Judith Stacy - The Heart Of A Hero

The soft, feminine voice caused Jess to jump and he looked up at the blond woman standing over his table; for a moment he imagined she could look straight through him and see what he really wanted. She was shapely, maybe twenty-three, and had a pretty smile.

“Jimmy likes the chicken.” She smiled down at him and tickled the boy’s chin. “You must be Cassie’s brother. I’m Kirby Sullivan. Welcome to Walker.”

She was the first person to utter those three words to him, and they sounded good. Jess got to his feet and introduced himself; he accepted her condolences when she offered her sorrow over his sister’s death.

“Jimmy used to stay with us while Cassie taught school. I live just down the road from the schoolhouse with my folks. We miss having Jimmy around.” Kirby fluffed the boy’s hair and he pulled away. “Nate told me you two used to be friends.”

“You know Nate Tompkins?”

“Sure. You ought to stop by and see him while you’re in town. He’s at the jail.”

Jess chuckled. “Jail, huh? That figures.”

Kirby smiled gently. “Nate’s the deputy sheriff.”

“Nate? The deputy? Well, damn....” Jess shook his head. “I guess a lot of things really have changed in Walker.”

“Yes, and no one more than my Nate.” An easy smile crossed her face. “So, what do you say? How about the chicken plate?”

“Sounds good.” Jess eased into his chair and watched as Kirby disappeared into the kitchen. How could a worthless bastard like Nate Tompkins have gotten a fine-looking woman like her? His belly heated up again.

Trying to distract his thoughts, Jess turned back to Jimmy. “So, you like chicken, huh?”

Jimmy ignored him and fiddled with the silverware.

“I’ll bet your mama used to make the best chicken in the state. Even when we were kids, she was a good cook.”

Jimmy folded his hands on the table and laid his head down.

Jess sighed. “Come on, Jimmy. Talk to me.”

The boy looked up suddenly and stuck out his tongue.

Stunned, he felt a laugh slip out. “Well, I guess that’s a start,” Jess said.

A few minutes later when the food was served, Jess ate hungrily, satisfying at least one of his suddenly pressing needs. The food tasted delicious, a far sight better than his own cooking. He finished off his own plate and the remains of Jimmy’s, plus a thick wedge of apple pie and two cups of coffee.

“You might want to bring Jimmy over to the church. My papa preaches there. We always have children’s Bible study on Thursday nights.” Kirby took away their plates. “Bring Maggie, too.”

Jess rocked back in his chair and patted his belly. “I’ll see—Holy Jesus!”

He surged from the chair, nearly knocking the dishes from Kirby’s tray. Maggie. He’d forgotten Maggie’s lunch pail this morning. He’d been in such a rush it had completely slipped his mind. And surely this time that Mrs. Wakefield would go straight to the school board.

Kirby gasped. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, nothing.” Jess pulled at his neck. “I just thought of something else I need. Could you box up some food? Chicken, bread, maybe?”

“Of course. Anything else?”

“No—yes.”

Jess drew in a deep breath. Yes, he needed something else, something that would appease a certain schoolmarm. And he knew exactly what it would be.

Chapter Three

Damn. He was too late.

A few children still sat at the benches, but most played in the schoolyard. Girls jumped rope while several boys shot marbles in the dirt. Other children ran squealing around the schoolhouse while a few older ones huddled under the shade of the elms. Jess clutched the box lunch as he crossed the schoolyard looking for Maggie. Finally he spotted her standing beside Mrs. Wakefield. Of course.

Jess pulled his Stetson lower and sucked in a deep breath. “Hi, honey. I brought you something special.”

“Uncle Jess!”

He gave her a hug and passed her the box. “I wanted to surprise you. Sorry I’m a little late. I didn’t think your teacher would have you eating so early.” He felt Sarah glare at him but he refused to look at her.

“Thanks, Uncle Jess.”

“I brought something for your teacher, too.” He pulled out a big, red apple and presented it to Sarah.

“Come on, Jimmy. You can eat with me.”

“There’s cookies in there. Enough for the both of you,” he called as Maggie headed for the tables at the side of the schoolhouse.

He watched the two children, determined not to acknowledge Sarah Wakefield standing three feet from him. She could stare at him until her eyes crossed, if that’s what she wanted to do.

The breeze shifted and a delicate scent tantalized his nose, winding its way inside him. His gaze came up quickly and settled on Sarah. Good God, was it her that smelled so sweet?

But that expression of hers wasn’t sweet at all. She didn’t buy the special meal excuse, not for a minute. And the apple hadn’t helped at all.

“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.”