Chapter 11

A/N #1: Super quick shout out to those guest readers who've left such nice reviews for this story and the rest of my fics. Just want you to know that I very much appreciate you reading and reviewing :))

Saturday

February 19

Picking up his gold pocket watch from the table beside the bed, he saw it was near 6:00 o'clock. Outside his bedroom window, the wintry sun had set, daylight giving way to the soft, purplish dusk preceding crisp, starry darkness. Off in the distance, a few clouds were building up, but nothing to be concerned about since the rain probably wouldn't come through until after midnight, and (if God was feeling merciful towards Wyatt Logan this evening) they should be home long before that.

Tucking the watch in his pocket, Wyatt figured any second now, his grandmother would be knocking on his door, anxious to leave for the social, seeing as how she and the pastor's wife were in charge of the refreshments. It was well known to most folks around Brady after all these years how particular Betsy Sherwin tended to be about wanting everything "just so."

Still, no one seemed to mind since both Sherwins were well liked and highly respected in these parts. Gran had a real creative way about her and as far back as he could remember, enjoyed making things around her nice for her family and really, the community in general since they lived so far away from any of the amenities found in the big city. (Personally, Wyatt couldn't think of a single thing the city had to offer that could compare to life on the frontier with wide open spaces that gave a man plenty of breathing room.)

At least one thing she wouldn't have to worry her head about this evening was the big carriage being ready when it was time to leave. After supper, he excused himself while the ladies went upstairs to get dressed for the dance and dutifully went out to the barn to harness Angus, one of their two Morgans, to it. Because it was the middle of February and still a bit chilly for riding to town and back in an open carriage after dark, Wyatt made sure to place a soft wool blanket across the second seat to cover the ladies' laps and keep them warm. Once everything was ready to his satisfaction, he led the horse and rig to the hitching post out front before heading inside to get cleaned up.

Inside his room, he was grateful to see a steaming basin of water on the wash stand with a fresh towel folded neatly beside it, and made a mental note to thank Martha in the morning. Rubbing his hand across his jaw, he frowned ruefully. Gran would skin him if he didn't shave, so he probably better get to it. Sinking down on the side of the bed to pull off his dusty boots, Wyatt sighed in resignation. He was not looking forward to this evening.

Unless a man was going courting–something which he definitely had no intentions of doing–getting all slicked up in his Sunday best was pretty near dead last on the list of things Wyatt enjoyed doing on a Saturday night. Couldn't be helped, though. He had no choice but to man up and get through the next few dull, boring hours as best he could, dammit. Self imposed or not, he had a duty to fulfill this evening...and never let it be said by any man that Wyatt Logan shirked his duties. With another heavy sigh, he began stripping off his dirty clothes to get himself washed up.

Fully dressed less than a half hour later in the crisp white shirt and his good church pants the housekeeper had pressed this afternoon, his boots polished to a dull shine, Wyatt stood in front of the small mirror above the wash stand and fiddled restlessly with his black string tie, trying to get the silly thing to lay right. He gazed somberly at his reflection. Clean shaven, his usually messy chestnut hair brushed neatly off his forehead, Wyatt supposed he looked presentable enough to attend a dance he'd been dreading all week.

As he was slipping into his jacket with the black suede lapels, as anticipated, there was a brisk knock on the door. "C'mon in, Gran," Wyatt called out, hiding his smirk when it opened all the way to reveal Betsy Sherwin neatly garbed in her one of her Sunday dresses, the dark blue one with little yellow flowers her husband was partial to (as Wyatt recalled). Not for the first time since losing Jess, he felt slightly envious of the strong, loving bond between his grandparents, even after being married more than forty years.

"All ready to go, Wy? Your grandpa is putting the food Martha prepared in the carriage so we can leave as soon as you and Lucy are ready." She walked over and stopped in front of Wyatt to smooth his lapels and fuss a bit with his tie, a motherly gesture that had him hiding an affectionate smile. She just couldn't help herself...

Looking down at the diminutive woman who'd raised him, Wyatt teased gently, "You do realize, Gran, I'm 28 years old and a retired Texas Ranger who can fully dress himself, right?" He chuckled at her faintly defensive frown.

"Well, of course I know that...just want my handsome grandson to look his very best, is all," Betsy huffed, pinching his cheek lightly. She regarded him fondly for a moment. "Wyatt, your grandpa and I are both well aware that you're not much for gatherings like this social–never have been, really-so we appreciate you making the effort this evening, especially since it will be nice for Lucy to have someone familiar by her side who's closer to her own age than James and I, someone she feels comfortable with."

Naturally, Wyatt's shoulders immediately stiffened up at what he perceived was another of Gran's less than subtle hints about him and the teacher. Before he could nip that in the bud, however, Betsy easily read his expression (no doubt from years of experience) and hastened to add it didn't mean she expected him to dance with Lucy or any other woman in attendance this evening, for that matter.

"Now, don't get your back up, dear," she soothed in a rather condescending tone, an amused twinkle in her bright blue eyes, "jumping to conclusions and thinking I'm trying to push you into something you don't want to do–as if I ever could, stubborn to the bone as you are, Wyatt Logan," patting his cheek affectionately. "My goodness, I predict there'll be no shortage of dance partners at the social for a young lady as pretty and refined as Miss Preston. The very idea. I'm sure it's safe to say it won't be necessary for you to keep her from turning into a wallflower."

With that blithe (and possibly insulting?) pronouncement, she turned with a chuckle and left Wyatt staring after her with a dark frown. Well maybe that was part of the problem, he grumbled under his breath, reaching for his gun belt and buckling it snugly around his waist. He picked up his gun from the top of the dresser, quickly checking to make sure it was loaded. Watching the gleaming cylinder spin, Wyatt grinned suddenly. The first man who dared make an improper move on the school teacher would recognize his mistake in a big hurry. The thought cheered him considerably as he thumbed on the safety before sliding the gun into his holster.

He wasn't surprised to notice Lucy's door was still closed when he walked past. In Wyatt's admittedly limited experience living with women (which would be his grandmother and late wife), they tended to take longer getting themselves ready any day of the week, but especially for an occasion like a dance. Downstairs, James had come back inside and was helping his wife with her winter coat. Wyatt stepped past them and was reaching for his hat from the row of hooks besides the door when he heard his grandpa let loose a soft whistle. Confused, he turned around in time to see their guest slowly descend the steps.

Aww, hell...Even as his unsuspecting heart jerked oddly once or twice in his chest before calming back down, in that instant, Wyatt Logan was absolutely, one hundred percent certain of two things...

In her fancy party dress, Miss Lucy Preston from San Francisco was one of the most beautiful women he'd even seen...

And dear Lord, but it was going to be a long-ass, miserable night watching this woman in the arms of probably every man attending the social...one after the other. Dammit, he really hated it when Sheriff Baumgardner was right...

Barely aware of his grandparents openly looking back and forth between him and Lucy, every scrap of the good manners Betsy Sherwin had drilled into her grandson since he was just a small boy seemed to have vanished, leaving him standing there staring at the brunette like a half addled fool. But to be fair, there wasn't a man alive who'd blame him, Wyatt's overwhelmed brain was quick to observe. Not when she looked as pretty and fresh as spring in a pink and white dress with short sleeves and a very full skirt that made her waist look impossibly tiny. So small, he could probably wrap both hands around it, Wyatt thought absently, unable to take his eyes off the young woman.

"Oh, I hope I haven't made us late," Lucy apologized breathlessly to everyone when she got to the bottom of the steps, her winter coat draped over one slim arm while she nervously smoothed the front of her skirt with the other hand. Why was it so damn warm in here? Wyatt thought abruptly, tugging futilely at his suddenly constrictive shirt collar.

Since he was apparently having trouble drawing a full breath-let alone speak-his grandpa hastily answered on behalf of their family. "Not at all," James said genially, "And may I say you look quite fetching this evening, Miss Lucy." She blushed prettily, rosy lips curving slightly in response to the handsome compliment. Murmuring her thanks, Lucy suddenly fixed those tawny brown eyes directly on Wyatt, who tried manfully, but couldn't seem to look away (or make his feet move), even with his grandparents standing right there, watching the whole scene with great interest.

While his brain might be a bit on the hazy side at the moment, unfortunately, he had no trouble at all reading the wide-eyed, seemingly innocent expression on the teacher's pretty face. Wyatt had a passing familiarity with that look, having seen it sent his way occasionally from women he encountered over the years (even when his wife was still alive). He was uncomfortably aware some females might find his looks pleasing-something during their years serving with the Rangers that never failed to amuse the absolute hell out of Dave Baumgardner, who liked to joke he guessed it was understandable since Wyatt's face wasn't too "hideous" to look at. Asshole.

Mercifully, Gran took pity on her embarrassment of a grandson and smiling at their guest, exclaimed, "Oh, what a lovely strand of pearls you're wearing, Lucy." Though grateful to the woman for filling the awkward silence, unfortunately, the remark only served to draw Wyatt's attention to Lucy's graceful neck and all that pale, soft-looking skin temptingly displayed above the modest neckline of her dress.

He dimly heard Lucy explain the pearls had belonged to her mother and a gift from her father on her 16th birthday. Another second passed in silence before Betsy Sherwin's patience with him apparently ran its course. Sending Wyatt a pitying glance, she shook her head, and taking her husband's arm, hissed reprovingly, "My heavens, Wyatt, remember your manners," under her breath before practically dragging a clearly entertained James out the front door and shutting it behind them. Once more it was painfully quiet, just he and Lucy staring at each other. Get a grip, Logan, because this was ridiculous...

Swallowing against the big lump in his throat, Wyatt rushed forward and reaching for Lucy's coat, stepped behind her. "Here, let me help," he said gruffly, intent only on getting the teacher into the coat as quickly as possible so they could be on their way (hopefully, with at least part of his dignity intact). No such luck. Standing right behind Lucy, close enough for her wide skirts to brush the front of his trousers, not only did the bewitching floral scent she was wearing (was it violets?) fill his nostrils, but Wyatt couldn't help but notice the way the brunette trembled ever so slightly. And all that was before he was seized with an insane desire to press his lips to the delicate skin just behind her ear. Jesus, man, pull yourself together.

"Wyatt?" Lucy asked hesitantly, glancing over her shoulder at him, "Is something wrong? Your grandparents are waiting and we don't want to be late..." Before she could actually turn and face him full on, he desperately reached for one of her thin, delicate wrists and carefully guided it into the coat sleeve, grateful when she said nothing further, merely held out the other arm while keeping her gaze forward.

"I'm fine," he bit off, tugging the coat up her bare arms and settling it on her narrow shoulders, fighting the impulse to let his hands linger. Pretending not to see the way Lucy turned her head at his brusque tone to eye him curiously, Wyatt moved around her to retrieve his hat and stick it on his head before politely holding the door open and ushering her outside. The early evening air felt refreshingly cool on his flushed face, and he took several deep breaths. Accustomed now after two weeks to needing his help getting in and out of the carriage, Lucy stopped and waited, favoring Wyatt with a shy, expectant smile as he approached.

Moving close to wrap his hands around her slim waist, he easily lifted her onto the seat beside his grandmother, every damn one of his senses stirred by her nearness despite trying terribly hard not to let that happen. The heat rose in his face once more at the unintentional–but oh, so tempting-glimpse he got of trim ankles in silk stockings under several frilly white petticoats as Lucy got herself situated comfortably on the seat before Gran thoughtfully draped the blanket across their laps. Swinging himself up onto the front seat besides his grandpa, Wyatt picked up the reins and closing his eyes briefly, silently prayed for the patience and fortitude to endure the next few hours...

The chilly early evening air felt refreshingly cool on her flushed face as they rode along, the men talking quietly in front of them (presumably about horses or the ranch). While one part of Lucy's mind was politely listening to Mrs. Sherwin (and hopefully responding in all the right places), another was savoring the clearly stunned look on her grandson's face when she came downstairs in her new party dress. While it was true she had little experience with men in general, her feminine intuition reassured Lucy that, judging by the man's reaction, the gown was every bit as flattering as she hoped. Standing in front of the oval mirror hanging above the wash stand, she'd stood on her tiptoes and turned from side to side trying to see as much of her appearance as possible. Never before had she missed the lovely antique full-length mirror from her childhood bedroom so fervently.

It had been an impossibly long week, with Lucy doing her best to focus on her teaching duties, one interminable day after another. After supper each evening, she made a point of visiting Maisie in the barn, taking the sweet-tempered mare a small treat before retreating to her room to work on lesson plans. On two occasions this past week, Lucy joined the family in the front room to continue reading Last of the Mohicans, her usual composure severely tested by the weight of Wyatt's intense dark blue gaze as she read aloud until it was time to retire.

Every night before climbing into bed, Lucy looked at the pink and white striped dress hanging in the closet, gently running her finger across the bodice as she tried to imagine how it would look on her. At last, Saturday morning arrived, and she began to count the hours until it was time to get ready. Lucy couldn't remember feeling this excited about a social event since the night of her coming out party on New Year's Eve back in '73...one of the last truly innocent days of her childhood, she mused wistfully.

On that occasion, secure in the warm, enduring love of her dear father, the world had been bright and shiny and full of possibilities for a 17-year-old on the cusp of womanhood, with nothing more pressing to worry about in life than making sure her slippers and hair ribbons matched the color of her ball gown. Regrettably, that carefree young lady had grown up in a tremendous hurry when faced not long afterwards with the reality of just how harsh and unpredictable the world could be sometimes. But life went on, and Lucy had made the best of things, with no regrets for any of the choices that led her to the new and exciting life she was living now.

One helpful distraction that made the day go faster was when Mrs. Sherwin invited Lucy to accompany her into town after lunch to meet Pastor and Mrs. Spencer at the school house to decorate and set up for the social. With Wyatt's permission, Jonah was called upon to not only drive the ladies but also help the pastor move some of the heavier furnishings around to make room for dancing.

When they arrived, the pastor's wife introduced her niece, Miss Spencer, who was spending the winter with them. Lucy couldn't help but like the friendly younger woman, who insisted right away that Lucy call her Julie...and tended to chatter non stop. That she didn't mind, since she imagined the poor girl was probably lonely, what with the scarcity of young, unmarried females in Brady.

No, it was the tiny voice in the back of her head wondering if a certain blue-eyed cowboy was acquainted with the pastor's very pretty-albeit very young-blonde niece that gave Lucy pause (for possibly a minute or two). Stop it this instant, Lucy Preston, you have no hold on Wyatt Logan...and jealousy is a petty waste of time, she told herself firmly before turning her attention to the tasks at hand. Even with all the willing hands, it was a busy afternoon.

Benches were placed in long rows alongside each wall for those choosing not to dance. One corner near the back of the room was set aside for the refreshments table, and the opposite corner for the musicians to set up. The very center of the room would serve as the dance floor. Since there were no fresh flowers to be had in the middle of winter, soft buntings made of colorful materials were twisted and hung around the room and over the doorway by the women as decorations. Lighting would be provided by at least a dozen brass lanterns borrowed from the general store that were set on window sills and other out of the way places. Lucy couldn't wait until to see the room all lit up after dark. Because they lived just down the street, the pastor volunteered to go in and light the lanterns around sundown.

It was just about time for supper when they returned to the ranch. All during the meal, a distracted Lucy had merely picked at her food while trying to concentrate on the conversation around her (and not stare at Wyatt across the table like a silly school girl every time he spoke and wondering if he would ask her to dance this evening). Finally, the meal was finished, and she politely excused herself, lifting her skirts after leaving the dining room and practically running up the stairs. Because of the dance, Lucy's usual Sunday evening tub bath was taken last night, and so she required only a brief washing to freshen up after stripping down to her bloomers and chemise. Patting herself dry with the thick towel beside the steaming wash basin, she took her clean hair down and shook it out before bending over at the waist and brushing the dark, thick locks thoroughly.

Deftly coiling her hair into a neat knot at the back of her neck, Lucy gazed into the mirror and carefully pulled a few wavy strands loose to curl becomingly around her face. Satisfied with the results, she began to get dressed, starting with a clean, lace-trimmed chemise and fresh pair of bloomers. Sitting on the side of the bed, she deftly rolled a pair of pale pink silk stockings up her legs and slid her feet into the flat, dark pink slippers that matched her dress. Next Lucy tightly laced up the ivory-colored satin corset she usually wore on Sunday before donning two crisp white petticoats. All that remained was putting on her beautiful dress. Happily pulling the voluminous gown from the hanger, she gingerly lowered it over her head to avoid tangling her hair.

Once the garment settled into place and the buttons at the back done up, Lucy carefully tied the wide dark pink sash around her waist in a soft bow, letting the ends trail down the back of her skirt. Snapping open her father's pocket watch, she noted it was nearly 6:00 o'clock–which was when Mrs. Sherwin told her after supper they had to leave.

From the top drawer of the dresser, she retrieved the small black velvet pouch that held her jewelry. Stepping in front of the mirror once more, Lucy hurriedly fastened the pearl earrings Papa gifted her with when she turned 18 before draping the delicate string of pearls belonging to her late mother around her neck. Finally, after dabbing a tiny bit of violet scent behind her ears and the inside of each wrist, she gently bit her lips and pinched the apples of her cheeks to give them some color–not truly necessary since Lucy's face was already flushed rosy from her excitement and the exertion of getting dressed.

Her toilette complete, she gazed at her reflection critically, but could find no fault with her appearance. While Lucy's mind knew that logically, there would most likely be quite a few perfectly nice gentlemen attending the social this evening, in her heart, there was really only one that mattered...

At the top of the staircase, Lucy could hear the muted voices of the others near the front door, probably waiting on her. She shivered with anticipation. Willing her racing heart to slow down, she inhaled as deeply as the corset would allow and slowly started down the steps...

Preoccupied as she was, the ride into town felt much shorter than usual, and it seemed no time at all until Wyatt was pulling the carriage to a stop not too far from the schoolhouse. While Mr. Sherwin jumped down to assist his wife, Lucy waited patiently for their grandson's help. As usual, she found herself trembling a little when his large, calloused hands wrapped around her waist and effortlessly lifted her from the seat. Maybe it was shallow of her, but she found Wyatt's physical strength very attractive–it made her feel so dainty and feminine.

Fully expecting him to instantly step away like he usually did once she was securely on the ground, Lucy was taken aback when Wyatt remained standing directly in front of her. In the flickering light from the torches placed on either side of the schoolhouse doors, his eyes looked impossibly blue as he solemnly gazed down at her without speaking.

"Is something wrong, Wyatt?" she whispered with a faint frown. He stood near enough to her that Lucy could smell the woodsy, faintly musky scent she liked and had come to recognize early in their acquaintance as his alone. In the distance, she heard the faint sound of other carriages approaching, but in this rather intimate moment, all her attention was focused on the quiet man in front of her, so handsome, all dressed up in his Sunday best. Getting caught up in her feelings, Lucy unconsciously leaned even closer.

Her cheeks warmed in pleasure at his eventual response. "No...no, nothing wrong, just...uh, I wanted to say you look very nice," Wyatt told her with a shy smile before abruptly taking a big step back and clearing his throat roughly. And just like that, the magical spell was broken. "Guess we better get inside to see if Gran and the pastor's wife need any help. They probably put Gramps to work right away, poor fellow." Though she was naturally bit dismayed when he pulled away and changed the subject so easily, Wyatt's obvious enjoyment at his grandpa's expense was a bit amusing to see.

While disappointed, thankfully, Lucy remembered her manners and murmured agreeably, "Of course," biting back a sigh, although she enjoyed the comforting feel of his hand between her shoulder blades as he escorted her toward the double doors. They stopped in the cloakroom first, Lucy closing her eyes as Wyatt's breath drifted across the back of her exposed neck when he politely helped remove her coat.

Putting his warm hand under her bare elbow, Wyatt guided her just inside the open doorway of the rapidly-filling large room that served as a church on Sundays and a school during the week. While not yet 7:00 o'clock, it seemed to be quite crowded already. People were helping themselves to punch and coffee, and the refreshment table was full to bursting, with Mrs. Sherwin and the pastor's wife busily trying to find a place for all the cakes and pies and plates of cookies being brought in.

Lucy noticed some of her students laughing and chasing each other around the room, and the sound of the musicians in the far corner warming up their instruments added to the general confusion and noisiness. "Ready for your first Brady social, Miss Preston?" Wyatt leaned in and murmured, and turning to smile at him, she nodded eagerly. Yes, it was as different from her coming out ball in San Francisco as could be...and yet, she was quite hopeful this evening would be every bit as wonderful as that one...

A/N #2: I can hear some of you right now going, "C'mon, Gracie, a cliffhanger, really?" Sorry. I know readers have been waiting eagerly for the dance, but I really wanted to do it up right and thought the social should have its own chapter–especially since Lucy and Wyatt apparently have VERY different expectations about how the evening will go. Quick style note: I realize after doing some research that Lucy's party gown as I've described it is probably a bit old fashioned and not exactly the style of the day (circa 1881), but I wanted something rather princess-like for her. Plus, I really don't think women living in the middle of the frontier would bother themselves with wearing bustles, lol.

And finally, DANG...apparently I'm in the middle of some kind of writing spree right now. This is my second "Yellow Rose of Texas" update in the past three weeks, and in between those, I finished my AU fic "First Steps" plus wrote a brand new story called "A Different Breed of Man" (feel free to check it out if you haven't yet). Not sure where all this amazing inspiration is coming from, but lately there's just not enough hours in the day for writing–not that I'm complaining ;) My thanks as always to those readers who still like to read Timeless fanfiction. Your favorites, follows and reviews are greatly appreciated :))