The Teacher's Mail Order Bride Read Free

very busy school season I was given the student list. It doesn’t always happen this way, but this school year, there will be students in almost each level. In a single-room schoolhouse, that’s very challenging.”
    “Oh,” Suzanne said, her hand on her chest. “I can’t imagine trying to teach the twins alongside older children on my own.”
    “Precisely.” Mr. Tate pulled his eyes away from the ice cream table and the school board president. “I’ve requested funding for an assistant, but I’m not sure yet whether it will be approved. I sure hope it does, though, and fast.”
    Rose closed her eyes, visualizing the small schoolhouse with its desks in neat rows. She opened them, glancing at the twins, wondering how it might be possible for Mr. Tate to teach students the likes of her sixteen-year-old sister, Pepper, and Lucy and Lily at the same time. She glanced over at the Widow Samson and took a step backwards as she approached Mr. Tate.
    The widow pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve and dabbed at her cheeks and neck, and Rose squinted her eyes to see what the odd-looking brooch on her shoulder represented. A dove? A panther?
    “What are you staring at, young lady?” The widow pounded her parasol onto the dirt as she glared at Rose.
    Rose looked at her feet as her heart clenched. She hadn’t meant to cause a problem, although it was a fairly simple thing to do with Widow Samson. “I was just admiring your brooch, ma’am.” Rose looked up to see the widow stroking the brooch.
    “Ah, thank you, my dear. It is my mourning brooch and contains a lock of Mr. Samson’s hair.” She smiled down at it and dabbed at her eyes.
    Rose glanced at the others and relief washed over her as she noticed the looks between them. Although such items were common, it was not common to continue wearing them four years on, and she was pleased to know that her friends and family felt the same.
    The Widow Samson shook her head and turned to Mr. Tate. “I wanted to let you know, young man, that the committee had an impromptu meeting and decided that with all of the supplies and books required for this school year—and your very high salary—we will be unable to approve your request for an assistant. I would hope, with your very lofty credentials, however, that you would be able to manage perfectly well on your own.” She turned on her heel and headed toward her seat at the ice cream table, tucking a strand of wiry, gray hair under her hat and patting her broach.
    The cool autumn breeze rustled through the pecan tree and Mr. Tate looked up as the leaves fell, holding his hands out to catch some while the others either shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot or looked at their feet in the awkward silence.
    Rose opened her hand, feeling the cool leaves falling onto her palm. “Maybe we could get some volunteers.”
    “That’s a brilliant idea, Rose.” Suzanne clapped her hands together in delight. “I would love to volunteer, but could only do it part time as I need to be at the mercantile for at least the late mornings.”
    Rose’s head snapped up. She hadn’t realized that thought had escaped and turned into words. She dropped the leaves and smoothed her skirt.
    Mr. Tate smiled, his eyes bright. “Well, thank you, Miss...Miss...I don’t believe I caught your name earlier.” He took off his hat and held in to his chest.
    “Rose. Rose Archer.”
    “I believe you may have found a good solution, Miss Archer. At least for one of my difficulties. Thank you.” He bowed slightly in her direction and turned back to Suzanne. “I’d be delighted, Mrs. Davis, if you could volunteer, even if not every day.” He frowned and looked over at the Widow Samson. “If I meet with approval for the idea, I will see if I can find any other volunteers.”
    Heat crept up Rose’s neck as he turned his deep brown eyes toward her again, his eyes twinkling. “I believe you may have saved me.”
    As they watched him stride over to the