Chapter 6

A/N #1: Welcome back to 1881! Just want to say a super quick "thank you" to those readers kind enough to leave a review that I'm unable to respond to personally. I truly appreciate your support :)

The cool wintry air felt wonderful on her flushed cheeks once they left town behind, the buckboard wagon picking up speed as the horse settled into a brisk, steady gait. Accustomed as she'd become to one of the ranch hands (usually an older, reserved man named Charlie or the perpetually cheerful Jonah) driving her to and from school during the past week, Lucy was positively shocked when she saw who her escort was this afternoon.

Just the sight of Wyatt Logan, probably the very last person she expected, standing at the bottom of the steps wearing a faint half smile made her traitorous heart beat wildly–and goodness, that was before he held out his hand and fixing those dark blue eyes on her, asked quietly, "All ready to go, Miss Preston?" Unfortunately, when added to the lingering effects of the intimate glance they shared last evening (the one that ruthlessly haunted her dreams), Wyatt's surprise appearance left Lucy struggling to maintain her composure.

Not helping was that his perfectly civil behavior thus far this afternoon, while not exactly friendly, was truly bewildering in comparison to the disheartening realization as the days passed earlier in the week that he seemed to be largely avoiding Lucy since Sunday after church. She had no idea why Wyatt would behave in such a discourteous way after knowing her for less than 24 hours at the time, and even told herself it was entirely feasible she was mistaken. After all, his grandparents had been exceedingly kind to Lucy since her arrival in Brady. Still, it stung her feminine pride somewhat to even think the man might be deliberately trying to spend as little time as possible in her presence, a troubling notion that shook Lucy's confidence more than she cared to admit.

However, if she were being completely honest with herself, there was more to this than the cowboy's cool, distant manner towards her. After all, from the first time she met him, Wyatt Logan struck her as a rather quiet man, reserved in nature, who likely took a while to warm up to strangers, especially someone living in his home. Lucy found this to be perfectly reasonable, a personality trait she could understand and respect and even admire as well.

No, what she feared was the true source of her conflicted feelings was that aside from a chaste, very brief romance with Noah Cooke just after she turned 18, Lucy had embarrassingly little experience dealing with men around her own age–at least when compared to other young ladies she was acquainted with. Any kind of normal social life she might've once enjoyed seven years ago, things like fancy parties and outings and courtship followed eventually by marriage to a suitable young man, had been abandoned once Papa fell ill...a decision Lucy never for a second ever regretted.

Henry Preston had been the finest of men who devoted his life to his only child's health and happiness, and he deserved nothing less than her entire focus and loving care during the last months of his life. After her father passed away and she moved to Texas, the few men Lucy had encountered since then were either much older or mostly academic types from the college or the occasional businessman boarding at Mrs. Sullivan's. All perfectly nice...most perfectly acceptable...and each one perfectly boring.

Not a single male she'd met since leaving San Francisco, regardless of his suitability (which sadly, in retrospect, included her first and only beau), ever caught Lucy's attention like the ruggedly masculine Mr. Logan had from the moment she practically fell out of the stage coach into his arms–and she was at a loss at what that meant or more importantly, what to do about it. Raised without a mother or siblings or cousins or even a close female friend to seek advice from, at the arguably ancient age of 25, she felt sheltered and laughably naive–and woefully ignorant about how to deal with men in general, let alone one who intrigued Lucy the way Wyatt did.

Lucy purposely ignored the smug little voice in her head reminding her this wouldn't have been a problem if she'd married the wealthy, imminently suitable Dr. Cooke and stayed in California because that ship had sailed without a single regret on her part. Regardless of how fascinating she found Wyatt Logan-or how the cowboy really felt about her for that matter-she resolutely put the subject out of her mind to concentrate on getting settled and succeeding in her new position. After all, she hadn't moved to tiny Brady, Texas, to live for the next year to secure a new beau...and certainly had no plans on finding a husband...

And yet, after seldom seeing Wyatt the past five days except during supper each evening where he generally acted like she wasn't sitting across the table from him (at least until last night when Lucy was invited to join the family after the meal), suddenly, here he was. Finding herself unexpectedly alone with the man today, her good intentions seemed to be crumbling like sand. It was rather lowering to be so susceptible to broad shoulders and thick chestnut hair and intense blue eyes (and okay, maybe a set of dimples...not that she'd noticed or anything). Goodness, you need to get a grip on your wayward thoughts, Lucy Preston, she scolded herself firmly, trying not to tremble when the man casually moved in close and wrapping his bare hands around her waist, matter of factly lifted her into the wagon.

Supremely conscious of the solid shoulder pressed snugly against her much smaller one, Lucy held herself as still as possible–a difficult task indeed with the way the sturdy wagon was bouncing along. Despite her best efforts, the single wooden seat, though comfortable enough covered with the thick blanket they were sitting on, was barely wide enough to hold both of them, considering the voluminous, heavy wool skirt Lucy wore. And regrettably for her weakening resolve, she found being this physically close to Wyatt to be dangerously appealing...the comforting warmth and security of his muscular body beside her...the woodsy, slight musky scent she'd come to recognize as his alone delicately teasing her senses every time she drew a breath.

Thankfully for her nerves, Wyatt gave no sign whatsoever he noticed her inner turmoil. Lucy briefly closed her eyes in dismay at the attraction coursing unchecked through her veins. Absently glancing over her shoulder, she noticed the wood crates and burlap bags stacked neatly in the back of the wagon. Oh. Wyatt must've stopped at the general store before picking her up. Perversely torn between relief she wasn't the reason the cowboy was in town this afternoon and disappointment-that she wasn't the only reason he was in town this afternoon–Lucy exhaled softly and deliberately let her mind wander a bit. Just when her breathing had begun to steady, without warning, Wyatt broke the silence between them.

"How was your first week of teaching?" he asked politely, large, calloused hands deftly handling the reins...strong hands that had easily lifted Lucy up into the wagon as if she weighed no more than a feather. She shivered, losing her train of thought once more. Heavens. Was there nothing about this man she wasn't attracted to? Not for the first time since meeting him six days ago, she briefly wondered why a man like Wyatt Logan wasn't long married with two or three little ones...

"Lucy?" he prompted, turning his attention from the road to look at her curiously when she didn't respond right away. "Everything alright? Did something happen at school today?" She gulped, the beginnings of a faint blush pinking her face from sheer mortification the man had caught her daydreaming...about him, for goodness sake...

Quickly shaking her head and praying he'd think the crisp breeze was responsible for her rosy cheeks, she hesitantly began to tell him a little about her students and the excellent progress most had made during the week. The longer Lucy talked, the more her self-inflicted anxiety began to ease, due in no small part to her escort being a very attentive listener. Peeking at Wyatt from the corner of her eye once or twice, she noticed his lips curving faintly at the descriptions of her daily interactions with nearly twenty children of varying ages, although for some odd reason, he did frown slightly when she mentioned in passing that a couple of the older boys were nearly a head taller than her.

Turning off the main road, they were perhaps a half mile from the iron archway that identified the open, flat land as the Sherwin Ranch when Lucy ran out of things to say, her voice trailing off. Wyatt glanced at her and said lightly, "Well, it sounds like you had quite the eventful week, Lucy." She smiled in pleasure. They rode along in silence before Lucy, emboldened somewhat by his much warmer attitude towards her, cleared her throat and admitted shyly, "I was surprised to see you were the one picking me up at school this afternoon." She paused and peered at him expectantly, wondering if perhaps he might inadvertently reveal the reason for his distant behavior most of the week. But her girlish hopes were quickly dashed.

While it might've been her imagination, it seemed to Lucy as if Wyatt's shoulders stiffened ever so slightly at her impulsive confession, but his deep voice was calm and level enough when he responded. "I had several errands in town today and it made sense to swing by the school house and give you a ride home." Oh. Yes. Of course. A perfectly reasonable explanation-yet, why did her foolishly hopeful heart twinge in disappointment at the confirmation that escorting her was just another (probably tedious) errand for Wyatt? Well of course he hadn't left his important duties at the ranch to make the trip into Brady just to pick her up, Lucy told herself sternly, pressing her lips tightly together. What was the matter with her?

Luckily for her (irrationally) bruised feelings and the growing awkwardness she felt (or possibly imagined) between them, it was only a matter of minutes before they were pulling up in front of the farm house. To her chagrin, while naturally all an embarrassed Lucy wanted was to escape into the house and her room as quickly as possible, unfortunately, the wagon was even higher off the ground than the family carriage she usually rode in, so she was forced to wait for Wyatt to help her down. Bracing herself for the now familiar sensation of his hands on her person, she averted her eyes and inhaled sharply at the fleeting warmth of his chest against hers when he lifted her from the wagon seat and carefully set her down. "There you go, Ma'am," Wyatt said huskily, gazing down at her with a faint smile as he slowly let his hands drop.

Startled by the lingering touch, heart pounding fiercely, she took a hasty step back in an effort to put some space between them. Tempted beyond measure, she peeped up at him, immediately struck by the oddly intent glint in his dark blue eyes as he unexpectedly continued to watch her. At the moment, it was difficult for Lucy to reconcile this entrancing version of Wyatt Logan with the man who'd been treating her so aloofly just days ago. She really needed to go inside before losing every ounce of her usual poise. Now thoroughly confused by her capricious emotions amidst the mixed signals Wyatt was giving off, Lucy murmured breathlessly, "Thank you kindly for the escort, Mr. Logan," and turning away from him, gathered her skirts and hurried up the steps and into the house as quickly and gracefully as she could manage, unaware that Wyatt was watching her swift retreat with a curious frown...

Now what the hell was that all about? Wyatt wondered, puzzled by the teacher's abruptly standoffish manner towards him. Because she'd seemed oddly flustered to see him at first when he showed up at the school, Wyatt searched his brain for a way to put Lucy at ease during the trip back to the ranch, eventually reasoning that asking a teacher about her students might be a good way to do it. Didn't hurt that showing some interest in her new position also helped lessen some of the guilt he felt for acting like an ass towards her earlier in the week. And to his relief, it actually worked. Lucy visibly relaxed and became quite animated.

Despite his intention to keep things between him and the pretty teacher casual, Wyatt had found the smile on her face and in her voice, combined with the warmth of her narrow shoulder firmly pressed against his, to be quite charming. The time spent alone with Lucy Preston he'd been dreading had turned out to be a enjoyable experience–which was why he was at a loss to explain the jarring change in her manner.

Rapidly casting his mind back over the past few minutes, Wyatt honestly couldn't recall any part of the ride home that might account for it. In fact, it felt like things had been going real well between the two of them. And yet, despite not having much experience with women his own age (besides his short marriage to Jess, who Wyatt had known since they were children), he couldn't help but notice there had been a distinct chill in the air right before they'd pulled up in front of the house. Damn. Women and their mysterious ways. He exhaled roughly. Good Lord, Wyatt thought he could live to be a hundred and never understand the peculiar ways the female mind worked sometimes. It was like they were speaking an entirely different language. Shaking his head, he jumped up into the wagon and flicking the reins, drove around back to unload Martha's supplies before heading to the barn.

As usual, the Sherwins' kitchen was warm and inviting on this chilly February day, with something that smelled sinfully delicious simmering in a big iron pot on top of the cook stove. The housekeeper was standing at the sturdy oak work table in the center of the room, up to her elbows in biscuit dough when he walked in, so at her request, Wyatt obligingly carried everything into the small pantry just off the kitchen and set the supplies on the floor for her to organize later, well aware how particular the woman was about her domain. "Something sure smells good in here, Martha. What's for supper this evening?" he asked pleasantly, his stomach growling a little in anticipation when she answered it was one of his very favorite meals, beef stew with biscuits. Even better? She'd baked an apple pie for dessert. Nobody made apple pie like Martha...

Wyatt dutifully made several trips to fetch everything, and had just carried the last load inside when his grandmother popped into the kitchen. She brightened when Wyatt stepped out of the pantry. "Wyatt! There you are. Were you able to get the yarn I needed at the general store? I was thinking of knitting a scarf for Lucy to match her coat."

"Yes, Ma'am," he answered with a grin, handing over the neatly-wrapped brown paper package. Doing kind things for others was very much a part of Betsy Sherwin's nature as far back as he could remember, and Wyatt figured Lucy would appreciate the thoughtful gesture, what with spring still a ways off. Mindful of the horse and wagon outside that needed to be taken to the barn, he started to leave when Gran suddenly called his name.

Turning around, Wyatt's heart sank clear down into his scuffed up boots at the calculating gleam in her blue eyes as she looked him over–pretty sure he knew what was likely on her devious, matchmaking mind. Aww, hell. He really should've known. Was there anything James Sherwin didn't share with his wife? Wyatt sighed in resignation, mentally apologizing to the horse patiently waiting outside to be unhitched and given his supper.

"That was very thoughtful of you to offer to pick up Lucy at school this afternoon," Betsy observed calmly, not put off at all by the annoyed frown Wyatt didn't bother to hide. "You know, Martha, the sullen look on my grandson's face right now is remarkably similar to the one he'd wear when he was six years old, and James and I made him go to school instead of looking after the horses all day." She exchanged amused glances with the other woman, who wisely stayed above the fray, merely snickering quietly to herself as she continued to deftly roll and cut out biscuits.

"Aww, now, Gran," Wyatt muttered, his face warming at the embarrassing reminder of his childish self from the diminutive woman who raised him. Even as he stealthily edged closer to the back door, purely intent on escape, Betsy immediately stepped forward, and chuckling at his transparent discomfort, put a conciliatory hand on his arm.

"Wyatt Logan, you are a good man," she sighed, "but heavens, can be stubborn as a mule at times." Gran grinned mischievously in acknowledgment of the incredulous snort he couldn't contain (and also possibly the muffled, 'amen' from Martha that Wyatt definitely ignored). "I know, I know, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree, does it?" she asked ruefully. Clearly, it was meant to be a rhetorical question.

"Now, don't run off, Wy, this will only take a minute. It might set your mind at ease to hear your grandpa very firmly pointed out to me that I may have been a little, shall we say, obvious about my wish you and Lucy might suit. I'm so sorry, dear boy, for making you uncomfortable. That was certainly not-and of course, never would be-my intention. All James and I have ever wanted from the day you came to live with us was for you to be happy, even more so after the tremendous loss of Jessica and little Mattie. Naturally, we trust that you alone know your own heart, and therefore, I promise to mind my own business in the future, alright?"

Surprised and more than a little relieved by Gran's earnest, unexpected apology, Wyatt smiled and gently squeezed her small hand in response. "Thank you, Gran, I appreciate that..." Before he could say more, though, she held up a hand to interrupt him, apparently not quite finished with him.

"One last thing concerning the impolite way you've been treating Lucy this past week. Now I know your grandpa spoke to you last evening, so I won't add much except to say that regardless of what kind of impression Lucy Preston has made on you, Wyatt, or how much you might resent what you see as our interference in your life, she happens to be a fine young lady who is a guest in our home. I'm very glad you're making an effort to at least be civil. Although she hasn't come right out and said so, I get the impression that unlike you, Lucy is all alone in this world and therefore, might appreciate some simple kindness from us–and that includes from you, dear. Thank you for bringing me the yarn. I'll see you at supper." She sweetly patted Wyatt's stubbled cheek at his subdued, 'yes, Ma'am,' and left the room.

He stared after his grandmother in bemusement and okay, maybe a helping of guilt at the reminder Lucy had done nothing to deserve his shabby behavior. As fervently as Gran had been matchmaking since the arrival of the pretty new school teacher, Wyatt was taken aback by her forthright admission and apology just now. It wasn't like Betsy Sherwin to give in so quickly...or gracefully, he mused, idly wondering what she might be getting up to. Nevertheless, Wyatt thought for his own peace of mind, he'd take her words at face value, and suddenly felt much lighter in spirit than he had all week.

"Well, if you're going to hang around my kitchen working out the mysteries of the world for very much longer, Wyatt Logan, I have no problem putting you to work," Martha warned tartly, wiping her hands on the snowy white apron tied securely around her trim waist. Sliding the wide pan of biscuits into the hot oven, the housekeeper informed him the evening meal would be on the table in twenty minutes sharp, and she'd appreciate it if Wyatt was cleaned up and on time, which meant not messing around out in the barn like he tended to do sometimes. She squeaked in surprise when he impulsively darted over and kissed her worn cheek, laughing when the older woman's face reddened and she tried to shoo him out of her kitchen.

"You're the best, Miss Martha," Wyatt told her, whistling cheerfully as he walked out the back door, leaving the flustered housekeeper to finish getting supper ready. Just under twenty minutes later, he'd unhitched, rubbed down and fed and watered the horse and his stable mates with help from Jonah and was at the kitchen sink washing his hands. Today had turned out to be a pretty good day after all, Wyatt decided, looking forward to a fine meal.

Between the talk with Gramps last night and the apology just now from his grandmother, it felt like the air had finally been cleared between all parties concerned (well, except for Lucy, and he'd just as soon not have a conversation like that with her). He absolutely had no intention of courting–let alone marrying-the school teacher, something James and Betsy both seemed to accept and understand much better now, which was a heavy weight off Wyatt's shoulders. Hopefully, it meant he actually could be more at ease around Lucy going forward and not have to worry that Gran would be watching the two of them every second or God forbid, rushing to line up the preacher to perform a wedding ceremony before summer was here...

Pushing open the swinging dining room door, Wyatt saw the pretty brunette sitting quietly by herself at the table. She looked up with an expectant smile that faded almost instantly, her narrow shoulders visibly tightening up. Hmm...without a single clue how or why or when he'd somehow put her dainty nose out of joint, it was evident that for some reason known only to her, Lucy appeared to be a might ill at ease being around him at the moment.

Thankfully, now that Gran had solemnly promised to ease off her infernal matchmaking and Wyatt was no longer in danger of getting railroaded into taking another wife, to his surprise, Lucy Preston suddenly presented quite an attractive challenge. Instead of feeling panic, he found himself rather intrigued by the notion (not to mention curious about what was going on in that pretty head of hers).

"Evening, Lucy," he said amiably, taking a seat across the table from her, entertained in spite of himself by the soft pink color flooding her face even as she glanced up and offered him a prim smile before hastily looking back down at her plate. Well...that was interesting. Yes, indeed, quite a challenge. Unfortunately for the school teacher, as his fellow Rangers knew quite well from experience, Captain Wyatt Logan had never been able to resist a challenge...

Letting herself in the front door earlier, Lucy fled upstairs to her room, grateful no one was around to notice her rattled demeanor. Quietly closing the bedroom door behind her, she removed her bonnet and coat with shaking hands before sinking down on the side of the bed. Forcing herself to take deep, even breaths, in and out, in and out, she felt her thudding heart gradually slow down. It was foolish to get all worked up over a situation that very likely existed only in her mind, she told herself. Stop being ridiculous, Lucy.

Yes, while she found Wyatt Logan's changeable (unpredictable) attitude towards her over the past six days to be rather disconcerting, that was neither here nor there. Lucy was a guest in his home, and as long as the man treated her in a civil manner, it would be ill-advised to expect anything more...and an unnecessary distraction from her real purpose here in Brady for the next year. For the remainder of her stay at the Sherwin ranch, she was determined to be her usual poised, well-mannered self and treat all of her hosts as respectfully as possible (regardless of the way her senses recklessly responded to one in particular).

After washing her face and hands and smoothing back her hair, Lucy gazed into the oval mirror above the wash stand for a long moment, at last satisfied she presented a calm, serene appearance. You can do this...remain composed and polite no matter how tempting you found Wyatt Logan. Straightening her shoulders resolutely, she went downstairs, only to find the dining room empty. From the muffled sound of voices drifting through the kitchen door, she assumed the evening meal would be served shortly, and taking her usual seat, placed the cloth napkin in her lap to await the others. Seconds later, her resolve was immediately put to the test when the door abruptly swung open to reveal the very man Lucy was determined to keep at a cordial distance...

A/N: These crazy kids, right? It figures that once Wyatt decides he could make an effort to be friendlier (and maybe even a tiny bit flirty) around the new school teacher without his Gran trying her best to marry him off, Lucy has firmly resolved to keep the oh so tempting cowboy at arm's length for her own peace of mind. DANG. This battle of wills between two lonely, stubborn, pretty, pretty (tm Major Sam) people is so much fun to write :) Hope you're enjoying it, too. As always, my sincere appreciation to those readers who still follow, favorite and review Timeless fics–thank you so much :))