Rescuing the Kidnapped Teacher (Preview)

Chapter One

Arrow, Colorado–1890

The journey had been uncomfortable. The stagecoach was full—Tabitha Kline had squeezed herself between a large man, who smoked a pipe the whole way, and a woman with a basket of strong-smelling food on her lap. She tried to ignore the man’s pipe smoke, not wanting to seem rude by wafting it away with her hand, but it made her feel slightly unwell. That, mixed with the aroma of the woman’s foodstuffs and the constant pounding of the wheels on the uneven ground, made her head spin. One thought kept her resolve strong: she was on her way to a new life.

Tabitha tried to concentrate on the landscape that rolled out in front of her—a totally different view to the one she had known. What she saw were several large, rocky peaked hills in the distance, separated by prairie land, mountain meadows, tumbleweeds, and not much else. It was so different to the cramped, busy, rundown town that she had just left. She was starting to feel the freedom she had sought for so long.

She breathed deeply, expelling the air slowly, realizing that for the first time in several months, she was happy. She closed her eyes and let the hours slip by, ignoring the nagging doubt that kept creeping into her mind: how could she have been so blind?

The thin dawn sun had turned into a hot afternoon blaze of orange by the time the team of six horses drew to a halt outside the stagecoach office. The cry from the driver’s box of, “Arrow, anyone for Arrow, leave now or you’ll be headin’ for Nebraska,” shook Tabitha awake. She grabbed the small box from the overhead bunk, unwedged herself from the hard seat, and half-fell from the carriage. In her haste, she had unclipped her small suitcase, and the contents rained onto the stony ground. She cried out to see her treasured photo-case scatter its contents among the boots and shoes of people walking by. 

“Let me help you with that, ma’am,” a soft voice spoke behind her, and a strong pair of tanned hands began picking up her belongings.

“Thank you. Thank you so much,” Tabitha said breathlessly, not glancing at the stranger as she tried to gather up the contents of the photo-case. “I was in such a hurry to get off, I—” 

She turned to thank the helpful passerby and silently gasped. A pair of powder blue eyes, with the sparkling glint of a smile, shone down at her. 

“Glad to be of service.” The man extended his hand. “Jake Dylan. Welcome to Arrow.”

Tabitha struggled to stand up, smoothing her dress and pushing stray strands of her curly brown hair behind her ears. She must look a sight. Clutching the photo-case in one hand, she let the man take her free hand. He shook it briefly.

“Tabitha, Tabitha Kline. I can’t thank you enough.” Her voice was trembling. Jake Dylan’s rugged, sun-blessed face, thick black hair, and especially the feel of his hand in hers, had caught her unawares.

He looked down at her suitcase and the photo-case that she held tightly against her chest. 

“Are you here for the duration? Seems like you have quite a few precious things there.”

Tabitha straightened up, saying as briskly as she could, “I’m taking the new teaching post at Arrow County Schoolhouse. Do you know it?”

The man looked down at the ground, his hand moving to his waistcoat pocket. Tabitha saw the shining star pinned to his chest and realized why the man had been so friendly.

“Yes, I do. I’m the sheriff of this fair town, so I make it my business to know what’s goin’ on. Had a feelin’ there’d be a new arrival fairly soon. Didn’t expect it to be such a pleasant sight, though.” He tipped his hat to the back of his head, revealing a fringe that flopped over one eyebrow. He pushed the hair away and bowed slightly. 

“Pleased to make your acquaintance, I’m sure,” he said. 

Tabitha returned the dip of the head, saying in her most professional voice, “Thank you kindly. You’ve been very helpful.” 

She looked up and down the main street, which had the usual collection of buildings: a bank, general store, boarding house, saloon, and blacksmith’s. 

“I’m not rightly sure which way to go from here. Could you point me in the direction of the schoolhouse cottage?”

“I can do better than that,” the sheriff replied. Putting two fingers into his mouth, he whistled loudly in the direction of a man loitering in front of the saloon. The figure waved back, leading over a horse and carriage.

“Henry, I want you to meet our new schoolteacher, Tabitha Kline,” the sheriff said. “The best farmer, local handyman come delivery service you’ll find this side of Colorado.”

The gray-haired, friendly-faced man nodded as the sheriff picked up the suitcase and placed it on the seat of the carriage. He held his hand out to Tabitha, who looked at it questioningly.

“Can I help you in?” the sheriff said. “Can’t have one of the most important people in the town carrying her own luggage.”

“That’s mighty kind of you, Sheriff, but I think I can manage if you just tell me which way to go,” Tabitha replied, leaning forward to retrieve her suitcase from the carriage. 

The sheriff put his hand lightly on her arm. “Why, it’s no problem whatsoever. Henry here has been waiting for an hour—we can’t disappoint him, can we?”

Henry smiled. “Need to stretch the horse’s legs, miss, if that’s alright with you.”

When the sheriff held out his hand for the second time, Tabitha laid hers gently into his and stepped up to the carriage platform. She tried to compose herself, aware that she was blushing. She was slightly annoyed that she had been railroaded into accepting the ride but knew she would look churlish if she didn’t accept. She hadn’t expected a welcome committee. 

“I’ll come with you, if that’s alright. The lock on that schoolhouse cottage can be a bit stiff. Been a long time since it was opened.” 

The sheriff dipped his hat then untied a horse alongside the stagecoach office and swung himself up into the saddle. Henry took his seat next to Tabitha and picked up the reins, yelling, “Yeehah!” so loudly that she put her hand to her ear. She looked back at the man in the saddle. He smiled back, putting one hand to his ear, too.

During the short journey to the schoolhouse, aware of the sheriff’s horse behind the carriage, Tabitha kept her eyes fixed ahead as the town’s main street slipped by. They passed a few small houses with neat front yards on both sides of the track before she caught sight of the schoolhouse building. She had no idea what she was expecting, but she was delighted by the sight she saw.

The log cabin-style schoolhouse had a peaked roof and a small, shingled bell tower on one side. The one-room wooden building was painted a bright shade of yellow, Tabitha’s favorite color. There was a yard at the front, with a path that led to a side gate. Tabitha could see beyond it to a garden where she glimpsed the side of a small house.

Henry brought the carriage to a stop at the side of the schoolhouse fence, climbing out quickly. “Your new home,” he said with a toothy grin as the sheriff drew his horse alongside them.

“We had it newly painted, hope you like the color,” he said. He slid from the horse and reached into the carriage to retrieve her suitcase.

Tabitha quickly stepped down onto the ground, staring at the building, the garden, and the little house in the distance. Tears collected behind her eyes. She had applied for the position not thinking that she would be accepted. When the letter had arrived with the offer of employment, which included a tenant house, she had cried with joy. She had spent such a painful time since the death of her father several months before, the chance to start afresh had been overwhelming. She took out her handkerchief and coughed before answering.

“I do. It’s my favorite,” she said, avoiding the sheriff’s glance, fixing her eyes on the school building. She didn’t want him to think she was an emotional woman, the kind that would cry at the drop of a hat. Tabitha was going to be the new schoolteacher; she needed to give the impression of someone in complete control.

“We didn’t know that, but I’m mighty glad it suits. I‘ll show you how the lock on the front door works—like I say, it’s a bit tricky.” The sheriff strode through the small yard to the gate, opening it and waiting for Tabitha to follow. 

The garden was slightly overgrown, but she was delighted to see the pretty rose bushes and a border with a row of narcissus, although it was almost completely stifled by weeds. It wouldn’t take long to turn it into a sweet little place, she thought as she walked quickly to keep up with the sheriff’s long strides.

“The key’s always kept in the same place,” he said, lifting a little flower pot just by the front door. “If I were you, though, I’d carry it with you. We don’t often get varmints here, but you can’t be too careful, especially as you’re on your own.”

The sheriff turned to face Tabitha as he picked up the long, metal key. He stood in front of the door, frowning slightly. 

“That’s assumin’ you are on your own?” He glanced down at her hand. 

She self-consciously rubbed the finger where she had worn her engagement ring, until recently.

“Yes. I am,” she replied briskly, taking the key from the sheriff’s hand. “Really, you don’t need to wait. I’m sure I can open a door; I’ve done it before.”

The sheriff smiled, stepping back slightly and motioning with his hand. “Be my guest.”

It took several attempts at trying to force the long key into the lock, then a few more to turn it, before Tabitha, her face now a deep red, admitted quietly, “Perhaps I do need help.”

The sheriff stepped up to the door and turned the key once to the right and once to the left. Then, using his shoulder, he pushed the door open. 

He stood to one side as Tabitha passed through the doorway. She nodded at him, still embarrassed at her obvious stubbornness and failure to open the door. Keeping her head down, she moved to the center of the small room and looked around.

It had once been a pleasant place, but it was clear that it hadn’t been lived in for some time. The dust on the small dining table and the wooden shelves that lined one side of the sitting room had accumulated over several months, she guessed. The pretty patterned curtains at the two windows were showing signs of age, as were the two-seater sofa and matching armchair in front of the fireplace.

As though reading her mind, the sheriff said, “Been some time, like I said, since we had an inhabitant here. Miss Murphy died last year of the fever and the house has been empty ever since. She’d been the schoolteacher for the whole of my life. It was awful sad to lose her.”

Tabitha threw a quick glance at the lawman on hearing his change in tone. He sounded truly unhappy. His face was set in a fixed expression as he looked at the empty shelves. 

He met her gaze. “These used to be full of her schoolbooks. I remember reading from ‘em, right here in this room. Seems like yesterday.”

“She must have been a good teacher for you to have such a memory,” Tabitha responded, lowering her voice to match his.

The sheriff shook his head, putting his hands on his hips, his voice a little harder. “She sure was, but do you know what? I bet you’re gonna be just as good, if not better. You have that air about you.”

Tabitha’s cheeks grew hot at the compliment. It had been a long time since someone had said anything nice to her. 

“I’m not sure I agree with you. It’s my first teaching post, but I will give it my best.”

The sheriff wiped his hand across the seat of the armchair and sat down, looking up at her. “I’ve been awonderin’ about that. The county mayor let me know that they had found someone to replace Miss Murphy. I hope you don’t mind me saying. He called you a rookie, though he was nonetheless impressed by your application.”

Tabitha smiled. She certainly considered herself a rookie. She had taken a chance when she’d applied for the job, hoping her enthusiasm would be recognized, and it had worked.

“I’ve been told I can write well. I suppose that’s what he meant. In Victor, where I used to live, the schoolteacher had been there all her life, too. I was her assistant, but I was never going to get the chance to take her place—not soon, anyway. I… I decided to make a fresh start. When this post came up in Arrow, it seemed perfect.”

The sheriff’s eyes widened. “Victor, did you say?”

Tabitha nodded. “Do you know it?”

“I sure do. S’far as I know, it’s a rowdy mining town. Seems like someone found gold in the hills and everyone and his son decided to move there.”

“That’s about the shape of it,” Tabitha replied. “It wasn’t particularly safe for women, what with the saloons and boarding houses becoming a bit unseemly. I… I had been thinking about leaving for a while and like I say, I took my chance.”

The lawman gazed at her then said, “Well, I’m sure we’re all mighty glad you did. Now, do I call you Miss Kline or Tabitha?” He grinned, a smile that spread to his pale blue eyes like a bolt of lightning forking across a pale spring sky.

She laughed. “I think Tabitha is fine, unless you’re going to join one of my lessons. Then it would definitely be Miss Kline.”

The sheriff nodded. “In that case, you must call me Jake. Unless I catch you on the wrong side of the law, and then it would definitely be Sheriff Dylan.”

They both laughed, their eyes locking for a brief moment before Jake coughed and stood up. He picked up the suitcase that he had carried in from the carriage, handing it to her. Their hands touched briefly, and Tabitha shivered as a tremor pass through her body.

“Unless there’s anything else I can help you with… Tabitha, I’d better make my way back to the jailhouse.”

Tabitha took a deep breath, then said, “You’ve been very kind, and helpful, thank you… Jake and thank Henry, too.” 

She followed Jake out to the schoolhouse yard, watching as he unhitched his horse. He turned to look at her as he settled into the saddle, then tipped his hat. 

“I expect we’ll be seeing each other soon enough. If you need anything in the meantime, I think you know where’ll you find me,” he said.

Tabitha stood at the fence for several minutes as the dust from the sheriff’s horse rose and then settled like a grounded cloud. The sun was setting in front of her, bathing the distant rocky peaks in a golden crown of light. As though drawn by an invisible string, it slithered below the edge of the mountains, remaining as a glowing sliver between the two sides of the range before disappearing. She shivered as the evening air, no longer benefitting from the heat of the sun, cooled abruptly.

As she made her way back inside the little house, a question swirled around her mind: why had she reacted so much to Jake’s touch? When he had shaken her hand and again when their hands touched as he was leaving, she’d felt… something. She shook her head as she started unpacking her case.

She had vowed she would never trust another man as long as she lived, not after Wesley. She breathed in deeply, closing her eyes before opening them again. She didn’t want to think about him. For now, she needed to concentrate on tomorrow: the start of her new life.

***

Jake rode back into town slowly. He had been waiting for the stage for some time. Like he’d said to Miss Kline, he’d known she was comin’, he just hadn’t known when. She had looked mighty fine, although a little nervous. Dropping all her belongings like that in her hurry to get off the stage. But she would have had a long journey. She was probably tired. Might have accounted for her stubbornness about the front door, too. She hadn’t wanted him to open it, that was sure. 

Will was standing in the doorway of the office when Jake slipped off his horse and tied it to the post.

“I saw you with that young woman, boss. Was she who you were waitin’ for?” the deputy called out as Jake walked toward him.

“Yep. The new schoolteacher. Miss Kline to her pupils and Tabitha to her friends.”

“I’m sure you’ll be callin’ her Tabitha very soon, then,” Will said, giving Jake a cheeky grin.

Jake waited for Will to step aside so that he could go into the office before replying.

“Well, I hope she’ll think of me as a friend, like a sheriff should be to his townsfolk.”

Will put his hands on his hips, leaving the office door open. “Do you ever think of anything else except the job?” he asked, frowning.

“Not much, no.” Jake replied, sitting down behind the desk and shuffling through a few papers.

Will pulled up a chair to sit opposite Jake, looking at him thoughtfully. “You know, you’re not that old… Well, not too old, anyway.”

Jake held up his hand. “If you’re gonna give me another lecture about how I should be out running around with some potential wife, save your breath. I’ve heard it and it’s not gonna happen.”

Will put his elbows on the table, cradling his head in his hands. “There’s nothing wrong with havin’ a bit of fun now and again. I wasn’t rightly meanin’ marriage, although you’re not gettin’ any younger.”

Jake knocked one of Will’s elbows and his chin almost hit the desktop.

“I said, that’s enough. If you’re not gonna talk about anything else, then I give you permission to finish for the day.”

Will stood up, giving Jake a rueful glance. “I’ll take that offer. See you in the mornin’, and don’t forget to lock up—I know how forgetful old men can be.”

Jake picked up the first thing that came to hand, a pencil, and threw at the closing door. Will looked through the window and grimaced at Jake before turning on his heels and walking toward his cabin.

Jake liked Will. He’d been his deputy for nearly a year now. When Jake met him, Will had been a young, brash twenty-something lookin’ as if he could either end up in jail or be someone who put people there. That’d been Jake’s impression of the young man from the beginning. When he stepped in to help Jake sort out a rowdy group of drunk men who were causing trouble at the inn, Jake had offered him a job. Fortunately, he had liked Jake’s suggestion to join him in the sheriff’s office as his deputy.

“Best day of my life,” Will had said as Jake pinned the badge to his chest and heard his pledge of allegiance to uphold the law of the county and protect the citizens therein.

Jake had had the same feeling the first time he had worn his badge. His father had pinned it on him after he’d decided he was getting too old to chase a thief or grapple with a man twice his size.

“It’s your turn now, son,” his pa had said, shaking his hand.

Jake hadn’t looked back since that day, over five years ago. When his pa passed, he swore on his grave that he, too, would protect the townsfolk and their property to the end of his life. It had meant a lot to Jake to keep to that promise. Sure, he was lonely at times, but he lived by the decision he’d made. He would not put anyone else in danger through his job. 

Jake had heard stories from his pa about sheriffs who had lost their whole families because of a revengeful varmint. Others had been terrorized by gangs to get the sheriff to agree to be corrupt. That life wasn’t for him. If being a sheriff meant a solitary life, Jake was happy with that.

He smiled as he locked the door of the office, thinking about Will’s comment. They were only five or six years apart in age, but Jake sometimes felt like his pappy.

***

Several images filled Tabitha’s dreams that night as she tossed and turned in her new bed. Her father’s face was one. 

He wouldn’t have agreed with her decision to leave her childhood home. He had left it to her, meaning for her to keep it going. It had been his life’s work, until her mother had died several years before. 

Tabitha had been eight years old when her pa had sat her on his knee and tried to explain that the mother she adored hadn’t been able to fight her illness. She hadn’t understood what he had meant. All she knew was that her caring, kind father changed from that day. He neglected the successful ranch, and her, spending most of his time either pacing up and down their back yard or locked in his study. 

By the time she was a teenager, the thriving, profitable business that her grandfather had laid the foundations for was a crumbling wreck. Her home, once so carefully cleaned, polished, and dusted by her mother, was an untidy, unloved place that she longed to leave. The anguish she had felt when her pa died, just before her twenty-first birthday, ached through her body again as she slept.

The nightmare that had woken her early was a blessing in disguise. It was barely dawn when she sat at the freshly dusted round table, eating her breakfast. After clearing the plates away, she checked she had everything she needed.

 She had separated the teaching notes for her first day, putting them into her portfolio the night before. Her precious books, including her photo-case, were now on the shelves in the sitting room. As she paused at the front door, looking back at the now clean and more welcoming room, she thought how solitary they looked. They only filled one half of one of the five shelves. She picked up her portfolio and briefly looked into the hall mirror as she stepped outside, resolving to add to her library as soon as she could.

The schoolhouse door proved less difficult than the house, opening on Tabitha’s first attempt. She looked around the one-room building with dismay. It showed the same neglect as her new home. The ten desks were thick with dust, and the blinds at the windows were crooked in some cases and broken in others. Tabitha set about the room with the same resolve that she had seen her mother use when faced with the annual spring-clean: roll-up your sleeves and get polishin’!

By seven-thirty, the classroom was transformed. After thoroughly dusting and brushing them, Tabitha had stuck brightly colored stickers on the desks, ready for their occupants to provide their names. She had also fixed, cleaned, and raised the blinds, washed the windows, and written her name on the blackboard with a fresh piece of white chalk. 

On hearing a noise outside, she peeked through the window, eyes widening at the scene. A group of mothers holding tightly to the hands of their small children were waiting at the schoolhouse gate.

“I’m so sorry to keep you all waiting,” she called out as she walked quickly across the school yard. “I was told that lessons began at eight.”

A tall, thin woman with a weary but kindly face stepped forward, saying apologetically, “They do. Our children have been so excited to have a new schoolteacher, we couldn’t keep stop them coming early. I hope it’s alright.”

Tabitha smiled. “That’s just dandy, Mrs.…?”

The woman looked down at the ground, avoiding Tabitha’s eyes. “I’m… I’m Mrs. Linson. Debbie, call me Debbie.”

Tabitha held out her hand. “Pleased to meet you, Debbie. I’m Tabitha Kline. Miss Kline while I’m teaching your little one, but Tabitha when I’m not,” she whispered.

Debbie looked up, briefly touching Tabitha’s outstretched palm with her fingers. Her skirts twitched and a small, round face with deep brown eyes appeared from behind them.

“Who do we have here?” Tabitha asked, bending down to the girl’s eye level.

“I’m Alice,” the little girl said, firmly, “Alice Linson, I’m ten years old and I can read and write.” 

Tabitha stifled a laugh, looking back at the girl. “Well, that’s just dandy.” 

The little girl smiled as her mother reached for her hand.

“Excuse Alice, she’s a bit of a firebrand,” Debbie said quietly.

 Tabitha stood up, looking at the mother’s tired eyes. “That’s fine by me—it shows spirit. I like that,” she said brightly. 

The day seemed to go well. When Tabitha rang the school bell at four o’clock, the children all stood, saying as one: “Thank you, Miss Kline,” before filing out to be met by their mothers at the gate.

Tabitha followed them out, waving to each one as they walked away. The group dwindled down until a single child remained at her side. Alice Linson shuffled her feet, looking up the empty street sadly.

Tabitha kneeled in front of her. “Don’t worry, your mother will be on her way soon. She probably got distracted with some chore or other. Why don’t we go back inside? You can recite the times tables again. You did it so nicely.”

The girl’s eyes lit up. “I like numbers the best,” she said as she took Tabitha’s hand.

When Debbie Linson turned up fifteen minutes later, her blond hair a messy cloud around her red cheeks, Alice was just finishing her tables. The child jumped up from her chair, clinging to her mother’s skirt and hiding her face in its folds.

“I’m so sorry, I… I lost track of time… ” Debbie said, breathlessly, reaching down to stroke her daughter’s head.

Tabitha looked up at her and frowned. A blue mark that hadn’t been there in the morning had appeared on the woman’s cheek. It was partially hidden by her wayward curls, and when Debbie noticed her glance, she pulled the loose hair across her face.

“Are you alright?” Tabitha said softly.

Debbie’s eyes filled with tears, her lip trembling. “I’m… fine. Thank you… thank you for looking after Alice.”

She shook her head at Tabitha’s worried expression, then looked down at the child holding on to her so tightly. Tabitha nodded. 

“Well, it’s been really nice to have Alice for a little longer. She’s a clever girl. She knows all her tables off by heart.”

Debbie smiled. “Yes, she’s bright. My treasure, that’s what she is.” 

The girl looked up at her mother and beamed. Debbie’s face filled with concern.

“We must be getting back. My… husband will be wondering where we are,” Debbie said, taking hold of her daughter’s hand.

“I’ll walk with you to the gate,” Tabitha replied, following the quick steps of the woman as she half-ran, half-walked out into the school yard.

Debbie turned. “It’s mighty kind of you to spend time with Alice. I’ll try to be on time but… ”

Tabitha touched her arm gently. “You don’t have to explain anything. I’m always happy to have an enthusiastic pupil. It’s not a problem, really.”

Debbie leaned forward briefly, hugging Tabitha, her eyes shining with tears. She walked quickly away from the school, stopped, then turned and ran back, Alice trailing behind her.

“I forgot to mention, there’s a barn dance on this Saturday. All the townsfolk will be there. You should come. We could get to know each other.”

Tabitha smiled. “That’s a fine idea, Debbie. I’m not much of a dancer, though.”

A radiant smile lit up Debbie’s face. “It’ll be good to have a friend there,” she said before turning on her heels, pulling Alice with her.

Tabitha walked slowly back into the schoolhouse, thinking of the mark on Debbie’s face. It was plainly a bruise. She frowned. There was more to Debbie’s invitation to the dance than friendliness. 

It was as if she were afraid.