Chapter 8

A/N #1: Apologies to my Timeless friend and fellow author, the talented Once Upon A Whim, who requested that Wyatt and Lucy start spending more time together. I agree and really tried to do that in this chapter, but I'm afraid the cowboy and the teacher had a lot on their minds and just weren't cooperating very well this time around, sorry :/ Next update for sure, promise...

Thankfully, the morning's embarrassment was soon forgotten the farther away Lucy got from the unsettling blue-eyed gaze of Wyatt Logan. She scanned her surroundings, eagerly taking in the wild, unspoiled beauty of the Texas countryside and relishing the clean, fresh air pinking her cheeks. Accompanied by the Sherwins' dog, Spot, Lucy had been walking at a steady, invigorating pace for maybe ten minutes or so when off in the distance, she spotted a fairly level, squared-off area enclosed by a split-rail fence. Moving closer, she slowly came to a halt just outside an opening in the fence, intrigued in spite of herself at the sight of several small, hand-carved wooden crosses. It was a tiny cemetery.

She paused, her hand absently stroking the dog's head when he patiently sat on his haunches beside her while she debated whether or not it was an invasion of her hosts' privacy to enter and look around. Lucy certainly didn't want to behave rudely or offend anyone, but in addition to possessing a healthy amount of curiosity, history had been one of her favorite subjects in school...

Hastily glancing behind her, she didn't see anyone and heard nothing but the faint whistling of the chilly wind as it blew in and around the low hills and ruffled the wavy strands of hair framing her face. "Well, what do you think, Spot? Would it be impolite to indulge my curiosity?" Lucy whimsically asked the hound, who merely wagged his tail and gazed adoringly at her. She grinned and leaned over to scratch behind one soft furry ear. "What's that you say? We should take a quick peek? That's what I think, too. Thank you, kind sir, for your wise counsel."

With the faithful Spot by her side, she stepped into the cemetery, noting at first glance around a half dozen hand-carved crosses dotting neatly-spaced plots. Bowing her head, Lucy whispered a quick prayer before proceeding. The first well-worn marker she came upon was for a married couple.

Benjamin Matthew Sherwin - Husband

B. 1789 D. 1852

Ruth Walker Sherwin - Wife

B. 1794 D. 1854

Rapidly doing the math in her head, she guessed the deceased husband and wife, both of whom lived to be in their early sixties, were likely the parents of James Sherwin. Just behind the well-tended double plot were two single graves, each with its own modest cross that bore the name Sherwin as well. These then were presumably his brothers–one of whom was sadly only a child when he died.

Charles Walker Sherwin - Son

B. 1812 D. 1820

Samuel Levi Sherwin - Son

B. 1816 D. 1861

It seemed likely that most, if not all, of Mr. Sherwin's entire immediate family was buried here, and of course, eventually, some (hopefully far off) day, he and his wife would be also. It was quite peaceful here. She imagined it was probably a comfort to the family to have their loved ones resting nearby. Things were definitely different here in the country than the big city she hailed from.

Her late parents, Henry and Caroline Preston, were buried side by side on a gentle, shady slope by the bay in San Francisco's oldest cemetery. As far back as Lucy could remember, she and her father would take fresh flowers to her mother's grave once a month and also at Christmas–up until Papa's illness progressed to the point he was unable to physically make the trip. While she obviously hadn't visited the cemetery in person since leaving California five years ago, Lucy had nonetheless made standing arrangements beforehand with a reputable florist for a large arrangement to be placed on their graves each year on the day of her birth–preferring not to memorialize their deaths but to express love and appreciation for giving her life.

In the far right corner of the small cemetery was another double plot sharing a single cross. Lucy's steps faltered as she drew near enough to read part of the carving.

John Wyatt Logan - Husband

B. 1831 D. 1856

Elizabeth Anne Logan - Wife

B. 1834 D. 1856

Somberly noting the names and dates, her heart twinged sympathetically at the realization that these must be Wyatt's parents. Here was the resting place of the Sherwins' only child, who, along with her husband, tragically died of cholera, leaving behind a small son. (How ironic Mr. Sherwin had shared the story of how Wyatt came to live at the ranch with her just a short time earlier.)

Unconsciously putting a hand over her chest, Lucy stared at the cross for a long moment, unaccountably saddened by the family's loss...and helpless to keep from picturing in her head how very young Wyatt would've been when his mother and father passed away. Poor little boy. How frightened and alone he must've felt during those early days. Thank heavens for his loving grandparents, who'd taken the orphaned child in and raised him as their own.

Exhaling harshly, Lucy's eye was caught by a single grave set off by itself in the opposite corner from Wyatt's parents. Intrigued, her gaze narrowed thoughtfully as she moved closer. Wait...did that say Logan? Had the poor man lost a sibling as well as his parents? Coming to a halt at the foot of the grave, she gasped in shock at the simple cross marking the plot...because it wasn't a brother or sister of Wyatt's buried here, but unbelievably, much, much worse...

Jessica Mary Logan - Wife

B. 1856 D. 1879

Matthew Wyatt Logan - Son

B. 1878 D. 1879

Wife? Son? It couldn't be. Please, no. Shocked by the harsh evidence of an even greater loss suffered by Wyatt, Lucy dropped to her knees beside the cross, heedless of the cold ground dampening her skirt. Barely aware of the elderly dog pushing against her side as if to offer meager comfort, her fingers slowly traced the names.

Surely the Lord in all his infinite wisdom wouldn't be so cruel to a family who'd already experienced such tremendous sorrow over the years? But it seemed he had, because before her very eyes was the heartbreaking proof that Wyatt had once been married for a time...had even fathered a son...and both wife and child taken away from him not so very long ago. One part of her mind dimly noted that the ill-fated Jessica Logan–who happened to have been born the same year as Lucy–was only 23 years old when she passed (not much older than Wyatt's own mother had lived to be) and the son she'd given her husband barely more than a baby. What an unthinkable tragedy...

Her stomach began to churn uneasily. Lucy swallowed hard as she guiltily recalled the numerous times since meeting him a week ago she'd wistfully wondered to herself why a decent, hard-working (and very handsome) man such as Wyatt Logan didn't already have a wife and several children. How utterly shallow of her, because here then was the devastating reason. In that very moment, she couldn't help but recall the wise adage from Aesop's Fables about 'being careful what you wish for' now that the distressing answer to her damned curiosity was right here in front of her.

Overwhelmed by her emotions (yet unable to understand precisely why), she sat back on her heels and closing her eyes, fought against the sudden tears that threatened to spill over. Why was this knowledge affecting her so strongly? It was all terribly confusing. Lucy had known this family for a mere seven days-yet even in such a short amount of time, she'd come to like and respect James and Betsy Sherwin very much.

As for their grandson? Only in the secret depths of her heart could Lucy admit the surprising, instant (perhaps initially superficial) attraction she felt for the quiet, good-looking cowboy since the very moment they met had inexplicably begun to deepen as the days passed and she spent more time around him. And that was before learning of the tragedies the man had overcome in his young life thus far...

Lucy shivered, chilled by the suddenly desolate late winter wind. She needed some time to herself to think. Even to Lucy's own ears, her voice sounded strangely hoarse when she petted the dog and said, "Let's go home, Spot. I've had enough exercise for today." Stiffly getting to her feet, she paused for one last look at the cross before walking out of the cemetery, the faithful hound beside her. Minutes later, the farmhouse came into view. Mercifully for her fraught state of mind, the barnyard was deserted. She shrank from coming face to face with anyone while her feelings were so raw...least of all, Wyatt Logan...

At the bottom of the steps, Lucy stopped long enough to gently scratch behind the dog's ears and tell him, 'go on, now, there's a good boy,' before going inside and straight to her room, fortunately encountering no one. After stripping off her coat, she washed her face and hands before stretching out on the bed to stare at the ceiling in an effort to calm her tumultuous emotions...and consider the shocking information she'd accidentally discovered...

Seeing how it was the middle of Saturday afternoon, the saloon was pretty quiet as the three friends talked and hungrily worked their through the pile of sandwiches the daytime bartender set before them. Most of the men who would fill the place to the rafters tonight drinking and gambling (and 'flirting' with Emma's girls) hadn't yet finished work for the day. Wyatt, however, wouldn't be one of those hanging around tonight. He wasn't about to make two trips into town on the same day unless it was positively necessary, especially when church services were tomorrow morning.

At least Dave finally got the hint and laid off on the subject of Lucy Preston. Unwilling to give his annoying friend the satisfaction of knowing his teasing might possibly have hit a nerve, Wyatt gritted his teeth mentally and forced himself to smirk good-naturedly before changing the subject and skillfully sidestepping the sheriff's pointed questions (since it was nobody's damn business whether or not he'd escorted the teacher home from school yesterday).

Instead, Wyatt passed the time once he was done eating by barely paying attention to his friends bicker over something trivial as they were wont to do. And since he was planning on staying at home this evening, wondered idly if Lucy could be talked into reading to the family some more after supper. Gramps wasn't the only one who enjoyed listening to her...

His pleasant thoughts of the teacher's appealing voice and manner were abruptly interrupted by Dave. "Listen, fellas, let's keep this between the three of us for now so as to avoid panicking the good people of Brady, but I got a telegram yesterday morning warning that Jesse James' new gang has abandoned Missouri and based themselves out of Oklahoma. Also heard they been dipping a toe across the Texas border now and again, and getting bolder each time," he said somberly. Rufus' eyes widened in dismay.

Wyatt's ongoing irritation with his close friend immediately disappeared. This was a serious matter. He and Dave had themselves chased the James brothers on several assignments during their Rangering years. The two outlaws and the men who rode with them had proved themselves to be damn ruthless at times–and not a one afraid to shed blood or take innocent lives.

"That's unpleasant news for sure," Wyatt observed with a faint frown. "I knew the original gang split up after the Younger brothers were captured up in Minnesota back in '76. Probably not too surprising that Jesse and Frank got themselves a new gang, though. Those boys don't know nothing but living to break the law any way they can. Are you thinking they really might head this far south?" Jesus...no wonder Dave appeared to be a touch concerned.

His friend shrugged and reflected, "Well, I 'spose it all depends on how bold or even worse, desperate, these no-good bastards get. Our little town may seem like slim pickings in the middle of nowhere to decent, law-abiding folks like us, but small or not, we do have a bank and general store-both dealing in ready cash money that can be grabbed up pretty damn quick by a man willing to point a shotgun in your face. Plus, if you remember any of your geography from school, Wy, on the map, Brady does lie in a fairly direct line between the Okie border and San Antone to the south and Austin to the southeast as the crow flies if they decide to risk coming this far into Texas."

Dave was right–and Wyatt sure as hell didn't care for the picture he painted so vividly. The three men discussed the worrying situation a little longer, with Rufus promising to keep an eye (and ear) out for anything suspicious on his end of town, and Wyatt reluctantly agreeing to be deputized if it came to that. While content with his life after putting that kind of danger and bloodshed behind him, he did possess years of experience in law enforcement and couldn't in good conscience not help when needed.

Heartily thanking his friends for their cooperation, the sheriff swallowed the rest of his oversized sandwich and wiping his mouth, eyed Wyatt intently. Aww, hell. Wyatt knew that contemplative look quite well and his heart sank. Apparently his sidestepping skills were a bit rusty today. Should've known Dave would not easily pass up a chance to torment him...

"So, Captain Logan, since you stubbornly ignored me nosing around earlier when I was trying to be all casual and easygoing about it, I'm just gonna ask you straight out, man to man: do you or do you not have your eye on the very comely Miss Preston? Before you answer, a word of advice, brother. What with the scarcity of unmarried women of a certain age around these parts–especially ones who look as nice as she does-you might not wanna take too long to decide. Because right off the top of my head, I can think of at least a half dozen men who would be quite pleased to court the pretty teacher." Wyatt's temper heated in an instant, his right hand itching to punch the smirk clean off the other man's face. Dammit, Baumgardner...

Wincing sympathetically at Dave's blatant jab (and well familiar with Wyatt's quick temper), Rufus devoted his attention to finishing his meal, unwilling to get in the middle of his two friends. Wyatt forced himself to breathe slowly in and out and mentally count to ten. C'mon, Dave, can you just give it a rest? Luckily, as it turned out, though, Wyatt was saved from starting a fight or even answering at all when without warning, the saloon doors swung wide open and Dave was summoned by a highly-indignant Joe the barber to break up a ruckus at the barbershop.

Watching the sheriff leave, Rufus shook his head. "I know he's our friend, but damn, Wy, the man is also like an old hound dog hanging on to a bone, purely stubborn to the core. And he sure knows how to poke at people." Wyatt nodded ruefully in agreement. Dave Baumgardner was a fine lawman and all around decent human being, but definitely had a bad habit of not knowing when to back down and keep his big mouth shut at times.

Pulling some money from his pocket to pay for the meal, he dropped it in the center of the table for the barkeep and followed his friend out, making a brief stop first at the general store for a burlap sack of apples and carrots to appease Martha (and stay on her good side). Back at the livery, Wyatt made arrangements with Rufus to pick up the horse he came into town on tomorrow after church so he could ride Commander back to the ranch.

Giving the restless stallion his head once they were clear of town, man and horse flew down the dusty road toward home. Wyatt reveled in the crisp February air rushing past him as Commander's powerful long legs easily ate up the distance. There were few joys in life as satisfying as riding, to his way of thinking. He barely remembered the first time Gramps sat Wyatt on the back of a horse, a sweet-natured mare named Sally, mere days after losing Mama and Daddy and going to live with his grandparents.

Those were dark days indeed for his family. Many a time growing up, Wyatt heard Gran say–usually when she thought her grandson was out of earshot–that it was probably a blessing he'd been so young when John and Libby Logan passed away from the cholera. Sometimes, though, his mind cleared and he could recall brief flashes of his parents...like his mother's pretty light blue eyes and gentle smile and how she would read to him every night before bedtime...the way his quiet, dark-haired father would patiently build tall towers with the wooden blocks Gramps had made Wyatt no matter how many times he gleefully knocked them over. Yes, the Logan home had been full of love and happiness. That much, he did remember...

As for Wyatt's strong bond with horses, James Sherwin had been breeding and raising horses since before his daughter was born, and felt encouraging his grandson to love and respect the magnificent animals could only help the child heal from his tragic loss. And naturally, wise as he was, Gramps had been right. Maybe that was why it bothered Wyatt to think that Lucy was afraid of horses. The very concept was so completely foreign to him. After mulling it over, by the time he and Commander galloped through the iron archway that read Sherwin Ranch, Wyatt had made the decision to approach the teacher and offer to teach her to ride–not caring to over think why it was so important to him...

After taking Commander to the stables and giving him a brisk, well-deserved rubdown and some food and water, Wyatt started across the barnyard to the back door but thankfully remembered just in time that it was laundry day and hurriedly turned himself in the opposite direction toward the front of the farmhouse. Bad enough that he'd forgotten from time to time in the past and inadvertently gotten a glimpse of his Gran's unmentionables drying on the clothes line at the back of the house (shuddering at the very thought). Now that a beautiful young woman like Lucy was staying with the family, Wyatt might have a stray thought or two on the subject but would probably never be able to look her in the eyes if he ever knew for a true fact exactly what she wore under her elegant clothing...unless...unless it was something she could put on under her usual clothes for modesty's sake in order to ride a horse astride...

Closing the front door behind him, he stopped by the kitchen first to leave the burlap bag on the work table for the housekeeper before hurrying into the front room to find Gramps peacefully snoring on the sofa while Gran sat in her rocker by the crackling fireplace, her knitting needles busily clicking away. "There you are, dear. Did Rufus get Commander all taken care of for you?" she asked softly, mindful not to disturb her husband's daily afternoon nap. Taking a seat in the other rocker beside her, they chatted quietly for a few minutes before Wyatt remembered about wanting to (hopefully) take Lucy riding before supper–mentally crossing his fingers his grandmother wouldn't get her matchmaking hopes up from his request. It would merely be a riding lesson, not courting the woman or anything, he told himself firmly.

Wyatt took a deep breath before diving in. "Say, Gran, would there happen to be any of my old clothes up in the attic, like maybe a pair or two of my old britches from when I was a boy?" he asked as casually as possible. At her puzzled expression, Wyatt hurriedly explained he and Gramps had gotten the impression this morning from Lucy that she might be afraid of horses, and he was thinking of offering to take her riding to see if it would help. The problem was there were no side saddles on the ranch, and it occurred to Wyatt she might be more comfortable riding astride if she were to wear a pair of pants under her skirt.

Unsurprisingly, a clearly pleased Betsy regarded him approvingly before replying, "Actually, that's not a bad idea and very considerate of you, Wy. James told me a little about your conversation with Lucy this morning. Yes, I believe there is still a trunk of your old things in the attic. I imagine you'd find a pair of pants or two in there, although hard as you were on your clothes as a boy, they might be a bit threadbare in places. Still...if the poor thing has developed an aversion to them, do you really think you can persuade her to get on a horse?"

At Wyatt's determined, 'yes, Ma'am,' Gran smiled, informing him Lucy had gone up to her room after lunch to work on next week's lesson plans. Nodding in satisfaction, he turned to leave when she called his name and told him in a low voice, "Wyatt? You're a kind, honorable man with a big heart, and your grandpa and I are quite proud of you." His chest felt a little tight at the unmistakable love for him–and maybe a tear or two-shining in her bright blue eyes.

Clearing his throat gruffly, Wyatt responded solemnly, "Well, I reckon if I'm any of those things, Gran, it's because I was lucky enough to have had you and Gramps for my Mama and Daddy." Flashing Betsy a dimpled grin, he bent down and used his thumb to wipe away the tear slipping down her soft cheek. They grinned at each other affectionately before a deep voice interrupted the emotional moment.

"Well, congratulations, you've gone and done it, son. Your grandma will sit here and knit and cry for at least an hour," his grandpa said dryly, cracking open one eye to glare at those responsible for disturbing his daily nap. "Now go away and let me sleep in peace," James pretended to grumble, though Wyatt thought perhaps he heard a bit of telltale emotion thickening the older man's voice as well.

Taking the steps two at a time, he briefly glanced at their guest's door to make certain it was shut before making his way along the upstairs hallway to the door leading to the attic. Because Betsy Sherwin was always very particular about things being all neat and tidy even in a place like the seldom-visited attic, it took Wyatt not even five minutes to locate the large trunk over by the window marked simply, 'Wyatt.' Sinking to his knees, he lifted the lid and inhaling the faint scent of lemon verbena, began looking through his past. It soon appeared his grandmother was loathe to throw away anything from Wyatt's childhood.

He sifted through a pile of school papers, an old wooden yoyo he'd spent hours practicing with as a small boy, a couple of story books Gran used to read to him at bedtime, even his old stuffed bear, Johnny (named after Wyatt's father). Near the bottom of the trunk Wyatt came across what he was seeking. In addition to his first real cowboy hat (that looked impossibly small to his adult eyes), there was a neatly-folded stack of various boy-sized pants and shirts. Pulling out a pair of pants that looked to be about the right size, Wyatt shook the wrinkles out and held them up in front of the light coming through the window for inspection.

Obviously, he had no idea in hell what size garments Lucy Preston wore, but Wyatt had put his hands around her tiny waist to lift the teacher in and out of the carriage and wagon a few times this past week. Underneath all those heavy winter clothes, her petite but womanly figure seemed to be very slim, and he doubted she weighed much more than a hundred pounds–maybe one ten. Wyatt decided his old pants would therefore fit her well enough to wear under a skirt.

Grabbing a second pair of pants from the trunk, he set them aside and carefully re-packed everything. He smiled wistfully at Johnny, who by rights, should've belonged to his baby son. Oh how I miss you, sweet little Mattie, Wyatt thought, swallowing hard against the sudden flash of grief. Exhaling roughly, he tenderly patted the well-loved old bear and closed the trunk, willing away the lingering sadness–at least for the moment. Today was not the day for that because he was a man on a mission. Picking up the pants with a pensive sigh, Wyatt went back down the steps and headed toward Lucy's bedroom door...

A/N #2: Aww, c'mon Gracie, NO scenes of Lucy and Wyatt together AND a cliffhanger, too? (Ducking for cover...) Truly sorry, friends, for the cliffie, but this seemed like an appropriate place to stop. The good news is that because this chapter weirdly took a turn I wasn't expecting, I had already written like, around 2,000 words that I couldn't make fit here but will probably be included in the next update. Plus, I really want to do justice to Wyatt and Lucy's riding scene. Thanks so much to those readers still interested in Timeless stories. Your favorites, follows and nice reviews always brighten my day :))