A/N: Sorry for the long delay, guys. It's been a busy month, and this chapter turned out a little longer than I had originally intended.

I'll have to dedicate it to Xphoenix, you'll see why.

Don't make me beg for reviews, because I will! LOL

Chapter 8 – The Sick Boy.

On the next morning, James took me to Sheriff Summers's house in his wagon.

"Ya can do this, Jean," he encouraged me, even though we both would have preferred that I stayed secluded in the ranch.

I forced a smile for his sake. "Thanks, Logan."

He nodded at me once, then cracked the leather reins against the horses' backs; they trotted away, leaving me alone on the unpaved street.

I heard the church bell chiming nine o'clock. Mustering all the courage I had, I took a deep breath and knocked on the front door.

"Good morning, sheriff," I greeted my new boss enthusiastically, giving him a small curtsy. Now that we were standing face to face for the first time, I noticed how tall he was.

"Morning, Miss Howlett," Scott Summers bowed to me. He was impeccably dressed in a white shirt and black necktie, with dark brown cowboy boots covering his black trousers up to his mid-calves. He looked good, definitely not like someone who'd just had his heart broken by his wife. "I confess I wasn't sure if your brother would let you come," he said to me, sounding surprised. "I'm glad you're here, though. Please, do come in."

He hadn't put any malice in the word 'brother', so I assumed he didn't suspect of my true identity. With a boost of confidence, I closed my parasol, cleaned my boots on the doormat, and stepped inside.

Sheriff Summers's home was a comfortable two-story house in one of the main streets of Fredericksburg. The dim foyer led to a large living room where a renaissance three-seat velvet couch and a pair of cavalry motif armchairs faced the fireplace, a mahogany coffee table sitting between them. The portrait of a distinguished officer sporting a mustache and dressed in a Yankee's blue jacket adorned the chimney breast, while a bunch of honor medals and plaques decorated the mantelpiece. If not for the military theme, the sheriff's living room would have reminded me of my own in Springfield – classy, but not lavish.

"Nathan is waiting for us in the dining room," Summers informed me.

I followed him to said room, which consisted of an adjoining chamber furnished with an ebony Louis XV set of dining table and chairs for eight people resting on a tasteful but worn-out Gobelin rug, and an ancient accent cabinet placed under the large double windows. There was no need for candlelight at that time of the day given that a lot of sunlight poured in through the windowpanes. Scattered across the table, I counted two literacy books, one notebook with several childish drawings in it, three pencils, and a half-drunk glass of milk. Yet, no boy waited for us there.

"Great. Nate must've hidden himself again," Sheriff Summers voiced. He looked behind the doors and even peeked under the table, but to no avail. He turned to me, his face a mix of embarrassment and concern. "I'm so sorry, Miss Howlett… Nathan's very timid, and he can become difficult sometimes, especially among strangers," he sighed tiredly. "He must've gone upstairs. Make yourself comfortable, I'll be back with him in no time."

The sheriff jogged to the stairs down the hall. I laid my handbag and parasol on the table and was about to pull a chair when I noticed that one of the cabinet doors wasn't completely closed. Through the gap between the two doors, one blue eye peeped curiously at me. I smiled.

I pretended not to have spotted him and walked towards the cabinet, stopping inches from the semi-open door.

"I bet Nathan Summers is hiding in this room," I spoke aloud, meaning for the boy to hear me. He kept hidden and didn't respond to my lure, so I went on, "Actually, I know he is in this room… I know it because I'm a mind-reader," I made it up. Glimpsing down, I noticed that he had recoiled inside the cabinet, closing the door all the way now. I held back a smirk. "Hmm… his thoughts are so close that I can almost touch them. Perhaps… if I crouch down a little… my mind-reading skills will work better," I announced deliberately.

I squatted down in front of the cabinet, not minding the wrinkles forming on my skirt. Slowly, I opened the doors. A skinny nine-year-old boy that looked no older than seven was staring back at me, eyes wide in awe. Around his left eye, an ugly reddened mark that could only be the result of a severe case of smallpox scarred his face. Poor thing, I thought. No wonder he didn't feel comfortable around strangers.

I realized that outcast child was a loner and a survival – much like me. What's more, I felt immediately drawn to him. I decided right there that I was going to befriend Nathan Summers, because maybe what he needed the most was a friend – just like I had needed. But first, I had to win his trust.

"There you are! Wow, yours was one tough mind to read! You must be a real smart kid, to conceal your thoughts like that…" I said, earning a shy smile from him. Encouraged, I whispered, "Good hiding spot, by the way. I would never have found you in there if not for my very special mind-reading talent."

I stood up and offered him my hand, but Nathan hesitated to accept it. We heard the sheriff descending the stairs and calling out for him. He gazed up at me, and it became evident by his flustered look that he didn't want his father to discover where he'd been hiding. So I quickly pulled him out of the cabinet and placed him on the floor, shutting the doors behind us.

"You don't tell him about me being a mind-reader, and I don't tell him about your hiding spot. Deal?" I proposed. He nodded affirmatively.

When Sheriff Summers returned to the dining room, he found his son and I facing each other. "Oh. Okay. You two have met already. Good," he babbled, probably relieved that the boy had given up hiding. "Miss Howlett, this is my son Nathan Christopher. Nate, this is Miss Laura Howlett, your new tutor."

"It's very nice to meet you, Nathan," I offered my hand to him again. But instead of shaking it, he crossed his arms against his chest and scowled.

"I want my mother!" he yelled.

Mortified, his father kneeled in front of him and spoke through gritted teeth, "We've talked about this, Nate. Don't be difficult!"

"But papa, momma always-"

"I don't want to hear it, Nathan!" Summers barked, startling the child. He closed his eyes for a moment and exhaled sharply, then stood up and spoke in a calmer tone, "Be nice to Miss Howlett, and I'll take you to see the horses when I get home."

The boy, who had just been on the verge of tears, seemed completely resigned after hearing that innocent bribery. "You promise?"

"I promise," the sheriff answered, a proud smile appearing on his face. "I have to go now, son, or I'll be late for work," he said, turning to me next. "His Aunt Lorna should be here by lunchtime. If you could stay with him until then…"

"Don't worry, sheriff, I don't have anywhere else to be in the mornings," I replied, glimpsing at the child. Nathan was watching me intently, his forehead creased.

"Thank you, Miss Howlett," Summers handed me an envelope which I supposed had my payment for the week. "Nate's bronchitis syrup is in the kitchen in case he has a coughing crisis. Oh, and before I forget, I'm going to need to see your reference papers. You can leave them on the table, I'll look them over this evening," he required, putting on his vest and heading to the door.

I blinked. "My-My references?"

The sheriff halted and spun around to face me. "Yes. I mean, you do have a teaching certification, don't you?" he asked. I felt his eyes scrutinizing me.

"O-Of course!" I responded, adding one more story to the pile of lies that my life had become. "I just… forgot to bring the papers with me, that's all."

I could see the apprehension leaving his face. "That's all right," he smiled relieved. "You can bring them tomorrow."

Where in God's name was I going to get those papers, I had no idea. But it was too late to come up with a better excuse, so I pushed my nervousness away and managed to smile back. "Okay."

"Okay," Sheriff Summers's eyes lingered on mine for an extra moment. "So… Thank you again for agreeing to help us, Miss Howlett," he put on his hat and tipped it in my direction, then pecked the top of his son's head. "See you later, kiddo."

As soon as the front door closed, Nathan tugged at my sleeve and asked, "What am I thinking?"

I was still a little shaken by his father's unexpected request. "P-Pardon me?"

"If you're really a mind-reader, Miss Howlett, what is it I'm thinking right now?"

The boy was testing me, of course… and whose fault was that? I mentally admonished myself for having invented another lie, especially one that didn't concern my safety. Like I said, I had zero experience with children.

But I had to try.

"You're thinking that you'd rather be taught by your momma than by me," I replied, because that was obvious. Nathan's eyes turned from inquisitive to gloomy, and again I admonished myself, this time for my callousness. "But…" I added before he could throw another tantrum, "I'm going to prove to you that I'm a fun tutor." I sat on a chair and palmed the seat next to me. "Sit."

To my surprise, the boy obeyed. I picked up his English literacy book to see where he and his mother had stopped. In the meantime, he started sketching on his notebook. That gave me an idea.

"I want you to make a really nice drawing of your favorite thing in the world."

He looked at me as if I were completely crazy. "You want me to draw?"

"Yes. It's part of your tutoring."

Nathan shrugged his shoulders. "Okay." He turned the pages on his notebook until he found one that was completely blank.

"I love horses too, you know?" I said before his pencil could touch the paper.

His head whipped in my direction. "How did you know I was going to draw a horse?" I patted my right temple in response. He blushed. "Oh… right."

Nathan spent the next ten minutes illustrating a scenery that consisted of a man and a boy riding a horse, and a woman behind a tree. It was a pretty decent drawing for a nine-year-old.

"Now," I pointed to the next blank page, "you're going to describe in words what you've just drawn so I can understand what it is."

His eyes widened. "You want me to write everything down?"

"No, of course not. Only the things you like the most in the scene."

"But I like everything in the scene!" he whined.

"Then… you better start writing, Nate."

"Humph."

I found his little pout adorable, and once again I caught myself wondering how a mother could have left her son behind. I knew that I shouldn't be judgmental, given that I was a liar and a murderer… but abandoning a child was definitely something I could never do. Life was really unfair, I decided.

While Nathan was busy writing, I assessed his recent studies in Math, Geography and History. I could tell that Madelyne had a strict method of teaching – she followed the literacy books page by page, correcting every little mistake and adding notes to the side. Effective as that might be, I could foresee both Nathan and I dying from boredom before the end of the week if we sticked to that path. I had promised him fun, and that's what I was going to deliver.

I checked his writing when he was over. A few spelling errors and incorrect verb-forms, but nothing major; considering his age, I was actually surprised by the quality of his sentences. However, what surprised me the most was finding out that the woman on the drawing was not his momma, but his Auntie Lorna.

"She's the best! She always plays hide and seek with me!" he told me. I didn't know the lady, but I liked her already.

I had brought Kitty's copy of Hans Christian Andersen's Complete Fairy Tales with me. I asked Nathan to read the first pages of The Ugly Duckling aloud, which he did –unwillingly at first, then more interested as the story unfolded. "We'll read a couple of pages a day," I told him. He agreed.

We spent the rest of the morning working on a few other abilities and getting to know each other. More than once, Nathan tried to corner me with "what am I thinking" questions, but I managed to evade them. I asked what he wanted to do when he grew up, which was being a sheriff and a cowboy; for his turn, he asked me if I had a husband. I replied that I didn't. Lying was becoming easier each passing minute.

It was half past noon when his aunt arrived.

"Hi. You must be Nate's new tutor. I'm Lorna."

Lorna seemed to be a few years younger than me. She was very pretty, with ash brown hair that looked greenish depending on the light and the saddest hazel eyes I had ever seen. I shook her outstretched hand. "Laura Howlett. Nice to meet you."

"Likewise. How did this young mister behave?" she inquired while ruffling the boy's fine brown hair affectionately.

"He's been great," I responded truthfully. "Nathan's very clever."

"He is, isn't he?" she smiled, but the smile failed to reach her eyes. Examining her closely, I noticed some puffiness under her orbs. Clearly, the girl had been crying.

Nate's belly grumbled, and I took that as my cue to leave.

"I guess that's all for today," I declared and began to gather my belongings.

"Would you like to stay for lunch?" Lorna offered.

"Thank you, but I'm not hungry. You two enjoy your meal," I said. "See you tomorrow, Nathan."

"Bye, Miss Howlett."

They escorted me to the porch, and when the door closed behind me, it felt like a weight had been lifted off of my shoulders. Tutoring that boy hadn't been nearly as hard as I'd thought it would be; on the contrary, it had proved to be quite pleasant.

I had agreed to meet Kitty at her school so we could walk home together. Feeling happy with myself for the first time in a long while, I opened my parasol and started heading in that direction when I heard someone calling.

"Miss Howlett, wait! Wait, please!"

I turned around, and to my utter bewilderment I found myself facing Warren Worthington. He had hurried up across the street to catch me.

"Hi," he took off his topper and bowed to me. "I apologize if I've startled you, ma'am. I just wanted to introduce myself," he explained, a bright smile on his handsome face.

"You don't have to. I know who you are, Mr. Worthington," I said.

His smile broadened. "Oh! I guess we're acquainted, then," he put the hat back on his head. "How're your brother and niece?"

"They're very well, thank you."

"I'm glad to hear it," Worthington replied, his charming grin never wavering as he looked me over. "I see you've accepted my humble welcome-to-town gifts."

I realized I was wearing one of the dresses he had sent to me, and also that I hadn't yet thanked him.

"Y-Yes, thank you so much!" I stuttered, completely ashamed of my lack of manners. I smoothed down my skirt, feeling its soft fabric. "The dresses are beautiful."

"Only because it's you wearing them, Miss Howlett," the businessman declared coquettishly.

Months ago, I would have expertly flirted back with Worthington if that had meant boosting my husband's career. But now that I was free of Jason's influence, I could perceive how inappropriate it was to lead on a married man. I may be a wanted criminal, but I had no intention of repeating my mistakes.

"As much as I appreciate the gifts, Mr. Worthington, you didn't need to bother giving me anything," I stated, purposely ignoring his compliment.

"Oh, but it's been my pleasure, Miss Howlett. Besides, having a lovely lady like yourself walking around in a Worthington's Depot's outfit ought to be excellent for business. I'm sure we'll be selling gowns like never before in the next weeks," he justified. "Just so you know, my stock's entirely at your disposal. Come look for me whenever you like."

I was sure his good looks and money had conquered many ladies' hearts, but I refused to become a number on his adultery list. "That's very kind of you, sir, and I do appreciate the gesture, but I own enough gowns for the time being. I'll be happy to tell other ladies where to buy them, though."

He opened his mouth to retort, but my resolute stance must have made him change his mind. "I'll appreciate if you do that, Miss Howlett. May I walk with you?"

"Ya may not."

"Logan!"

Neither Worthington nor I had noticed him approaching us. James was nearly one head shorter than the blonde millionaire, but what he lacked in height he made up for in mean looks and intimidation.

Warren gave one step back. "Another time, perhaps. Farewell, Miss Howlett. Mr. Howlett," he tipped his topper and left.

I turned to Logan. "What are you doing here?"

"What ya told me to do – findin' some hired hand."

As we walked together to Kitty's school, James told me about the new boy who would be helping him and Peter with the ranch's chores, and I told him about my morning.

"Where am I going to get reference papers, Logan?"

"Don't fret about it, darlin'," he replied.

After dinner, Katherine handed me a letter written in a flourish calligraphy certifying that Miss Laura Howlett possessed all the required skills to tutor children all over the Canadian territory. It was even stamped with the Alberta District's seal. I gaped at her.

"H-How?"

"Me and dad are the best there is at what we do, Jean. That's all you need to know," she winked at me.

On the following day, I presented the document to Sheriff Summers, who seemed satisfied with my forged references. Nathan read more of The Ugly Duckling, then we moved to Geography. I unfolded a map of The United States over the table.

"That's not part of the book," he noted.

"If you're going to be a sheriff, you'll need to know the land you'll patrol, mister," I reasoned.

We went through the states, its capitals and main cities. To make things more interesting, I threw in some Math and made him calculate distances. While he determined the miles between Austin and Houston, I quickly estimated how far I was from Springfield. Seven hundred miles. I had put seven hundred miles between me and my crime, and still Jason had managed to send the Marshall in the right direction.

Lorna arrived a bit later that afternoon.

"I'm so sorry I'm late," she apologized. She looked weary.

"Are you alright?" I asked her.

"I-I'm fine," she lied. We barely knew each other, so I didn't insist.

When I left that afternoon, I saw Victor Creed chatting with Marshall Lehnsherr by the post office; as soon as he spotted me, he stopped talking and instead followed me with those mean eyes of his until I turned the street corner. I had to remind myself that nobody knew my true identity in Fredericksburg.

The following day was uneventful, but on Friday morning the sheriff surprised me by inquiring how long I had been a teacher.

"Two years," I answered, because that was what the fake papers stated. "Why? Has Nathan complained about my methods?"

"No, not at all," Summers responded. "Nate likes your teaching a lot, actually. But… well, it seems that no one knew about your existence until a couple of months ago. Your brother never mentioned you to anyone in town before."

I wondered if the sheriff had been investigating me; if so, I had to be extra careful around him. "Well, I can't blame Logan; I was only a child when he left Alberta," I told him, adding in a sad tone, "I wasn't supposed to move to Fredericksburg. Back home, there was someone… someone I loved. We were engaged but then… God decided to take him away from me."

"The horse accident – I heard about it. I'm sorry for your loss, Miss Howlett," Summers said. "I hope your wrist's healed by now."

He had been investigating me, I concluded. I tried to conceal my nervousness and to remain impassive as I replied, "It is. Thank you."

The sheriff looked down, suddenly embarrassed. "I just realized I've never apologized for barging into McCoy's pharmacy while he tended to you that day," he recalled, then gazed up at my face. "I'm very sorry, Miss Howlett. Believe me, I'm usually not that rude. It's just that Nate was having one of his coughing attacks, and I was desperate."

"It's okay, sheriff. There's no need to apologize," I gave him a small smile to prove that he hadn't offended me. I had to make him like me.

"Nathan's got a very fragile physical condition, as you must've noticed," I nodded at his remark, and he went on, "He almost died from the flu when he was a newborn, and his health only deteriorated after he contracted the smallpox at the age of six."

"Poor baby. Is that the reason why he can't have contact with other children?" I inquired.

Summers nodded. "Initially, yes. After Nate overcame the flu, Dr. McCoy gave us strict orders not to let him near anyone who might be sick until he was older. We did that and managed to keep him safe for years. But then, on his first week of school, Nathan caught the smallpox… he nearly died again," the sheriff revealed, his voice filled with emotion. "I know that a boy his age should be out in the street playing with other kids. But I can't risk it, Miss Howlett. My son is all I have now."

I almost felt sorry for the man. Then I remembered he was the law, and that the law was trying to get me hanged. I needed to keep my emotions in check.

"I understand it, sheriff. But you still got your sister, right?"

"Lorna is not really my sister," Summers said, taking me by surprise. "My father-," he pointed to the portrait on the chimney breast, "Major Christopher Summers- found her wandering the streets of San Angelo when she was only eleven. He brought her home and raised her as his own child until he passed away from an old war wound a few years later. Alex and I -mostly I, I guess- have been looking after her since."

"I see," I voiced.

"Don't get me wrong, Miss Howlett – I care for Lorna like a sister, the same way Logan must care for you," he supposed, and I couldn't help but think he couldn't be more mistaken. "But Lorna's taken my brother's leaving quite badly, and I'm afraid I haven't been able to reach her lately."

He sounded guilty, and this time I did feel sorry for him. "You already have your hands full with Nathan," I commented.

"I certainly do. That's why I really appreciate your help, Miss Howlett. I'm aware that your brother holds a grudge against me… I hope he hasn't been giving you a hard time for having accepted this job."

"Don't worry about Logan, sheriff. He's a little pigheaded, but I know how to deal with him," I replied, smiling. "As for Lorna… I've noticed that she's been crying a lot – I didn't know why, but now that I do, I'll try to talk to her… see if I can help her somehow," I offered.

"That would be nice. I imagine that Lorna could really use a friend now."

"I'll let you know if she tells me anything worrisome."

"Thank you."

Nathan arrived for his classes and the sheriff left for work. My young pupil was particularly difficult that morning, crying for his mother and refusing to do whatever activity I proposed. To make things worse, Lorna arrived late again from work, and I found myself preparing a sandwich so that Nathan could have something to eat for lunch.

"I'm sorry, Laura," Lorna said. I thought I had smelled alcohol in her breath, but I couldn't tell for sure. I was tired and beyond nervous since I had found out that Sheriff Summers had been investigating me. I had my own problems to deal with, and I just wanted to get out of there.

Kitty was going to sleep at her friend Danielle's house that night. I didn't feel like waiting for one of the boys to pick me up at the train station as usual, so I headed straight home. I was almost reaching the ranch when someone blocked my way.

"So… ya're the runt's sis. Or so ya say," Victor Creed spoke, a malicious grin making him look even scarier.

"W-What do you want?" I asked. I glanced sideways, hoping to see someone on the road, but no one was around.

He circled me like a hunter circles a prey. "I want ya to admit what ya are… who ya are."

I felt my heart racing in my chest. "I-I uh… I-I don't know what you're talking about, mister."

He took one step closer, and I suddenly regretted not having listened to Logan when he told me not to walk home alone. "Say it, frail. Say ya're the runt's little bitch, so I can have even more fun with ya."

Instead of retorting, I tried to reach the revolver in my handbag, but Creed slapped my hand away and grabbed my arms. I panicked, thinking, 'Not again.'

All of a sudden, I heard the cocking of a gun. "Leave Miss Laura alone!"

Samuel Guthrie, the boy James had recently hired, was pressing a rifle against Creed's temple. Behind him, Peter was also pointing his revolver at the brute.

Creed slowly let me go. "Ya got lucky this time, frail, but this ain't over," he smirked down at me. "I can smell a lie miles away, and I can tell ya're a little lyin' slut," he hissed. Then he eyed both boys with hatred and left.

"Ya okay, Miss Laura?" Sam asked me.

Trembling, I hugged him and Pete. "Y-Yes, thanks to you. How did you know I was in trouble?"

"Mr. Howlett told us to keep an eye on the road when he left this morning. When we saw Creed lurking around, we decided to hide in the corn fields and wait," Peter explained.

Shaken, I let them escort me to the ranch house. I ran a bath and let my tears fall until I felt empty inside. Then I changed into a nightgown and went to bed, leaving my gun on the bedside table.

It was already night when I heard a soft knock on the door. I knew who it was.

"Hey, Red," James said softly. I expected him to be mad at me, but he looked concerned. "Ya're alright?"

I shook my head, feeling my eyes tearing up. "No, Logan," I replied. The week had been too tense, and I was tired of being strong. "I'm not alright."

He pulled me into his arms. "It's okay, darlin'. I'm here now," he whispered, caressing my hair.

I hugged him back, finally feeling safe. After a moment, I pulled away only enough to gaze into his eyes. "Kiss me, Logan."

"W-What?"

"Kiss me now," I insisted.

He hesitated. "Jeannie, we shouldn't-"

I held his head with my hands and leaned in, brushing my lips on his. I could sense James trying to stop me and be the honorable man I knew he was. But I didn't want honorable, I just wanted him to be a man. So I pressed my chest against his and let my tongue explore his mouth.

I felt Logan giving in under my caresses. Eyes locked in mine, he picked me up and carried me to bed. We shed each other's clothes and allowed ourselves to be completely happy for one night.