The Teacher's Star

help her up the steps of the passenger car. After seating herself on the thinly padded second-class seat, she looked through misty eyes out the window.
Her mother stood, waving. She blew a kiss. It was an old game and the daughter automatically caught the invisible kiss and brought it to her pink-tinged cheek. The leaving was hard, but adventure—and students—beckoned.
The school year in Belle would be late starting. The officials had agreed to hold the position while she tied up loose ends in Missouri. She had promised to teach for two weeks in a classroom in Springfield, starting the classroom for a man who’d been in a cast over the summer.
The teacher was expected to be well enough to take over by the third week of September. As she’d only committed herself to the school for those few weeks, Delia was able to hire on as Belle’s teacher. Her first full-time position!
Now, on her way west, she felt hope bloom inside her chest even as her body swayed with the motion of the train. Her hope was huge and ruffled, she imagined, like the many layers of petals in a peony blossom.
She almost giggled aloud at her silly comparison. She did so love peonies, even though ants always crawled over and inside the buds. After all, without the ants the peony blossoms could never open.
Oh, dear me! Maybe that wasn’t a good comparison. Did she want a lot of inconveniences before she realized her dream? No, not a peony. Perhaps her hope could be compared to—
“Is anyone using this seat, miss?” A deep voice pulled her from her silly game of imagining.
Smiling at the man from under her straw bonnet, she shook her head. “Please, feel free to sit here.”
An older gentleman if the creases at his eyes spoke of honest living instead of a misspent past, he appeared to be in his early fifties. He lowered his wiry body onto the seat next to her and stowed a carpet bag at his feet.
“Emory Jessup, Miss, at your service.” He grinned and touched the brim of his low-crowned hat, greeting her.
For years, women had looked past her, children had teased her, and men seemed predatory to Delia. This man looked into her face and treated her as he would any other white woman.
Smiling broadly, she looked directly in his face as she returned the greeting. “Miss Delia Perkins, late of Springfield.”
For several hours, she and Mr. Jessup sat side by side. He asked her many questions, one of the first being her destination. At the mention of Wyoming, his eyes twinkled.
“Say, you know I visited a little town out there once. Nice place called Belle.” As he named the town, an odd expectancy shone from his intense blue eyes. It caused Delia to pull back slightly from him.
Controlling a stutter of surprise, she was unable to suppress the doubt in her voice as she spoke. “Why, uh, how odd! I happen to be the new schoolteacher for Belle.”
“You don’t say. That is quite something. I wonder, do you know anyone in the town already?”
Suddenly, Delia had the oddest image of Mr. Jessup holding a fishing pole. Was she the trout he wanted to catch? His questions seemed suspicious.
Still, if this were an innocent coincidence? It would be nice to find out more about the town. Maybe, just until the next depot, she would continue to speak with him. After that, certainly a different seat would open up. She would use the excuse of wanting a new view from the train when she moved. As she rehearsed the excuse in her mind, it sounded very mature.
Forgive me, sir. I see a seat on the other side. Allow me to pass, as I would like a new view of our great country as the train takes us further into the west.
Oh, that did sound nice. Very much like something her teachers would say.
“Miss, you didn’t answer my question?” The gentle prodding in Mr. Jessup’s voice brought her back to the present. Her light brown eyes probably betrayed confusion at his statement since he repeated it.
With a weak chuckle, he tried to smile. Not the broad grin he’d flashed when greeting her earlier. No, this was the smile of a man who either felt very tired or suddenly weak. “Remember? I asked if you knew any--anyone in Belle.”
Unease changed to concern as she came fully out of her imaginings and studied the man. He had a pasty color and his eyes seemed pinched, none of the intensity of a few minutes before lingering in them.
“Are you alright?” Alarmed, she nonetheless kept her voice lowed and controlled. Years of attempting to be invisible taught her how to do that well. No wonder she still daydreamed much too often.
He shook his head and inched back his dark coat with trembling fingers. A shaft of sunshine glinted off a star pinned to his vest. She made out the U and Mar before the coat slipped from Jessup’s fingers, covering the star again.
“Answer. Please. Will anyone know—” He broke off and sank back into the seat, clutching his middle. She wrung her hands, not sure how to help. When his eyes met hers, they seemed to will her to answer.
“Will anyone know me? No, no one at all.”
Gripping his right side, the man struggled with his words. “Heard—you say—Belle—depot.”
Delia’s brows flew upward. “So, you knew where I was headed? That’s why you sat by me?”
He gave an abrupt nod and reached into his inside coat pocket. His right fist gripped something tightly as he withdrew it. A piece of paper appeared in his left hand from his outside pocket.
“Swear—”
“You want me to cuss?” Was the man delirious?
“Sign. Like swearing in…to office.” The man thrust the paper toward her as if reaching up to her