Teaching Abby (Lone Star Family Values)

by Goldie Ledbury

  She forced herself to laugh. “Must be indigestion,” she said. “I wished you’d been here tonight. Calla outdid herself, roast beef and roast potatoes.” She didn’t add that she’d barely eaten any of it. The stress of the library situation had killed off her appetite.

  Diverted, Mac asked about Calla and Jeb’s wellbeing, and told her a little about what he was doing. “I think it’ll take a week more,” he said when he’d finished. “I can’t wait to get back.”

  Swallowing hard, Abby whispered, “I’m counting the days.”

  Mac’s sigh was heavy. “Me, too.”

  After the call, Abby felt disconsolate and restless. She had a bath then switched on the television, but nothing held her interest. She tried reading, but couldn’t concentrate. Finally, she decided to go and make a cup of tea. Maybe that would help her to settle down.

  She wandered into the kitchen, which as usual was gleaming and spotless. The ranch was quiet; Jeb and Calla had already turned in for the night, and she assumed Nick was in his own cabin. She turned on the kettle, and then went to gaze out of the window whilst she waited for it to boil.

  At this time of the year, darkness fell late, and she could still see the shadowy outline of the mountains in the distance. Their beauty soothed her; they were tranquil and timeless, far removed from the small, every day cares of mortal men. Somehow, they helped to put everything into perspective. They would still be there long after she, and Mac, and Mr. Franks had gone. Mr. Franks... She bit her lip. Did she dare go to work tomorrow?

  She was so deep in thought that she didn’t hear the back door open and Nick walk in. The first she knew was when a hand touched her arm. She spun round with a frightened cry, throwing her arm up to knock his away and staggered backwards.

  “Abby, it’s me!”

  Nick reached out to grab her as she lost her balance, but she twisted out of his grasp. “Don’t touch me!”

  He froze and then backed off fast, his hands in the air. His eyes were watchful.

  Abby dragged in huge lungfuls of air, trying to calm down. She had been thinking about Mr. Franks and had overreacted horribly. Embarrassment crawled through her, and she flushed. “Nick... I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you come in.”

  “No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

  She shook her head. “I was miles away.”

  “You must have been.” He glanced at the kettle, noting the steam. “You were making a drink?”

  “Yes. Tea.”

  “I’ll make it.”

  He turned and took two mugs from the shelf, and went to the fridge for milk. As he busied himself pouring the drinks, Abby sat down at the kitchen table. Her hands were shaking, and she tucked them under her arms.

  Nick put her mug down in front of her, and sat down opposite. For a minute he said nothing, but Abby gained the uncomfortable impression that he saw far more than she wanted him to. Finally he sighed and stretched. “I wasn’t going to come back to the homestead tonight, but the vet came to check on one of the animals, and I thought I’d pop in for a drink before I went back to the cabin,” he said.

  “Ah.” She picked up her mug, wrapping her hands around it, and took a deep swallow. “That explains it. I thought everyone had turned in for the night.”

  “You couldn’t sleep?”

  “Too restless.”

  “Something on your mind?”

  Abby’s head jerked up. “No!”

  Uneasily aware that her reaction was a bit over-the-top, she moderated her tone and said lightly, “Well, not really. Just missing Mac.”

  “Right.”

  There was a long silence. It was obvious that he didn’t believe her, and was waiting for her to say something else. When she didn’t, he asked, “How are things at the library?”

  She tensed imperceptibly, but Nick’s sharp eyes noted it. “They’re okay,” she said stiltedly. “Busy. Quite busy.”

  He said idly, “My wife was like you.”

  Abby looked at him in surprise. Nick was a very private man, and apart from the brief discussion during his interview, he’d never mentioned his wife once.

  “Was she?” she asked, softly.

  “Yeah.” He sighed and looked down at his mug. “She would never talk about her problems, either. Always tried to soldier on alone.”

  Abby felt his words like a punch in the gut. She swallowed hard. “Yes, well, sometimes there are reasons.”

  “Uh-huh. There always are. It’s my guess you’re trying to deal with stuff alone because Mac’s already got his hands full. Am I right?”

  He was, but she wasn’t about to admit it. She got up and rinsed out her cup. “I’m fine, Nick. There’s nothing to worry about.”

  “You’re sure there’s nothing wrong at the library?”

  “No!”

  He sighed. “Okay. But Abby…”

  She turned to look at him. “Yes?”

  He smiled, gently. “Mac’s not here, but I am. If you’re in trouble, or need help of any kind at all, tell me.”

  Later that night, tossing and turning in bed, she thought about his words. It was kind of Nick to offer help, but what could he do? What could anyone do? Looking at it realistically, what could she say Mr. Franks had done wrong? He’d caught hold of her when she bumped into him. He’d put his arm around her briefly. He might – just might – have looked at her legs. It was nothing. She was making a complete mountain out of a molehill. She would go to work tomorrow and it would be fine.

  She woke up the next morning with a knot of dread in her stomach. She really didn’t relish going to work to face the older man’s dark, threatening eyes again. But if she didn’t, he would have won, and she didn’t want that. Besides, the club for older children was scheduled for four o’clock, and she couldn’t let them down. She knew that a lot of the youngsters actively looked forward to their time in the library, and a lot of them also used it to seek her help with their homework. If she didn’t go in, they’d be so disappointed.

  Dressing in the loosest, darkest clothes she owned, she walked reluctantly downstairs for breakfast. Calla was bustling around in the kitchen, and to her surprise, Nick was also sitting at the table, cradling a cup of coffee.

  “Morning,” she said dully as she walked in.

  “Morning, Abby,” Calla replied. “Toast and coffee?”

  “Just coffee, please.”

  Calla frowned, and poured her a steaming mug full. “You’re not eating enough to keep a bird alive,” she grumbled. “Mac will think we’re not feeding you whilst he’s not here!”

  Abby gave a wan smile. “I’m okay,” she said. “Just not hungry.”

  She sat down at the table opposite Nick, flushing a little as she remembered their conversation from the night before. Oddly, he looked tired and drawn.

  “Sleep well, Abby?” he asked.

  No. “Fine, thanks.”

  He hesitated. “You look a little under the weather. Why don’t you give yourself a break and call in sick today?”

  She looked at him, startled. What he suggested sounded so tempting. But then her shoulders slumped. If she didn’t go in and face Mr. Franks today, she might never be able to bring herself to go in again. Besides, there was the club.

  “I can’t,” she said quietly. “It’s the children’s club from four till six, and it’s too short notice to cancel.”

  “Couldn’t Holly cover it for you?”

  “No.” She didn’t want to tell him that Holly had been moved onto a different shift. She had a bad feeling that he already suspected something was wrong at the library; his question last night had shown that. “I... I have to go.” She stood up quickly. “I... I’ll see you later.”

  She left the ranch quickly, oblivious to the looks of concern on Nick and Calla’s faces.

  By the time she arrived at the library, she was feeling physically sick and every muscle in her body was tense. She knew she was over reacting; Mr. Franks couldn’t possibly be as bad as she’d built him u
p to be in her mind’s eye. She’d go in today and it would all be forgotten.

  But it wasn’t. The atmosphere when she walked in was frigid. Mr. Franks glared at her and then ignored her, and she was quite relieved when he retreated to his office, leaving her to deal with the busy library herself. Even so, she felt uncomfortable, more so when she glanced up and realized that Mr. Franks was watching her beadily from his office window.

  Still, he was leaving her alone, which was exactly what she wanted. Spine stiffening, she focused on the job in hand, serving people quickly and efficiently. Even at lunchtime, Mr. Franks did not emerge from his office, so she worked through, determined to just get the day over with.

  Things got so hectic that she didn’t notice the time, and it wasn’t until the library emptied that she thought to check. She was shocked to see that it was ten past five, and not a single soul had turned up for her children’s group. She frowned, confused, as Mr. Franks emerged from his office and locked the outer door.

  She checked her watch and compared the time to that of the clock on the wall. “That’s odd,” she said. “The children’s group was due to start at four.”

  He pocketed the key and walked towards her. “Yes. I cancelled it.”

  “You cancelled it?”

  “Mmm. I had no idea if you were going to turn up today after yesterday’s performance.”

  “Performance?”

  He smiled. “I thought you would, though. I saw I’d struck a nerve when I said you were missing your husband.”

  “What... what do you mean?” She stiffened as he approached. All of her instincts were screaming that this man was dangerous. And he had just locked the door to the library, leaving them alone together.

  He looked at her, his eyes dark and intent. “You need a man. It’s obvious. You’ve come back today because you want me.”

  Her eyes widened. She knew she was in danger. She wished desperately that she’d trusted her own instincts, and not come into work. She should have told Mac. Trying to stay calm, she said, “I... I am missing Mac. But I didn’t come to work for... that. I’m married, and I believe in being faithful.”

  A flash of fury crossed his features. “Don’t give me that!” he snarled. “What would girls know about being faithful? You’re just like her.”

  “Her?”

  “My wife. My bitch of a wife. Sleeping around... well, she won’t be doing that any more.” He said it with such savage satisfaction that her blood ran cold.

  “She... won’t?”

  “No.” His eyes took on a peculiarly brilliant shine. “It served her right. She deserved it. Now no one can have her.”

  Abby could barely believe what she was hearing. What did he mean? He couldn’t really mean— Frightened to ask, but needing to know, she whispered, “Did you hurt her?”

  His eyes narrowed. “Why Abby? Are you worried I might hurt you? I won’t you know, as long as you do as you’re told. As long as you’re a good girl.”

  Nausea churned deep inside her stomach, but she fought for calm. She knew that the situation was on a knife-edge; that one wrong move might tip him into violence.

  She quickly reviewed what was on the desk beside her. What could she use as a weapon? There was so little there.

  He rounded the desk and walked slowly towards her. She had the impression that, like an animal hunting prey, he was enjoying the tense moment before he pounced.

  “Mr. Franks – D-Duncan – maybe we can work something out—”

  He reached her, and looked down at her with an odd kind of tenderness, edged with excitement. Abby could smell the faint odor of perspiration, and feel the heat emanating from him. His shoulders were broad and his arms strong, and she knew that it would be nigh on impossible to fight him off.

  Slowly, he raised his hand, and stroked one finger down her cheek. “Finally,” he said, as if to himself, “finally, she calls me by my name.”

  She looked up into his dark eyes, which were merciless and devoid of pity. Instead, he looked at her with a kind of authority, a sense of control and ownership. A smile played on his lips. “Now, do as you’re told—”

  Like a snake striking, he suddenly grabbed her hair and pulled her head back towards the desk. She screamed, her hands flying up to claw at his arms as her body was bent backwards, her hips forced into intimate contact with his. His other hand grabbed her blouse and with one powerful jerk, tore it off her.

  The pain of her hair being pulled and the explosive fear obliterated rational thought, but she writhed and kicked out, her hands scrabbling blindly against the desk for anything she could use as a weapon. She grabbed a jar of paperclips and slammed it against the side of his head, sending a cascade of tiny metal clips arcing into the air. The jar smashed, cutting his face. With a curse, he grabbed her arm and thrust it under her hips, pinning it there against the hard edge of the counter, and then, to her horror, she felt him ripping at the fastening of her trousers.

  Breath sobbed in her tortured lungs as she struggled to breathe with his weight against her. She felt her vision go fuzzy and fought it. She could not pass out now; he would kill her! Desperately, she tried to thrust her head forward to bite him, but bent so far back against the desk, she couldn’t reach him.

  And then, for one second, his hips lifted from hers as he tried to pull down her trousers, and she screamed again, jerking her knee upwards, kicking out wildly.

  Dimly, she heard the sound of glass breaking, but at the same moment, she felt his whole bodyweight collapse onto her, knocking every bit of breath out of her. She choked, winded, unable to breathe. This was it, she was defenseless, he was going to rape her and she was going to die—

  She heard him groan like an animal in pain, and then suddenly the weight was lifted off her, and Mac, with a vulpine snarl of fury, flung him across the room so hard that he landed in a crumpled heap against the wall.

  She slid to the floor, unable to breathe, vaguely aware that there were other people present, but with eyes only for Mac as he dropped to his knees beside her, his eyes anguished. And then darkness overcame her and the world went black.

  Chapter 4

  She awoke in her own bed, and for a moment lay looking at the ceiling, wondering why she felt so odd. Then memory turned, and she gave a low groan, rolling onto her side and curling up in a defensive ball. In her peripheral vision something moved, and she screamed in alarm.

  “Whoa! Darling, it’s me!” Suddenly Mac was there beside her. He knelt down to look at her face. She buried it in the pillow, hunching her shoulders, closing her eyes tightly. She could feel her body shaking.

  She heard him murmur something, and then someone else came, and she felt a prick in her arm. And then she felt the world fading, and sank gratefully back into the darkness.

  The next time she came back round there was no one in the room and she felt calmer. Her eyes opened, and she remembered immediately what had happened. Mr. Franks had tried to assault her, but had been interrupted. Mac had thrown him off her.

  And then, with a jolt, she recalled Mr. Franks talking about his wife. Had he really— She needed to warn someone, to tell the sheriff.

  Moving experimentally, she discovered that she felt bruised and stiff, but otherwise uninjured. She swung her legs to the side of the bed, and stood up shakily. The room swayed, then righted itself. Taking a deep breath, she walked over to the wardrobe and took out her robe. Tying the belt tightly around her, she left the room.

  She walked slowly down to the kitchen and stood in the doorway. Mac was there, seated at the table with his head in his hands. To her surprise, Nick, Holly and the sheriff were sitting beside him. Jeb and Calla were stood together, holding hands. She thought, irrelevantly, that she’d never seen them do that before, and then Mac looked up and saw her and leapt from his chair.

  “Abby! We didn’t think you’d be awake for hours yet. The doctor said you’d probably be out until gone eight.”

  She smiled, shakily. “I guess I was ready to wa
ke up.”

  He approached her cautiously, and she wondered why, until she remembered that he’d been in the room earlier and she’d just curled up in a ball. Her face softened, and she opened her arms to him. With a groan, he wrapped his arms around her. “Darling, are you okay?” he whispered.

  She relaxed against his warm body, feeling safe in his arms. It was like coming home. “Oh, yes,” she breathed. “What are you doing here?”

  He looked down at her tenderly, and stroked her hair. “I’ll tell you later, honey,” he said.

  The sheriff stepped forward, his face hard. Abby hadn’t seen him since the shoot out, and he looked worn and faintly stressed. “Abby, do you feel up to telling me what happened?” he asked. He glanced at Mac. “I need to take her statement. If there’s somewhere private?”

  Mac nodded. “You can go in my office.”

  “Thank you.”

  Abby hesitated. “Actually, Sheriff, would it be okay if Mac came in with me?”

  The policeman’s eyes softened. “If you want him to,” he said gently.

  Two hours later, Abby finished recounting her tale. It was a harrowing story, and Abby felt wrung out by the time she’d finished. Mac, in the chair beside her, was paper white.

  “Sheriff,” Abby concluded, “I’m really worried about Mr. Franks’ wife.”

  The sheriff gave a deep sigh. “Abby, I guess you don’t know how we came to turn up at the library just in time?”

  She shook her head. “You were there? I thought there were other people but I only saw Mac.”

  He nodded. “I was there. So were Nick and Holly.”

  Confused, Abby stared at him. “Why? Why were they there?”

  Mac sighed. “The sheriff was there because I called him, Abby.”

  “You did? But how did you know?”

  Mac grimaced. “I was worried about you, Abby. You didn’t sound yourself on the phone. Then Calla let slip that you weren’t eating and didn’t want to go to work, and that you’d started dressing differently. I thought, at first, that maybe you were just missing me, but it sounded more than that.”

  Abby flushed. She should have told him, and now she wished quite desperately that she had. But at the time she’d wanted to spare him any worries, never dreaming that Mr. Franks would turn out to be such a dangerous man.