The Teacher's Star

agreed to board Eenie during the week. Roland realized that she wouldn’t be able to attend school otherwise. Too, he’d needed to be free to do his job. The gang didn’t always wait until the night to plan things.
The girl hadn’t been happy that late afternoon when he collected her from the school. She’d stomped down the steps and raced to his sleigh, ignoring the goodbyes other children called to her.
“Here now! No goodbye for your friends or a hello for me?”
A mute, rebellious shake of her head answered him. With arms across her waist, the girl kicked at the inside of the sleigh’s front, startling the horse.
Putting a large, strong hand on his daughter’s leg, he calmed the horse with a soothing word or two. Then he fixed a quelling look at her.
“What’s put the bee in your bonnet, little Miss E?” Typically, this pet name teased a giggle or at least a smile from her. That day, nothing.
“I had to wait all week to buy a slate. Miss Perkins made me stand in the corner since I didn’t have one.”
Fist clenched around the leathers, Roland struggled mightily and gained control of his anger. Keeping his voice cordial, he set the horse into motion.
“Well, let’s go to Stewart’s store and get one. Might be, I can set up an account for school stuffs you’ll need.”
The store stood only a short distance from the school, so they arrived quickly. He put a hand on his daughter’s arm to stay her.
“Are you sure you didn’t do something else? You know, to get put in the corner?”
Eenie ducked her head, silent. That silence answered his question. She’d done something she wouldn’t admit to, he knew.
They’d conferred with the shop owner who supplied the slate. He also suggested a few items most of the few students in school had. Before they left, he walked them to a colorful display.
“Seems like your little girl should have one or two of these.” The man picked up a blue ribbon that matched the dress Eenie, unhappily, wore. When she was with him, the girl lived in overalls. “Most other girls in school wear ‘em.”
Now, three months later, Roland remembered the shiver of awareness that went through him at the low, musical voice speaking behind him. “Enid, that would look very nice in your hair.”
Eenie had been upset earlier when she left school, but fury now hardened her face at Miss Perkins’ words. The girl stomped out of the store, making it clear she didn’t want any ribbons.
The teacher threw him a challenging look. “Do you always let your daughter behave so rudely?”
Embarrassed pride caused him to take her bait. Pointing a finger in her direction, he’d growled in low, commanding tones, “Do you always interfere with families outside of school matters? I don’t think this is your classroom, Miss Perkins.”
His encounter with the teacher in November hadn’t been any more cordial. Paps, the livery owner, had told him earlier that day about the teacher’s questions around town. All of them had been about Roland.
It galled him that the woman would do that. Additionally, when he stopped to pay the Pettigrew sisters for the month, they’d uncomfortably told him that Eenie had caused no end of trouble during school.
As he waited in the sleigh that Friday, he’d mentally cautioned himself not to cause trouble. Finally, he was getting close to the gang. It wasn’t the time to get a reputation in town.
Rather than simply leaving once Eenie was bundled into the sleigh, he’d ignored good sense and stormed into the school. Slamming back the door, he clomped up to the teacher’s desk.
Rising, the small woman had squared her shoulders and glared.  There had been no fear in her eyes that day, he remembered.
“Mr. Anderson. Good! Your daughter is a hellion—”
He’d interrupted her. “That why you’re askin’ so many questions round town ‘bout me?”
She’d momentarily paled. Then an invisible rod stiffened her spine. “I do like to know about my parents.” She drew out the next word. “Especially when the child is troubled as well as a troublemaker.”
Hands fisted, he’d fired one sentence like a bullet. “Guess Eenie’s right about you hating us.” He’d pivoted and left, ignoring what the woman started to say.
No wonder Eenie felt justified in playing the prank during the Christmas play. She’d been given the job of bringing the baby Jesus to Mary. It all fit in with the narration an older student read.
With a muffled chuckle, he remembered the look on Mary’s face when Eenie handed her a wrapped piglet instead of the baby doll. It had wriggled free and all but flew toward Joseph. Then it raced under the feet of several in the audience. A body would have thought a revival broke out that day with the shouts and raised arms. All because of one small piglet and his mischievous daughter.
Before the teacher stepped in to restore order, she’d singled him out in the crowd with a hot glare. Thinking back on it, he had to be impressed at how easily she’d refocused the students. The play resumed, but he’d grabbed Eenie from the stage as it started again and stomped out of the school.
To his way of thinking, reasons stood on both sides of the fence for Miss Perkins and Eenie to dislike each other. Could be he’d been so focused on this gang that his daughter became the school’s bully. Separating her from the horses during her weekend stay at the ranch was the worst punishment he could imagine. The child spent as much time as possible with the small herd he’d boarded for the winter at the ranch.
After all, she didn’t know the horses were only a ruse. He’d used them as an excuse to be in the area. He had a warrant for the man