Christmas On His Ranch
Suddenly, she wanted to go home. She wanted to be with her father, at her home. She’d spent her life running away. Now, when things were so dire, it was time to face the past, to reconcile herself with it, and with the community that had unjustly judged her. There would be time left for that, to tie up all the loose ends, to come to grips with her own past.
Her old family doctor, Dr. Harris, was still in Bighorn. She’d get Dr. Claridge to send him her medical files and she’d go from there. Perhaps Dr. Harris might have some different ideas about how she could face the ordeal. If nothing could be done, then at least she could spend her remaining time with the only family she had left.
Once the decision was made, she acted on it at once. She turned in her resignation and told Barrie that her father needed her at home.
“You didn’t say that when you first came back,” Barrie said suspiciously.
“Because I was thinking about it,” she lied. She smiled. “Barrie, he’s so alone. And it’s time I went back and faced my dragons. I’ve been running too long already.”
“But what will you do?” Barrie asked.
“I’ll get a job as a relief teacher. Dad said that two of the elementary school teachers were expecting and they didn’t know what they’d do for replacements. Bighorn isn’t exactly Tucson, you know. It’s not that easy to get teachers who are willing to live at the end of the world.”
Barrie sighed. “You really have thought this out.”
“Yes. I’ll miss you. But maybe you’ll come back one day,” she added. “And fight your own dragons.”
Barrie shivered. “Mine are too big to fight,” she said with an enigmatic smile. “But I’ll root for you. What can I help you do?”
“Pack,” came the immediate reply.
As fate would have it, when she contacted her old school system in Bighorn, one of the pregnant teachers had just had to go into the hospital with toxemia and they needed a replacement desperately for a fourth-grade class. It was just what Antonia wanted, and she accepted gratefully. Best of all, there had been no discussion of the reason she’d left town in the first place. Some people would remember, but she had old friends there, too, friends who wouldn’t hold grudges. Powell would be there. She refused to even entertain the idea that he had any place in her reasons for wanting to go home.
She arrived in Bighorn with mixed emotions. It made her feel wonderful to see her father’s delighted expression when he was told she was coming back there to live permanently. But she felt guilty, too, because he couldn’t know the real reason for her return.
“We’ll have plenty of time to visit, now,” she said. “Arizona was too hot to suit me, anyway,” she added mischievously.
“Well, if you like snow, you’ve certainly come home at a good time,” he replied, grinning at the five feet or so that lay in drifts in the front yard.
Antonia spent the weekend unpacking and then went along to work the following Monday. She liked the principal, a young woman with very innovative ideas about education. She remembered two of her fellow teachers, who had been classmates of hers in high school, and neither of them seemed to have any misgivings about her return.
She liked her class, too. She spent the first day getting to know the children’s names. But one of them hit her right in the heart. Maggie Long. It could have been a coincidence. But when she called the girl’s name and a sullen face with blue eyes and short black hair looked up at her, she knew right away who it was. That was Sally’s face, except for the glare. The glare was Powell all over again.
She lifted her chin and stared at the child. She passed over her and went on down the line until she reached Julie Ames. She smiled at Julie, who smiled back sweetly. She remembered Danny Ames from school, too, and his redheaded daughter was just like him. She’d have known Danny’s little girl anywhere.
She pulled out her predecessor’s lesson plan and looked over it before she took the spelling book and began making assignments.
“One other thing I’d like you to do for Friday is write a one-page essay about yourselves,” she added with a smile. “So that I can learn something about you, since I’ve come in the middle of the year instead of the first.”
Julie raised her hand. “Miss Hayes, Mrs. Donalds always assigned one of us to be class monitor when she was out of the room. Whoever she picked got to do it for a week, and then someone else did. Are you going to do that, too?”
“I think that’s a good idea, Julie. You can be our monitor for this week,” she added pleasantly.
“Thanks, Miss Hayes!” Julie said enthusiastically.
Behind her, Maggie Long glared even more. The child acted as if she hated Antonia, and for a minute, Antonia wondered if she knew about the past. But, then, how could she? She was being fanciful.
She dismissed the class at quitting time. It had been nice to have her mind occupied, not to have to think about herself. But with the end of the day came the terror again. And she still hadn’t talked to Dr. Harris.
She made an appointment to see him when she got home, smiling at her father as she told him glibly that it was only because she needed some vitamins.
Dr. Harris, however, was worried when she told him Dr. Claridge’s diagnosis.
“You shouldn’t wait,” he said flatly. “It’s always best to catch these things early. Come here, Antonia.”
He examined her neck with skilled hands, his eyes on the wall behind her. “Swollen lymph nodes, all right. You’ve lost weight?” he asked as he took her pulse.
“Yes. I’ve been working rather hard,” she said lamely.
“Sore throat?”
She hesitated and then nodded.
He let out a long sigh. “I’ll have him fax me your medical records,” he said. “There’s a specialist in Sheridan who’s done oncology,” he added. “But you should go back to Tucson, Antonia.”
“Tell me what to expect,” she said instead.
He was reluctant, but when she insisted, he drew in a deep breath and told her.
She sat back in her chair, pale and restless.
“You can fight it,” he persisted. “You can hold it at bay.”
“For how long?”
“Some people have been in remission for twenty-five years.”
She narrowed her eyes as she gazed at him. “But you don’t really believe I’ll have twenty-five years.”
His jaw firmed. “Antonia, medical research is progressing at a good pace. There’s always, always, the possibility that a cure will be discovered….”
She held up a hand. “I don’t want to have to decide today,” she said wearily. “I just need…a little time,” she added with a pleading smile. “Just a little time.”
He looked as if he were biting his tongue to keep from arguing with her. “All right. A little time,” he said emphatically. “I’ll look after you. Perhaps when you’ve considered the options, you’ll go ahead with the treatment, and I’ll do everything I can. But, Antonia,” he added as he stood up to show her out, “there aren’t too many miracles in this business where cancer is concerned. If you’re going to fight, don’t wait too long.”
“I won’t.”
She shook hands and left the office. She felt more at peace with herself now than she could ever remember feeling. Somehow in the course of accepting the diagnosis, she’d accepted something much more. She was stronger now. She could face whatever she had to. She was so glad she’d come home. Fate had dealt her some severe blows, but being home helped her to withstand the worst of them. She had to believe that fate would be kinder to her now that she was home.
But if fate had kind reasons for bringing her back to Bighorn, Maggie Long wasn’t one of them. The girl was unruly, troublesome and refused to do her schoolwork at all.
By the end of the week, Antonia kept her after class and showed her the zero she’d earned for her nonattempt at the spelling test. There was another one looming, because Maggie hadn’t done one word of the essay Antonia had assigned the class to write.
“If you want to repeat the fourth grade, Maggie, this is a good start,” she said coolly. “If you won’t do your schoolwork, you won’t pass.”
“Mrs. Donalds wasn’t mean like you,” the girl said snappily. “She never made us write stupid essays, and if there was a test, she always helped me study for it.”
“I have thirty-five students in this class,” Antonia heard herself saying. “Presumably you were placed in this grade because you were capable of doing the work.”
“I could do it if I wanted to,” Maggie said. “I just don’t want to. And you can’t make me, either!”
“I can fail you,” came the terse, uncompromising reply. “And I will, if you keep this up. You have one last chance to escape a second zero for the essay you haven’t done. You can do it over the weekend and turn it in Monday.”
“My daddy’s coming home today,” she said haughtily. “I’m going to tell him that you’re mean to me, and he’ll come and cuss you out, you just wait and see!”
“What will he see, Maggie?” she asked flatly. “What does it say about you if you won’t do your work?”
“I’m not lazy!”
“Then do your assignment.”
“Julie didn’t do all of her test, and you didn’t give her a zero!”
“Julie doesn’t work as fast as some of the other students. I take that into account,” Antonia explained.
“You like Julie,” she accused. “That’s why you never act mean to her! I’ll bet you wouldn’t give her a zero if she didn’t do her homework!”
“This has nothing to do with your ability to do your work,” Antonia interrupted. “And I’m not going to argue with you. Either do your homework or don’t do it. Now run along.”
Maggie gave her a furious glare. She jerked up her books and stomped out of the room, turning at the door. “You wait until I tell my daddy! He’ll get you fired!”
Antonia lifted an eyebrow. “It will take more than your father to do that, Maggie.”
The girl jerked open the door. “I hate you! I wish you’d never come here!” she yelled.
She ran down the hallway and Antonia sat back and caught her breath. The child was a holy terror. She was a little surprised that she was so unlike her mother in that one way. Sally, for all her lying, had been sweet in the fourth grade, an amiable child, not a horror like Maggie.
Sally. The name hurt. Just the name. Antonia had come home to exorcise her ghosts and she wasn’t doing a very good job of it. Maggie was making her life miserable. Perhaps Powell would interfere, at least enough to get his daughter to do her homework. She hated that it had come to this, but she hadn’t anticipated the emotions Maggie’s presence in her class had unleashed. She was sorry that she couldn’t like the child. She wondered if anyone did. She seemed little more than a sullen, resentful brat.
Powell probably adored the child and gave her everything she wanted. But she did ride the bus to and from school and more often than not, she showed up for class in torn jeans and stained sweatshirts. Was that deliberate, and didn’t her father notice that some of her things weren’t clean? Surely he had a housekeeper or someone to take care of such things.
She knew that Maggie had been staying with Julie this week, because Julie had told her so. The little redheaded Ames girl was the sweetest child Antonia had ever known, and she adored her. She really was the image of her father, who’d been in Antonia’s group of friends in school here in Bighorn. She’d told Julie that, and the child had been a minor celebrity for a day. It gave her something to be proud of, that her father and her teacher had been friends.
Maggie hadn’t liked that. She’d given Julie the cold shoulder yesterday and they weren’t speaking today. Antonia wondered at their friendship, because Julie was outgoing and generous, compassionate and kind…all the things Maggie wasn’t. Probably the child saw qualities in Julie that she didn’t have and liked her for them. But what in the world did Julie see in Maggie?
Chapter Four
Powell Long came home from his cattle-buying trip worn out from the long hours on the plane and the hectic pace of visiting three ranches in three states in less than a week. He could have purchased his stud cattle after watching a video, and he sometimes did if he knew the seller, but he was looking over new territory for his stock additions, and he wanted to inspect the cattle in person before he made the acquisition. It was a good thing he had, because one of the ranches had forwarded a video that must have been of someone else’s cattle. When he toured the ranch, he found the stock were underfed, and some were lacking even the basic requirements for good breeding bulls.
Still, it had been a profitable trip. He’d saved several thousand dollars on seed bulls simply by going to visit the ranchers in person. Now he was home again and he didn’t want to be. His house, like his life, was full of painful memories. Here was where Sally had lived, where her daughter still lived. He couldn’t look at Maggie without seeing her mother. He bought the child expensive toys, whatever her heart desired. But he couldn’t give her love. He didn’t think he had it in him to love the product of such a painful marriage. Sally had cost him the thing he’d loved most in all the world. She’d cost him Antonia.
Maggie was sitting alone in the living room with a book. She looked up when he entered the room with eyes that avoided his almost at once.
“Did you bring me something?” she asked dully. He always did. It was just one more way of making her feel that she was important to him, but she knew better. He didn’t even know what she liked, or he wouldn’t bring her silly stuffed toys and dolls. She liked to read, but he hadn’t noticed. She also liked nature films and natural history. He never brought her those sort of things. He didn’t even know who she was.
“I brought you a new Barbie,” he said. “It’s in my suitcase.”
“Thanks,” she said.
Never a smile. Never laughter. She was a little old woman in a child’s body, and looking at her made him feel guilty.
“Where’s Mrs. Bates?” he asked uncomfortably.
“In the kitchen cooking,” she said.
“How’s school?”
She closed the book. “We got a new teacher last week. She doesn’t like me,” she said. “She’s mean to me.”
His eyebrows lifted. “Why?”
She shrugged, her thin shoulders rising and falling restlessly. “I don’t know. She likes everybody else. She glares at me all the time. She gave me a zero on my test, and she’s going to give me another zero on my homework. She says I’m going to fail fourth grade.”
He was shocked. Maggie had always made good grades. One thing she did seem to have was a keen intelligence, even if her perpetual frown and introverted nature made her enemies. She had no close friends, except for Julie. He’d left Maggie with Julie’s family, in fact, last week. They were always willing to keep her while he was out of town.
He glowered at her. “Why are you here instead of at Julie’s house?” he demanded suddenly.
“I told them you were coming home and I wanted to be here, because you always bring me something,” she said.
“Oh.”
She didn’t add that Julie’s friendship with the detestable Miss Hayes had caused friction, or that they’d had a terrible argument just this morning, precipitating Maggie’s return home. Fortunately Mrs. Bates was working in the house, so that it was possible for her to be here.
“The new teacher likes Julie,” she said sullenly.
“But she hates me. She says I’m lazy and stupid.”
“She says what?”
That was the first time her father had ever reacted in such a way, as if it really mattered to him that someone didn’t like her. She looked at him fully, seeing that angry flash of his black eyes that always meant trouble for somebody. Her father intimidated her. But, then, he intimidated everyone. He didn’t like most people any more than she did. He was introverted himself, and he had a bad temper and a sarcastic manner when people irritated him. Over the years Maggie had discovered that she could threaten people with her father, and it always worked.
Locally he was a legend. Most of her teachers had bent over backward to avoid confrontations with him. Maggie learned quickly that she didn’t have to study very hard to make good grades. Not that she wasn’t bright; she simply didn’t try, because she didn’t need to. She smiled. Wouldn’t it be nice, she thought, if she could use him against Miss Hayes?
“She says I’m lazy and stupid,” she repeated.
“What’s this teacher’s name?” he asked coldly.
“Miss Hayes.”
He was very still. “Antonia Hayes?” he asked curtly.
“I don’t know her first name. She came on account of Mrs. Donalds quit,” she said. “Mrs. Donalds was my friend. I miss her.”
“When did Miss Hayes get here?” he asked, surprised that he’d heard nothing about her returning to Bighorn. Of course, he’d been out of town for a week, too.
“I told you—last week. They said she used to live here.” She studied his hard face. It looked dangerous. “Did she, Daddy?”
“Yes,” he said with icy contempt. “Yes, she used to live here. Well, we’ll see how Miss Hayes handles herself with another adult,” he added.
He went to the telephone and picked it up and dialed the principal of the Bighorn Elementary School.
Mrs. Jameson was surprised to hear Powell Long on the other end of the phone. She’d never known him to interfere in school matters before, even when Maggie was up to her teeth in trouble with another student.
“I want to know why you permit an educator to tell a child that she’s lazy and stupid,” he demanded.
There was a long pause. “I beg your pardon?” the principal asked, shocked.
“Maggie said that Miss Hayes told her she was lazy and stupid,” he said shortly. “I want that teacher talked to, and talked to hard. I don’t want to have to come up there myself. Is that clear?”
Mrs. Jameson knew Powell Long. She was intimidated enough to agree that she’d speak to Antonia on Monday.
And she did. Reluctantly.
“I had a call from Maggie Long’s father Friday afternoon after you left,” Mrs. Jameson told Antonia, who was sitting rigidly in front of her in her office. “I don’t believe for a minute that you’d deliberately make insulting remarks to that child. Heaven knows, every teacher in this school except Mrs. Donalds has had trouble with her, although Mr. Long has never interfered. It’s puzzling that he would intervene, and that Maggie would say such things about you.”
“I haven’t called her stupid,” Antonia said evenly. “I have told her that if she refuses to do her homework and write down the answers on tests, she will be given a failing grade. I’ve never made a policy of giving undeserved marks, or playing favorites.”
“I’m sure you haven’t,” Mrs. Jameson replied. “Your record in Tucson is spotless. I even spoke to your principal there, who was devastated to have lost you. He speaks very highly of your intelligence and your competence.”
“I’m glad. But I don’t know what to do about Maggie,” she continued. “She doesn’t like me. I’m sorry about that, but I don’t know what I can do to change her attitude. If she could only be helpful like her friend Julie,” she added. “Julie is a first-rate little student.”
“Everyone loves Julie,” the principal agreed. She folded her hands on her desk. “I have to ask you this, Antonia. Is it possible that unconsciously you might be taking out old hurts on Maggie? I know that you were engaged to her father once…. It’s a small town,” she added apologetically when Antonia stiffened, “and one does hear gossip. I also know that Maggie’s mother broke you up and spread some pretty terrible lies about you in the community.”
“There are people who still don’t think they were lies,” Antonia replied tersely. “My mother eventually died because of the pressure and censure the community put on her because of them.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know that.”
“She had a bad heart. I left town, to keep the talk to a minimum, but she never got over it.” Her head lifted, and she forced a weak smile. “I was innocent of everything I had been accused of, but I paid the price anyway.”
Mrs. Jameson looked torn. “I shouldn’t have brought it up.”
“Yes, you should,” Antonia replied. “You had the right to know if I was deliberately persecuting a student. I despised Sally for what she did to me, and I have no more love for Maggie’s father than for his late wife. But I hope I’m not such a bad person that I’d try to make a child suffer for something she didn’t do.”
“Nor do I believe you would, consciously,” Mrs. Jameson replied. “It’s a touchy situation, though. Mr. Long has enormous influence in the community. He’s quite wealthy and his temper is legendary in these parts. He has no compunction about making scenes in public, and he threatened to come up here himself if this situation isn’t resolved.” She laughed a little unsteadily. “Miss Hayes, I’m forty-five years old. I’ve worked hard all my life to achieve my present status. It would be very difficult for me to find another job if I lost this one, and I have an invalid husband to support and a son in college. I plead with you not to put my job in jeopardy.”
“I never would do that,” Antonia promised. “I’d quit before I’d see an innocent person hurt by my actions. But Mr. Long is very wrong about the way his daughter is being treated. In fact, she’s causing the problems. She refuses to do her work and she knows that I can’t force her to.”
“She certainly does. She’ll go to her father, and he’ll light fires under members of the school board. I believe at least one of them owes him money, in fact, and the other three are afraid of him.” She cleared her throat. “I’ll tell you flat that I’m afraid of him, myself.”
“No freedom of speech in these parts, I gather?”
“If your freedom impinges on his prejudices, no, there isn’t,” Mrs. Jameson agreed. “He’s something of a tyrant in his way. We certainly can’t fault him for being concerned about his child, though.”
“No,” Antonia agreed. She sighed. Her own circumstances were tenuous, to say the least. She had her own problems and fear gnawed at her all the time. She wasn’t afraid of Powell Long, though. She was more afraid of what lay ahead for her.
“You will try…about Maggie?” Mrs. Jameson added.
Antonia smiled. “Certainly I will. But may I come to you if the problem doesn’t resolve itself and ask for help?”
“If there’s any to give, you may.” She grimaced. “I have my own doubts about Maggie’s cooperation. And we both have a lot to lose if her father isn’t happy.”
“Do you want me to pass her anyway?” Antonia asked. “To give her grades she hasn’t earned, because her father might be upset if she fails?”
Mrs. Jameson flushed. “I can’t tell you to do that, Miss Hayes. We’re supposed to educate children, not pass them through favoritism.”
“I know that,” Antonia said.
“But you wondered if I did,” came the dry reply. “Yes, I do. But I’m job scared. When you’re my age, Miss Hayes,” she added gently, “I can guarantee that you will be, too.”
Antonia’s eyes were steady and sad. She knew that she might never have the problem; she might not live long enough to have it. She thanked Mrs. Jameson and went back to her classroom, morose and dejected.
Maggie watched her as she sat down at her desk and instructed the class to proceed with their English lesson. She didn’t look very happy. Her father must have shaken them up, Maggie thought victoriously. Well, she wasn’t going to do that homework or do those tests. And when she failed, her father would come storming up here, because he never doubted his little girl’s word. He’d have Miss Hayes on the run in no time. Then maybe Mrs. Donalds would have her baby and come back, and everything would be all right again. She glared at Julie, who just ignored her. She was sick of Julie, kissing up to Miss Hayes. Julie was a real sap. Maggie wasn’t sure who she disliked more—Julie or Miss Hayes.
There was one nice touch, and that was that Miss Hayes coolly told her that she had until Friday to turn in her essay and the other homework that Antonia had assigned the class.