Texas Twilight (19 page)

Tucker made his way to the door, and slipped
out. Now that John had Charity and he intended to get some answers.
“I mean it, Charity. Since the day you arrived I’ve been a little
on edge, feeling this mysterious energy from you. And now this? Are
you planning on staying longer here than you let on? Has something
happened between you and Brandon? Out with it. What’s the big
secret?”

“Why are you so upset? I have no ulterior
motive, like you hint at, except to help the children of this town
while I’m spending time with you. That’s all. You can put your
speculations to rest.” She plunked her hands on her hips and glared
back at him. “You’re not the boss of me.”

“You damn well better believe I am,” he
retorted. “At least while you’re here in Rio Wells.”

Lily’s footsteps sounded overhead, then
descending the stairs. John breathed deeply, then gave his little
sister an all-knowing look of authority. Lily seemed to have
recovered from her shock. He needed to talk to her, but not in
front of Charity. No need to put his sister in jeopardy by knowing
about the gem’s whereabouts. The fewer who knew about it, the
better. He was now having serious doubts about Boone’s proclamation
about working for the robbery victim in Boston. For all they knew,
the man was out to steal it himself. Just because it was hidden in
Harriett’s things didn’t mean the object wasn’t with its rightful
owner. There were more possibilities to this story the longer he
thought about it.

“The men are gone?” Lily asked.

“Yes,” Charity answered. Her face was still
red with annoyance. “Mr. Shellston sent his good wishes for
tomorrow.”

“
That man
,” Lily
said with aggravation. “He has the nerve to come here and wish us
luck.” She picked up the green velvet and carefully laid it over
the back of the wooden frame. “He is one person that sets my blood
to boil.”

“Here, let me help,” John said, reaching
forward to hold the edges as she stretched it taut across the
frame. “Get the hammer, Charity. Please.”

Still looking sullen, Charity picked up the
hammer and tapped two small nails through the fabric and into the
wood. She edged around his way as she worked, forcing him smack up
next to Lily, and the sweet scent he’d become familiar with in the
stagecoach. Lily’s fingertips brushed his forearm accidentally in
an effort to fit the velvet to the opposite side, and tingles of
fire raced up his arm.

“There. There—hold that,” Lily said close to
his ear, then laughed nervously. Every fiber in his being surged in
pleasure and he fought the impulse to take her into his arms. He
knew, without a doubt, that she felt the electricity humming
between them, too.

Charity yelped as the hammer glanced off a
nail, clattering to the floor.

Lily went for the tool at the exact moment he
did, and unexpectedly they were face to face. Their gazes locked,
and held, as his hand enfolded hers on the hammer. They came up
slowly with it between them.

A second passed. Charity cleared her
throat.

In conspicuous silence, they finished up and
John turned the now-covered frame over and held it up for
inspection.

“It is beautiful,” Lily gushed. “Even without
anything else I think the velvet picks up the light so nicely. Can
you imagine how it will look with buttons and glass beads and other
pretty things? Thank you so much.” She pointed to a spot on the
wall. “I think it will go right over there.”

She looked questioningly to Charity. “What do
you think?”

“Nice.” Charity narrowed her eyes at John
over Lily’s unsuspecting head. “Really pretty.”

The door banged open, barely giving the bell
time to tinkle. “Remind me to find you a doorstop,” John said, as
Dustin stepped into the shop. “You need one before the wall gets
worn out.”

Dustin removed his hat and held it in his
hands. “Mornin’,” he said, looking around. “Just thought I’d drop
in since I had some business at the bank.” He gave a low, satisfied
whistle. “The place looks great. Ready for business.”

“It is due to your help, too.”

John couldn’t help but smile as the color of
Dustin’s face deepened. The silence in the room was palpable.

Finally, Dustin turned. “I guess I better get
to my appointment.” He hesitated, then put his hand into his
pocket. “Here, Lily. This is for luck.”

He placed a small item, sandwiched between
two pieces of delicate paper, into Lily’s open palm. “It’s a
four-leaf clover. It’s been dried. A fresh one is nonexistent
around these parts.”

Lily’s eyes opened wide and she looked at the
gift for several long moments. “We used to hunt four-leaf clovers
for hours. When I was a little girl,” she said, turning it over and
looking more closely. The tone in her voice spoke volumes. “It is
an especially thoughtful gift. Thank you, Dustin.”

She walked to the door and pulled up a chair.
When she stepped up, both cousins hurried over to assist her, each
steadying a side. Extracting a pin from her pocket, Lily carefully
secured the clover in place a few inches above the front door.

Turning, she smiled. “There. We will see what
the future brings.”

C
harity gripped
the rope hanging from the bell tower and pulled it to her knees.
The good-sized iron bell pealed out its announcement that class
would resume this morning. A bit nervous, she ran her hands down
the front of her dress and smoothed the apron she’d fastened around
her waist. Her. A teacher?
Who would’ve thought?

All the way down Dry Street was Lily’s shop,
open for business for the first time. She hoped Lily would have a
customer today. Maybe even two. She liked Lily. There was something
brewing between her and her brother. Dustin had set his sights on
her, too.

The night she arrived in Rio Wells John had
told her about his engagement to a young woman in Boston. It had
been a surprise. And now this. Charity wished there was something
she could do to help. But, with things of the heart, one had to
travel the perplexing road alone.

Next to the school was an open lot where the
children played at recess, and next to that was the Cheddar Box
Restaurant. She was the last building on this side of Dry Street,
with nothing but land as far as she could see until it ended at the
base of the hills. The old Station House Hotel and the old stage
stop were directly across, with Cradles’ Livery next door. At that
moment, Cradle stepped out of his barn doors with pitchfork in hand
and looked around. Catching sight of her on the school house porch,
he smiled widely and waved.

The sight of him made Brandon Crawford pop
into her thoughts and she wondered what he was doing right now. Was
it quiet in Y Knot? Was he having a cup of that horrible coffee he
boiled at the sheriff’s office? Or, was he hanging out at the ranch
with her brothers?

She closed her eyes, bringing to memory his
smile, and her heart fluttered. No one else had the power to do
that to her, and she relished the sensation as she missed him all
the more. Had he discovered she wasn’t in Denver? Had the rest of
the family?

She needed to let them know where she was. Of
course Luke was going to be furious when he found out, as were Matt
and Mark. She didn’t even want to think about her mother and
father, and what they might do. But, she reminded herself, she was
an adult and free to go wherever she wanted. Still, saying and
doing were two different things.

A wagon pulled up in front of the school. A
man garbed in farm clothes tipped his hat to her and a boy about
seven hopped out and helped his sister to the ground. The child ran
up to the porch steps as the little girl tried to keep up.

“Good morning,” Charity said, as he came
close. “Welcome.”

“Mornin’,” he answered in a raspy little
voice. He hurried into the school room, apparently too shy to talk.
His brown hair was slicked back and his face scrubbed clean. His
dungarees had such a big roll at the cuff Charity was sure they
were meant for someone much taller than his small frame.

The man watched until his children were
inside. “Thank you. I’ll be back later to pick them up,” he called
in a think Texas accent. He slapped the long reins across the
team’s back and the wagon rolled away toward the town center.

“Good morning,” Charity said going to the
front of the room. “How are you this wonderful Thursday in May?”
She had thought the girl younger, but now with a better look at the
two, she realized they must be twins.

“My name is Miss McCutcheon and I’m going to
be your teacher for a few weeks. Since I’m new in town I’ll need
your help with names and such. Do you think you can do that?”

Both nodded.

“Good.” She looked to the boy first because
he seemed most outgoing.

“My name is Jedediah. And this here is
Jane.”

Charity relaxed and clasped her hands behind
her back, getting used to her new position. “What’s your last
name?” She pointedly looked at Jane, trying to draw the little girl
out. She wore a tattered blue checkered dress that looked as if it
had been fashioned out of an old tablecloth. Her hair was brushed
and pulled into two pigtails, just above her ears, which were
equally as scrubbed as her brother’s. Her hair was so long that
even in pigtails it fell down past her shoulders.

“It’s Cole, ma’am.” The child’s face turned
beet red and she giggled.

“Where do you live?”

Jedediah sat up straight. “‘Bout a mile outa
town toward the Rim Rock.”

“In that case, I believe I passed your place
the other evening. It was on the right-hand side with a big brown
barn right off the road. Is that right?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“How many children usually come to
class?”

Both shrugged in unison and Charity saw more
of a resemblance between them.

“Five or more?”

“It depends,” the boy said. “Sometimes it’s
just me and Jane, because my ma sets the sun by book learning.
Sometimes there can be ten students, though, too.”

Charity walked to the chalkboard and wrote
her name in big letters. As she was writing the twins’ names below
hers she heard footsteps, then someone taking a seat. When she
turned there was an older boy sitting in the last chair of the last
row, closest to the door. It was as apparent as a colicky calf that
he wasn’t happy about being here.

“Good morning,” she greeted. She waited a
moment for a reply, and when there wasn’t one she asked, “Your
name, please.”

“Harland Shellston.”

“The banker’s son?”

“Yeah,” he shot back disrespectfully. “The
famous First Bank of Texas. You’re pretty smart.”

So, here was the problem Mr. Billingsworth
had been talking about. Harland Shellston’s very own son. His gaze
challenged her even now. What would he be like once they were more
familiar? Charity smiled, looking forward to the test. He had no
way of knowing she had three nephews, all around his age. If
Harland wanted to give it a go with her, she’d be happy to take him
on.

L
ily stood
safely away from the wood-burning stove as she stirred a pot of
oatmeal. It was almost time to open and she wanted to make sure her
aunt had something in her stomach before opening to the public for
the very first time. Excitement rippled through at all the
possibilities that lay ahead. She dearly wanted her aunt to be a
part of this day. Lily had high hopes that Tante would agree to be
helped down the stairs and sit in the rocker by the front window.
There was a beautiful spot of sunshine just waiting for
her.

Lily scooped a ladleful of the creamy oats,
already doctored with milk and sugar, into a bowl and placed it on
a wooden tray. She added a napkin, spoon and cup of lukewarm tea
and proceeded up the stairs, peeking into the bedroom. “Tante, are
you awake?” She was lying on her side, and Lily couldn’t see if she
was still asleep.

“Yes, my dear.” She reached for her
spectacles and rolled over. Lily came in and set the tray carefully
on the highboy and assisted her as she sat up.

“Would you like to get up and sit in the
chair for your breakfast, or remain in bed?”

Lily noted the violent shaking of her aunt’s
hands as the old woman straightened the sheet on her lap and
smoothed down the lace trim. She should be getting better every day
and it looked to Lily as if she were getting worse. She was
shrinking away right before her eyes.

“I think I’ll take it here,” she said, as she
patted the sea-green eyelet comforter. “If that’s okay.” Her voice
was soft, uncertain.

Sitting on the side of the bed, Lily took her
hands into her own. “Yes, anywhere you would like.” She paused,
thinking. “You will be better soon, Tante. I’m sure of it.”

Harriett’s eyes, clouded with desperation,
looked into her own. “A day never goes by without me thinking
about…it.” Her voice trailed off on the last word as if speaking
about the drugs would make them materialize right before their eyes
like a raging demon. “I’m so sorry you have to take care of me as
if I were a baby. I—”

“Stop now,” Lily said softly. She gave her
aunt’s hands a little shake. “You have nothing to be sorry for. You
did not know that morphine was addictive when your doctor gave it
to you. You trusted him. He is to blame. I love you.”

Lily got up and placed the tray onto her
aunt’s lap. She unfolded the napkin, positioning it on her
nightgown, over her chest. Resuming her seat, Lily stirred the
cereal to make sure it was cool enough to be eaten, then handed the
utensil over. “After you eat I want you to come down into the shop.
Do you know what today is? It is our grand opening. And it is less
than an hour before we open our doors for business for the first
time.”