Fresh Start for Love

By Claire Sanders

A woman, left at the altar, yearns to leave humilation behind her.  She accepts a new job and travels far from home for a fresh start.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Claire Sanders
• Release date: Jun 9, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393560302

Book preview

Dedication

To my parents, Harry and Edith, who modeled their love

for reading every day.

Chapter One

How long does it take a woman and a dog to travel from Texas to Montana? For Sara Robbins, it took thirty-five years. At least, that’s how long it took her to grow a backbone and leave home. She’d still be there if her groom had shown up for the wedding.

Left at the altar. Sara cringed every time someone dared speak those words. It was the final insult in a life filled with not-so-gentle put downs. Sighing for the thousandth time, Sara fixed her eyes on the road and stroked the large black mongrel dog stretched on the seat beside her.

What do you think about all of this, Hobo?

The dog lifted his head and looked attentively at her.

It’s going to be different.  New people, new place.  Think you’ll like it?

The dog rose to its feet and licked Sara’s ear.  Okay, okay, she said with a laugh.  I’ll drive, you navigate, and we’ll eventually get there.  She scratched the dog’s ears and he curled into the seat.

The highways seemed endless, but she drove on, traveling north to a new job in a

strange place. Another pitying look from well-meaning friends and family was the last thing she needed. After the anguish of pacing the church foyer, her pearl-studded gown billowing

around her like a lace curtain on a windy day, waiting and praying for Robert to burst through the doors with some plausible story, she had to get away.

After three days on the road and three nights in pet-friendly motels, she finally reached Billings and called her contact person, Edna Spears.

How was your trip? Edna asked, her voice warm and welcoming.

Long.

Yes, ma’am, Edna chuckled. I imagine it was. Now, I’m going to give you directions to my house, and I’ll be looking for you sometime tomorrow morning.

According to Mrs. Spears, the drive from Billings to Winter Lodge would take an hour. But when Sara arrived at the site, unquestionably marked by a highway sign announcing the population to be four hundred twenty-two, it seemed she’d taken a much longer trip. Somehow, she’d traveled back in time.

The tallest building in Winter Lodge was the hardware store—a two-story structure with faded wood siding. Huddled next to it, a small grocery store with a tattered sign featured a single gasoline pump. Across the highway, the feed and supply store spread across the flat land. The last two buildings were a large metal building called The Grange Hall and a small white chapel, just like the ones Sara had seen in every B Western movie her older brother had forced her to watch—white siding, narrow, arched windows, and a steeple pointing straight up to heaven. In her mind, Sara heard the voice of some old geezer saying, There’s a new school marm in town.

Five buildings in the entire town. Five.

She’d wanted a new job in a place where no one knew her, but she’d never imagined Montana ranch country would be so desolate.

She pulled Edna’s directions from beneath Hobo’s snoring body.  The dog stretched, yawned, and rose to a sitting position.  As he viewed and sniffed the new landscape, Sara turned left at the grocery. A smattering of small brick and frame houses, their well-kept lawns and flowerbeds adding charm to what would have otherwise been drab uniformity, bordered a narrow blacktop road.

Edna Spears’s house was easy to find, for just as she’d said, a cement dinosaur guarded her yard. As soon as Sara pulled into the driveway, a short, wiry gray-haired woman scurried out of the house. Sara? It must be you. Those Texas license plates gave you away.

Before Sara could reply, her normally placid dog barked as if he’d seen two raccoons dancing with a possum. She rolled down the car windows, got out, but forced Hobo to stay inside.

Mrs. Spears caught Sara’s arm and nodded toward the dog. Let him out so he can run around and explore.

Before she could grab Hobo’s leash, the dog bounded out of the SUV and skidded to a stop in front of Mrs. Spears. Plopping down on his haunches, he lifted one paw as if offering a handshake. Edna laughed and removed his leash. Go on, now. Go explore. I’ll get you some fresh water.

Sara watched the dog enjoy his freedom. He’s never done that trick before, Mrs. Spears.

You call me Edna, the older lady said, handing the leash to Sara. Hobo’s tired of being cooped up.

How did you know his name was Hobo? 

He told me, Edna said matter-of-factly.

Sara wondered if she had not only driven into the past century, but also traveled into another dimension where people could talk to dogs.

Sara followed Edna into a tidy kitchen where the older woman filled a plastic bucket with water and set it outside for the dog. No problems on the road? Edna asked.

Not a one. Pretty country up here.

God’s chosen spot. Now, I have your contract all ready to sign. Once that’s taken care of, I’ll take you out to see the school and help you get settled. Edna smiled and offered Sara a pen.

But Sara knew better. I’d like to see the school and my living quarters before I sign anything.

Oh. Edna‘s eyes narrowed, and her mouth formed a straight line. We stopped looking for someone else to fill the position once you said you’d take the job.

Was Edna trying to bully her? Edna had obviously never met Sara’s mother. I intend to honor my word, Edna. But I want to make sure you’re holding up your end of the deal before I sign anything. It took me a long time to make it up here, but that doesn’t mean I can’t drive back.

Edna had no answer, but her eyes bore a hole straight through Sara’s skull. Did Edna have superpowers other than talking to animals? Could she read Sara’s mind? Sara raised her eyebrows in question.

Edna smiled and pushed back from the table. Fair enough. Leave your dog in the back yard, and I’ll take you out to the school house.

***

Edna drove her aged Ford pickup as though she were trying to qualify for a NASCAR rally. More than once, Sara curled her fingertips into the edge of the dashboard to keep from sliding into the driver.

You’re not what I expected, Edna said.

How’s that?

Oh, I don’t know. I guess I expected someone older and less attractive.

Teachers came in all shapes and sizes. Edna’s comment made no sense. Why do you say that?

The other teachers we had weren’t very pretty. They were the kind of girls my husband used to call ‘born old maids’.

Sara’s stomach clenched at Edna’s comment. She was past thirty. All of her college friends were married and producing babies. Plus, her only chance at marriage had left her at the altar. If being an old maid was a requirement for teaching at the Winter Lodge school, maybe Sara was more qualified than Edna thought.

But I can tell you’ll be perfect for this job, Edna continued.

Because I’m not old?

No, because of your dog. The way I see it, if you can love a dog that’s ugly on the outside but sweet and loyal on the inside, then you’ve got the kind of heart our teacher will need.

The drive was turning out to be the strangest job interview Sara had ever had. Tell me about the school.

It was built on my family’s ranch in 1879, Edna explained. It started as a simple square fieldstone building capped by a tin roof. But over the years, electricity, plumbing, and central heating have been added.

Edna took a curve too fast. Sara clenched her teeth as the tires squealed. Why didn’t the other teachers work out?

After I retired from teaching, we hired a series of new teachers from one of the colleges in Billings. Every one of those young girls came with a head full of dreams, intent on changing the world with their lofty ideals and dedication. And every one of them left after a few months. Their original promises to serve and care for our children dissolved into whiny complaints about loneliness and unexpected hardships. Every time I watched one of them leave, my disappointment deepened until I was ready to give up.

But you didn’t give up.

No, but I almost did. Finally, I got the idea to advertise the position in a national teacher’s magazine. I thought if I could widen the search, we’d have a better chance of finding someone who matched our needs.

How far is it to the school from town? 

About twenty minutes in good weather. Might take longer in the snow.

Are my living quarters in town?

No, they’ll be attached to the school building itself.

A rivulet of alarm darted through Sara. "They will be? Aren’t they ready now?"

Edna bit her lip. No, not quite. But they will be in about two weeks.

Where do I stay until then?

"My nephew and niece run our family’s ranch. My niece married one of the Wainwright boys, and they have two children of their own. That’s five people living in a house that could hold twelve and still have room for the chickens on a cold night. You’ll be staying there until

Daniel can finish your apartment."

Daniel?

Edna slowed the car just enough to turn onto a narrow blacktop road, then lurched forward as she gunned the motor again. My nephew, she explained, Daniel McKenzie.

Sharing a house with strangers was not what Sara had envisioned, but she was determined to not give up.

Edna braked hard, throwing Sara toward the dashboard. A deer loped across the road and then, without comment, Edna shifted gears and the truck roared to life. She swung the truck into a gravel drive, stopped hard, and killed the engine.

Sara said a little prayer to whatever saint protected reckless drivers and their passengers and slid out on wobbly knees.

Welcome to the McKenzie Ranch, Edna said as she rounded the truck.

Sara stared up at the enormous log house. A cloudless sky reflected from the panes of transom windows along the front of the house. Windows left uncovered so the surrounding landscape would never be hidden from view. The house bespoke a sturdy elegance, as though the mountains and prairies of Montana had created it.

My niece ought to be around here somewhere. Edna stepped onto the wide porch that bracketed the house.

The McKenzie land appeared to sit in a great bowl of grass rimmed by dark hills. As Sara’s gaze traveled upward, toward the horizon, she realized the distant white clouds were actually snow-capped mountains. The rusty-hinge call of a meadowlark sounded nearby and the clean smell of moist earth surrounded her. A real Montana ranch. If this was a dream, she didn’t want to be pinched.

A woman’s scream pierced the tranquility. Matthew! You come back here right this minute!

A young boy wearing a battered cowboy hat, boots, and nothing else barreled toward Edna.

Maaaaaathewwww!

Edna tried to block the boy’s path, but he darted around her like a fish in a stream. He ran around to Sara’s side of the truck just as a young woman rounded the corner of the house. She bent over, hands on the knees of her wet jeans, and tried to catch her breath. Have you seen Matthew? 

Sara cocked an eye at the child hiding beside her. Is he a tall, strong cowboy wearing a straw hat and not much else?

The woman grinned, showing two identical dimples alongside her mouth. That sounds like my son.

Nope. Haven’t seen him.

Matthew giggled from his ineffectual hiding place, and Sara continued. Of course, a cowboy can be hard to catch. Especially if he’s on the run. Would you know why this particular cowboy is trying to escape?

A bath, the boy’s mother answered. That little cowboy got so dirty I wouldn’t let him in the house until he’d cleaned up a bit. But he objected to the water hose.

Well, if I see anyone fitting his description, I’ll let you know. Sara winked at Matthew who squealed with laughter.

What’s that? the boy’s mother said. Sounds like a coyote.

No, no, Edna answered. That’s a mountain lion.

It’s me! Matthew shouted as he ran from his hiding place and tackled his mother.

She chuckled and picked up her naked son. Inside, mister. No naked cowboys allowed on this ranch.

Matthew threw his arms around his mother’s neck and his legs around her waist. No naked cowboys, he repeated.

Edna laughed with them. That’s my niece, Audrey, and the naked cowboy is her four-year-old. She also has a little girl named Rebecca. Come on, I’ll show you the school while she wrestles Matthew into some clothes.

From the main house, Sara could see a small stone building about a hundred yards along a well-worn dirt path. Is that the school?

That’s it, Edna answered, leading the way toward the structure. We haven’t had a chance to clean it up yet, but I’ll give you a hand.

Sara followed Edna up three wooden steps and waited for her to push the door open. Like I told you, no one’s used this place for a while.

Edna was warning Sara of whatever lay behind the door. When she pushed it open, Sara understood why. Tables and chairs were scattered around the space and mismatched bookshelves bowed under the weight of books and paper. The sun streamed through wide, dirty windows, highlighting the dust floating in the stale air. A quick glance around the clutter made it clear why no one had volunteered to tackle it. It would take days to sort through the clutter and clean the room. When does school start?

Whenever you say, Edna answered. Since we’re a private school, we have some freedom about what we do and when we do it.

Are you the principal?

No, not really. There’s a group of us who oversee the school, the hiring and so forth, but what you teach and how you teach it are completely up to you.

If I have a question, whom do I ask?

Me first. If I don’t know the answer, I’ll hunt up somebody who does.

How many students will there be?

Fourteen, give or take a couple. The school hasn’t been open for the last three years, and I’ve been waiting for you to get here before I contacted the families with children under the age of twelve.

What have they been doing for the last three years?

Home schooling, mostly. See, the nearest public school is in Billings, and most of the mothers around here don’t want their young children riding a school bus two hours every day. The older kids can look out for themselves, but the little ones are still mighty tender.

Isn’t it kind of expensive for the families around here to support a private school?

You’re the only expense we have, Edna answered. Plus, it’s not just the parents who pay, the whole community donates. We want what’s best for our kids, and most of the parents around here believe home schooling is a poor second choice. Better to have the kids know each other and get a real education.

There was so much to do. I’d like to meet the students and their families before classes begin. I’ll need at least a week to get this place in shape. How about I start classes on Monday, the week after next?

Edna’s eyes shone like sparklers on the Fourth of July. Sounds like you’re planning on staying. I’ve got that contract in the truck.

Chapter Two

It was almost midnight by the time Daniel McKenzie got home. Spring and summer were his busiest times—caring for new calves, driving the herd from the southern pastures back up into the hills where the tender spring grass waited, tagging and vaccinating, feeding, and caring for the horses. The work was nonstop, but, if Daniel were ever forced to leave, he would shrivel up and float away like dust on a dry windy day.

He frowned at the strange car parked in front of the house and squinted at the dog guarding the door. With legs a bit too short for his long body and fur that couldn’t decide which way it wanted to grow, the dog would be a prime candidate for least wanted mutt. Daniel was accustomed to both unexpected drop-ins and relatives passing through, but a car with Texas license plates stood out like a piebald yearling in a herd of thoroughbreds. Who would come all the way from Texas? And bring an ugly dog with them?

Daniel crept into the darkened kitchen, doing his best to not wake up the sleeping household. His sister usually left supper for him, so he went to the refrigerator to hunt it up. The plate had a note on top of it. The new schoolteacher has arrived, Audrey had written. When will her apartment be finished?

Crumpling the note, Daniel threw it into the trash and shoved the plate into the microwave. Who does that school teacher think she is to come in here and start ordering us around? Finishing that apartment is the last thing I need.

Still fuming, he turned around and saw the new teacher standing at the foot of the back

stairs. She was barefoot and dressed in a white nightgown, looking for all the world like some sleepy angel. But the angelic image was spoiled a bit by the look she leveled at him, the look all teachers seem to master, the one that says, You’ve crossed the line, buddy.

Daniel straightened his stance and waited. Too bad she’d overheard his complaint, but no way would he back down. The two glowered at each other. Daniel finally spoke. Good evening.

The new teacher crossed her arms in front of her chest and nodded. Good evening. I’m the school teacher. Most people call me Sara.

She wasn’t smiling, not even a little grin. I’m Daniel McKenzie.

Nice to meet you. She crossed in front of Daniel and got a glass from the cabinet. Then she turned towards the refrigerator. I’d like to get some ice. Daniel stepped out of her way. She filled the glass with tap water and turned to face him. Is there a problem with my apartment?

Mentioning the apartment pulled him right back to his foul mood. "You could say that. Tom and I told Edna we’d take care of it, but we didn’t for two reasons. First, because we didn’t believe anyone would really want to live there, and second, because we’ve got a ranch to

run."

Where did the other teachers stay?

Here, in this house. But I guess that’s not good enough for you.

She took a drink of water. Edna told me—

That’s another thing. Did Aunt Edna actually think I’d put off the ranch work just so I could finish the apartment for somebody who probably won’t stay past the first snowfall? The first time you see a snowdrift higher than your head or have to dig a tunnel through the snow to get from the front door to your car, you’ll probably start whining like a lost tourist.

You seem to have your mind made up. She kept her voice calm which riled Daniel more. Sounded like an adult talking to a cantankerous child. He shook his head in disgust. You don’t understand. My aunt loves that school, and if you think there’s a chance you won’t be staying, then say so now. Don’t break her heart.

I understand, but—

"Edna must have been desperate to hire someone