Second Chance Bride

by Jane Myers Perrine

  He turned back to Annie and shook his head. “I’m too old to play games like this. That’s what you can tell her.”

  “You can tell her yourself, but I don’t think you will. It seems she’s finally breaking down your resistance.”

  “I’m hardly any young woman’s dream man. I’m old and used up and ugly.” He touched the scar for an instant.

  “Sheriff, you are far from ugly. Clearly Amanda thinks you are the handsomest man in Trail’s End.”

  He grinned for a second at her reply. “Certainly you have to admit I’m hardly the stuff a young woman’s dreams are made of.”

  “One young woman seems to believe you are, Sheriff.”

  He stared at Annie for a moment, and then mounted his horse and left without a reply. Annie could hardly wait for Valentine’s Day.

  Annie awakened to knocking on the door of the schoolhouse and shook her head. She must have fallen asleep at her desk. It was late at night and the sound startled her. Who on earth could it be?

  “Matilda?”

  It sounded like Mr. Sullivan. Why would he be here? She stood and started toward the door in the flickering light of the oil lamp.

  “It’s John Sullivan.”

  She opened the door. “Hello, John.” She smiled at the sight of him. “Welcome back. Is everything all right? Is there an emergency?”

  “I’m sorry to bother you.” He looked at her, taking in her hair, which she knew must be standing up at odd angles, and her face, which probably had deep marks on her cheek from the edges of her books.

  She put her hands up in an effort to tidy the mess, but he took them in his grasp and held them.

  “I shouldn’t be here, but I’ve missed you.” He smiled.

  She couldn’t help but smile back. Then she yawned.

  “Were you studying?”

  “Until I fell asleep. Where have you been? Elizabeth has been back in school for days.”

  “I’ve been away on business. When we returned from St. Louis, I received a telegram that I was needed in Austin to deal with a legal matter about the boundaries of the ranch.” He stopped and studied her face. After half a minute, he continued. “I brought Elizabeth home, then took a coach that was leaving for the capital immediately. It all happened so quickly, I didn’t have a chance to tell you. I feared writing another letter would cause gossip and speculation.”

  “Boss, you ready to go?” Duffy called from the shadows. “I’m an old man and getting cold.”

  “Duffy picked me up in town. The stage arrived late.”

  She nodded. “Are you all right? Is someone sick?”

  “No.” He continued to scrutinize her. “I wanted to see you. That’s all. It’s been so long.”

  She could hear the affection in his voice. As usual, she didn’t know how to respond.

  “I’m attempting to guard your reputation, although it would be done better if I hadn’t come by.” He laughed softly. “El viejo has never been a chaperone before. But if anyone finds out I’ve visited you this late, he can say that nothing improper happened.”

  “But he might tell—”

  “No, Duffy knows better than that.” He gazed at her for a few moments more without speaking. “I just wanted to see you,” he whispered. “Only for a minute, but I had to see you. I’ve missed you.” He touched her cheek softly. “Good night, my dear.”

  “Good night, John.”

  “Boss, I’m really…”

  He reluctantly dropped her hand before he headed down the steps and toward the surrey on the other side of the grove of trees.

  What had just happened? And where had the usually solemn, upright John Matthew Sullivan gone? She smiled. She liked the lighthearted John she’d met before. Perhaps, she’d find a way to spend more time with him.

  On Thursday afternoon, both Miguel and Wilber worked in the schoolroom.

  “Very well done,” Annie told Miguel as he copied his spelling words. Lucia smiled. She was learning a great deal while she watched her son.

  “Miss Cunningham.” Wilber closed his science book and put it on the desk. “I’m going to have to leave now. My brothers and I won’t be back the rest of the week.” He stood, carried the book to the shelf and paused by her desk, his large frame towering over her.

  “Why not, Wilber?” She got to her feet.

  Wilber shrugged. “We have to dig a new well for the livestock. The old one dried up.” He shook his head. “If we don’t get some rain soon, we’re going to lose crops and livestock. But what really scares us is the possibility of prairie fires.”

  “But it’s only February, Wilber. Surely we’ll have some rain soon.”

  “The drought started in May, ma’am. It’s going to take a lot of rain to make any difference.” He turned and headed toward the back door.

  “Do you want to take a book with you?” she asked.

  “No, but thank you. I won’t have time. I’ll miss being here.”

  “We’ll miss you, too, Wilber.” After Wilber left, Lucia rose. “We need to go, mi hijo, my son.”

  “Please, no, Mamá. I’m in the middle of answering questions about a story.” He kept his eyes on the book.

  “This drought,” Annie said. “It’s really bad?”

  Lucia nodded. “We had another like it six years ago. Mr. Sullivan worries. Up north, they’re getting some rain so the streams are running fairly well. As long as that keeps up, the cattle will be fine. But the crops suffer, and the grass and shrubs that feed the cattle, and the dry trees—all that could go up in flames any minute.”

  “Hello?” John stood in the door of the school. “A word, please?” His gaze settled on Miguel and Lucia.

  “Mr. Sullivan,” Lucia said, curtsying. “Come along, Miguel.” She took her son’s hand and hurried him away.

  With the exception of church and evening meetings, Annie hadn’t seen John since he’d come by that late evening in January. She didn’t understand his inconsistent courting—was this how it was done?

  Annie stood next to her desk. “Hello, John.” He had obviously assumed his identity as member of the school board, serious and solemn. His expression worried her.

  He frowned and said, “I have something serious I need to talk to you about.”

  She nodded.

  “I’d heard something but I didn’t know if it were true. But now…you’re teaching Miguel?”

  “Yes. Lucia comes to chaperone while Wilber is getting his extra lessons. Miguel comes with her.”

  “Matilda, you were not hired by the school board to give Wilber extra work or to teach Miguel.”

  “I don’t mind. Wilber’s making up lessons he’s missed because he helps his father. He’s so smart. I wish he could go to high school. He’d be a wonderful teacher.”

  “As you know, such a future is not possible, but Wilber is not the problem we need to discuss.”

  “What is the problem?” She thought for a moment. “Certainly you can’t mean Miguel? You believe I shouldn’t teach Miguel?”

  “Not at all. I wish every child in the county could afford to come to school. I’d like to have to build a bigger school and hire another teacher. My dream is to have this school overrun with the children of the community—all the children.”

  “John, that’s wonderful. That’s my dream, too.”

  “Farley and I are concerned about the children who can’t afford tuition, or who have to work to help their families. We’re discussing solutions.”

  “I should have known you would do all that,” she said.

  “I support your teaching Miguel, but I have to pass on some concerns of the community. There are those who believe Miguel should not be in school.”

  “Why not? Because he’s Mexican?”

  “A few people have complained.”

  “I’m paid to teach from seven-thirty to two-thirty for two terms of three months each. Isn’t that correct?”

  He nodded.

  “Who I teach the other hours of the day is n
obody else’s business.”

  “You don’t have to argue with me.” He held his hand up as if deflecting her barely concealed anger. “But some members of the community would argue that you teach in a building owned by the board. As such it is the concern of the school board.”

  She sat down, so sickened by the reminder of the prejudice she’d fought all her life that her stomach churned. She did not want Miguel to go through that. “Does the school board want me to stop teaching Miguel?” she asked calmly, wanting to avoid a confrontation if possible. “Do you expect me to stop teaching Miguel?” she asked, her voice soft as she reminded herself that she needed John’s support to keep her position.

  “No. I’m just telling you what a few people have told me.”

  She stood, leaning on the desk to steady herself. “John, I’m a teacher. I’m supposed to teach. It’s very much like a call from God.” She stopped, amazed at her words. She’d never considered that before, but it felt right and true. “It truly is a call from God. If I continue to teach Miguel, will I be fired?”

  “No, I just felt you needed to know that there has been discussion.”

  “Will the school board support me?”

  “I’m not sure. But I do, after all, have some influence.”

  “I must teach him, even if the school board threatens to fire me.” Those were the hardest words she’d ever spoken.

  “Matilda, I will try to make sure the school board supports you. If there are consequences, I’ll do my best to shield you.”

  “Thank you.” She put her hand on her chest and felt her heart beating. “I was so frightened,” she whispered.

  “And yet you fought for Miguel.”

  Yes, she had, and the fact astonished her. She’d never stood up for herself before, but she’d found the strength to stand up for Miguel. Where had it come from?

  But she knew. The courage came from God, who wanted her to teach. How she’d arrived here at this school, she didn’t understand. She didn’t believe God killed one woman so another would become a teacher. She just knew that she’d found God and been able to use the twists and turns of life to discover where she could and should serve.

  She sat down, her legs no longer able to support her after the confrontation.

  “Matilda, are you ill?” John knelt next to her chair.

  Although she felt cold all over, when she put her hand on her cheek, it was hot. The physical reaction overwhelmed her because conflict scared her, and yet she had done it. Thank You, God. After several deep breaths, her head had stopped spinning and her heart had calmed down.

  “I’m fine.” And she was. “Discussing this with you wasn’t easy for me.”

  “May I tell you how much I respect you for taking that stand?” He took her hand. “I can see that it was not easy for you.”

  For a moment, his eyes caressed her face. “May I also explain why I have not come to see you?” He settled on a bench. “An emergency came up, one I thought I’d settled before. I had to go out of town again.” He shook his head. “There’s something strange going on with that parcel of land. A question of ownership. That’s why I had to go to Austin again.”

  “Did it turn out as you wanted?”

  “It took longer than I would have expected, but I hope this time it has been resolved.” He smiled. “And now I’m home.”

  His voice and his words suggested she was an important part of his pleasure in being home.

  “When I’m away, I miss you.” He shook his head. “I’ve never understood men who could not control their emotions, but now I do. I didn’t mean to care for you, Matilda—in fact, I fought it.” He gave an odd little laugh. “Now I find myself in an uncomfortable situation by wishing to spend time with you but not wanting to place your reputation in peril.”

  She tilted her head in an effort to understand where his thoughts had taken him.

  “If I come down to the schoolhouse too often, even as isolated as it is, people will notice and talk.” He shook his head. “I need to consider your circumstances, both how to court you and how to protect you.”

  “Can that be done?”

  “I don’t know, but I’ll think about it. Please be assured that your reputation is safe with me, that I’ll do nothing—like that foolish visit the other evening when I could not stay away from you—without due consideration.”

  He strode toward the door but turned when he got there. For a moment, he gazed at her as if he held her face tenderly in his hands and caressed it, as if he kissed her gently, as if he softly touched her lips with his finger.

  And then he left, closing the door behind him. She heard him descend the steps, mount his horse and ride off, but even when she no longer heard the sound of hoofbeats, she still felt the phantom touch of his hand lightly stroking her face and the whisper of his breath against her cheek.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Amanda stood outside the door to the sheriff’s office feeling a little foolish.

  If the sheriff did not fall at her feet, if he didn’t swear undying love—although she couldn’t imagine in a hundred years that he would—she’d stop chasing him. Taking a deep breath, Amanda opened the door and walked inside. The sheriff sat at his desk working on some papers. Although he barely even glanced up at her, his scowl showed he wasn’t pleased to see her.

  Nevertheless, she squared her shoulders. “Good morning, Sheriff Bennett.”

  “Mornin’, Miss Hanson.” He nodded.

  Why was she doing this when she knew he’d reject her? For a moment, she considered turning around, going home and giving up. But he looked up at her and that rugged face and level stare made her heart flutter.

  “How can I help you, Miss Hanson?” His voice was polite but disinterested.

  “Happy Valentine’s Day.” She took off her cape to reveal a lacy white dress trimmed in pink feather hearts.

  For a moment, his grim expression softened as he drank in the sight before him. His eyes moved from the pink roses twined in her hair all the way down the frilly dress to her white shoes tied with pink ribbons.

  “Very, very pretty, Miss Hanson. I guess you’re looking to flirt with some handsome young man. Don’t have any here.”

  “No, Sheriff, I’m here to charm you.”

  He laughed and went back to reading the papers on the desk.

  That’s exactly what she’d predicted he’d do, but if the man thought he could get away from her so easily, he didn’t know Amanda Hanson at all. As fast as dry lightning could start a blaze on the prairie, Amanda opened his desk drawer and pulled out his keys. Once she had her prize, she ran into a cell and slammed the door behind her. She put her hand through the bars and locked the door before she pranced to the hard bench next to the wall and sat down. Victory!

  Stunned, the sheriff didn’t move at first. Then he stood and ambled toward the cell. “What do you think you’re doing, Miss Hanson?”

  “Sheriff Bennett, you have ignored me since you came here a year ago.” She stood and walked to the cell door. “I have tried every flirtatious trick I know to get you to notice me. You refused.”

  “You’re wrong. I noticed every one. I just didn’t fall for any of them.”

  She stamped her foot. “Oh, you’re such a difficult man.” She threw herself on the bench again. “I decided to lock myself up in your jail until you give in and court me.”

  “Is this the most romantic scheme you could come up with?” A smile tickled his lips.

  “I’ve used up all the romantic schemes. I’m desperate now.”

  “Because you have found the one man in Texas who refuses to fall in love with you.”

  “You make me sound silly.”

  He raised an eyebrow in response.

  “I…” She turned away. “I’m not playing now. This started as a game, but I discover I like you, very much.”

  “Why? Because I’m such a handsome man? Valiant and courageous.”

  She stood, closed the space between them and placed eac
h hand on a bar. “As sheriff, of course you are valiant and courageous, as well as tough and rugged, which I find—much to my surprise, I must tell you—very attractive.”

  “I’m older than you, Miss Hanson, years older. I’ve lived a hard life and have nothing to offer a spoiled little girl.”

  “Now, see, if you didn’t care about me, you wouldn’t call me a spoiled little girl. You use that to discourage me.” She smiled. “I don’t discourage easily, and, although my father has given me everything I want, that does not make me spoiled.”

  “I’m forty years old. Double your age. More than twenty years of my life were spent as a hired gun. Not the kind of background a loving father would choose for his darling daughter’s husband.”

  “Sheriff.” She held his glance in hers. “Your attempts to reason your way out of this tête-à-tête convince me even more that you do care about me.”

  With that, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his key ring.

  She blinked. “What is that?”

  “This would be a pretty poor jail if we had only one set of keys, wouldn’t it?” He stuck the key in the lock and opened the door. “Miss Hanson, why don’t you go home so I can work?”

  “No.” Haughtily, she sat down on the bench. “I don’t need to lock myself up. I’ll stay in here even with the door wide-open.”

  “No, you cannot. This is my jail.” The sheriff strode into the cell, picked her up and attempted to carry her out. He had not considered the vast petticoats under her dress or her strength. Every time he started through the cell door, she used her hands or her legs to stay inside while her ruffles covered his face so he couldn’t see where he was going.

  After a few minutes, sweat rolled down his body and pink feathers stuck to his neck and face. “You are harder to rope than an angry heifer and more trouble than an unbroken colt.”

  He tried a few more times before admitting defeat. “All right,” he finally said. “You can stay here.” He dumped her on the bench, picked up both sets of keys, left the cell and locked it behind him.