Carla Kelly (4 page)

“I'm the only one,” he told her. “I work for the Pleasant Valley Coal Company.” His expression turned wry. “And probably will for a few more years until my loans have been whittled down. Doctor Bascom works in Scofield, so there are two of us.”

“Is there a hospital?” she asked, interested.

“There is. It's right at the mouth of Winter Quarters Canyon.”

“How many children do you have in the school?”

“I worked my way through medical school and couldn't find a wealthy woman to support me,” he joked. “No wife, no children. Bishop Parmley wanted me on the school board because I do twice yearly health visits to the school.”

“Parmley. Parmley. Uncle Jesse mentioned him,” she said.

“He's the Winter Quarters mine superintendent
and
the bishop. Are you … ? Do you go to … ?”

“Yes, I'm a Mormon,” she told him, recognizing all the hints.

“Same here. My parents joined the church in Scandinavia and met in a handcart company.”

Uncle Jesse is proving his case
, she thought.
I doubt the good doctor's first language was English
. “What about I. W. Bowman, the upper grades teacher?” she asked. “I took this job on such a whim and know so little about Winter Quarters.”

“Israel? You'll like him. He's from Ohio and one of the few bona fide Yankee Doodles in the camp. I suspect he has a sweetheart in Provo. He spends all available weekends there, at any rate.” The doctor interpreted her expression correctly. “Miss Anders, everyone knows everyone's business, so if you have any deep, dark secrets …”

“… I'll never reveal that I'm Russian nobility, coming to teach miners’ children to make good a bet,” she finished.

He smiled at that. “I'd have thought Helen of Troy, or maybe the Winged Victory of Samothrace.”

“This face hasn't launched even one ship yet,” she said, pleased that he knew his mythology. “My mother was Greek, though.” She thought of the times Aunt Caroline ordered her never to mention her mother or her father, and she felt a certain comfort in telling this inquisitive man even as little as that.

“In Winter Quarters, we all come from somewhere else,” Dr. Isgreen replied. “That's the nature of mining camps.”

She nodded, remembering the Molly Bee and Pa's determination to make his fortune in silver. Poor Pa—the only silver he ever ended up with was his silver-finished coffin plate.

“You will like this about the school—two years ago the school district replaced the log building with a frame one. It has one story so far, and a gymnasium in the basement. Your classroom will be on the main floor. You'll probably have at least thirty students.”

“So many?”

He shrugged. “Lots of Mormons. Lots of children.” He looked at her closely, trained by his profession to observe, or maybe inclined that way. “Miss Anders, your task will be a little easier, because I think all your boys will be in love with you.”

“Dr. Isgreen,” she murmured.

“It's just an observation,” he said, then retreated behind his newspaper. “
Min nåds Gud
, it says here that there has been considerable hurricane damage in Porto Rico. Miss Anders, I am subtly changing the subject.”

Della had to laugh. Aunt Caroline would have been scandalized by Dr. Isgreen, but Aunt Caroline wasn't there. She glanced down at the paper Uncle Jesse had given her.
Rules for Teachers, 1900
, she read silently.
Rule No. 1. You will not marry during the term of your contract
.

Her amusement increased as she scanned the document. Hard on the heels of Rule Number One was Rule Number Two:
You are not to keep company with men
.

“Oh, dear,” she said out loud, looking at Rules Ten and Eleven:
You must wear at least two petticoats
and
Your dress must not be any shorter than two inches above the ankle
.

The newspaper rustled. “You know I have to ask. Your ‘oh, dear’ compels me.”

She handed him the Rules for Teachers, and he scanned it, his smile widening with each entry. He handed it back to her. “You can't loiter downtown in ice cream stores because we have none in either Scofield or Winter Quarters.”

“What a relief,” she murmured. “And all the other felonies?”

He gave her a measuring look. “Might not be a bad idea to commit this list to memory,” he suggested at last. “I haven't mentioned our principal, Miss Clayson. She's also the seventh and eighth grade teacher. Excellent educator, but a bit of a gorgon.”

She took back the sheet. “I can already assure Miss Clayson that I don't smoke cigarettes and will never dye my hair.”

“Good! Can you do something about your curls? I doubt Miss Clayson will approve.”

“I'll try, I'll try,” she joked. “Does she have a first name?”

“I rather doubt it,” he told her. He elaborately shook out his newspaper again. “I'll behave myself now, Miss Anders,” he said.

They stopped briefly in Thistle to take on travelers. The climb continued, the grade steep enough to make Della look anywhere but out the window. Staring at the swaying lamps in the car did nothing to calm her because even they seemed to be struggling.

“You'll get used to it,” the physician said, correctly interpreting her gaze. “I tease Israel about going home to Provo so often. Takes a man in love to willingly ride the train through Spanish Fork Canyon as often as he does!”

She couldn't help but draw in her breath when the slowly moving train edged off the main track and onto a siding. Only seconds later a train loaded with coal raced by on the downward slope.

“You'll get used to that too,” Dr. Isgreen said. “At least two trains a day leave the tipple and head north. Mining's a little slow right now, but with winter coming, it'll pick up.”

“What do the men do when they don't mine?” she asked. The coal train rumbling by made talking difficult, but she was so nervous she had to distract herself. “It must be hard to make ends meet. My goodness, that coal train
does
make this train shake.”

“Some of them work for the farmers in the valley. Nearly every miner ends up owing more to the company store, though, and it's hard to pay it back.” He gave her another professional appraisal. “Breathe in and out, Miss Anders! I don't think the D&RGW has ever lost a passenger in a coal train draft.”

“That's a load off my mind,” Della said, relieved when the coal train shot by and the passenger train quit rocking. “So everyone stays in debt to the company store? That's harsh.”

“That's mining.”

They left the train at Colton, a small town built on a slant with hotels and saloons. Although the day was warm, they were so high in altitude that the breeze was cooler than she would have reckoned. She looked around the high valley, wondering how bitter it would get when the winter winds roared.

Dr. Isgreen went into the Western Union office while Della waited by her luggage, wondering what came next.

“I just sent a telegram to Israel Bowman,” he said when he came out. “He'll meet you in Scofield and see that you get to Winter Quarters.

“Thanks for doing that,” she said, still not used to anyone's solicitude.

“We're glad to have a teacher.”

Della watched while Dr. Isgreen had her trunk removed from the baggage car, corralling two blond, impossibly handsome men to wrangle it. The men spoke a language that she did not know, and she looked at the physician, a question in her eyes.

“It's Finnish,” he said. “Some of them mine at Clear Creek, but the rest are at Winter Quarters. A big family of Luomas. I think ten of them work in Number Four and Number One.”

“
This
is the promised land?” she asked, only half serious.

“Yes, if you're used to hard work and don't mind the cold. Heikki and Juho here tell me they've done so well that they're sending for their parents next spring.” He took her worn out carpetbag over her objections. “Bit by bit, Miss Anders. That's how most people make it in this world.” His eyes were merry. “Maybe even the exalted Anderses had to struggle once.”

“They did,” she said, thinking of her father, even though the memory of him coming home so dirty and tired from the Molly Bee was starting to fade. She looked at the Luoma men with respect, understanding them perfectly.

She stood on the platform, hesitating.

The physician seemed to understand. “I'm on the school board, and I forbid second thoughts. All aboard, Miss Anders?”

They arrived in Scofield an hour later, topping out at nearly eight thousand feet, according to the doctor, who seemed to have a wealth of facts at hand. “They've been mining coal here for twenty-five years,” he told her as the train entered an enormous valley with a stream flowing through it, rimmed by even taller mountains.

She looked with interest to see haying machines in the meadow and in the distance a town. The meadow was broad and tawny in late August.

“See that little gap to the south of the town? That's Winter Quarters Canyon. I'll warn you: it's not pretty there until you hike up the canyon and get away from the mines, machinery, and buildings.”

I know
, she thought, remembering the Molly Bee, even higher than this in the Sangre de Cristos Mountains.
Mines are ugly
. “I don't mind.”

She hadn't meant to sound wistful, but she must have, because he looked at her thoughtfully then.

“I … I've seen mines before,” she said, unwilling to say more, surprised at the flood of feeling that washed over her. She was usually better at training her thoughts; maybe it was the altitude.

“I suppose the Anderses own mines, don't they? I know Mr. Knight does. Lots of them.”

“My Uncle Karl has some shares in them, I believe,” she said. “He's a railroad lawyer.”

“You're too modest. He's
the
railroad lawyer,” Dr. Isgreen said. “We all read about the verdict in Union Pacific versus Duncan.” He whistled. “Impressive.”

“Yes. Malcolm Duncan and his syndicate had no idea they were sending my aunt and cousins on a three-month trip to Europe this fall!”

“Nice of Duncan.”

With a hiss and grind, the train stopped, then seemed to wheeze and pant, worn out with the altitude. Della let Dr. Isgreen hand her down to the depot platform. She took a deep breath, breathing in the fragrance of newly mown hay. Only four hours away and four thousand feet lower, it was a hot August afternoon. She couldn't fail to notice the slight chill of autumn.

The same two Finnish miners took her trunk from the baggage car and brought it to her, smiling.

“I have to tell you, Miss Anders: Israel Bowman and Bishop Parmley did some speculating as to why you're here in the first place. Not everyone would turn down a Grand Tour through Europe for Winter Quarters,” the doctor said.

Not everyone was invited on that trip
, she thought. She was spared the necessity of reply when a man not much older than her, hat in hand, came toward her. He held out his hand.

“Miss Anders? I'm Israel Bowman, grades four through six. Pleased to meet you.”

She shook his hand, pleased with the firm grip and the welcome on his face.

“I wasn't relishing the idea of adding grades one through three to my classroom. You're a welcome sight. Emil, thanks for keeping her from bolting when she saw that grade up to Scofield and the way the rail seems to sort of lean out over the canyon.”

“Surely no one …” she started.

The men looked at each other and laughed. “You'd be amazed how quickly some teachers have arrived here and turned right around,” Israel said. “Miss Anders, I hate to be the bearer of bad tidings, but you know that little house we promised you?”

“I am looking forward to it.”

“It burned down two nights ago.”

ell, dirty bird,” Della said. “What happened?”