Chapter 2
Brady, Texas
February 5, 1881
Signaling the bartender, Sam, for another round of whiskeys for the table, Wyatt settled back in his chair and idly watched Rufus deftly shuffle and deal the worn cards. Glancing around the room, he exchanged friendly nods here and there with a few men he knew. Felt to him like a typical Saturday night at the only saloon in Brady...if Wyatt didn't dwell on the real reason he'd come to town after supper specifically at Gran's request.
Huh, more like a very politely-worded order, actually–not that it changed the end result, he mused, mildly chagrined at his apparent inability (just like her husband's) to ever deny Betsy Sherwin anything. Probably best, though, to keep that piece of information to himself or Rufus and Dave would torment him the hell out of him over the next hour or so until the stage was due to arrive. Bad enough they'd figure out something was up with Wyatt when he left their company earlier than usual on a Saturday night.
Bluish wisps of cigar smoke hung over most of the round tables and the low rumble of masculine voices mingled with the high-pitched laughter of the girls working this evening as town residents and men from outlying ranches alike relaxed with a few drinks and a friendly hand (or two) of Texas Hold'em. Still early in the evening yet, so the atmosphere was calm enough for the moment-though things very seldom got too out of hand because the saloon owner, an attractive older redhead named Emma Whitmore, wouldn't tolerate bad behavior from any of her customers.
Wyatt leisurely thumbed through the cards in his hand. Hmm...pair of Kings and a pair of Twos. Wasn't his worst hand of the evening so far, but definitely not a sure winner, either, especially when he was playing with his best friends-both of whom were pretty damn ruthless when it came to poker. Looking up from the cards, he shook his head at the fetching, long-legged brunette sitting on Dave's lap, giggling and whispering in his ear.
As Gran was fond of saying, bless her heart. Fairly new to Brady, Cassie had immediately taken a shine to his friend. It was clear from her behavior that she still hadn't figured out yet the smooth-talking town sheriff was a dyed-in-the-wool bachelor, and therefore, extremely unlikely to save a girl in her line of work from a "life of sin" (the preacher's words–not Wyatt's) by marrying her. Of course, to a man like Dave who'd always considered himself successful with the ladies, that insignificant little detail didn't mean he couldn't or shouldn't enjoy being the center of Cassie's rapt attention whenever possible...at least until a hawk-eyed Miss Emma invariably caught on and reprimanded the girl for not 'circulating' amongst the other customers.
Unfortunately for Cassie and her rather naive hopes, oddly enough, the sheriff's long-time unmarried status might be changing in the near future after all. Not long after the first of the year, his friend boldly declared he had his eye on the preacher's niece who was visiting over the winter from Ohio or Pennsylvania or maybe it was somewhere up north. Now Wyatt had to admit, Miss Julie Spencer was quite pretty, with wavy blonde hair and big green eyes, but while the lady had smiled in his direction once or twice since coming to town, he hadn't felt the slightest spark of interest. And why would he? It hadn't even been two years yet since he'd lost Jess for God's sake...
"C'mon, Wyatt, you've been staring a hole in those cards for ages," Rufus complained, interrupting his thoughts. "Are you gonna play poker or what?" Wyatt grinned and shrugged apologetically before casually tossing a couple more coins on the modest pile in the center of the table. The play went around the table until eventually Wyatt folded. The frown of concentration on his friend's face quickly turned into a triumphant grin when he called the sheriff's bluff and won the hand. As he scooped the winnings towards him and began neatly stacking the coins, Rufus cocked his head and gazed at Wyatt thoughtfully for what seemed like an awkwardly long moment.
"So, what's going on with you tonight?" he finally asked, pushing the cards towards Dave for the next deal. "You've been kind of distracted since you got here. Hey, is everything okay at the ranch and with your folks?" Wyatt smiled at the genuine concern he heard in the other's man's voice. Unlike Dave, who settled in Brady as town sheriff only a couple years earlier after serving alongside Wyatt as a fellow Captain with the Rangers, Rufus knew the Sherwins quite well, having lived here since he was a baby when his father moved their family to Brady to open a smithy and livery stable. The two men had grown up together, and there was no one Wyatt trusted more (besides his grandpa).
Sipping at his whiskey, he mentally debated confiding in his friend while Dave was distracted with Cassie. Luckily, Wyatt was saved from responding when he spotted Miss Emma heading in their direction with a none-too-happy expression on her face. "Uh, Dave, you probably better let Cassie get back to work before she gets in trouble," Wyatt warned in a low voice, but it was too late. Seconds later, Emma had parked herself at Dave's elbow and effectively dismissed her employee with an abrupt jerk of her head. With an injured sniff, the brunette reluctantly slid off the sheriff's lap and flounced away. From the peeved look on her boss's face as she gazed after the girl, young Cassie was probably in for a sharp dressing down before the evening was over.
"Evening, gentleman," Emma greeted them sweetly once Cassie was out of hearing, favoring Wyatt and Rufus with a pleasant smile before directing an aggravated frown at Dave, who shifted uneasily in his chair. It was well known in Brady the saloon owner had quite a temper. He and Rufus exchanged grins but made no attempt to help out their friend. "Now Sheriff Baumgardner, what have I told you before about coming in here and monopolizing my girls?" Emma reproved in a stinging tone. "These young ladies are paid good money to keep all of my customers happy, not just you."
The scolding went on for another minute or two until luckily for his friend, the sound of breaking glass from the other side of the room caught the redhead's attention and she rushed off without another word, leaving the unhappy sheriff to sit and lick his wounds. "Damn, fellows, that is one scary woman," Dave muttered under his breath, much to his friends' amusement, and began shuffling the cards.
Another couple hands later, Wyatt was up nearly two dollars, so the evening wasn't a total loss, in his opinion. Reaching into his pants pocket, he furtively pulled out the gold watch his grandparents had given Wyatt on his 18th birthday and snapped open the cover. It was after 7:00 o'clock, which was admittedly a little late for the stage to be coming through Brady, but nothing to get too worked up about quite yet, he considered. Wyatt closed the cover and hastily shoved the watch into his pocket, but not unseen as he hoped, glancing up to see Rufus watching him suspiciously.
"Okay, now I know something is definitely going on, because you're looking at your watch and frowning like you have somewhere else to be–and I'd bet my winnings that it's not sitting here playing poker with us," he accused, putting down his cards and diverting Dave's sullen attention from his own hand. Now both men were staring curiously at Wyatt, and it was obvious they were prepared to wait him out.
Dammit. With a resigned sigh, Wyatt picked up his whiskey and tried to buy himself some time before grudgingly admitting that Gran had asked him to meet the stage tonight and pick up the new teacher the school board had hired from the women's college over in Belton. For a few seconds, both men were silent...but then busted out laughing. Hand tightening around the glass, Wyatt felt his cheeks redden in embarrassment at his friends' unmistakable glee. Where was that damn stage and why did it have to be running late this evening?
Naturally, Rufus couldn't let this go and began teasing him about how this "errand" of his sounded a whole lot like another one of his grandma's never-ending attempts at finding Wyatt a new wife, while Dave's expression brightened considerably at the thought of another (pretty and hopefully unmarried) woman moving into town. Unsurprisingly, the man immediately began asking all kinds of questions about the unknown teacher that of course he had no answers for–until Wyatt glared at him fiercely and set his glass down on the table with perhaps a little more force than was necessary.
"Alright, alright, no need to be so huffy," Rufus soothed, all the while smirking at Dave. "We know what a good son you are to Miss Betsy. I just think you should have been honest with your best friends from the get go is all." The innocent expression on the other man's face might've convinced Wyatt he'd injured their feelings except for the wicked gleam in his friend's dark eyes.
Leaning back in his chair, Dave took his time lighting a cigar before eying Wyatt coolly. "Rufus is right, Captain Logan. You've been sitting here playing cards for a couple hours now without telling us a damn thing. In my book, that's holding out on your best friends, and frankly, not something an honorable man does–especially when it's important information like a new female coming to live here."
Now Wyatt was the one shifting around in his chair, feeling his temper start to rise. "Look, Gran got the telegram yesterday afternoon saying a female teacher was arriving on today's stage and her name is Lucy Preston. I swear, that's all I know," Wyatt protested somewhat defensively, throwing his cards down on the table in exasperation. He loved these men like brothers and would gladly take a bullet for either one, but Jesus, they could be irritating at times–especially when they got it in their heads to gang up on him.
Thankfully for his rapidly waning patience, above the noise in the crowded saloon came the distinct sounds of the stage coming around the bend on the far end of town. Finally, he thought, grateful for the reprieve from being interrogated by his friends. Hastily scooping up his winnings and shoving the money in his pocket, Wyatt jumped up and drained the rest of his whiskey before grabbing his hat off the table and hurrying toward the swinging doors without giving the other two men a second thought.
Once outside, he stuck the hat on his head and took a deep breath (or two) of the cool, fresh winter air, not surprised in the least when a predictably nosy Rufus and Dave burst through the doors behind him, practically knocking each other over in their eagerness to see the mystery woman Wyatt was meeting. Ignoring them, he strode briskly down the wooden sidewalk towards the mercantile where the Sherwin's rig waited. A few people were already waiting for the stage as the driver pulled it to a rocking stop, the horses tossing their heads and stamping their feet.
Coming to a halt beside his grandpa's horse and patting the chestnut bay's neck fondly, Wyatt absently noticed one of the men wrestling with a large, apparently quite heavy trunk that had been lashed securely to the back of the stage while the other had jumped down to help their passengers disembark. Even as he moved to assist the man with the trunk, the driver offered his hand to the person stepping forward, and Wyatt stopped in his tracks as a stout, gray-haired passenger filled the open door.
He'd never admit it to his friends–not even under torture–but for some odd reason he didn't care to examine too closely, his heart sank just a little at first...until Wyatt realized he recognized the first passenger getting off the stage. Evidently, one of his friends did not, however, and he smirked when from behind him came a muffled (but still clearly dismayed), aww, hell, from the sheriff–seemingly less than impressed with what Wyatt assumed was Dave's first glimpse of the new school teacher.
While it was extremely tempting to let his friend stew in his silly, shallow disappointment a little while longer, Wyatt nonetheless swiftly turned his head and hissed, "That's Miss Clara's sister, Miss Constance, come to visit for a few months, you manner-less oaf," biting back a grin when Rufus self-righteously elbowed their disgruntled friend and echoed, "Yeah, show some respect, you manner-less oaf." He politely touched the brim of his hat at the older lady, who recognized Wyatt after a moment and gave him a weary smile before she spotted her sister and brother-in-law standing nearby.
Turning his attention back to the stage, Wyatt was startled to see a rather shapely female rear slowly backing out the open door. What the? Exchanging a puzzled glance with the bemused driver, he instinctively began to step toward the stage when the passenger lost her balance and with a faint yelp, started to fall backwards. Wyatt sprang forward and caught her securely just in time. Holding her slender body against him, his senses instantly became aware of several things all at once. The young, dark-haired woman in his arms was soft and warm and she smelled really, really good. Shockingly, Wyatt felt everything (and everyone) around him fading away as he stared into her beautiful wide brown eyes for a long moment.
The strange spell was broken when Rufus cleared his throat rather forcefully. Looking away from the slight feminine bundle he was probably holding far too tightly, Wyatt's face crimsoned when he noticed belatedly that not just his friends, but the stage driver and his helper were also staring at him. His embarrassment grew stronger when the woman trembled ever so slightly, and placing a small gloved hand on his chest, murmured breathlessly, "Thank you for kindly catching me, sir. My name is Lucy Preston, I'm the new school teacher...and, uh, you can put me down now."
The young woman in his arms was the new teacher? Wyatt's surprise was so great, he nearly dropped her. Thank God he didn't because if Gran found out her grandson had treated a woman so shabbily, there'd definitely be hell to pay in the Sherwin house tonight. Hurriedly setting the teacher on her feet, he stepped back and tipping his hat, answered gruffly, "Yes, Ma'am."
Wyatt's heart began to beat faster at the tentative smile Miss Preston gave him. What the hell was happening here? He hadn't done so much as look at an eligible woman in nearly two years, and here this little slip of a female he just met seemed to be getting under his skin. Wyatt could feel his friends watching him closely and prayed he didn't look as shook up as he felt...
Nervously smoothing her heavy skirts, an exhausted, disheveled Lucy took a deep breath (or two) and prayed she didn't look as flustered as she felt. How exceedingly clumsy of her to try and drag the heavy tapestry bag from the corner by herself and nearly fall backward out of the stagecoach in front of perfect strangers. Her finishing school instructors would be appalled. In hindsight, Lucy realized she probably should've just taken the driver's hand and stepped from the coach in a refined manner and then asked the man to retrieve the bag for her. What a terrible first impression she must be making on these people...
She supposed it was quite fortunate (and of course, at the same time, quite mortifying) that Lucy had fallen backwards out of the stage into the strong arms of one of the handsomest men she'd ever seen–tall with broad shoulders, and possessing a pair of dark blue eyes that watched her intently. He smelled very nice, too. Wordlessly gazing up at the man, Lucy shivered faintly. The dark-haired stranger looked exactly like what she'd always imagined a real Texas cowboy would, she thought whimsically before mentally shaking her head at the girlish notion.
Focus, Lucy, you're most likely making a fool of yourself...Bad enough she must look an absolute fright on top of acting like the gauche, inexperienced traveler she was. Everything about her person-hair, skin, clothes-felt as if she was covered head to toe in a fine cloud of reddish grit from traveling hour after hour in an open stagecoach across what seemed like half the state of Texas, and she found herself longing for a hot bath, hopefully followed by a hot meal. First, though, Lucy must find her benefactor, Mrs. Sherwin. Struggling to remain calm and composed, she gathered up the remnants of her tattered dignity and straightened her shoulders proudly.
"Would any of you gentlemen happen to know where I can find a Mrs. James Sherwin?" she asked politely, taken aback when two of the three men waiting looked at each other and started laughing rather loudly. Well, my goodness, that seems quite rude. As Lucy stared at them in bewilderment, thankfully, the gallant cowboy stepped closer.
"Please ignore my ignorant friends, Ma'am. I assure you they're annoying but harmless jackasses," he drawled in a deep voice, frowning at the other two men, who grinned and shrugged unrepentantly. Favoring her with an easy smile, he introduced himself as Wyatt Logan and his friends as Rufus Carlin, town blacksmith and owner of the livery stable, and Sheriff Dave Baumgardner. Lucy's cheeks warmed uncomfortably at the blatant interest she couldn't help but notice in the lawman's expression as he looked her over. Unconsciously, she inched a little closer to Mr. Logan.
"As it happens, you're in luck, Ma'am, because Mrs. Sherwin is my grandmother, and the fact is, she sent me here to meet you." Good grief, were those dimples? Lucy's stomach fluttered in response–but whether it was from relief or nerves or hunger, she had no idea. All she knew for certain was that in her exhausted, vulnerable state of mind, Mr. Logan's azure eyes and dimples were positively mesmerizing.
His smile turned quickly to a concerned frown when Lucy involuntarily swayed on her feet. "Here now, we're standing around talking, Miss Preston, and you must be plumb worn out from your journey." Evidently the cowboy was used to giving orders, because within seconds, his friends were tipping their hats politely and loading her trunk and bag in the back of the handsome buggy Mr. Logan led her to. Bidding the men goodbye, he gently but securely cupped Lucy's elbow and helped her up into the rig. Once she got herself settled on the narrow leather seat, he gracefully climbed in and sat beside her. Skillfully flicking the reins, Mr. Logan turned the buggy and they smoothly moved forward in the chilly early evening air.
Neither one spoke as the horse found and kept a steady gait. Even tired (and possibly a little overwhelmed) as she was by the events of her very long day, Lucy was acutely aware of the man beside her, the warmth of his broad shoulder pressed firmly against her smaller one-even through their coats-the crisp tang of his masculine scent...woodsy, maybe a little musky? she wondered, inhaling discreetly.
Her mind and body practically numb with fatigue, Lucy had no idea why Wyatt Logan was having such a powerful effect on her. Perhaps it was the result of spending so much of her time around mostly women since arriving in Texas over five years ago. It occurred to Lucy that the likely answer was because the last time she'd been in such close contact with any man at all was back in San Francisco when she was being courted by Dr. Noah Cooke, her first (and only beau). They were introduced at her father's annual New Year's Eve party mere weeks before she turned 18, and a dazzled Lucy was smitten from the second the tall, dashing young doctor raised her gloved hand to his warm lips...
Flashback
San Francisco
New Years Eve 1873
The spacious, high-ceilinged Preston ballroom was brilliantly lit with hundreds of slim ivory tapers and the heavy scent of fresh-cut flowers perfumed the air. Although outside a chilly, misty fog fell over Nob Hill and the rest of the "city by the bay" this evening, it was rather warm inside–and getting warmer by the minute as the ballroom began to fill. Standing alongside her father at the top of the wide, graceful staircase to the second floor ballroom politely greeting their guests (many of whom she'd known all her life), Lucy's slippered foot tapped restlessly under the heavy skirt of the primrose yellow satin ball gown she wore. All day long, she'd been filled with nervous anticipation for her first real society event as a grownup young lady.
Offering each guest a pleasant smile, Lucy tried to curb her growing impatience with the never ending line of handsomely dressed people coming through the imposing double doors that opened into the black and white tiled foyer in pairs and small groups and slowly making their way up the steps to where the Prestons waited. Papa's annual New Years Eve gala was a San Francisco society tradition, and it seemed to her as if everyone on the distinguished (lengthy) guest list had accepted their invitation.
Adding to her tedium was the bevy of familiar faces, almost all of whom she'd seen numerous times over the past two weeks during the countless holiday parties her father–and naturally, by extension, Lucy–was obliged to attend. Although not noted as such on the fancy invitations, this evening's festivities, while technically in celebration of the coming year, also happened to be Miss Lucy Anne Preston's official coming out party. Even though Henry Preston was a loving father and of course exceedingly generous with his only child, he was at the same time a very successful banker who possessed a shrewd financial acumen and saw no need for a second lavish function in a matter of weeks.
Eventually, the receiving line trickled to a mere handful of guests and then one or two stragglers. Lucy shivered in delight at the sound of the orchestra members tuning their instruments floating through the ballroom doors, but before she could even ask, Papa bent down and murmured, "Almost done, little one, and then your special evening will be officially under way." Despite the affectionate twinkle in the soft brown eyes Henry had passed down to his only child, Lucy's cheeks warmed at her tall, dignified father noticing her childish impatience. After all, she was almost 18, practically a woman...
"Oh, no, Papa, I'm having a wonderful time already," she protested solemnly, peeping up at him under her lashes and hoping her little 'white' lie would pass muster. No such luck. Narrowing his eyes at her, Henry's hearty laughter rang out, telling Lucy in no uncertain terms that he didn't believe her for a second. Oh, how she adored her father...
Several interminably long minutes later after (hopefully) the last guest had been welcomed, father and daughter were alone at last. Lucy's heart felt like it was about to beat out of her tightly corseted chest, she was so excited now that the most important party of her life was about to begin. "Well, Miss Preston, shall we?" Papa asked with an indulgent smile. Lucy nodded so enthusiastically, she could feel her dark curls, artfully arranged by her maid with yellow rosebuds and matching velvet ribbons on the top of her head, bouncing. Eagerly taking the arm Papa gallantly offered her, they turned toward the ballroom.
Before taking more than a couple steps, however, the Prestons heard the brass doorknocker hanging on the front door thud heavily, signaling the arrival of a latecomer to the party. Henry fixed a polite smile on his face and pretended not to hear his daughter's quiet sigh. Lucy's frustration at the delay was instantly forgotten when she caught sight of the elegantly-dressed young man coming up the staircase.
Beside her, Papa stepped forward with a warm smile, offering his hand to the man. "Noah? Noah Cooke? Is that you? What a pleasant surprise...I had no idea you'd returned to San Francisco." While Lucy stood quietly with a serene smile waiting to be properly introduced, her clever mind was busily cataloging every detail of the guest's appearance–very much liking what she saw. About the same height as her father (maybe an inch taller), with neatly-combed light brown hair and mustache, she guessed Mr. Cooke was older than her, possibly in his mid twenties.
"Actually, I'm lucky enough to be called 'Doctor' Cooke now," their guest replied with a modest shrug. "Once I completed my education at Harvard, I was able to secure a position here at home at St. Mary's Medical Center. As you can imagine, my parents were quite pleased to have their only child back in San Francisco." Her father laughed in agreement before turning to introduce Lucy.
"Congratulations, son, and I completely understand their feelings. Well, then, 'Doctor' Cooke, may I introduce you to my only child, my daughter, Lucy?" Holding out her gloved hand, Lucy gazed up at Dr. Cooke with a shy smile that quickly faded when he raised her hand and gently pressed his lips to it. Lucy blushed, and against the strict confines of her corset, she felt her heart jump and begin beating wildly at the clear admiration shining in Dr. Cooke's warm grey eyes when he smiled down at her. They might have been the only two people in the world, Lucy thought in wonder. Everything after that quiet, perfect moment was hard to recall later as the rest of the evening passed in a magical haze.
The next day, Noah made quite the impression on Lucy by sending a delicate arrangement of soft yellow rosebuds–just like the ones she wore in her hair the night before, and the couple's courtship began in earnest on her 18th birthday the end of January. Sadly, though, the happiest week of her life was also the most devastating. Just after the new year, her beloved father fell ill, experiencing fatigue and random minor body aches. Despite her pleas, Henry stubbornly refused to consult his physician until the intermittent fevers began, followed by occasional coughing spells. The diagnosis was tuberculosis, more commonly referred to as 'consumption,' and thus began the worst two years of Lucy Preston's heretofore privileged life as events beyond her control took over and changed her plans.
From a young age, Lucy had wanted to become a teacher, a choice her father reluctantly supported, as he was loathe to let his only child travel halfway across the country to the women's college she applied to after finishing school. Still, Henry Preston could never deny Lucy anything her heart desired, and the arrangements had been made months ago for her to leave for central Texas in late summer to attend college and earn a degree in education before returning to California.
All of Lucy's ambitious plans were put on hold–possibly forever–however, once Papa became ill. It was with a heavy heart that she wrote to the Dean of Women's Studies at Baylor Women's College and explained the sad circumstances. She was humbled by the Dean's kind, thoughtful response that Lucy's place at the college would be held open indefinitely should she decide to continue her education.
From then on, her days were divided between caring for her gradually dying father and spending time whenever possible with Noah. Despite the tragic circumstances, the couple grew closer as the months passed, and Lucy was more grateful than she could ever articulate for his steady, calming presence in her life. Eventually, Papa passed away on a warm, sunny day in late spring of 1876. Standing at the cemetery in her black mourning clothes numbly staring down at his coffin, a heartbroken Lucy was dimly aware of Noah's strong hand under her elbow, offering her much-appreciated support.
It was a week or so later when she made the decision that would change the course of her life forever. As the lonely days slowly passed, it was more and more difficult for a grieving Lucy to live in the home she grew up in. The mansion had become a dark, lonely, frightening place without her Papa, despite the presence of devoted servants. An idea had taken hold of her lately that gave Lucy the first bit of hope and comfort since her father had been laid to rest. While it was very likely assumed by his family and the rest of San Francisco society she would marry Noah after her expected period of mourning had passed and spend her life as a doctor's wife, she just couldn't quite let go of the idea of attending college–even though deep down, Lucy doubted Noah would approve.
Her dismal theory proved to be correct shortly afterwards. She was in her room, rereading the letter from Dean Christopher and writing a response when the butler informed her that Dr. Cooke had arrived and was waiting in the blue drawing room. Lucy sighed, resolute, yet slightly apprehensive about the coming conversation. And as she'd anticipated, what followed was not pleasant. At first, Noah smiled indulgently when she hesitantly spoke of the college in Texas, quickly changing the subject and talking about their future together here in San Francisco. Despite her deep feelings for the man, a part of Lucy couldn't help but be rather disappointed by what she assumed was a (less than flattering or romantic) marriage proposal. Instead of feeling happy and relieved that her future would be secure as his wife, Lucy was offended by his superior, presumptive manner and growing angrier by the minute.
When she finally had a chance to speak up and defend herself, an obviously puzzled Noah became equally upset and strong words were exchanged by the couple. Within minutes, she was standing in the lavish drawing room by herself, his harsh words of disapproval ringing in her ears. Inhaling deeply, Lucy prayed she was making the right choice...
End Flashback
And so, after making another momentous decision, here she was in the middle of nowhere about to begin a new chapter in her life. Mr. Logan was silent as the miles passed, and without any kind of distraction from her exhaustion, Lucy felt herself getting sleepy. Turning her face and discreetly yawning into her hand, she tried her very best to stay awake, painfully aware of how impolite it would be to fall asleep on the cowboy-even if he was Mrs. Sherwin's grandson, and therefore, technically her host? She opened her mouth once or twice to make polite conversation, but regrettably, no words came out-her weary mind simply refused to cooperate. Blinking hard, the last thing Lucy thought before finally giving in to her overwhelming fatigue, her cheek coming to rest on Mr. Logan's broad shoulder, was how safe this man she just met made her feel...
A/N: And at last the lonely horse rancher and the new school teacher meet :) I'm so pleased by the nice reception this new story is receiving from readers. Thank you! I think this is the longest chapter yet, Timeless friends, but there's plenty more to come...