Free True to the Law by Jo Goodman

She flung it open, prepared to charge out into the cold, and squealed like a piglet when she plowed into Cobb Bridger.

Chapter Three
     
    Cobb steadied the girl so she didn’t fall. Before he could apologize she eluded his hold and squeezed past him, as quick and unpredictable as a bead of mercury. He teetered on the threshold, caught himself, and then entered.
    “Please close the door,” Tru said. “Class. Our guest is Mr. Bridger. Say hello.”
    Cobb was aware that every student was already turned in his direction and that they probably had not caught the inflection in their teacher’s voice that made the word “guest” a rather stiff but polite substitute for the word “intruder.” He closed the door.
    “Hell-o, Mr. Bridger!”
    The wall of sound that was their enthusiastic greeting rolled over Cobb. He nearly reared back. “Hello.”
    With all the children turned in their seats to face Cobb, Tru was free to express her disapproval. She did not go as far as setting her hands on her hips and tapping her foot. Her narrow-eyed stare was sufficient.
    Cobb favored her with an apologetic smile while he reached under one arm to reveal he had come bearing a gift. He dangled the sack from his fingertips and gave it a little shake. “From Mrs. Phillips,” he said. “Sand tarts.”
    The children clapped, delighted. More important from his perspective, their teacher stopped glaring at him.
    Tru examined her watch. “I dismiss the class at three o’clock, Mr. Bridger. You may leave the sack on my desk if you like, or stay and pass out the cookies as the children are leaving.”
    “They cannot have them now?”
    Tru was aware of every child’s head swiveling in her direction. “No,” she said firmly. She did not explain herself. The disappointment that was leveled at her was palpable, but she remained resolute.
    “Then if it’s all the same to you, I’d like to stay.”
    Tru pointed to the seat left vacant by Priscilla. “You may sit there. Your bench neighbor is Mary Ransom. Mary, please make room for Mr. Bridger.”
    Cobb looked doubtfully at the bench as Mary scooted to the edge and pulled in her skirts. His knees would not fit under the desk. He would have to make room for them under his chin. “Perhaps I should stand.”
    “No, really,” said Tru. “You should sit.”
    Cobb was familiar with standoffs, and this had all the makings of one. He saw Miss Morrow come to the same realization a moment after he did. The flash of panic in her eyes was revealing, and he let her wrestle with the implications of starting a skirmish that might have no clear winner. Her students were watching him, but it was their respect for her that was in jeopardy.
    Cobb’s decision to comply was a strategic one. There was the battle, and then there was the war.
    “Yes, ma’am,” he said. Cobb observed relief on Finn’s face as he began his march down the center aisle. He held the sack of sand tarts in front of him like the offering of a penitent and gingerly took his place beside the diminutive Mary Ransom. He did not have to tuck his knees under his chin as he feared, but there was no doubt in his mind that he cut a comical figure. He removed his Stetson and set it and the sack of cookies to one side. He wanted the slate uncovered in the event she required him to use it.
    “Thank you, Mr. Bridger. Class, eyes here.” She motioned to herself. “Who remembers where we left off?” Three hands shot up. Tru called on Charity Burnside.
    “The capital of Pennsylvania,” she said. “The Keystone State.”
    “Thank you, Charity.” Tru picked up her pointer and indicated Pennsylvania on the map. She did not assume that Charity knew the capital so she put the question to the class. She was prepared to ignore Cobb if he raised his hand, but apparently he had decided not to be more disruptive than he already had been. That, or he didn’t know the capital.
    “Harrisburg,” Tom Sedgwick said when she acknowledged him.
    “Very