Kathryn Albright - Christmas Kiss From The Sheriff

“Yes’m,” he said, contrite now, his face red.

She stared at him a moment longer, just to make her words stick. “For now, please see to lighting the stove and then go outside until you are called in with the others.”

Sullen now, he rose to do her bidding.

A twinge of guilt pricked her. Had she handled that correctly? It was important that she appear strong and capable. It was a fine line, she was learning, between keeping control of her classroom and yet not squelching her students’ zeal to learn. Billy was fifteen years old after all. When she was that age, she’d been full of the confidence of youth. She had considered herself practically grown no matter that her father called her his little girl still. At that age a dressing down by her teacher would have been humiliating. Perhaps she should have been more aware of that before chastising him. But then, perhaps given his age, he should not have trespassed in the first place.

The conflicting thoughts hounded her as she walked to the coat closet, setting her lunch pail on the shelf above the long row of pegs. Shrugging from her night-blue woolen coat, she hung it on the last wooden peg and then rubbed her hands together to warm them. The mornings had been chilly for weeks, but of late, they were downright cold. Snow was expected any day and with the snow—Christmas.

Billy walked by on his way to the door. She glanced down at his feet. The footprints she noticed must have been his. His shoes were as large as any mans, although the rest of him hadn’t caught up yet. He was as tall as her, lanky and still growing.

“Mr. Odom? Are you enjoying Robinson Crusoe?”

He shrugged noncommittally, before stepping outside and closing the door behind him. Boys were funny creatures. As an only child and female, she had little experience with what happened in their brains.

Staring at the closed portal, she breathed a sigh of relief. For her first teaching job she had thought she would feel a bit more secure. Things came easier with the younger children, but the oldest ones... Billy and Duncan...she had more difficulty with. It hadn’t been that long ago that she was a schoolgirl herself—five years at most if she didn’t count the year at the university. She’d thought it wouldn’t be anything at all to slip into the role of teacher after her own exemplary education. Finding herself questioning her decisions and second-guessing herself had never entered her mind until she’d taken this position.

The sounds of chatter as more children arrived outside made her push those thoughts to the back of her mind. She surveyed the room with a critical eye, making sure everything was ready for the lessons ahead. The schoolhouse seemed more comfortable than when she first arrived. Then, construction had been nearing completion and with the help of a few determined souls and the supplies her friend Elizabeth had brought from La Playa, the schoolroom had quickly come together.

Picking up a sliver of chalk, she turned to the wall behind her desk and wrote the day’s morning lessons on the slate board. Fifteen minutes later, she withdrew her father’s watch from her skirt pocket and checked the time. Nine o’clock. Time to ring the—

“Miss Starling!” Moira Bishop rushed through the door. “C-c-come quick!” she cried in her high-pitched voice.

Outside came the sound of one boy taunting another. “I ain’t doin’ it, ya crazy goat!”

Gemma hurried out. In the schoolyard, all the children stood to one side and watched Duncan Philmont and Billy Odom circle each other like two feral dogs. Billy already sported a cut above his left eyebrow and a growing bruise there. This was a first. The two had never gotten along well, but they’d never come to fighting before.

“Both of you...stop this immediately!” She rushed into the yard. “This is no way for civilized people to act.”

Billy, his flannel shirt torn, never moved his gaze from Duncan. Blood dripped into his eye from the cut. He blinked, and then swiped his sleeve across his face to clear his vision. Duncan, a year older and standing a good foot taller than Billy, crouched down and moved closer, his angular face set in a menacing scowl. His tousled black hair contained bits of dried grass and small twigs and a large grass stain smeared his right shoulder sleeve.

She may as well have not spoken at all for all the reaction it gained. “You must stop! What is this all about?” she demanded.

“Back up, Teach,” Duncan said. “This ain’t no concern of yours.”

Her spine stiffened. Teach, indeed! He knew better than to address her like that.

“It is my concern if it happens here at my school.”

Behind her one of the Daley boys bet on Duncan to win and two other children piped in that they’d put in a bet too. Shocked, she roared, “There will be no bets!”

A few younger children backed up, their eyes wide at the first true display of anger she’d revealed since starting her position.

However, her tone didn’t faze either of the two who continued to circle each other. Duncan inched closer, intent upon his next move and completely ignoring her. Blood dripped from his swollen and purple upper lip.

Billy trembled with suppressed anger. Sweat streaked with mud ran down his face and neck.

Suddenly Duncan leaped at him and grabbed behind his neck, pushing him, facedown toward the ground. Hunched over like that, Billy punched him hard in the gut—once and then with his other fist. With an oof, Duncan went down, pushing Billy with him. In the dirt and grass they grappled, their tempers gone, their only thoughts to pound the other to dust. Really, this was entirely out of hand!

She must do something. Now. She raced back into the school and picked up the bucket of water she used to clean the slate board—filthy rag and all. Running back outside, she stepped up to the two and sloshed the cold contents of the bucket over both boys.

“Yeow!” They rolled off each other and spit the filth from their mouths. Then they scrambled to their feet and stood there glaring at her, the water dripping off their messy hair.

“I’m disappointed in the both of you. Christmas is nearly upon us! It’s a time that embraces a generous and giving spirit, and I find you both fighting!”

Neither one said a word but their expressions said they absolutely hated her interference.

“Nothing is worth fisticuffs. You must both learn to discuss things and compromise. That is the way of a civilized people.”

Billy snorted. “Tell that to my pa.”

She glared at him. “It takes a big man to keep control of his emotions. That is the mark of a gentleman.”

“Who says I want to be a gentleman?” Duncan mumbled under his breath, a mutinous frown on his face.

She chose to ignore his attitude. “All right then. Billy, go down to the creek and clean up, and then take your seat inside.”

That she had singled him out first only made his anger more palpable. He picked up his flat tan cap that was now streaked with dirt and grass stains and slapped it against his thigh.

“To the water, Mr. Odom.”

When he’d finally shuffled off, she turned to the other boy. Duncan needed to wash up also, but she wasn’t about to put him in the same proximity with Billy so soon after the fight. “I’ll get you a cloth for that lip. You may take your seat now.”

Duncan smirked, a half smile on one side of his face that made only one eye crinkle up, and took his time picking up his own flat cap from the grass. “Yes’m, Teach,” he said, before turning away and swaggering toward the schoolhouse.

She didn’t like it...his belligerent attitude or the rude way he spoke to her. In the ten weeks that she had been teaching, she’d learned he had little respect for anyone, likely owing to his father’s position in the community. “Mr. Philmont. I will thank you to address me as Miss Starling.”