Curious as to why Mrs. Howard wasn’t as excited as she was about the books, but unwilling to upset her hostess, Hope simply followed her up the steps. A few other people were headed inside as well, and Hope was glad to see that the doors were open, even though it had just turned nine.
Inside, Hope recognized the same teller, Mr. Garner, who had helped her send her message the day before. He waved her over, and Hope waited for him to finish with an older gentleman dressed in dirty trousers and a wide-brimmed cowboy hat before she stepped to the window.
“Mornin’ Miss Tucker. I got a telegram for you!” he said, pulling it off of a stack. “Came in a few minutes after you left yesterday.”
Hope’s enthusiasm bubbled to the surface as she took the paper. “Thank you! My daddy works at a bank, so I’m sure he was able to send his response quickly.” She longed to read it right then, but they had other business to take care of. “I would like to open an account while I’m here.”
“And we would like to speak to Mr. Stewart when he has a few minutes,” Nita added from over Hope’s shoulder.
“Good mornin’ Mrs. Howard,” Mr. Garner replied. “Mr. Stewart’s awful busy this morning. But I’ll let him know. Now, Miss Tucker, I’ll need a bit of information to start your account.”
It didn’t take long for Hope to provide the necessary information so that she could start her account. She handed over the money she’d brought with her and watched as the teller counted it and made note. “That’s a nice little sum to start your independent living off with,” he said with a smile.
Hope was glad Mrs. Howard had wandered over to speak to a friend so she wasn’t keeping careful count of how much Hope had to her name. “My family has been generous to let me live at home while I’ve been teaching in Missouri,” she explained.
He didn’t make any other comment, only wrote out a deposit slip and gave her the information about her account. He collected the money, likely going to put it in the vault, and said, “I’ll go let Mr. Stewart know you’d like to speak to him.”
Hope thanked him and then turned back to see if Mrs. Howard was ready. She was still carrying on an animated conversation, now with two other women, and Hope wondered if the bank was the place people came to discuss the town’s news. Hope took the opportunity to read the telegram from her parents. It was brief, stating only that they were glad she’d arrived safely and would write letters soon enough. While she was disappointed it didn’t say more, she realized it was hard to send too much in a telegram.
A few moments later, Mr. Garner returned, and Hope looked at him expectantly. “Mr. Stewart said he’ll be out to meet you directly.”
“Thank you.” Hope stepped aside so that another person could speak to the teller and walked to a bulletin board on the wall. There were plenty of pictures of criminals wanted for bank robbery, and she thought it a little odd to have it posted here. Wouldn’t it frighten the tellers to constantly be reminded that they could be held up at any moment?
“I like the tellers to know what they look like,” a gruff voice said behind her, and Hope turned to see a large man with a dark mustache which curled up at the ends. He was dressed nicely in a suit but smelled of bacon grease, and Hope had trouble deciding how all of those contradictions worked together. “You must be Miss Tucker.”
She offered her hand. “Yes, I am. Pleased to meet you. Mr. Stewart?”
He nodded, a grin spreading across his wide face. “Who else?” He laughed, and Hope was puzzled as to whether or not he was laughing at her or if he was simply trying to lighten the mood. “Glad to see you made it to our little town safely.”
Hope could’ve thought of many words to describe McKinney, but “little” really wasn’t one of them. She didn’t comment. “Yes, thank you. I arrived yesterday. Mr. Brady Howard took me over to see the school. It’s a fine building.” She thought it best to start with the positive. Her eyes wandered over to Nita who was still talking and hadn’t seemed to notice that Mr. Stewart was present.
“It is, isn’t it? Many a fine man contributed to the building of that schoolhouse. We hope it will be large enough to house our growing population for several years to come.”
“The schoolhouse is certainly large enough. And I believe there are enough desks. The blackboard was a great size.” She tried to think if there was anything else she could comment about but couldn’t think of anything else without sounding ridiculous—one didn’t compliment the outhouses, after all. “I did notice there were not any slates.”
“Slates?” he asked, running his hand across his chin. “Wouldn’t the children bring those?”
“Do they have them?” she countered. “I would think most students wouldn’t have their own slates. I am used to there being a certain number of supplies provided by the school district.”
Mr. Stewart’s face puckered slightly. “There’s plenty of chalk. I think the students could bring their own slates. They can order them from the five-and-dime.”
Hope drew in a breath through her nose. “Might we be able to purchase five or ten to have on hand, just in case some students aren’t able to get them? They certainly won’t have them before Monday.”
“Well, I can’t provide them before Monday either,” he countered.
“Yes, I realize that, sir. I only think… it would be helpful if we could order some. And then there’s the situation with the books.”
“Books? What books?” he asked. Now, his hand tugged at his waistline, slipping in and out from his belt, and Hope could tell he was growing agitated.
“Yes, sir, that’s just it. There aren’t any. I will need primers—a curriculum—as well as some volumes for the children to practice their reading.”
Mr. Stewart was already shaking his head before she finished speaking. “Miss Tucker, we hired you to teach because we were under the impression you knew how to do all of that. Haven’t you already taught dozens of children how to read? Can’t you rely on your own knowledge?”
“Mr. Stewart, being able to teach and having the resources one needs are separate issues. Yes, of course, I can teach. But I require certain materials in order to be able to do so.”
“Miss Tucker, I’m not sure what the environment is like where you come from, but here, people are very cautious about what they read. I’m sure every family that attends school will own a Bible. You can teach them to read from that, rather than the drivel you may find in a library.” He gestured at the book under her arm, and Hope pulled it out so that he could see.
“This?” she asked. “Charles Dickens? I wouldn’t read this particular book to students, but certainly you can see the merit in such works as Oliver Twist? Or David Copperfield?”
Mr. Stewart ran a hand through his thin hair and took a step back. “Miss Tucker, I’m afraid we have no budget for books. But I will appropriate enough funds to get you a few slates. I will send the request over to the store later this morning. That will have to do. I’m afraid you will have to make do with what the town can provide for you.”
She could tell the conversation was over, and Mr. Stewart took a few steps backward. Frustrated, Hope took a deep breath. “Thank you for the slates,” she said, each word measured. This argument wasn’t over yet.