Garrett laughed and wrapped his arm around Luke’s shoulder in a friendly greeting. “Just relax and enjoy the festivities, cuz. You know these folks jump at any chance to get together for a celebration, especially those who live outside of town. Farming and ranching can be a lonely life.”
“Maybe so, but I don’t like being the center of attention.”
Mark strode toward them carrying two cups, a grin widening his face. “Nice party, isn’t it?”
He handed Luke a mug of something. Luke sniffed it, ignoring his question. Apple cider. He sipped the sweet drink, watching, looking for trouble. With so many people gathered in such a small spot, it was bound to happen sooner or later.
“So, how’s it feel to be thirty, ol’ man?” Mark lifted his cup to his lips.
“Where’s mine?” Garrett stood with his hands on his hips. “I sent you off to get us a drink, and you give mine to Luke?”
Mark grinned. “He’s the birthday boy. Fetch your own refreshment.”
Garrett snarled his lip at Mark and muttered a phony growl, making Luke chuckle. His cousins were all the family he had left, and Lookout had been the only town he’d ever called home. He’d prayed long and thought hard before quitting the cavalry and returning to Lookout, but in the end, family and familiarity won out—not to mention he believed it was what God wanted him to do. His gaze journeyed to where Rachel was cutting pies at a table. Tonight the town was filled with women, and he only had eyes for one. He shook his head. How pathetic he was.
“Why don’t you ask her to dance?” Garrett nudged Luke in the arm.
“What?” Luke shot a glance at his cousin, realizing he’d been caught staring.
“Go ask Rachel to dance.”
“It may be my birthday, but I’m still on duty.”
“Someone else will ask her if you don’t.”
At that very moment, Rand Kessler stopped at Rachel’s table. He stood close to her and said something. Rachel offered a half smile and shook her head. Rand leaned closer. Luke’s hackles lifted. Rachel nodded then waved to the doctor’s wife, who came and took her place at the pie table. Rand offered Rachel his arm, and she took it, allowing him to lead her toward the dancing couples.
“If you still have any interest in Rachel, don’t wait too long.” Garrett gave him a knowing look. “Rand Kessler’s been after her to marry him for a year now.”
Luke ignored the comment, though it ate at him. “How big of a ranch does this Kessler have?”
“Big. He’s one of the more prosperous ranchers in this area.”
Great. So Rachel was after another man with money. Even if Luke was interested in her, she’d never give a low paid town marshal a second look. He ground down hard on his back teeth. Maybe the best thing he could do was get married; then he’d have a woman who could help take his mind off Rachel Hamil—
A blast of shots rang out. Luke flung down the tin cup and yanked out his gun. Max lurched to his feet, whimpering, and disappeared into the jail office. Luke scanned the throng of merchants, farmers, and families gathered along Main Street. Where was the shooter?
His heart galloped. A shooter in such a crowded area could be a disaster. “Did you see the gunman?”
Beside him, Garrett held the same rigid stance. “No. It didn’t sound too close, but it’s hard to tell with all the noise here.”
Luke searched the rowdy crowd. The townsfolk square-danced, chatted, and carried on as if nothing had happened. Had the band’s music muffled the gunfire so they hadn’t heard it? Couldn’t they sense the danger?
The rapid pop sounded again. People on the fringe of the mass spun about, turning concerned stares toward the noise. A woman screamed and grabbed her husband.
“Over there.” Garrett pointed toward the bank with his gun, and then he holstered it. “Stupid kids. Don’t they know they can spark a blaze with those firecrackers?”
Shaking his head at the trio of adolescents, Luke pocketed his pistol. “I’ll run ’em off.”
Mark stepped forward. “Let me and Garrett do it. After all, it’s your party.”
“Yeah, but I’m the marshal. It’s what I get paid to do.” He glanced at the nearby table laden with desserts, where Rachel had been serving pie. “One of you could grab me a slice of Rachel’s apple pie before it’s gone.”
Luke loped toward the bank. Truth be told, he appreciated the town’s celebration of his birthday, but he hated having everyone’s attention focused on him. As the marshal, he was more used to standing back, watching everybody else. He stopped in front of the mercantile and gazed across the road, watching the spot where the youngsters had been gathered. Two of the boys were gone, but a small shape huddled near the corner of the bank. The spark of a match illuminated the child’s face.
Jack.
Not again. Luke strode around the corner, gritting his teeth.
The child glanced up, eyes widening. The match fell to the ground, and Jack took off like a rabbit freed from a snare. Luke stomped the flames that flickered to life on the dry grass, sending dust over the boots he’d polished for tonight’s special occasion. No point chasing Jack now. She was long gone, and besides, he knew where to find her when the dust settled. Swiping the tops of his boots on the back of his pants leg, Luke heaved a sigh. Rachel didn’t need this, but they’d have to talk about Jack’s latest antic. She was going to have to face the facts about her ornery child before someone got hurt.
Fifteen minutes later, after taking a spin around the outskirts of town to make sure all was in order, Luke sat with his cousins on the steps in front of his office. He cut a large bite of golden crust and tender apple, shoved it in his mouth, and licked the cinnamon and sugar from his fork. “Rachel sure does make good pie.”
“Too bad she can’t control that kid of hers as well as she can cook,” Garrett said.
“I’m tellin’ you, Luke, you ought to marry her before Rand does; then you could eat all the pie you want.” Mark’s brown eyes flickered with amusement.
Luke nearly choked on his final bite. “You know I can’t do that.”
“All that was a long time ago, cuz.” Garrett sipped a cup of coffee.
“Maybe so, but after the woman you love betrays you, a man thinks long and hard before risking his heart again.”
“Then maybe you should consider marrying someone else. Have you thought about that?”
Luke stared at his cousins, wishing they’d pick another topic of conversation. “Maybe you should take your own advice.”
Garrett grinned wide. “Maybe I will.”
Luke sobered. He was ready to marry and start a family, but so far, no woman had been able to sear Rachel from his heart. Maybe one of these days someone would. “I guess I’d marry if the right woman came along.”
Finished with his own pie, Mark reached over and ran his forefinger along the edge of Luke’s plate, then poked it in his mouth. “Rachel sure knows how to cook. If you’re not interested in her, maybe I’ll see if I can turn her head away from that Kessler guy.”
“That’s not funny, Mark.” Luke cast a sidelong glare to his right.
“You said yourself that you’re no longer interested in her. What’s wrong with me pursuing her?”
Garrett straightened, flicking a beetle off his brown vest. “Rachel’s free to allow any man she wants to come courting.” He looked past Luke to Mark. “But why would you want to marry her? She’s got that pain-in-the-neck kid.”
“Jack’s not so bad. She just needs some guidance,” Luke offered.
“But whoever married Rachel would never have to worry about food, and she is easy on the eyes.” Mark grinned, an ornery gleam in his blue gaze that set Luke on edge. “She could do lots worse than me.”
Having heard enough of his cousins’ foolishness, Luke stood and walked toward the table where Rachel was again serving pies. He could no longer trust her with his heart, but how could he explain this fierce need to protect her, to be near her, when he didn’t understand it him
self? She glanced up and smiled, making his pulse gallop.
“Care for another slice? It is your birthday, after all.”
He handed her his dirty plate. “No thanks. I’m good.”
“Are you enjoying your party?”
Luke shrugged. “I guess so.”
“It’s nice having you back in town.”
He shoved his hands in his back pockets, not knowing what to say to her now that he had her to himself. “Good to be back.”
“Well, I hope you have a good time tonight.”
Luke nodded, and Rachel’s smile dipped as he turned back toward his office. Maybe returning to Lookout hadn’t been such a grand idea. Why couldn’t he get his head and heart to line up together? A part of him still cared for Rachel, but he would never again trust her with his heart. He’d done that once, and she’d tromped on it. His heart wouldn’t survive if she did it again.
“You need a wife,” Mark said as Luke approached him.
“Quit saying that.”
“Maybe we’ll just have to find one for you.” Garrett chuckled and bumped his brother.
“No thanks,” Luke called over his shoulder as he walked past them. Max trotted out of the jail and took a place beside Luke as he strode back to the bank to make sure the fire was still out. He returned to watching his town, hoping his hooligan cousins weren’t planning another one of the many practical jokes they’d pulled most of their lives. But he had a bad feeling in his gut, as though he’d drunk soured milk. Those two were up to something; he could smell it.
***
Mrs. Fairland sat in the corner, listening to the first and second graders read. Jack glanced back at her list of spelling words. She should be studying them, but worry plagued her like a bad case of influenza. She took a deep breath and peered over her shoulder at Butch Laird. Even from across the room, she could smell the filthy scent of the Laird’s pig farm. The thirteen-year-old stood nearly six feet tall and glared back at her with squinty black eyes. He pointed his finger like a gun and pretended to shoot her.
Jack spun back around in her desk, stuck in regret as thick as Texas mud after three days of rain. She should have kept her mouth shut. Shouldn’t have yelled at Butch for picking on Jonesy at lunch. Shouldn’t have screamed, “If you cook Butch Lard, he turns to Butch Fat.”
She swallowed hard, tightly gripping the top of her desk, remembering how he glared at her and said his name was Laird not Lard. What had possessed her to do such a thing? What would he do to her?
He was between her and the door, or she’d light out the first chance she got. Maybe she could find some way to dawdle until he headed home. Tell the teacher she needed help with her schoolwork. But that left almost as sour a taste in her mouth as the thought of fighting Butch had.
Maybe her ma was right. Maybe she should think before she spoke. But her words always came flying out before she even thought about them. She hated Butch and couldn’t help taking up for her friend. She pressed down on her knees to make them quit wobbling.
Jonesy looked at her from his seat across the aisle. His eye had nearly swollen shut. Mrs. Fairland had almost sent him home for fighting, but after Ricky and Jack’s explanation of how Butch had started it, she’d let him stay. Everyone knew Mrs. Fairland was afraid of Butch, which was why she didn’t send him home. Too bad she hadn’t, and a fat lot of help the teacher would be if Butch jumped Jack after school.
Lifting her head to peer out the window, Jack tried to gauge how far it was from the school to her home. If only the jail was closer. Luke would save her.
Mrs. Fairland stood. “Very good, children. Practice reading the next three pages at home tonight, and we’ll go over them in class tomorrow.”
The four youngsters from the reading group scurried back to their desks and sat down.
At the front of the class, Mrs. Fairland looked pretty in her gold calico dress, even after a full day of school. “All right, students. We’ve had a good day of learning.”
Jack glanced at the door and scooted to the edge of her chair. If she jumped over the desk to her right, she just might make it out the door and get away.
“Make sure you study your spelling words. The test will be before lunch on Friday, as usual.” Mrs. Fairland’s gaze traveled around the class, a pleasant smile lighting her pretty face.
Jack slid farther off the seat until her leg was halfway across the aisle. The other kids looked at her, but she knew most were used to her odd ways.
“Class dismissed.”
Like a fire had been lit under her backside, Jack blasted off the seat and crawled across the top of Amanda Moore’s desk, leaving the girl wide-eyed and mouth gaping. Jack raced for the door, fumbled with the knob, and yanked it open. Thudding like a stampede of Brahma bulls echoed behind her.
She bolted down the steps, heart thundering. Just as she leapt over the last step, someone snagged the back of her dress. It ripped and gagged her throat where it pulled taut.
“You didn’t think ya was gettin’ away from me that easy, did ya?”
Jack sucked in air and kicked her feet. Butch tucked her under his arm and lumbered around the back of the school toward the barn. Eyes blurring and throat aching from yelling, Jack kicked hard, trying to trip the big boy.
The children shouted behind her, but she couldn’t tell who they were rooting for. Suddenly, Ricky stood in front of Butch, fists lifted. “You let her go. She’s just a kid. A dumb girl, no less.”
Ricky thought she was just a dumb girl? The pain of her friend’s words took the fight out of her, and she went limp.
“Out of my way, Peewee.” Butch shoved Ricky aside like he was nothing more than an empty gunny sack.
“Ahhh...” Someone who sounded like a wild Indian charged them from behind. The force of the body colliding with Butch knocked Jack free. She fell to the ground, trying hard to catch her breath, and gazed up at the clear blue sky.
Her school friends stood around them in a circle, yelling hard. “Fight! Fight!”
“Children, stop this nonsense.” Mrs. Fairland stood beside the group of onlookers as if she was afraid to move closer. “Stop that fighting right this minute.”
Jack sat up. Ricky, Jonesy, and the Peterson twins were punching it out with Butch. Nobody liked the big, smelly bully, and that included her. Jack jumped up, righted her dress, took a running start, and latched onto Butch’s back. She wrapped her arms around his neck and held on for all she was worth, holding her breath so as not to smell him.
Butch swung sideways, shoved the twins backward, then swung the other way. Green trees blurred into the white schoolhouse. Arms flew toward Butch as the younger boys rallied. He clawed at Jack’s fingers, loosening them, then suddenly a fist collided with her eye, jerking her head backward with a snap.
Jack released her hold and felt herself falling. The screaming and yelling faded as she tumbled into a pit of black.
***
A brightness behind Jack’s eyelids intruded into the black realm, pulling her from the dark pit of nothingness. She slammed into a wall of pain, radiating from her forehead over her eye and cheek. Jack froze. Moving caused pain.
She relaxed into the softness of a bed—her bed, if the delicious smells coming from the kitchen were any indication.
“This is all your fault.”
The venom in her mother’s voice took her by surprise. She lifted the lid of her uninjured eye and blinked to bring the room into focus. Luke stood just inside the door of the bedroom Jack shared with her mother, his arms crossed and his face scowling.
“How? What did I do to cause this?” he asked.
Her mother stepped forward. “You taught my daughter how to fight, didn’t you?”
“What? No!” Luke lifted his hands as if surrendering.
Jack watched them. Whenever Luke came around, there was either a spark of light in her mother’s eyes that wasn’t normally there, or else the opposite—she seemed sad. How come Luke caused these reactions in her mother whe
n no other man had? Dare she hope that maybe one day Luke could become her new pa? She’d take him any day over that rancher who didn’t have the sense to stop calling on her ma. Did she even want another pa?
At least Luke wouldn’t be mean like her real pa had been.
“I did not teach Jack to fight. I promise, Rachel.”
That was another thing. Right from the start, they’d called each other by their first names, but whenever she asked about Luke, her mother only said he was someone she grew up with. Jack opened her eye a speck farther to see better.
Her mother scooted up close, wagging a finger in the marshal’s face. “You must have done something. Just look at her! Why, she’ll have a black eye for weeks.”
Luke’s gaze skimmed across the room to her. He looked sad and angry at the same time.
“Ah, ah, it’s not nice to eavesdrop, young lady.” The doctor leaned over the bed, and his face blurred as he moved in close and peered down at her. “It’s good to see you coming to.”
“Coming to what?” Jack asked.
Ma gasped and hurried to the other side of the bed. She sat down and clutched Jack’s hand. “Jacqueline, oh, my baby, you gave me such a scare.”
Jack stared up at Luke, who moved to the edge of the bed. She rolled her good eye, even though it hurt, and a smile pulled up one side of his mouth, though he still looked concerned.
“How do you feel?” Her mother laid the back of her hand over Jack’s forehead. “Are you in much pain?”
“Luke didn’t teach me to fight, Mama.”
Her mother glanced up at the marshal but didn’t seem convinced.
“Honestly.” Jack squeezed her mother’s hand. “I asked him to, but he said it wasn’t a good idea because I might get hurt.”
“Well, it’s good to know he has some sense.” Her ma looked as if it pained her to say those words.
“If ’n he had taught me, maybe I wouldn’t of gotten punched like I did.”
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