up with two. “Looks like he’s got himself a girlfriend.”
Seated on the ground beside him was a young girl about his age, with soft brown hair.
“That’s Megan Neville. Her father is the sheriff. Have you met him?”
Jess’s stomach tightened. “Yeah. We’ve met.”
“Megan and Luke are nearly inseparable.”
“Pretty sweet on each other, huh?”
Sarah shook her head. “I don’t think they’re more than good friends. They don’t display any of the usual signs, so far.”
“Signs?”
Sarah’s cheeks flushed. “Yes. Signs. Passing notes, holding hands when they think no one’s looking, making eyes at each other.”
“You pay attention to those things?”
“I make it a point to pay attention to everything about my students.”
Jess looked at her and some of her frostiness evaporated. He’d never in his life had a teacher pay any attention to him, until it was time to swing a hickory stick, of course.
“Megan’s lucky to still be in school at her age,” Sarah said. “Some girls are married by fifteen, with children of their own.”
“Were you?” Urgency clenched his gut. Suddenly, he had to know.
Well, there it was. The first question about her past. Sarah steeled her feelings. “No.” The word barely slipped through her tight, dry throat.
“No, what? No, not married young? Or no, no children?”
Sarah cleared her throat and forced herself to face him. “No, I did not marry young, and no, I do not have children. If you’ll excuse me, Mr. Logan, I have lessons to prepare.”
Jess watched her climb the steps to the schoolhouse, her back rigid, her shoulders square. That conversation had turned her deathly white. Somebody had said she was a widow. Was it the fact that she had no children that upset her? Maybe. Every woman wanted kids. But if she hadn’t married young, that meant she’d married more recently. Very recently, perhaps. And recently widowed, too. That would account for her reaction to his question.
She wasn’t wearing a mourning dress, so at least a year had passed. Time meant nothing, though, when it came to losing your loved ones. He’d learned that the hard way when he was only twelve years old. For an instant Jess was tempted to follow her inside the schoolhouse, but didn’t. The farther he kept from everybody in Walker, the better off he’d be. And that sure as hell included Sarah Wakefield.
“Thank you for inviting me, Reverend Sullivan.”
Sarah stepped into the warm parlor of the preacher’s home next door to the church, more grateful for the invitation to supper at the Sullivans’ than anyone could know. She smiled at Emory Sullivan as he took her cloak. How wonderful not to eat another meal alone, in that horrible house she called home.
Emory nodded, lamplight reflecting off his balding head. “We’re just so pleased to have you in our town, Sarah, just so pleased. Thank God for bringing you to us. Isn’t that so, Fiona?”
His wife clasped her hands together. “We were all worried silly about getting another teacher out here. We ran newspaper advertisements everywhere. Walker isn’t exactly St. Louis.”
Thank God for that, too, Sarah thought. “Good evening, Kirby, Nate.”
She’d met the Sullivans’ daughter and Nate Tompkins, the deputy sheriff, at church on Sunday and they’d seemed close, displaying some of the same signs she’d seen in her students, on occasion, so she wasn’t surprised to find Nate here for supper. Tall, broad-shouldered with a head full of black wavy hair, Nate looked comfortable, as if he’d spent many an evening in the Sullivans’ parlor. But the other man rising from the settee was a stranger, and a feeling of foreboding crept up her spine.
Fiona smiled brightly. “Sarah, I’d like to present Dwight Rutledge. Dwight is one of our most prominent businessmen. He owns Walker Feed and Grain on the other side of town.”
A tall, older man with a round chest and thinning hair, Dwight took her hand delicately in his. “Glad to make your acquaintance.”
A flash of light glinted in his eye. She’d seen that look before. She offered a silent prayer, hoping it would carry more weight emanating from the preacher’s home, but Dwight’s hand clung to hers a trifle longer than necessary.
“Shall we all go in for supper?” Dwight looped his arm through hers, then followed Fiona into the dining room. Sarah ended up seated at Dwight’s elbow; she was certain it was by design and not chance.
“How are things going at the school?” Kirby asked from across the table where she sat beside Nate. The dining room was cozy, like the rest of the house, the table set with nice dishes and a lace cloth. Apparently, the congregation in Walker was a generous one.
“Quite well, actually.” Sarah passed a bowl of potatoes on to Emory. “The students and I are adjusting to each other, getting to know one another. It’s all gone very well, actually.”
“At least you don’t have any of the Gibb boys in class.” Fiona shook her head. “A more disreputable family I’ve never known.”
“You’ve got Zack Gibb working for you, don’t you, Dwight?” Nate asked as he spooned peas onto his plate.
“I was reluctant to take him on. Bad blood in that family.” Dwight leaned closer to Sarah. “Inbreeders. Keep marrying their cousins, the lot of them.”
Sticky heat rolled off him; Sarah blushed.
Fiona gasped. “Mr. Rutledge, really.”
“It’s the truth. And the Lord knows it.” He glanced at Emory at the head of the table. “Zack’s not so bad. He’s the youngest, twenty years old now. Seems to have a good head on his shoulders, despite his upbringing. Of course, you never know.”
“Got word at the jail the other day that Zack’s brother, Gil, was in a gunfight down in Laramie. Heard Gil’s quite the shot. And not too particular about who he shoots at. Wouldn’t be surprised if I saw a Wanted poster come in on him.”
Sarah felt her stomach flip over. She’d known Walker would be different from St. Louis, but this different?
“There, there, now. Don’t be frightened.” Dwight covered her hand with his. “You’ve nothing to fear.”
Kirby smiled proudly at Nate. “We have very competent lawmen here in Walker.”
Dwight laughed suddenly. “Yeah, with Leyton Lawrence on the job.”
Everyone laughed but Sarah.
“The Legendary Lawman,” Dwight explained. “In the dime novels.”
Sarah nodded. “Oh, yes, I’ve heard of him.
