Chapter Two
Amelia Drake propped her forehead in her hand and listened to the rain pummel the windows. It echoed across her empty schoolroom in Laona as she read a page in her teaching handbook—for the fourth time. To her increasing irritation, the words remained a jumble of nothingness. Between the noise of the storm and her wandering thoughts, she couldn’t concentrate on her work for a minute.
Amelia slapped the book closed and shoved away from the massive oak desk huddled in front of her like a mountain of secrets. She squeezed her eyes closed, but her imagination soared her heart ached with longing. She craved the love that had caused Miss Danby, the former schoolteacher, to toss away her teaching career and run off with Gordon Prues a poor furniture maker.
There would never be a Gordon Prues coming to rescue Amelia from the life of sameness and solitude she’d been living since replacing Miss Denby. Amelia would continue to spend her hours with her students, and when they went home to their families each evening, she would stay behind in a cold, empty schoolhouse feeling her youth ebbing away. Her own reckless actions had condemned her to this life of spinsterhood.
A violent crack of thunder shook the building and lightning illuminated the damp, musty-smelling room. She crossed to the window and rested her arms on the sill, gazing up at the angry evening sky, wishing she dared to step outside and feel the rain sting her skin, to feel free and alive for a few stolen minutes. But Philmore Bentley, president of the school board, and his nosy wife, Eva, lived next door. If they saw her outside after dark, she would be severely reprimanded.
Life as a teacher was painfully restrictive, but it was a virtuous, respectful position that she needed. For four years she had been trying to live within the board’s strict dictates, but her true nature bubbled and spit behind her facade like a volcano on the brink of erupting.
Thunder rolled overhead and the front door creaked open. She shook her head and turned away from the window. Closing the door was a lesson she’d failed to teach any of her students. With a resigned sigh, she headed toward the front of the building to close it.
The shadowy outline of a man suddenly filled the doorway.
Amelia stopped mid-step.
Runnels of rain slid off the wide shoulders of the man’s coat. He pushed the door closed against the wind, trapping her inside with him.
She stumbled backward, wondering if she could make it to the door of her apartment and lock it before he could grab her.
As if the man sensed her panic, he lifted the dripping hat off his head to reveal a handsome, familiar face. Stunned by Kyle Grayson’s formidable presence in her humble schoolroom, Amelia couldn’t fathom what would bring him here, in the pouring rain no less.
“You’ll need your wrap,” he said. “Ray Hawkins is coming with a carriage to take you to your parents’ house. Your father collapsed with chest pains an hour ago.”
Fear slammed through her chest so violently she couldn’t breathe.
“I’m sorry,” Kyle said softly, his voice filled with grief. “The doctor didn’t arrive in time.”
Her body turned hot and her ears rang, but the cry echoing in her mind never left her gaping mouth. Backing away from Kyle and the horror of his words, Amelia shook her head. It couldn’t be true. Not her father. He’d started the fire in the schoolroom for her just this morning. He’d laughed and kissed her cheek before leaving to start his day at the mill. Just like he did every Thursday morning.
“Jeb and Doc Finlay took him home to your mother,” Kyle said, his eyes dark, his expression filled with regret. “They’re sending Ray down with the carriage for you. I told them I’d ride ahead and make sure you’d be ready.”
Her father? He couldn’t be... he just... no!
“I’ll stay with you until Ray gets here.”
Amelia shook her head. An unstoppable cry squeezed from her throat and tears blurred her vision.
Kyle’s lips compressed and his nostrils flared, but his hard, unblinking gaze confirmed the truth.
“No... Oh, Kyle...” Amelia clapped her hands to her mouth as tears streamed over her fingers.
He caught her as she stumbled into his chest.
Sobbing, she shoved against him, trying to push him out the door. “Take me home.”
“Wait for the carriage. It’s storming.”
Was he insane? What did she care about a carriage when her father... when he... oh, dear... her mother needed her! And her father... her poor father...
She tore herself from his arms and bolted outside. Rain slapped her face and wind ripped her hair from its prim chignon, but she barely felt it as she ran to Kyle’s horse.
As she struggled to put her foot in the high stirrup, she heard the door to the schoolhouse slam shut. An instant later Kyle wrapped his strong hands around her waist. She gripped the saddle horn and hopped on one foot, frantically trying to hook her raised foot in the stirrup, but instead of lifting her onto the saddle, he tugged her back.
“Buck’s too skittish right now.”
She struggled against Kyle’s grip. “Release me!”
He held firm.
With an angry screech, she turned and slapped his wet face. The impact snapped his head back and stung her palm, but his look of shock didn’t stop her from reaching for the saddle horn again. She was going home, and she wasn’t waiting for a carriage.
The horse reared and danced away from her, but Amelia charged forward to grab the slippery stirrup. Her feet tangled in the hem of her muddy, wet dress and she stumbled into Buck’s side.
“Get back!” Kyle’s voice cracked like the loud burst of thunder as he dragged her away from the rearing horse. “Ray will be here soon. Get your wrap and wait inside.”
She refused to wait for a carriage or let Kyle take her back into the building. She faced him and struck his granite chest with her fists. Then she screamed with all the panic she felt bursting inside her. Even in the pouring rain and booming thunder, her neighbors would have heard the earsplitting scream. They would come outside and distract Kyle. Then she would take his horse and race for home.
He caught her chin and forced her to look at him. “It’ll ruin you if you’re found out here with me.”
“My father’s dead, Kyle! Do you think I care?” She opened her mouth, intending to scream until he released her, but Kyle hooked an arm around her waist and crushed her against him. He cupped the back of her head and pulled her open mouth against his thick-muscled shoulder.
Bound hard by his arms and partially sheltered from the rain, Amelia felt she’d been pulled beneath the protective limbs of a giant tree. Her heart and mind hung suspended in a weird silence that amplified Kyle’s hard breathing and the sound of rain splattering against her skull.
The crack of a gunshot ripped through the night and jerked Amelia back to the present, to death, and the searing pain that shredded her heart.
Kyle’s hand shot out and snagged the reins of Buck’s bridle before the gelding could bolt.
“Unhand her this instant!”
They both jerked their heads toward Philmore Bentley who was marching across his soggy yard with a rifle in his hands. Eva Bentley, the strictest board member and town gossip, stood on her porch squinting in their direction.
Kyle urged Amelia away from him and the deadly end of Philmore’s gun, but she clung to his hand. “Help me, Kyle. I need to get home.”
Philmore cocked his gun. “I warned you to get away from her.”
“Phil!” Kyle yelled through the rain. “It’s Kyle Grayson.”
Kyle pulled off his hat and faced Phil and his nosy wife.
Amelia yanked his sleeve. “Put me on your horse!”
“What’s going on over there?” Phil demanded, as he lowered the nose of his gun toward the grass.
Amelia could feel a scream of hysteria rising in her throat and knew if it left her mouth, she’d scream until they hauled her off to the asylum. “Now, Kyle. Please.”
“There’s been an accident and
I’m taking Miss Drake to her parents’ house.” He turned to Amelia and girded her waist with his fingers. “Put your hands on my shoulders and jump when I tell you to.”
“That young lady needs a chaperone with her!” Mrs. Bentley yelled, charging off her front porch, her intent to stop them obvious in the militant thrust of her jaw.
“Jump!” Kyle whispered.
The instant Amelia bent her knees and pushed, she was airborne. The horse shifted as she hit the saddle, but Kyle held her steady.
“Hook your knee over the horn and hang on. I’m coming up behind you.”
She’d barely managed to do so before she felt the sideways shift of the saddle as Kyle stepped into the stirrup and swung himself up behind her.
“You stop right there, Mr. Grayson!” Mrs. Bentley stood below them with her fists planted on her plump hips. The rain plastered her hair to her head and her chest heaved from splashing across the school yard.
“Beg pardon, Mrs. Bentley, but I’ve brought Miss Drake distressing news of her father’s death and I need to get her home immediately.”
“Oh, good heavens,” she said, her expression shifting from outrage to a mixture of shock and sympathy. “I’m so sorry, dear. Phil will get the carriage and we’ll take you home right away.”
Not about to wait for Phil or explain that a carriage was already on the way, Amelia kicked the gelding’s broad side and the horse lunged forward. Kyle’s arm clutched her waist, but she had to grab the horse’s coarse mane to keep herself seated.
“You’re going to kill us,” Kyle said, but he lifted Amelia off the saddle, settled himself behind her then let her bottom slip back into the cradle of his thighs. He pulled her against his chest then folded the sides of his jacket around her shivering body. “Hold on,” he said then kicked his horse into a full gallop out Liberty Street.
Amelia didn’t know if Kyle meant she should hold on to his coat or the horse, but the feel of his strong arm around her made her head reel. She felt trapped yet oddly protected by the warmth of his hard body. Still, his arms didn’t keep her from falling apart. She wept hard as they raced past Kyle’s sawmill in Laona and turned onto the road leading to Jamestown. Thankfully they would only travel a little over a mile to Shumla Road. Her teeth chattered and her shoulders quaked despite the warm nest Kyle provided with his body.
“We’ll be there soon,” he said near her ear as the rain and tears stung her eyes.
“What happened?” she asked between sobs. “Were you with Papa?”
“Yes.”
Although Kyle had to raise his voice to be heard, his grief was apparent. She felt the tightening of his arm around her waist and wished she could bury her face in his shoulder and escape the pain that lacerated her heart. Instead she let the rain slash her cheeks and mingle with her grief as she clung to the thundering beast beneath her.
As he turned onto Shumla Road, Kyle flung up his arm to flag her father’s head sawyer who was driving the oncoming carriage. “Ray!” Kyle yelled. “I’ve got Miss Drake with me!”
Ray Hawkins pulled the carriage to the edge of the road and Kyle slowed his horse. Amelia crushed Kyle’s hand around the reins. “Don’t stop. It’ll take forever in the carriage.”
He hesitated then waved Ray back in the direction from which he’d come. “I’ll take her the rest of the way,” he yelled then nudged his horse back into a gallop and left the carriage behind.
“Papa started the fire for me this morning.” She needed to tell Kyle that her father had been perfectly alive that morning and none of this made any sense. “His chest hurt, but he thought he was getting a cold.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
She heard the apology in Kyle’s voice and knew he was hurting, too. Her father had spoken of Kyle with pride on many occasions. Now her beloved father would never speak again. His arms wouldn’t hug her anymore and keep her from feeling alone in the world. She would never hear his laugh or watch him slap his thigh when something struck his funny bone. He wouldn’t knock on her door and break the monotony of her silent evenings by sitting at her too small table drinking her awful coffee.
Stinging rain streamed across her face and neck, but she couldn’t close her mouth against the sobs erupting from her throat.
Kyle’s arm tightened around her shuddering waist. “Your father said to tell you that he loves you. He wanted you to know that.”
Her throat ached and she choked on her tears. How like her father to spend the last minutes of his life thinking about her. He’d continually pushed her to find a man who would make her happy, even though he knew no decent man would want a soiled bride. Amelia had reminded him each week that she wasn’t allowed to marry while under contract as a teacher, and that her father’s love was enough for her. Despite her chronic loneliness, it really had been. She’d adored him.
Feeling her composure eroding in the rain, she sought something solid to hold on to. She found Kyle’s hand at her waist and laced her fingers with his, praying his warm grip, and the lights in the distance, would help her face what was waiting for her.
Chapter Three
The rain had stopped during the night, but the day dawned as gray and dismal as Kyle’s mood. Regrets consumed him while he sweated through a long, grueling afternoon at the mill. He’d wanted to clear his conscience last night and tell Amelia the truth surrounding her father’s collapse, to express his regret and apologize, but it would have increased her distress. So Kyle had given Amelia over to Jeb’s keeping, offered his condolences to her mother, and escaped into the blowing rain before Amelia could take his hand again.
Seeing her look at him as if he were a hero for whisking her through the storm to her father’s side had twisted Kyle’s gut. He wasn’t a hero. He was an idiot!
With an oath, he slammed his hand maul against the grapple hooks that bound a drag of maple logs. If Tom hadn’t changed so much, it would have never crossed Kyle’s mind to doubt him. But Tom had stopped swapping business news with Kyle and the other mill owners then he’d started cutting his prices and hoarding jobs. What else was Kyle to think? Even though Tom was an admirable man, his erratic behavior had shaken Kyle’s faith and planted doubts in his mind. He had been justified in confronting Tom.
“Come on!” Kyle whacked at the metal links then gave them a yank. Breathing in the scent of wood and earth, he struggled to pry the metal clasps loose, but couldn’t dislodge their grip in the bark.
Whether or not he’d been justified in confronting Tom, Kyle regretted it more than any mistake he’d ever made—and he’d made some blunders in his life.
More irritated with himself than the stubborn hooks, Kyle raised his arm and channeled his anger through the hammer. Iron struck iron and sparks flew. The hammer ricocheted off the hooks and drove straight into his shin.
Kyle heaved the hand maul across the yard.
He clamped his hands over his throbbing shin and plopped down on the rough bark of the maple tree that he’d been unchaining. “Good for nothing piece of rubbish! Stubborn hunk o’junk hammer.”
He rocked upon the tree trunk in excruciating pain while he tried to think of other appropriate expletives to curse the wretched thing. His head reeled and his stomach heaved. Feeling his shin swelling beneath his hand made him grit his teeth. He didn’t need this on top of everything else! He rocked in pain for several minutes, and then with a final oath he launched himself off the maple log and limped across the field toward home.
Until today his house had seemed conveniently close, but the ache in his leg and the humid air made the few hundred yards seem like miles. Knowing he had to attend Tom Drake’s funeral and face Amelia within the hour merely added to his misery.
As soon as he’d washed, shaved, and clothed himself in a suit, Kyle retraced his limping steps across the field to the barn. It was set well away from the mill in consideration of the horses, but close enough to house his bay-colored gelding and the heavy-muscled Percherons that moved the timber.
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br /> “What happened to you?” Duke asked from the open doorway.
As Kyle spun to face his younger brother, pain ripped through his shin and his leg gave out. He crashed into a stall and grabbed the half-wall to stop his downward plunge. “Duke! One of these days I’m going to bust your head for sneaking up on me.”
“That’s how I catch the bad guys.” Duke folded his arms across his thick chest, his biceps straining the sleeves of his full dress shirt that was devoid of his sheriff’s badge. “I saw you limping in here and thought I’d better see how seriously you were wounded.”
Kyle’s lips twisted with disgust. “I hit my shin with that rotten hammer again. It feels like it shattered my leg.”
“Do you think it’s serious?”
Kyle grimaced as he flexed his foot. “Feels like it, but probably not.”
“I’ve got the carriage. How about a lift to the funeral?”
“I doubt I could make it otherwise.” Kyle hooked a hand over his brother’s shoulder and limped from the barn. He glanced up at the dreary sky and sighed. “This is one rotten day.”
“Any day you bury a friend is a bad day,” Duke said, his voice somber. “I still can’t believe Tom’s dead.”
Neither could Kyle.
Duke tried to assist him into the carriage, but Kyle smacked his hands away. “I can manage without your coddling.”
“All right, hardhead.” Duke climbed in and waited. “I pity the woman who ends up with you and your lovely disposition.”
“At least she won’t be coddled to death.” Kyle heaved himself aboard. “How do you manage to stay alive? You’re too softhearted to be a sheriff.”
Duke slapped the reins and set the carriage in motion. “Just because I wear a badge doesn’t mean I can’t talk nice to a woman and give her a little affection now and then.”
“Am I supposed to be gleaning some mystical wisdom from those words?” Kyle suspected Duke was alluding to his past blindness with Evelyn and he didn’t want to talk about it.
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