Chapter 10Staten Kirkland
Chapter 10
Windy Change
Tuesday
Staten Kirkland
S taten had meant to put on clean clothes, maybe dress up a little, or even wear his Sunday best. But as usual he didn’t have time. School was almost out. He drove into Crossroads and to the only K–12 school in town, looking for Dr. Charlotte Lane.
Granny had just heard from Miss Butterfield that the ex-A he didn’t have time.
As he passed the library, he tried to remember ever checking out a book for fun.
Truth hit him hard. He was dumb.
Staten reached the main office and decided to quit thinking.
He stopped at Miss Butterfield’s desk, and the secretary, dressed in pink as always, smiled at him. “Well, hello there, Staten. I thought we already got rid of you. How’s your folks?”
“Hi, Miss Butterfield. They’re doing good.” He grinned. “Granny told me about your new English teacher, Dr. Lane. I would like to talk to her if I can.”
“Sorry, you can’t do that. At least not for ten more minutes.” The pink lady sat back in her chair and looked Staten up and down like she was counting each speck of dirt on his clothes. “But since you’re all grown up and dirty as an outlaw, I’ll help you a bit. She’s upstairs in 307. The minute the bell rings, you can step into her room but not before. You better talk fast, though, because she’s also the football coach. She’ll be headed for the field after the halls clear.”
“Thanks.”
He left the office, turned to the stairs, and took the steps two at a time. He’d just hit the third floor as the bell rang. A few students nodded at him but Staten realized most didn’t recognize him. They were all one or two years behind him. And Staten had changed a lot since high school. Now, he was dressed like a cowhand. Bigger. Tanner. His hair was months overdue for a cut, his beard was overgrown, and worse, he was dirty from work.
When he walked into the almost empty room, Dr. Lane turned with her eyebrow raised. “May I help you?”
Staten stared at the lady. She had to be almost middle-aged! Maybe in her forties. Neither pretty nor ugly. She was plain, one of those people folks never remembered details about. It crossed his mind that she’d make a great bank robber, then he considered slapping himself.
Stay on point , he told himself.
Staten took his hat off and said what he’d rehearsed on the way here. “I’m Staten Kirkland. I graduated this past May, and I was wondering if you’d be willing to teach me college freshman English.”
The lady looked tired. “I’m a high school teacher now. You are in the wrong place. I hear there is a university about a hundred miles from here that you could try.”
“I know. I was already enrolled at Texas Tech, but I had to leave to help my family. I know it’s not your job anymore, but I figure you probably haven’t forgotten all you used to teach. I could really use the help. I plan to reenroll as soon as I can.”
He paused, thinking of how to make her understand how important this was to him. “Since I left Lubbock, I feel like I’m dumbing up. I have a ranch about fifteen miles out of town and I can’t leave it often. But I’ve got to feel like I’m learning about something besides ranching. I can pay whatever you charge. Consider it tutoring. I have to learn so I can grow.”
She looked at him carefully. “Speaking of growing, you look about six feet, four inches. I’m just guessing, but I think you’re as tall as you’re going to get. How old are you, young man?”
“In three months, I’ll be twenty.”
She looked surprised. “I would have guessed twenty-five, maybe older.”
Staten smiled. “I’m aging fast. I’ve got a full plate of work but I’ll carve out time, and I know it won’t count toward any college credit. But I don’t care. It’s the learning I need. I’ve got to talk to college people and not feel like an idiot. I’m getting dumber by the minute.”
The teacher walked back and forth in front of her desk, gathering her things. “When do you plan to go back to college?”
Staten knew he had to be straight with this lady. “I don’t know. I did one month at Tech. Then my folks needed help on the ranch. From the looks of it, I’ll be needed for a while. I have no idea when I’ll be able to do the college thing again.”
He thought he saw sorrow in her eyes. Maybe she felt for him. “Dr. Lane, I just want to learn to talk to educated people. I love the land and working it. The job seems endless. But even so, I wonder if I can master ranching and college both. If you can’t teach me, I’ll find someone else. I just thought I’d start with English or history, if you’ll take me on.”
Dr. Lane folded her arms. “You seem wise beyond your age, Staten. I’ll teach you what writers and poets have to say, but my expertise is in literature of the American West, so you won’t be escaping ranching too much. We can start with a course I taught at A she’s old but gentle. Is Sunday afternoon a good time to start?”
“That is fine.” She smiled for the first time since he walked into the room. “And, if you want to talk to highly educated people, mostly all you need to do is listen.” She grabbed a worn satchel and threw it over her shoulder. “And now I’ve got to head down to the football field. I’ll see you Sunday at two at your ranch. Where is it?”
Staten let out a breath.
“Just head west, and you’ll run into it. Drive until you see the Double K gate, then keep going until you see the headquarters. Can’t miss it.”
He could barely control his excitement as he left the school. He wanted to run laps around the football field like he’d done the first time Amalah told him she loved him.
“Slow down there, Kirkland.” Dan Brigman marched up to Staten’s truck, his Eagle Scout uniform on and his backpack slung over his shoulder. “Every time I see you you’re racing around.”
Staten laughed. Nothing could spoil his mood. He clapped Dan’s shoulder. “You’re right. We have to stop meeting like this, Deputy.”
A red tint stained the junior officer’s cheeks. He squared his shoulders. “Drive safe, you hear.”
“Yes, sir.”
As Staten got in his truck, he watched the future deputy rush to the crosswalk to help a group of younger students cross the street, whistling at a minivan that stopped an inch over the lane’s white line. He would make a fine sheriff one day.
Maybe sometimes change was a good thing.