Page 149 of Dirty Discipline, Vol. 1

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you, miss. I just stopped by to thank you for making my girls more settled; they seem much happier this week. Don’t rightly know what you did to achieve it, but I can tell you that those girls of mine have wanted to come to school every single day this week. Knowing they are happy and cared for has removed a burden from my mind, and so I thought I should stop by and thank you.” After this pretty speech, Verity relaxed a little.

“Why Mr. Calhoun, thank you for your praise. I feel real’ sorry for your family’s loss. Naturally, I should like to help the girls feel safer.” She forced a stiff smile. The grin he returned lit up his face. She stared. Mr. Calhoun seemed transformed. Why had she not noticed his good looks before? He was a very handsome man.

Probably because I was scared to death of him after I witnessed him murder that man. She surmised. Yet, was that what she had really and truly witnessed, could she be mistaken about what she’d seen? To cover her confusion, she began to wipe down the blackboard for the second time.

“I wonder if I might prevail upon you to sit with us in church, come Sunday. The girls would like it very much if you did. I thought maybe you might like to come back with us afterwards and join us for lunch at the ranch? I’d make sure you were back in town by dark.” Verity halted mid swipe of the blackboard. This was unforeseen. “I-I’ll give your kind invitation some thought and get back to you. Thank you for the invitation.”

His lip kicked up in an enchanting grin.

“I understand if you’d prefer not to. Folks seem to be giving The Circle C a wide berth at the moment. Can’t say as I blame them, but it is hard on the children. Don’t decide right now you can give it some thought and let me know come Sunday. Until then, Miss Lasse, good day.” He tipped his hat and turned to go, striding toward the door.

“I haven’t refused your invitation, Mr. Calhoun,” she called after his retreating back. Dammit. I’m such a fool. The man is surely a murderer! Just because he has a lovely smile and appears to be a good father, she was actually starting to like him. What on earth was wrong with her? She’d seen him kill a man with her very own eyes, for goodness sakes!

Despite her misgivings, Verity locked up the school and almost skipped back to her lodgings with a light step. All day Saturday she pondered upon Mr. Calhoun. Could she be mistaken in his identity? What if it had merely been a trick of the light? After all, moonshine often distorted one’s vision at night.

That afternoon she tried on her two, formal, ‘Sunday-go-to-meeting’ gowns, just in case he called on her the following day. Finally deciding on her blue sprigged gown rather than her darker, more reserved burgundy outfit, Verity convinced herself her decision was solely based on the fact the material was lighter, and therefore more suited to this warmer weather. Truth be told, she knew the sky-blue floral complimented her cornflower blue eyes and drew masculine eyes to her shapely figure.

However, he didn’t call for her come Sunday morning. Verity acknowledged her disappointment, but dismissed her feelings as immature and foolish. She walked into church behind an elderly couple who moved with a hesitant, slow gait which suited her. It gave her an opportunity to cast her gaze over the town’s congregation.

Mr. Calhoun must have been watching out for her because she saw him rise from his place on a pew and wave in her direction. With a nervous smile, she walked down the aisle to where he and the twins were seated.

“Howdy, Miss Lasse,” Grace trilled while Mercy gave her a wide grin and patted the seat beside her. Verity had little choice other than to sit between the two girls.

“Hello girls, you both look very pretty today. What lovely frocks,” she praised.

“Ma made them for us. Pink for Gracie an’ blue for me!” Mercy explained.

“What a very clever lady your mother must have been. I wish I had been able to meet her,” she replied gently. Grace’s eyes shone with unshed tears, but Mercy nodded solemnly.

“She would have liked you, miss,” the child told her.

Verity liked the fact that Mr. Calhoun hugged Grace into his side and kissed the top of her head. It was hard to imagine this kindly man as a murderer. Verity took Mercy’s hand in her own, and pressed her fingers gently.

“I think perhaps I would have liked her too,” she whispered.

People around them rose to their feet. The pastor had arrived. Verity stood along with the Calhoun family and began to sing the opening hymn along with the congregation. Glancing across at Jake, she was surprised to find him watching her, his expression intense. “Thank you,” he mouthed.

“You’re welcome,” she answered then looked front, to re-join the singing.

Despite her protests to the contrary, the Calhoun family pressed her into accepting their luncheon invitation. Verity concentrated on the girls chatter and forced all thoughts of murder to the back of her mind.

The meal turned out to be surprisingly good. A rich beef stew served with homemade bread to mop up the gravy.

“Quillian, our bunk house cook, has been cooking for us since Meg, Megan...” He glanced across at the twins before adding, “…passed. I can’t seem to get a woman to come work for me since she, er, died.”

Verity nodded sympathetically, glancing over at the twins as they chattered, heads pressed together. They didn’t appear to be listening to them, but she was aware that you could never tell what a child might pick up from an adult conversation.

She liked the spacious single-story ranch house. A huge stone fireplace dominated the main living area. There were wooden rockers dotted about the room, each set with a plump embroidered cushion. A rug woven in similar colors lay upon the floor in front of the hearth. It was a warm and inviting home.

“Meg sewed an awful lot. It was much more than simple dressmaking. She enjoyed embroidery as a hobby,” Jake explained.

“It is lovely, very inviting and homely. I am sorry I didn’t get to meet her,” she told him sincerely.

“I think she’d have liked you.”

She returned his smile. “The furniture is beautiful, and quite unusual.”

“My father made most of it, and I still make pieces to order. There are too many trees hereabouts to make decent living out of running cattle. I made all the beds in the house and carved them too.”

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