Chapter 7
Saturday
After breakfast was finished and the men excused themselves and headed out to the stables, Betsy informed Lucy it was laundry day and asked if she would mind bringing her soiled clothes to the kitchen. She immediately offered to help with the weekly chore, but was politely rebuffed.
"Oh, that's very sweet of you, Lucy," the older woman responded pleasantly, "but we have a nice girl from town named Katie who comes to help out on Saturdays with the laundry and cleaning and such. Thank you for offering, though, especially when I'm fully aware this is your only free day of the week, what with teaching Monday through Friday and half of Sundays devoted to church. You just relax and enjoy yourself, my dear-but please don't forget to bring your things downstairs to the kitchen first. Our Martha likes to keep a tight schedule on wash days."
Nodding obediently, Lucy went upstairs and changed into one of her older, long-sleeved dresses from when she was a student. Dressed once more, she peeked in the mirror and smoothed her hair before opening the closet door to retrieve the large woven basket from the floor that held the shirtwaists and various under garments she'd worn during the week plus her nightgowns. After a brief inspection of her heavy wool skirts for any rips or stains and finding none, she left the skirts hanging up in the closet to air out over the weekend.
Setting the basket by the door, Lucy walked back across the room to peek out the window. The pale winter sunshine looked inviting, and hopefully mild enough for a nice walk before lunch, she decided impulsively. Cheered by the thought, she draped her winter coat over her arm before going downstairs to the kitchen where a slight young woman with dark red hair and bright blue eyes was industriously working a wooden plunger through a large, steaming metal tub full of various garments under Martha's supervision. The redhead paused what she was doing to eye Lucy curiously before offering her a timid smile.
After handing off the basket to the housekeeper and thanking her and Katie politely, she looked in the front room to find Mrs. Sherwin sitting at the desk in the corner working on some type of correspondence. The older woman looked up with a distracted smile long enough for Lucy to tell her she was heading outside for a walk before returning her attention to the papers in front of her.
Shrugging into her coat, Lucy stepped outside and paused for a moment, breathing in the invigorating morning air as a light breeze played havoc with the loose strands of hair framing her face. Off to her right stood the sprawling, well-kept barn and stables with a good-sized fenced-in area beside it she guessed was a corral used for working with the horses. Through the distance she heard the faint sounds of chickens, a dog or two barking and horses whinnying. A feeling of contentment washed over her.
Staying at the Sherwin ranch in this remote part of central Texas was her first experience with rustic life-and to Lucy's surprise, as a life-long city dweller, thus far she found the slower pace quite appealing. Of course, while there were definitely certain conveniences folks had to forgo when living in the middle of nowhere, it seemed to her that all this lovely fresh air and wide open spaces as far as the eye could see more than compensated for any lack they might feel.
At the bottom of the steps, Lucy hesitated, a little unsure which direction to take when she caught sight of James striding through the open barn doors and going to stand at the split-rail fence. Curious, she wandered that way, stopping to crouch down and pat an elderly, white-muzzled Beagle lying on the ground not far from the barn whose tail wagged eagerly in response at the attention. The older man turned when she drew close to him and smiled amiably. "Why, hello there, young lady. I see you've made the acquaintance of our hound, Spot, a good boy who's in early training for retirement," he kidded, his dark blue eyes (so like his grandson's) lighting up with good humor when she laughed appreciatively at his little joke.
"Seems the older he gets, ole Spot doesn't care too much for the cold...in fact, he's right partial to laying around all day in pretty sunshine like this," James shared cheerfully. "Getting a bit of fresh air yourself, are you? Good for you. Hopefully, as we move closer to March, the weather will continue to get nicer and we can put winter behind us. Spring around these parts is a real treat."
Returning his infectious smile, she replied, "I'm definitely looking forward to it, sir..." They were interrupted when the wide double doors on the side of the barn opened without warning to reveal Wyatt leading a high-stepping horse with a shiny, cream-colored coat and coarse white tail and mane into the corral. This must be the new stallion the two men were discussing at breakfast, and even to Lucy's uneducated eye, she could see he would be considered a prime piece of horseflesh.
Noting her involuntary hum of appreciation for the beautiful animal, James informed Lucy the stallion was an American Quarter horse-specifically a Palomino because of his pale coloring-come all the way from a fellow rancher and horse breeder near San Antonio. They watched in silence as Wyatt–seemingly unaware of her presence beside his grandfather-began to patiently walk the rather skittish horse in slow, meandering circles around the corral, his strong hands deftly handling the leading bridle with occasional calming pats along the magnificent beast's long neck.
To her chagrin, Lucy's gaze was almost immediately drawn to those masculine hands as she admired the way Wyatt kindly but confidently touched the horse-leaving no doubt in her mind whatsoever exactly who was in charge here. My goodness. She shivered, fervently hoping the freshening gust of wind drifting around the barn yard would cool the faint warmth pinking her face before it became noticeable. Once more, Lucy privately cursed her utter lack of experience with men–especially a man like Wyatt Logan, who despite her best efforts to remain distant but polite, seemed to continually arouse feelings of attraction in her whenever she was in his presence. Clearing her throat, she observed, "Your grandson seems to be quite experienced working with horses."
James accepted the compliment with a proud grin. "Yes, ma'am, our Wyatt does have a way with horses, always has, ever since he came to live with us here at the ranch when he was just a little fellow." Correctly interpreting the mildly curious frown on Lucy's face, he explained, "You see, Wyatt's mama was our daughter, Libby, the only child Betsy and I were blessed with. Sadly, she and his daddy both passed away from cholera back in '56, and so Wyatt–who was only three at the time-became ours to raise to manhood."
"As I'm sure you can imagine, it was a terrible loss for my wife and I, losing our girl at a young age like that. No parent should outlive their child, Lucy. Goes against the very laws of nature. Thankfully for us, though, taking care of Libby's little boy helped to dull the powerful sorrow by giving us a reason to keep putting one foot in front of the other as time slowly healed our broken hearts. Probably seemed to some folks around here that Betsy and I saved Wyatt from being an orphan–not an inaccurate assumption, I suppose-but in reality, from the very beginning, he has been a true blessing and brought nothing but joy into our lives."
Staring up at James, her heart swelled with sadness, throat thickening with emotion at the unthinkable loss the whole Sherwin family had suffered. What a poignant, yet ultimately inspiring story. Wordlessly squeezing the older man's arm in sympathy, she turned to watch Wyatt once more, trying to process her oddly strong feelings. Despite never knowing her mother, Caroline, not a second of Lucy's childhood had been lacking in any way. Instead, the years were full of love and affection and security–all due to Papa. She honestly couldn't fathom losing her father at such a young age. At least she had an all-too-brief twenty years with him before Henry's untimely death. Lost in her thoughts, she was startled by Wyatt's deep voice when he suddenly brought the stallion to a halt in front of her and his grandfather.
"What do you think, Gramps? I see a lot of potential with this one...he's got plenty of spirit, just needs to get used to the way we do things around here at Sherwin Ranch, don't you," he said, patting the horse's neck and murmuring soothingly. Taking an involuntary step back when the feisty animal snorted and tossed his head in her direction, Lucy blushed at the surprise clearly written on Wyatt's face when he glanced at her. He probably thought she was afraid or perhaps hadn't spent much time around horses.
Unfortunately, his natural assumption was uncomfortably close to the truth in her case. Although her father had ridden regularly and owned carriage horses as well for as far back as she could remember, Lucy had rarely been near–let alone, on-a horse after the trauma of falling from one when she was a small girl and breaking her wrist. With that being said, however, Lucy Preston did not consider herself a coward. Stubbornly holding her ground, she lifted her chin and tentatively inched slightly closer as the two men began discussing the stallion's finer qualities in earnest–unaware the younger male was also keeping his eye on her.
Abruptly flashing Lucy a encouraging smile, Wyatt asked in a low voice if she'd like to pat the horse. While her first instinct was to shake her head no, looking into the cowboy's deep blue eyes, Lucy was surprised to see perhaps a flicker of understanding for her reluctance. Taking a deep breath-you can do this, Lucy-she forced herself to move forward and press herself against the split-rail fence before hesitantly reaching toward the stallion, who, thanks to his skillful handler, was at the moment behaving in a much more docile manner than he'd been earlier.
"There you go," Wyatt coaxed, catching Lucy off guard by taking her trembling hand in his much larger one and guiding it to a spot on the horse's nose. Fingers reflexively stroking the surprisingly velvety hide, her eyes widened and she smiled happily at the two men.
"My goodness, it's much softer than I thought it would be," Lucy admitted, glancing between them and the horse, rather elated with her daring (and maybe a bit thrilled by the approval she sensed radiating from the cowboy). "What's his name?" she asked impulsively, continuing to gently touch the horse.
"Well, now that you mention it, Ma'am, we haven't gotten around to picking one yet," Wyatt answered, eyeing her thoughtfully. "Maybe you'd like to choose a name for him?" Her cheeks flushed in pleasure at the suggestion.
"Oh, yes, I'd like that very much." While the men waited patiently, she cast about her mind for something suitable. "Hmm...I would think it might be fitting that a noble animal such as this be given a noble name," Lucy mused out loud. "What about Caesar, after the famous Roman general?" To her delight, Wyatt and James agreed that would be a fine name. Her moment of glory was abruptly cut short, however, when the stallion startled Lucy by rearing up, causing her to stumble backwards a step or two in alarm and nearly fall on her bottom in front of the men–who kindly pretended not to notice her awkwardness.
"I'd say Caesar approves of his new name, wouldn't you agree, Wy?" James interceded smoothly, a twinkle in his blue eyes. Catching sight of the dimpled smile on Wyatt's face he couldn't quite hide as she stiffly regained her balance (if not her composure), Lucy stood still for a second trying to gather the remnants of her dignity as best she could.
Maybe now would be a good time for the walk she had planned. Breathlessly telling the men goodbye, she turned and began walking at a brisk pace across the barn yard. Exactly where she was going, Lucy had no idea-intent only on escaping and taking her embarrassment with her. Chancing a quick peek behind her, she was taken aback to see Wyatt watching her intently...
"What do you suppose that was all about, Gramps?" Wyatt asked, absently patting the restless stallion, his eyes following Lucy's slim figure as she walked away, their Beagle, Spot, slowly getting to his feet and ambling along behind her. "Looked to me like there was more going on than someone feeling unsure around a horse because of a lack of experience...I think I saw something in her eyes that seemed more like genuine fear." He frowned. The teacher's face had gone white as milk in a heartbeat. It would be a real shame if Lucy turned out to be deathly afraid of horses, seeing as how she was staying at a horse ranch for the time being.
"I noticed that also," Gramps acknowledged, turning to watch his guest's hasty retreat with a puzzled expression on his face. "I'd say it's indeed possible Lucy had a bad experience with horses, perhaps when she was a child, or it could simply be that living in the big city all her life, there wasn't really any reason for her to be around them. Hard to tell. Maybe before she moves into town, one of us could offer to take her riding, see how Lucy does with that. After all, while it's difficult for folks like us to comprehend, unfortunately, having a deep-seated fear of horses could be a complication for someone who no longer lives in the city and will most likely need to rely on one at some point in the future."
While Wyatt saw the wisdom in his grandpa's words-and wasn't necessarily adverse to such a thing occurring-he couldn't help a flash of annoyance at the unspoken implication that when Gramps said 'one of us' could offer to take Lucy riding some time, the older man clearly meant Wyatt. And just when he was coming around to the idea of being a little friendlier to the woman. Dammit. Apparently Betsy had neglected to share with her husband that the two of them were (supposedly) giving up on making a match between Wyatt and the school teacher–at least that's what Gran promised him...just yesterday, in fact. His grandparents were incorrigible sometimes...
Shaking his head at the predictably amused expression on James' face (because of course he guessed what Wyatt was thinking), he muttered, "I have work to do. C'mon, Caesar." Although the stallion promptly kicked up his heels in an effort to assert his superior strength, if not intelligence, Wyatt easily kept control and led him back to his stall with no trouble. Slipping the bridle off, he affectionately rubbed the horse's nose, pleasantly surprised when he didn't lose a hand.
"Caesar, huh?" Wyatt considered, looking the horse over and laughing out loud when the animal jerked his head as if to answer, yes, do you have a problem with that? "Guess it does seem like a good name for a proud fellow like you. She may not feel easy around horses, but Miss Preston is definitely a woman who knows her military history." Picking up a large wooden bucket from the corner, he offered Caesar a cool drink of water before handing over a carrot he'd stuck in his pocket as a reward for a good session. It belatedly occurred to Wyatt that he really needed to start stocking the stables with carrots and apples himself before a disgusted Martha up and quit on the family. His grandmother would have three kinds of fits in the unlikely event that ever happened, he snickered under his breath before turning his full attention back to the stallion.
Yes, it was going to take some work and patience, but the Palomino showed real potential as an eventual replacement for Commander as Wyatt's regular mount, he decided, especially now that the ebony stallion was serving as prime stud for the ranch's horse breeding business. Speaking of Commander, he should probably finish up here pretty soon and get himself into town to the smithy. Wyatt had promised Rufus he'd be back to pick up the horse today.
After checking in with Jonah and Charlie, who were just about done with the rest of the morning grooming, Wyatt saddled up one of the other horses to ride into Brady and led it across the yard to the hitching post in front of the house. Stopping at the bottom of the porch steps, he turned and briefly scanned the horizon, but saw no sign of either Lucy or their dog. Wyatt wasn't too concerned, though, figuring a city girl wouldn't likely stray too far away from the farmhouse, and even though he was getting up there in years, good old Spot always knew the way back home.
After swearing to a stern-faced Martha he'd stop by the general store while in town and pick up more carrots and apples for both her kitchen and the stables, Wyatt stepped over to the kitchen sink and began washing his hands. Uncomfortably aware of a pair of wistful blue eyes set on him from a corner of the kitchen, he hurried through the task. Young Katie was a pleasant girl, and proved to be a hard worker as well since the family hired her nearly a year ago, but at just turned 18, she was a good decade younger than Wyatt. That big of an age gap might not matter to other men who had matrimony on their minds, but it wasn't his preference...if and when it ever came to choosing another wife. Therefore, he was never more than polite to the girl, aware it would be unkind to give Katie any kind of encouragement for her feelings.
Briskly drying his hands, he wondered idly how old Lucy Preston was. Gran probably knew since she was the one who hired her from the women's college. Not that it mattered. Still, if he had to guess, Wyatt figured she might be a couple years younger than him, maybe around 24 or 25-the same age Jess would be if she'd lived. Not that it mattered. For a brief second, his heart twinged sharply, as it always did, on the rare occasion he let himself think of his sweet wife's life being cut brutally short. He shook his head to clear it. For God's sake, being kind to a female guest of the family and asking said guest to marry him were two completely different actions that had positively nothing to do with each other. Not that it mattered...
Although it was a fine day for a ride and Wyatt always enjoyed spending time in the saddle, his mind kept drifting back to Lucy and the genuine fear in her eyes when the stallion started acting up. Most times, it was hard for someone like him who loved and respected horses-having been raised around them since he was a small child-to comprehend the real apprehension another person might feel toward the beautiful but intimidating animals. His lips curved at recalling the look of wonder on the teacher's pretty face when she bravely patted Caesar. If anyone could overcome a long-standing fear, Wyatt had a feeling a woman like Lucy Preston could. It probably would be a kindness to take her on a ride or two...as long as his grandparents didn't get the wrong idea about Wyatt's motives.
Brady was bustling on this cool but sunny Saturday morning, with folks hurrying up and down the street taking care of various errands they usually put off until the end of the week. Making his way past the general store, barbershop, Brady National Bank and Miss Emma's saloon to the smithy on the other end of town, Wyatt nodded and tipped his hat here and there to people he knew–which was nearly everyone he saw. Pulling his mount to a halt in front of Rufus' livery, he swung out of the saddle and tied the horse to the hitching rail before heading inside. The air inside the dimly-lit stable was cool, despite it being nearly the middle of the day. "Rufus?" he called out, easily finding the stall holding Commander, who neighed at him in recognition. After a moment, his friend appeared.
"About time you got here," the blacksmith grumbled with a irritated frown, wiping at his brow with a worn rag. "That too-smart-for-his-own-good beast of yours is about to eat up all my hard-earned profits, Wyatt Logan. Been fed at least twice since you dropped him off yesterday afternoon, and he still wants more, banging his nose against the empty feed bucket. Ain't never seen a horse ravenous hungry like that all the time." Wyatt grinned at his disgruntled friend. It was true the ebony horse enjoyed putting away the feed in large amounts, but also true that Rufus was pretty damn funny when he got his mad on.
"Nah, most likely Commander is bored silly being stuck here at your boring livery instead of spending his time at the ranch romancing our mares," he joked, reaching out to fondly stroke his stallion's broad neck, chuckling when the animal began sniffing eagerly at Wyatt's jacket pocket-probably looking for a treat. "Now then, how much do I owe you for the new shoe, blacksmith?" Wyatt asked, gently pushing Commander's nose aside and reaching in his pocket for the money.
"I guess two bits will cover it," his friend answered grudgingly, "although your horse probably ate at least that much in food since he's been here." He deftly caught the two quarters Wyatt tossed to him. "Well, thanks, Wyatt, much appreciated," he said, smiling at the double payment and slipping the coins into his apron pocket, pleased to be reimbursed for the shoe and Commander's gluttony.
Rufus had just gotten started sharing the newest town gossip when they suddenly heard a deep voice from the open doorway. "Well, hello there, boys," Dave Baumgardner greeted them, pushing his Stetson off his forehead and regarding them soberly. Wyatt stiffened ever so slightly. It was the first time he'd seen his fellow ex-Ranger since they had words about Lucy Preston last Sunday after church services–an uncomfortable situation that was entirely of his own making. Dammit. He sighed mentally. Never let it be said that Wyatt Logan was too good to make amends when it was called for. Aware of the others watching him closely, Wyatt resolutely stepped forward and offered his hand.
"Afternoon, sheriff," he said evenly, relieved when after a second, the man gripped Wyatt's hand quite firmly. The two stared at each other with narrowed eyes before breaking into big grins. He and Dave had been through many a fire fight during their years as Texas Rangers, and Wyatt knew it would've been a damn shame to let a woman come between them–even a fine one as pretty and smart as the new school teacher. And just like that, the air was cleared. Although he knew his friend certainly didn't expect any type of fussy, formal apology, Wyatt decided on the spot it would be considered a peace offering to buy lunch for both men at Miss Emma's–which they predictably accepted with enthusiasm.
"That's right kind of you, Captain Logan," the sheriff said approvingly, punching Wyatt hard on the arm. "Emma's cook makes damn good sandwiches. Well, c'mon, let's get to it, boys." Wyatt and Rufus exchanged amused glances. One thing you could always say about Dave Baumgardner was number one, the usually good-natured man very seldom held a grudge, and number two, like Wyatt's horse, he was always hungry. A few minutes later, the three men settled in at one of the round tables near the back of the saloon and began digging into thick ham and cheese sandwiches on rye served with big dill pickles and of course, tall, brimming glasses of beer.
Even though it had been less than a week since the men had seen each other, there was plenty to catch up on. Rufus usually heard all the news fit to be heard between running the smithy and the livery, and to Wyatt's continued amusement, never missed a chance to pass it on. As for Captain Baumgardner, after retiring from the Rangers around the same time as Wyatt and being hired as town sheriff, he would occasionally consult Wyatt on certain matters of the law–even deputizing him a couple times here and there when he was short handed at the jail. Today, he had some interesting news to share about a particularly dangerous gang of bank robbers raising hell north of them along the Texas-Oklahoma border.
Finishing off the rest of his lunch, Wyatt leaned back and regarded his friends fondly as they ignored him and sniped at each other. As usual when Dave and Rufus were around each other for any length of time, they'd get to arguing over something inconsequential, but Wyatt never minded because it did make for an entertaining way to pass the time. He had just pulled out his pocket watch to check the time since he still needed to stop by the general store before heading home when the sheriff drained the last of his beer and set the glass down with a thump.
Elbowing Rufus, who happened to be sipping at his own beer and nearly choked, he stared intently across the table at Wyatt and drawled, "So, Wy, I heard at the barbershop this morning that someone who looked a hell of a lot like you picked up the lovely new teacher at school yesterday afternoon. Have to say, I was rather surprised, what with it being a well-known fact around town about you being dead set against forming any kind of meaningful relationship with a lady..." Wyatt cringed at the mischievous expression on Dave's face. Aww, hell. Should've know his friend would never be able to resist busting Wyatt's ass over something like this. Well, it was nice while it lasted...
A/N: It would seem Wyatt is just now figuring out that it isn't only his grandparents who think Miss Lucy Preston would make him a fine second wife, lol :p And as emotional as Lucy felt when she learned from James that Wyatt lost both parents as a small boy, just wait until she happens upon the family cemetery :/ (Angsty times ahead, my friends.) Full disclosure: The more I get into this story, the more I think it's gonna be another lengthy one like First Steps (which I'm still working on, truly, I swear) and Guarding My Heart. I love playing in the AU sandbox with Wyatt and Lucy, and of course, it's such a pleasure to write for my fellow Timeless fans. My appreciation as always to those readers kind enough to favorite, follow and review my stories :))