“This is where me and Jimmy live with Uncle Jess. We lived with Mama...before.”
Breath left Sarah’s lungs with a sigh of profound envy as she gazed at the cozy little house. White with green shutters and a sturdy roof, a neat picket fence bordered with shrubs and bushes, twin maples in the yard. Gray smoke billowed from the chimney, blending with the gloomy afternoon sky.
Sarah shuddered at the thought of the leaky, drafty cottage a short distance down the road near the school—her house. She told herself for the hundredth time since arriving in Walker that she should be happy with the house the school board provided. It was a place to live. And, it was a very long way from Missouri.
Maggie took her hand once more. “We always go in through the back. Mama said to keep the front clean for company.”
Sarah followed the child through the front gate and around to the rear of the house. A clothesline stretched across one corner of the yard and several weatherfaded outbuildings stood a short distance from the house.
“That’s my Uncle Jess.” Maggie bounced on her toes and pointed.
At the three-sided woodshed a man draped in a poncho slammed his axe into a log, splitting it cleanly in two. He stopped suddenly and spun around, his face shadowed by a black Stetson and a stubble of whiskers. Even from across the yard, Sarah felt the heat of his gaze upon her. She backed up a step.
“Hi, Uncle Jess.” Maggie skipped across the yard to him.
Jess knelt and gave her a one-armed embrace. “Did you do all right at school today?”
She nodded, then pointed back at Sarah. “This is—”
“Go on in the house, Maggie.” Stern, but not angry, he stood and gestured toward the back porch with the axe clenched in his fist. Maggie looked back at Sarah and waved before disappearing into the house.
For an instant, Sarah wanted to call the child back as she stood alone, facing Jess Logan. She’d heard the talk about him. Generally, she disregarded other people’s opinions in favor of making up her own mind. Now, she questioned the wisdom of her decision.
He took a step toward her, the shroud of the poncho widening his big shoulders and increasing his height. Sarah gulped.
“What do you want, lady?”
Sarah straightened her shoulders. “Mr. Logan, I’m—”
“I don’t care what your name is. What do you want?”
Not a shred of tolerance warmed his tone. She expected townspeople here to be different from the folks in Missouri, but she hadn’t expected a Jess Logan so soon after her arrival. “I want to talk to you about Maggie. She—”
“Goddamn it!” Jess slammed the axe into the chopping block. “How many more of you nosy heifers is the church going to send over here?”
Her eyes widened. “Pardon me?”
“Look, lady, don’t stand there pretending you don’t know what I mean. I’ve been here less than a week, and every goddamn time I turn around one of you good-intentioned Christian busybodies is poking your nose in around here. I’m telling you for the last damn time—”
“Uncle Jess! Uncle Jess!” Maggie pushed open the back door. “Something’s on fire again!”
He spat a mouthful of curses and raced across the yard. Not bothering with the steps, he leaped onto the porch and pulled Maggie from the doorway. “Stay out here.”
Sarah hurried onto the porch. Surprisingly, the child looked unconcerned. She dashed into the house, Maggie on her heels.
Black smoke coiled from the cookstove as she stepped into the kitchen. Jess pulled the door of the oven open with the toe of his boot, grabbed a towel from the sideboard and fanned the billows of smoke pouring into the room. He reached into the oven and pulled out a pan full of charred remains. Coughing, he threw open the window above the sink.
“Dammit.” Jess kicked the oven door closed. “Goddamn it!”
Calmly, Maggie ventured closer and peered at their burned meal. “It’s all right, Uncle Jess.”
“Sonofa—” Seeing Maggie he clamped his mouth shut and held in the curses until his cheeks puffed out. He yanked off his Stetson then grabbed a handful of his poncho and ripped it over his head, wadded the garment in a knot and flung it onto the sideboard.
Sarah took a step forward, then stopped.
He had on an apron. A pink, bibbed apron with ruffles around the edges, red hearts embroidered on the pockets and green vines twining up to two bluebirds kissing on his chest.
A giggle escaped Sarah’s lips and she slapped her hand across her mouth.
Jess glared at her, then looked down at the apron. Color rose in his cheeks, pink, like the apron, but he ground his lips together and drew himself up to his greatest height.
Sarah cleared her throat. “Maybe I could help you prepare something else for supper?”
“I don’t need any help, lady.” He snarled the words at her like a rabid dog. “I’ve got everything handled.”
Sarah’s gaze scanned the room. Crusty dishes overran the sink. A makeshift clothesline sagged above the table. Flour sifted across the shelf and onto the floor. Pots and pans balanced precariously on the sideboard.
She nodded. “Yes, I can see that you do indeed have everything under control.”
“Are we going to have to eat eggs for supper again, Uncle Jess?” Maggie looked up at him with solemn eyes.
He blew out a big breath, visibly calming himself. “I’ll figure out something, honey.”
“It’s okay if we do.” Maggie looked at her brother peering around the table. “Isn’t it, Jimmy?”
The boy scurried behind Maggie and ducked his head.
Sarah’s heart ached at the sight of the two children and she even felt a pang of compassion for their uncle. The red flannel shirt beneath his apron outlined his muscular arms and wide shoulders. His brown hair grew a trifle too long, and that gave it an unruly wave across the back. Dark trousers and boots emphasized his height. He should have been riding the range, not cooking a roast for two small children.
Jess plowed his fingers through his hair and turned to Sarah again. “Look, lady, if you don’t mind, I’ve got things to do.”
His invitation to leave stirred her conscience again. “There’s a very nice restaurant on Main Street where you could eat tonight.”
He cringed and waved away her suggestion with both hands. “I don’t need your help and I don’t need your suggestions. I told you, I can handle anything. Anything.”
“Uncle Jess? Jimmy wet his pants.”
Jess groaned softly and his shoulders sagged.
Sarah tried again. “I could—”
“Just
