He shook his head, a bitter twist to his mouth. “I’ve worked for
this town for thirty-six years. You want to know what I’ll get when I have to
quit because I’m too old to handle the job? I’ll get a gold watch, if I’m
lucky.”
I thought of Ellen Greer and her two plaques. Ellen had been
fortunate enough to have a niece who was willing to give her room. What would
the school board have done to reward her for 50 years of service to the
community if Ellen had had no one?
“I was surprised you even stayed on. You must have heard about
this place.” He glanced around the schoolroom.
“May I have more coffee, Miss McFarland?” Elvira Hudson cut in,
casting Tom Hallender a warning look. He stared back at her blandly. “Brady
Apperson wants to discuss last year’s robbery with you, Tom,” she told him.
Hallender’s eyes narrowed.
“What about it?” he asked defensively. I remembered what Ross had
said about the sheriff’s being unable to solve the crime.
“He has a theory about how the robbers got away and where they
went.”
Hallender gave a derisive snort. “Maybe he’d like to take over my
job,” he muttered bitterly as he set down his cup. “He can have it!” He cast me
an apologetic shrug. “We’ve a lot in common, you and I, Miss McFarland. Neither
one of us has any life we can call our own.” He walked away.
“Don’t let Tom upset you, Miss McFarland,” Elvira said, leaning
forward to pat my hand. She looked at my face with concern. “Are you feeling
all right? You look quite pale.”
“I just need some air.” I smiled weakly. “Excuse me.”
I turned away and moved as quickly yet inconspicuously as possible
across the room to my door. Perhaps the solitude would make the nausea and
dizziness subside. With my door closed behind me, I took several deep breaths,
but they did not help this time. I knew I was going to be sick. My fingers
fumbled frantically at the back door. I could not face the stench of the
outhouse, and I thought of fleeing to the privacy of the old oak beyond the
well. But I would never make it. I stumbled down the back steps and made it to
the wall of the schoolhouse. My stomach heaved, and I retched several times.
Nothing came up for I had not been able to eat all day. When the spasms were
over, I leaned weakly against the wall.
“You’re in a fine state of nerves, aren’t you?” Jordan whispered
right behind me, his hands grasping my shoulders at the same instant he spoke.
I jerked. My muscles went rigid. My heart began pounding at an alarming pace.
To my further humiliation, I was sure I was going to be sick again. I started
to shake, fighting desperately for control.
“Go away,” I groaned, another wave of nausea rising. I tried to
pull away, but he drew me back against him, bracing me.
“Calm down, Abby. You’ve got yourself all wrought up. Take a
couple of deep breaths,” he instructed. I obeyed, praying I would not be sick
in front of him again.
“Please, please just go away,” I begged, tears of frustration
blurring my vision. Jordan’s fingers kneaded my shoulders.
“You needn’t be embarrassed. I’ve seen people sick before.”
I shook my head, closing my eyes and clamping my mouth shut. The
wave swelled up and then graciously receded.
“I’d chance a bet that this is all due to your fear of facing me
after what happened between us at the river,” he murmured with a taunting
laugh. I yanked my shoulders, trying to be free of him. His fingers bit into my
flesh, holding me still. He lowered his head and whispered harshly against my
ear. “What did you expect me to do tonight? Announce to the damned township
that we made love?”
My muscles loosened as the dizziness returned. I felt too
miserable to fight him or speak. I wanted to turn toward him and seek the
comfort of his arms around me. But there was no comfort there. Only exquisite
torment and later, shame.
Jordan caressed my shoulders again. His fingertips moved over and
down to trail along my collarbone. I closed my eyes as a sigh escaped me. He
continued the massaging, slowly drawing me back against his chest. His face moved
against my hair. He lowered his head, and his lips roved down as he kissed the
curve of my neck. I shuddered, feeling a fire kindled in my body.
“Abby,” he breathed against my skin. “Abby, it was good between
us. Why did you run away from me like that?”
Memory returned. In the space of a second I remembered every
detail of what had happened by the river, and what he had said to me afterward.
All the shame I had felt then flooded back, and I gasped with the agony of it.
Twisting, I tried to free myself. Jordan’s fingers tightened
painfully as he swung me around. The sudden movement set my head reeling
sickeningly.
“Leave me alone,” I stammered.
“I should, by God. I don’t know why I bother with you. I’ve never
chased after a woman in my life. But I want you ... and I know you want me.”
The admission seemed tom from him against his will.
“No.” I shook my head. My hands reached up to press futilely
against the strong muscles of his chest. “You’re wrong.”
I saw his mouth turn up in a sardonic smile. “No? Do you want me
to prove it to you?” he demanded in a low, challenging voice. “It’d be damned
easy, Abby. Damned easy. I’m not a novice where women are concerned,” he went
on relentlessly, reminding me that he had already had one wife and still might
have a mistress living with him. A picture of his arms around Reva Gutierrez,
his mouth taking her, tormented me.
“But you’re the most passionately responsive one in my
experience,” he said harshly, his head moving down as though he intended to
prove his point and his power over me. I began to struggle in earnest then, and
the suddenness of my fight bought my momentary freedom. He reached for me, and,
desperate, I raised my hand to slap out at him as I had done once before. His
fingers closed so tightly around my wrist, I thought the bones would be
crushed.
“You’ll come out the loser in any slapping contest you wage
against me,” he ground out through his teeth. “Don’t you remember what happened
the last time?” His temper seemed barely in check, and I could feel the violence
coiled inside him.
I stared up into his blazing eyes and saw the rigid fury in his
expression. My eyes opened very wide in fear. He stared down at me, seeing my
fixed, still expression. The rage died, and the grimness left his face. His
fingers loosened their agonizing grip, allowing the circulation to return. He
started to say something when I heard someone saying my name.
“Abigail.” Ross was coming around the corner of the building.
“Abigail, where are you?” His voice was low.
Jordan’s mouth twisted cynically, his eyes never leaving my face.
Shaking, I turned away. “Over here, Ross,” I answered. Jordan
released my wrist abruptly, his expression accusing.
“So it’s ‘Ross’ and ‘Abigail,’ is it? What else is there to this
sudden intimacy that’s sprung up between the two of you?” he demanded, barely
moving his lips as he spoke.
“What’re you doing out... Jordan!” Ross said, coming around the
stairs and stopping as he saw the tall man standing in front of me, blocking my
escape. Ross stared at Jordan and then looked at me. “What’s going on out
here?”
“You tell me,” Jordan said in a low, growling voice. Ross looked
at me again, and I felt a guilty flush heat my entire body. The darkness
thankfully hid the embarrassed color. Jordan was looking at me now, and then
back at Ross. There was a decidedly cynical twist to his mouth.
“I overheard Missus Hudson saying you looked ill,” Ross explained.
“I was worried about you. Are you all right?”
“She’s fine. It’s just a case of nerves,” Jordan answered for me.
His tone implied dismissal, and Ross’s concerned expression changed as he cast
a cold look at Jordan. Then he looked at me again.
“Are you?”
I nodded.
“We’ve got to talk,” Jordan said to me.
“Just what’s going on?” Ross repeated. There was a hard edge to
his voice that I had never heard before. I looked up at Jordan. I loved him so
much, I wanted to die of it, but I was sure that what he felt for me was
nothing even close to that emotion. And I had already been a fool once over
him.
“No. We’ve... we’ve nothing more to talk about, Mr. Bennett.”
Jordan assessed my expression. He let out his breath in
exasperation. “Have it your own way,” he snapped. I watched him walking away
and felt bereft. I felt Ross watching me closely, but I didn’t care.
“What was going on out here between the two of you?” Ross demanded
in a whisper.
“Nothing.” I shook my head, feeling suddenly exhausted. At least
the nausea had passed.
“Were you really sick?” he asked, a dubious expression on his
face. I looked at him and suddenly realized that Ross Persall was jealous. It
surprised me very much.
“Yes, I was. Mr. Bennett must have heard me.”
“What did he mean about you and him having something to talk
about?”
“School business,” I lied. Ross did not take his eyes from my
face. But after a second he accepted my answer.
“We’d better go back in, or people are going to get suspicious,”
he said. “You go first. I’ll wait for a couple of minutes.”
I started to move away, but his hand at my elbow stopped me.
“Abigail...” he whispered, then seemed to change his mind. His hand dropped to
his side. “Go on. We’ll talk about Jordan Bennett later.”
When I reentered the schoolhouse, Elvira Hudson came over to ask
if I were all right. I forced a smile, saying I was fine now and that I had
only needed to get some air. She seemed satisfied. I looked around the room
until my eyes settled on Jordan. He was standing beside Reva, his hand
possessively beneath her elbow as he leaned down to whisper something to her.
My heart plunged into the pit of my stomach.
Reva looked up at Jordan curiously and then nodded. I focused my
attention back on Elvira. I tried listening to her inane, friendly chatter. I
did not notice Ellen Greer looking between me and Jordan with discerning eyes,
nor did I see the faint raise of her gray brows as Ross Persall came back into
the schoolroom and glanced once in my direction.
My face whitened as I saw Reva coming toward me with Diego and
Linda. Jordan was moving across the room, behind them.
“Miss McFarland, we have to go home,” Diego said with obvious
disappointment.
“Jordan says he’s got business to take care of at the ranch,” Reva
explained.
“We want to wish you a very merry Christmas, ma’am,” Linda said,
beaming.
“Thank you, and I wish you all the same,” I murmured, and smiled
back tremulously. Reva spoke to me for a moment. Her friendliness made me feel
dreadfully guilty and ashamed for loving Jordan. Linda hugged me, and Jordan
watched grimly. I looked up at him, praying that everything I felt was
well-hidden. His eyes were cold. His mouth tilted up at one side in a mirthless
smile.
“Have a pleasant holiday, Miss McFarland,” he said in a dry tone,
his gaze flicking toward Ross Persall with an added silent message. Stung by
his insinuation, I let my own eyes move to Reva as she steered the two children
toward the door.
“I wish you happiness with your family, Mr. Bennett,” I said with
a jerk of my chin. His eyes narrowed on my face for a moment. Then he strode
off toward the door, where Reva waited for him.
I remembered what the reverend had said in his angry parting.
“June can’t come soon enough....”
For the first time I agreed with him.
Whatever seemed to be ailing me got worse during the next week. I
lost weight, and my clothes seemed to hang on me. The sickness was worse during
the morning, sometimes so bad that I was hardly able to get out of bed. I could
hold down no food except a slice of bread and some milk late in the afternoon.
I debated going to the doctor, but decided against it. I had not the funds to
pay him, nor buy the prescription he might give me. And, I reasoned, whatever
bug I had would best be fought off with plenty of rest. Ten days of holiday
stretched out for that purpose.
However, my sleep was fitful, filled with nightmares. Sometimes I
awoke to crying, and I would lie in an exhausted stupor, unable to feel
anything but aching awareness of my back muscles. As the days passed, my
turquoise-and-gold eyes seemed to dominate the pallor of my face. I felt
drained of energy.
With the children out of school, I saw no one. I passed my time
making preparations for the coming classes. I visited Ellen once, but hardly
listened to what she said to me. I excused my placid state and went home to
rest.
A few days after the children’s Christmas program I was surprised
by a visit from Elizabeth Hayes. She tapped lightly at my back door,
identifying herself with her soft, self-deprecating voice.
“I hope I’m not bothering you,” she apologized as I invited her in
and she saw the papers and books spread out on my table. It was a brisk
morning. The sky was clouded over, warning possible rain that night. Elizabeth
was huddled inside a thick woolen shawl that all but swallowed her in its mass,
pregnant or not.