Real Cowboys

“Yes, ma’am.” She sat, but didn’t look at Kate.

“What did he say after he read it?”

Fine black hair hid Clover’s face. “Nothing.”

“Is he picking you up from school today?”

“Uh-uh. I’m riding the bus and Miss Vida’s staying late to fix my supper ’cause Ben’s got a meeting in town.”

Kate closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Do you always call your father Ben?”

Clover shrugged, clearly puzzled. “That’s his name.”

“All right. Not to worry. I’ll write him another note. Or, better, I’ll phone and leave a message.”

The morning reading assignment netted Kate two more drawings from Clover—a dark horse with an oddly trimmed mane and a dog that looked like Goldie. Kate had Clover read out loud. She read about every fifth word, seeming easily distracted.

While the students were eating lunch at tables out back, Kate took a minute to call Ben Trueblood and was connected to an answering machine. “I understand if you’re busy,” she said, rushing to beat the time-out tone. “Perhaps I didn’t convey the urgency of my request to speak with you in my first note. We need to conference ASAP about your daughter.” The tone bleeped, so Kate clicked off, annoyed that she hadn’t repeated her offer to come in early or stay late.

THURSDAY AT SCHOOL was a repeat of Wednesday.

Frustrated, Kate again attempted to impress on Clover that she really needed to meet with her dad. “This is my cell-phone number,” she said, making sure Clover saw her stuff the note in a zip pocket of the girl’s red backpack. “Please tell him he can call me any evening. I’m up late.”

Blinking a couple of times, Clover dashed off to meet the van, leaving Kate with her day’s work—more art. Today there was a likeness of Kate seated at her desk and below it a sketch of the boys playing basketball. The last drawing was of a wizened man bent over a campfire, his features and arthritic hands compellingly lifelike.

If she didn’t see or hear from Ben Trueblood soon, Kate intended to load Danny in her pickup and follow Bill Hyder to Clover’s home. She’d wait for him there.

Kate spent a large part of the day observing Clover. She seemed a happy child, always humming to herself as she flitted about. And flit she did. Simple things caught her attention. Clouds. A fly. Colorful rocks.

The other kids didn’t exactly avoid her, but neither did they include her in play. And for some reason she chose to shadow Danny. Curiously, he let her, probably because she knew a lot about horses—Danny’s greatest love next to calf roping.

As she watched the kids at lunch, it struck Kate that if not for her pretty hair and girlish features, Clover could pass for one of the boys in her slant-heel boots, faded blue jeans and Western shirt.

Clover wasn’t disruptive in class. She listened attentively when anyone, especially Kate, talked. However, small things had her leaving her seat. A ladybug marching across a neighbor’s desk. Oak leaves that blew in and skittered across the floor when Meg Wheeler came in late. And of all things, a honeybee that Clover guided out the classroom window because she said its family was waiting outside.

Clover’s verbal skills were fine for her age and she gave detailed answers to the questions Kate asked. But she stubbornly chose not to do written assignments and she only read a handful of words on a page. Kate didn’t get it. The kid was an enigma. And so was the elusive dad, whom Danny pronounced “real cool.” According to Danny, buckaroos, as Clover called her dad and his crew, were the greatest because they lived in tepees on the range. They did nothing but ride horses, herd and brand cattle.

Kate didn’t share her son’s admiration for the man. Clover was a beautiful child who had somehow fallen through a huge crack in the education system and it was Kate’s job to see that her student got the help she needed.

Frustrated, Kate left a terse message saying that if she didn’t see him Friday, she was going to call the district superintendent’s office about his child. “I understand what it is to be a working, single parent. I’ll be at school until six o’clock.”

Danny overheard the last part of her call. “Are we staying late again tonight? If we stay till six that means I’ve gotta feed and exercise Flame in the dark.”

“Not tonight, Danny. I’m ready to go home now. Tomorrow, bring a book along to read. If Clover’s dad spends long hours out on the range, it’s up to me to remain flexible so that he and I can meet.”

“You said Clover wasn’t in trouble. So why do you need a meeting?”

“Danny, I can’t discuss another student with you, and I’m sorry you have to stay with me. You know, if Clover’s dad makes this meeting, you’ll have to sit in the truck until he and I finish talking. Our meeting is confidential.”

“Br-oth-er! You think I can’t keep a secret? I was with Mimi when she bought Pawpaw that fringed leather jacket for Christmas, and I didn’t tell.”

“This is different, honey. All students and their families have a legal right to privacy.”

“Not me. You’re my teacher and my mom. You know everything there is to know about me.”

Kate couldn’t resist teasing as she hugged him. “But you’re perfect, Danny.”

He wiggled out of her arms and delivered an eye roll like only ten-year-old boys could. However, he helped her collect her papers without being asked before they locked up.

FRIDAY THE KIDS WERE ANXIOUS to be off for the weekend. “Are you going to assign homework?” asked tall, lanky Ron Quimby.

“I prefer not to assign weekend homework. Tests I give will be on work you should be covering during class.” Kate couldn’t help glancing at Clover. She hadn’t completed any class assignments this entire week. Well, that wasn’t true. She’d done her math.

Last night, Marge Goetz had dropped by with a welcome casserole and Kate had been dying to ask the older woman about Clover’s father but didn’t feel she’d been at her job long enough to probe for such information. After Marge had left, Kate had looked up dyslexia in a teaching textbook. Kate wondered if that was Clover’s problem. But the text said a dyslexic child would have difficulty with reading, spelling and numbers, so that didn’t describe Clover.

Class ended in a stampede out to catch the bus.

“Danny, I’m going to grade papers,” Kate told her son. “Will you go see if anyone left sports equipment out on the playground?”

“Okay. Why do we hafta stay late every night? I want to ride Flame. Why doesn’t Clover’s dad show up?”

“I’ve no idea.”

Kate spent a half hour going over the day’s work. From the sporadic thump on the back wall, she knew Danny had gotten sidetracked shooting baskets.

At the sound of footsteps, Kate’s head shot up. In walked the most arresting man she’d seen in Lord only knew when. He was lean, not too muscular and oozed masculinity. He wore narrow-legged jeans tucked in tall snakeskin boots that jingled faintly and musically as he entered the classroom. Despite herself, Kate felt a tug in her belly as she watched the fascinating, hip-rolling gait of a born cowboy.

The faded red neckerchief he wore had seen better days and obviously wasn’t for show. Nor was the sweat-stained cotton shirt with stray strands of dry grass sticking out of one pocket and the shirtsleeves rolled up over deeply tanned forearms.

She hadn’t heard a truck. Had he dropped from the sky?

As he turned to glance out the window, Kate saw that his raven-black hair was tied at the nape with a leather thong. His clean-shaven jaw gave an appearance of strength.

No matter how irritated Kate was with herself over looking her fill, she was more chagrined to see that he studied her with equal interest—and equal reluctance.

“Mr. Trueblood, I presume? I’m Kate Steele, your daughter’s new teacher.” Kate tried to imagine what he was thinking. How did he feel about knocking off work early to come in for a meeting he probably considered frivolous? Clover’s dad struck her as a hard-nosed, no-frills kinda guy.

“I appreciate you making time to come talk about Clover,” Kate said. “I’ll try to be as brief as possible, but meanwhile, please be seated.” She indicated a folding chair she’d brought from home for this very occasion.

He hadn’t spoken since walking in and didn’t now. He merely dragged the chair out a foot or so farther from her desk and sat heavily, before hanging the flat-crowned hat he’d removed at the door over one knee.

At last he cleared his throat. “Clover’s a little bit of a thing, Ms. Steele. If she’s caused trouble for you in class, I’d have thought as a qualified teacher you’d know ways to deal with about any problem an eight-year-old girl could dish up.”

CHAPTER THREE

“I’M SORRY IF I DIDN’T MAKE myself clear in my note,” Kate said, trying not to stammer. What was wrong with him that he couldn’t see her only objective in asking to meet him was to help his daughter? “Clover is a very sweet child, Mr. Trueblood.” Kate leaned forward earnestly. “This conference isn’t because she’s caused trouble. I need enlightening about her past academic achievement.”

Ben adjusted the hat roosting on his knee and stiffened. “Marge said she gave you records on all the kids.”

“She did.” Kate unlocked a bottom desk drawer and walked her fingers along the hanging files she’d set up. “I’ll be happy to show you Clover’s record.” Extracting a thin folder, she removed a sheet and slid it across the desk.

He didn’t take it, or even examine it. Instead, he acted wary, or perhaps impatient, and sort of growled, “Why don’t you cut to the chase and tell me what you want Clover to do? Or what I should do?”

Again reaching into the hanging file, Kate brought out Clover’s work. She waved the sheaf of papers at Trueblood until he gingerly accepted it. A tiny smile flickered as he leafed through the pages. “These, uh, look pretty good to me,” he finally said. He took a longer look at a drawing of Kate. “She missed those little half-glasses you’ve got perched on your nose. Outside of that it’s the spitting image, I’d say.”

“Mr. Trueblood.” Exasperated, Kate snatched back the artwork. “Clover draws in great detail. The problem is that she did these and not her daily assignments.” Pointing toward the window, Kate described the bird incident.

“My buckaroos will tell you that Clover’s good with animals. For instance, if she says call the vet, my trail boss calls him. Sure enough, something’s always wrong.”

“I’d hoped you could shed light on the issue of her schoolwork. As you see, her previous teacher wrote next to nothing on her file. Mr. Sikes made progress notes on all of the other students. Did he ever talk to you about Clover’s performance in class?”

Ben got up and paced to the door and back, all the while rubbing at the back of his neck. “We had a talk after Sikes got called up by his army unit. He…said… Clover needs… She’s…not like other kids.”

Kate removed her reading glasses and watched the struggle going on within the man. “I can tell this isn’t easy for you to discuss. Does Clover’s problem stem from your separation, or is it a divorce? Problems in a marriage do affect the children.”

Ben’s head jerked up.

“I’m not prying,” Kate said softly. “I noticed Clover’s mother isn’t listed on her permanent record. Clover also told my son you’re at court in Boise a lot. And well, I’ve seen other students unable to handle a family split without counseling.”

His sudden scowl had Kate stuttering. “I…ah…realize you’d probably rather not discuss the failure of your marriage with a virtual stranger, but, teachers are like doctors, or lawyers. We need to be privy to family secrets in order to help your child.”

Feeling at a distinct disadvantage with Ben looming over her, larger than life, Kate snugged her wheelchair closer to the desk and sat up straight to give the appearance of being in control.

“I didn’t fail,” he said curtly. “At least not at marriage. I’m not married and never have been. I’ve been Clover’s only parent since she was maybe six hours old. She was left on my doorstep, or rather, on a pile of hay in my barn, by her parents—a couple of kids I saw running out of my barn. But if you’re looking to blame somebody for whatever the hell she’s doing or not doing, lay it on me.” Making a fist, Ben thumped his chest.

“There’s no need to swear.” Kate sounded heated, too. “This meeting isn’t about affixing blame, Mr. Trueblood.”

“Funny, it sounds like that to me, Ms. Steele. Why don’t you just spit out what it is you want Clover to do?”

“All right.” She tightened her laced fingers. “She’s having great difficulty with reading. At first I thought she might have dyslexia.” When he seemed shocked to silence, Kate added, “Dyslexia is where a person has problems with left versus right, or sees certain words backward. But information I located on dyslexia indicates a child would also have trouble doing math. Clover is a whiz at addition and subtraction. And her drawings aren’t indicative of a directionally challenged child. It’s hard to imagine that no one worried about this earlier.”

“A teacher, you mean?”

Kate shrugged. “Last year she should have started reading chapter books. In fact, she recognizes only a few simple words and doesn’t try to sound out others.”

“After Del Sikes left, the district sent materials for homeschooling. I was pretty tied up, so mostly my trail cook looked after Clover. He knows cattle and cooking. Well, he knows a lot more than that when it comes to nature and land and what makes people tick. You could say Lou saved me and my friend Percy Lightfoot from running wild or worse.” He’d begun to pace again.

“I see, I think. Well, I’ll need to evaluate her to find out where she went off track. It’s odd she missed learning to read, since she is proficient in math. If her problem turns out to be a more serious one, I assume the district has a psychologist who can administer those tests. It’ll help, Mr. Trueblood, if you begin preparing her for my evaluation.”

“Preparing her how?”

“Sit down with her every evening. Make Clover read to you. Make her sound out difficult words. As a parent you’ll be tempted to blurt out the words, but don’t do that. She has to figure them out herself.”

“I’m no teacher,” he said as he walked his hands around and around the brim of his hat. “Shouldn’t you be the one working with her?”

“If reading’s too difficult for Clover, she’s probably too embarrassed to raise her hand in class and ask me for help. I’ll give you three basic storybooks to take home. When she’s mastered these, here are the names of three more books I consider easy second-grade level. A library ought to have them.” Kate tore out a sheet of notebook paper and jotted three titles, then stuck the page in one of the storybooks and offered them to her visitor.

Ben reluctantly took the books. “I’m already spread too thin,” he said.

“Reading is vital. Surely we can agree on that.”

If he responded before he spun away and strode to the door, Kate missed his words.

A strange man, she thought. But, damn fine to look at.

Upset at the flutter of interest that tripped through her, she stuffed the papers in a drawer. That same lazy way of moving Ben had was what had first attracted her to Colton. Never again. No cowboy or buckaroo—or whatever the term in the area—was going to turn her head.

Kate noted that the basketball had quit thumping the wall behind her. Through the side window she heard Trueblood’s deep baritone mingled with the children’s higher pitched voices.

It wasn’t until she started her wheelchair motor, backed up and angled toward the window that it dawned on her—a streak of vanity had kept her from escorting Clover’s father to the door.

You didn’t want him to see you stuck in a wheelchair.

Kate grimaced. She would have hated seeing pity in his eyes.

As Danny’s voice reached her through the open window, Kate realized he hadn’t sounded this excited since they left Texas.

Handwheeling her chair to where she could see and not be seen, she discovered two things—the source of Danny’s pleasure and the reason she hadn’t heard the crunch of Trueblood’s tires on the pumice drive. A black gelding and a small palomino mare grazed under a stand of trees. Clover and her dad had ridden horses to this meeting.

Kate wished she could hear what Trueblood was telling Danny to keep him so totally enthralled. The trio had moved again, out of Kate’s range.

She didn’t have long to wait for an answer, however. The father and daughter swung into their saddles and cantered off. Danny tossed his basketball in the air, caught it, then loped toward the school, a jaunty swing to his step.

“Mom, Mom!” Danny burst through the door and whirled one direction then the other, searching for Kate, who hadn’t wanted him to catch her at the window.

“I’m at the cupboard taking inventory of construction paper. It won’t be long before the holidays and I need to be thinking of an art project that will interest all of you kiddos. Toss that basketball in the bin with the others and we can leave. Oh, will you grab my tote? I didn’t finish grading papers before Mr. Trueblood arrived.”

“Mom! I’m trying to tell you something. Ben…uh, Clover’s dad said I can call him that…he braided the coolest rope out of horsehair. He curries the manes and tails of his horses and sorts out strands by color. His rope looks like an old diamondback rattler. Clover’s learning to braid, but she can’t do patterns yet.” Danny hardly took a breath between sentences.

Kate watched him dash about the room, doing what she asked. Usually she had to remind him several times. Not tonight.

“Guess what else? They do have a kind of rodeo here. They call it a Rope and Ride. Ben said all of their events are judged by Old West rules. I’m not sure what that means exactly. It’s next spring. Will you take me?”

“Oh, Danny, I have no idea where they’d hold such an event.”

He followed her out, his feet barely touching the ground as he waited impatiently for her to lock the door and motor down the ramp. “I can get directions. ’Cause that’s the other thing. Will you take me to their ranch tomorrow? Or, I could ride Flame over. They’re gonna brand calves. They’re late because of a drought. Clover said we can ride washes looking for calves that got separated when they moved the herd to a winter land lease. What’s a land lease, Mom?”

Kate stopped levering herself into the driver’s seat. “A land lease is pasture a person can rent from the government. Although, I don’t know what that has to do with this conversation. Danny Royce Steele, why on earth wouldn’t you have come in and asked my permission before you made such elaborate plans?”

His chin jutted stubbornly as he connected the lift clamps to her wheelchair. “I knew if I came in and asked before they took off, you wouldn’t think about it. You’d just say no. Please, Mom? All I’ve done since we got here is help set up the house. I did everything you asked. This will be so cool. Besides, yesterday when I talked to Mimi, she said Flame will get fat and lazy if I don’t work him.”

Kate couldn’t ignore the change in Danny’s spirits. It was like daylight from dark. Until now it hadn’t really sunk in how downcast he’d truly become since the move. After talking to Ben, he looked like his old, happy self.

But letting him spend the day with cowboys made Kate’s head ache. She tried again to discourage him. “Danny, I have Clover’s address, but finding their ranch without a map could prove impossible on these back roads. I think you should wait.”

“I know where they live. You remember the road we turned off of to find the cabin—the fork with the first red bandanna? If we’d kept on that road we’d have gone straight to the Rising Sun. That’s Ben’s ranch. His brand is neat-o. Clover showed me how to draw it the other day. She said Bobbalou named the ranch and drew the brand. I think it used to be his land, or something.”

“Who on earth is Bobba…whatzit?” his mother asked.

“Their trail cook. His real name is Lou Bobolink, but everybody calls him Bobbalou. He’s Paiute Indian. Uh, maybe Ben is, too.” Danny hesitated, pondering that. “Did you see how he ties back his hair? Gosh, do you think Clover’s an Indian? She said Bobbalou is sorta her pawpaw.”

“The politically correct term is Native American, Danny. I’d say it’s very likely Clover and Adam Lightfoot are native. The Paiute are probably one of the local tribes.”

“It doesn’t matter, does it, Mom?” Danny turned toward her with a slight frown as Kate parked at their cabin. “If they’re Ind…uh, what you said.”

“No, honey, that doesn’t matter.” What did matter was how Ben Trueblood had invited her son to take part in branding without consulting her. That was so typical of something Colton would have done—never mind the impact it might have on others.

“So then it’s okay if I go spend the day with Clover? You’ll trailer Flame, huh? We hafta get up early. Clover said they start branding at five-thirty.”

“A.m.?” Kate gasped, but it was drowned outby the grinding of the lift as it lowered her wheelchair.

“Yes, in the morning.” Danny laughed. “That’s daybreak here, Mom. Pawpaw and me were out feeding his stock at daylight in Texas.”

Kate squelched a sigh and handed her book bag to Danny to carry inside. She wasn’t a layabout type, but this weekend she’d planned to grab an extra hour’s sleep, followed by a leisurely breakfast to celebrate the successful completion of her first week on the job. “I have to give this more thought, Danny. Don’t bring up the subject again until after I fix supper and we eat. I’ll make a final decision after you shower, before you go to bed. Have you thought about Goldie? She’ll miss you.”

“She’s a cow dog. I’ll take her along.”

“Not if you didn’t clear it with Clover’s father. All ranches operate differently, honey. If the Truebloods’ cattle aren’t used to being worked by dogs, it could even be dangerous. What if Goldie startled a rogue steer, or a not-so-nice mama cow?”

Danny dashed ahead to let out the dog from the screened back porch. The two then raced back around to the front of the house, where Kate was unlocking the door. Danny had two possibilities worked out. “If you’ve got Clover’s phone number, I’ll call and ask about bringing Goldie. Or, we can take her, and if Ben says she can’t stay, you’ll have company while I’m gone.”

“If I decide in favor of your scheme, you’ll be stuck with the second of your suggestions. The number I have for Clover’s dad is for messages only. Also, you’re forgetting I said no badgering, Danny, or it’s an automatic no.”

“Bro-ther!” He snapped his fingers at Goldie and the two headed for the corral. “I’m gonna exercise Flame, then feed him before supper.”

Tension edged up the back of Kate’s neck. If he’d asked to go anywhere else, she was sure she’d have said yes without qualm. But cows and roping? This was why she’d left Texas.

She went straight to the kitchen, turned on the oven, then pulled a premade dinner out of the fridge. Kate wished she did have a home phone number for Trueblood. She wouldn’t be shy about giving him a piece of her mind. He had no right to meddle in her life—to expect a kid Danny’s age to accept or decline an invitation. But maybe that’s how people operated here. Clover seemed awfully independent for her age. Come to think of it, was Ben even her legal guardian? It sounded as if he’d claimed her like a pound puppy. He’d sure flared up at the mention of a failed marriage. As if someone like him never failed at anything. Still, he had to be commended—single parenting wasn’t a picnic.

Kate found herself wondering why Trueblood wasn’t married. But, that was counterproductive. Besides, it had nothing to do with her.

Throughout dinner of meat loaf, mashed potatoes and sliced tomatoes, Danny spoke little, but watched his mother warily.

“I’m not going to bite you if you talk,” Kate finally said before serving the custard dessert. “I’m so relieved to have made it through the first week of school. But, Danny, you hear the kids’ perspective. How would they rate my first week? Be honest. I know kids talk about teachers on the playground.”