Real Cowboys. Roz Fox Denny

females who don’t take guff off cowboys. Max Brand’s books.”

      Ben hesitated fractionally before waving to summon Clover. “Is that how Marge describes the teacher? A feisty, no-guff type?”

      “Marge only chatted with her by phone. Saw a fax of her credentials. They’re so good, some on the board wondered what’s wrong with her. I mean, why was she hunting a teaching job so late in the year? Daryl White was sure she ran afoul of the law. He ran a background check. Nothing came up. Guess if you don’t want to stop there we can wait to see what Bill Hyder says after he drives the van tomorrow. He’s this month’s driver volunteer.”

      “You took me off bus detail, I hope.” Ben boosted Clover into the backseat of his Ford pickup’s king cab.

      “Yeah. You’ve got your hands full wading through lawyers. Of course, since this woman is the new widow in town, I could assign you Bill’s rotation for the hell of it.”

      “Don’t you dare. Tell Marge I’ll check on her teacher. I’ll call after I see what’s what.” Ben crawled in his truck and gave one of his half-cynical smiles before shutting the door and starting the motor. He muttered to the child in the backseat, “Clover, girl, I hope you like the new teacher. ’Cause God’s truth—I’d be the happiest man in Owyhee if I never had to cross the school threshold until you graduate.”

      “No school, Ben,” the little girl said firmly. “I’m gonna go with Bobbalou.”

      “We’d both like that, but…there are laws, princess.”

      “You don’t like laws.” She bounced against the seat. Strands of long black hair flew like errant smoke. “I’ll run off from school.”

      “No you won’t.” Ben sighed. “It’s lawmakers I don’t like, Clover.” And he didn’t like being squeezed off his land. He’d much prefer to keep running his cattle without any fences. But, Ray and Marge were right in one sense. It was a hard life. From the minute Clover had landed in his barn, she’d been the bright spot in his harsh existence. From the get-go he’d approached raising her the way he did foals and calves. While it had seemed to work for a while, this past year he’d seen signs that she needed more. Their short-lived teacher, Sikes, had said Clover should be tested, maybe sent to a special school—one for mentally impaired kids. What kind of teacher said stuff like that about a sweet little girl?

      Clover was a—free spirit, maybe. His fault, not hers.

      Reaching back, Ben smoothed her long bangs with his fingers. “You’ll like the new teacher, princess. I bet she’s gonna love you.” He sounded fierce, and recognized desperation in his statement, as if repeating the words enough would make them come true.

      Darkness had covered the purple hills by the time he bounced his heavy-duty Ford up the rocky slope to his remodeled line shack. A big Chevy sat outside the cabin, which was awash in light. Well, he had Marge’s answer. The teacher had arrived.

      He saw they’d turned out a horse. Dang, the corral needed shoring up. Ben mentally added a note to ask Chad up to repair it. He would’ve driven on out again if the front door to the cabin hadn’t opened. A boy and a dog ran out and down the porch steps.

      Letting the Ford idle, Ben stepped out on his running board. “Hi, there,” he called over the strident barking of a lunging dog. “I’m Ben Trueblood. Marge Goetz asked me to verify that the new teacher got moved in. You’d be her son, I imagine.”

      The gangly kid gripped the dog’s collar, but Ben wondered for how long. “Glad to see you’ve got protection. Tell your mom the van arrives at school around 9:00 a.m.”

      Before he could halt her, Clover crawled over the seat and shot out his door to plop on her knees in front of the dog, who quit barking and licked her face even as Ben’s heart jacked up into his throat.

      He glimpsed a second silhouette at the door. The teacher? If so, she wasn’t much taller than her boy. What had made him think she’d be burly? Probably Ray’s talk about feisty Texas women who handled guns.

      “Marge would’ve welcomed you,” he called, “but her car’s on the blink. I own this place.” He circled a hand. “Any problems, tell Clover at school. That’s her.” He stabbed a finger. “Princess, let’s go. We have to eat yet and get you a bath. Tomorrow’s a school day.”

      Clover kissed the dog’s nose, got up, waved to the boy she’d been chattering to and skipped back to the pickup. Ben had no more than lifted her in when the boy lost his hold on the retriever. In the semidarkness Ben saw a yellow streak zoom toward him. To make matters worse, the boy flailed his arms and chased his pet. The animal may have cottoned to Clover, but no one would mistake his bared teeth as a sign of affection for Ben, who felt those teeth sink into the soft leather of his left boot. Shaking his foot, Ben ultimately managed to close his door.

      Triumphant, the dog gave a last growl and trotted back to his master.

      KATE HAD CAUGHT ONLY SNATCHES of what their visitor said before Goldie went berserk. She’d levered herself out of her wheelchair and braced on the door casing as Dr. Pearsall said she could do now and then. She’d witnessed the unfolding scene and was glad the tall, lanky stranger managed to escape without being bitten. All she needed was to be told by her landlord to get rid of Danny’s dog. She’d caught that the man’s name was Trueblood and that the girl talking to Danny was his daughter. Oh, and Marge Goetz had car trouble.

      After Goldie trotted meekly back to Danny, Kate watched the truck’s taillights fade. She found it odd the man hadn’t come to the door. Although, on second thought, she was glad. In the soft light shining from inside his pickup, she saw he wore the garb of a conventional cowboy, not a farmer. This cabin could be part of a ranch, she mused, sinking back into her wheelchair.

      The last thing she wanted was for Danny to get friendly with a cowboy.

      “Good watchdog,” she murmured to Goldie as the retriever bounded into the house.

      CHAPTER TWO

      KATE DID NEED HER SECOND RAMP at school to get her to the front door, which she unlocked with an old-style brass key Marge had included in the box of student folders that had been left on her kitchen counter.

      The folders were a disappointment. No grades had been posted from the previous year and family information was sketchy. And there were eleven folders instead of fourteen. The number of students had dwindled even before Kate started. Schools closed when enrollment dipped too low.

      That concern and the general anxiety that went with a new job had seen her sewing curtains for the cabin long after Danny and Goldie had gone to sleep. She would’ve hung the curtains, but she needed Danny’s help. The realization that she’d be more dependent on him than she would have liked troubled her, too. Danny was only ten. Was she expecting too much? Melanie Steele would say yes. Last night Danny had worked without complaint. Today, though, he was grouchy. Kate was glad to leave him standing by the pickup. His absence let her savor the pleasure of entering her first classroom in too many years.

      It was a typical country school. A square box with weathered siding. The central cupola at the top of the peaked roof no longer held a school bell. The single main room fanned into wings on either side, housing the boys’ and girls’ restrooms. Wood floors were oiled a dark umber. Five short rows of desks with space to walk between occupied the center of the room. Kate counted desks for twenty students, but with Danny she would only have twelve.

      A huge oak desk stood at the front of the room and behind it a massive chair. What did it say to students, Kate thought: I’m the boss?

      She loved that the chalkboard was black, not green or white as in newer schools. It ran the length of the wall behind her desk. The U.S. flag stood in one corner and alongside it was a black potbellied stove. Dry wood had been stacked under one window.

      As she passed the wood, Kate sniffed the pungent pine scent. The air smelled mustily of smoke, wood oil, chalk dust and industrial-grade soap. Closing her eyes, she soaked in