by Tysche Dwai
“Let me make you some coffee.”
“That would be right nice,” she sighed, laying her head against his chest. “I don’t know how I feel about this...everything that meant anything to me in the world yesterday is in that house. Now, that stuff don’t seem too important anymore.” She glanced up at him. “Not as long as I have you.”
Jayne felt a surge of emotion wash through him. Yes, it was fast—probably too fast—but he felt the same way about the woman in his arms. He had known her less than a day. He didn’t really know her at all, to be honest with himself. But she had captured him body and soul with those glittering green eyes and that impish smile.
“Let’s get you that coffee,” he said softly, leaving his arm about her waist as he turned her toward the house.
When they were settled in the tiny cottage again, Starr on the chair and Jayne sitting on the trunk, with steaming cups of passable coffee in front of them, Jayne reached over and took her hand.
“You said it could be anybody, but you have somebody in mind, don’t you?”
She looked down into the cup. “Yeah. I got a pretty good idea.”
“Who is it?”
She sighed heavily. “Remember the prisoner I told you about? The one being transported in the morning?”
“Yes.”
“Well, he’s the middle of three brothers who used to think of this as their town. Eldest one went and got himself killed by a certain sheriff he married. Baby is out to see that the sheriff pays for breaking up their happy home.”
“So this brother is likely to be coming after you?”
“He’s tried it afore, but nothing this bad.”
“Are you in danger?”
“I’m the sheriff,” she said with a shrug.
Jayne shook his head. “I hate to think about it.”
“It’s what I do. Maybe not what I wanted, but what I am stuck with.”
He reached over and took the cup out of her hands, setting it on the table. He pulled her to her feet and led her to the bed.
Starr dug in her heels and pulled against him. “Jay...I don’t want
to—”
“Hush. You need rest. Your house is unavailable. All I want to do is get you to sleep.”
“I’ll go to the Dew Drop Inn or Maisie’s. Someone will have a room.”
“There’s a perfectly good bed right over here.”
“People will talk—”
“Let them.” He stopped pulling and took her into his arms. “I know it is crazy, Starr, but I don’t want to lose you. If it means I have to marry you to protect you, I guess I’ll have to do that.”
She stared at him and then burst into laughter. “Marry me? Teacher, you are teched in your head.”
“Nope. I am seeing clearly for the first time in a long time.”
Starr sighed heavily, shaking her head. “I cain’t even think about that now. Maybe tomorrow. But I am a might tired. I’ll just lie down for a minute or two.”
He settled her on the bed and pulled off her boots, massaging her feet until she purred like a kitten. “That feels good. Melting every bone in my body.”
“That’s the plan. Anything to make you relax.” Jayne grinned at her. “Now, you rest.” He pulled the quilt over her, tucking it beneath her chin.
She blinked up at him. “What are you going to do?” she murmured, stifling a yawn. “There’s only one bed.”
“I’ll make do,” Jayne replied, patting her hand. “Sleep.”
Her eyes drifted shut, and Jayne studied her face. There was a streak of soot on one cheek, and she looked pale and exhausted. A little slip of a girl like this was not cut out to be sheriff, no matter how hard she tried.
Tiptoeing across to the door, Jayne eased it open and stepped into the night. There was no way he was going to sleep tonight. Maybe he could be some help.
Jayne smelled smoke on the breeze, and the firehouse was dark. He followed his nose past the school to the wide prairie beyond the town boundaries. The sound of shouts and a roaring fire directed him to the shell of a large wooden house engulfed in flames. It had been an impressive two-story building from the skeletal framework remaining. Jayne could see the house was a complete loss, as Starr had said. A barn loomed ghostly across the yard, and so far, it seemed spared. Jayne could see buckets of water were being tossed upon both house and barn. He stepped into the line of men passing buckets and pitched in.
“Who are you?” growled the man to his left suspiciously.
“New teacher, Jay Kincaid.” He made the alteration to his name without even thinking about it.
“Good to meet you.” The man passed him a dripping bucket and nodded toward the next man in line. “Pass that on to Mark there. I’m Zeke Barstow. Have five of your students in my house.”
Jayne passed along the bucket, managing to slosh only a third of the water to the ground.
“Takes a bit to get the rhythm,” commented the man on his right. “Mark Fielding here. Got six kids myself.”
Jayne took another bucket from Zeke and passed it to Mark. This time he managed not to spill any appreciable amount.
Mark grinned at him, teeth glowing white in a face covered with soot. “You’re a fast learner. That’s good in a teacher, ain’t it?”
Jay laughed. It felt good to pitch in and be part of something. This might not be such a bad town to put down roots after all.
It was dawn before the last of the embers were declared out. A pile of drenched, smoking charred lumber sent a throat-clogging stench of burnt wood into the clear morning air. It was already warm, and the sun had barely cleared the horizon.
Jayne eased his aching back.
“Come down to the firehouse for a cup of coffee,” Zeke offered. “It’s rough the first time.”
Jayne nodded. “I don’t see how you can do this night after night.”
“Well, not too many fires in these parts, really. This one was probably set by someone. Poor little gal. She don’t deserve something like this.”
“Starr? Sheriff Prescott?” he corrected himself.
“Yep. She has had nothing but heartache from the day her mama died in childbirth. Her daddy did his best, but trying to settle his feud with the Corrigon boys by marrying her to Clive was a terrible thing to do. And when Clive shot her daddy in front of her, well, no one really blamed her for shooting him back. Seth tried to raise a ruckus about it, but there were three witnesses to what happened.”
“Seth is...?”
“Seth is the youngest boy. Duncan is the one in the jailhouse now. He used his fists instead of his mouth. Tried to punch the sheriff in the jaw over to Maisie’s the other day. She’s a wiry little thing. Managed to trip him up and get him under control before two of the deputies showed up to haul him in.”
“Seems like a dangerous job for a lady.”
“Yep. Starr was all set to be a teacher herself. She loves books and learning. She was head of her class when she was in school. Likes to talk tough and pretend to be hard-nosed, but she’d rather be curled up with a book any day.”
Jayne rocked back on his heels. This was interesting information. No wonder she had looked so longingly at the teacher’s desk at the schoolhouse.
“Why didn’t she let someone else take over the Sheriff’s office?”
“Sheer stubborn pride if you ask me,” commented Mark. “There’s been a Prescott heading that jail since there has been a Temptation. She feels responsible for the whole damn town.”
“And no chance for what she wants?”
“How many schoolmarms are sheriffs?” Zeke scoffed. “She has to be one or t’other. Cain’t have it both ways.”
Jayne saw again the wistful look on Starr’s face as she trailed her hand up the row of school desks. Maybe he could help her reach her dream. Surely there was someone else who could be sheriff. Though if Starr became a teacher, Temptation wouldn’t need his services...
Well, it wouldn’t be tomorrow, whatever happened.
; He followed the firefighters back to the firehouse and accepted a cup of coffee gratefully. The aromatic steam rising from the liquid refreshed his tired senses. Its bitter darkness traced a line of warmth down to his belly. This was not the genteel beverage laced with cream and sugar that had been a staple of his father’s breakfast table. This was raw-boned strength. It fit the Texas town.
Finishing the coffee, he set the cup down on the long dining table dominating the firehouse. “Guess it is time I was getting home,” he said, rising to his feet. “Thanks for letting me participate.”
Zeke grinned at him. “Always glad to have another able-bodied man on the line.” He held out a soot-covered hand, and Jayne shook it. It felt good to belong.
As he stepped next door to his own house, Jayne glanced around him with a new appreciation for the tiny town. The early morning sun gilded the buildings with a warm golden glow that was almost magical. It was a town living up to its name. Here was a Temptation to settle down and make a new life for himself. And it all centered around a five foot nothing spitfire waiting for him in his bed.
He eased open the front door of the house a crack and peered into the dimness. Starr was where he had left her, curled up like a child under the worn quilt. With her hair tousled from sleep, she looked impossibly young.
Jayne slipped into the house, sitting on the chair and easing off his shoes. He’d need to replace the low-topped footwear with some proper boots. Zeke had pointed out there were a lot of snakes at fire scenes sometimes, and if he intended to help the firefighters on a regular basis, he needed protection.
Glancing over at Starr once more, he wondered just how long ago she had finished school. So much had happened to her in so brief a time...
He padded over to the bed in his stocking feet and adjusted the coverlet around her. He wanted to protect her for the rest of his days. She deserved someone looking out for her for a change.
As he stood gazing down at her, she stirred and blinked her eyes sleepily. “Howdy there, Teacher,” she murmured. “Anything left?”
“The house is gone, but they did manage to save the barn.” He yawned and ran a hand over his face.
She patted the bed beside her. “Come and lie down a spell. You’re all worn out.”
He shucked out of his trousers and socks and climbed onto the bed.
Starr lifted the quilt for him to crawl under. “If we do set about making this a more permanent arrangement, you’ve got to get a bigger bed,” she teased.
“Does that mean...?”
“I said if, Teacher. Don’t go getting your hopes up yet.”
Jayne settled next to her, holding her against his chest spoon-fashion. He breathed in her ear, “I think the Sheriff is overdressed.”
Suddenly, Starr sat bolt upright. “I think the Sheriff is about to miss the stage! Sorry, Teacher, but I have work to do. I got to get Duncan on that stage.” She scrambled out of bed and snatched up her boots. As she danced on one foot trying to get into them, Jayne propped himself on one elbow.
“I thought the stage rolled in at noon.”
“It does, but there is a passel of paperwork and so forth to do before then to make sure everything is legal and such.”
“Want some help?”
“Naw, you get some rest. Me and the boys can handle it fine. I’ll be at the jail the rest of the day if you want to come over about noon time and get some vittles at Maisie’s.”
“That sounds right nice,” drawled Jayne with a grin.
She scowled at him. “My grammar might not be up to your East coast standards, Mr. Kincaid, but I do know how to speak correctly if I need to. Most of the time, I just don’t bother out here. What’s the point?”
He ducked his head to evade the fire in her eyes. “I’m sorry, Starr. I wasn’t trying to make fun of you.”
“Well, we didn’t all get to go to a high-faluting teachers’ college, remember.” She wrenched open the door. “Thank you for your hospitality, Mr. Kincaid. I think it would be better if I booked a room at the Dew Drop in future.”
As she slammed the door behind her, Jayne dropped back into the bed with a groan. He was in for it now. One thing he had learned back East was that there was nothing harder than winning back a woman who thought you had wronged her, but he was sure going to try.
Right after a few hours sleep. His eyes closed of their own accord, and soon he fell into a dream...
He stood before Starr’s burning house, but instead of the fear it had instilled in him the night before, it was the personification of raw energy and power. He held Starr in his arms, but they were alone under a sky shimmering with stars. There were no firefighters, no spectators, no outlaws skulking in the shadows—and no clothes.
Her skin glowed ruddy in the firelight, her hair a nimbus of copper sparks. She took his breath away.
Gently, he laid her down on the dry grass of the door yard, and instead of the sharp, brittle spikes he knew it to be, it was soft as velvet beneath them. He stretched out beside her, gazing into those sparkling eyes of hers, and he felt himself drawn into a kiss that seemed to stretch to infinity.
He fed upon her mouth, playing tag with her tongue. Nipping gently, he broke the kiss at last and let his lips caress her flesh in a series of fleeting touches from her throat down to her upright nipples. He took each in turn into his mouth, teasing them until he had her arching against him, whimpering for more.
He felt his cock twitching against her thigh as it grew aroused in turn. It was a building ache deep inside him, and he needed her more than he had ever needed or desired a woman in his life.
Shifting to place its tip against the entrance of her secret valley, he slid forward slowly, bringing a growl of frustration from Starr. Her hands scrabbled against his back, striving to draw him deeper, but he held his pace. It was sheer torture. Infinite sensation doled out with excruciating deliberation. But it was an exquisite fire that matched the inferno raging behind them for intensity.
He felt his pelvis contact the soft curls of her mound, and knew he could go no further—and yet he did—one more fraction deeper that made Starr cry out and rake his back with her nails. The resultant pleasure/pain sent him over the edge, and he drove into her tight sheath, spiraling upward and upward on cresting waves of sensation.
Starr bucked beneath him, cries and whimpers of pleasure rising into the night like the smoke from the fire. Finally, with a scream of release that echoed his own, she arched against him and then collapsed into the soft grass.
Blinking up at him in sated satisfaction, she purred, “A girl could get used to this, teacher-man.”
He surely did hope so...
Jayne started awake. He had some convincing to do.
He moved to sit up, and fell back with a groan. Every muscle in his body hurt, especially his back and shoulders. He hadn’t realized the strain at the time, while slinging the water buckets. How did the fire fighters do it? He was going to have to get into better shape if he wanted to help them on a regular basis.
Rolling off the bed, he managed to drag himself upright and limp to the bowl and pitcher on the dresser. He poured some of the lukewarm water into the basin and washed his face free of as much of the soot from last night’s adventure as he could see. Glancing at the bed, he saw smudges of black on the sheets. He grinned ruefully. He was going to have to find out where to get a bath in this town—and a laundry facility. Amazing how much he had taken for granted in his father’s house.
Jayne pulled on fresh clothes and cut himself a slab from the loaf in the breadbox. It was already beginning to go stale. He would need to revise his shopping habits too, he supposed.
Munching on the bread, he stepped out into the morning sunshine. From the angle of the shadows, it was not yet noon. He checked his impression against his father’s pocket watch. Yes, not quite eleven. The stage would be in soon. And Starr’s prisoner should be going out on it.
Maybe he’d just meander on over and watch. He had no idea what good he c
ould do if there were trouble, but at least he’d be there to try. Not that he’d ever had much call to deal with guns in his sedate lifetime. He had some idea which end to point at a troublemaking outlaw...but as far as loading it with bullets or firing it...well, as Mark had said, he was a fast learner.
He could stop over at the mercantile and see if Pete had something he could learn with. Every man in these parts needed a six-shooter. And a pair of boots. Maybe even a hat. Though he’d be almost out of money...perhaps he could find an odd job or two until school started.
He had been walking as he worked this out, and now found himself standing outside the general store. Jayne stepped up onto the wooden sidewalk and opened the door. There was a tinkle from the brass bell suspended over the entryway, and Pete Flannagan came from the back to greet him.
“Back so soon, I see,” said the Irishman with a grin. “Were you forgetting something yesterday, Mr. Kincaid?”
“Well, Pete, I tell you. I think I need a pair of boots for starters. And I was thinking...maybe I should have a pistol of some kind.”
Flannagan clicked his teeth and shook his head. “Now what would a teacher such as yourself be needing a weapon for? ‘Tis better to let those who know what they are about to truck with such things.”
“I’d just feel better knowing I could defend myself.”
“Well, if you are determined to shoot your own foot off, this is a right nice piece.” Flannagan reached under the counter and pulled out a revolver. He broke it open and showed it to Jayne. “Quick action, but not a hair-trigger. I’ll throw in a box of ammunition with it for ten dollars.”
Jayne winced. Maybe not a hat. “I’ll take it,” he replied with a sigh. “What will the boots set me back?”
Flannagan glanced at his feet. “Luckily for you, you appear to have average feet. I think I have a pair in stock that might do you. Will be another five dollars.”
Jayne counted out fifteen dollars from his shrinking purse.
Flannagan pocketed the money, and spent the next twenty minutes showing the teacher how to load and clean the pistol. He put the box of bullets and the cleaning gear into a flour sack for Jayne, and threw in a worn holster rig he insisted, “came with the gun.” He helped Jayne settle it in place and tie it down. “Now, I hope you don’t try to go and quick draw that gun without a mite of practice,” the shopkeeper warned.
