Carla Kelly Read Free Page B

tipped his bowler hat to her. “I know this is forward, miss, but are you the new schoolteacher for Winter Quarters?” he asked, leaning across the aisle. “Mr. Bowman—he teaches grades four through six—mentioned a teacher was due any time now. I'm on the school board.”
    “Yes, sir. I'm Miss Anders,” she said, leaning toward him to hold out her hand.
    “Emil Isgreen.” He shook her hand. “Do you mind?” he asked, indicating the seat across from her.
    I'd better not mind; you're on the school board , she thought as she gave him her sunniest smile.
    He joined her, taking off his bowler and setting his black bag at his feet. She looked at the bag, which had the initials E.I., and looked like a physician's satchel. His eyes followed the direction of her gaze.
    “I'm the Winter Quarters surgeon,” he explained. “I've been visiting my folks in Tooele.”
    “Pleased to meet you,” she said. She couldn't help notice that his own accent had a lilt to it, which made her suspect he was one of the many in Winter Quarters that Uncle Jesse said were at least some part foreign. “Are there many physicians in Winter Quarters?”
    “I'm the only one,” he told her. “I work for the Pleasant Valley Coal Company.” His expression turned wry. “And probably will for a few more years until my loans have been whittled down. Doctor Bascom works in Scofield, so there are two of us.”
    “Is there a hospital?” she asked, interested.
    “There is. It's right at the mouth of Winter Quarters Canyon.”
    “How many children do you have in the school?”
    “I worked my way through medical school and couldn't find a wealthy woman to support me,” he joked. “No wife, no children. Bishop Parmley wanted me on the school board because I do twice yearly health visits to the school.”
    “Parmley. Parmley. Uncle Jesse mentioned him,” she said.
    “He's the Winter Quarters mine superintendent and the bishop. Are you … ? Do you go to … ?”
    “Yes, I'm a Mormon,” she told him, recognizing all the hints.
    “Same here. My parents joined the church in Scandinavia and met in a handcart company.”
    Uncle Jesse is proving his case , she thought. I doubt the good doctor's first language was English . “What about I. W. Bowman, the upper grades teacher?” she asked. “I took this job on such a whim and know so little about Winter Quarters.”
    “Israel? You'll like him. He's from Ohio and one of the few bona fide Yankee Doodles in the camp. I suspect he has a sweetheart in Provo. He spends all available weekends there, at any rate.” The doctor interpreted her expression correctly. “Miss Anders, everyone knows everyone's business, so if you have any deep, dark secrets …”
    “… I'll never reveal that I'm Russian nobility, coming to teach miners’ children to make good a bet,” she finished.
    He smiled at that. “I'd have thought Helen of Troy, or maybe the Winged Victory of Samothrace.”
    “This face hasn't launched even one ship yet,” she said, pleased that he knew his mythology. “My mother was Greek, though.” She thought of the times Aunt Caroline ordered her never to mention her mother or her father, and she felt a certain comfort in telling this inquisitive man even as little as that.
    “In Winter Quarters, we all come from somewhere else,” Dr. Isgreen replied. “That's the nature of mining camps.”
    She nodded, remembering the Molly Bee and Pa's determination to make his fortune in silver. Poor Pa—the only silver he ever ended up with was his silver-finished coffin plate.
    “You will like this about the school—two years ago the school district replaced the log building with a frame one. It has one story so far, and a gymnasium in the basement. Your classroom will be on the main floor. You'll probably have at least thirty students.”
    “So many?”
    He shrugged. “Lots of Mormons. Lots of children.” He looked at her closely, trained by his profession to observe, or maybe inclined