Page 10 of Storm in Montana (Montana Becketts, Wild Spirit Ranch #3)

The words flowed more smoothly now, carried by conviction rather than memorization.

She spoke of her time in Philadelphia, of the schools she’d visited there.

Of classrooms filled with maps and globes, of teachers trained in the latest methods.

Her hands moved in graceful emphasis as she outlined her vision.

Not only repairs to the roof but a transformation of Mystic’s resources.

“Our children deserve the best information available regarding history, reading, and figures,” she declared, watching faces in the crowd. “They also deserve to explore ideas, to question, to dream beyond the boundaries of what they already know. With proper funding and support, we could—”

“And I suppose you think you know what’s best for our children?” The interruption came from near the middle of the room, sharp with scorn. “Just because you’ve spent time in the city?”

Annalee kept her spine straight, addressing the speaker directly. “I think we all want what’s best for Mystic’s future. I’m simply proposing—”

“Proposing to turn our school into some fancy city institution,” another voice cut in. “Where children learn everything except what they need to survive out here.”

“No.” Annalee’s voice hardened. “I’m proposing to give them tools to thrive, not just survive. Knowledge isn’t a threat to our way of life. It’s an opportunity to strengthen it.”

A low murmur ran through the crowd. Near the back, someone coughed, a sound heavy with derision. Annalee noticed other reactions as well. The seamstress nodded slowly, her expression thoughtful. The young mother in the fourth row leaned forward, interest breaking through her initial skepticism.

“For those of you who’ve been here a short time, Annalee Beckett is a respected member of Mystic and was taught in our schoolhouse,” a booming voice announced from the front of the room.

Artemus Graham, the president of Mystic Bank, slowly stood.

“She spent a year in Philadelphia and has recently returned. Let me assure you, she is every bit the ranch woman many of you would like to be. Now, to your ideas, Annalee. Cost is a concern.”

“I’ve prepared detailed budgets, Mr. Graham.

” Annalee withdrew a sheaf of papers from her sleeve.

“Including potential funding sources and a phased implementation plan. I’m not suggesting we make changes overnight.

What I am suggesting is we begin thinking about education as an investment in our community’s future. ”

Mayor Jergen cleared his throat. “Miss Beckett, while we appreciate your enthusiasm and insights, perhaps this matter would be better addressed by the school board.”

“The school board which hasn’t met in eight months?” Annalee’s question cracked across the room like summer lightning. “The same board that has ignored three separate requests for basic supplies?”

More muttering now, some of it agreeing with her point. She pressed on, laying out specific examples of current deficiencies and proposed solutions. Her voice remained level, each word chosen with care, even as she noticed Brodie shift his weight against the wall, his expression unreadable.

“This isn’t about making Mystic into something it’s not,” she concluded, meeting the eyes of those who would look at her.

“It’s about making it more of what it already is and has always been.

A community where hard work and intelligence go hand in hand.

Where our children can grow up knowing both the practical skills they need and the broader knowledge that will help them build a better future. ”

The following silence stretched taut as fence wire. Then the voices started, overlapping and colliding:

“Too citified—”

“Might be worth considering—”

“My Sarah would love to learn more than just—”

Jergen’s gavel crashed down again. “Order! Order! This matter will be taken under advisement and discussed at the next school board meeting. Moving on to the next item…”

Annalee sat down, her head high despite the flush climbing her neck. Naomi’s hand found hers as she sat, a brief squeeze conveying both pride and understanding.

The meeting continued around them, though Annalee barely heard it.

She’d said her piece, planted her seeds.

Some had fallen on rocky ground, true enough.

Despite all the negative comments, she’d seen the spark of interest in enough eyes to know not all had been wasted.

She’d made them think, made them consider possibilities beyond the comfortable boundaries of tradition, as well as the complacency of the school board.

The crowd trickled out of the hall like water finding its way around stones, some people hurrying past while others lingered in small clusters, their conversations a mix of whispers and pointed glances.

Annalee remained in her seat, watching the slow exodus while her heart continued its uneven rhythm against her ribs.

“I need to speak with Martha about the church social,” Naomi said, rising from the bench. Her hand brushed Annalee’s shoulder. “Take your time. I’ll wait by the wagon.”

She nodded, grateful for her mother’s understanding. The oil lamp flames wavered in their glass globes, casting ominous shadows across the emptying room. She pressed her palms against her skirts, feeling the tremors she’d hidden during her speech breaking free.

A shadow fell across the floor in front of her. She looked up to find Brodie Gaines standing in the aisle, his badge catching the lamplight. He adjusted his hat, a gesture she recognized from childhood as a sign of discomfort.

“Miss Beckett,” he said, his voice pitched low.

“Sheriff.” She managed to keep her own voice steady, though her pulse quickened traitorously.

“That was quite a speech.” His green eyes met hers before sliding away. “Caused quite a stir.”

“Someone needed to say it.”

“Maybe so.” He paused, fingers touching the brim of his hat again. “Watch yourself. Some folks don’t take kindly to new ideas.”

The warning in his tone made her spine stiffen. “I’m not afraid of them, Brodie.”

“Never thought you were, Annie.” The childhood nickname slipped out, hanging between them for a moment before he tipped his hat and turned away, disappearing into the thinning crowd near the door.

Annalee watched him go, remembering summer afternoons when he and Cody had taught her to shoot, their laughter echoing across the ranch yard. Before everything changed. Before Cody left. Before Brodie started looking at her with a careful distance in his eyes.

“You spoke beautifully.”

The new voice pulled her from her memories. Faith Beckett, her brother Joshua’s wife, stood nearby, her blonde hair pulled up in an elegant chignon. The newspaper editor’s green eyes held warmth and understanding, two things Annalee hoped to find tonight.

“Thank you.” Annalee managed a smile. “Though I suspect tomorrow’s Gazette might carry some different opinions.”

“Oh, I’ll print those, too.” Faith settled onto the bench beside her. “Along with a piece about the demonstrated benefits of how our education counterparts in other communities are enriching minds with more information. I’ve been researching the subject.”

Annalee turned to look at her friend more directly. “You have?”

“Mm-hmm. Ever since you mentioned your ideas to me when you first returned to Mystic. I have contacts at newspapers in Denver, Salt Lake City, and St. Louis. They’ve sent me quite interesting information about their school curriculum.”

The knot in Annalee’s chest loosened. “I thought I was alone in this.”

“You’re not.” Faith’s hand found her shoulder, squeezing gently. “Change takes time, especially here. The first step is getting people to talk about it. Even if they’re talking about how much they disagree. Do you recall all the snide comments when we first launched the Mystic Women’s Alliance?”

Annalee laughed. “Yes, I do.”

“I want to call a meeting to discuss your ideas in detail with the women. Then we’ll push for the mayor to set a date for a school board meeting. What do you say?”

The last few townspeople drifted out, their voices fading into the evening air. Annalee could hear horses stamping in the street outside, wagon wheels creaking as people headed home.

“I’m all for a meeting of the women. Let Joshua know when it will be, and you can be assured I’ll attend.” She again heard the sounds from outside. Standing, she smiled at Faith. “Thank you for helping me. Right now, I should go. Mama’s waiting.”

They stood together, their skirts rustling in the quiet hall. Faith’s presence steadied her as they walked toward the exit, past the platform where Annalee had stood her ground against generations of tradition.

“Mama asked about you yesterday,” Annalee mentioned. “She wants to know when you and Josh will be out for Sunday supper.”

Faith’s laugh carried a hint of embarrassment. “We’ll be there this Sunday.”

They paused on the top step, looking out over the main street of Mystic. Somewhere down the street, a piano played in the saloon, the music drifting on the evening breeze.

“Whatever happens,” Faith said softly, “you did the right thing today.”

Annalee started to respond, but movement near the mercantile caught her eye. She stared for a moment, then shook her head.

“Annalee?” Faith followed her gaze. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” she responded, though her heart had begun to race.

“Just shadows playing tricks in this light.” A smile played at the corners of her lips.

She was certain Brodie had been standing guard, making sure she reached the wagon and was safe.

Warmth rushed through her. How nice it was to have someone care about her enough to stand guard on this frigid night.

Climbing aboard the wagon, Annalee was afraid she just might grow used to it.