Christmas Kiss From The Sheriff

He had come a time or two before over the months that she had been teaching, but this was more often...and more obvious. Had Mr. Tanner said something to him? Were they worried that she could not handle the students on her own?

The quiet in the schoolroom once more permeated her thoughts.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Shalbot. Please continue.”

Charley Shalbot began reading again in a halting voice. He was having difficulty with the long paragraph, but he bravely plowed through it. Gemma had to admire his tenacity. In the back row, Duncan sprawled across his seat looking bored and restless. Actually, a number of the children had had enough book learning for the morning. It was time to break for the noon refreshment whether it was timed to the sheriff’s arrival or not.

When the end of the day came, she dismissed the class and followed the children outside. She watched over them as they started on their way home—something she did every afternoon. Her gaze wandered to the tie line. The old mule hadn’t been back—just as Billy and Tara hadn’t been back to school since the altercation between Duncan and Billy. Hopefully, she would be able to speak with the children when she saw Mrs. Odom tomorrow.

A movement near the bend in the road caught her attention. A short, bent-over man with a shock of stringy gray hair showing under his brown hat stood watching the children head off in different directions. He leaned on a walking stick that came up to his chest. His overalls and cotton shirt were stained with grass and mud. A wave of unease filled her. It was the second time she’d noticed him on the edge of the clearing since the beginning of school.

“You there!” she called.

Either he didn’t hear her or he was ignoring her. She started toward him.

At her movement, he raised his head and stared at her for a moment. Then he turned and shuffled into the trees.

“That’s Larabee.”

She spun around, startled at the deep voice so near to her.

Duncan Philmont stood only a few inches away, his arm above his head as he leaned against the doorframe.

Her heart pounded as she splayed her hand over her chest. “Duncan! I thought you’d already left.”

A cocky grin inched up his face and amusement filled his green eyes.

She didn’t enjoy being startled—even less so after the raccoon incident. She pressed her lips together. He stood a bit too close for her comfort, close enough that she could see he was growing dark facial hair now. “Larabee, you say?”

“Yeah. He’s an old-timer around these parts.”

“Is he...friendly?” Her heartbeat slowed back to normal.

Duncan shrugged. “He don’t talk to folks much.”

“Why?”

The familiar cynical glint returned to his eyes. “Most think he’s off in the head.”

Duncan always seemed to challenge her, and she wondered if he still resented her earlier treatment when he and Billy had their fight. Then she recalled the footprints in the grass. Could they belong to Larabee instead of one of the older boys? “Would he be a danger to the younger children?”

Duncan straightened.

For a moment, he looked surprised that she would ask him his opinion. She supposed that was to be expected. Usually she didn’t ask her students questions unless they were rhetorical. That’s what her experience had been growing up with her tutors. “I’m sure you know better than I would. You are from here. You know more of the local people.”

He cocked his head and peered down at her as if debating with himself whether to answer or not.

The look reminded her of his father the other night at the meeting. She had had enough of his attitude and to show it, she fisted her hands on her hips and faced him. “Is this about the other day? The fight?”

He didn’t answer.

“What was the fight about, Duncan?”

His lower jaw jutted out stubbornly. “Ain’t none of your business.”

“None of my business! I should say it is! It happened on school property.”

“It’s between me and Billy. Gave our words and spit on it.”

That didn’t make any sense to her. They made some sort of spit bond and then had a fight? She would never understand boys. Never. “Do you realize that some of the younger boys were betting? And I’m sure their parents have learned of it by now. There could be ramifications. I need to know why you were fighting. If there is a problem between you two and it isn’t resolved, how do I know it won’t happen again?”

“It won’t,” he said sullenly.

“I cannot force you to tell me,” she said, disappointed. “I hope someday you will. You and Billy are both intelligent boys and you have a good future ahead of you. I hate to see you bent on hurting each other.” He was a bit too much like his father, but hopefully those sharp edges would round out as he matured. “I...I wish you’d told me about your tooth.”

“You heard about that?” He asked, his tone guarded, but much less antagonistic.

“I should have asked if you were all right. I’m sorry I didn’t.”

He lifted his chin. “Weren’t nothin’.”

“It must have hurt. And you didn’t say a word.”

He swallowed. “You shouldn’ta got so near Billy and me. Stupid thing to do, Teach.”

“Should not...” On the cusp of correcting his grammar she stopped herself. It was more important that he was talking to her—that they were actually having a conversation. It was a first between them without his belligerent attitude getting in the way. Instead, she asked gently, “Please don’t call me Teach. Is there something you wished to discuss?” She wasn’t entirely sure why he was hanging around.

When he didn’t answer, she persisted. “Something about your homework?”

He snorted. “Naw.”

“Well, won’t your father be waiting for you at the land office?”

He blew out a breath, his scowl deepening. “Yeah. Guess so.” He grabbed his coat from the bench, hooked his finger into the collar and slung it over his shoulder. “See you, Miss Starling,” he mumbled as he strode by and down the steps of the school.

At least he hadn’t called her Teach.

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