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After spending the last few weeks here, she’d grown to love Henry’s children, and fully intended to do right by them.
Once they were all settled on the run-down couches and chairs, her glance shifted to the four faces watching her with various expressions. She forced her lips into a confident smile. “Listen to what was in the newspaper a few days ago.” She had to keep her voice calm.
“On March 3, 1889, President Harrison announced the government would open the 1.9 million-acre tract of Indian Territory for settlement precisely at noon on April 22. Anyone can join the race for the land.”
She glanced up. Silence greeted her. Not the eagerness she’d hoped for. Her smile faltered.
Rachel, fifteen, in a twenty-year-old’s body, hiked her chin in a stubborn manner. She would be a handful, that one. “I don’t want to move.”
Tori drew in a deep breath. “I realize that, but we have to face the fact that the money your papa left is almost gone, and I haven’t been able to find a job.”
Hunter squirmed. “Not even a teaching job?”
Oh how she’d tried. Even with her credentials and experience, she’d had no success. “No, honey. I’ve been told many times it’s too late in the school year for teaching jobs.”
Rachel rolled her eyes. “Well they sure won’t be hiring teachers this late in the year, in—where did you say—Indian Territory?”
Tori counted to ten to keep from snapping at the girl. “I’m sure I can find tutoring jobs until a proper school can be set up. Then there will be teaching jobs.” Based on the smirk Rachel threw her, counting to twenty might be better. “And, I’m a fair baker. I can sell some of my pies and cookies to keep us going in the beginning.”
“You could do that here.” Ellie, the eleven-year-old who'd been her papa's favorite, wiped the tears from her freckled cheeks, her voice trembling slightly.
Tori’s insides twisted. So easy to feel sorry for the little girl. “No, darling, we won’t have a place to live if we stay here. The letter came from the bank today. We have two weeks to move. I can’t pay the mortgage, and the bank has found a buyer for the house.” She tucked a curl behind the little girl’s ear. “The small amount left from your papa’s savings will be enough to just get us there.”
“Where will we live?” Hunter’s brows came together over deep brown eyes with long lashes, so like the mother Tori knew only from pictures. A year older than Ellie, he kept to himself, spending a great deal of time writing in his journal. The child remained a mystery to her.
Tori leaned down and used her soothing teacher voice. “We’ll live in a tent on the land we claim. Then, after a while, we’ll build a real house.”
A mutiny appeared on the horizon. How could a twenty-two-year-old teacher convince four children she barely knew to leave the only home they’d ever known? Another deep breath, and she forged on. She didn’t have a choice.
“Think about it, we’ll all be in on something brand new. Something exciting, that will go down in the history books.”
Why must I turn everything into a lesson?
Rachel stood, hand on hip. “Can I go now?”
“When would we have to leave?” Almost a man at sixteen, Michael spoke slowly, a slight smile on his lips. His budding interest gave her some hope.
“As soon as possible. We can outfit your papa’s wagon, and pick up some supplies to get us through. We’ll need to go to Arkansas City, one of the starting points.”
Her gaze roamed the room. Be careful here. Her next words were dangerous territory.
“We can sell most of this stuff. The money will help, and it’s less to haul.”
Red faced, her eyes spitting fire, Rachel rounded on her. “You cannot sell my mother’s things.”
“You and Ellie can take two or three of your mother’s things, and Michael and Hunter,” she said, turning to them, “can take two or three things of your father’s. But I’m afraid there isn’t enough room to take everything.”
“Well, I suppose if it’s the only way, then we have to do it.” Michael, always the logical one, surveyed his brother and sisters. Hunter and Ellie nodded, while Rachel stomped from the room, up the stairs, then slammed her bedroom door.
Ignoring the queasiness in her stomach, Tori faced the remaining children. “Think how much fun this will be!”
Tori kicked the broken wagon wheel, sweat running down her face. “Dammit!” She glared at the wagon and flung her hands on her hips. Whatever made her think she could do this? The old wagon had barely gotten them here, and now she faced a split wheel. The rotted wooden spokes were practically crumbling before her eyes.
Michael studied her. “I’ll take the wheel over to the blacksmith to see if he can fix it.”
“I told you this whole idea was stupid.” Rachel scowled over her shoulder while she pulled out wet, sodden clothing from the tilted wagon.
Michael wiped his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt. “Rachel, cut it out, Tori needs our help.”
