Her Cowboy Soldier (9 page)

“I don’t know. I didn’t ask them. But I asked the principal, and he’s okay with it, so you might want to take it up with him if it bothers you.”

She didn’t miss the note of irritation in his voice, but she’d already decided the best way to get through this day was to kill Josh with kindness. “I noticed on the way over here this morning that Erica and her volunteers have started building the raised beds for the community garden.”

“Yes. After I sent in an estimate of water costs, they approved the project. But you should know that. You cover the school board meetings.”

She had known it; she’d merely seen it as an avenue to a less-hostile conversation with him. “Are you still helping her with the water system?”

He was silent a moment. “You’re not going to stop with the questions, are you?”

“No,” she said cheerfully. “It’s a long ride to Durango and I need something to do. Besides, I really am interested.”

She sensed his struggle with whether or not to answer her, but apparently she’d won over his doubts. “We got the permit to collect water from the roof this week,” he said. “Next week we’ll start assembling the collection tanks. My dad’s got an old stock tank he’s donating, and the machine shop on Fourth is building a cover for it.”

“That’s really nice of you to offer to help,” she said.

“You sound surprised. I can be a nice guy.”

He could also be sarcastic and annoying—but she wasn’t going to let him get to her. “Tell me more about the science bee.”

“The students are assigned to teams—four or five students on a team, usually grouped by grade. They have to answer science-related questions. The last team standing wins.”

“Sounds fun,” she said.

“It is. If the judges disagree with their answer, the team has two minutes in which to defend their answer. It can get pretty exciting.”

“So you’ve done this before?”

He shook his head. “I found some footage of competition online, and we’ve been practicing after school.”

“We’ve even got names for our teams.” Chase leaned forward to join the conversation. “The seniors and juniors are the Quasars, and the sophomores and freshmen are the Brainstorms.”

“That’s great.” Amy added the names to the other information she’d collected.

“Hey, Chase, what is a leveret?” Mouse called from the back of the van.

“Too easy. It’s a young hare.” Chase looked smug.

“Which gas freezes to form dry ice?” Josh asked.

“Is it carbon dioxide?” Heather asked.

“Yes. Now can you tell me at what rate is carbon dioxide increasing, per year, in the atmosphere?”

“One part per million,” Heather answered.

“Perfect.”

Amy sat back and became a silent observer as Josh and the kids lobbed questions and answers back and forth. Josh had an easy relationship with the kids. They respected him, but they clearly liked him, too.

How could he be so relaxed with them, but not with her?

At the high school in Durango, they found a space in the parking lot and joined the dozens of teens milling around outside the auditorium. The two mothers handed out the team shirts—red for the Quasars, blue for Brainstorms, with Hartland High School across the back. “Some of us from the parents group pitched in,” one of the women said when Amy asked about the shirts.

Josh hooked two fingers in his mouth and whistled loudly. “Huddle up, everybody.” Amy snapped pictures while he gave the students their final instructions. “Remember, our goal is to do our best and to have fun,” he said. “Work together and if you don’t know the answer, don’t be afraid to admit it. Since this is our first year, we want to scope out the competition and learn from them so we can do even better next year.”

He put his hand in the center of the circle and they all piled hands on top. Amy climbed onto a nearby planter to shoot the scene from above, her throat tightening as she focused on Josh’s hook resting on top of the stack of hands. She loved that he didn’t try to hide his physical difference, or treat it like a handicap. She didn’t know if in his position she would have been so bold.

Inside they found the tables assigned to them and the two moms set out water, pads of paper, pencils and calculators, while Amy took photos of the crowd. Josh joined her. “You getting everything you need?” he asked.

“Yes.” She tucked the small digital camera into her shoulder bag. “Are you nervous?”

“A little. We’re the newbies at this. I want the kids to have fun—and I want them to do well.”

“I don’t know much about science but it sounded in the van as if they know their stuff.”

He shrugged. “It depends on the questions the judges ask.”

“You’re really good with the kids. Your students, I mean.”

“I like them.”

“Did you always want to be a teacher?”

“No. I have a degree in agriculture—you knew that, didn’t you?”

“I think Grandma mentioned something about it.”

“Agricultural science, from UNC. I went back to school after I got home from Iraq and added the courses I needed to get my teaching certificate. I thought I’d be a rancher, like my dad, using modern techniques to make the business more profitable. But my dad wasn’t interested.”

“That must have been rough.”

He shoved his good hand into his pants pocket. “It’s his ranch. He’s not ready for anyone’s help.”

“You could buy your own place.”

“I could. But someone suggested teaching, and I thought I’d give it a try. Turned out I liked it. I like the kids and I like the schedule. Someday I probably will have my own place, and teaching would be a nice fit with a farm or ranch, I think.”

“You’d need good help. Between the greenhouses and orchards, I know Grandma and her helpers work full-time. Maybe ranching’s different.”

“Not that different. You’re right. I’d need help. And the right kind of place. So many of the farms and ranches around here are in families—they don’t come up for sale that often.”

“You never thought of living anyplace but here—in Hartland—did you?”

“When I was younger, sure. But when I was over in Iraq and later, recovering in Germany—all I wanted was to come home.”

She tried to picture him, lying in a hospital bed, dreaming of the open pastures and blue skies of Colorado, and felt an unfamiliar longing of her own. “I’ve never known what that was like,” she said. “I always made wherever I was at the time home. The people I loved made a place home.”

“All the people I love are here. And all the people who love me.”

“All right, everyone!” A tall, slender woman addressed them from a microphone at the front of the auditorium. “Take your places. It’s almost time to begin.”

Josh joined the students at the Hartland High tables. Amy hung back, fussing with her camera as if she was about to take a picture. Really, she wanted time to pull herself together. Josh’s words about home had unsettled her. All the people he loved were in Hartland. All the people she loved were scattered or gone—Brent dead and her parents overseas. That left Chloe and Grandma. She’d take Chloe with her wherever she went, but what about Bobbie?

Amy would miss her grandmother, but they’d spent most of her life apart. They’d stay in touch and Amy would come back to visit. She and Chloe would make new friends and find new people to fill the void, but would that be enough? She couldn’t imagine being like Josh, living in a place where you’d known everyone for years, but for the first time she envied him that sense of belonging in the world. That knowledge that he was surrounded by people who loved him.

She’d always taken comfort in the fact that the people around her didn’t know her that well—that she had secrets they’d never discover, and that they could never truly judge her. But maybe she’d been wrong about that. Maybe the real key to happiness wasn’t in maintaining your independence, but in relishing your place in a community where you mattered.

* * *

A
S
A
TEACHER
with students participating in the science bee, Josh was allowed to observe the kids, but he wasn’t allowed to supply answers or even hints. He had to sit on the sidelines and groan when the Quasars incorrectly identified hydrogen iodide as a salt, or cheer when the Brainstorms successfully defended their contention that the whale shark was the largest fish.

At the break, the kids clustered around him. “You’re doing great,” he told them. The Quasars had collected thirty-two points, putting them in second place, while the Brainstorms were tied for third in their age group.

A flash went off behind him—Amy again, taking photos for her article. She’d been a pleasant surprise today. Unobtrusive, even helpful, pitching in to hand out snacks and laughing with the kids. She’d asked them smart questions about the science bee and her comments had all been positive.

Which didn’t mean he wouldn’t open up the paper next week and read a story about unauthorized use of a school van or discrimination against kids who hadn’t paid the ten dollars to participate in the science bee, he reminded himself. Amy Marshall was not his friend, no matter how much she acted like it.

The second half of the day went quickly. By the end of the tournament at three, the Quasars had taken second place in their division, while the Brainstorms held on to third place in their age group. “You all did great!” Josh pumped his fist. “I’m proud of all of you.”

“We’re going to do even better next year,” Mouse said. “First place here we come!”

They cheered and rehashed the day’s highlights as they piled into the vans, but as the long drive home unwound, they grew more subdued. Some of the kids fell asleep, while others listened to iPods or texted friends back home.

“What are your impressions of the day?” Amy asked. She leaned forward in her seat, notebook in hand.

“It was great for the kids,” he said. “It made science fun, and they got to hang out with students from other schools who share their interests. I hope we’ll do this again next year, with more kids involved and with more school support. Maybe hold an in-school event to generate interest and help our students prep for the regional event.”

“You’re really excited about this.”

“If the teacher isn’t excited, how is he going to get the students interested?” he asked. “What about you. Did you have fun today?”

“I did,” she said. “The kids were great. And I enjoyed seeing you interact with them.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just that it’s a different side of you.”

What side of me is that?
he wanted to ask, but didn’t. Maybe he was afraid of her answer. She’d gone from painting him as someone who’d cheated his way into a job to almost grudgingly admitting he was a good teacher, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to know what else she saw when she looked at him.

When they pulled into the school parking lot a group of parents were waiting. They piled out of the van and were greeted with cheers and hugs from moms and dads. As Josh came around from the driver’s side, he saw Chase stiffen and heard him swear under his breath. He followed the boy’s gaze and saw Gerry Wilson moving toward them, his face flushed, his gate unsteady.

“I need to talk to you,” Gerry said.

But Wilson wasn’t addressing his son. He stabbed a finger at Josh. “You’ve interfered where you don’t belong.”

“Dad, please.”

Wilson ignored his son. “I want a word with you.” He poked at Josh’s chest. Josh could smell the liquor on his breath. His eyes were red, his speech slightly slurred.

“Why don’t we go inside to my office, Mr. Wilson.” Josh tried to take the man’s arm, but Wilson resisted.

“I don’t want to go inside.”

“Dad, just shut up,” Chase said.

The boy looked close to tears. Around them, others were frozen by their cars, staring. Amy took out her phone. “Do you want me to call someone?” she asked.

Josh shook his head. “I’ll handle this. What did you want to talk about, Mr. Wilson?”

“You talked my son into joining the army. He’s my son. You had no right.”

“Chase asked me about my military service, and I answered his questions,” Josh said. “That’s as far as it went.”

“You want him to go over there and get shot up like you?” Wilson’s voice rose. “Is that it? You’re tired of being the only cripple in town?”

“Coach Scofield didn’t have anything to do with my thinking about enlisting.” Chase gripped his father’s shoulder. The boy’s face was white as paper. “You’re drunk. You shouldn’t be here.”

“I’m your father. I have to protect you from people like him.”

“Come on, Dad. You’re embarrassing yourself. You’re embarrassing me.”

“I’m your father—you should respect me.” He took an awkward, clumsy swing at the boy.

Chase ducked, and Josh caught the man’s hand in the air. “That’s enough,” he said. “Are you going to go home quietly, or do I need to call the police?”

Wilson stared at his fist, then at his son, as if suddenly realizing what he’d done. He wilted. “I’ll go,” he mumbled. “Let me go.”

Josh shoved him away. Wilson stumbled back, then righted himself. Chase took his father’s arm. “It’s okay, Coach. I’ll drive him home.” Not waiting for an answer, he led the older man away.

Josh turned back to the van, away from the crowd of staring onlookers. “You handled that well,” Amy said softly.

“When he swung at Chase I wanted to deck him, but the guy was drunk.” He leaned into the van, ostensibly checking for anything the kids might have left behind. No one would bother him if he looked busy.

No one but Amy, though somehow right now her presence didn’t annoy him. He almost welcomed her company. “He probably deserved to be decked,” she said. “But you did the right thing. Not every man would have exercised such self-control.”

“A few years ago, I probably would have let him have it. I guess I used up a lot of my anger lying in a hospital bed in Landstuhl.”

“Brent had a bad temper. Not with me, but he wasn’t very patient with other people’s shortcomings.”

This admission surprised him. He’d wondered what her husband had been like. “Nobody’s perfect,” he said.

“Nobody is.”

He glanced over his shoulder. The parking lot was clearing out, the excitement having died down. “Are you going to write about this for the paper?”