Chapter 5

A/N #1: Happy New Year to all my Timeless friends! My apologies that once more, it's been a little while since I've updated this story. When I wasn't preoccupied with all the usual Christmasy stuff during most of December, I was inspired to write a new entry for my "Hearts" series, a sequel to "Hearts of Hope and Courage" called, Healing Hearts, which I'm pleased to note happened to be my 10th new fic of 2021, a personal record :) But now the holidays are over and it's a new year, so let's return to 1881 and see what's up with Wyatt and Lucy...

Friday

February 11

Wrapping her warm winter coat tightly around herself against the damp February air, Lucy stepped through the heavy wooden double doors and vigorously rang the old metal hand bell to summon her students in from after lunch recess. She pretended not to notice when a couple of the older boys tossing around a leather ball groaned loudly in protest, even as they obediently trudged up the steps and filed back inside with the rest of their classmates to finish the last two hours of school for the week. One by one, the rosy-cheeked boys and girls–18 in total between the ages of five and fourteen-hung up their coats and caps before taking their seats on the narrow wooden benches that doubled as church pews on Sunday mornings.

Lucy was just about to close the doors when she felt a quick tug on her skirts. It was her youngest (and smallest) student, Sarah Jane Coleman, who'd turned five only two days ago. The shy little girl, who rarely spoke to anyone except her older brother, six-year-old Seth, gazed up at Lucy with a worried expression on her freckled face. Instructing the other children to begin copying math problems from the large chalkboard beside her desk in the corner, she crouched down in front of the child–who'd taken a liking to Lucy and been her little shadow from the first day of school on Monday.

"What is it, Sarah Jane? Are you feeling unwell?" A vigorous head shake sent the five-year-old's messy dark red braids bouncing around her tiny shoulders. Fortunately, Lucy noticed the way her student was squirming and her next guess was correct. "Oh, I'm sorry. Do you need to use the privy?" she whispered, privately amused by the girl's fervent nod. After asking her oldest student, Rebecca, to keep an eye on the others, Lucy took Sarah Jane by the hand and walked her to the whitewashed privy set back a little ways from the building.

Luckily for her restless but still well-behaved students, the remainder of the afternoon passed swiftly as they dutifully reviewed the week's lessons she'd prepared on Sunday evening in reading, arithmetic and spelling, despite a couple of them suffering from wandering attention. Thankful for the conscientious efforts of her predecessor, she was pleasantly surprised with the progress most of them had made the past five days, especially after being away from school since before Christmas.

Snapping open the burnished gold pocket watch belonging to her father that she wore on a chain around her neck, Lucy saw it was nearly time to go. It's been a good first week, Papa, she thought wistfully, looking around the room at the bent heads of her class with pride. From outside the building came the faint sounds of jingling horse bridles and wagon wheels that signaled the end of another school day, prompting her to ask one of the older boys experienced in such things to bank the fire in the pot-belly stove in the back corner by the doors.

Once the children's slates and chalk pieces were collected and stored in a wooden crate under Lucy's desk, they were dismissed for the weekend. Threading her way through the boisterous group to the back of the room, she helped several of the younger students with their coats, found a missing mitten for a crying first grader, and greeted a few of the parents who'd come to retrieve their offspring. She was touched by the childish shouts of 'goodbye, Miss Preston' that could be heard above the general clamor. Regardless of her natural trepidation on Monday morning, Lucy's first week of teaching was over, and things had gone quite well (in her humble opinion).

In fact, she was relieved at how easily the chilly, at times dismal, winter days had fallen into a busy, satisfying pattern–no doubt helped in part by staying with the Sherwins in their comfortable home. Rising just before dawn each morning, Lucy hurriedly washed up and dressed warmly for the day, sharing a hearty breakfast with the couple (and sometimes their handsome but rather reticent grandson) that Martha prepared before being driven into town by one of the ranch hands, usually Charlie or Jonah.

Because quite a number of her students had chores before and after school, class didn't begin until 9:00 a.m., and ended promptly by 3:30 p.m. each day. Arriving back at the ranch not too long before dusk and another meal with her hosts, Lucy diligently worked on lesson plans after supper and occasionally made time for writing letters to her friends and former colleagues back in Belton before preparing her clothes for the next day and turning out the light.

Her new routine was disrupted last night, however, when something unforeseen happened after the evening meal was finished...

Flashback

Placing the cloth napkin beside her dinner plate, Lucy excused herself from the table as she had every evening prior and was nearly to the doorway when she suddenly heard Mrs. Sherwin call her name. Lucy's cheeks warmed faintly when she turned to see her dinner companions regarding her with varying degrees of interest-even Wyatt.

"Lucy?" When she inclined her head respectfully, the older woman smiled warmly and said, "I know you haven't been with us for very long, but may I speak frankly?" At Lucy's tentative nod, she continued, "While you are our guest for the time being, and it's certainly none of our business, we couldn't help but notice you've been spending nearly all of your free time alone in your room every evening after supper."

She stared at Mrs. Sherwin in surprise. What? Had she behaved impolitely? Very dimly aware of the muttered, good Lord, Gran, Wyatt directed across the table at his grandmother, Lucy was truly at a loss. She'd been educated at the finest finishing school in San Francisco and prided herself on having impeccable manners. Had she somehow inadvertently committed a breach of rural Texas etiquette?

Correctly interpreting the puzzled expression on Lucy's face, Mrs. Sherwin chuckled and patiently explained, "As a member of the Brady school board, naturally, while I greatly appreciate the sincere dedication you've shown to your new position thus far, I can't help wondering if so little socialization outside of your students and daily meals shared with us might lead to loneliness, and perhaps eventually sow seeds of regret that you agreed to accept the teaching position here in Brady for a year. That would be a shame after the fine way you've settled in here."

Betsy Sherwin blithely ignored the unmistakable snort of derision from her grandson as he got to his feet and shaking his head, began helping Martha clear the table. "What I'm trying to say, my dear, apparently quite poorly, is that James and I, and of course, Wyatt, too, would be very pleased if you consider joining us in the front room occasionally, perhaps starting with this evening? It would be lovely for us to get to know you better, and also answer any questions you may have about the community and its residents."

Taken aback by the unexpected invitation but reassured by the encouraging smiles worn by the older couple (even as the third member of the family seemed to be ignoring the conversation entirely), Lucy glanced between her hosts, wavering only a second before politely responding, "Thank you, Ma'am, I'd like that very much." The other woman beamed in pleasure at her acquiescence. Although it hadn't exactly been an invitation, Lucy considered wryly, following her forthright hostess out of the dining room a moment later...perhaps more along the lines of a graciously worded order?

Pointing Lucy towards one of a pair of beautifully crafted rockers placed in front of the massive stone fireplace where a fire burnt cheerfully, Mrs. Sherwin made herself comfortable in the other with a small basket of brightly-colored yarn and knitting needles. With a quiet sigh, Lucy settled herself in the rocker and tried not to think about the various tasks that awaited her before bedtime. Gradually, she allowed herself to relax and enjoy the warmth of the fire, content to watch Mrs. Sherwin in silence until the men entered the room not long after. Seating themselves around a sturdy, masculine-looking desk in a far corner of the room, they began poring over what Lucy guessed might be equine journals of some kind (since this was a horse ranch).

For the first few minutes, unsure if she should perhaps start a conversation, Lucy sat quietly, hands clasped loosely in her lap, listening to the rhythmic clicking of Mrs. Sherwin's knitting needles and the low murmur of the men's voices. Despite the kind invitation to join them and the informal atmosphere overall, she couldn't help but feel slightly out of place in what appeared to be an intimate family setting.

Thankfully, Mr. Sherwin at last seemed to notice the discomfort she apparently was unable to hide. He stood, and plucking a thick book from several stacked on the mantel above the fireplace, handed it to Lucy and with a rueful grin, asked if she would mind reading aloud to them, since 'his eyesight wasn't what it used to be.'

Offering the older man an uncertain smile, she glanced at the book's cover. The Last of the Mohicans, by James Fenimore Cooper. Her smile faltered in an instant, fingers trembling as they lightly traced the letters. Her host couldn't possibly know it, but this novel had been a personal favorite of Henry Preston, one of several Lucy used to often read aloud to her father after his illness progressed to the point where he was confined to his bed around the clock.

"Lucy? Is something wrong?" James asked kindly after a long moment when she belatedly became aware the only sound in the room was the popping and crackling of the fire. Glancing around, Lucy saw that both Wyatt and his grandmother had stopped what they were doing to stare at her curiously. How embarrassing...

Swallowing hard against the pang of grief for her father and those last anguished days of his life, she shook her head mutely at Mr. Sherwin, who took a seat on the dark green damask-covered Chesterfield sofa beside his wife's rocker. Clearing her throat self consciously, Lucy opened the book, and turning to chapter one, she hesitantly began to read, her voice gradually growing stronger with each page.

'It was a feature peculiar to the colonial wars of North America, that the toils and dangers of the wilderness were to be encountered before the adverse hosts could meet. A wide and apparently an impervious boundary of forests severed the possessions of the hostile provinces of France and England. The hardy colonist, and the trained European who fought at his side, frequently expended months in struggling against the rapids of the streams, or in effecting the rugged passes of the mountains...'

Lucy read steadily through the first chapter, perhaps a bit flattered when she finished and James eagerly asked her for 'just one more.' Pleased by his request-she nodded agreeably and started to focus her attention once more on the printed page when a deep voice from across the room interrupted.

"Yes, Ma'am, now you've gone and done it, Lucy Preston. Now that he knows how good you are at it, Gramps will want you to read for him every night," Wyatt warned her dryly, giving his grandfather a fond grin. For his part, the older man merely shrugged unrepentantly. Startled by the casual compliment buried in the observation, she looked past James and met his grandson's dark blue gaze, blushing at the suddenly intent expression on his face. Or maybe it was the heat of the fire? Doing her best to ignore the way her heart began to race, after a few seconds, Lucy shyly returned his easy (and tremendously appealing) smile before starting to read the second chapter...

End Flashback

Yes, once she finished reading the second chapter of the book and retired to her room for the evening, while lying under the thick covers staring up at the ceiling, Lucy realized perhaps Mrs. Sherwin was correct. She had been feeling a bit lonely from keeping to herself so much, because as it turned out, she'd very much enjoyed spending time with the Sherwins after supper, including reading aloud to the family. Unfortunately, however, her longer-than-usual exposure to the rugged charm of Wyatt Logan had resulted in a less-than-restful night's sleep.

Was it any wonder a certain tall, dark-haired, blue-eyed cowboy possessing an enticing set of dimples haunted her dreams once she turned in for the night and let her guard down? Lucy sighed. She feared very many nights in a row of socializing with her hosts might have a permanently adverse effect on the usual composure she prided herself on. If only Betsy Sherwin would be content with Lucy sharing their evenings only once or twice a week? she mused idly before rolling her eyes at the probably futile idea.

After the last few students departed and she was alone, Lucy went back inside to tidy up the room, mindful it would be used for church services on Sunday morning. Once everything was in place to her satisfaction, she began to gather her things...just in time, it seemed, when the sound of a horse and a buggy or wagon approaching drifted through the open doorway.

Happy to have her first week of school behind her and looking forward to some leisure time over the next two days, Lucy hurriedly donned her bonnet and coat before stepping through the double doors and closing them securely behind her. There was no lock on either door, something that had initially surprised a woman who'd spent the first 18 years of her life in a large coastal city with nearly a quarter million residents. Mr. Sherwin had casually informed her at breakfast Monday that because Brady was such a small place-one where nearly all the residents knew each other–there had never been much of a reason to lock the only real community building in town, no matter what purpose it happened to be serving.

Shaking her head mentally at the sharp contrast between her childhood residence and her present living circumstances, Lucy turned around and froze in shock when she saw who had arrived to pick her up...

It had been a particularly busy morning at the ranch. Once Charlie returned from taking Lucy to school, Wyatt sent him and a couple other hands to work fixing fences on the far western end of their land, a task performed every few weeks or so. At nearly 2,000 acres, maintaining the ranch's boundaries was an ongoing process, but a necessary evil if the family wanted to keep what was theirs, what James and Betsy Sherwin had worked hard all their lives for...and his eventual inheritance. Naturally, he didn't like to dwell on what life would be like without the couple who'd lovingly raised him from the age of three, but at heart, Wyatt Logan was a realist who accepted what the coming years inevitably held.

After lunch, he headed for the barn to check on the crop of mares who were expecting, including one who'd give birth to her first foal sometime in April. Susannah (or Sweet Sue as Gramps liked to call her) was one of Wyatt's favorites, a pleasant-tempered young lady he'd helped deliver nearly three years ago. He was in the mare's stall, carefully examining her steadily increasing belly when Jonah popped his head over the door.

"Hey, Boss, when you finish with Susannah there, can you come look at Commander? He's favoring his left foreleg and I think he might be fixing to lose a shoe." Wyatt grimaced in response. Although obviously he, along with James and Betsy, owned all the horses and other livestock belonging to the Sherwin ranch, Commander was his own personal horse, given to him by Gran and Gramps just days before Wyatt had entered his service with the Texas Rangers. He and Commander had been through some rough-ass years together during their Rangering days, and in his mind, a more valiant, intelligent horse had yet to be born. Retired like his owner, the beautiful ebony stallion spent his hard-earned golden years as a valued stud for the ranch. In fact, he had fathered several of the expected new crop of foals, including Susannah's, and Wyatt was hopeful their breeding would produce a fine little colt or filly.

"Be right there, Jonah," Wyatt replied briskly. Finishing up his exam with a gentle pat on the mare's belly, he pulled a carrot swiped from the kitchen when Martha wasn't looking out of his coat pocket and offered it to the hungry mother-to-be. "There's my good girl," he crooned softly, stroking her sleek neck affectionately while the mare eagerly devoured the crunchy treat.

Crouched down beside the stallion a minute later, it took all of about three seconds for Wyatt to confirm that just as his ranch hand had predicted, Commander was gonna need a new shoe–which meant a trip into Brady to see Rufus. He sighed in displeasure. Going into town and back, not to mention waiting around for his friend to put on the new shoe (and the inevitable extra time spent shooting the bull because the blacksmith was always in the mood for a good gossip session) would probably take the rest of the afternoon. Dammit.

"Wyatt? What's the matter with Commander?" Gramps asked from the doorway. Stepping into the stall with him, James frowned in concern for the stallion, who eagerly nosed at the older man's coat pockets. Sure enough, a bright red apple disappeared from his grandpa's outstretched palm in the blink of an eye.

"You really shouldn't give him a treat every time you come into the horse barn," Wyatt scolded, grinning in spite of himself when an offended Commander tossed his head arrogantly at his owner's disapproval. Getting to his feet, he half-heartedly complained, "Seriously, Gramps. You're turning a seasoned warrior horse into a spoiled thousand pound baby," which made both men laugh, especially when the clever beast whinnied as if in agreement.

Wyatt's amusement quickly faded, however, when right away, the other man suggested since he would be in town anyway, it would save Jonah or one of the other hands a trip if Wyatt stopped by the schoolhouse after he was done at the blacksmith and picked up Lucy. He stared at Gramps in dismay, but after several seconds thinking furiously for a way to get out of it, couldn't ignore the logic of the idea. Dammit.

The thing was, (and he had an uneasy feeling the always canny James Sherwin realized exactly what his grandson was thinking), ever since getting all worked up over the woman last Sunday–enough to actually consider fighting his best friend over her–in an effort to keep his distance, Wyatt had been scrupulously careful of how much time he actually spent around Lucy Preston.

Regrettably for Wyatt, his less than mannerly behavior most likely hadn't escaped his matchmaking grandmother's attention, and knowing her, when he least expected it, she'd probably call him out on it. As for his self-imposed task, it surely hadn't been easy, considering the fact they were sharing a house at the same time since Lucy was their guest and Wyatt lived there, too, but not once had he allowed himself to be alone with the pretty school teacher-not since helping her into the buggy last Sunday morning.

Wyatt hated like holy hell to admit it-even to himself-but his determination to avoid Lucy Preston was weakening by the day because he found almost everything about the slim brunette from San Francisco to be just too tempting. Like how she always looked as fresh and pretty at the end of a long day as she did first thing in the morning...the beguiling smile she gave him each time he walked into the dining room, the one that revealed a slight dimple in her right cheek and made his unwilling heart beat faster...the way the delicate floral scent she wore drifted across the supper table to tease his senses. Yep...he was doomed.

Take last night, for instance. While his persistent grandmother was reluctantly forced to give in when he instantly, vehemently balked at her meddling notion after supper on Sunday evening that Wyatt be the one to drive Lucy to and from Brady every day–hell, no, Ma'am–she had then stubbornly insisted on his presence at the supper table every night. Unhappy about winning the battle, but possibly losing the war, he tried his best at each meal they shared to ignore Lucy (as politely as possible, of course, because he wasn't a complete horse's ass), in spite of the curious glances she occasionally sent him across the table...and felt like he had mostly succeeded...

Flashback

To be honest, the first day or two, he was rather surprised when it seemed as if Betsy Sherwin was letting his rebellion against her plans to marry him off to their guest go unchallenged...which lasted until this evening's meal when she'd suddenly called out Lucy's name as the teacher excused herself to go to her room. To Wyatt's shock, Gran asked her to join them for a little while before she went upstairs for the night. Damn...he should've known...but still, give her credit, the old girl had lasted a whole four days before moving in for the kill, he mused in faint admiration for the woman who raised him before recovering enough to murmur, 'good Lord, Gran,' disapprovingly at her.

He could tell by the confused expression on Lucy's face the poor thing had no idea what was really going on here. And of course, Gramps held his tongue, well used to the way his wife's mind worked and loathe to insert himself into the situation. When Gran began talking about dedication and loneliness and regret, Wyatt snorted (nearly) under his breath in disgust and rose to help Martha gather up the dirty dishes.

Of course, as well mannered as their guest was, after a second, she obediently followed his grandmother out of the dining room and across the entryway to the front room. Handing over the plates to Martha, who wisely kept her thoughts to herself, Wyatt scowled at Gramps, who held up his large hands in surrender. "Do you really think this is such a good idea?" he demanded in a fierce undertone. The older man sighed in resignation.

"Wyatt, we've already discussed this, and I haven't forgotten your strong feelings on the subject. But I have to tell you straight, son, that maybe you should stop thinking about someone besides yourself for a change," James answered bluntly, apparently having run out of patience with his obstinate grandson. Wyatt stared at him in shock. The hell? What was that supposed to mean?

"You're so busy running away from what you think is some kind of arranged marriage that you've clean forgotten that there's another person involved here–an innocent who deserves better. Miss Preston has shown herself to be a fine, gently-bred young lady who was not only brave enough to travel all alone from California to Texas so she could get herself an education, but was also brave enough to agree to living here in the middle of nowhere for a whole year because the children of Brady needed a teacher. That takes a fair amount of courage in my book, and I imagine spending every evening alone in her room must be very lonely for Lucy. Who else is she supposed to socialize with stuck out here on this ranch? And don't think Betsy and I haven't noticed the rude way you've been acting around a guest in our home. You're a grown man, but I know we raised you to have better manners than this."

Having said his piece, James fell silent and stood there waiting. Stung by the undeniable truth in his grandpa's words, Wyatt's heart sank to the bottom of his worn boots. Aww, hell, Gramps was right, he thought guiltily. In spite of his best intentions not to, he really had been acting like a horse's ass and treating Lucy poorly since Sunday. It certainly wasn't her fault she and Wyatt were both unmarried and in Gran's mind, perfect for each other.

"So do we understand each other, then, Wy?" Gramps asked, watching him with perhaps a touch of sympathy in his dark blue eyes. At Wyatt's unenthusiastic nod, he grinned and patted him on the back. "Good man. Now that we've cleared the air about this, I'd like your help with something that has absolutely nothing to do with pretty young ladies or matchmaking or any of that foolishness." Wyatt chuckled and shook his head. He could always count on his grandpa to speak plainly–whether he wanted him to or not.

When he and James walked into the front room, surprisingly, they found the females sitting quietly in the rockers by the fireplace. Wyatt would've bet good money Gran had taken advantage of the opportunity to give Lucy the 'hard sell' about him, but it looked like she'd merely pulled out her knitting, leaving the younger woman to silently watch the leaping, crackling flames, small hands clasped in her lap. Nodding politely at the women, the men settled in at his grandpa's work desk on the other side of the room and began looking through one of the horse breeding books they frequently referenced. Maybe ten minutes passed before Gramps suddenly looked over at their guest and frowned thoughtfully.

"I think we've done enough research for today, Wy," he said in a low voice, getting to his feet and walking over to the fireplace. To Wyatt's surprise, James picked up one of the books stacked on the mantel and smiling genially, handed it to their guest. "Young lady, would you do an old man whose eyesight isn't what it used to be a great favor and read aloud for us?" The teacher politely returned his smile and took the book. He watched curiously as she ran her fingers over the title, her smile fading ever so slightly. Wyatt was wondering which book it was and why Lucy reacted to it so oddly when Gramps spoke up after a moment, gently prompting, "Lucy, is something wrong?"

When she slowly shook her head without responding, James took a seat on the sofa beside Betsy's rocker and stared at their guest expectantly. After clearing her throat, she began to read 'The Last of the Mohicans'–a little shaky at first, Wyatt thought–but soon her voice grew stronger. And just like the beautiful singing he'd heard from her in church on Sunday, he understood what a wonderful reading voice Lucy possessed, too. It was pure magic, skillfully weaving a tale of adventure that practically mesmerized Wyatt, and clearly, his grandparents were affected, too. Gran actually put down her knitting needles, and Gramps hung on every word. When she got to the end of the chapter, and James immediately requested she read one more, Wyatt was so charmed, the words fell unbidden out of his mouth.

"Yes, Ma'am, now you've gone and done it, Lucy Preston. Now that he knows how good you are at it, Gramps will want you to read for him every night," grinning when James just shrugged in response. Looking past his grandpa, Wyatt's eyes met Lucy's full on, and they exchanged a very potent glance that nearly took his breath away–one that felt startling intimate somehow in spite of his grandparents' presence. As they continued to look at each other, his lips curved involuntarily in a slight smile that she returned shyly before devoting her attention to the next chapter of the book. Unnoticed by the others, Wyatt gazed intently at Lucy while she read, his eyes trailing her slender figure when she finished and retired to her room. It had turned out to be quite the eventful evening. Was it any wonder the lovely Miss Preston flitted in and out of his dreams all night?

End Flashback

Despite Wyatt's earlier apprehension, Rufus had been up to his neck in work when he stopped at the smithy to drop off Commander to be re-shoed. Aside from a brusque promise the horse would be ready tomorrow afternoon, his friend was able to spare him no attention at all, privately a great relief to Wyatt, who knew how carried away the blacksmith could get at times when he started talking.

Outside the building, Wyatt pulled out his pocket watch and calculated there was just enough time before school was dismissed at 3:30 for him to stop by the general store and pick up a few things–including some carrots and apples Martha tartly requested to replace the ones he and Gramps were continually giving the horses (because of course the eagle-eyed housekeeper noticed her dwindling supply and scolded the two men soundly).

It was nearly 3:30 when Wyatt loaded the last of the supplies into the back of the wagon he'd brought into town. Before climbing up into it, he stopped and frowned thoughtfully at the rough planking the front seat was made of. It belatedly occurred to Wyatt that it wouldn't be nearly as pleasant for his passenger as the carriage she normally rode to and from Brady in. Shaking his head in dismay at the realization, he went back inside the general store and bought a thick woven shawl for Lucy to sit on, making a mental note to store the garment in the barn before either of his grandparents happen to notice and start asking uncomfortable questions Wyatt didn't particularly care to answer just now. Bad enough he was fetching her from school today...no need to add fuel to the fire...

As one might expect, the school yard was empty on this Friday afternoon when he pulled the wagon to a halt just in time to see Lucy step outside and tug the building's wooden double doors shut before turning around and stopping abruptly in her tracks. Wyatt found himself enjoying the stunned expression on her face when he lightly jumped down from the rig and walking to the bottom of the steps, held out his hand and drawled, "All ready to go, Miss Preston?"

Once she was comfortably settled on the (now nicely padded) seat–close enough he could feel the warmth of her small frame against his side-he turned the team of horses around and headed out of town. As they rode along in silence, Wyatt took a deep breath and surprised both of them by inquiring politely, "How was your first week of teaching?"

A/N #2: Well, my goodness. Could Wyatt possibly (finally) be giving in to the inevitable and warming up to Lucy? The stubborn man put up a good fight, but I think we all know the answer to that :p Hope everyone still following this story enjoyed this longer than usual chapter. (I'll try to keep future updates coming faster, promise!) There's still plenty more ahead for these two, however, and I hope you stick around. Thanks so much to all those readers who take a minute to favorite, follow and/or leave a review for any of my stories. There's no greater encouragement for me to keep writing :))