The Heart Of A Hero

“Mr. Logan, Maggie was quite upset that she had nothing to eat.”

“I know, I know.”

“It’s extremely important that she have continuity in her life. Especially now with all the changes that have taken place.”

“I know that, too.”

“She’s at a very vulnerable point that could—”

“Would it make you feel better if you just got out your ruler and busted my knuckles?”

Sarah stiffened. “As appealing as that sounds, Mr. Logan, I sincerely doubt it would be effective.”

“Is that right?”

“That’s exactly right.” Sarah softened her voice. “You needn’t take this personally. I’m only thinking of what’s best for Maggie.”

He hated it when other people were right. It seemed like a good time to change the subject.

Jess gestured at the children in the schoolyard. The boy he’d had the confrontation with in class this morning lounged beneath an oak. “That kid still shooting off his mouth?”

Sarah followed his gaze across the schoolyard. “Luke Trenton? He’s not so bad, really. But he lacks self-discipline. He’s the youngest of twelve, I understand, and apparently his folks grew weary of parental responsibility several children ago.”

“Twelve kids, huh?” Jess whistled low. He couldn’t keep 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. Those books are quite the rage. I recall reading in the newspaper that sales have set records.”

“Surely you read that before you got to Walker,” Kirby said. “Our little newspaper hardly carries any news from back East.”

Fiona smiled. “That’s why it’s so good to have new people in town.”

“I don’t think many people are saying that about our other newcomer.” Dwight reared back in his chair and sucked his gums. “That Logan fella is causing a stir, the way I hear it.”

The name sent a tingle racing up Sarah’s spine. She’d heard a few comments here and there about Jess, but didn’t allow herself to be drawn into gossiping.

Fiona dipped her head wisely. “I understand he was quite the troublemaker here in Walker.”

“Now, Fiona, that was years ago when he was just a boy, and we didn’t even live here then.” Emory waved away her comments. “It’s not our place to be spreading rumors and gossip.”

“I’ve heard the talk,” Dwight said. “And it doesn’t sound like rumors to me.”

Kirby turned to Nate. “You know what really happened. You grew up here. Jess was a good friend of yours, wasn’t he?”

Despite herself, Sarah’s ears perked up.

Nate put down his fork and chuckled. “I can’t say it was all Jess’s doing. We were both pretty wild back then. But we were just kids.”

“So it’s true?” Sarah asked. “The stories about the shooting and drinking and...other things.”

“Yeah, they were all true.” Nate laughed again.

“I say it’s disgraceful,” Fiona said.

Dwight thumped his fist on the table. “For all the joking we do about Buck Neville, at least we don’t have those problems in town now. It’s safe for decent, law-abiding people.” He cast a sidelong glance at Sarah. “Of course, a man would still want to protect his woman himself.”

Sarah turned away, avoiding his eyes.

“Alma Garrette told me Jess Logan was into all kinds of trouble even after he left Walker.” Fiona pursed her lips. “And to think, someone like him is raising Cassie Hayden’s children.”

“Fiona,” Emory cautioned. “The Lord stands in judgement, not we ourselves.”

“Of course.” She dipped her eyes contritely. “But, look at how well Cassie did for herself after her husband ran off. Teaching, caring for those children, always helping out any neighbor who needed it. She even bought that nice house and kept it up herself. And don’t you think it would have been easier for her if Jess Logan had been here to help? Where was he when his sister needed him?”

Dwight nodded. “You do have to wonder about a man like him raising those two children all alone. A man with his past.”

“I heard he turned his back on Walker and everybody in it years ago,” Fiona said. “Took off. And hadn’t been heard from until Cassie passed on. Now, I ask you. Is that the right thing to do?”

“There’s something you should know about Jess.” Nate wiped his mouth and laid his napkin aside. “Back when we were kids, Jess lost almost his whole family in a fire. His ma and pa, his two sisters and little brother. He was only twelve years old. Just he and Cassie got out of the house alive. His pa picked him up, threw him out the window. He’s got a scar on his arm where the glass cut him. Must be pretty hard, looking at a thing like that every day of your life, remembering the screaming and the flames.”

Everyone at the table fell silent. Sarah’s heart pounded.

“Cassie settled in with the Newton sisters here in town but they wouldn’t take Jess. He got passed around from one family to another. He got worse every time, too, and that just got him handed around more and more. He never had a home or a family. Never had anything he could call his own. Not after the fire.”

Sarah’s heart squeezed nearly to a stop. At that moment she wanted to take Jess in her arms and hold him close, take away all the pain and misery he’d suffered. The feeling nearly overwhelmed her.

“So that’s why he’s here,” Kirby said softly. “He doesn’t want the same thing to happen to Maggie and Jimmy.”

“Good intentions don’t make good actions. What’s best for those children is what’s important.” Dwight nodded curtly.

“But all of that happened so long ago,” Sarah said. “He certainly could have changed.”

A hush fell over the table. Fiona’s brows arched. “Talk like that will do you no good, Sarah. After all, you have a position in the community to maintain. I’m sure you wouldn’t want anyone to get the wrong idea.”

Sarah felt her cheeks flush. “No. Of course not.”

A schoolteacher’s job hung by the slender thread of her reputation, her reputation as perceived by the school board and the townspeople. They wouldn’t entrust the minds of their children to just anyone. Sarah knew she had to be careful, particularly where Jess Logan was concerned.

Dwight thumped his fist on the table. “That Logan fella may have good intentions, but I doubt he’ll be around for long. Probably will take off again, just like he did before.”

Sarah squirmed in her chair. She’d had enough of this conversation.

“Make plans now to come to the school a week from this Saturday,” she said. “I’m planning a pie social that afternoon and everyone’s invited.”

“Pie, huh?” Nate smiled broadly. “Count on me. I’ll be there.”

Sarah smiled. “Good. I’ll put you down for an apple cobbler.”

Everyone chuckled as Nate blushed. “I can’t bake anything. But I know a certain restaurant in town where I can get something good to bring.”

Kirby swatted him on the arm. “Mighty sure of yourself, Nate Tompkins.”

“I just know good pie when I eat it.”

A special look passed between Nate and Kirby that touched Sarah’s heart and left her with a profound feeling of happiness...and envy.

After supper Dwight helped her with her cloak, then latched onto her arm. “I’ll see you home.”

“No, thank you. It’s just a short walk.”

He leaned closer. “I insist.”

Behind him, Fiona smiled and bobbed her brows. Sarah felt everyone staring at her. She didn’t want to make a scene. “Well, all right. Thank you.”

Dwight patted her hand. “And, I’m going to show you the sights of Walker, such as they are. We’ll have supper, too. Tomorrow evening.”

“Really, Dwight, I don’t mink—”

“I insist.” He wagged his finger at her and led her out the front door.

Dwight talked about his feed and grain business as the cool night air swirled about thsm, but Sarah hardly listened. Dwight was nice enough—and certainly respectable—but she didn’t want to become involved with him. She’d vowed to keep to herself, not draw attention to herself. Fiona had been right. Talk circulating about her in town so soon after her arrival would do her no good.

. Lights shone in the window of Jess’s house a short distance down the road and Sarah found her gaze drawn to it like a beacon on a stormy night. A figure moved across the window. It had to be Jess—big, sturdy, nearly blocking out the light. The place seemed inviting, with the children inside and, of course, Jess.

Sarah’s stomach tightened as she stopped in front of her own home. A single dim lantern burned in the window, illuminating the sagging porch, chipped paint and broken steps.

“I’ll see you inside.” Dwight’s voice spoke directly into her ear; she felt his hot breath against her skin.

Sarah pulled away. “No, Mr. Rutledge. That would hardly be proper.”

“You’re not in St. Louis anymore. Things are different out here. People in Walker don’t stand on all that formality.”

“Perhaps the people of Walker don’t, Mr. Rutledge. But I do. Good evening.”

Sarah hurried up the rickety steps, Dwight’s soft chuckle resting on the evening breeze. She went into the house and turned the lock.

A more unappealing meal she’d never seen, and it took all the control Sarah could muster to sit by and not offer some of her own food to Maggie.

The midday sun shone through the white, billowing clouds as most of the children closed their lunch pails and hurried off to play. Seated next to Maggie at the benches beside the school, Sarah looked down at the food the child picked at.

Chicken, probably. It was hard to tell under all that charred crust. And that black, hard lump might have been a biscuit.

“I see your uncle packed your lunch today.” Sarah smiled down at her as she ate her own meal.

Maggie nodded. “Uncle Jess cooks all the time. He lets me help. I read Mama’s recipes to him. But they don’t taste the same.”

Sarah’s stomach rolled. “No, I don’t expect they do.”

“That’s ’cause I don’t know all the words.”

“Then maybe your uncle should read.” Anything would be an improvement.

“He says for me to read ’cause it’s good to be able to read.”

Mildly surprised, Sarah nodded. “Does your uncle ever read to you?”

“No. Mama had lots of books. She used to read to me and Jimmy sometimes at night. But Uncle Jess doesn’t read them.” Maggie pulled off a crust of chicken. “He makes up stories. He says they’re better than book stories.”

“And are they?”

Maggie laughed. “They’re funny. Uncle Jess makes up funny stories. He tells us one every single night.”

Sarah laughed, too, unable not to. “Still, wouldn’t you like to hear the stories in the books and look at the pictures?”

“Uncle Jess says he can paint the pictures in our heads with the words. He says you don’t have to be able to read to make good stories.”

Sarah’s stomach knotted. Was that the reason for the unpalatable meals? Jess couldn’t read?

“Can I go play now?” Maggie licked her fingers.

“Certainly, dear.” Sarah’s thoughts ran wild, imagining Jess’s childhood, the horrible death of his family right before his eyes, then bouncing from home to home having little guidance. He’d been such a behavior problem, maybe no one had taken the time to teach him. Maybe Jess Logan couldn’t read.

Sarah pushed herself to her feet and stalked across the schoolyard. No. No, she wouldn’t get involved. She couldn’t. She had to keep to herself. She needed this job and she needed this town. She needed a home. And she would be a part of Walker—albeit a distant, detached part—no matter how much her heart ached to help.

With a deep, cleansing sigh, Sarah climbed the steps to the schoolhouse. Absolutely, positively, without a shadow of a doubt, she would not get involved with Jess and the children. She would not.

“It’s just a simple stew. I thought you and the children might like some.”

Sarah held out the black kettle, bearing up under Jess’s harsh gaze from the back porch.

“I made too much for myself.”

His eyes narrowed.

“It’s beef and vegetables.”

His brows furrowed.

“It’s good.”

The line of his mouth hardened.

“It’s heavy.” Sarah winced and braced her outstretched arm with the other one.

He came down the steps and took the kettle from her, but still just stared at her.

“Besides, I owe you.” Sarah rubbed her forearm.

“For what?”

“Luke Trenton.” She waved him toward the door. “Put that on the stove before it gets cold.”

Jess looked at the kettle, then at her, at the house, then back to Sarah again. “You want to eat with us?”

A lump rose in Sarah’s throat. She shouldn’t even be here, let alone go inside. But it was doubtful anyone had seen her come to Jess’s house; the only close neighbor was Mrs. McDougal across the road and Sarah knew she was having supper with the Sullivans tonight.

She glanced around. “Well, all right.”

Jess held the door open for her and Sarah walked inside. He seemed bigger, growing taller and wider each time she saw him. And somehow it made her feel smaller, weaker, until her knees trembled, and made it harder to breathe.

Maggie and Jimmy were both in the kitchen, oblivious to the dirty dishes, the pile of dust under the broom in the corner, the disarray. They sat at the table, drawing with nubby pencils on sheafs of white paper.

“Hi, Miss Sarah.” Maggie smiled broadly. “We’re making pictures, aren’t we, Jimmy.”

The boy spared her a glance and turned back to his drawing.

Sarah stood in the corner, feeling uncomfortable. “I brought stew for supper. Anybody hungry?”

“Uncle Jess said we could make oatmeal cookies for supper. I told Mary Beth Myers we were.”

Sarah looked at Jess. “You giving the children cookies for supper?”

“After supper.” He pushed aside a greasy frying pan and sat the kettle on the stove. “Anything wrong with that?”

“No, of course not.” Sarah took off her cloak and unpinned her hat. “Let me help you.”

He glared at her. “I can do it.”

“I’m only offering to help with supper, Mr. Logan, not bear your child.”

The kettle lid slipped from Jess’s fingers and clattered onto the stove, then flipped onto the floor. His gaze riveted her in place.

Sarah turned away, her cheeks flaming. What on earth had she said? Why had she blurted out such a suggestive remark?

“See my picture, Miss Sarah?”

Grateful, Sarah peered over Maggie’s shoulder, admiring her drawing of a house with trees and flowers in the yard. Her own home, obviously.

“That’s lovely, Maggie. Let’s have a look at your brother’s work.”

Sarah pursed her lips as she gazed at Jimmy’s picture, crude sketches of bared teeth, narrow eyes on angry faces. She walked to the stove.

“I thought drawing might help him,” Jess said as he stirred the stew. “Since he won’t talk, maybe he’ll say what’s on his mind with the pictures.”

Sarah glanced over her shoulder at the table. “He’s very troubled.”

“With good reason.”

“What has the doctor said about him?”

Jess shuddered. “I’m not taking that boy to any doctor.”

“I understand Dr. Burns is very capable—”

“No.”

His reasoning was only too obvious. Sarah pursed her lips. “Really, Mr. Logan, just because you’re afraid of the doctor, doesn’t mean—”

“Afraid?” His gaze riveted her. “Who said anything about being afraid?”

She gave him an indulgent look.

Jess shifted uncomfortably. “I’m not taking Jimmy to any doctor, and that’s all there is to it.”

“What’s best for you, Mr. Logan, isn’t necessarily what’s best for Jimmy.”

Dammit. There she went, being right again. Jess clamped his mouth shut.

“At least consider it. Won’t you?”

“Yeah, I guess I will.” Jess looked down at her standing at his elbow. “Since I’ve got these two children already and don’t need anymore borne for me tonight, would you mind setting the table instead?”

Sarah’s cheeks pinkened, but she laughed, and to her surprise, Jess laughed with her, a deep, masculine laugh that rippled through her.

Together they got the meal on the table, Sarah’s stew, old coffee that was too strong, milk for the children, and warmed-over lumps of what were probably intended to be biscuits. Next time, she’d bring bread, Sarah thought, before she could stop herself.

The children ate two bowls full and Jess had three, scraping the last of the stew from the kettle and licking the spoon standing at the stove.

“Can Miss Sarah stay and bake cookies with us,

Uncle Jess?” Maggie gathered dishes from the table.

Sarah’s gaze met Jess’s. She couldn’t tell what he wanted, but knew she should go.

“I have lessons to plan for tomorrow.”

“Please stay.” Maggie took her hand. “Please. - Make her stay, Uncle Jess.”

“Stay if you want.” Jess pushed dirty dishes around on the sideboard. “Besides, since I owe this meal to that Trenton boy I’d like to know what exactly 1 have to thank him for.”

“Oh yes, Luke.” Sarah carried a stack of bowls to the sink. “After your little talk with him in class the other morning, he’s behaved much better. I guess he doesn’t get much discipline at home. So, I wanted to thank you.”

Jess gave the spoon a final lick. “For stew this good I’ll rough up every kid in the class. You just say the word.”

His eyes crinkled at the corners and danced with flecks of blue. Sarah laughed with him.

A knock sounded on the back door. Jess pointed with the spoon. “Get that, will you, Maggie?”

Sarah’s heart skipped a beat as the door opened and Nate Tompkins walked into the room. He raised an eyebrow at seeing her there, but didn’t say anything.

Jess shook his hand. “Sit down. Have some coffee, Nate.”