he’d been out of town for a week, too.
“I told you—last week. They said she used to live here.” She studied his hard face. It looked dangerous. “Did she, Daddy?”
“Yes,” he said with icy contempt. “Yes, she used to live here. Well, we’ll see how Miss Hayes handles herself with another adult,” he added.
He went to the telephone and picked it up and dialed the principal of the Bighorn Elementary School.
Mrs. Jameson was surprised to hear Powell Long on the other end of the phone. She’d never known him to interfere in school matters before, even when Maggie was up to her teeth in trouble with another student.
“I want to know why you permit an educator to tell a child that she’s lazy and stupid,” he demanded.
There was a long pause. “I beg your pardon?” the principal asked, shocked.
“Maggie said that Miss Hayes told her she was lazy and stupid,” he said shortly. “I want that teacher talked to, and talked to hard. I don’t want to have to come up there myself. Is that clear?”
Mrs. Jameson knew Powell Long. She was intimidated enough to agree that she’d speak to Antonia on Monday.
And she did. Reluctantly.
“I had a call from Maggie Long’s father Friday afternoon after you left,” Mrs. Jameson told Antonia, who was sitting rigidly in front of her in her office. “I don’t believe for a minute that you’d deliberately make insulting remarks to that child. Heaven knows, every teacher in this school except Mrs. Donalds has had trouble with her, although Mr. Long has never interfered. It’s puzzling that he would intervene, and that Maggie would say such things about you.”
“I haven’t called her stupid,” Antonia said evenly. “I have told her that if she refuses to do her homework and write down the answers on tests, she will be given a failing grade. I’ve never made a policy of giving undeserved marks, or playing favorites.”
“I’m sure you haven’t,” Mrs. Jameson replied. “Your record in Tucson is spotless. I even spoke to your principal there, who was devastated to have lost you. He speaks very highly of your intelligence and your competence.”
“I’m glad. But I don’t know what to do about Maggie,” she continued. “She doesn’t like me. I’m sorry about that, but I don’t know what I can do to change her attitude. If she could only be helpful like her friend Julie,” she added. “Julie is a first-rate little student.”
“Everyone loves Julie,” the principal agreed. She folded her hands on her desk. “I have to ask you this, Antonia. Is it possible that unconsciously you might be taking out old hurts on Maggie? I know that you were engaged to her father once…. It’s a small town,” she added apologetically when Antonia stiffened, “and one does hear gossip. I also know that Maggie’s mother broke you up and spread some pretty terrible lies about you in the community.”
“There are people who still don’t think they were lies,” Antonia replied tersely. “My mother eventually died because of the pressure and censure the community put on her because of them.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know that.”
“She had a bad heart. I left town, to keep the talk to a minimum, but she never got over it.” Her head lifted, and she forced a weak smile. “I was innocent of everything I had been accused of, but I paid the price anyway.”
Mrs. Jameson looked torn. “I shouldn’t have brought it up.”
“Yes, you should,” Antonia replied. “You had the right to know if I was deliberately persecuting a student. I despised Sally for what she did to me, and I have no more love for Maggie’s father than for his late wife. But I hope I’m not such a bad person that I’d try to make a child suffer for something she didn’t do.”
“Nor do I believe you would, consciously,” Mrs. Jameson replied. “It’s a touchy situation, though. Mr. Long has enormous influence in the community. He’s quite wealthy and his temper is legendary in these parts. He has no compunction about making scenes in public, and he threatened to come up here himself if this situation isn’t resolved.” She laughed a little unsteadily. “Miss Hayes, I’m forty-five years old. I’ve worked hard all my life to achieve my present status. It would be very difficult for me to find another job if I lost this one, and I have an invalid husband to support and a son in college. I plead with you not to put my job in jeopardy.”
“I never would do that,” Antonia promised. “I’d quit before I’d see an innocent person hurt by my actions. But Mr. Long is very wrong about the way his daughter is being treated. In fact, she’s causing the problems. She refuses to do her work and she knows that I can’t force her to.”
“She certainly does. She’ll go to her father, and he’ll light fires under members of the school board. I believe at least one of them owes him money, in fact, and the other three are afraid of him.” She cleared her throat. “I’ll tell you flat that I’m afraid of him, myself.”
“No freedom of speech in these parts, I gather?”
“If your freedom impinges on his prejudices, no, there isn’t,” Mrs. Jameson agreed. “He’s something of a tyrant in his way. We certainly can’t fault him for being concerned about his child, though.”
“No,” Antonia agreed. She sighed. Her own circumstances were tenuous, to say the least. She had her own problems and fear gnawed at her all the time. She wasn’t afraid of Powell Long, though. She was more afraid of what lay ahead for her.
“You will try…about Maggie?” Mrs. Jameson added.
Antonia smiled. “Certainly I will. But may I come to you if the problem doesn’t resolve itself and ask for help?”
“If there’s any to give, you may.” She grimaced. “I have my own doubts about Maggie’s cooperation. And we both have a lot to lose if her father isn’t happy.”
“Do you want me to pass her anyway?” Antonia asked. “To give her grades she hasn’t earned, because her father might be upset if she fails?”
Mrs. Jameson flushed. “I can’t tell you to do that, Miss Hayes. We’re supposed to educate children, not pass them through favoritism.”
“I know that,” Antonia said.
“But you wondered if I did,” came the dry reply. “Yes, I do. But I’m job scared. When you’re my age, Miss Hayes,” she added gently, “I can guarantee that you will be, too.”
Antonia’s eyes were steady and sad. She knew that she might never have the problem; she might not live long enough to have it. She thanked Mrs. Jameson and went back to her classroom, morose and dejected.
Maggie watched her as she sat down at her desk and instructed the class to proceed with their English lesson. She didn’t look very happy. Her father must have shaken them up, Maggie thought victoriously. Well, she wasn’t going to do that homework or do those tests. And when she failed, her father would come storming up here, because he never doubted his little girl’s word. He’d have Miss Hayes on the run in no time. Then maybe Mrs. Donalds would have her baby and come back, and everything would be all right again. She glared at Julie, who just ignored her. She was sick of Julie, kissing up to Miss Hayes. Julie was a real sap. Maggie wasn’t sure who she disliked more—Julie or Miss Hayes.
There was one nice touch, and that was that Miss Hayes coolly told her that she had until Friday to turn in her essay and the other homework that Antonia had assigned the class.
The next four days went by, and Antonia asked for homework papers to be turned in that she’d assigned at the beginning of the week. Maggie didn’t turn hers in.
“You’ll get a zero if you don’t have all of it by this afternoon, including the essay you owe me,” Antonia told her, dreading the confrontation she knew was coming, despite all her