Chapter 4
A/N #1: Sorry it's been a little while since I last updated...got all caught up in writing my newest story, "Those Who Still Love" (yes, that's a shameless hint for readers to check it out if they haven't already, lol). Now before we travel back to 1881, a quick shout out to those guest reviewers I'm unable to respond to directly–I truly appreciate all of you who've taken the time to read and review :) Also forgot to mention earlier that I "borrowed" the names of Wyatt's grandparents (James and Betsy) for this story from one of my other fics, "First Steps." Apparently, my imagination is too dang lazy to come up with new ones :p
Sunday
Pale wintry light was tentatively encroaching on the shadowy darkness through the starched white curtains covering the large window when she opened her eyes at the distant sound of a rooster crowing. Mrs. Sullivan's rooster was more dependable than the finest watch, Lucy thought with a tired yawn, her gaze wandering around the room. Wait...this wasn't her room at the boarding house. Blinking sleepily at the unfamiliar surroundings, Lucy lay perfectly still, not quite sure in the moment where she was until the events of the past two days came rushing back...
Her unexpected meeting with Dean Christopher less than 48 hours ago in which she (rashly perhaps?) agreed on the spot to teach school for a whole year in a tiny little town located in the middle of nowhere...
A frantic afternoon and evening trying to prepare for her trip...
Enduring mile after mile of the lengthy, exhausting stagecoach ride to Brady...
The very attractive cowboy with intense blue eyes waiting to meet her...
Lucy's cheeks warmed slightly at the memory of falling asleep on her escort's broad shoulder during the ride to his grandparents' ranch. Not a good first impression, she feared. In all fairness to herself, though, she had risen well before dawn yesterday after getting very little sleep in order to meet the stagecoach coming through Belton at 6:00 a.m. and settling in for an exhausting, twelve-hour ride.
Lucy sighed. Knowing her tendency to dwell on things, she was probably fretting for no good reason because as it turned out, Mr. Logan had been quite courteous when he woke her–gallantly ignoring her embarrassment. Best to just put last night out of her mind and start fresh. After all, as long as Lucy was a guest of the Sherwins, she would probably be seeing their ruggedly handsome (most likely married) grandson on a fairly regular basis...
Her luxurious stretch was interrupted by a sharp knock on the door. Lucy hopped out of bed and hastily grabbing her wool wrapper from the foot of the bed, shrugged it on, wincing slightly at the chilly hardwood floor under her bare feet before opening the door. It was an older, somewhat stern-looking woman several inches taller than her holding a large wooden pail that steamed invitingly.
"Good morning, Miss Preston. I'm Martha, the Sherwins' housekeeper," the gray-haired woman announced briskly, stepping past Lucy and easily carrying the pail over to the stand in the corner. "Brought some fresh hot water for you to wash up with since there's no time this morning for more than that. There is a bathing room just off the kitchen, though, and I thought perhaps this evening you might enjoy a tub bath, get rid of that traveling grime from yesterday."
"Oh, that sounds heavenly," Lucy blurted out, making the housekeeper smile faintly in response. At the door, Martha informed her breakfast would be ready at 7:00 a.m. sharp but she was certainly welcome downstairs whenever she was ready to start the day with a cup of hot tea. Lucy thanked her with a grateful smile. As she began to shut the bedroom door after the woman, her eye was caught by the sight of a tall masculine figure coming down the hallway.
Why, it was Mr. Logan...did that mean he lived here with his grandparents, then? she wondered with no small amount of curiosity. Cautiously closing the door until it was just barely open, Lucy peeked through the crack and watched in fascination when he stopped in front of the housekeeper with a grin on his face and spoke to her. Whatever he said made the woman chuckle and pat his freshly-shaved cheek fondly before heading downstairs with Mr. Logan right behind her. Carefully closing the door, she leaned back against it, a hand pressed to her chest.
Perhaps there wasn't a Mrs. Logan after all, Lucy mused pensively before firmly chastising herself to stop thinking about the man–and whether or not he might have a wife. Mercy sakes, finding a husband was certainly not what she'd been hired by the good people of Brady to do, so it would be best if Lucy put the intriguing Mr. Logan out of her mind and focused her inappropriate thoughts on her new position as school teacher.
Eyeing the mussed-up bed with a frown, she quickly, efficiently made it. Guest of the house or not, Lucy was more than able to look after herself, something she'd been taught by her practical father from a very young age even though Henry employed a houseful of servants. Glad that in spite of her weariness and the late hour, she'd forced herself to unpack her belongings last night, Lucy chose a lovely pale blue shirtwaist and navy wool skirt and laid them on the bed. Thirty minutes later, she'd bathed and dressed and was brushing out her hair. Coiling and pinning the long wavy locks into a tidy knot at the back of her head, Lucy looked into the oval mirror hanging above the wash basin, smoothing back a few dark tendrils that tended to curl around her face.
Hmm...satisfactory, but still a little pale, she decided, turning slightly from side to side. Her papa had strictly forbidden the cosmetics some girls of her acquaintance had been known to use when she was growing up (to her dismay at the time). Once Lucy reached adulthood and could make her own decisions, however, she'd fortunately never seen the need for artificial enhancement, having been blessed with naturally long, dark eyelashes and a delicate complexion. Pinching the apples of her cheeks and lightly biting her lips to add a bit of color to her clean face was pretty much her entire beauty routine (although she was secretly rather vain about the thick, abundant hair inherited from her late father).
Once Lucy was finished with her toilette, she nodded in approval at the proper young lady staring back at her. Hopefully, she would make a good impression on her employers–most of whom she'd likely meet at church this morning...and possibly a certain dark-haired cowboy also? Rolling her eyes at her reflection for having such silly thoughts, Lucy hurried downstairs and walked into the ample, charmingly-furnished dining room. There she found Mrs. Sherwin seated at one end of the wide, polished oak table set for four persons, an open Bible in front of her.
"Good morning, Miss Preston," the older woman greeted her warmly, carefully closing the Bible. "I trust you slept well?" She smiled in pleasure at Lucy's ready nod. "While it's been some time since I ventured very far from this ranch or even outside Brady, I have no trouble recalling how tiresome riding on the stage can be, and I'm sure you were thoroughly exhausted by the time you retired for the evening last night," she said kindly.
Gesturing at the chair to her left, Mrs. Sherwin invited her to enjoy some hot tea while they waited on the menfolk to come in for breakfast. Correctly interpreting Lucy's curious expression, she explained that despite it being the Sabbath, this was a working ranch and their horses and the rest of the livestock must be cared for seven days a week to keep things running smoothly–a task thankfully taken over by her grandson after Mr. Sherwin broke his arm badly a little over a year ago. Lucy nodded in understanding. That must've been the reason Mr. Logan was up and dressed so early, she mused absently, thanking Martha for the steaming cup of tea the housekeeper set in front of her moments later.
The two women were immersed in a conversation about Lucy's various teaching duties and responsibilities when Mr. Sherwin entered the dining room through the swinging door that connected to the kitchen. Pausing beside his wife, he dutifully kissed the cheek she offered him with a sweet smile before taking a seat at the other end of the table to Lucy's left. "Morning, ladies. Gonna be another glorious Sabbath day," he rumbled amiably, placing a cloth napkin on his lap before asking Lucy how she slept. The door swung open again as Martha began carrying in heaping bowls and platters of delicious-smelling food, causing Lucy's neglected stomach to growl plaintively.
"James, did you speak to Wyatt before you came in?" Mrs. Sherwin asked her husband with a slight frown. "You know I don't care to be late for church services..." Just then, the door was pushed open once more but this time, it wasn't the housekeeper with more serving dishes–it was Mr. Logan, looking very presentable in a freshly-ironed white shirt and black string tie, chestnut hair falling messily over his forehead.
Stepping into the room, he cleared his throat discreetly and directed a quiet 'morning' to the room in general. Like his grandfather had, Mr. Logan stopped to press an affectionate kiss on Mrs. Sherwin's cheek before taking a seat in the chair directly across from Lucy. To her mortification, the cowboy caught her staring at him like an immature school girl. She immediately dropped her gaze to her plate, hoping no one noticed the blush heating her cheeks.
Bemused at first by the seeming mountain of food prepared for just the four of them, Lucy politely tried a bit of everything, swiftly aware it all tasted every bit as good as that served by Nora Sullivan. Goodness, if she were to stay with this family for any length of time, none of the pretty new clothes Lucy had brought with her would fit. Probably just as well that sometime in the near future she'd be living by herself in town as promised in the letter sent to Dean Christopher–unfortunately having to make do with her own rather limited cooking skills...a dismal prospect, indeed.
As the meal went on, Lucy began to relax and enjoy herself, finding the conversation around the table every bit as interesting as the food was delicious. She was surprised to feel perhaps a twinge of regret at the somber realization that when she was no longer a guest of the Sherwin family, future mealtimes would most likely be rather solitary. While the men were busy discussing horses and ranching duties and such, Mrs. Sherwin asked thoughtful (perhaps at times, she supposed, pointed) questions about Lucy's schooling and background-something she had naturally expected, considering the older woman was head of the school board who had hired her. Yes, all in all, breakfast with her hosts had turned out to be a delightful experience...
"So, you're originally from San Francisco then, Miss Preston?" Gran inquired pleasantly, wiping her mouth and setting the cloth napkin beside her plate. "My goodness, traveling all that way from California to Texas by yourself must've been quite the journey," she observed in amazement at the other woman's nod. Picking up the coffee cup Martha had just refilled, Wyatt hid a pained grimace. It was at least the third or fourth such pointed question his grandmother had asked the school teacher since they began eating breakfast-although to her credit, if Miss Preston was aware of her new employer's less-than-subtle interrogation, she hid it well, responding respectfully to each question with admirable patience.
Sure, maybe deep down, a small part of him could admit to being somewhat curious about Lucy Preston (hey, she was very nice to look at, and he was only human). As the meal went on, it was getting harder for Wyatt to keep his expression blank and pretend disinterest in her answers, especially considering how impressive it actually was that Miss Preston had traveled across half the country without an escort of any kind–something not many women in this day and age would attempt, especially a young lady from an apparently well-to-do, fancy society family. That took a hell of a lot of grit in his book. However, it didn't mean he wanted to marry her.
Aww, hell, he should've expected something like this. Never one to let the grass grow under her feet, Betsy Sherwin had wasted no time taking full advantage of her (unmarried) grandson and the appealing new school teacher (conveniently also unmarried) sharing a meal at her table for the first time, pumping the poor woman for information with all the delicacy of Rufus pounding a piece of iron into submission at the smithy. Terrified of getting pulled into the conversation and somehow inadvertently encouraging his grandmother's efforts, he avoided making eye contact with either woman–no easy task when Miss Preston was sitting directly across from him.
Wyatt looked over at Gramps once or twice, hoping he might change the subject, but as usual on Sunday mornings, once he'd finished eating, the older man was engrossed in his Bible and the scripture reading he was tasked with for today's church services. Sighing under his breath, Wyatt turned his attention back to his plate. Naturally, he loved his Gran but sincerely hoped she'd eventually tire of her plans to find him another wife because his patience with the woman who raised him was starting to wear a tad thin...and it certainly wasn't fair to Miss Preston, either. Poor thing had arrived in Brady less than a day ago–and hopefully hadn't caught on to his grandmother's increasingly obvious (at least to him) match-making intentions.
Once finished with Martha's usual fine Sunday breakfast of eggs, bacon, fried potatoes, and biscuits, Wyatt politely excused himself. Upstairs in his large room at the end of the hallway, he washed his hands and quickly glancing in the small oval mirror on the wall, neatly combed his hair and made sure his face was clean as well. Staring calmly at his reflection, Wyatt steadfastly ignored the mocking little voice in his head-torn between irritation and amusement that it sounded a lot like Rufus-wondering why he was all of a sudden so interested in his appearance. No sin in wanting to look respectable for church, he told himself (and the little voice) firmly, his mind shying away from anything resembling the actual truth.
Shrugging into his dark brown wool coat, he brushed at the suede lapels and straightened his string tie before picking up the worn Bible that had been his mother's from the dresser. Heading downstairs, Wyatt found their guest waiting patiently near the bottom of the steps wearing her coat and a demure bonnet. "Your grandparents weren't quite ready so they sent me to wait on you," she informed him shyly, soft brown eyes watching him expectantly.
What a surprise, he thought drily, mentally rolling his eyes at more of Gran's shameless maneuvering. Clearly Miss Lucy Preston from San Francisco, California, had passed muster with his evidently delighted grandmother...not that it made one bit of difference to him. Wyatt wasn't too happy with his grandpa either, at the moment, for apparently going along with his wife's matchmaking schemes–which he found rather annoying since they'd just discussed the matter before breakfast. Dammit. Keeping his irritation with the older couple to himself, Wyatt merely nodded briskly in response before moving past her to grab his hat from the hooks beside the front door. Considerately offering her his arm, he escorted Miss Preston down the porch steps to the waiting carriage.
When she gazed uncertainly between him and the carriage (which, to be fair, was a couple feet off the ground), he solved the problem by stepping closer and putting his hands around her narrow waist. Easily lifting the slender brunette, he carefully placed her in the rig. Distracted by the light, enticing scent she wore teasing his senses, to Wyatt's chagrin, his hands probably hesitated a second too long on her person than was proper, as evidenced by her startled gasp.
Hastily dropping his hands, he stepped back and cleared his throat rather self consciously. "Up you go, Ma'am," Wyatt said lightly, trying desperately to act casual...and probably failing miserably. The fetching school teacher seemed a bit skittish around Wyatt, and he wondered idly if it was a reaction to him personally, or if maybe she just hadn't spent much time with men in general–a definite possibility considering she'd attended a women's college for a number of years. He sure as hell hoped it wasn't because of an unpleasant association with someone before leaving San Francisco–a disturbing thought indeed.
"Thank you, Mr. Logan, for your assistance," Miss Preston said breathlessly, interrupting his racing thoughts.
Gazing up at her, without warning, the words impulsively spilled out of his mouth. "Wyatt...call me Wyatt. Mr. Logan was my late father." Her eyes widened in surprise even as a rosy blush stained her cheeks, and shockingly, he found it hard to breathe for a few seconds. She really was a beautiful woman...
In an attempt to preserve his dignity–and good Lord, his sanity-Wyatt turned and gently stroked the placidly waiting horse's neck before climbing into the rig and taking a hold of the reins. Behind him, Miss Preston cleared her throat hesitantly and offered, "Lucy...my name is Lucy, Mr. Logan...um, Wyatt."
Busying himself with the reins, he swallowed hard before responding, "Sure, okay, Lucy, then. Uh, Miss Preston? I mean, Lucy, I want to apologize for my Gran being so nosy at breakfast..."
Wyatt was definitely taken aback when she (very graciously, of course) interrupted him. "No need for an apology, Mr. Logan...Wyatt. As President of the Brady school board, your grandmother is my employer, and as such, is certainly entitled to a thorough accounting of my background and education. I would expect no less, to be frank. Besides that, I find your grandparents to be lovely people..." Lovely? James and Betsy Sherwin were a couple of wily schemers in his book...
Before Lucy could continue, though, the front door opened and his lovely grandparents came down the steps towards them, neither one making much of an effort to hide their pleased smiles. Wyatt blew out a frustrated breath. With the two of them working together, he needed to keep his guard up or hell, Wyatt would be married good and proper by Easter. Once James helped Betsy onto the bench seat beside Miss Preston and climbed in the front with his grandson, they were off. Turning his attention to driving the carriage, Wyatt tried his best to stop hearing the teacher describing Gran and Gramps as 'lovely' people in his head...all the while privately considering what Lucy's opinion of him might be...
The usual ride into Brady seemed to fly by on this crisp Sunday morning. Absently noting the pale blue cloudless sky, Wyatt wondered if they might be in for an early spring after all–definitely good news for their neighbors who farmed. Despite his determination not to eavesdrop, even as he and Gramps were discussing the newest batch of foals they were expecting to be born in early April, Wyatt found his mind drifting numerous times to the woman sitting directly behind him. Her low, soothing voice was quite pleasing to his ear as she and his grandmother spent the trip to church talking about some of the families Miss Preston–Lucy–would be meeting this morning.
The last notes of the welcoming music from the old organ faded away, mingling with faint rustling sounds as the congregation gradually filed in and settled onto the hard wooden benches. Wyatt nodded to Rufus and Dave, who were sitting together just inside the door, before following his grandparents and Lucy towards the first row on the right. (It wasn't his preference to sit all the way up front, but since Gramps was a church Elder, the Sherwins were expected to set an example.) Once Miss Clara took her seat, Pastor Spencer stepped forward to lead the opening prayer. As the last 'amen' faded away, he greeted everyone with a jovial smile before beginning the weekly announcements. All around Wyatt, his fellow parishioners listened intently. Aside from the occasional Saturday night Grange dance or summer church picnic, Sunday was about the only time most of the town residents spent with each other and folks from area farms and ranches. This week, in addition to the usual mix of births (two), deaths (three) and one wedding, part of the announcements included introducing their visitor as the new school teacher.
Wyatt shifted uncomfortably when it seemed as if every head in the room swiveled in their direction to stare openly at his family and their guest. Seated between him and Gran, Lucy rose to her feet with a shy smile and stood admirably still while the Pastor told the congregation she was a graduate of the women's college over in Belton, and had originally come all the way to Texas from San Francisco, California.
Despite Lucy's outward composure in the face of such scrutiny from a room full of strangers, out of the corner of his eye, Wyatt noticed a faint blush warming her face, how the small gloved hands clasped neatly at her waist trembled slightly. Recalling how virulently he'd hated being the center of attention when Jess and baby Matthew passed away, Wyatt felt a flash of sympathy for the teacher–which had to have been the reason he impulsively reached over and squeezed her hand when she sat back down. Her barely audible hiss of surprise at his unexpected forwardness struck him as funny, and he bit back an amused grin.
Once the announcements were out of the way, the preacher stepped aside briefly as Gramps made his way to the lectern, Bible in hand, for the scripture reading. Pulling a pair of silver reading glasses from his coat pocket and putting them on, James wished everyone a hearty 'good morning' and added, "Brothers and sisters, I'd like to welcome Miss Lucy Preston, the newest resident of Brady-for at least the next year, God willing-with the following scriptures..."
Clearing his throat, he began reading in a deep voice. "From Hebrews 13:2, Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for thereby some have entertained angels unawares. Then, in Matthew 25:35, we find, For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me. Finally, I chose this verse from Romans 15:7, Therefore welcome one another as Christ has welcomed you, for the glory of God. Thank you."
It was a nice reading, and quite appropriate in the circumstances, Wyatt thought, proud of his grandpa, who knew the Bible from cover to cover. Then Miss Clara sat in front of the organ again and began to play, 'Blessed Assurance.' Accustomed since childhood to hearing his grandparents' pleasant but fairly ordinary singing voices every Sunday, Wyatt was struck nearly speechless when Lucy took a deep breath and began to sing along in a strong, clear soprano.
He was helpless to explain the swell of feelings rising in his chest at the pure, sweet sound, and struggled to keep up with the music–though it sure wasn't his best effort. Fortunately, Wyatt managed to get his emotions under control by the time the song was over. What was going on here? Not nearly as devout as Gran and Gramps (possibly because deep down in his heart, he'd never truly forgiven God for taking his wife and son from him), to his dismay, Wyatt increasingly found his attention wandering during the sermon to the woman seated quietly beside him. The warmth of her leg against his, the fragrance of her shiny dark hair, her delicate profile. Dammit...so much for keeping up his guard, he thought darkly, disgusted by his wayward thoughts.
The early February air had warmed considerably by the time church services were over and members of the congregation began slowly filing out, reluctant to miss out on even a few minutes of the weekly opportunity to enjoy fellowship with friends and neighbors before returning to their homes. Wyatt was waiting around with Rufus and Dave while Gran and the rest of the school board met with their new teacher. Over by the Sherwin's carriage, his grandpa was talking horses with a couple of their fellow ranchers.
Rufus was gleefully relating in vivid detail about a fight that broke out at Miss Emma's last night after Wyatt left to pick up the new teacher when he was suddenly interrupted by the sheriff. "Have to say, Wy, your school teacher is even prettier in the light of day," Dave observed with a sly grin. "Seems to be a shameful waste for a young, unmarried female who looks like that to be living in the same house as a man who isn't even interested in courting, let alone marriage and a family."
Wyatt froze and ignoring Rufus' soundless whistle, turned to glare at the other man, his temper starting to rise at what he instantly perceived to be an insult. "What the hell is that supposed to mean? Just what are you getting at, Sheriff?" he growled, moving closer to his old friend and fellow Ranger. While Dave had several inches on him in height, Wyatt's shoulders were broader, and he felt confident in his fighting ability. Strangely, since Wyatt had known the lady in question for less than a day, it never occurred to him that perhaps what he was feeling was the early stages of jealousy...
The other man's light blue eyes narrowed thoughtfully, and after a long, tense moment, he took a step back. "Why, nothing at all, Captain Logan," Dave said solemnly, offering Wyatt a rather mocking salute. "My apologies for speaking out of turn on this fine Sunday. Now if you boys will excuse me, I have to stop by the jail to finish up some paperwork. Catch up with you later." With that, he turned and rapidly strode away, tipping his hat here and there to fellow townspeople as he went.
Staring after the other man in shock until he was out of sight, an annoyed Wyatt immediately held up his hand when Rufus shook his head and opened his mouth to speak. "Not now, Rufus," he gritted out, stunned at the sheer intensity of his uncalled-for (unwelcome) possessiveness when it came to Lucy Preston. What had almost happened just now? From the careful way Rufus was regarding him, crazy as it sounded, it seemed Wyatt had been prepared to fight one of his closest friends over the honor of a woman he met less than a day ago. The hell? He honestly couldn't remember the last time his usually steady emotions had been so stirred up-especially by a female-and no, sir, he didn't like it one bit...
A/N #2: Wow. Take a deep breath there, Wyatt ;) Poor guy is all riled up (and it's so much fun to write). Next chapter I think will include Lucy's first days teaching school. I will do my best to get it posted before the holidays, but make no firm promises. My thanks and appreciation to those readers still interested in Timeless stories-especially those of you who take an extra minute to leave a review–it really means a lot to me :))