Carol Ritten Smith Read Online Free PDF Page B

that bad of a mood, I’m not going near her.”
    Tom nodded. Freddie must have pushed the young teacher far beyond her limit for her to have administered the strap. Because he suggested the punishment, he felt obliged to see if she needed any bolstering. “I think you’d better head home. I’ll check on your sister. She might be upset.”
    When he arrived at the school he decided that “distraught” would have been a better word. A big lump of compassion stuck in his throat. If he had known she was going to take it this badly, he never would have suggested the strap. Hell, as a school trustee, he probably could have booted Freddie out of the classroom or strapped him himself for that matter. He wished now he had.
    He placed his hand on her shoulder and she lifted her head at the gentle pressure.
    Beth turned in her chair, presenting her back to him. “If you came to gloat, just go away and leave me alone.”
    “Davy told me what happened and I just came to see if you are okay.” Tom stepped around in front of her and squatted on his haunches. “Don’t beat yourself up over this. Freddie got what he deserved.”
    “Why did you have to bring that stupid strap over anyhow? I was doing just fine without it.” It was obvious to both of them she wasn’t. “Freddie just kept pushing and pushing — ” She covered her face with her hands and resumed sobbing.
    In all the time Tom had been courting Abigail Craig, he’d never seen her cry like that. A tear maybe, but nothing near as heart wrenching as Beth’s anguish. “Now, now,” he said awkwardly, “no more crying. You did what you had to do.”
    She nodded and managed to get her sobbing under control. She looked at him, her eyes red. When a single tear rolled down her cheek and sat at the edge of her pretty little mouth, Tom wondered if she would lick it. Shocked by his untimely and inappropriate thought, he stood and took a step back. “You know, if you’re going to be a teacher, you better toughen up.” His words came out more harshly than he’d intended.
    But at least they got a rise out of her. “What do you mean, if?” She stood nose to chest and glared up at him. “I am a teacher, a good teacher!” She fished a hankie from her pocket and blew her nose loudly. “You have no right to criticize. And one spoiled brat isn’t going to stop me, thank you very much!” Slamming her books closed, she gathered an armful and headed out the school, her head held high and skirts swaying confidently.
    That a girl! Tom nodded his head. He closed up the school behind him.
    • • •
    At six o’clock, Tom locked up the smithy for the day and headed to Abigail’s. Ahead Tom saw Miranda Parsons coming his direction, her mother following closely. Tom cursed silently. He could come up with a number of unflattering descriptions for Miranda, but the kindest — though not the most accurate or colorful — was “hussy.” Rumor had it that she kept a list of all the men she had bedded and the list was growing faster than fleas multiplying on a mutt. It was beyond him why any man would be the slightest bit interested in her. Catching her affection was no more challenging than stirring up an anthill and seeing if any ants climbed the stick.
    Acting nonchalant, Tom strolled toward mother and daughter, intent upon walking straight past them with only a nod of his head. Not surprisingly, Miranda grabbed his shirtsleeve.
    “Oh hello, Tom,” she gushed. “What a surprise.”
    Tom politely tipped his hat. “Mrs. Parsons, Miss Miranda.”
    “Momma and I thought we’d go for a walk down by the creek. It’s such a lovely day. Would you care to join us?”
    Mrs. Parsons scowled at her daughter.
    “Sorry,” Tom said, “I have other commitments.”
    Miranda pursed her lips into a practiced pout. “What a shame. Maybe some other time then?”
    Tom made no reply. He tipped his hat again, then stepped aside to allow them to pass.
    As they continued on, Tom could hear Mrs.