Donovan's Daughter (The Californians, Book 4) Read Online Free PDF Page A

return.
    She proceeded to tell the class a little bit about herself
before asking each student to stand and introduce himself again. From that point forward, the day flew. Marcail
could hardly believe her eyes when the big clock on the
wall read 3:00.
    A few parents came in wagons to claim their children,
and two students had horses they had stabled for the day
in the small barn out back. Most walked, however, and
Marcail stood at the door until they were far from view.
She stepped back into the room and stood smiling at the
little signs that clearly showed children had been there:
a crooked chair, marks on the board, the globe on the
floor.
    "Thank You, Lord." She whispered the words. "Thank
You for a wonderful day."

    Marcail had been teaching school for ten days with no
sign of Sydney Duckworth. It wasn't hard to figure out
that Mrs. Duckworth had decided against sending him.
Even though Marcail would like to have met him, she
had other things on her mind, specifically, the lunchbox
social scheduled for the next day.
    When Marcail got up on Saturday morning she had
already planned what she would put into her basket to
be auctioned. The proceeds went to the school, and
Marcail was determined that everything be perfect.
    She found a small-handled basket in the cupboard, and after lining it with a yellow linen hand towel, she
began to fill it with the lunch she had prepared. All the
women of the town, married or single, were encouraged
to attend and bring their baskets. The auction would
start promptly at 10:30, so all baskets could be auctioned
off in time for a noontime picnic for the entire town.

    Marcail used a little piece of string and paper to label
her basket. She held the paper for just a moment and
stared at the name. Miss Donovan. She felt a little thrill
each and every time she wrote it.
    Not certain where the auction was to be held, Marcail
left the house a little early. She should have known not to
worry since the noise from people gathering in the town
square could be heard from 300 yards away. From a
distance it sounded as if all 296 of Willits' residents were
in attendance.
    Marcail greeted the families she knew as she made her
way to the blanket Mrs. Warren had laid out for her
family. Allie was the only one seated, and Marcail joined
her.
    "Hi, Marcail. Is your basket all set?"
    "I think so. What's in yours?"
    The girls traded baskets, and then exchanged compliments and conversation until a good-looking, darkhaired man walked by. Marcail's gaze followed him as he
passed.
    "Handsome, isn't he?" Allie sounded almost smug.
    Marcail laughed over being caught looking. "Yes, he
is," she said with an unrepentant grin. "Why haven't I
seen him before?"
    "Oh, he keeps to himself. Some say he's still mourning his wife. But she's been gone for over four years."
    "What's his name?"
    "Dr. Alexander Montgomery," Allie answered and
chattered on, but Marcail caught little of it. Her mind was conjuring up a man bending from the saddle to relieve
her of her basket, his manner solicitous, his voice kind.
But a cold feeling had swept down her spine on hearing
the word "doctor." His good looks and the previous
kindness he'd shown her were overshadowed by his
title. Marcail knew that if they met and talked she would
be cordial, but past experience told her she would never
be completely at ease in his presence.

    More thoughts on Willits' doctor were cut short when
the auction began. The women carried their baskets and
hampers forward and joined the crowd around the
stand.
    Mr. Flynn from the bank was the auctioneer, and the
first basket belonged to Mrs. Warren. It was customary
for the woman whose basket was on the table to step
forward to the platform during the bidding. Mr. Warren
knew his job and bought his wife's basket. It went for a
good price and that seemed to get the ball rolling. Baskets and coins were exchanged amid a backdrop of
laughter and great fun.
    Marcail's