Free Where the Trail Ends: American Tapestries by Melanie Dobson Page B

“Can we go look for him with you?”
    “No, you return home today.” With his wave, chairs grated across the wooden floor as the children sprang to their feet. Half of them were already through the door when he called out, “Tomorrow. We’ll have school tomorrow!”
    If Calvert returned...
    All twenty-three children were gone in less than a minute’s time. He wished he could motivate the men under him as quickly as he’d motivated these students. Of course, if he gave his men a day off from work, they’d evacuate just as fast.
    Closing the schoolroom door, Alex marched across the piazza toward Bachelor’s Hall. He didn’t think living in the wilderness was good for children, but the governor disagreed. McLoughlin rarely got angry, but when he did, it was most disconcerting for all those who witnessed it. The disappearance of Calvert might be one of those times.
    If Alex ran the fort, he’d find a way for all of them to go to school in the East, where they could receive a decent education. But he didn’t run the fort. Or at least, not when McLoughlin was here.
    He strode up to the second floor of the hall and pounded on the fourth door to his left. When no one answered, he lifted the latch to Calvert’s room and pushed the door open. There were no clothes hanging from the pegs along the wall, no blankets on the narrow bed. But there was a note on the windowsill, and Alex read it quickly. Then he balled it up.
    Calvert wasn’t coming back, and the schoolboy was right. Itwould be useless to search for him. He had gone to live among the Indians, and Alex knew that they would be moving this time of year—hunting pelts and collecting food for the winter. If Calvert married the Chinook woman, her tribe would protect him.
    McLoughlin was the only one who had any hope of retrieving Calvert—if he wanted the man to return. Some natives called McLoughlin “The White-Headed Eagle,” while others called him “King of the Columbia.” He was a peacemaker to them, and a tilikum —friend. He insisted that the clerks trade fairly with the Indians, and he even ransomed children the local tribes kept as slaves, offering eight to ten wool blankets in exchange for each one.
    While the Indians were civil enough to Alex, he doubted they would ever refer to him as a friend.
    He heard footsteps coming up the hall and turned to see Simon Gervais.
    Simon scanned the empty room. “I heard Calvert’s missing.”
    Alex tossed the note onto the bed. “And he does not plan to return.”
    “The man was never cut out to be a teacher.”
    “Sometimes we must do things we are not cut out to do,” Alex snapped.
    Simon backed toward the door. “I don’t condone his leaving. I’m just speaking the truth.”
    “McLoughlin will be furious.”
    “It won’t be the first time.”
    Alex studied his friend for a moment. Simon was responsible for training the new clerks assigned to the general store. He was as educated as most of the men. “You went to school, did you not?”
    “Until the fifth grade. When I wasn’t working with my mother.”
    “You could teach them, then. Just until we find a replacement.”
    Simon’s laughter followed Alex into the hallway.
    Alex shook his head. “I was not trying to be humorous.”
    “I don’t know the first thing about teaching children,” Simon said, walking with him down the hall.
    Alex shrugged. “It is much like training your clerks, I suppose.”
    “You don’t know anything about teaching children either.”
    “I am well aware of that.” Alex cleared his throat. “But it cannot be that difficult.”
    Calvert had taught them, after all.
    “I suppose it would be quite easy.” Simon laughed again. “As easy as taming a classroom full of wild horses.”
    They stepped onto the first floor, into the great room where the men ate during the day and danced at night. Simon pointed toward the window. “Maybe she’d like to teach.”
    Alex followed Simon’s finger, his eyes landing on the