West Winds of Wyoming (12 page)

Relief rippled through Brenna when Mr. Lloyd approached the side of the schoolhouse where the quilt hung. Wouldn’t be too much longer and this day would be over. She sat beside Mr. Hutton on some brown chairs, and was ashamed to say she’d not dredged up the courage to ask him about Maddie going to school. She hadn’t confessed about the math books, either.

“May I have your attention, please?” Mr. Lloyd called through cupped hands. When he motioned to Brenna expectantly, her insides frosted over. “Mrs. Lane? Would you like to say a word or two before we select the winner of this beautifully stitched sampler quilt?”

Did he expect her to make a speech? This was the first she’d heard of it. She smiled graciously, gathered her skirt and stood.
Oh my.
She wasn’t a practiced speaker. Her children were the largest group she’d ever addressed. Making her way toward Mr. Lloyd she spotted Penny with Maddie, Jane and Markus. The pride on their faces gave her courage. How could she let them down?
Please, oh Lord, put some words in my mouth.

She smiled, then swallowed once. “Th-thank you so much, Mr. Lloyd. On behalf . . . of this year’s . . . school council, as well as our new teacher, Mr. Hutton, I’d like to thank everyone . . . for coming out today to make the open house and fundraiser a success.” She took a deep breath and let the air out slowly, stunned she’d had something to say. Two whole sentences to be exact. Everyone watched her expectantly, maybe even a bit—approvingly. “There are so many people to thank; I really don’t know where to begin. Mrs. Brown and Mrs. Brinkley, for the beautiful new curtains for the school, Hannah and Thom Donovan for the side of beef and desserts for our meal today. Gabe Garrison and Jake for chopping and delivering the wood Mr. and Mrs. Logan donated from their ranch.”

She took another breath. “Mr. Frank Lloyd for his generous gift of two new blackboards and chalk, as well as the desks that were needed this year for new students.”

She paused again. She hadn’t made a list and was going off memory. “Oh, I don’t want to forget Albert and Winthrop Preston for their contribution of a second wood-burning stove so our children will be toasty when the temperatures start to drop. We wouldn’t want them to get frostbite.”

Laughter actually rippled through the crowd. She spotted Hannah in the audience, smiling. Happiness filled her.

She glanced around again, not wanting to leave anyone out. She noticed Mrs. Hollyhock in conversation with a woman she’d never seen before at the back of the crowd. She’d almost forgotten one of the most important people. “And especially to our dear Mrs. Hollyhock and her circle of lovely quilting fairies who spent hours creating the beautiful Logan Meadows quilt for today’s raffle. They alone raised twenty-three dollars and seventy-five cents. A good amount that will be used this coming year for books and supplies.” A round of applause went up and Brenna waved her arm behind her to direct the attention to the quilt.

“A final thanks to everyone who came to support the school and brought a dish to share for the potluck. Everything was delicious. I hope I didn’t forget to mention anyone. Please forgive me if I did.”

There. I can’t believe it. I’m finished and I didn’t stumble, sputter, or go blank.
Brenna hid her smile, unable to stay her temptation to sneak a peek at Mr. Hutton. Their eyes met. He gave an imperceptible nod, and then started to clap, and another round of applause went up. Penny’s face glowed brighter than the sun on a cloudless day.

“Now, for those of you who haven’t had the opportunity yet to meet Logan Meadows’s new teacher, who comes to us on the highest recommendation all the way from Pennsylvania, I’d like to introduce him and ask him to say a few words.” She held out her hand and their gaze met and held again. “Mr. Hutton.”

Mr. Hutton smiled and nodded as he came forward. “Thank you for your gracious introduction, Mrs. Lane.”

She felt the intensity of his eyes. She couldn’t decide if they were browner than they were green. Certainly, whichever, they made a flutter in her tummy akin to butterflies racing in the wind. She was relieved when he finally turned to the crowd.

“Thank you so much for the hearty welcome your town has shown me. I’m eager to teach your children. I hope to make a mark in their lives. If any of you have questions anytime throughout the school term, I encourage you to come and see me. The door is always open.”
Short and sweet.
He stepped away and glanced back at Brenna and Mr. Lloyd as a round of applause filled the air.

Frank Lloyd motioned for the pickle jar. He stuck his hand in and swished the papers around for several seconds, then shook the whole jar up and down. “Mrs. Lane, will you do the honor of selecting our winner?”

This was the best day of her life. “Of course.”

He held the glass container high enough that she wouldn’t be able to see which paper she selected. Stretching up, she reached inside and let her fingers walk around on the papers for a few seconds, smiling at the anticipation written on the children’s faces. She pulled out the winner and looked at the name.

“And the beautiful sampler quilt goes to our new man in town, Mr. Rose.”

Charlie stood behind Nell, watching the proceeding from the back of the crowd. He only had eyes for his little girl. The trip here must have been awful for Maddie. He cursed himself for putting her in that frightening position and grieved, as he knew she must have grieved in silence, the loss of Miss Baxter. He swallowed down a lump of regret, wondering if the trip had proved too much for his old friend, or if it had just been her time to go. Either way, he wished he could save Maddie the heartbreak he knew his child had suffered, and perhaps still did.

Beside the quilt, Brenna Lane laughed and held up the winning ticket. Miss Baxter, God rest her soul, hadn’t exaggerated when she said her niece was pretty. More than that, she was an angel. She’d taken in his little girl, protected her. There wasn’t enough money in the world to repay her for what her kindness to Maddie meant to him.

At his side, Nell gasped with excitement, and Charlie heard the tail end of his name. Guess he’d won. Nell was practically jumping up and down, reminding him of a surprised little girl. He couldn’t resist and chucked her under the chin. “And there you go. Who would have known?”

“Me, Charlie Rose.” Nell grinned. “I had a feeling you were going to win. Down in the pit of my stomach.”

Her face was alive—
really alive
—for the first time since he’d met her. Her smile went all the way up to her eyes. Astonished at her beauty, he dragged his gaze away. “That was just the underbaked potatoes in the salad,” he said in a low tone not to be overheard. He chuckled. “My stomach is also a mite queasy.”

She shushed him. “Go on, now. Get up there and claim your prize.”

Behind the twinkle in her eyes he saw something else. A hot lance of awareness jabbed his heart. He liked Nell a whole lot more than he should. Besides, Galante was out there somewhere, wanting blood for blood, and would stop at nothing to get it. Charlie’d do well to remember that when yearnings tried to distract him.

Brenna went up on tiptoe, scanning the crowd. “Mr. Rose? Are you out there somewhere?”

Nell shoved his shoulder. “Get going, Mr. Slowpoke, before they pick another name.”

Charlie threaded his way through the townspeople. Men watched with a pinch of caution—he didn’t blame them a bit—and the ladies with welcoming smiles. Almost there, he caught a glimpse of Maddie in the front row. How his heart broke every time he had to pretend she wasn’t his. She kneeled in the grass, her hands clasped in front of her. Her head was tipped just so, the way she used for seeing by listening intently. With a jolt of fear, he realized Brenna was quite close to where the children sat. What if Maddie recognized his voice?

“Right up here, Mr. Rose,” Brenna called. Mr. Lloyd walked over and handed the bulky armful of quilt to Charlie. “Congratulations. This is a nice welcome to our quiet little town.”

When Charlie eked out a high-pitched thank-you to disguise his voice, both Brenna and the banker blinked in astonishment. The boys and girls giggled. All except Maddie. Her smile faded and she took on an expression of deep concentration.

Flustered, he glanced back at Nell, in need of support, but she was frowning at him. The last thing he wanted to do was confuse his daughter, or cause her pain. He’d told her he’d come for her in a month—and the process had taken much longer. He needed to ease back into her life, not shatter it again. Above all, he needed to make sure they were safe first. Although not saying another word made him seem ungrateful, there was no help for it. Nothing mattered but Maddie.

Resolved, he tipped his hat and tried to wrangle a smile, although the way his mouth felt, the sight just might scare some people off. Instead of starting back toward Nell, he turned on his heel and made straight for his horse.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

W
ith the empty egg crock under her arm, Nell mounted up and reined around with no intention of trying to catch Charlie or find out what was eating at him. It was as if all the blood had drained from his face up there. He’d been speechless.

Thunderstruck with Brenna’s charm, more like.
Nell tried to shove away her hurt. But what about the expression on his face as he’d pushed his way through the townspeople, then made short work of getting to his horse and leaving? That had her stumped.

She rode up the street at a jog. Everyone was still back at the school, gathering their things to go home. As she crossed the bridge on Main Street, the two bison Win Preston owned at the livery watched her curiously through the sturdy boards of their corral. She passed the
WELCOME TO LOGAN MEADOWS
sign.

Once across, Nell clucked softly, sending Coyote into a lope. She let the sensation ease away her questions about Charlie and concentrated on the rocking-chair motion of her horse’s gait, one of the many things she loved about her mount. As a working horse, they didn’t come much better. As a friend, none more loyal. The road under his hoofs sped past. His breathing settled into a cadence that had the power to heal. This was where Nell belonged. Here was where she felt at home. Alone in the saddle where she could never be hurt again. Not by Charlie, not by the eerie stranger that still dogged the edges of her mind—and especially not by
her father
.

Shocked, she slid her horse to a halt. He danced around excitedly and pulled on the bit, not ready yet to stop. She brushed her hand over the silky, soft coat of his shoulder, then asked for a walk by sitting deep in the saddle and giving him his head.

Her father?
Where had the thought come from? She had no memories of any life prior to the one alone with her brother. No recollections of either of her parents. For as long as she could remember, Seth had been totally closemouthed about them. He’d changed the subject whenever she asked. She wondered why she should have that thought now.

Nell hooked her reins around the saddle horn. She reached back to her saddlebag, unbuckled the keep to draw out her holster and gun, and stuffed her empty crock inside. Buckling the leather gun belt around her waist, she stood in her stirrups, letting the Colt 45 settle into place on her thigh.

There.

That felt better.

One never knew what might jump out at you once beyond the security of town. But wild animals didn’t shake her calm; this unsettled feeling was different—due to something else . . .
or someone else
. Her confidence rattled, she glanced again over her shoulder at the trail she’d just ridden.
Yes. The stranger.
The one in her yard who’d turned her blood to ice. She reached down and touched the handle of her gun, determined to never let herself feel threatened like that again.