Maud opened her mouth, and then shut it.
“We were amusing ourselves,” Laura said, slapping her brother’s arm. “The station manager tells me that a train should be coming through in about ten minutes. Shall we go get a good view?”
The cold wind hit them the moment they stepped out onto the platform. Maud pulled her wool scarf over her mouth. Will went to the edge where the tracks started, picked up some snow and packed it into a ball, and then threw it into the dark. Maud followed him.
“I’m sorry about my father,” he said. “He can be so focused that he forgets his manners.”
“What is he so focused on?”
The wind blew open the door and it banged against the wall, letting out the warmth and the conversation of those who’d had the wisdom to stay indoors.
“He trusted our neighbor to watch out for our farm a few years ago when he went to help fight in the rebellion. Many of the men went—”
“Yes, my father did,” Maud said.
Will concentrated on the train tracks. “I was too young.”
Laura and Andrew walked up ahead.
Will extended his arm and, despite her nervousness, she took it. The train’s wheels chugged in the distance.
“So what happened?” she asked.
“When you make a homestead claim, you must stay on the land to prove to the government that you are farming it. But being gone for those six months meant that he wasn’t.”
“But you were,” she said.
“Yes,” Will said, and didn’t speak for a few moments. Maud squeezed his arm to encourage him to go on. “The claim isn’t in my name. And as my father is so fond of reminding me, I wasn’t a man yet.”
Maud understood how it felt to disappoint someone you love.
“Mr. Coombs has always wanted our land, so he told the homestead office. Father has been successful so far explaining the matter, but this Inspector Coon won’t relent. Father has had to prove his claim twice. It’s no excuse, but…” He let go of her arm and turned to face her. “Maud, I hope we are friends,” he said. “I wish to get to know you better.” She could see his breath in the snow-haloed lantern lights of the station.
“Don’t you already? My grandma says I wear my heart on my sleeve.” She walked away from him and heard his soft steps shuffle the snow.
“Your grandma doesn’t know you.”
Maud laughed and turned around. “No, but she thinks she does.” She blew on her hands.
“My father thinks he knows me,” he said, throwing another snowball into the dark.
“I’m sure he thinks he does,” Maud said, wondering how much her own father really knew her. “In his way.”
“Perhaps.” He breathed puffs of white air. “He wants me to take over the farm when he’s gone. I like farming, particularly working with the horses,” he said. “But I also like learning, and I think I would enjoy going to college, but it would mean going back East, and he can’t spare me.”
“I often feel as though I’m stuck.”
“Something else we have in common,” he said. Their eyes met, and as he opened his mouth to say something more, a shrill whistle blew twice, forcing them both to look away.
In the distance, Maud could see a red light coming toward them. It would have been so much easier if her cross-country trip had taken her directly to Prince Albert.
Will grabbed more snow and tossed it onto the track. Then he rolled another snowball and handed it to Maud. “Here,” he said. “I find that sometimes taking action in one small way helps keep a person heading in the right direction.”
“Such as?” She took it.
“Such as getting lost in someone’s brown hair.” His green eyes shone in the dark, and she shivered.
“Toss it,” he whispered.
Maud held the snowball in her hand and remembered all of the dreams she had lost since coming here. Maybe Will was right; it was the doing of one small action that helped a person move forward. She threw the snowball into the dark.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
After Christmas, the election was held. Father earned a seat on the town council, winning by fifty-two votes. He was also appointed to the Board of Works. That night, everyone celebrated at the Kinistino Lodge until the early hours of the morning. Maud had never seen her father so happy.
But the following morning was the first day of school after Christmas Break and, tired from the previous evening’s festivities, Maud slept in. It was only when Annie had come around banging on the door that Maud realized with a horrible start that she had slept in. Why hadn’t anyone woken her up?
Maud leaped out of bed and quickly got dressed, wrapping herself up in a wool petticoat. As she ran downstairs, she noticed that her Father’s coat was missing; most likely, he had already started at his new job. When she came into the kitchen, her stepmother was sitting at the kitchen table feeding Katie. “I wondered if you were going to join us today,” she said.
Maud wondered if Mrs. Montgomery had purposely made her late for school.
In retrospect, the girls should have turned around the moment they walked out the door and saw the swirling snow, which was so dangerous on the prairie. But they were determined, and made their way ever so slowly to the high school.
Finally, the girls burst through the doors, hair wet from the snow and eyes bright from the wind.
“You’re late, Miss Montgomery and Miss McTaggart,” Mr. Mustard said. “Is this the way you two wish to start off the new year?”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Mustard,” Maud said. “We had such a time getting through the snow.”
“Really?” he said. “Everyone else was able to make it here without trouble.”
“We’ve never been late before,” Maud said, her hands clenched in frustration.
“With the heavy snow, this morning was different,” Annie said. “I prevail upon your good judgment and ask you to allow us to take our seats.”
Maud was pretty sure Mr. Mustard’s good judgment—if he’d had any to begin with—had left him long ago.
“Please stand against the wall for the rest of the morning.”
“Excuse me?” Annie said.
“I said stand against the wall or leave.” Mr. Mustard stuck his index finger in his vest. “It is up to you.”
“If I leave now,” Annie said, with a determination Maud had never heard from her before, “you will not be seeing me in your classroom again.”
“What about your teaching certificate, Miss McTaggart?” he said.
“I’ll make other arrangements.”
Annie marched out. And if she wasn’t staying, neither was Maud. She gave Will a sympathetic glance and followed her friend.
With their heads once again down, the girls fought their way home through the swirling snow. Maud urged Annie to reconsider, but her decision was final.
“I will speak to my father,” she said. “I overheard him mention there was a new school in Lindsay that needed a teacher.”