The Rancher and the Girl Next Door. Jeannie Watt

before that, he’d been the rebellious brother.

      Now he owed it to his family to be the good brother. And this was one time he was not going to fail.

      CHAPTER TWO

      CLAIRE SMILED AT HER NEW class—all ten of them—and wondered who’d masterminded the snake incident. They all looked more than capable of it, but at least the younger students, the fifth and sixth graders, were smiling back at her with varying degrees of curiosity and friendliness. By contrast, the five older students, the seventh and eighth graders, stared at her with impassive, just-try-to-engage-us-and-see-how-far-you-get expressions.

      “I’m Miss Flynn,” Claire said, as she wrote her name on the overhead projector.

      “We know who you are,” one of the kids muttered snidely. Claire glanced up, startled by the blatant rudeness, but she couldn’t tell who’d spoken. “I’m looking forward to a productive year, and I thought that in order to—”

      One of the eighth-grade boys raised his hand.

      “Yes?”

      “Do you think you’ll be here for the whole year?”

      “It’s one of my goals,” Claire said dryly. She knew that her class had had three teachers in two years, each less effective than the previous one. “As I was saying, in order to get to know each other better, I thought we could all introduce ourselves and tell one thing we did this summer. How about starting on this side of the room?” She nodded at the boy in eighth grade, Dylan, who sat farthest to her right.

      “I think everyone knows who I am. This summer I slept.” He fixed her with a steely look.

      Claire quelled an instant urge to jump into battle, as her instincts were telling her to do, deciding it would be wiser to bide her time and get a read on her opponent.

      “How nice,” she said. She nodded at the girl sitting next to him.

      “I’m Toni.”

      “Did you accomplish anything this summer?”

      “No.” But then Toni suddenly made an O with her mouth. “Yes,” she amended, with a satisfied expression. “I almost talked my mom into getting rid of her bum of a boyfriend.”

      Claire gave the girl a tight smile and moved on.

      “My name is Ashley,” the redheaded girl sitting next to Toni chirped. “This summer I totally revamped my wardrobe.” She jangled the bracelets on her wrist as if to prove the point.

      Claire was saved from the remaining introductions by the sudden appearance of a first grader.

      “Mrs. Gunderson said to tell you we have sheep!” he squeaked, his eyes wide with excitement.

      “Sheep?”

      “On the play field.”

      “And…?” Claire asked with a frown, but her students were already out of their seats and heading for the door. She followed them, wondering if this was an elaborate ruse and if she should order them back into the classroom, but then Bertie emerged from the office.

      “Sorry about this. The older kids herd sheep better than the younger ones. It should only take a few minutes. I’ve just called Echetto and told him to get his buns over here and take care of his flock. The man really should leave his dog when he goes somewhere. The dog works a lot faster than the kids.”

      A thundering herd of woolly bodies circled past the front of the school and disappeared around the side. Bertie’s class was crowded onto the steps. Trini, the school aid, had the four kindergarten kids perched on the windowsills in Bertie’s room, where they laughed and giggled as the sheep ran by again, the older students in hot pursuit.

      “They like to watch,” Bertie explained, before cupping her hand to her mouth and yelling at Claire’s students, “Just get them into Echetto’s front yard. He can put them away when he gets back.”

      Claire was impressed by the way the kids worked in unison to gather the sheep and herd them off the play field, onto the road and then halfway down the block to the house that apparently belonged to Echetto, whoever he was. Ashley and Toni hung toward the rear, but when a couple of ewes made a break for it, they expertly chased them back into the flock. A few minutes later all the kids returned, filed past Claire into the school and took their seats. They’d been smiling while they were outside, but the older ones were once again stony faced—except when they looked at each other.

      “Well, this is a first,” Claire said. “We don’t have many sheep emergencies in Las Vegas.”

      No one smiled back. In fact, they were making a real effort to make her feel stupid for trying to talk to them like people. “Are you always this rude?” she asked softly.

      The younger kids glanced down. The older ones continued to stare at her.

      “We can work on manners,” she added.

      No response, although she noticed the younger kids were now watching the older students, looking for cues.

      “This morning I’m going to have you take placement tests, so I can plan the English and math curriculums. Then, after break, we’ll do a writing activity. I need you to clear your desks and we’ll get going on the tests right now, while you’re fresh.”

      The older kids grudgingly shoved notebooks into their desks, a couple of them muttering under their breath.

      The rest of the day passed so slowly and dismally that Claire was beginning to wish the sheep would escape again. She knew the younger ones were not on board with the older ones—yet. But they were watching and learning.

      She had to do something. Fast. The headache that had begun shortly after the sheep roundup was approaching migraine status by now.

      “I have a list of supplies I’d like you to have within the next week,” she announced just before afternoon recess.

      Ashley raised her hand and Claire nodded at her. “What about the kids who can’t afford supplies?”

      A reasonable question, and one that might have denoted concern for those with financial limitations—if it hadn’t been for the girl’s condescending tone. Ashley, with her salon-streaked hair, Abercrombie T-shirt and Guess jeans, was obviously not going to have difficulty buying five dollars’ worth of supplies. And then, as if to make it perfectly clear that she was establishing her own status, she glanced pointedly over at one of the fifth graders, a rather shabbily dressed boy named Jesse.

      Claire looked Ashley straight in the eye. “If you have trouble affording supplies, please see me in private.”

      The girl flushed. “I wasn’t talking about myself,” she snapped.

      “Well, it is kind of you to be concerned about others,” Claire interjected, before the girl could name names. “If any of you do not have the opportunity to buy supplies, we’ll work something out. Please see me.” She smiled at Ashley. “Does that answer your question?”

      The girl did not bother to reply. Claire decided to fight the politeness battle later. She noticed a couple of the younger kids trying not to smile. Apparently they appreciated Ashley getting hers, and Claire made a mental note to find out more about the girl and her family.

      The last two hours of the day passed without incident, although it became apparent by then that Ashley held a grudge and owned a cell phone. Ashley’s mother arrived just before school ended. She waited in the hall outside the classroom, marching up to Claire as soon as the room had emptied of students.

      “Miss Flynn. I’m Ashley’s mother. Deirdre Landau.”

      Claire could see the resemblance in both features and clothes. In fact, the mother was dressed almost exactly like the daughter, in pricey jeans and T-shirt, with expensive hair in a make-believe color. Claire was in no position to comment on make-believe hair colors, since she was a little blonder than nature had ever intended,