there was no real misbehavior. That Monday afternoon,
when Charlie got home, she got her snack from Maria, and asked, as was usual, if Maria knew if Scott was working nearby.
Maria shook her head, filling Charlie's glass with cold milk.
"El esta arriba," Maria said, pointing towards the upstairs.
Charlie swallowed her bite of cookie. "Is he sick?" she asked, worried right off.
Maria shook her head, once again. "No."
Charlie drank down her milk, set her empty glass on the cabinet, and said a thank you to Marie. She took her second cookie, bounding up the stairs.
Scott's bedroom door was open, and Charlie went to stand there, in the doorway. Scott was standing at his wardrobe, taking out folded
shirts from a drawer.
"Hey there, kiddo," he greeted Charlie, pausing in his task. "How was school?"
"Alright. It was Mr. Reynolds today-watching the classroom."
"How did he do?" Scott asked.
"He did alright. He walked around a lot," Charlie said, and Scott walked on towards the bed. There was a valise on the bed, and Scott began
to put the shirts into the bag.
"Come on in," Scott said, waving a hand at Charlie. "I want to talk to you."
Charlie came over and hoisted herself up onto the high bed.
"Are you going away?" she asked, feeling worried.
"I am. I have some business to take care of." He paused and gave her a slight smile. "It should just be a couple of days."
"Oh," Charlie said, and couldn't hide her disappointment.
Scott laid a hand on the back of her neck. "A couple of days," he said, again, as though to reassure her.
He went back to the wardrobe, searching for socks.
"Are you buying cattle?" she asked.
"No. No cattle this time."
Immediately, Charlie felt her suspicions rise up.
"Is your meeting with the bank board? About me?" she asked.
Scott turned, a pair of socks in each hand. He came and tucked them into the valise.
"Not every meeting or trip I have is about you, kiddo," he said, with a note of censure in his tone.
"Okay," Charlie conceded, with grace.
"And, if it did happen to include a meeting about you, it's not necessarily something to worry about," he said. "Is it?"
Charlie looked down and picked at the quilt with her fingers. She shrugged. "I guess not."
"Charlie," he said, with firmness, and she looked up to meet his eye.
He raised an eyebrow, waiting, and Charlie sighed. "No," she admitted.
"Okay," Scott said, and gave her a slight smile. He began closing up the valise. "How did the apology to your teacher go?"
Charlie hesitated, nipping at her lower lip. "I have to do it tomorrow."
Scott looked immediately stern. "Charlie," he said, again, in warning.
"I didn't get there early enough this morning to do it before she rang the bell," Charlie hastened to explain. "And, then, she
was too busy during recess time and lunch-but after school I asked her if I could talk to her in the morning, and she said yes."
Scott was still eyeing her sternly, as if he was thinking over her explanation.
"I'm going early so that I can do it," Charlie assured him.
"See you that do," Scott said, quietly, but with authority.
Charlie nodded vigorously. "Yes, Scott."
L
Charlie set out for school the next morning, with extra treats from Maria packed into her lunch pail for her friends. Scott had taken his
leave already, early, and Charlie, thinking about his absence for a couple days, added to the dread of having to apologize to Miss
Hummel, felt her mood blackened. She went up the school steps when she arrived, hesitating at the door. She opened
the heavy door, and stepped inside. Miss Hummel was seated at her desk, her head bent over, busily writing.
The floor creaked as Charlie walked towards the front.
The teacher seemed unaware of her presence, and Charlie paused, and said, quietly, "Miss Hummel?"
"What is it, Charlotte? I'm very busy," Miss Hummel said, without looking up from her work.
Charlie thought that the teacher must have forgotten that she had agreed the day before that they could speak today.
"I wanted to talk to you," Charlie began. Realizing that her voice was way too soft, she raised her tone a bit at the end.
"I'm very busy, Charlotte," Miss Hummel said, again, sighing and taking off her spectacles, and giving Charlie a look of irritation.
"I wanted to explain about something-" Charlie said.
At the teacher's frigid glare, Charlie felt her courage slipping a bit.
"Yes?" Miss Hummel prompted, drawing out the word to sound like 'yesssss?' Nearly mockingly, it seemed to Charlie.
Charlie's nervousness became anger, very, very quickly. Miss Hummel didn't have to try to humiliate her-
She bit her lower lip hard enough to hurt, on purpose, and counted silently, as Scott had told her to do when she felt her anger
bursting forward. 'One, Two, Three-" silent counting.
"Charlotte!" Miss Hummel snapped.
"It's about the rhyme," Charlie said, in a burst of words, her counting interrupted.
At Miss Hummel's continued irritated stare, she now added a furrowing of her forehead, to indicate that she couldn't understand just what
Charlie was even talking about.
"The one that you heard the boys singing," Charlie explained.
"What of it?" Miss Hummel asked, sounding even more irritated now. As if angry at being reminded of the offensive rhyme.
"I'm the one that made it up," Charlie said, in a rush.
Miss Hummel eyes grew wider, and then seemed to bulge out, nearly. She rose to her feet, and folded her hands over
her stomach. She stared so hard and for what seemed like a horribly long time to Charlie.
"I didn't mean any harm," Charlie said. She swallowed hard, thinking that it looked as though Miss Hummel was going
to explode. Like poof-right there-just evaporate. "I apologize for it."
She realized the teacher was finally speaking. In a heated voice.
"I'm disappointed, Charlotte, and surprised, as well. From what I understood, you've had a wonderful opportunity thrust upon you,
when you were taken in by the Lancer family. Murdoch Lancer is well respected in this area. I've thought highly of him, myself."
Before Charlie could think of a response, Miss Hummel continued, "I do have to wonder now. Perhaps he's not as sound in his
judgement as I believed. And-I have heard questionable things about his other son-Johnny, isn't it?"
Suddenly, Charlie didn't care. She didn't care about her promise to Scott to apologize to Miss Hummel; she didn't care about what the
consequences might be; she didn't care if Scott saw fit to punish her-she wasn't going to let this horrible woman say anything
bad about Murdoch or Johnny.
"Murdoch is wonderful-and his judgement is fine!" Charlie said. "And-Johnny is one of the finest men there is! Anyone that
gossips about him is-" Charlie hesitated, searching for the most offensive word, "Ignorant! And they're not fit to-to lick his boots!"
Miss Hummel's eyes bugged even more. She drew herself up so straight that it looked as though her back might snap.
Charlie wished that it would.
She stared hard at Charlie, and Charlie stared right back.
"You may take your seat, Charlotte," Miss Hummel said, in a terrible voice.
There were minutes yet before it was bell-time. The sound of the other children outside in the school yard could be heard as they
played and shouted.
Why did she have to sit down already? Charlie had no desire to have to spend any time with this disagreeable woman, and even less to
do so with no one else around.
"It's not time for the bell yet," Charlie protested.
Now those bulging eyes of Miss Hummel's were snapping as well. "You will do as you are told!"
Charlie turned and went to sit at her and Rebecca's desk. Wishing that Rebecca's comforting presence was beside her now.
She silently fumed, as the teacher turned and went back to sit behind her desk.
Reeling over what had just happened, Charlie felt her heart pounding. She was sweaty with emotion. She tried the counting to herself
again, to try and calm down.
After the teacher rang the bell and the other children began to file inside, Rebecca slid into her seat beside Charlie, and looked at
her questioningly. Charlie shook her head and Rebecca squeezed her hand under the desk.
The day's lessons began, and Charlie tried her best to listen, and to feel a return to normal. Rebecca and Jason's father was the parent
spectator for this day. Rebecca's father settled in a chair at the back of the classroom, and that's where he stayed, puffing on a pipe, and looking stern
and staying silent. For some reason, that made Charlie feel awkward, as well. She wanted to be seeming on her best behavior, so
that Rebecca's father wouldn't think she was an unsuitable friend for Rebecca.
By the first recess, Charlie had a headache, and by lunch, it was no better. Added to the headache was what felt like a pit
in her stomach. She passed out the treats that Maria had sent along to the boys, who accepted them eagerly. She, herself, had no
appetite at all, and ate very little.
Suddenly, Charlie felt so badly that she knew she couldn't cope all the afternoon in the classroom. All she wanted to do
was to go home. Home. What a word. The land around the ranch. The barns. The animals. The warmth of the rooms inside the
hacienda. All of the family-
That's all she could think of. Getting there.
She gathered her lunch things together, and told Rebecca what she was doing. She went inside to gather her school books, interrupting
Miss Hummel as she was conversing with Rebecca's father. Miss Hummel was doing all the talking, waving her hands around, as he sat,
puffing his pipe, and saying nothing too much.
"Yes, Charlotte?" Miss Hummel asked. Her tone much more polite in the presence of Rebecca's father.
"I don't feel well. May I be excused to go home?" Charlie asked.
"I'm sorry you're feeling poorly," Miss Hummel said. "Of course you may go, if you need to."
Charlie thought of the old saying, 'Butter wouldn't melt in her mouth'. What an actress Miss Hummel was. Pretending to be
nice and caring, just because there was another adult in the room.
Charlie took her things, and left without saying anything more. Outside, she said her goodbyes, and began the walk to
the stable to collect her horse.
She hadn't gone far when Monte caught up with her.
"Are you alright?" he asked, falling into step beside her.
"You'd better get back before she rings the bell," Charlie said.
"I don't care," Monte said, carelessly. "I wanted to see why ya were leavin'."
"I feel sick," Charlie said.
"Oh."
Monte kept walking beside her, and Charlie said, again, "You're going to get into trouble."
"Aw, who gives a darn," Monte said. "I snitched some of my father's cigars. You wanna smoke one?"
"No."
"Nobody will find out," he said.
"No," Charlie said, again, and Monte squinted closer at her.
"You really do feel bad, don't ya?" Monte asked. "I mean-you really are sick."
"I guess."
The sound of the school bell could be heard in the distance, as they reached the stables.
"That old witch did somethin' to make ya feel bad, didn't she?" Monte guessed.
Charlie shrugged, feeling dull.
"I hate her," Monte said, vehemently.
Charlie paused outside the stable. "You better get back," she told him, again.
"Okay," Monte said, reluctantly.
"See you."
"See ya."
Once she'd gotten a saddled Gurth, Charlie started for home.
At the edge of the ranch, Charlie saw men working cattle in one of the fields. She knew Scott wouldn't be among them, so
she paid little attention. Until she heard a piercing whistle. She pulled Gurth to a stop as Johnny rode up on the other side of the
fence.
He wiped an arm over his forehead. "Hey, pequeno," he greeted her. "What are ya doin' home?"
"I don't feel good," Charlie said.
"Oh, yeah?" Johnny asked, looking concerned. "What's wrong?"
"Headache," Charlie said, with a sigh.
"Alright-well, nobody's at the house right now. Think ya can look after yourself for awhile until I get up there?"
"Where is everybody?" Charlie asked, a bit plaintively.
"Maria's sister needs help, so she won't be around for a couple of days. Teresa's goin' to Cole's parents for supper, and Murdoch
went to Stockton. So-it's you and me tonight."
"Oh. Okay," Charlie said.
"Go on, and get yourself comfortable. Lay down for awhile, and see if that helps," he told her.
Charlie nodded in answer, and began riding to the house, as Johnny called after, "I'll be up as soon as I can!"
Charlie unsaddled Gurth, put away the tack, and let him out into the pasture with the other horses.
Entering the kitchen, it seemed strange not to find Maria busy there, bustling around, and preparing a snack for her. She set her
lunch pail and books on the table, and went upstairs to change into comfortable clothes.
Once redressed in her coveralls and soft blouse, Charlie went back downstairs, going to the library, and curling up on
the sofa with a favorite afghan.
It was too light in the room, so Charlie got up again, to draw the drapes, closing out the sunshine.
She fell into a light sleep, and when she woke up, she heard rattling coming from the kitchen.
She laid where she was, feeling her headache pounding, miserable. From the beginning to right now, the day had
been horrible. She still felt angry when she thought of Miss Hummel, and that anger made her head hurt worse.
Johnny appeared to stand beside the sofa, looking down at her.
"How are ya feelin'?" he asked. "Any better?"
Charlie shook her head in answer.
"Okay. I'll be back in a minute," he said, and disappeared.
When he returned, it was to lay a vinegar-soaked cloth on her forehead, and to hand her another cloth rolled into a ball with a strong
smell coming from inside.
"Hold that up to your nose every little bit," Johnny said. "It'll help."
"What is it?" Charlie asked.
"It's cloves. Chopped cloves."
"Oh," Charlie said, taking a preliminary sniff. "It's real strong," she said.
"That's why it helps. I'm gonna get washed up, and then I'll find us somethin' to eat. Maria left plenty of food."
"I'm not very hungry."
"Well, we'll see," he said. He gave her a slight touch to the shoulder to ease her back to a full lying-down position. "Keep that
cloth on your head."
Charlie laid still for a long while after he left, feeling overwhelmed with scents of vinegar and the cloves.
"Uuh," she said, to herself, moving the cloth from her forehead to the side of her head.
"I told ya to leave that on," came a voice just past her head.
Charlie looked up at him, squint-eyed, over the top of the sofa. "I just this minute took it off," she promised. "My head feels
better now, Johnny. Honestly."
"Okay," he said, taking both cloths of headache remedies from her. "Come on to the kitchen, so we can get somethin' in
your stomach."
Charlie got up, obediently tagging after him to the kitchen, still protesting that she didn't feel hungry.
"Sit yourself down there," he told her, pointing to a kitchen chair. "I'll see what all there is, and maybe somethin' will strike
your fancy."
Charlie sat down, while Johnny busied himself, pouring her a glass of milk and setting it before her. And then looking thru the
ice box. "How about some roast beef?" he suggested, setting a plate of it onto the table. "Some peppers and tomatoes, and you've got
yourself a real sandwich there."
"Pie sounds good," Charlie said.
"Pie after your meal," he pronounced. "So-roast beef? Or cold chicken? Bread and jelly?"
"Bread and jelly," Charlie conceded, and, after Johnny had settled across the table from her, and they were eating, she found
that after the bread and jelly, she thought a piece of cold chicken sounded good.
Johnny gave her a grin of approval as she reached for one of the chicken legs.
They ate in companionable quiet for a bit, and then Charlie ventured to ask, "Is Murdoch coming home tonight?"
"Nope. He's staying in Stockton tonight."
"He didn't say anything about it this morning."
"It was a last minute thing. Drink your milk," Johnny ordered.
Charlie obeyed, drinking down most of the milk. As Johnny got to his feet, beginning to return things to the ice box,
Charlie said, "If I feel bad in the morning, will you make me go to school?"
Johnny paused in his task, turning his blue eyes on her. "Thought ya were feelin' some better."
"I am. A little. But-if I don't feel better in the morning, will you make me?"
"Well, I dunno, pequeno," he said, looking as though he was considering. "I mean-I'm not gonna make ya go. Not if ya don't
feel good. But, askin' right now about it, it sounds more like a plan on your part."
He regarded her seriously for a long moment. "Is it a plan?" he asked, outright.
"No," Charlie denied. And, then, at his continued scrutiny, she sighed, and added, "Well, not exactly."
"Hmmm," he said. "Well, let's see how it goes along, before we decide anything. Alright?"
Charlie knew that he was onto her, that he knew something had happened to help cause her headache and departure from
school, and she knew that he knew he was onto her. Still, it was comfortable and all here with him, and her head was
feeling better. Johnny wasn't scolding her, or asking lots of questions, yet, anyway.
So she nodded, and gave him a half-smile.
He smiled back.
Lancer