Amanda's Beau (16 page)
Authors: Shirley Raye Redmond
"Isn't this something?" Rex asked with enthusiasm. "Mr. Phillips told Mr. Gladney he's got work for me today."
"I know. I saw a hefty pile of potsherds back there. Mr. Phillips has been showing me around the site."
"Did he tell you they found a little room filled with dried out bull snakes â dozens and dozens of them â all shriveled up like mummies?"
Amanda feigned a horrified shudder. "How dreadful."
"Excavating, preserving, and interpreting," Rex went on. "Those are the most important things archeologists do." With a sheepish grin, he added, "I'm learning a lot. I even came out here during lunch recess. It's so exciting to watch everything going on."
"You're quite a scholar, Rex," she said, squeezing his shoulder. Amanda couldn't help noticing the shining look of pleasure, which swept across his face at her compliment.
"Aunt Mandy, can you take my books home with you? I have to check in with Mr. Phillips and get to work."
"Sure, Rex. See you at suppertime. I'll take care of the chickens for you this afternoon â just this once."
Rex waved his thanks and hurried away, eager to prove his usefulness.
"I believe we may have a budding archeologist in our midst," Gil said, stepping up beside her, a well-sharpened pencil tucked boyishly behind one ear. He held a thick ledger in one hand. "Rex seems enthralled."
"We'll see how enthralled he is after he's washed and sorted a million potsherds," she said with a knowing smile.
Gil laughed, causing Amanda to feel ridiculously happy for the moment.
"I see your friend has put you to work too." She indicated the ledger.
"Yes, I'm supply sergeant and general pay master rolled into one," he admitted. "Nate calls me his âman Friday'. I do a little bit of everything."
"Is he having trouble hiring the men he needs?"
Gil shook his head. "Not a bit. Every farmer in the county wants to hire on or sell him the use of a buckboard and team. What's going on over there, do you know?" He indicated the cluster of men hovering around Nate, some on their knees around a gaping hole.
"There was an accident," Amanda informed him. "A man fell into one of the chambers below. Someone went to fetch the doctor. I think they are trying to decide how to get him out."
"Now you know why Nate was reluctant to hire Rex when the boy asked him for a job at the site," Gil explained.
Amanda nodded. "I appreciate his concern for Rex's safety. Mr. Phillips gave me a tour of the work done so far," she added. Did she only imagine a shaft of jealousy lighting his eyes for a brief moment? "But there are no pictographs."
"Early days yet," Gil said. He stood looking down at her with a smile on his lips. His penetrating gaze made her breath come in shallow spurts. She yearned to take a step nearer, to reach out to hold his hand. Instead, she averted her eyes and stammered an excuse for leaving.
"It's time for me to go. I told Mrs. Martinez I wouldn't dawdle, and that's exactly what I've been doing."
Although she didn't admit it aloud, Amanda realized she'd stayed as long as she had for this moment â knowing Gil Gladney would come to the site as soon as he'd dismissed his students for the day. She had wanted to see him, to speak with him. Now that she'd done so it was time to go home, even though she didn't want to.
"I need to get to work too," Gil said. "Nate keeps me on a tight leash most afternoons. It was a pleasure to see you again, Miss Dale. A particular pleasure." He touched the brim of his hat.
Amanda noted a special tenderness in his eyes. Or had she only imagined it? She wished, oh how she wished, their circumstances were different. Her heart pounding, she longed for him to take her in his arms and kiss her, and she didn't care who might witness the deed. There, she'd admitted it â if only to herself.
"Goodbye, Mr. Gladney," she said, her cheeks burning with the embarrassment of her secret thoughts. As she turned to leave, he reached out, lightly touching her sleeve.
"Miss Dale?" It sounded like a question. He quickly let his hand drop.
"Yes?"
"You are coming to the spelling bee on Sunday afternoon, aren't you?" His blue eyes gleamed.
"I'll try," she promised. "What did the pastor think about holding the event on a Sunday afternoon?"
"It was his idea, actually. As he pointed out, many of the families would already be in town for church services. He suggested they make a day of it. There's going to be a potluck social after services. The spelling bee will start at 1:30." After a moment's hesitation, Gil added, "Say you'll come, Miss Dale. I've asked Nate to be the moderator this year."
With a wry smile, Amanda said, "Mr. Phillips should enjoy the task, I think. Your friend strikes me as the sort of man who thrives on being the center of attention."
She wondered if Gil would take offense at her remark, but he did not look at all annoyed. In fact, Amanda caught the twinkle in his eye and realized he'd been amused by it.
"You are absolutely right. Nate has always been a bit of a show-off," Gil admitted. "I hope to see you Sunday."
As he glanced casually over her shoulder, the smile slipped from his face. Amanda turned to see what â or whom â he was looking at. It was Ozzie Lancaster and the man she guessed to be his father. They stood beside the empty wagon where she'd left Dolores's horse and buggy.
"Did you walk, Miss Dale?" Gil asked quietly. A shade of anxiety swept across his face.
"No, I came in Dolores Martinez's buggy â over there." She pointed.
"Let me escort you to the buggy.
Amanda felt secretly relieved by his offer. She remembered Rex and Ozzie had recently brawled and guessed Gil wanted to spare her an unpleasant encounter with the boy or perhaps the boy's father.
As they approached the vehicle, Amanda avoided making eye contact with either one of the Lancasters, but she felt their gimlet eyes boring into her. Tossing Rex's schoolbooks onto the seat of the buggy allowed her the opportunity to sneak a sidelong glance at the young troublemaker, who had taunted her nephew by calling him âchicken boy.' He didn't look so tough, but she guessed his father would be as mean as a rattlesnake.
"Until Sunday afternoon, Miss Dale," Gil said, assisting her into the buggy.
"Until Sunday," Amanda repeated. She'd already made up her mind to ask Dolores if she would be willing to sit with Ella again on the afternoon of the spelling bee.
****
As Amanda drove away, Gil marveled once again at the woman's sweetness and strength. Reluctantly, he turned his attention to Oz Lancaster and his son. "Good afternoon, Lancaster," he said. "Have you come to watch the excavation?"
The thick-necked man straightened his broad shoulders and stood taller, his posture indicating he was braced for a confrontation. His close-set eyes gave him a belligerent look. "My boy here says you're the man to see about hiring on."
"No, you'll need to speak with Nate Phillips. He's over there," Gil said, pointing. "Ozzie can introduce you."
The other man's stance seemed to relax a bit. Gil guessed Lancaster was pleased he didn't need the schoolteacher's approval to get the job. Gil also noted Ozzie wasn't as cocky in his father's presence as he was in the classroom. Ozzie chewed his thumbnail. His eyes appeared edgy and alert beneath the short brim of his brown wool cap. Feeling sorry for him, Gil guessed the boy could never do anything to earn his father's approval.
"If you and Mr. Phillips come to an agreement, come see me," Gil went on, addressing the elder Lancaster. "I'll put your name in the pay ledger. He pays extra for a wagon and team, if you can spare them."
Gil had half a mind to warn Nate against hiring the surly farmer. He didn't want to deal with the man any more than he had to. But he also realized this attitude was certainly not a Christian one. Oz Lancaster, like every other man in or around the village, could probably use the extra cash Nate dispensed like penny candy.
Turning to Ozzie, Gil said, "I'm hoping you'll spend some extra time in the evenings at home going over the spelling list. I'd like to see you and the other older boys give Caroline Lister a bit of competition in the upcoming spelling bee."
"I ain't no good at spelling," Ozzie replied with a sullen growl.
"Ozzie, you're a lot smarter than you think you are. I told your father so last week."
Gil noted the curious, sidelong glance the boy cast in his father's direction. He guessed Mr. Lancaster had not mentioned his visit to the schoolhouse. On the other hand, he bet Ozzie had not told his father about the spelling contest or the fight with Rex Stewart either. The two probably did little conversing together at all.
Oz Lancaster shrugged and strode away, headed toward the men surrounding Nate like a loose, wriggling knot. When his father was out of earshot, Ozzie swept Gil with a defiant gaze and said, "I ain't even sure if I'm coming or not to the spelling bee. You can't make me. It's on Sunday."
"The event is not mandatory," Gil replied. "It's up to you to decide whether you'll come or not. Choose wisely."
When the boy slid him a cold frown, Gil went on. "So much of life is out of your control â you don't get to chose your last name or where you're born or who you're related to or what you look like. So when life does offer you a choice, you need to consider it carefully. Make up your mind what kind of man you want to be, Ozzie."
Ozzie shrugged, giving Gil a quizzical glance before striding away to where Nate stood talking with his father. When Gil mentioned the conversation later to Nate over a casual supper of cold ham, skillet cornbread, and canned peaches, his friend surprised him by exclaiming in a derisive manner, "Gil, when did you get to be such a prosy old parson?"
"What do you mean?" he asked, flushing with annoyance.
Nate pushed his chair away from the small table that occupied one corner of Gil's bachelor quarters at the back of the schoolroom. He shook his head. "You've been teaching school too long. You're even giving lectures outside the classroom now. You should hear yourself."
Gil said nothing as he poured himself another cup of coffee. Had he really become so stodgy? On the other hand, maybe it was Nate who was changing. He'd noticed, while saying grace before their meal, how his friend had scarcely bowed his head. When Gil had pronounced the "Amen," Nate slid him a look of slight amusement before helping himself to the ham.
"That fine-looking Amanda Dale stopped by today," Nate informed him. "Did you see her? I must say she's quite a peach."
"I saw her," Gil replied in between sips of coffee.
"She baffles me though," Nate admitted. "Most women warm up to me in a hurry. When I saw her today at the site, I was certain she'd come to get my attention. But she actually seemed more interested in what we were doing. Her manner wasn't at all flirtatious. She didn't even bat an eyelash when I called her âmy dear Miss Dale.' In fact, she acted liked she hadn't heard me at all."
"Leave her alone, Nate," Gil advised. "The woman doesn't have time to flirt. I told you, she's taking care of a premature infant and her ailing sister."
Frankly, he was relieved to learn Nate was not making headway with winning Amanda over. He couldn't bear the thought of another man â even Nate â basking in the warm glow of Amanda's smile.
Nate stroked his stubbly chin, murmuring, "Hmm." Sitting back in his chair, he said, in a pondering manner, "She must be the sympathetic type, a little mother hen. I'll look at her soulfully and tell her how lonely I am. I bet I can gain her attention then." He chuckled, as though pleased with himself.
"Don't toy with her affections, Nate," Gil said gravely.
"Is that a warning?" There was a gleam of interest in his friend's eyes.
"Miss Dale is a friend of mine and the aunt of one of my best pupils. She's had a lot of misfortune in her life recently, and it would be cruel to tease her. Besides," Gil went on, putting his cup down on the table, "she's not your type."
"True, she's not at all sophisticated," Nate admitted. "But there's something charmingly quaint about her. I haven't tried that for quite some time." He studied Gil with calculating eyes.
Gil clenched his jaw, succumbing to silent fury. He stood up and began clearing the table, fighting an overwhelming impulse to pop Nate in the nose with his fist, to warn him to stay away from Amanda Dale⦠or else! But in good conscience, he couldn't do so. After all, he had no claim on Amanda's affections. He had never declared his feelings for her nor had she expressed any feelings for him. There was no family relationship between them either, so he had no right to tell Nate what he could or could not do.
"C'mon, Gil, you told me there was nothing between you and Amanda," Nate said with an impatient shrug. "Is there or isn't there?"
"There isn't," Gil stated flatly. "But I respect and admire her â as a friend. I advise you to do the same."
"Come off your high horse, Gil. I don't intend to ruin the woman," Nate replied. "I'm just looking for a little carefree flirtation while I'm here. What's the harm in it, for Pete's sake?"
"Maybe you should select another victim."
Nate laughed and punched him playfully in the shoulder. "I'm going to the schoolroom to work on my field notes. You can do the dishes. I'll see you later."
As he carried the dishes back to the small sink, Gil watched his friend pick up his satchel and leave. Nate had always been what some called a lady-killer. Charm seemed to ooze from his pores. The fellow couldn't help it. Gil lifted a silent but fervent prayer Amanda would be able to resist Nate's romantic dalliance. If she didn't, he feared her heart would be broken, and Gil didn't want to have to pick up the pieces.
"Are you feeling all right, Mandy?" Ella asked, giving her sister a searching glance. "You don't look so good this morning."
Amanda shrugged as she covered Ella's lap with a small quilt. "I've got a headache. It's nothing to worry about."