The Teacher and the Preacher

by Victoria Phelps

  He would pray for her forgiveness with every single breath.

  Chapter 5

  Caroline

  Caroline fastened the belt at her waist and glanced in the mirror one last time. The red ribbon she had tied in her coal black hair stood in vibrant contrast and displayed her widow’s peak to full advantage. Truth be told, she was mighty proud of her hair falling long and lush down her back. Vanity was surely a sin, but a body deserved to take some pleasure in their appearance. Well, if she cared, she’d ask Sven for his opinion on vanity. She gave a little harrumph. She didn’t plan to let that man get under her skin again. No, she did not.

  She twisted and turned to get a look at herself in the small mirror and frowned. Maybe she should put her hair up. It might be more proper. She reached back and gathered it into a single rope before letting it fall down her back again. There wasn’t enough time before the Wayne family came to fetch her for her to wrangle the thick mass into a bun.

  Caroline was aware she looked young for her age, but she was the schoolmarm, after all. With her ebony hair floating behind her like a cape and her diminutive figure, she despaired at looking old enough or competent enough to control a room full of children. Well, she hoped appearances would be deceiving. Training to be a teacher had been a breeze. She hoped being one would be the same. She loved children, but some of her students would be bigger than she. She gave a most unladylike snort. It didn’t take much to be bigger than Caroline Connors and that was a fact. Well, it was a worry, but she wouldn’t borrow trouble until it came looking for her.

  Micah sat on the floor gnawing a smooth wooden block Sven had presented to the baby as they passed his workshop the day before. The little piece was too big to swallow and sanded to exquisite smoothness. Caroline had to admit that Micah loved it, and it seemed to alleviate his teething pain.

  “Ready to go?” she enquired. Micah rewarded her with a wild waving of his arms. Laughing, she plucked him from the floor and carried him down the stairs when she heard the creak of the Wayne wagon.

  “Howdy, Caroline,” John called. He dropped to the ground in a single smooth motion.

  “Hello, Mrs. Connors,” the three Wayne children chorused from the back.

  “Hello, children. Hello, Marcie,” Caroline answered as John helped her to sit next to his wife.

  The ride to the barn dance was a short one, but John filled it with instructions for one and all.

  “Ava and Adam, you are to stay in the barn at all times. If you need to relieve yourselves, find me or your Uncle Tom to take you,” he began.

  “Yes, Papa,” they replied in unison, nudged each other and laughed.

  Marcie laid a gentle hand on Caroline’s arm. “The twins do that all the time. Speak at the same time; finish each other’s sentences. They know if the other is ill or hurt. It’s a special bond,” she asserted.

  John continued, “Katie and Micah will stay in the children’s corner, of course. The parents take turns watching the little ones.”

  “Don’t worry, Caroline. John and I will be there most all the time. You just enjoy the dance.” Marcie gave another friendly pat.

  John’s sapphire eyes twinkled with merriment, but they were serious all the same. “You two,” he nodded at the women perched on the bench by his side, “never leave the barn unescorted. I tend to keep Marcie by my side, but many cowboys will want to dance with you, Caroline, seeing as how single women are still in short supply. If one of them gets too friendly, you just give a wave. I have a feeling the preacher plans to keep a close eye on you,” he chuckled. “But be careful, and you both look mighty pretty.”

  He pulled the wagon close to the entrance of the barn. The children tumbled from the back like a bundle of warm puppies.

  “Ava and Adam, take Katie to the children’s corner and see her settled. Mama and I will be right in,” John instructed. He watched the three of them disappear through the door before lifting each woman to the ground. “I want the two of you to wait for me…” he paused as Sven joined them.

  “I’ll watch the women until you settle your horses,” he offered.

  “Thank you, Sven,” John agreed. “I’ll be right back.”

  Sven held his arms out toward Micah, and the baby leaned for him like a flower turning toward the sun. “Ladies,” he inclined his head toward the door.

  Caroline stopped at the entrance to the barn and stared. She hadn’t been to a community dance since she left Cold Spring. Oh, how she had missed the sense of belonging. How it had crushed her spirit when the people who had been her life-time companions turned their backs on her.

  She thirsted to be part of this town like a man forty days in the desert yearned for clear, cool water. Sven’s eyes met her own with a twinkle of understanding.

  “I want to add my cake to the other desserts,” Marcie gestured toward a table laden with the best efforts of the town’s women.

  “We’ll follow,” Sven replied. “Then we’ll see if Micah wants to play with the other children.”

  The band tuned their instruments in a cacophony of squeaking and plucking. Children ran across the floor, playing tag, laughing, sweating in their pleasure. Adults drifted in groups. Men shook hands. Women hugged and kissed cheeks. A wall of cowboys stood along the back of the barn, hands stuffed in pockets or thumbs hooked through belt loops. Legs crossed at the ankle in nonchalance, but their restless eyes belied the effect.

  “Let’s get a place for the first dance,” John put a proprietary arm around his wife. Marcie dazzled him with a smile, and they moved onto the floor. The band started and a tall man in a brown plaid shirt moved to the front. As the music gathered speed, he called the steps to the dance and the room erupted in a swirl of swishing skirts and stomping boots.

  “Those fellas against the wall are single, Caroline,” Sven began. “They’re mighty hungry to spend some time with a woman, and you’re as tempting as sweet tea in July.” Sven cleared his throat. “I’ll keep my eye on you, but if one of those cowboys causes you any trouble, you holler for me.”

  “Honestly, Sven, it’s a dance. What harm could they cause?” Caroline frowned at the big man. “Anyway, you don’t have any say over me. You gave that up.” When a flash of pain washed over his face, she regretted her words. She probably loved him still. She suspected she always would, but her pride rankled. He’d abandoned her. Left her pregnant in a small and unforgiving town.

  “Just do as I ask. If you need me, holler,” Sven repeated. The heat of his body radiated toward her like the rays of the sun, soaking through to her marrow and melting her resistance. He had Micah perched on one arm and their two faces, so much alike, studied her. Caroline would have laughed at the sight if it didn’t scare her so. It seemed to her that anyone giving them even half a glance would see they were related.

  “Let’s get Micah to the children’s corner.” Caroline tried to hide her distress.

  “I’ll take him later, I want to hold him for a bit.” Sven swooped the boy over his head in a quick dip and soar. The baby shrieked with delight. “Here comes the first cowboy,” Sven growled. One of the men peeled himself away from the wall and moved toward Caroline like a panther on the hunt.

  “Evening, ma’am,” he drawled. “Care to dance?”

  She did. She surely did care to dance. “Yes, thank you.” She placed her hand in his outstretched one, and they joined a square.

  Caroline hadn’t had this much fun since… Well, since Sven left, and she’d learned she was pregnant. She swirled and dipped and waltzed and let life buzz through her body like she was a jar of lightning bugs. Her eyes searched for Sven whenever she had a pause before the next fella presented his hand, and every time she breathed a sigh of relief. Micah was fine. He sat perched on Sven’s muscular arm laughing and running his pudgy hand over Sven’s face or patting his chest to the beat of the music.

  The fiddler fiddled a long, moaning note and the crowd clapped their approval. “The band needs to wet their whistles and visit that
table over yonder.” He pointed at the cookies, cakes, and pies. “We’ll be back in, oh, twenty minutes or so.” More applause let the musicians know their worth, and they smiled and gave a friendly nod as they jumped down from the little stage.

  Sven had materialized by her side, and her current partner gave him a look of open hostility. His hand took possession of her upper arm and drew her away.

  “I can take care of myself, Sven Nielson,” Caroline fumed. She wanted to stamp her foot for good measure, but surely a schoolmarm would not do anything so childish. Her feet stayed firmly planted on the dusty floor.

  Sven’s voice was reasonable and calm. “Now, Caroline, I warned you. These men are hungry for a woman. Best not encourage them.” His face flushed a deep red. He bent to drop a few private words into her ear. “Don’t forget. I plan to win you back. You and Micah both. You belong with me.”

  Caroline glowered. How dare he assume such a thing. She didn’t belong to anyone. In a huff and a swish she left the dance floor with Sven matching every stride. Dropping to a bench, she took a seat next to Marcie and held her hands out for Micah. Sven set the child on her lap, but his hands lingered on his back reluctant to let him go.

  Marcie’s eyes twinkled with mischief. “You’re none too popular with some of the ladies,” she snorted. Caroline followed her gaze to a knot of young women glaring her way. “Sven has done nothing but hold Micah and watch you. I do believe they were hoping to have a dance or two with our handsome preacher.”

  Sven sat next to her and held a hand palm up toward Micah who began patting the offered target. “I asked the band to start with a waltz. Will you dance with me, sweetheart?” The heat of his thigh pressing against hers sent tremors racing. Her legs quivered, her breasts felt heavy and her nipples pressed against the fabric of her dress. His ice blue eyes held her darker ones in silent acknowledgment. He knew, and she shivered in spite of the sweltering heat in the barn.

  She’d always loved dancing with Sven. In spite of his size, he was smooth and elegant on the floor. When he held out his hand, she transferred the baby to Marcie’s waiting arms and let his fingers fold around her own. His big hand covered the entire span of her back. The heat of his fingers soaked through her dress and her camisole to leave scalding imprints on the flesh of her back. Music filled the room, and then it was just the two of them – floating, turning, flying. If she could live inside this moment, suspended in Sven’s muscular arms, she would never want another thing. He surrounded her with his strength, his smell, his masculinity, and she felt his need hot and molten. Every now and again his thigh would brush between her legs as they spun in their magic web around the floor of the barn. That moment, when his thigh opened her private space with gentle pressure, left her damp with desire. She closed her eyes and groaned.

  When the music stopped, Sven pulled her close and dropped a kiss on the top of her head. “Sven, stop,” she protested and gave him a little shove. “It’s not proper. You’re the preacher and I’m the teacher, after all.”

  “True enough, sweetheart, but that doesn’t mean we can’t be in love. I’ve never stopped loving you. Not for a single moment.” Her hand disappeared into his big one. “The town will approve of a romance. I aim to be a gentleman, but I’d like to know my chances.”

  A group of cowboys entered the dance, whooping and slapping their hats on the sides of their jeans. The sheriff sauntered over and had a small word before allowing them into the barn. Men pulled their women closer and children were gathered in. These men might not be looking for trouble, but they had the makings for it.

  “I believe they’re a little drunk, Caroline. Stay away from them,” Sven cautioned. His eyebrows formed a single line of displeasure.

  Caroline nodded and followed Sven’s broad back off the floor. A hand seized her wrist from behind and pulled her away.

  “You’re mighty young and far too pretty to be the schoolmarm,” an alcohol fueled voice stated. “Now my buddies tell me you done danced with nearly every cowboy here, and I think it must be my turn.” He propelled her to the far side of the dance floor.

  “Let go of me.” Caroline pulled on her wrist.

  “Stop your squirming,” he spat his answer.

  Cowboys smelling of cheap whisky and cheaper cigars surrounded her. They moved in a tight knot toward a small side door. She was trapped in the center unable to see through, around, or over, but she felt the sudden coolness of fresh air and knew they had swept her outside.

  She tried to scream, but her throat was tight with terror and no sound passed. Hands roamed over her, and she tried to knock them away, but there were too many, and they were too strong.

  Her skirt was lifted from behind, and cool air assaulted her bottom. She grabbed at the material and heard a rip.

  Tears trailed down her cheeks and soaked her bosom. No, not this. Not after all she had gone through to become respectable once again. To find a place where she could hold her head high and proud. Please, not this. There would be no recovery. She knew this beyond the proverbial shadow.

  She would be blamed.

  Her legs shook, her arms trembled, but she continued to push and punch at the wall of masculine muscle. Laughter and insults rained down in response. She was a fly caught in a spider web. Well and truly trapped.

  A roar split the air. If she ever in her life heard a lion lift his head and bellow on a plain in deepest Africa, it could not be any louder or ruthless or welcome.

  One of the cowboys was lifted by the back of his shirt and thrown against the side of the barn. He slowly slumped to sit with his legs stretched out in front of his body, loose limbed, like a puppet on a string. The second took a fierce blow to his chin that snapped his head back and sent his body soaring through empty space.

  “I’ve got this one, Sven,” a deep voice said. “I’ve got it, now, you can stop.”

  “All right, Sheriff,” Sven growled.

  He gathered her in his arms preventing her from sinking to the ground. “I’ve got you, sweetheart. I’m sorry. I should have been watching. I let you get behind me.” She cried into his chest with deep, sobbing gulps. She was safe.

  The one cowboy still standing tried to shake free of the sheriff’s grip. “Stop that or I’ll let,” he dipped his head in Sven’s direction, “him have a crack at you.”

  “We was just having a little fun. We didn’t mean no harm,” the prisoner began.

  “Does it look like she was having fun?” Sven spat.

  Caroline lifted her head from Sven’s chest as the three men considered the red ribbon torn loose from her hair and hanging around her neck, the tear at the back of her dress, her red eyes and tear stained face.

  “Do you boys work for a ranch around here?” the sheriff enquired.

  “We’re just passing through. Hoped to get a spot on a drive,” the ruffian replied.

  “I’ll hold them in jail tonight and let them sober up. You three varmints will get out of town tomorrow and never come back.” The sheriff gave the man a shake and looked at Sven. “Will that serve?”

  Sven nodded before jabbing a finger at each of the three men. “If I ever see you again, you’ll be sorry and that’s a goddamned promise.”

  John Wayne stepped through the door. “Is everything all right?” he asked.

  “Those three cowboys that arrived late gave Caroline a hard time. The sheriff is taking them to jail,” Sven explained. Caroline still clung to him like a barnacle on the bottom of a boat.

  “I’ll give you a hand, Sheriff,” John said. He hauled the other two to their feet. “Take Caroline home, Sven. When I’m done here, I’ll gather my family, and we’ll bring Micah.” He paused. “Caroline, I know this was not your fault, but I think it best if the townsfolk don’t see you upset and…” he motioned at her disarray. “A single woman, the schoolmarm at that, and a sharp tongue can do a lot of damage.”

  Caroline was lifted off the ground and cuddled against a strong chest. A sob choked her. She wasn’t ruined
after all. Thank God. Thank Sven.

  When they reached her door, Sven lowered her gently to the ground and cradled her face in his hands.

  “Please be mine. Watching you dance with those cowboys tonight liked to kill me. Their hands touching you, their voices in your ear was more than I could bear.” His voice cracked.

  Caroline’s legs had gained a little strength, and she stepped back to look him in the eye. “I wanted to hang on to my anger. I wanted you to suffer like I did, but I guess you were in a hell of your own,” she said. “Pride. When you left me, my pride took a powerful blow.”

  “I’m so sorry,” he began.

  “I know you are, Sven. I know. You’ve always been the only man for me. I need to stop letting foolish pride and anger keep us apart.” She watched the Wayne wagon rumble down the street. “I want you, and I want Micah to have his father.”

  He lowered his head and claimed her mouth in a sealing, healing kiss. A heaviness settled in her abdomen, and she pressed her pelvis against the evidence of his desire.

  “When? When will you marry me?” he growled.

  “We’ll talk. Micah is almost here.”

  With Sven’s hands resting lightly on her shoulders, they met the wagon and took their son into their protective embrace.

  “Good night, Sven,” Caroline said. “I escaped one scandal tonight, and I don’t want to be caught spooning with the preacher. No sense in pressing my luck.”

  He laughed his relief. “You’re right. See you in church tomorrow?” he asked as he took her key and unlocked the door.

  “Yes, see you in church.” She kissed him lightly, lingering on his lips before disappearing into the building.

  As she walked up the stairs holding the sleepy baby in her arms, she nuzzled his damp hair. “We’re going to marry your daddy,” she whispered.

  Micah patted his mother’s back in a show of solidarity that brought tears to her eyes.

  “Oki,” Micah lisped. “Oki.”