Fourteen

“ ‘It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness.’ ”

Dori flung the worn copy of A Tale of Two Cities to her desk in the Diamond S schoolroom and cast a longing glance out the window. A hint of frost glistened in the sunlight, and the whinny of horses in the corral was enough to drive her to distraction. “Studying about the French Revolution on a day like this is foolish,” she grumbled. “Charles Dickens was wrong. Not being able to ride until afternoon is the ‘worst of times.’ ” She slumped in her seat and silently dared her teacher or Sarah to challenge her.

Katie O’Riley’s emerald eyes darkened. Her usually laughter-filled voice turned to ice. “You’re for knowing nothing about the worst of times,” she retorted.

Dori felt ashamed of her outburst but felt compelled to defend herself. “It was the worst of times when I was in Boston. You can’t imagine how bad—”

“Can’t imagine?” Katie cut her off midsentence. She placed her hands on her hips, elbows akimbo, and tossed her red head. Every freckle stood out on her pink and white skin. “It’s you who can’t be for imagining what real hardship is. Hundreds of thousands of men, women, and children died from hunger during the Irish Potato Famine in the 1840s. Mother and Da nearly starved to death. For years they hoarded money to purchase passage to America, though ’twas sorely needed for food.”

Dori’s insides twisted at the pain in Katie’s face. Her own face burned. How could she have been so insensitive? Whenever Katie was at repose, her usually merry face revealed a sadness that should have warned Dori that life had not always been easy for the Irish colleen. Yet caught up with herself, Dori hadn’t known or cared about Katie’s story.

Her teacher wasn’t finished. Her eyes blazed and words poured out like water over a broken dam. “Conditions on the journey in those times were so unspeakable that the ships were called ‘coffin boats.’ If it hadn’t been for the mercy of our heavenly Father, Mother and Da would have been among the hundreds who died at sea. Even when they reached the ‘Promised Land,’ as America was said to be, their troubles weren’t over. Irish ‘micks’ weren’t welcome.

“I was born in a New York City tenement. Da worked on the docks. Mother took in washing. We were mocked and despised.” Katie’s lips trembled. “The hard work finished what the famine and terrible journey began. Mother and Da went home to heaven a few years back.”

Sarah, who had remained quiet during Katie’s story, gasped. “How did you live?”

Katie proudly raised her head. “Irishwomen aren’t for giving up. I hired myself out to a wealthy woman who was more interested in society doings than in her children. But I wanted more than being a nursemaid all my life. The master of the house had a great library. When he saw I hungered to learn, he told me to help myself to his books.”

Enthralled by the story, Dori burst out, “How did you end up here?”

Some of the tension left Katie’s pretty face. “The Father in heaven was surely looking out for me,” she reverently said. “The master had business connections everywhere. A little over a year ago, a man from Fresno wrote asking if the master knew anyone capable of handling his three motherless daughters. I’d always wanted to see the West and agreed.” She sighed. “All was for going well until the flood.”

Dori straightened. The threat of winter flooding was a fact of life. This year, the Fancher, Red, and Big Dry creeks had surged into Fresno. Despite the townspeople’s best efforts, the flood could not be controlled. It swept through town, tearing down hastily-constructed levees and leaving the streets under so much water folks had to be rescued by boat.

“Were you caught in the flood?” Dori breathlessly asked Katie.

She shook her curly red head. “No. But the worst-hit building was the schoolhouse. A foot-deep layer of mud covered the first floor. It will take weeks to repair. The master decided this was a good time to send his daughters to a school for young ladies in San Francisco for spring term.”

“I hope they have better luck there than I did in Boston.”

Katie’s eyes twinkled for the first time since the conversation had taken a disastrous turn. “At least they are too young to interest an English dancing master,” she teased. Dori groaned, but the next moment Katie grew serious.

“The master asked to wed me, but I had no love for him, nor he for me. He was just for being kind.” A look of awe crossed her expressive face. “I prayed to our Father in heaven, and a few days later, the master came in with news. He’d heard that a Mr. Matthew Sterling was looking for a teacher. Your brother came to Fresno and fetched me here.” She added in a choky-sounding voice, “It’s been like I found a home.” Bright tears fell.

Dori couldn’t speak, but Sarah quickly slipped her arm around Katie and said, “This is your home, Katie, for as long as you want to stay.” Mischief filled her blue eyes. “I’m just not sure how long that will be. If my eyes don’t deceive me, a certain young cowpuncher will have something to say about that.”

Katie turned scarlet, but Dori’s heart leaped to her throat. She stared at the two. Did Sarah mean. . .surely she couldn’t think. . .was the young cowpuncher Seth? Just a little shorter than Matt, and not quite as broad-shouldered, Seth’s crown of hair glowed as brightly as his sister’s. It contrasted nicely with his richly tanned face and made his eyes look bluer than ever. Astride Copper, the cowboy was attractive enough to capture any girl’s attention.

Confusion fell on Dori like a saddle blanket on Splotches. According to Solita, Seth had been keeping company with Abby Sheridan. Had he transferred his affections to Katie? Well, why not? Any man who won the Irish maiden’s heart would be blessed.

Jealousy as green as Katie’s plaid dress sped through Dori and battled with disgust for feeling that way. After what Katie had gone through, she deserved happiness. Unbidden, a prayer winged its way upward. Please, just don’t let it be with Seth. There are plenty of other single men to choose from. A little voice inside mocked, Then why don’t you take one of them?

Heat rushed to Dori’s face. That was not a question she wanted to answer.

Reprieve came in the form of a knock on the schoolroom door and the sound of chattering. “Are you ladies finished in there?” Matt called. “The children are here for their lesson, and I need to see Dori.”

Katie pulled away from Sarah. “Just a minute, please.” She quickly crossed to Dori, who stood frozen. “Will you be for forgiving me for losing my temper?”

Dori shook her head. “You’re the one who needs to forgive. I didn’t know.” She impulsively held out her hand. “Friends again?”

“Of course.” Katie looked surprised. “Irish temper is like the wind. It comes without warning then is gone, poof.” She pressed Dori’s hand and grinned. “Better run along and see what your brother wants.”

“Wonder what I’ve done now?” Dori whispered. She stepped outside and blinked in the sunlight. Matt and Seth stood nearby, arms crossed and gazes fixed on her.

“Seth has something to say to you,” Matt said. “I’ll leave you to him, but before I go, you need to know I approve of everything he’s going to tell you.” He walked away, leaving Dori speechless and staring after him.

Dori’s mouth fell open. What was Seth going to say to her that had her brother’s approval? It didn’t—it couldn’t mean Seth had received permission from Matt to court her. Don’t be stupid, she told herself, There’s Abby and Katie. . . Dori’s thoughts trailed off, but her traitorous heart taunted, What else could it be?

The tall cowboy doffed his Stetson. “If I may have your attention, Miss Sterling?”

The hint of sarcasm in his voice shattered the cocoon of silence that surrounded Dori. “Yes?” Her heart thumped.

“From now on, we’ll be spending afternoons together,” Seth told her.

“Together?”

“Yes.” Seth raised one eyebrow. “I’ll be in charge at all times. You’ll do what I say, when I say it, and how.”

Dori blinked. This didn’t sound like a suitor eager to please. Rebellion rose, although Seth’s masterful attitude intrigued her. “What if I don’t?”

His measuring gaze never left her face. “Then the deal’s off. Either I’m the boss, or Matt can get someone else to train you.”

“Train me?” Her voice rose a full octave from its usual pitch. Did this. . .this oaf think he was going to train her to be his wife? She’d had enough of that with Stancel. “Train me for what?”

He looked surprised. “For fitting you with the skills you need to survive. Matt promised that you wouldn’t turn me down.”

If Dori hadn’t been so angry she would have laughed in his face. Seth was even more insufferable than Stancel had been. As for Matt, she couldn’t wait to tell him a thing or two.

“Matt wants me to turn you into the rider you used to be before going east.” Anticipation sparkled in Seth eyes. “Roping, too, and trick riding, as well as shooting.”

Thud! Dori’s hopes of being courted crashed to the hard ground. She took a deep breath. Seth must never know what she had thought. The best of times, the worst of times, she thought bitterly. Another phrase from the story came to mind. “The spring of hope, it was the winter of despair.” She had sprung from hope to despair in less time than it took to spring into a saddle.

Dori opened her mouth to blast Seth, to tell him he was the last person on the ranch she wanted to teach her anything. She paused. No. There was a better way. She would go along with his and Matt’s scheme. She would learn everything he could teach her, then flaunt it by showing Seth she was as good or better than any hand on the range, including him.

Glee over her decision erased some of Dori’s frustration. Long hours together would give her the opportunity to crack the wall of indifference she sensed in Seth when she was around. “So when do we start?”

“After dinner. I’ll see that Splotches is saddled and ready.”

Dori gritted her teeth at his nonchalance. She wanted to tell him she was perfectly capable of saddling her own horse but refrained. A small smile tilted her lips upward. She’d fooled Matt with her acting ability in Boston years ago. Surely she could hoodwink the brash cowboy who thought he could teach her skills she had possessed since childhood.

For the first few rides, Dori donned the docile attitude of a novice at the feet of a learned sage. But her fierce resolve to get the best of Seth leaped like wildfire a short time later. Tired of keeping the pace Seth and Copper set, she leaned forward in the saddle and urged Splotches into a full gallop over uneven ground, even though she knew better. “Can’t that nag of yours keep up?” she shouted back to Seth.

The pound of hooves sang in Dori’s ears, followed by Seth’s, “Stop!” He pulled even with her and snatched the reins. Both horses came to a screeching halt.

Dori scorched with rage. “How dare you interfere.”

“How dare you risk your horse by running her here?” Seth bellowed. Dori had never seen him so angry. “I didn’t train Splotches just to have an idiot girl injure her by showing off. All it takes is one gopher hole to break a leg, not to mention what could happen to you.”

Stung by feeling guilty and knowing that he was right, Dori still wouldn’t give in. “As if you’d care. You’re more concerned over Splotches getting hurt than you are about me. Fine teacher you are.”

A curious expression crossed Seth’s face. “If you get hurt, it’s your own fault. Splotches has no say in whether she stays whole—and alive. Let’s go home.”

They rode in silence for a good mile before Dori blurted out, “Are you going to tell Matt?”

“That depends on you,” Seth said with a look that boded no good for her. The twitch of a muscle in his cheek betrayed his wrath. “One more stunt like that, and I’m through. I agreed to ride herd on you to help Matt out, but if you’re going to continue being a blasted nuisance, the deal is off.”

Dori felt like she was bleeding inside from Seth’s condemnation. Today’s escapade had surely killed all hopes of her ever gaining Seth’s respect—respect she suddenly realized she had craved from the time she returned to the Diamond S. Now all was lost because of her stubborn determination to have her own way.