“That's right. If you wrote about me, it would be so unbelievably heroic that no one would believe any of it."
One of Seb’s brothers—she thought it was Matty—groaned. “You're mighty full of yourself," he called out.
"Not as much as you are," Seb called back.
He was happy to joke with his brothers, but Emma knew that he still had some deep wounds from his past.
They’d talked at length in their snug little cabin, mostly during the quiet part of the night, huddled together under the quilt in their bed. Even though it didn't make sense, he admitted that he often worried she’d leave him. She knew it was because of the way he’d been orphaned at such a young age.
She’d taken to reciting the same vows she’d promised on their wedding day. For richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, till death do we part. It seemed to help settle him.
Now, she held her coffee in her lap with one hand while she reached up with the other.
He caught her hand gently, the calluses on his palm reminding her of all the work he was putting in to help my family homestead.
It turned out the family hadn't needed all of the funds in her bank account. Enough had remained to buy lumber for a small cabin. They’d built near Fran and Edgar.
And she’d just sold another book, the one that she’d finished dictating to Phillip just as Seb had reappeared in her life.
Her new husband had teased her that he wasn't sure whether he could approve of her working so closely with Philip for hours on end. He had joked that maybe he would learn how to type and buy a typewriter. She’d reassured him with kisses that he had nothing to be jealous about. She’d never felt romantic inclinations toward Phillip. Seb believed her, even if he joked about it.
But she was already arranging to dictate her next dime novel with someone from the ranch at her side. Maybe Ida could do her schoolwork nearby.
“Want to sneak away?" her husband asked.
His nearness caused a delicious shiver down her spine, and she allowed him to help her out of her seat and around the jumble of legs and skirts as everyone continued reading in the family room.
No doubt there would be more teasing later, but she didn’t mind.
She followed Seb out of the house and into the noon sunshine.
* * *
Outside, Seb led Emma to the corral, where he had two horses saddled and tied off, waiting for them. They’d already slipped into their coats.
"We’re going riding?" Her voice lilted with surprise and happiness.
He couldn't help stealing a kiss, gratified when her hands came up to link behind his neck as she kissed him back.
He would spend the rest of his life making her happy if it was up to him.
One of the horses whickered, and he broke off the kiss, squeezing her waist and then letting her go.
Shortly after her flight from Tolliver, when she’d ridden blind across the countryside she didn't know, she’d mentioned that she wanted to learn to ride.
Since then, he’d spent a little time every day training a sweet bay mare that Oscar had known would be perfect for the job. No matter how far Seb rode, when he turned her loose on her own the mare always returned to the barn. He rewarded her with grain and extra apples each time to reinforce the importance of coming home. The horse was smart and strong and familiar with the land.
He knew Emma was just about ready to go on her first solo ride. But not today.
Now was the perfect time to escape. His brothers were distracted by the new book, it was a lazy autumn afternoon, and the chores were done. He had Emma all to himself, and he didn't intend to squander this time.
Emma used her walking stick, a usual fixture in her hand, to navigate to the corral.
“She’s saddled and ready to go,” he said. "About three steps in front of you.”
Emma moved forward, trusting his estimation of the distance. She extended her hand and gently brushed the horse’s neck with her fingers.
“Give me a boost?” she asked.
He made a little pocket out of his hands, and she used it as a step to boost herself into the saddle.
She smoothed out her skirts and tucked her feet into the stirrups, and he handed her the reins. She barely waited for him to mount up himself before she was guiding the horse across the yard toward the open meadow behind the big house.
He loved it that her confidence had grown in the few short weeks they’d been practicing together.
They rode across the land his family had spent almost two decades taming. Crisp autumn wind made Emma’s cheeks pink and rusted the colorful leaves on the aspens. They rode past the ridge that was a sort of a boundary line that separated the mountain meadow from the lower areas where cattle grazed.
At one point, a rabbit hopped out of the tall grass, likely startled by their horses. While Seb had to rein in his gelding, he was thrilled to see that Emma’s horse only gave a snort at the interruption and kept walking.
For her part, Emma was relaxed and in control in the saddle.
When they arrived at the mountain pond, the water was still as a mirror, reflecting the sky and mountains.
He and Emma dismounted, and he started unpacking the picnic from his saddlebag while she ground tied the horses nearby. He laid out the bounty that he’d sweet-talked Ma into packing up for him.
“You outdid yourself,” she said when she joined him on the blanket and he pressed a plate into her hand. “What’s all this for?”
“I thought we could celebrate your new book.”
Her lips twitched in a smile. “I thought that was what they were doing back at the house."
He gave a disgruntled sniff. “Those hooligans don't know how to appreciate fine literature.”
She giggled, and he couldn't help chuckling along with her.
He was glad she loved being with his family. It took a special kind of woman to put up with the teasing his brothers could dish out. The fact that Emma wanted to pull her own kind of pranks was just a bonus.
“Does there have to be a reason for me to sneak away and steal some time with my wife?”
“I guess not.”
He would never forget the warm, secretive smile that she gave him. Or the way his chest still puffed out with pride when he said the word wife.
Sometimes he had trouble believing it was true. Having Emma at his side had to be the biggest blessing anybody could ever receive.
They finished their meal and lay down on the blanket on their backs with their heads together. He picked out patterns in the swirling clouds against the blue sky while she told him what secrets the wind whispered to her.
They dreamed together about what they might be doing in a year or three years.
He was still pressing his case, trying to talk her into writing a book about the time when Fran had snuck along on a cattle drive.
She could fictionalize some of what had happened, but he had a feeling her readers would love a story like that.
A few hours later, just before they mounted up, Emma took his hand and leaned close, laying her head on his shoulder. “I love you, Seb.”
He brushed a kiss on her forehead. “I’m never going to tire of hearing you say that. I love you, too.”
Their quiet, peaceful time had to come to an end. They headed back to the big house and the chaos that awaited with his ornery pack of brothers and her sister and nieces and nephews galore.
And he couldn't be happier about it.
He’d taken a long and twisting road to get here. He’d found himself in the valley, and God had pulled him back out of the darkness. Now, he was living on the mountaintop. He could see so much light and so much brightness all around him. All the time.
He would never take it for granted. He was blessed indeed.
Epilogue 2
Cecilia stepped out of the buggy with shaking legs. She nodded to Oscar, who’d driven her this far, and he clucked to the horse and moved away from the tiny schoolhouse and toward the boardinghouse
down the street with a sign that proclaimed they served breakfast.
Things had settled down back home since Tolliver had been captured and killed. Emma and Seb were married. Susie was flirting with any man in pants, as usual.
The school term was set to begin in one week. This position seemed to be her last chance.
She smoothed down the heavy traveling skirt she wore to no avail. Wrinkles from riding in the buggy since before dawn weren't going away. It was now well after lunchtime, and her stomach reminded her that she hadn’t eaten the lunch Sarah had packed for her.
Her nerves had her tied up in knots, her stomach too wobbly to eat.
She needed this job. She hated the thought of disappointing Sarah and Oscar. But more than that, of disappointing herself.
She took a look around. The town reminded her of Bear Creek, but the Bear Creek of ten years ago, when she had first arrived in Oscar and Sarah's care.
Half of the buildings looked as if they had seen better days. Worn boards, peeling paint, dingy windows facing the main street. The other half showed that someone had been putting work into them. They were in good repair with a fresh coat of colorful paint that made the more worn buildings look even worse.
She straightened her shoulders and faced the school building that doubled as the church on Sunday mornings. She’d gotten that much information when she’d received an invitation to interview. She’d been promised nothing else.
If she managed to get the job, she would have to figure out transportation. She couldn’t ask her father to take a full day away from his work on the ranch when she needed to return home once a month or so. And she wasn’t great at driving a buggy. She could maybe make it from the homestead to town, but there was no way she could drive six hours across the wild country. And she couldn’t imagine staying here for nine months without seeing her family.
But she wasn’t sure she needed to worry. If she didn’t get this job, she might be at home for the foreseeable future.
Her hand trembled on the doorknob as she turned it and entered the schoolhouse.
Inside, the schoolhouse had been completely revitalized. The desks were new and clean, the chalkboard almost shining. There was an entire bookshelf on one wall—filled with books!
Two men waited inside, standing near the teacher’s desk.
She put on her best smile and went to meet them.
Mr. Collins had a mustache that quivered when he spoke. It was so big that she couldn’t tell whether he was smiling or frowning.
Mr. Tellers was thin and tall with graying hair.
“Mr. Morgan is the third school board member,” Mr. Tellers said. “He’s tied up in a meeting and should join us later.”
“Let’s get down to business,” Mr. Collins said.
They asked about her schooling. She told them about her family and about how having so many siblings and cousins had inspired her to teach.
When they asked about her experience teaching last year, she felt her smile slip. She’d finally admitted to Sarah what had happened. Her mother had advised her to speak the truth.
So Cecilia did. She explained about the misunderstanding and was earnest as she told them that she had no intention of letting a situation like that happen again.
She’d learned her lesson well. She would allow no more mistakes.
After what had happened with Simon, she wouldn’t trust a man with her reputation.
“I never intend to marry,” she told them. “And I won’t put myself in any situation where my morals could be questioned.”
She couldn't tell whether her words had any effect. The two men remained serious, almost grave.
They concluded the interview—still no sign of Mr. Morgan—and Sarah rose from the desk where she’d perched. It would be after dark before she and Papa arrived home.
She let herself imagine for one moment that this was her classroom. What would it be like filled with children, curious and eager to learn?
She wanted it.
She was halfway across the schoolroom when the outside door opened. A man stepped inside, and Cecilia froze.
She’d never, not in her entire life, seen such a fine specimen of a man. He had a hat in one hand, and his uncovered hair was perfectly golden blond. Even the faint hint of stubble on his cheeks was golden, and when it might've looked disreputable on another man, it only served to make this man, whoever he was, even more handsome.
His eyes were light blue, a shade she’d only read about in books. He wore a fancy jacket, the cut of which revealed a chest thick with muscle. The same kind of muscles her uncles had—the kind one built from hours and hours of hard work.
She realized he was saying something. It took her one slow blink to snap back into the moment.
His gaze was warm, and his eyes crinkled slightly at the corners.
Flustered, she glanced down at the floor. The moment her eyes broke contact, she came to herself.
She’d just finished telling the school board members that she was respectable. That they could trust her with their children, and that she would be respectable.
And the very next thing she’d done was to ogle the first handsome man that had come along.
What had she been thinking? She hadn’t.
She realized she missed the entirety of he’d said.
Her face burned. She clasped her hands tightly in front of her. “I’m terribly sorry. What did you say?"
He smiled. And if she’d thought him handsome before, well, it was nothing compared to seeing him smile.
Her stomach fell like it had the time she’d watched her toddler brother jump from the barn window into a pile of hay below.
She blinked.
“I was only apologizing for my tardiness. I can only hope you won't hold it against me if we are to work together this school term."
A sound like rushing water filled her ears.
Work together?
For a school of only twelve students, there would be no need for more than one teacher.
He took a step closer and stretched out his hand. "I am John Morgan. Chairman of the school board.”
No.
Oh no.
Exclusive invitation
Are you a member of Lacy’s email newsletter? Right now you can receive a special gift, available only to newsletter subscribers. Jonas’s Daughter is a 45-page short story and will not be released on any retailer platform—only to newsletter subscribers.
Thirteen-year-old Breanna White discovers a secret that turns her life upside-down.
Click here to subscribe and get your free gift. Unsubscribe at any time.
Winning the Schoolmarm sneak peek
Cecilia White’s stomach lurched. She couldn't be sure whether the discomfort was due to the rough motion of the stagecoach or the fact that, after almost half a day in the terrible conveyance, she was only minutes from arriving at Granbury, Wyoming, where she would teach for the next several months. The town was so small that it didn’t even have a sheriff. It had been left off of the railroad route and was only accessible by stage or on horseback.
Cecilia had made a promise to herself that what had happened last year when she’d been deceived by a married man was not going to happen again. No mistakes. She would stay focused. Not allow any distractions to keep her from being the best teacher that she could be.
Her mind bounced like the stagecoach wheel in one of the many ruts along the road. And of course it landed on John Morgan, the chairman of the school board, whom she had met only ten days prior.
She told herself the same thing that she had every time he’d crossed her mind for the past two weeks. Simply because she was attracted to him did not mean she had to act on it. And besides, there was no way that he was as handsome as her faulty memory wanted to paint him to be. Likely, she had been anxious and full of nerves from the interview itself. She'd been aware that this was her last chance for a job this school year. She’d been singularly focused on the interview and surprised when he had
joined them. That was all. Her nerves had exaggerated his good looks.
It didn't matter anyway. She would be busy in the classroom and keep to herself in the evenings. She would probably never see him.
Her carpet bag rested in her lap, and her hands were clenched on top of it. She made herself focus on relaxing each finger, taking a deep breath as she unfurled each one. This was going to be a good school year. The best. She was going to be invited back to teach next year. All the students would love her. All the parents would be impressed by what their children learned.
But as the stagecoach rolled down the tiny Main Street, she found her hands were shaking and her stomach had coiled. The coach rolled to a stop so abruptly that she was almost thrown to the floor. Thankfully, she was the only one on the stage, so no one else had seen her embarrassment.
She adjusted her simple bonnet and readied a smile. Perhaps she would meet someone on the street, a student or a parent. Or a new friend.
A tall shadow passed in front of the small window. She was expecting the stage driver, but that was not who filled the doorway when it opened.
It was John Morgan.
"Good afternoon, Miss White." His voice was warm and cheerful. His smile revealed a dimple cut into his left cheek, and she knew that her memory had been faulty.
If anything, he was more handsome than she remembered. The reality of his rugged features and sparkling blue eyes hit her almost like a physical blow to the stomach, and she had to catch her breath.
"Good afternoon," she murmured.
He extended his hand to help her out of the stagecoach. It would’ve been rude not to accept it. She gritted her teeth as she slipped her hand into his larger one. His other hand came underneath her elbow as she stepped onto the boardwalk. This section in front of the stagecoach office was in disrepair, the boards sun-bleached and uneven beneath her feet. Next door, there was an office with boarded-up windows.
In contrast, on either side of those two shabby buildings, both a leather goods store and a milliner were newly painted and looked in good repair. The boardwalk outside the painted buildings wasn't wind- and water-worn yet but looked brand-new.
The Cowboy's Honor Page 16