He dipped his head. “That is how it was meant. And my name is Mitchell, but you may call me Mitch.”
“Mitch suits you.”
“Ah. Our respective progenitors will be pleased.”
“What?”
He waved in her direction. “Sorry. A word I read once. It means parents.”
“No, I know that. I’m just surprised to hear you say it.”
His eyes snapped. “I’m sure you are.” He collected the check from the table and stood. “Are you ready to return to work?”
She stared at him as he pulled out her chair. Mitch Beaumont was a puzzle. However, not a puzzle she was interested in solving. She had a job to do and that came first.
This time as they walked back to the schoolhouse, there was an air of tension between them. Perhaps she had insulted him at her surprise at his use of the word progenitor. She really must stop assuming things if she was to be a success in Dogtown.
“What I intended to ask you back at the restaurant is if you would like to accompany me to the church social this Sunday afternoon. It would give the parents a chance to ask you more questions. Lunch follows the morning service, and it’s the time of the year the good Reverend Thatcher will be doing his usual begging for volunteers for the Christmas pageant.”
“Oh, I would like that! My family was very involved in our church, and I had intended to ask about services. And to be involved in the pageant would be such fun.”
“If you’re still here, that is.”
Her temper flared. “I will be here. You don’t seem to understand, Mr. Beaumont. I am here to stay and you better get used to the idea.” She muttered under her breath, “Je vais vous prouver le contraire.”
They stopped in front of the schoolhouse. “I’m afraid I will have to leave you to our own devices this afternoon. I can trust Ernest to run my store for a short period of time, but by now he’s probably caused some type of disaster that will need fixing.”
She nodded, still annoyed at his continued distrust. Nothing in her life had prepared her to deal with such suspicion. “Thank you for your help. I’m very excited at the idea of setting up my own classroom and preparing for the children to arrive Monday morning.”
“Haven’t you done this before?” he asked.
“No.” She gave him a smug look. “This is my first teaching assignment.” She waved and hurried into the schoolhouse, leaving Mitch with his mouth hanging open.
Mitch sat at the supper table, still smarting from his exchange with Priscilla. Despite what she’d mumbled in French, she would not prove him wrong. He would prove her wrong in the end. He was sure of that. The winters in Oklahoma were nothing like the winters in the Rockies. Once she got snowed in for three or four days, he would bet she’d be packing those trunks and heading out on the next mail coach. A French-speaking, high-class city girl would never last in Dogtown.
Ian helped himself to a serving of fry bread and dipped it into his bowl of stew. “Pa, don’t you think Miss Cochran is pretty?”
Mitch stabbed a piece of meat with his fork. Did the woman have to invade his home, too? He shrugged. “She’s all right.”
“Nah. She’s pretty. I’m glad she’s our new teacher.”
Mitch had spent too much time thinking about the new teacher, and how pretty she was. He didn’t want to notice her looks or even think about her. “I just hope she stays long enough to keep the school opened at least until Christmas.”
“Why do you think she won’t stay?”
He looked into the very young and trusting eyes of his son. “Come on, Ian. She’s young. She’s pretty. She comes from an important family. She’s college educated. She’s…” He couldn’t help but think the words he spoke were for his benefit, not his son’s.
Ian shrugged. “I like her.”
“I didn’t say I don’t like her. She seems to be a nice person. I just have my doubts that she’ll last the winter.”
Ian popped the last of his fry bread into his mouth. “I forgot to tell you, Miss Cochran wants me to come to school tomorrow.”
“Why?”
“She’s testing all the students before school starts on Monday. My time is tomorrow at ten o’clock.”