by Yvonne Jocks
—as man to woman and not pupil to teacher. Once you get to know me—"
Audra slapped him.
Her open palm made such a loud, cracking noise that people on the street stopped to look.
Jerome's head turned sharply. His eyes widened over the red handprint that almost immediately appeared, then darkened, across his cheek.
“How dare you?” she demanded—and she did not bother to lower her voice either.
Jerome glanced, embarrassed, toward the people whose attention she'd caught, then tried to smile at her. His smile looked wan, artificial. “Now, Audra—”
She swung at him again, but he caught her wrist in his bigger, stronger hand. “Now Audra,” he repeated, his tone more warning than conciliatory. “Stop that.”
“Let goof me!”
He widened his eyes at her and hissed through his teeth, “Folks are watching!”
Good! She'd already traveled too far to save her reputation, but she had no intention of risking her safety, too, just to avoid embarrassing herself, much less him.
“You have no leave to address me by my first name, young man!” she scolded, tugging at her hand.
At the young man, he closed his fist tighter. It began to hurt. "You certainly had no right to presume upon my good nature to lure me away from home. And you have no right at all to
manhandle me. Let go!"
Bystanders approached, both from the depot and from across the wide dirt road. "You all right, ma'am?“ called a cowboy. A farmer approached from another direction. ”Maybe you ought to let the lady be ..."
And while they had Jerome distracted, Audra pulled a long pin out of her hat and stabbed him in the arm. The ugly sensation of steel piercing skin, then muscle, made her cry out at the same time he did—but Jerome certainly did let go fast.
“Dammit! What the hell do you think you're doing!”
Something she should have done to Peter Connors several meetings before she had ever been so foolish as to ride in a buggy with him. “I should have you arrested!”
Jerome's voice spiraled upward. “What did I do? Damn it, that hurt!”
The cowboy, stepping neatly between them, said, “Looks like you're accosting a lady.”
“And there are laws against public swearing in this town!” added a businessman with a waxed mustache and bowler hat.
As the danger waned, Audra's strength fol owed. She wouldn't get home in time. A second
scandal would fol ow her first.
A fourth man, wearing a deputy's star, appeared. "Public swearing, is it? Would you like us to press charges, ma'am?"
Somehow she kept her chin up, her dignity about her. “Yes, please.”
“Miss Garrison!” As they dragged Jerome away, he twisted about to stare plaintively toward her, clearly disbelieving that she would let so terrible a thing happen. What did he think he was doing
—had done—to her? Nobody would hang a boy for cursing; likely they wouldn't hold him for long, and by then she would find a way to get word to his parents.
She heard Jerome protesting, “But she's my teacher!”
Someone else said, “I don't reckon they pay her enough....”
And then she was ... well, perhaps not alone. Two remaining men hovered nearby, obviously as uncomfortable in this drama as was she. She smiled at them, said, 'Thank you," and somehow made her way back to Aunt Heddy's surrey—where she stopped beside a tall wheel.
The wide street of Grapevine, similar in size to her hometown of Sheridan but alien as well, bustled along beside her. She supposed she ought to go home now. But it would not do much good. She'd been fortunate in many ways today. She knew how to appear and behave like the lady she was, so that respectable gentlemen came to her aid, just as she knew her father or brother would do for any other lady in such a situation. She had not allowed Jerome to manhandle or manipulate her.
But she was having difficulty counting her blessings.
Two scandals, two! And after she'd denied herself and Jack so many opportunities to do something truly worthy of scandal.
She heard another horse approaching at full gal op, but only hoped its wild rider wouldn't run her down; she had neither the strength nor inclination to step out of the way. To her surprise the animal slowed, then stopped beside her. Leather creaked; boots thudded to the ground.
“Audra! Are you all right?”
Jack? She turned slowly, disbelieving the miraculous possibility—but it was him. Winded and dusty and handsome and concerned, but it was her Jack, come to her rescue.
He took one look at her face and his own fell. “Oh, darlin— I'm too late, aren't I?”
At which concern the miseries and betrayals and fears of her day broke past the last of her defenses and shuddered through her whole body, seared her eyes, opened her mouth in a silent cry that ended against Jack's shoulder as he gathered her, hard, against him. She could no longer fight the tears that came then, wasn't sure she wanted to. Jack's comfort, Jack's strength, Jack's sympathy felt so right that even the shredding, wet ugliness of her grief soothed her somehow. It tore out of her in great, gasping, wordless sobs—not just Jerome's betrayal, but Aunt Heddy's suspicions, Peter Connor's treachery, her miserable homesickness. Safe with Jack—safe to be vulnerable, homely, real—she let all of it gush onto his shoulder and into his loving embrace.
He held her, ran his hand up and down her spine, patted her shoulder. He rocked her against him, kissed her hair where her bonnet hung askew, made soothing, shushing noises. He did not seem to care that they were surely garnering as much attention as she and Jerome had earlier. He just stayed there for her and let her release every bit of it.
Only then, as her tears became gasps of exhaustion and then weary sniffles, did she hear what he was saying to her. “I'm sorry, darlin'. I'm so sorry. I should've gotten here faster ...”
Dragging in enough breath to actual y speak, she pulled back from his shoulder. “No!”
He blinked down at her, surprised, and she ducked her head so that he wouldn't see her runny nose, her swollen eyes. “You got here just in time,” she assured him thickly—and then, even if she was homely, she made herself face him. He deserved to know she spoke the truth. “Oh Jack, you came just when I needed you most. Thank you!”
He kissed her then, hard, and she tasted salt on his mouth—her own tears? Barely had his lips released hers, tingling, than she flushed at her own dishevelment. “Jack! I'm a mess!”
“Wel , then,” he murmured against her hair, his voice as thick as hers but without tears to excuse it,
“either blow your nose on my sleeve or use that handkerchief you carry.”
Oh! She ventured to reach into her coat pocket and, sure enough, found her handkerchief. She laughed—with distasteful results, which, she realized thankfully, she mostly hid behind white linen. Jack laughed too—almost as unevenly as she—and he helped hold her up, holding her against him, while she wiped her eyes, blew her nose, repaired herself as best she could on a public street.
A public street.
Mortified by the display she'd helped create, Audra backed a step out of Jack's arms, then said, "Sit with me in the surrey?"
“I would be honored.” He hitched Queen to the same post that held Boy and Buck and he gave her a hand up into the wagon, as if she'd not gotten here alone just fine. She liked that, once he climbed up, he sat with a proper distance between them.
When she proffered her hand, needing him even now that the emergency had passed, he took it readily enough. He had such tender hands himself, strong and soft at the same time. She wished she could ask him to never let go.
“You came,” she marveled, looking at their joined hands rather than braving his face. “How did you know?”
“Claudine confessed all,” he assured her. “And in case you're foolish enough to still worry about that little she-devil's safety, she's just fine. So far.”
She was foolish enough to worry, and smiled grateful y that he knew her so we
ll. Then she admitted, “I won't get home by nightfall .”
“Not with this team you won't,” he agreed. “But you'd raise your odds considerably if you took the Queen of Hearts.”
“Your horse?” Now she did look up at him. The thought, brilliant and daring both, had not occurred to her once. He was still taking care of her, wasn't he? Her chivalrous gambler.
He grinned at her. “She's the only one I can in good conscience offer, darlin'.”
She laughed, longing to kiss him again ... but they were on a public street. And Grapevine's citizens had defended her when needed. She would not repay them by setting a poor example.
Not again, anyway.
As for what she would like to do in private . . . She ducked her head, watching their hands.
“She's a fine example of horseflesh,” Jack reassured her, massaging her fingers. "Seems to me that, if you leave now, you might make it before that reverend of yours comes a'calling. I'll drive this team of yours back at a pace more suited to their years. With a waning moon and more than a little luck, folks won't recognize the horses or myself—but if anyone comes checking for your surrey in the morning, it'll be right where it should. Is it a plan?"
“It is a wonderful plan,” she assured him, probably beaming like a fool and not even caring. She had a chance to escape this horrible, marvelous, wild day unscathed—and all because of a man the rules insisted she avoid!
“You can ride, can't you?” asked Jack, not releasing her hand.
“I'm a rancher's daughter. Of course I can ride.”
“Astride?”
“We didn't get sidesaddles until we turned twelve.” Sitting here beside him, she longed to tel him more about her family, her home, her sisters. She wanted him to know everything she cherished, to know her better, and she wanted to know all about him.
But she also wanted to get home before sunset, and the sun crept farther west even now.
When she shifted to leave the carriage, Jack gestured for her to wait, then jumped down himself and came around. When he didn't release her hand once she was down, she did not protest.
“What happened to the boy?” he asked, as if savoring these last few minutes himself.
That made her smile, too, with unladylike pride. "I slapped him twice, and then I stabbed him with a hat pin, and then he got arrested for swearing."
Jack's delighted laugh encouraged another of her own. "Would you mind if I posted his bond? He ought to learn a few lessons I doubt you or his folks can teach him so well as I."
She hesitated, both pleased that he would defend her honor and concerned. Jerome was younger than Jack. “You won't hurt him too badly, will you?”
“Not as badly as he deserves.” The dark way he said it, as if drawing and quartering would not be as bad as Jerome deserved, hardly comforted her, so she waited. "You'll see him at church tomorrow,“ Jack assured her, correctly reading her concerns. ”That'll give you a chance to make sure he's still walking. That, and getting him home to his folks before he worries them into asking questions, is all I promise."
She thought: I love you, Jack Harwood. And she did, with every bit of her, every thrum of her pulse. If she told him now, frightened him, it would hardly show her gratitude. And if it did not frighten him, he might want to kiss her again, right here on the street.
She knew where he'd be later tonight, where they'd have more privacy than Main Street. So instead of admitting her love out loud, she said, “You are wonderful. Thank you.”
“You're wonderful,” he corrected. “And you are more than welcome.”
“Be careful,” she pleaded, reaching up to straighten his coat collar. She'd spoiled his coat again.
Thank heavens this man's fine clothes did not get damaged when they got wet.
He looked at her oddly, as if the gesture held more significance than she'd meant. But she could ask about that later, too. “You be careful,” he cautioned. “Go the back way into town, behind the Parkers' farm, and you might just get in without folks seeing you.”
She nodded—then fell into him again, holding him tightly memorizing the feel of him, right down to the imprint of his buttons against her chest. She did not want to leave.
But Jack pushed her gently back from her. “You'd best scat,” he insisted. “I'd hate to think I ran that mare as hard as I did and you didn't get home in time.”
I love you, Jack. She could barely hold it in—but she did. She readjusted the stirrups on his saddle to fit her own leg length, then lifted her dainty, button-up shoe into the left stirrup and, even after months away, swung easily onto the mare. She started to adjust her cape to better cover the petticoats and stockinged calves displayed by her unladylike seating—but when she saw how Jack was looking at her leg, she so wanted to let him that she pretended not to notice.
It made her feel wonderful y naughty—yet still deliciously safe.
“Soon,” she promised, extending a hand which—once he noticed it past her leg—he took.
“Soon, darling,” he agreed, and withdrew his fingers with obvious reluctance.
Audra turned Queen around, then rode south, out of town. She waited until the mare had walked almost a mile before urging her into a trot. Once Queen found her gait, they cantered.
She had a race to run.
Jerome looked so pitiable, locked up in a strange city, that Jack didn't have the heart to beat the boy nearly as badly as he'd planned. Which was not to say that, once they got out of town, he didn't make his point in a way that men had always understood. But it felt more necessary than satisfactory now.
By the time they'd approached Candon, respectable folks had gone to sleep—which was as he'd planned it. He let Jerome walk back to his parents' farm from the main road. Then, before he'd reached the town proper, Jack snuffed the carriage lamps, climbed down, and led the team slowly the rest of the way to Heddy Cribb's barn. He heard no neighbors cal out in the night, saw no lights lit. As he pulled the barn doors open, then led the team—surrey and all —into its shadows—
he suspected that he'd arrived unobserved.
He was almost right. He'd just bolted the doors when a hushed voice said, “Jack?”
He turned, searching the darkness for a woman he'd recognize anywhere. “Audra?”
“Here—I'll light a lamp.” In only a moment, a flame burst into the full brightness of an oil lamp, which she hung on the appropriate hook.
God, but she was beautiful. She looked tousled and vulnerable, her calico dress wrinkled as if she'd just woken up, and all the heady, foolish feelings he'd had for her this afternoon, holding her and kissing her and wishing they could be more to each other, all but swamped him.
“Isn't it late for you, darlin'?” he asked, moving to work out how to extract the poor team from the intricate bondage of a carriage harness.
“Yes,” agreed Audra, stepping to their off side and starting to unhitch the horses in such a way that he could repeat her motions on the near side, each one after her. “But not too late.”
Was it his imagination, or did she say that second part as if she meant something more than the obvious? Jack figured he must just be overtired. This was sweet, innocent Audra.
“Did you make it in time? Let me get that, darlin'.” He caught the weight of the surrey staves as she unhooked them from the harness.
“Just in time. Reverend Collins was glad to see that the three of us were safely home.”
“I imagine he'll make a fine alibi, if anyone mentions seeing you leaving town earlier today,” he noted, helping her with the buckles and the straps, then taking the weight of the collars to hang for himself.
“I imagine he will ,” she agreed. When he leaned around a gelding to see her, she flushed and looked down. But her eyes were bright. She must be nervous, alone in a stable with him this late at night.
Though he knew it was the best thing for her, he just couldn't bring himself to offer that she go in now. Instead they curried the horses, then put them into their s
tall , where she'd already forked hay and carried water. Jack watched her pet each gelding in turn, scratching behind one's big ears and finger-combing the other's forelock, whispering, “Thank you,” to each.
Then she came to him, and before he could stop himself he'd drawn her to him, bent over her innocent beauty, and kissed her. He wanted her to thank him, too, damn it.
She kissed him back in spades.
He'd half expected her to resist—she was a good girl, after all! At least until he coaxed her some more. Instead she opened her mouth to his almost immediately. When he teased his tongue into her sweet mouth, her own shyly met it, and she shuddered in his arms.
He probably shuddered in hers. Lordy, but she felt good. She smelled good, too, like soap and peaches—she and her friends must've had their Saturday-night baths—and a little like horses and hay. But she felt even better, velvety and warm and so pliable under his hands. He savored the cushion of her bosom against his chest, the involuntary tease of one of her thickly petticoated knees bumping against his. When she wrapped her slim arms over the back of his neck and
moaned soft, muffled pleasure at their mutual exploration of each other's mouths, his body responded fully and completely.
He hoped that, between her innocence and all those petticoats she wore, she wouldn't know just how his body was changing against hers, especially with her arching against him as she was. But he couldn't have stopped the change if he'd wanted to. Worse, he didn't want to.
He would never desire another woman as he did his innocent schoolmarm.
But she was his innocent schoolmarm. After too brief an ecstasy, Jack reluctantly drew back—at least enough to see her face. Her eyelids at half-mast, her lips parted and wet, her short, curling hair aflame in the lamplight, she looked sexier than he had ever imagined Audra could.
If he didn't get out of here soon, he risked doing something they'd both regret.
“Oh, darlin',” he said anyway. “Oh, Audra. I can't think of anything I'd like to do more than kiss you like that until the both of us are drunk with it.”
And Audra—innocent Audra—said, “Then do.”