Page 148 of Dirty Discipline, Vol. 1

“Come over here and stand before me, please, girls,” she called from where she was seated behind her desk. They obediently came forward, both girls shuffled their feet as they stood in front of her desk.

“I was disappointed by your behaviour today, Mercy. I would have expected you to make more of an effort to impress me on my first day as your new teacher.” Grace looked down at her feet shame faced. Meanwhile, her twin, Mercy, merely kicked her toe, looking surly.

“What is your explanation, young lady?” she asked turning her sternest gaze upon Mercy.

“Please Miss, she’s upset because our mother died,” Grace mumbled. Verity’s heart immediately overflowed with sympathy.

“I’m very sorry to hear that, girls. I too lost my mother as a child. I know how difficult it is to get by without a mother’s love.” She noticed Mercy’s bottom lip tremble.

“Perhaps you should both take tomorrow off and spend the day at home doing the things you enjoy. When you come back to school, if you find lessons get too much for either of you, then I want you to come and tell me. Perhaps I can help in some way… Are we agreed?” she suggested.

“They’re better off here than at home, miss. I can’t be there to watch them and work the ranch at the same time. They need to keep busy. It’s best they remain in school.”

Verity started at the sound of a gruff male voice. She hadn’t noticed the arrival of the very tall man leaning against the door frame, hat in hand. The light from the open door placed his face in shadow. She rose and moved forward to greet him.

It was only when she was a yard or so away from the girls’ father that recognition struck. Blanching, she saw a face she’d last seen under bright moon light several nights ago; a face that haunted her day and night… The face of a murderer.

Her head spun; she felt nauseous. Weakness spread to her outer limbs. Stretching out a hand to a desk top, she steadied herself.

“I know you mean well, miss, but truth be told, the girls are safer in school than at home right now,” he said, crossing to where she stood. He seemed not to notice her pallor.

“Go outside and wait in the buggy,” he instructed the twins. The adults stood silent, waiting until the girls departed. Verity writhed in fear. Her mind raced. Whatever should she do? The door banged shut behind the twins. She gave a violent start. The man finally appeared to notice her tension.

“There’s no cause to be nervous around me, miss. I’m not riled by your suggestion. I’m simply telling you how things are at home right now. See, my wife didn’t just up and die; she was attacked and murdered while she was alone in the ranch house. I don’t want my girls staying out there alone after such violence. D’you see my point?”

“I, why yes, I do. I am so sorry. How awful, Mr...?” She couldn’t for the life of her remember the twins surname she was in such a tizzy. Confusingly, for a killer, the man seemed nice, not how she’d expect a murderer to behave at all. However, she knew from first-hand experience how a person’s character could be deceptive. Just look at her aunt. Society regarded her aunt as some kind of saint. They viewed her as a kindly soul who’d gladly taken in her orphaned niece. Yet nothing could have been further from the truth. Her aunt Susan had wanted the money her parents had set aside for her upbringing. Susan had begrudged every cent she needed to spend on her niece.

“Miss, ma’am?” His voice drew her back to the present.

Verity recalled this man’s wife had been murdered. Chilled by his nearness, she stepped away from the desk. Distancing herself from him.

“Name’s Calhoun. Jake Calhoun, howdy do, miss.” He stepped toward her closing the gap she’d been careful to create, and held out his hand. A tall man, well-muscled from toiling outdoors, he towered over her.

Verity realized she was openly gaping. Snapping her mouth closed, she made a determined effort to pull her wits together. Tentatively she held out her hand which he engulfed within his own warm and calloused hand. She noted his firm grip.

“How do you do? I am, Miss Verity Lasse, the new school teacher.” Talk about stating the obvious. “I took up position as school mistress today. I have to tell you, Mr. Calhoun, that I am concerned about your daughter, Mercy. She is obviously finding it difficult to deal with what has happened to her mother.”

“Yeah, I guess we’re all struggling to come to terms with Megan’s murder, even though it took place several months back. The shock of it seems to have only recently hit the girls. I would hire a housekeeper, but it seems that no good woman wants to work out on a ranch so far out of town… Well, not since my wife was killed leastways.” He shrugged and took to turning his hat slowly around in his hands.

A cold chill seeped down Verity’s spine as the horrible realization struck her that this man might actually be his wife’s killer. After all, hadn’t she witnessed him murder a man in cold blood only last week? What was there to say Calhoun hadn’t killed his own wife too? She edged backwards until she reached her desk and slipped behind it; feeling a bit safer with the sturdy wooden desk between them.

“You have my deepest sympathy. Please rest assured that I’ll do my best to safeguard your children while they are in my care. Good afternoon, Mr. Calhoun,” she said briskly, dismissing him in her best schoolmarm voice.

He stared at her for an uncomfortably long moment before he placed his hat firmly on his head and finally turned away. Once he reached the doorway, Calhoun turned, looked back at her, his eyes shadowed by the brim of his hat. Her heart thumped in her chest. Now what?

“I’m glad to know my girls will be here with you during daylight hours. I like you, Miss Lasse.” With that, the murderer left the schoolhouse.

As the screen door banged shut, Verity went limp with relief. Her breath expelled as she collapsed onto her chair.

Dear Lord, whatever was she to do?

Chapter Two

A restless weekend followed, one where no amount of chores kept her anxiousness at bay. It was with trepidation that Verity returned to the schoolhouse on Monday. Using her ingenuity, she managed to keep both the twins busy all week. Early on, she kept glancing across at the door, fearful that Mr. Calhoun might reappear, but as the middle of the week came and went, she relaxed.

Whenever Mercy began to act a little antsy, she would find a special task for the child, like cleaning the blackboard, or handing out text books. One day she brought apples into school from a surplus growing in Mrs. Campbell’s orchard. She asked the twins to wash them in the water barrel outside before distributing among the other pupils.

Friday crept up fast, she couldn’t believe she’d completed her second week of teaching school. Absorbed with tidying up after the children had left for the weekend, she was startled by the deep clearing of a throat. Spinning around, she saw it was him; Mr. Calhoun. She stumbled backwards.

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