Rebecca Grant

Airdrie, Alberta

Sunday, 28th August, 1910

Dear Mom,

Sorry I missed my letter last week, and hoping the wire reached you saying we'd arrived in Coal Valley safely. It's been a busy time to say the least. Your letter reached us yesterday and you addressed it perfectly. The post office, such as it is, resides in the Mercantile. Truth is, in this town, you could throw a letter into the middle of the street and if it said Nathan Grant on it, I would get it.

Allie and I are settling in well, and this feels like a place we could live for a long while. I told you that I discovered who the mysterious benefactor was, and now I know why he cares about this particular place. Turns out his daughter is the new schoolteacher in Coal Valley, and he was worried that without a Mountie in town she would be less safe. So I am here under the good graces of William Thatcher and his daughter, Elizabeth.

I met the lady in question after her stagecoach had been robbed and she'd spent the night alone and afraid. I misjudged her immediately, thinking she might be like one of those Quebec City princesses I told you so much about, but she's nothing like that. She's headstrong for sure, but also brave and kind and Allie is already head over heels in love with her.

So, as long as Miss Thatcher is kept safe, I believe I will have a job here in Coal Valley, which makes me happy. (And of course you know I would keep her safe even without the added incentive.)

Allie is learning her numbers quickly and can write her name, though she can't fully understand why she needs two Ls in it. It looks as if school in Coal Valley takes children from 5 through 17 so she'll have another year stuck with me for her learning, and then she will gratefully, I'm sure, move into Miss Thatcher's classroom.

We're living in a house with two bedrooms upstairs and a kitchen and living room downstairs. I notice you snuck some of my treasures from Airdrie into the box you sent, and I'm glad of it. I'm starting to understand what you mean about having familiar things in an unfamiliar place. It does tend to transform it. (I really should start listening to you. Ha ha.)

We have a bit of a backyard here, so I'll be building a shed where I can do my woodworking. Since the yard isn't large and I'll be sharing it with the outhouse, that will be another project sooner rather than later. You know how I like to stay busy, and there's plenty to occupy me.

This town has been through a terrible tragedy that I wasn't told of in my orders. Just three months ago there was a mine explosion that killed half the men in town, forty-seven miners. Everywhere you look there are widows leading children by the hand, and although they are strong, faithful people, they've been stretched to their limit. The remarkable thing is that there is still a great deal of joy in Coal Valley, and "love thy neighbor" seems to be the credo of the town.

I've been the beneficiary of that attitude in many ways, but none so welcome as the help I receive with Allie. It doesn't hurt that Allie is a bright, gregarious child who makes friends everywhere she goes. There is a woman two doors down, Catherine Montgomery, who is called Cat, who has two boys and a little girl just a year older than Allie. Cat lost her husband in the mine explosion, yet she gives of herself to everyone and leads the Sunday services with a sense of hope and faith in the greater good that is inspiring. (And you know I can use all the inspiration I can get these days.)

I came upon a quote in my reading last night that resonated deeply. "No amount of guilt can change the past and no amount of worrying can change the future." The fact that it was spoken by a Persian caliph in the year 644 tells me that perhaps we haven't changed much in 1200 years, or at the very least, guilt hasn't.

I know you keep saying that what happened to Colleen wasn't my fault, but I don't seem to be able to believe that. In any case, I can tell you this - if Allie and I are going to heal anywhere, it might as well be in Coal Valley.

Tomorrow is a big day, so I'll close this now. I have a stagecoach robbery to investigate, a small-town baron to speak to, and paperwork to complete for an accidental fire that burned down the teacherage.

Regarding the fire, I will only tell you that Miss Thatcher was involved, after having assured me she knew how to properly start a fire in the stove. If she hadn't looked so very pitiful watching everything she owned go up in smoke, I might have chastised her for fibbing to me, but I just couldn't.

Kiss the new foal for me, and yes, whenever you wish to send on a care package of honey from the hives, it will be gratefully accepted by your sweet-toothed granddaughter and me.

For now, we send all our love,

Your son, Nathan

P.S. There were some books lost in the fire as well, and I'm wondering if you could have Seth or one of the other hands package up the books on the shelves in my room and send them on to me? I know they would be appreciated and would certainly get more use than they do gathering dust in my boyhood room. As always, thank you. xo

Elizabeth woke while it was still dark. The first day of school.

As she lay in bed watching the hint of sunrise color the ceiling, she could hear Cat Montgomery's voice in her head: "For many of us, our children are the only things we have left, and their education is all that we have control over. So whomever we entrust them to must be fearless. You're not just teaching them to read and write, you're fighting for their future."

Elizabeth knew she was up to the task of teaching - the challenge would be teaching children who had been through so much already.

Abigail had warned her about the "coal boys," raised to be hardy and robust so that they could go into the mine as soon as they reached sixteen. Their lives had changed immediately when they'd lost their fathers. Many of them now felt the responsibility of being the "man in the family" no matter what their age, and some thought school was a waste of time if they were only going into the mine for the rest of their lives.

Elizabeth had met some of the children already, so there would be familiar faces today. Emily Montgomery and her brothers, Miles and Gabe; Rachel Stonelake, who had come up to her after church and told her how much she loved learning; Rosaleen Sullivan, who was a sweet child who hadn't spoken since her father had died in the mine, though she loved to draw and she studied well, according to her mother; Anna Hayford, who smiled easily and seemed to be friends with everyone, and Jacob Noonan, who Allie had introduced to Elizabeth as her next-door-neighbor on their walk through town. It gave Elizabeth some confidence to know that they wouldn't all be strangers.

It was time. Elizabeth took one last deep breath and whispered to herself: "I'm a qualified teacher, trained at one of the best colleges. I can do this. I can absolutely do this."

Elizabeth threw back the covers. She put her feet on the cold wood floor and quickly moved them to the braided rug nearby. She looked over at the small table next to her bed and smiled.

A practically perfect red apple.

What had Nathan said? I thought you might like to put it on your desk, to remind you of what a good teacher you are.

Elizabeth picked up the apple and turned it around and around in her hands, and she realized she was looking for an imperfection. She found it, a small brown spot near the bottom where it had perhaps sat too long resting on a twig. She put her thumb there and closed her eyes.

I won't be perfect, but I will do my best. I am a good teacher, and although I am afraid right now, I will come from love, and everything will be fine.

Allie didn't like to get up early. And Nathan realized that their schedule during and after the move had been less than regular, so in part it was his fault that she was now rubbing her eyes and wanting to go back to sleep on his shoulder. But he needed to saddle Newton, so he propped her up on a wooden box where he could see her, and she simply laid back down and went to sleep again.

Carla Noonan was going to watch Allie later today while Nathan met the Murrayville Mountie at the place where the coach was robbed. Yesterday, the Western Coach Service had brought out horses and taken their stagecoach. Nathan had been out there once already while the coach was still there and had searched the area, but he wanted to see if he had missed anything.

Nathan laid the stirrup over the saddle and reached down to tighten the cinch. He looked over at Allie, sleeping peacefully on a hard wooden box as if it were a feather bed, and he smiled. That girl could sleep anywhere.

When he was done, rather than try to ride, Nathan decided to just let her sleep on his shoulder while he led Newton out and walked. He was quite the picture walking from the livery in the early hours of the morning. A Mountie in full uniform, holding the reins to his horse, and at the same time holding a sleeping four-year-old, was not a common sight.

There were plenty of people already up. Ned Yost was bringing in the boxes of overnight deliveries from the front of the Mercantile, and Nathan could see many of the men who hadn't been in the shaft that exploded trudging off in twos and threes to the mine. He knew that they were still searching for bodies, and Nathan understood better than most what a terrible duty that was.

Nathan still had some trouble looking those men in the eyes. They were suffering from something he knew all too well - survivor's guilt. Every time he saw them it brought up his own questions. What could I have done differently, why wasn't it me who died, what if we had waited just a little while to go out that day, what if I hadn't been in such a hurry, what if we hadn't been walking on that particular street... what if.

Nathan adjusted Allie a little on his shoulder. He was thinking about himself standing at the bookshelf talking so confidently about fate and destiny with Elizabeth. He did wholeheartedly believe what he'd said to her, but he wondered why he found it so difficult to apply the principle to himself.

The lights were on in the saloon, and Nathan realized he hadn't seen that this early since he'd been in Coal Valley. But he had been thinking all morning about this being Elizabeth's first day of teaching, and after he tethered Newton in front of the Mountie office, he walked over with Allie still sound asleep.

The saloon door was unlocked, and he pushed it open quietly. She was there, standing at the blackboard with her back to him, and he couldn't stop himself from just watching her for a time. The curls in her hair were pinned up instead of flowing down her back the way they usually were, and Nathan had to admit it added a layer of authority to her demeanor. She wore one of Abigail's simple dresses, but Nathan thought there was an elegance about Elizabeth Thatcher that never quite went away no matter what she was wearing. What Nathan knew beyond a shadow of a doubt was that he liked the look of her. Very much.

Elizabeth was writing her name on the blackboard in large, proper cursive letters. When she finished, she turned, and Nathan's red serge caught her eye immediately.

"Oh!" she said, jumping and putting her hand on her chest. She took a deep breath and laughed. "You gave me a fright!" she said. "I didn't think anyone else would be up this early."

Nathan walked slowly toward her as she walked toward him through the round saloon tables that very soon would become school desks. Elizabeth quickly realized that the reason he hadn't spoken yet was that Allie was sound asleep on his shoulder.

"Aww," Elizabeth said, "A little early for her?"

Nathan smiled, and spoke very softly. "She might sleep until noon some days if I let her. She loves her sleep."

Allie looked so angelic with her pink cheeks, that Elizabeth couldn't help reaching out a finger to tenderly move the hair from in front of her eyes, but to do that, she needed to stand very close to Nathan.

Lavender. He smiled and closed his eyes for just a split second, but Elizabeth noticed.

"What is it?" she said, and then she smiled when she actually saw a light blush come into Nathan's tanned cheeks. She raised her eyebrows and said, laughing softly, "Constable Grant. What could you possibly be thinking at this hour of the morning that would make you blush?"

Nathan sighed and looked down, completely caught. And in a flash of understanding, he knew he couldn't lie to her. After a moment he sheepishly looked back up into her eyes. "Lavender. When we were riding back from the stagecoach, I noticed that you... preferred lavender. It's... very nice." After managing to stutter through that stellar prose, Nathan looked down again, wondering if just turning and walking out of the saloon was an option. He was also wondering how it was that he could be so confident at times with this woman, and at other times completely unable to speak?

Elizabeth felt a blush starting across her own cheeks. She'd been complimented on her perfume by men for as long as she had been going to dances and charity balls, but this was so different. Discussing the scent of her soap - standing in a saloon in Coal Valley in the early hours of the morning, with a man holding a sleeping child - would not have been on her list of romantic possibilities until this very moment. But it was. Romantic.

"It's my soap," she said feebly. "I found it at the Mercantile. Ned had lavender soap." Oh, she thought, it's happening again. I'm speaking in short, simple sentences. She looked up into his eyes, finally, and said, "Thank you."

His crooked smile blossomed suddenly and it was as if the sun came out. "You're welcome," Nathan said. In truth, he liked it when Elizabeth was a little tongue-tied herself. It made him feel that perhaps words weren't that important after all.

"I'm riding out to meet the Murrayville Mountie today, to see if there's anything I missed where your coach was robbed. Carla Noonan will be watching Allie." Why am I telling her all this? Nathan thought. Because I want her to know.

He started to back out, "Well, I should let you get to it. You have a big day today," he said.

"Nathan," Elizabeth said, and he stopped. She turned, smiling, and pointed to her desk. On the corner in the front sat the apple.

Grinning, Nathan said, "Don't forget. You're a very good teacher."

Elizabeth had planned to be waiting outside in front of the door to greet the children, and she had thought of the perfect quote from Euripides to show the mothers how mature and capable she was, but Nathan's visit had left her a little behind in her preparations.

So, instead, she met them inside, and though she didn't know it, she looked more mature and capable standing up at the blackboard than she would have out front.

Elizabeth introduced herself to her students and then asked each child's name and age as she did her best to memorize them. "Please understand that there are twenty-two of you and it may take me some time, but I promise I will do my best," she said. "You can expect that I will always do my best and that I will be prepared with lessons for you each day."

Her heart had stopped pounding quite so loudly in her ears, and Elizabeth was starting to feel more comfortable. She walked slowly down the aisle between the round tables. "And I'd like to talk about what I expect from you. I expect you to pay attention when I am speaking. I expect you to raise your hand when you would like to speak. Please don't leave your seats without asking and please don't talk while I am…"

Suddenly, the most mournful whistle Elizabeth had ever heard sounded in the distance. For a moment, every child in the room sat up straight and turned their head toward the sound. Then, half of them stood and ran toward the door.

The whistle sounded again and Elizabeth watched frantically as her classroom began to empty. "Children, wait! You didn't ask for permission!" Standing in the middle aisle, Elizabeth was in the pathway to the door, and she was almost run over by one of the larger boys. "Sit down! Please, stop! You're already breaking my rules!"

They weren't listening to her. How she had gone from feeling so confident to suddenly losing complete control was baffling her. "I'm warning you, everyone who leaves this classroom without permission will receive a written notice to their parents..."

"Miss Thatcher?" Elizabeth heard a voice and spun around, frustrated.

"Yes, what is it?" she asked, more roughly than she intended. It was Rachel, the sweet girl who had spoken to her after church. She had her hand raised.

"I'm Rachel. And no disrespect, but you shouldn't try and stop them. The whistle's from the mine. It means more of the daddies have been found. Now their folks can take 'em and bury 'em proper."

Elizabeth gasped softly and stopped in her tracks. She looked around the room and realized that the children who were left were either the ones whose fathers had already been found, or had survived the blast. All of the children who ran out of the door were still waiting, perhaps even hoping for some miracle, or at the very least, some peace.

She went to the window and looked out. People were running, walking, riding… all of them toward the mine. Then she saw a car, with Henry Gowen riding like a king in the backseat, going in the same direction.

And suddenly, the facts that she knew about the explosion and the men who died became personal to Elizabeth. This was her town, and these were her students, and this thing happened to them.

She gathered up the smallest child in her room and said to the others in a firm voice, "Everyone follow me."