Chapter 15
A/N #1: Fair warning, readers, plenty of angsty soul searching here as Lucy and Wyatt struggle to deal with the aftereffects of his impulsive (one might say, reckless?) behavior. Quick shout out also to my talented fellow author, Once Upon A Whim, for her thoughtful review of the previous chapter :)
Late Saturday evening
After overcoming her wholly understandable shock long enough to scold the cowboy for not only unexpectedly barging into her room but also daring to kiss her a second time, she was surprised when he didn't argue. Wyatt merely gazed at Lucy thoughtfully for a moment before stepping closer and ever so gently stroking his finger down her flushed cheek. "Sleep well, Lucy," he murmured and quietly left her room. Sinking down on the side of bed before her legs gave out and staring pensively at the closed door, Lucy covered her mouth with a shaking hand. My goodness, what was going on here?
Closing her eyes, she shivered. It seemed as if every bit of propriety and decorum ingrained since childhood went completely out the window when this man–one she barely knew—touched her. Wyatt's demanding, yet sweet kisses stirred her innocent senses, leaving an inexperienced Lucy strangely bereft and longing for more when he eventually pulled away. But longing for more of what, exactly?
Raised an only child by her well-meaning, but naturally overly protective father without a mother, sister or any close female relatives, at the age of 25, she felt embarrassingly ignorant about a good many of the intimacies shared by a man and woman beyond basic male/female anatomy. This cultivated innocence had never bothered her before-even when she and Noah were courting–since practically all the young women of her acquaintance were brought up in much the same sheltered manner (and lamentably, went into marriage with very little knowledge or understanding of what awaited them, good or bad).
But now? After discovering what it felt like to be kissed and caressed by Wyatt Logan, Lucy was taken aback to realize that even in her most daring girlish dreams, she genuinely had no idea it was possible for a man's touch to make her feel this way. That she would breathlessly yearn to touch that man in return, to delight in learning what pleased him, and if she bravely dared...express her love for him. After all, as was the accepted custom in the monied, privileged world she was born into, Lucy Preston was taught during her time at the most exclusive finishing school in San Francisco that experiencing an emotion like desire for her future husband was simply considered unnecessary for a successful marriage.
Apparently, other things were of much greater importance—such as old money and bloodlines, a lady possessing a pleasant, biddable nature, and raising a family together. It seemed almost an afterthought that if a wife was particularly fortunate, she and her husband might share a mutual respect for each other. Lucy herself had even heard whispers that strong emotions like lust were deemed 'less than refined' by some of the haughtiest society matrons (causing her to secretly wonder how happy those marriages were). Her soul cringed at being trapped in such a loveless relationship for a lifetime, the feeling guiding her decision to leave California behind and journey to Texas in pursuit of a new life, a different life.
Further, it was widely acknowledged among her peers that if a well-bred young lady was lucky enough to make the rare society "love" match, she was still expected to willingly submit to all of her husband's wants and needs. Naturally, this included whatever mysterious things happened between a couple in the privacy of their marital bed–even if the experience turned out to be regrettably less than enjoyable for the new bride. Not likely if the husband in question happened to be Wyatt Logan, she imagined with a shiver.
Heaven help her, but just thinking about his large, work-roughened hands on her bare body had the power to make Lucy tremble and blush crimson all over. Still, despite enjoying the cowboy's second kiss every bit as much as the first one (maybe more if she was being truly honest), Lucy couldn't help feeling torn between her dazed senses and what her wary instincts were telling her.
While certainly the man being in her room with the door closed was itself highly improper, she also couldn't shake the uneasy suspicion that despite his heated denial earlier, Wyatt's motivation for kissing her the second time was possibly less than clear to him. It was one thing if he was attracted to Lucy (something she'd doubtless welcome once they knew each other better), yet another altogether if his misplaced jealousy over Jed Coleman's unforeseen marriage proposal was what drove him to cross the line of propriety with her. That type of possessive, "dog in the manger" attitude was unfair-and struck Lucy as insulting. She'd much rather be wanted for herself than because another man wanted her.
However, she reflected, in his favor was that besides being perfectly courteous and respectful towards her until this evening, the startling change in Wyatt's manner hadn't actually frightened Lucy. Quite the opposite, in fact. Being held in the strong arms of a man she was already very much attracted to made her feel safe. Taking into account his background, it wasn't difficult to imagine a former lawman such as Wyatt had probably witnessed some terrible things during his stint with the Texas Rangers...things that might harden or corrupt a weaker man's soul. But having seen first hand the close, affectionate relationship he had with the Sherwins, plus, his unfailingly kind and gentle treatment of the ranch horses, Lucy was reassured he possessed a good heart, one capable of love, as well as an innate sense of right and wrong.
No, she wasn't afraid of Wyatt, but maybe a bit apprehensive about the way his touch stirred her emotions as well as her body-and what that might mean for them in the coming days. What did he want from her? Despite what her foolish heart might yearn for, it would be exceedingly naive of Lucy to assume a couple of impulsive kisses meant a man like Wyatt Logan had any kind of serious intentions here–especially if that man was still grieving over his late wife (as she suspected he was). Letting herself care deeply for someone who wasn't emotionally ready for another woman could very well lead to heartbreak.
Lucy sighed unhappily. What should she do? Another matter of concern was if Wyatt's behavior continued in this inappropriate manner, it was unwise for the two of them to live in the same house–even with the near-constant presence of his grandparents. (She highly doubted the respectable couple was aware their unmarried grandson had visited their unmarried guest in her room–let alone kissed her.)
Actually, his uninvited presence in her room struck Lucy as rather ironic considering Wyatt himself had recognized the danger to her reputation if they'd been discovered embracing outside the schoolhouse. Shotgun weddings, indeed, Lucy frowned petulantly, pressing her fingers to a spot between her eyes that was beginning to throb insistently. Enough worrying for tonight, she resolved with a tired yawn.
Loosely braiding her hair before climbing under the warm covers, Lucy extinguished the lamp and stared up at the ceiling for a long time, unable to drift off in spite of her growing weariness. Not helping was the arrival of a fierce storm just past midnight, the low, angry rumbles of thunder rattling the window glass and bright flashes of lightning illuminating the shadowy corners of her room. At last, she fell into a restless slumber just before dawn...only to dream of blue eyes and kisses and dancing in the moonlight...
Although he'd gone to bed much later than usual, Wyatt woke Sunday morning the same time he always did, around daybreak. Scrubbing his hands over his face, he grimaced at the rough stubble, a reminder he needed to shave for the second time in less than twelve hours. Small price to pay, though, considering what a memorable evening it had turned out to be. After leaving Lucy's room, Wyatt had cautiously tiptoed down the hall past his grandparents' bedroom door to his own room, smirking at a distant memory of doing the same thing numerous times when he was courting Jess and out past the older couple's bedtime. Carefully hanging up his clothes to put back on in the morning, Wyatt slid under the thick quilt and exhaled tiredly.
Rolling on his side, he tucked his arm under the pillow and hoping for a couple solid hours of sleep, closed his eyes–only to instantly recall how pretty Lucy looked when blessing him out for busting in on her. Wyatt smiled faintly. He actually didn't mind a bit of temper in a woman now and again-kept things interesting. Sure had enjoyed kissing those soft, tempting lips of hers a second time, too. Still...probably best not to do that again anytime soon, he decided regretfully.
Lucy Preston was a refined lady from a good family who should always be treated respectfully, and his conduct earlier–while naturally not meant to scare her or make her feel uncomfortable in any way–had most likely missed that mark by a country mile. Yeah, it'd probably be a good idea to apologize in the morning, Wyatt realized with a twinge of remorse. It weighed on his conscience some, too, that thinking back on it, he and his wife courted for near a whole month before he felt bold enough to kiss her for the first time. So what was different about this woman that made him lose his damn mind so easily?
Truthfully, his rash behavior (and apparent lack of self control when it came to Lucy) did bother Wyatt, making him all the more determined to take things much slower with her going forward–especially in light of him giving into his attraction and kissing her. That might sound a tad overly cautious, but his impulses so far where Lucy Preston was concerned told a different story. As a guest of his grandparents for the time being, Wyatt saw her several times daily as it was, like when they shared meals. He also found himself looking forward to the evenings when Lucy would sit with the family after supper and read aloud for a while before going to her room for the night.
So what might be a logical next step with her, then? he wondered. What if he invited Lucy to take a walk with him after Sunday dinner, maybe show her around the ranch, so they could get to know each other better without his openly interested Gran hanging on every word they exchanged? Yeah, that sounded like a smart place to start. Wyatt conveniently ignored the little voice in his head warning there was a good chance she might misunderstand his intentions. No matter. As far as he was concerned, a man and woman occasionally spending time together was not even close to courting. Most decent men (which, he could grudgingly admit, would likely include Jed Coleman) understood courting was a serious business-with the end result usually being a wedding ceremony and eventually, God willing, children. Children...
Wyatt sighed wistfully. As always, the vague possibility of having another child or two some day filled his heart with sadness over the unimaginable loss of his baby boy and the last time he'd seen him alive. Sweet-natured little Mattie-who'd inherited his Daddy's blue eyes and dimples and wisps of light-colored hair from his Mama. At the age of six months, his son, who'd recently learned to sit up by himself, seldom cried and seemed to be happy all the time. Such a good baby. Inhaling painfully at the sharp, familiar pang of grief, Wyatt deliberately forced his mind back to Lucy.
It occurred to him that while he was admittedly physically attracted to the feisty, appealing brunette, the trouble with considering any kind of future with her (if Lucy was interested and willing, that is) was that part of his heart still mourned his wife...and maybe always would. Wyatt sure as hell had never been one for dwelling on his emotions...but if pressed about it, honestly didn't feel like he was ready yet to love (or at least care deeply for) another woman after his loss.
To his way of thinking, then, it wouldn't be fair to give Lucy any false hope when she rightfully deserved to be loved fully for herself by a man who possessed a heart that wasn't scarred by sorrow like his. As it was, Wyatt rather doubted he was the man she needed (or even wanted) right now–or sadly, maybe ever. And while not proud of himself for these feelings, unfortunately for the teacher, this was not information he was brave (or foolish) enough to come right out and tell her. Plus there was always the possibility she would be embarrassed if Wyatt brought the subject up in the first place.
No, he reasoned, probably best for both of them if they kept to casual, friendly stuff like sharing walks or eventually riding together–with no distractions like kissing involved. That just might work. Satisfied with what he considered to be a sensible plan, Wyatt closed his eyes once more and fell into a dreamless sleep.
A sharp rap on the door was all the warning he got when Martha suddenly popped in with a fresh pail of steaming water and a clean towel draped over her shoulder as she did every morning. Yawning and stretching lazily before swinging his bare legs over the side of the bed, Wyatt loosely gathered the covers over his lap and watched in appreciation while the housekeeper carefully filled the basin for him.
"You know, one of these days, it's possible you might be sorry for walking into my room unannounced," he observed idly, amused when she wisely ignored his impertinent remark and muttered something about knowing certain young men with smart mouths since they were barely out of diapers. Wyatt laughed. "Thank you, Miss Martha, for the hot water...you are a fine woman," he said sincerely, delighted when the older woman blushed and waved away his compliment before hurrying out of the room.
Around twenty minutes later, Wyatt was washed, shaved and dressed and heading out to the barn to get the carriage ready before breakfast. Thinking about the task, one side of his mouth curled in amusement at the memory of Lucy doing her level best to ignore him all the way home after the dance. He wondered if there was a chance in hell she'd be willing to sit up front beside him again today. Wyatt supposed anything was possible...unless she was still riled up at him for stealing those kisses. Yeah, for a little slip of a female, he'd found out pretty damn quick last night the woman had a good-sized temper. Privately, he had to admit that in the short time he'd known her, being around Lucy Preston was rarely boring.
Whistling cheerfully as he made his way across the yard, Wyatt stopped just outside the barn to appreciate the first pinkish streaks of sunrise lightening the sky as they often did after a storm like the one that came through a few hours ago. Looked like it was gonna be a real nice day, he thought in satisfaction, taking a cleansing breath of the fresh, rain-washed air. Inside the barn, as usual for this early in the day, the air was filled with the busy sounds of men and horses. He crouched down to pet Spot, who usually slept on a couple old quilts just inside the double doors at night. Nodding here and there at the ranch hands, Wyatt found himself enthusiastically greeted by Commander and Caesar and a few of the other horses.
While Jonah and Charlie and the rest diligently went from stall to stall feeding and watering the stock before starting on the daily grooming, Wyatt took a few extra minutes to visit with the two stallions and feed them carrots he swiped from the kitchen when Martha wasn't looking. He could tell Caesar and Commander were somewhat restless from not being ridden yesterday and figured they likely needed a good, hard gallop sometime before the day was over. Maybe he'd ask Gramps to ride along with him later on since he was hoping Lucy would agree to go walking after they'd finished Sunday dinner.
It really was a shame she wasn't ready just yet to get back on a horse after her scary experience as a child. Wyatt had fond memories of the times he and Jess spent riding together during their marriage-especially before their son was born-whenever he was on leave from the Rangers, something they both enjoyed. He frowned, putting a hasty stop to that train of thought. Hang on a minute, Logan, that wasn't fair to Lucy.
Once again, Wyatt had to remind himself it wasn't right to make comparisons between the two-that the teacher and his late wife were completely different women. Sure was surprising, though, how something in him couldn't help but be drawn to both of them. The hands finished up the morning chores and were on their way back to the bunkhouse for breakfast by the time Wyatt got around to hitching one of the chestnut bays to the carriage, unknowingly smiling and humming under his breath the tune he and Lucy 'danced' to last night in the moonlight.
"All done for now, boss." Jonah told him, pausing to pat the bay's long neck fondly. "Gotta say, from the big smile on your face, looks like you're in a good mood this morning, even late as it was when y'all got home. Must've had yourself a fine time at the dance. Me? I stayed here and lost damn near a day's wages at cards." He shrugged when Wyatt winced sympathetically. "Aww, it's okay...a couple of the boys ain't all that great at poker, and I'll probably win it back next time we play. Well, I gotta hit the chow line before it's all gone. You know how those fellas work up an appetite. See you around."
Bemused, Wyatt stared after the other man, unaware he'd even been smiling (at least enough for Jonah to notice). Shaking his head, he led the horse and carriage across the yard and tied them to the hitching post out front of the house. He stopped in the kitchen long enough to wash up and sneak a piece of bacon from the covered platter waiting on the stove top while Martha dished up the eggs. Wyatt smirked when the housekeeper shook the heavy wooden spoon at him and threatened to use it on his behind. Escaping into the dining room, he found the comforting sight of his grandpa sitting at the table reading through his Bible as he had countless Sunday mornings since Wyatt came to live at the ranch as a small boy.
"Morning, Gramps. Where's Gran and Lucy?" he asked curiously, sitting down and placing the cloth napkin beside his plate across his lap before pouring himself a cup of coffee. Wyatt pulled out his pocket watch and quickly checked the time. Seemed odd the two women were still upstairs, seeing as it was past 7:00 already and Betsy Sherwin was very particular about always being on time (if not early) for church.
Without looking up from the scripture he was silently reading, James replied, "Betsy came downstairs when I did, but after some time passed and there was still no sign of Lucy, she got concerned and went up to check on her." He closed the Bible and taking off his reading glasses, placed them on the table as Martha bustled through the door with several dishes of delicious-smelling food. They'd just started serving themselves when Gran finally came in. Instead of joining them at the table, though, she declared with a slight frown that 'poor Lucy wasn't feeling well at the moment' and would be staying home from church this morning, before heading into the kitchen murmuring something about tea and toast. The men exchanged puzzled glances as the door swung shut behind her.
"That's too bad," Wyatt remarked without thinking, "She seemed fine enough when I left her room last night..." Oh, dear God. He froze in dismay when of course his perceptive grandpa immediately stopped what he was doing and stared at him with wide eyes. Holy hell, what had he just done? The silence in the room was noticeable as a stunned Wyatt tried not to panic (and possibly incriminate himself further). Dammit. His previously cheerful mood disappeared just like that when to his dismay, he suddenly felt more like a misbehaving boy instead of a grown man who'd been married and fathered a child.
"What do you mean, 'when you left her room'? What possible reason would you have for being in Lucy's room last night, Wy? Can I presume from the guilty look on your face, the two of you were alone for at least a minute or two?" James asked calmly, slowly setting the heavy serving platter down and watching Wyatt intently. Despite the seemingly casual question, he couldn't help but mentally cringe at the seldom-heard disapproval plainly evident in his grandpa's deep voice.
"So you were...just exactly when did this happen? I assumed she came inside right after your Gran and I did or shortly thereafter while you were putting the carriage away. And you better talk fast before your grandmother comes in, or I guarantee, Sunday or no, there will be ten kinds of hell for both of us to pay." He couldn't contain an involuntary shudder at the terrifying thought of Betsy Sherwin's appalled reaction if she found out her grandson had been alone with their guest in her bedroom for even half a second...let alone put his unruly hands (and lips) on her...
Wyatt cursed the tell-tale heat flooding his face at the sweet memory of holding and kissing Lucy. "Uh, well, I...she...actually, as it turned out, Lucy didn't go inside right away because we were talking for a minute or two about a couple things before she did. But, see, once she did go in the house, something Lucy said got under my skin, and I guess I got all worked up and...the next thing I knew, after I was done in the barn, I was standing outside her bedroom door and then...and then..."
His voice trailed off as an exasperated Wyatt briefly closed his eyes and struggled for the words to explain himself without sounding like some kind of immature, randy jackass who stole the virtue of innocent young women on a regular basis. For God's sake, it hadn't been like that with Lucy at all. Glancing up, his heart sank, his defiance swiftly fading. If Gramps had been angry with Wyatt over his improper behavior, he could've dealt with that. But the disappointment reflected on the face of the man who raised him cut deep, and he knew only the plain truth would do-consequences be damned.
"Yes, sir, I was alone with Lucy in her bedroom last night for several minutes," he admitted reluctantly, squaring his shoulders and forcing himself to meet James' measured gaze. The fraught seconds ticked away as Wyatt waited anxiously for his grandpa's response. Fortunately, it wasn't long in coming.
"While it shouldn't be necessary to ask, if there's even a prayer of keeping my wife from dragging you and our house guest in front of Pastor Spencer after church services today to take the vows, the good Lord knows I have to." James seemed unmoved by his grandson's soft hiss of dismay. "Did anything improper happen between the two of you, Wyatt?" he asked soberly. Go on, take your lumps like a man, Logan.
Wyatt exhaled roughly, and answered in a low voice, "Yes, sir, I kissed Lucy." In enough trouble already, he thought it best not to add that the woman was in her nightgown at the time or maybe James Sherwin himself would be the one calling for a shotgun wedding. He intentionally avoided mentioning their first kiss outside during the dance. Wyatt simply couldn't bring himself to feel too awful guilty about that one-since he'd bet good money as a young man, James had likely kissed a nice-looking girl or two before settling down and marrying his dear Betsy. Without warning, the men heard her voice just on the other side of the kitchen door, and Wyatt prayed whatever Gramps had to say would be mercifully quick...
What felt like only minutes later, Lucy was abruptly awakened by a brisk knock on the door. Blinking drowsily, she rolled over and managed a husky, "Yes?" Expecting Martha bringing her some hot water for washing up as the housekeeper did every morning, instead it was Betsy Sherwin's voice she heard through the door. "Lucy, dear? It's close to 7:00 o'clock and Martha will have breakfast on the table in a few minutes. Are you nearly ready?"
Not even close, Mrs. Sherwin, Lucy thought, dismayed she'd slept in. Unfortunately, not only was she still fatigued from tossing and turning all night, the mere thought of spending the next several hours in close proximity with Wyatt Logan made her heart race anxiously. Logically, Lucy knew it would be impossible to avoid the man forever since she was a guest in his home, but at the moment, her usual composure felt dangerously vulnerable. Maybe a few hours of solitude would help repair the damage...
Aware of her hostess waiting patiently on the other side of the door, Lucy hesitated only a second longer before clearing her throat and answering, "Uh, come in, Mrs. Sherwin." As the door opened, she hurriedly sat up against the headboard and modestly pulled the sleep-rumpled covers over her lap. The older woman's eyes widened in surprise when she saw Lucy was still in bed.
"My goodness, Lucy, is something wrong? Are you feeling under the weather?" The wealth of maternal concern she heard in the other woman's voice made Lucy feel faintly guilty. No, not under the weather, Ma'am, just exhausted from fretting about your grandson most of the night, she thought wryly. Sitting on the side of the bed, Betsy leaned in to cup Lucy's cheek in her small hand. She closed her eyes briefly at the motherly touch. Raised with an abundance of love and attention from her doting father, Lucy very seldom felt the absence of her late mother while growing up–yet there was something inherently comforting about being shown a little kindness from another female when one was not feeling their best.
"Hmm...no fever, thankfully, though your complexion is dreadfully pale," the older woman pronounced, eyeing Lucy with concern when she admitted her head ached a bit. "Did you not sleep well last night, dear? Perhaps you're still over tired from all that dancing you did at the social," Mrs. Sherwin teased gently, a knowing twinkle in her blue eyes. "It's probably not an exaggeration to say the many single gentlemen in attendance were most appreciative to have young ladies as charming as you and Miss Spencer to partner with since there are normally few unmarried women around your age in Brady."
Blushing faintly at the flattering remark, Lucy shrugged and deflected, "Yes, there seemed to be no shortage of dance partners for the lively Miss Spencer, and I very much enjoyed the evening." Betsy smiled approvingly at her modest reply.
"Well, I'm certainly glad to hear it. It's been a real pleasure having you stay with us, Lucy, and naturally James and I are delighted by the way you've quickly become a respected member of the community. To be honest, watching you last night reminded me somewhat of when our daughter was a young girl and how much she loved pretty dresses and music and dancing," she confided pensively.
"Like you, Wyatt's mother was sweet and graceful and never lacked for partners at gatherings like the annual social. All that changed the year Libby turned 17 and met Wyatt's father. Our girl fell hard and fast for John Logan, a young farmer from the next county over. Wasn't long before they started courting-and before we knew it, Libby and her Johnny were setting a wedding date. They married shortly after she turned 18, and Wyatt was born barely a year later." Mrs. Sherwin fell silent, clearly lost in bittersweet memories of her only child. After a quiet moment, her misty gaze met Lucy's. "And then, three short years later, they were both gone, lost to cholera. I grieve because their time together on this earth was too brief, but it does give me comfort to know it was filled with so much love for each other and their child."
Deeply touched by the poignant story, Lucy hesitantly reached out to squeeze her hand. "I'm terribly sorry for your pain," she murmured. Betsy returned the squeeze and favored her with a melancholy smile.
"That's very kind of you to say. Time passes so quickly, I sometimes find it hard to believe it's been close to 25 years since Wyatt's parents were taken from us so suddenly. It's a heartbreak I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy...and why I thank God every day for our grandson. I think I mentioned on another occasion when we talked how the joy and pride we experienced raising Libby's son was immensely helpful-a blessed diversion from the relentless grief of those dark early days, if you will. And I've always felt the luckiest of women to have a fine man like James by my side," she said fondly.
"Now I better get downstairs before my wonderful, but usually ravenous husband and his equally hungry grandson devour everything in sight." The two women grinned companionably at each other. "It might be a good idea if you stay home from church services this morning, dear, and try to rest up before going back to school tomorrow just in case you are taking sick with something," she advised kindly. "I'll have Martha fetch you a nice cup of tea and maybe some toast to help with your headache."
The words burst impulsively from Lucy when Betsy stood to leave. "Please, Mrs. Sherwin, wait. If it's not too impolite a question, how did you know Mr. Sherwin was the right man for you? I ask because since my arrival here at the ranch and meeting you and your husband, I've noticed how content you are with each other. You see, my dear Papa never remarried after my mother died when I was a baby, and I've had very little personal experience around married couples–happy or not. If you don't mind, that is...I guess I was just wondering," she added haltingly, in case Mrs. Sherwin thought she was being rude.
She regarded Lucy curiously. "I don't mind at all, dear. You're always welcome to ask me anything you like. First, though, would your question about James have anything to do with Jed Coleman asking permission to court you? I must confess that after we retired to our room last night, my husband shared with me what happened at the dance. And since I happen to be a nosy old woman–and of course, it's absolutely none of my business-I have to know, did you agree to let the man come courting?" Amused by the expectant look on the other woman's face, Lucy couldn't help smiling at the forthright question.
"I'm afraid Mr. Coleman appeared to be disappointed when I politely declined his request," she said lightly, deliberately understating the rancher's unhappy reaction. No need to give her hosts (or their grandson) anything to worry about. Lucy was relieved when Betsy merely nodded in understanding.
"That sounds like a very wise decision, dear, considering you barely know the man," she observed. "Given that Jed Coleman tends to keep to himself most of the time, it's hard to know what prompted him to act so rashly. Still, there's no denying you are quite pretty and have lovely manners-something that would appeal to a great many men in search of a wife. Perhaps, too, he was encouraged by how nicely you get along with his son and daughter. I daresay it wasn't easy for a widower to be left with two young children after their poor mother passed away." Lucy easily understood her unspoken (but implied) meaning. In other words, Jed Coleman was probably looking for a woman to raise his children...
"As for your question, I was born and raised in San Antonio, and just shy of my 16th birthday that summer of 1831 when I laid eyes on James Sherwin for the first time," Betsy began, perching on the end of the bed once more. "We met at a church picnic my family and I were attending. Even though it's been going on fifty years now, I remember every detail of that hot June afternoon as if it was yesterday. Like most girls tend to, my little sister, Evelyn, who was 14 at the time, and I were eager for a chance to show off our brand-new summer church dresses. Hers was a delicate rose pink and mine the color of bluebonnets, my favorite wildflower. It was a large gathering and while I knew most of the folks there, I did notice a few unfamiliar faces. I was on the way back from fetching my father a glass of lemonade when I passed by a group of young men who appeared to be having themselves a fine time. Just as I drew near their table, one of them happened to look up and catch my eye."
Lucy smiled, imagining how pretty and dainty a young, dark-haired Betsy must've been in her new blue church dress.
"Lucy, it was a mercy I didn't stumble and spill Father's lemonade all over me because that young fellow was just about the handsomest man I'd ever seen," Mrs. Sherwin confessed, her cheeks pinking faintly. "My heavens...he had broad shoulders, thick, dark hair that wanted a trim, and the bluest eyes. Actually, Wyatt strongly favors his grandpa in looks-especially the dimple in his left cheek. We stared at each other for what felt like an hour but was probably only a half second when he gave me this slow, easy smile that suddenly made it hard for me to catch my breath, like I'd been running hard." Lucy chuckled in appreciation when Betsy paused and dramatically fanned her face with one hand.
"Luckily, Evie called out my name and I recovered enough to smile shyly in return and keep moving–even though I desperately wanted to look over my shoulder to see if he might be watching me walk away. I couldn't stop thinking about that handsome young man all week, wondering who he was and if I'd ever see him again. And then like a miracle, the following Sunday, not only was he there at church, but walked right up to my father after services, introduced himself as James Sherwin, and boldly asked permission to walk me home. Thank goodness my usually strict father allowed it, though I've often wondered why over the years. All I can say is there's a reason, Lucy, why some people refer to it as 'love at first sight' because I knew as sure as the sun sets in the west when we said goodbye at my front door that God willing, someday I'd marry this young man...and so I did."
Lucy's heart melted at the charming story. She settled back under the covers with a thoughtful frown after Mrs. Sherwin left. Maybe her almost immediate attraction to Wyatt Logan wasn't so crazy after all...
Clearing his throat, James put his hand on a tense Wyatt's arm and said in a gentle voice, "Easy there, son, I'm not mad. I know better than anyone how you grieved something fierce over losing Jess, and it doesn't take much imagination to recognize you probably been terribly lonesome at times. As one man to another, I understand better than you might think how tempting it was for you to cross the line of decorum with Miss Preston because she is indeed a fine woman–not only pretty as a picture, but smart and kind, too."
James sighed regretfully. "That being said, however, you were most certainly not raised to be the kind of selfish, arrogant man who would take advantage of a helpless female, and it pains me to learn you might've disrespected any young lady that way. I probably don't need to remind you that as a guest in my home, I consider her to be under my protection. If another man dared treat Lucy Preston in such a manner, we would take turns tearing him apart—and you know it." Chastened by both the reprimand he richly deserved and the starkly accurate observation, Wyatt kept silent.
"Now, I want your word, Wy, that you'll do your very best to control these wayward impulses when it comes to Lucy. She deserves no less than your full respect. I also think if you haven't done so yet, you probably owe her a sincere apology and a promise it won't happen again. On the other hand, as time passes, if you find you truly are interested in properly courting Lucy with the intent of making her your wife, not only will you have my whole-hearted blessing, it would also no doubt make your grandmother the happiest of women. But in the meantime, I suggest you keep your hands to yourself. Are we clear?" Wyatt nodded stiffly, his pride stinging from the scolding. Having said his piece and satisfied a valuable lesson had been learned also, Gramps smiled reassuringly at him and proceeded to finish filling his plate just as his wife came through the kitchen door and took her seat at the table.
Luckily for Wyatt's understandably non-existent appetite, Gran was too busy fretting over the possibility of being late for church to pay much attention to him. Though every instinct he possessed desperately wanted to run upstairs and see Lucy, and if nothing else, humbly beg her forgiveness, there simply wasn't time. Filled with remorse over his ungentlemanly conduct towards Lucy, he contributed almost nothing to his grandparents' conversation on the ride to town, instead brooding silently as he drove the carriage. Once they arrived, Wyatt tried hard to concentrate on the sermon during services, but James' words echoed over and over in his mind until he thought his damn head would explode from the tension.
Not helping was the startling realization that while Lucy had attended church with his family for only two Sundays, Wyatt somehow found himself missing the pretty sound of her singing voice and the soothing warmth of her slight frame against his side. This did little to improve his sour mood since he was almost certainly the reason she had stayed back at the ranch this morning. Feeling more unsociable by the second, once the preacher's long-winded final prayer was over, a grim-faced Wyatt impatiently brushed past his fellow parishioners and hurried outside without looking left or right to wait by the carriage for his grandparents, his troubled thoughts consumed with trying to figure out what he should do next-and all too aware it sure as hell wouldn't be taking a walk with Lucy after dinner...
"There you are, Captain Logan...my goodness, what's put you in such a pissy mood this fine Sunday?" a familiar voice mocked from behind him, rudely interrupting Wyatt's gloomy self examination. Perfect...exactly what he needed right now was to be tormented by Dave Baumgardner. "Rufus," the lawman asked solemnly, "Do you think the reason our friend here is wearing such a ferocious scowl has anything to do with the absence of a certain school teacher from church today?" Wyatt closed his eyes in resignation, fully expecting the blacksmith to eagerly join in the fun of poking at him like a chained up bear. He was pleasantly surprised when his friend did not–and in fact, leapt to Wyatt's defense.
"C'mon, leave him alone, Sheriff," Rufus chided, rolling his eyes at the other man, "For pity's sake, can't you see something is wrong and that Wy is genuinely upset? Don't know why you always gotta be stirring things up," he grumbled before kindly asking Wyatt where Lucy was and if she was okay.
Grateful and encouraged by his friend's concern, Wyatt took a deep breath and admitted Lucy had stayed home because she wasn't feeling well and then-for some dumb reason he instantly regretted-added it was probably all his fault because he'd stolen a kiss from her at the dance last night. For once, both of his friends appeared to be stunned speechless by his blunt, out of nowhere confession. (If Wyatt wasn't feeling so miserable, he might've been amused at the obvious shock he saw on their faces.)
Neither man responded until, true to his confident, rambunctious personality, Dave recovered first. "Well, I'll be damned. Hmm...they say it's always the quiet ones, you know," he observed gravely, shaking his head in pretend sadness. For some reason, instead of making him mad, that struck Wyatt as funny and he unwillingly chuckled, his tense shoulders relaxing some. Rufus snickered in appreciation at the silly comment as well, causing the Sheriff to grin proudly. "That's more like it, brother," he said, punching Wyatt affectionately on the arm. "Now tell your best friends all about what has you in such a foul state of mind on this glorious Lord's day."
Aware it would only be a few moments until his grandparents would be ready to go home, Wyatt hastily gave Rufus and Dave the bare details of what had happened between him and Lucy–deciding to omit the second kiss in her bedroom. To his surprise, perhaps because they were about the same age as he was and neither one married, the other men didn't appear to be all that shocked Wyatt had impulsively kissed Lucy.
"Hell, man, while I understand that Mr. Sherwin might be worried about appearances since you're both living under his roof at the moment, I do think most any normal man would be tempted to dally with a woman as sweet and pretty as the school teacher," Dave pointed out reasonably, making Wyatt feel somewhat better—though he couldn't help wincing at the word 'dally,' which naturally conjured up all sorts of wicked thoughts of what he'd like to do with the innocent Miss Preston. Thank you, Sheriff Baumgardner. Unbelievably, while his next words were certainly meant well, they sounded even worse...
"Yessir, ain't nothing wrong with a man wanting a little taste of heaven now and again with a lady, but only as long as she's willing. And knowing you to be the most honorable of men, I'm sure you would never force yourself on any woman." He shrugged unrepentantly when both his friends frowned at him.
"Really, Dave? You were making sense at first but then ran right over the cliff. Don't listen to him, Wy," Rufus advised in disgust. "Good lord, the man's not managed to find the female yet who'd put up with his bullshit. At least you been married and have some real experience being with a woman. Now, for what it's worth, I say take it nice and slow with Lucy and give yourself a chance to see how things turn out. Of course, sadly for you, that means no more kissing unless you actually decide to start courting her."
Not offended in the least by the blacksmith's opinion on his romantic experience (or lack thereof), Dave nodded solemnly and added, "He does make a fair point. Alright, now, I have one last thing to say, and then I'll leave you be. Something you might wanna seriously contemplate is that for a man who has very strongly insisted over and over again since the lovely Miss Preston arrived in Brady that he's not looking for another wife, you, my friend, are perilously close to being forced to marry her in order to keep from ruining her reputation. Yes, as Rufus said, I've not yet taken a bride, but still, it's probably not the best way to start any marriage—so I wish you luck with whatever you decide. Now, if you two gentlemen will excuse me, I promised the delightful Miss Spencer I'd walk her home."
Politely tipping his hat to Wyatt's grandparents as they approached, the sheriff confidently strode off, leaving the other two men staring after him in disbelief. "Has he always been like this?" Rufus asked, and merely shook his head when Wyatt answered dryly, 'for as long as I've known him,' before they grinned ruefully at each other.
Spirits lifted greatly after confiding in his friends, Wyatt made up his mind on the ride home to try and find a moment alone with Lucy the first chance he got to beg her forgiveness, maybe try to explain (if he could manage to find the right words), and ask if she would consider being his friend. And if that friendship led to stronger, romantic feelings between them, Wyatt would know in his heart (and gladly accept) it was truly meant to be...
While still somewhat fatigued from a lack of sleep, Lucy was wide awake now and couldn't bear the thought of lying in bed all morning while the family attended church services since she wasn't truly ill. Revived by the light breakfast Martha brought her, she made the bed before quickly washing up and slipping into one of her older woolen dresses. Briefly peeking in the mirror above the wash basin, Lucy decided not to put up her hair and left it in a loose braid since she usually washed it on Sunday evenings anyway.
Stopping in the kitchen first to politely thank the housekeeper for her thoughtfulness, she snagged a small apple for Maisie, and putting it into her coat pocket, made her way outside. Breathing deeply of the invigorating fresh air, Lucy thought for a minute before deciding to just walk around for a spell to clear her mind.
Accompanied by the Sherwins' friendly hound, Spot, she wandered here and there for maybe an hour or so, eventually–though not deliberately-ending up a little ways from the family cemetery. All was peaceful and quiet in this part of the ranch, save for the whistling sound of the late winter wind blowing across the low hills. Glancing around in appreciation, Lucy noticed a scattering of early spring daisies just starting to brave the cold.
"C'mon, Spot, let's go," she urged, impulsively gathering a modest bouquet before heading toward the far end of the cemetery. Lucy knelt beside the single grave of Wyatt's wife and son, and gently placed the flowers at the base of the hand-carved wooden cross. Resting back on her heels with Spot pressed against her skirts, she bowed her head and said a brief prayer for the souls of Jessica and Matthew Logan.
Opening her eyes, Lucy sighed pensively, her fingers absently stroking the soft fur behind the dog's ears. After what happened between them last night, she couldn't help but wonder about Wyatt's marriage and what kind of husband he was to his young wife during their short years together as man and wife. "Was he sweet and considerate and tender with you, Jessica?" she impulsively whispered aloud, confident there was no one around to hear her whimsical question but an old hound and the wind. Took very little effort for Lucy to imagine the Wyatt Logan she knew had been a loving, faithful husband and surely a proud father. She blinked at the tears that threatened as compassion filled her heart for his devastating loss.
"Lucy?" At the unexpected sound of her name called out in a deep, masculine voice, she jerked around to see Wyatt gazing at her intently. Oh, no, how long had he been standing there? Despite the cool breeze, Lucy blushed hotly. Please, God, I hope he didn't hear me, she prayed desperately, staring up at him with wide eyes. They watched each other in awkward silence for a few seconds before Lucy shook her head and struggled to her feet, with Wyatt instinctively moving closer to clasp her elbow. Neither one spoke after she mumbled her thanks and drawing away from him, pulled her coat more tightly around herself against the chilly wind. Heavens, there had to at least a dozen other places she'd rather be right now, she thought frantically...
Wasn't hard for Wyatt to guess by the stiff way the slender brunette held herself and had trouble meeting his eyes that she might be worried or maybe embarrassed he'd found her in the cemetery beside Jess and Mattie's grave. (Like he even cared about that.) Unfortunately, it was also likely she was still upset with him. Desperate to apologize and hopefully make things right between them, Wyatt stepped in front of her, the words eagerly rushing from his lips.
"I'm sorry, Lucy, so damn sorry, for my totally unacceptable behavior," he began hoarsely. "Not only do we barely know each other, but you are an honored guest in my grandparents' home. I had no right whatsoever to take advantage of your inexperience, to touch you and kiss you without your consent, and I absolutely should never have been alone in your room last night and kissed you a second time. Although I sure as hell don't deserve it, I'm humbly asking for your forgiveness, and a chance to start over, to maybe become friends, if you'll allow it. Can you find it in your heart to do that?" His heart racing, Wyatt searched her pale, still face anxiously, trying to guess what she was thinking.
Her beautiful amber brown eyes went wide at his hurried, stumbling apology before Lucy absently pushed her long dark braid over her shoulder and gazed at him steadily for a distressingly long moment. Finally, when Wyatt's nerves were dangerously near the breaking point, she bit her soft pink lower lip uncertainly and nodded hesitantly. And then, hallelujah, all was right in Wyatt Logan's world once more because it looked like Lucy Preston was agreeing to forgive him...and he couldn't be more thankful. Preoccupied with what to say next (if anything) to put the matter to rest once and for all between them and start fresh, he belatedly noticed the brisk February wind had picked up when Lucy suddenly shivered. Good lord, Logan, finish this up because the poor girl was probably freezing. Luckily for Wyatt, the answer he'd been fervently praying for miraculously jumped into his head.
A sense of blessed calm came over him. Holding out his hand, he said formally (and quite properly), "Good afternoon, Miss. My name is Wyatt Logan, and I help run this ranch for my grandparents. It's very nice to make your acquaintance, and I'd be pleased to escort you to the house if you're ready to go inside now." Wyatt practically held his breath for her response, watching her expectantly and hoping he hadn't sounded like a complete idiot, that she understood what he was trying to do here.
At any other time, the teacher's totally bewildered expression might've amused Wyatt, but he forced himself to remain completely still for another couple seconds. At last, his patience was rewarded when a sweet, tentative smile gradually bloomed on Lucy Preston's face as she slowly reached out to shake his hand...
A/N #2: Wow. This turned out to be the longest chapter of Yellow Rose I've written to date (just over 9,000 words), but I think it was necessary since Wyatt and Lucy had a LOT of confusing feels to work through. Fingers crossed they're both in a good place now and ready to (cautiously) move forward with their relationship :) Quick side note: this update is just a day short of the one-year anniversary of the first chapter I posted of this story on August 22, 2021. Can't believe we've been hanging around in 1881 for a whole year! Plenty more good stuff to come, though, for this wonderful couple I love writing for. One last thing...while the slowly dwindling number of people interested in Timeless fanfiction saddens me, I continue to greatly appreciate those readers who still enjoy reading about Lucy, Wyatt and the gang, as well as your favorites, follows and encouraging reviews. Thank you so much :))