Liz Ireland - Cecilia And The Stranger

She forced a smile. “But I can see you don’t need my aid.”

“Heavens, no,” he said. “No more than you would need mine hanging out the laundry.” He smiled back, a triumphant show of gleaming white teeth that let her know she hadn’t fooled him about her real purpose for dropping by. “This is wash day, isn’t it?” He couldn’t resist rubbing salt in her wound.

Cecilia’s smile dissolved, as did the thin veneer of politeness she’d been putting on for the children. She didn’t savor the idea of being this man’s servant, even indirectly. “Watch it, Pendergast, or you might find ‘Ode to the West’ on that blackboard one of these mornings.”

Startled, he raised an eyebrow questioningly. What was she talking about?

Cecilia grinned mischievously. “The poem I found in your shirt pocket, Mr. Pendergast.”

Oh, hell! He should have expected that, after reading all those stupid books, Pendergast wouldn’t have been able to resist the urge to put pen to paper. “Oh, that...that was probably something I just jotted down.”

Cecilia crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes on him in a posture that he was beginning to find touchingly familiar. “I’d take more care to check my pockets if I were you. Or it might just get around town that—” She cleared her throat to prepare for her recitation. “‘Your heart yearns to rest in the bosom of the old prairie.’”

Several titters came from behind them, and Cecilia warmed to her audience as she noted Pendergast’s face reddening. Perfect. “Or how about this—‘The sky ‘tis like a lover’s eye, it twinkles upon me nightly.’”

The children jeered openly now. “Give us some more, Cecilia!” Tommy Beck howled.

“Yeah, more bosoms!” shouted Wilbur.

Pendergast’s surprisingly strong hand clamped down on her arm. Cecilia was momentarily thrown off by the buzz of excitement she felt at the contact, but recovered in time to dimple at him sweetly. “Why, Mr. Pendergast, your beautiful verse about caused me to swoon over my washtub.” She batted her eyelashes dreamily at him, bringing whoops of laughter from her former students.

Damn Pendergast, damn, was all Jake could think. And damn Cecilia’s pert little nose and saucy smile. She’d managed to throw the kids into a rowdy mood. It would probably cost him another dollar’s worth of candy to quiet them all down again! He began propelling her toward the door.

“Thank you, Miss Summertree, for your little visit,” he said stiffly, feeling hampered by the manners he was supposed to possess. If he wasn’t supposed to be Pendergast, he would have let her know exactly what kind of a minx she was.

Having never been dismissed from anything but a girls’ school and the houses of her snooty Memphis relatives, Cecilia couldn’t quite comprehend what Pendergast was doing. Only that her performance was being received well. “I had no idea Philadelphia men were so brawny. You must spend your time lifting some heavy schoolbooks, Mr. Pendergast.”

More jeers came from the pupils.

“Of course,” Pendergast said, giving her a final little shove over the threshold. “How else could I toss out impertinent young women from my schoolroom?”

Tossed out? Was that what was going on here? Cecilia thought. But he had no right to do it! She didn’t even want to go into who her daddy was and where her family came from. She was a person to be reckoned with in her own right...at least, in Annsboro, she was.

At least...until now.

She fought against the sagging sensation in her shoulders. Yesterday she’d been Cecilia Summertree, the town schoolteacher, with the best room in Dolly Hudspeth’s boardinghouse. Now she was nothing but a washerwoman, Lupe Viega’s replacement, with a squat room overlooking the biggest privy in town.

Her mind whirred, and then she caught sight of the many sets of eyes fastened on her. None of them seemed to truly appreciate the desperation of her plight. Not even Tommy, who moments before had spoken as her ally. Although, God bless him, the boy was still chewing mesquite gum against school rules.

Suddenly, she became self-conscious. This building, which she’d so recently considered her own, was no longer a welcoming place. Not while Pendergast ruled there.

Before she could voice a response, Jake stepped forward, locked on to her elbow and steered her down the steps. Cecilia sputtered at his manhandling, but he no longer cared what she thought or how angry she became. Her being there was making him nervous.

As he deposited her on the first step, she pulled away and whirled on him. “You—you brute!” she spat angrily.

“Brute?” Jake asked, feigning wonder. He puffed out his chest and tugged at his vest in mock pride. “No one’s ever called me that before. I rather like it.”

What a horrid man! Cecilia thought. And to think that even last night she had toyed with the idea—ludicrous now—that he was actually rather attractive.

“Stay out of my way, Pendergast,” she warned.

“Out of your way? Just yesterday you indicated you were going to be my shadow. Perhaps you should take your own advice.”

Her blue eyes flashed with ire. “That wasn’t advice, Pendergast, it was a warning.” After sending him a final glare, she spun and beat a hasty retreat.

Jake smiled lazily as he again watched Cecilia huff toward town, relieved to have survived the encounter so successfully. He was getting to her. Soon her better sense would prevail—Cecilia would tire of doing chores for Dolly Hudspeth and run back to Daddy’s ranch, leaving him in peace.

But until that time, he would have to be very, very careful—and pray he had enough money to keep these students good and bribed till he was ready to beat it out of town.

Eugene Pendergast would rue the day he came to Annsboro, Cecilia vowed. He’d actually humiliated her in front of her former students, dismissing her as if she was a—a nobody! Of course, she had to admit that she had behaved rather disgracefully herself, standing on the schoolhouse steps ranting about warnings—but he’d provoked her!

She clenched her fists at her sides as she marched down the dusty street, passing right by the turnoff to Dolly’s house. With all the pent-up frustration inside her, she would probably be able to get the wash done in no time, but she couldn’t face Dolly just yet. Her friend would sense something had happened, and Cecilia didn’t want her to know that she had designs on Pendergast. Designs to get him fired, that is.

But how?

At her frantic pace, she’d nearly covered the entire length of the town when she spotted Buck reeling out of Grady’s saloon. He was supposed to have taken her trunk full of clothes back to the ranch the night before, but by the looks of him the man hadn’t made it home at all.

“Buck McDeere, get over here!” she bellowed.

Although the street was practically deserted save for the two of them, the slow-moving cowboy looked muzzily in her direction before appearing to focus on her. Woozily, he shaded his eyes with his hand and stumbled forward. God only knew what he’d done with his hat.

“Buck, have you been in that place since last night?” Cecilia demanded.

“Have not. Just since this morning.”

“This morning?” That was strange. “Did Daddy send you into town for something?”

“Yep. You.”

Cecilia gulped.

“He heard about the new teacher, Cici. He doesn’t like the idea of you staying with Dolly now. ‘Imposing’ is how he put it.”

“Damnation!”

“He’s been stomping around all day, saying you think you’re too good for the rest of us.”

Cecilia puffed up with indignation. “That’s a lie!”