Free This Gun for Hire by Jo Goodman

and continue to fund in town.”
    Ramsey looked over at Quill. “Tell her. Tell her why it was not appropriate for her to attend the school I built, staffed, and continue to fund.”
    Quill was grateful for Ann speaking up before he had to.
    “I do not want to hear Mr. McKenna’s opinion on any matter since it merely echoes your own.” Under her breath, she said, “Bootlicker.”
    Quill pressed a fist to his mouth and cleared his throat to cover his chuckle. Ramsey, he noted, was equally amused and trying hard not to show it.
    “Mind yourself, Ann,” said Ramsey.
    Quill was aware he did not tell his daughter to apologize, probably because he was not sure she would. Quill harbored similar doubts.
    Ramsey put down the letter. “Tell me about this proposal of yours.”
    Ann blinked. It was the only outward sign she gave that her father’s turn of thought surprised her. “I have already begun to outline what I believe is a curriculum equal or superior to that which I might receive at any of the women’s colleges. I can say that with confidence because I based my curriculum on the liberal arts studies offered by the various schools. I do not fool myself into thinking I can complete such an ambitious course of study on my own. Aunt Beatrice says there must be discussion, and I agree. I must bechallenged to think in new ways about what I read. It will open my mind to experiencing the world in a different light.”
    “Experiencing what world?” Ramsey wanted to know. “I thought you were not going anywhere.”
    “Not now. Not at this moment, but someday. And when I do, I will have a deeper appreciation for the adventure of it.”
    “All right. Let us say that I approve your curriculum—and before we go any further, my approval of your curriculum is not negotiable. You must agree to it. I insist.”
    “I cannot do that. That would give you license to alter my studies in a way I might find abominable. We would arrive at this impasse again, both of us unhappier than we are now.”
    That gave Ramsey Stonechurch pause. He stared at his daughter, his world, as if he were seeing her in a new light. “Are you unhappy, Ann?”
    Tears came unbidden. She was successful blinking them back, but her chin trembled. “I don’t mean to be,” she said. “I try hard not to be.”
    “Is there someone?” he asked. “Someone you don’t want to leave behind?”
    Ann’s mouth opened a fraction. She gaped at her father and the flush was back in her cheeks.
    Before she could speak, Ramsey said, “Mr. McKenna thinks there might be a young man keeping you here.”
    Quill actually jerked in his chair. He glared at Ramsey in the brief moment he had before Ann rounded on him. His first thought was to defend himself. His second thought was to let it go. He went with his second thought.
    “My father should be flattered that you think him young, Mr. McKenna, because I can assure you that he is the only man I do not want to leave behind.”
    “I beg your pardon, Miss Stonechurch, if I misspoke.”
    “If?” she asked haughtily. “
If
you misspoke? You most certainly did. I know that is precisely the sort of notion that would provoke my father to pitch a fit. How dare you compromise his health by entertaining that idea aloud and in his presence? As a lawyer, I thought you would know betterthan to make your case with no supporting evidence, and the reason I know you have no evidence is because what you suppose is not true. There is no young man.”
    “Ann,” Ramsey said gently, “please calm yourself. Mr. McKenna knows he was in error. Don’t you, Mr. McKenna?”
    “I do,” said Quill, but what he was thinking was the lady doth protest too much. He started to rise. “I have no place here. I believe your discussion would be better served if I left.”
    “Sit,” said Ramsey.
    “Stay,” said Ann.
    Quill regarded them sardonically, one brow arched, his mouth pulled to the side, and then he continued to the door.
    “Come back