Tomorrow's Garden (7 page)

“There’s no need to say anything.” Lawrence smiled, and before she knew what was happening, Harriet felt herself smiling in response. “I just want you to know that I’m not the enemy.”

She looked at him, seeing the earnest expression on his face. “No,” she said slowly, “you’re not.”

“If we agree on that, can we dispense with some of the formality? My friends call me Lawrence.”

“And mine call me Harriet.”

“Thank you, Harriet.” The smile on Lawrence’s face set her pulse to racing in ways that even Thomas’s most fervent declarations of love had not.

6

The new minister had arrived. Lawrence grinned. Even though he disliked its proximity to the river, his house possessed the advantage of a central location. Not only was it sandwiched between the post office and the lawyer’s office, but it was also directly across from the block of Hochstrasse he privately called “Church Row” because it held the town’s two churches and their respective parsonages. If the stories that he had wanted to control the town were accurate, Michel Ladre had chosen wisely when he built his house here, for it afforded a clear view of most of Ladreville’s activity. Without straining, Lawrence could see who was headed for the mercantile and who entered the other establishments on Hochstrasse. The only problem was that the post office jutted out a bit, preventing him from viewing the school and its prickly teacher.

Lawrence reached for his hat and headed toward the door. He didn’t understand Harriet. For someone so young, she seemed to carry a huge chip on her shoulder. It seemed that she expected the worst of everyone. Look at how she’d misinterpreted his visit to the schoolhouse. While it was true that he’d been concerned about her ability to control the class and wanted to establish some rules for the students, he hadn’t been lying when he’d told her that he’d come for her benefit. But she’d been convinced that he’d sought to undermine her authority. Why? He could understand her wariness if she’d been a Ranger. Because their job put them in contact with some mighty undesirable creatures, Rangers quickly learned to trust no one. But Harriet was a teacher. Surely that experience had not engendered such suspicion. And, though he didn’t doubt that it had been difficult, it was hard to believe that the strain of raising five siblings had caused her prickliness. Lawrence settled his hat on his head and touched his holster, assuring himself that the six-shooter was in place. There was no point in speculating. If ever there was a woman who defied understanding, it was Harriet Kirk. Her behavior was even more baffling than Lottie’s. Though they’d parted amicably, Lawrence would eat his hat if the prim, proper, and prickly Miss Kirk ever accepted his offer of a friendly ear. But Harriet was not his problem. He had duties, and they did not include trying to fathom the mind of Ladreville’s schoolmarm.

“You must be our new minister.” Lawrence studied the man who had climbed out of the wagon and was hitching the horses to the post. Though the town had been buzzing with the news that Pastor Sempert’s replacement was due any day, no one seemed to know anything about him. He was not what Lawrence had expected. Though he couldn’t explain why, Lawrence had pictured a short, dark-haired man. Like Pastor Sempert, the stranger was tall, probably an even six feet, but his shoulders were not bowed, and while Pastor Sempert was sturdily built, this man was almost painfully thin. Lawrence had seen scarecrows with more substance.

He extended his hand for a shake. “I’m Lawrence Wood, Ladreville’s mayor and sheriff for the next four and a half months.”

The man’s grip was firm, and when he smiled, his ordinary features lit with enthusiasm. “You’re right. I’m Pastor Russell, but please call me Sterling.” To Lawrence’s surprise, the new minister’s voice bore no hint of a German accent. “I certainly hope I’ll be serving Ladreville for longer than four months.” He gave his dust-covered wagon a rueful glance. “It seems like it took me almost that long to get here from Pennsylvania.”

Lawrence had heard something about the new minister being fresh from a seminary somewhere back East. Though the townspeople had hoped for someone to be sent from the Old Country, that hadn’t happened. “How was the journey?”

“Long.” Sterling Russell’s lips quirked in another smile, and he ran his hand over his brow, laughing as he shook off drops of perspiration. “Someone should have warned me about the heat.”

“Heat?” The man’s expression told Lawrence that, unlike Harriet Kirk, he wouldn’t mind a little joking. “This is a cool spell.” It wasn’t, of course. The sun had emerged from the rain, seemingly determined to compensate for the two days of cool weather. “You should have been here last month. August is a real scorcher.” That was no lie. Even the Hill Country’s trees couldn’t block the sun’s intense rays.

Glancing down the street, Lawrence saw a gaggle of women leave the mercantile and head in this direction. Nodding shortly, he gestured toward the parsonage and started walking. The new minister did not need a welcoming committee before he had a chance to get settled.

As Lawrence and Sterling approached the small stone edifice, Pastor Sempert emerged from the parsonage, looking older and more tired than Lawrence had ever seen him. His gait slightly unsteady, he greeted the young minister with a warm smile. “I regret that these old bones don’t move as fast as they used to. Now, come inside, and I’ll show you around. You’re welcome too, Lawrence.”

Lawrence shook his head. “I’d be in the way, but I’m just across the street.” He addressed his words to Sterling Russell and gestured toward his new home. “Come anytime you’re free.”

The younger man grinned. “I hope you don’t regret the invitation.”

“I won’t.” Though the minister was not what he had expected, instincts honed by years of having to judge a man within seconds told Lawrence that Sterling Russell would be a friend. That was a welcome thought, even if Lawrence would be leaving Ladreville in a few months. A man might as well enjoy those months as much as he could.

“Mayor Wood, we need to speak to you.” The first group of women had dispersed, but two more women had come from the opposite direction. Lawrence tried not to frown, though judging from the sour expression on the short, dark-haired woman’s face, he suspected he would not enjoy the next few minutes, especially since her companion wore an equally forbidding expression. The two women had obviously dressed for the occasion, for they both sported what Lawrence guessed were their Sunday bonnets. Made of straw, the dark-haired woman’s had bright pink ribbons and dried flowers on one side, while her companion’s hat boasted blue ribbons and several long bird feathers. The hats were festive; the women’s faces were not. Whatever Flowers and Feathers wanted to discuss, the likelihood was that it would not be pleasant.

“Shall we go inside my office?” Lawrence gestured toward the building across the street.

Feathers shook her head. “What we have to say can be said here. We don’t mind if others overhear us.”

“Certainly.” The only good Lawrence could see from that statement was that it was unlikely the conversation would be lengthy. The two women wouldn’t want to stand on the sidewalk indefinitely, particularly if Pastors Sempert and Russell returned to unload Pastor Russell’s wagon. While they might not care about the rest of its citizens, Lawrence doubted that the women would be willing for Ladreville’s religious leaders to overhear them. “What can I do for you ladies?”

Flowers pursed her lips before she announced, “You’ve got to stop her.”

Though he couldn’t explain why, Harriet Kirk’s face flashed through Lawrence’s mind. He dismissed the thought. Surely the schoolteacher wasn’t the object of these women’s anger. But as Feathers continued the explanation, Lawrence knew his first instinct had been correct. “She’s frightening our children,” Feathers said.

“Who?” It was a formality, but he had to ask. And then he had to learn why these women had made such allegations.

“Miss Kirk, the schoolmarm.” Flowers identified the cause of her concern.

For what seemed like the hundredth time since he’d arrived, Lawrence wondered why he’d ever thought himself suited to be Ladreville’s mayor. Though he hadn’t agreed with everything the Rangers had done, there was no doubt that he knew how to catch bandits. Dealing with irate women was another story.

He kept his face impassive as he looked at Flowers. “What exactly is she doing that frightens them?” Though Harriet’s expression could be formidable, Lawrence doubted that children would report that to their parents. He could imagine his own mother’s reaction if he’d come home from school, complaining that the teacher frowned at him. Ma would have told him he was lucky that’s all she had done.

“She keeps talking about emergencies,” Feathers said.

“She makes them practice leaving the schoolhouse quickly.”

Clearly annoyed that Flowers had interrupted, Feathers seized the moment to announce, “My Hortense is scared. She worries that something horrible will happen to us.”

“André has nightmares. He says he’s afraid he won’t be able to get out of our house in time.”

Lawrence suspected that if he didn’t interject a question, the two women would continue their litany of complaints indefinitely. Besides, he needed to clarify the problem. “Are your children afraid to go to school?” That was how the conversation had begun, with the women claiming that Harriet frightened their children. Now it sounded as if the fear was centered on their homes.

As Flowers shook her head, her pink bonnet ribbons bounced. “André isn’t. He says she’s an even better teacher than Mrs. Canfield.” The compliment was delivered grudgingly.

“What about your daughter?” Lawrence turned to Feathers.

The woman shrugged. “Hortense never said she didn’t want to go. Most mornings she leaves earlier than she needs to.”

Though the women would not agree, it was clear that while the problem may have originated with Harriet Kirk, it was now the mothers’ responsibility. Still, Lawrence was enough of a politician not to say that. “I’ll convey your concerns to Miss Kirk.” He grimaced as he listened to himself. Look at what had happened. He’d been in Ladreville less than two months, and he was starting to sound as pompous as Michel Ladre. What would he be like after another four and a half months? Worse, what if his time here didn’t end in January? The women had their problems. His was, despite the announcements he’d placed in newspapers all across Texas, no one appeared interested in replacing him.

“Will you do it soon?” Feathers asked.

“Yes, ma’am.” Lawrence tried not to frown as he imagined Harriet’s reaction.

“We’re going to the German church tomorrow.” Harriet delivered what she knew would be an unwelcome announcement as the family gathered for breakfast. As she’d expected, the boys groaned in protest. Though the family had alternated between the two churches, the children had expressed a preference for the French services, a fact Harriet suspected was due to the presence of stained glass. With neither service being conducted in English, the younger Kirks complained about boredom. At least the French sanctuary offered more visual stimulation. “I know it’s our week to go to the other one, but the German congregation has a new pastor,” Harriet said. “Common courtesy says we should be present for his first service.”

Mary gave Harriet a pleading smile. “Can I sit with Eva? She’s my friend.”

It was a good idea. The church would probably be more crowded than normal, meaning the Kirks would not have a pew to themselves. Perhaps they could share with Isabelle, Gunther, and Eva. “I’ll talk to Isabelle today.”

“We’d love to have you sit with us.” Isabelle’s brown eyes sparkled, and her face glowed as she smiled. As she did each Saturday, she was working at the mercantile, helping her parents on what was normally the busiest day of the week. To Harriet’s surprise, when she’d entered the store, she’d discovered only three customers waiting in line. Though a few others wandered through the aisles, the women fingering lace-trimmed handkerchiefs and studying the rows of spices while the men discussed the relative merits of nails and screws, there was less of a crowd than she’d expected. It was, Isabelle claimed, the morning lull.

The pretty brunette leaned across the counter, her smile turning conspiratorial. “I’m glad you’ll be with us.” Isabelle laid a hand on top of Harriet’s and squeezed it. “I can’t begin to tell you what a difference Mary has made. Eva’s so excited about having a friend that sometimes she goes a whole day without asking me when I’ll give her a baby brother or sister.”

It wasn’t only Eva who was excited about having a friend. Harriet reveled in the pleasure of being able to confide in Isabelle. She raised an eyebrow as she looked at the woman who’d become her friend. “Are you . . . ?”