Tysche Dwai
To all those who made me love a good Western
“Class dismissed.”
They left in a roaring tidal surge of flailing arms and flying pigtails. Tin pails clanked and doors slammed as the children fled the prison of the schoolhouse into the dry grass heat of the Texas prairie, freed for the too brief days of summer.
Jayne Kincaid smiled, shaking tawny curls. Oh, to be young again...
With a sigh, the teacher stuffed the last books and papers into the worn leather satchel that served as a briefcase. “Ready to go home?”
“Yes, indeed,” came the heartfelt reply.
If anyone had said a year ago that this wild Texas flyspeck of a town would feel like home, Jayne would have said they were out of their minds...
* * * *
“Temptation, Texas,” grunted a voice outside the window as the stagecoach creaked to a stop at last, jolting Jayne out of a waking dream.
It felt like this rocking cage had been Jayne’s prison for weeks instead of days, but—in truth—the first part of this interminable journey had been aboard a coal-belching train. It was only here, in the back of beyond that even that moderately civilized transport was unavailable.
Jayne gathered the valise and stack of books that had been comforting companions on this miserable trip and opened the door of the stage. Brassy sunlight assaulted the senses as the teacher stepped out of the coach, blinking against the glare.
Fresh out of teaching college with the highest marks in the class, Jayne was so sure that a lucrative post to one of the Eastern prep schools was in the future. It would be a simple matter of submitting an application and waiting for the acceptance. Only it wasn’t.
Not three weeks after graduation, Father was killed when his carriage overturned. Mother had been gone for many years, and Jayne was alone for the first time and unsure of what to do. When Father’s lawyer said the estate was penniless and a position had been arranged here in Temptation, there had been no choice but to take it.
“Well, well, well...what have we here?” drawled a throaty voice. “Surely this ain’t the new schoolmarm?”
Jayne blinked again and shifted his valise to free a hand. Raising it to shade his eyes from the glare, he made out a petite figure clad in buckskin astride a huge sorrel.
“I’m the new teacher, if that’s what you mean.”
The little redhead spat a stream of tobacco juice at his feet. “Well, if that don’t beat all. I send for a teacher, and they send me some city boy.”
“My services were contracted by Sheriff—”
“Prescott. Yep. That’s me. Starr Prescott, Sheriff of Temptation.”
“You’re the sheriff? I was expecting—”
“You was expecting a man, and I was expecting a woman. Looks like we both got took.”
“I assure, you, Sheriff, I am fully qualified for this position.”
“I believe you.” She slid off the back of her horse with one fluid motion. “Probably for the best, actually. Some of them older boys would be a might hard for a woman to handle.” She cocked her head and stared up at him. “Looks like you can take care of yourself.”
He stared back. This tiny spitfire barely came up to his shoulder. He was pretty sure he could span her waist with his two hands, and it didn’t look as if she were wearing any of those cursed whalebone contraptions he had seen advertised back east.
In fact, her collar was open at the throat, and from the swell of firm brown skin he could see peeping from her blouse, it didn’t appear she was wearing anything at all beneath the shirt. He felt a most inappropriate stirring at the thought, and moved his valise to hide a telling bulge in the front of his trousers.
The sheriff didn’t seem to notice. She turned to the sorrel and gathered up the lead rein. “Come on, and I’ll show you where you’ll be boarding. ‘Course, the children are between sessions now, but I figured the new teacher might want a little time to get settled into town before the lessons started.”
They walked down the dusty main street of the town. Jayne looked about him curiously. The town was all clapboard and split shingles. The only building of any substance they passed was a windowless mud brick slab with SHERIFF over the door in block letters. He saw a general mercantile, a seamstress, and two saloons between the jail and the side street Starr turned down.
“Interesting town,” he commented.
“It’s home.” She shrugged expressively. “Here we are.” She pointed to a neat frame house with a postage stamp yard. “This here was the last teacher’s house. It’s yours now.”
Turning, she pointed out toward the horizon. “The school is over that hill about half a mile. If you want to put those things inside, I’ll take you over there.”
Jayne started to invite her in, but something about her studied inattention dissuaded him. He hefted the stack of books to a more secure resting place and fumbled open the door of the tiny house. Stepping across the threshold, he was assaulted by a wave of stale, musty air. He wrinkled his nose. The house must have been closed up for quite a while.
He set the stack of books on the sturdy table in one corner of the lone room. A small wood stove with two burners appeared to serve both kitchen and heating duties. A double cabinet hung on the wall above the table, with a lamp and oil supply atop it.
There was a neat, single bed covered with a patchwork quilt in the opposite corner of the room. Aside from a scrap rug in the center of the floor, that was the extent of the furnishings.
“We’ll have to do something about that,” he told himself firmly, voice echoing in the near empty room. “Wonder if I can get some lumber and nails around here...”
He slung the valise onto the bed. Hopefully someone would see to his trunk. The sheriff had whisked him away from the stage so quickly he hadn’t had a chance to collect it.
There was a light knock on the frame of the door. “You all right in there, teacher?”
Jayne shook himself out of his reverie, turned and looked at the sheriff. “Sorry, Sheriff. Just taking stock of things.”
“Well, you’ll have plenty of time for that, and I only have a few minutes more to spare for you. A sheriff’s work is never done.” The ghost of a smile flitted across her face.
Jayne was intrigued by the impish cast it leant her lean features. It made her appear much more approachable...and extremely desirable.
He felt his face flush. What is going on with me? I’ve only just met this woman. And it’s not as if I am desperately seeking a relationship, for Heaven’s sake.
“C’mon then.”
“Right.” He stepped across the room and pulled the door to behind him. “Is there a key...?”
She frowned up at him. “What for? Ain’t no lock.”
Well, that is something else that will have to change, he resolved at once.
Leading the horse, Sheriff Prescott turned and started toward the hilltop she had pointed to earlier.
“So...how did you get to be Sheriff, Miss Prescott?”
“Kilt a man.”
Jayne stopped dead in his tracks. It was not the answer he was expecting. This tiny little thing was a murderer?
She turned back when she realized he wasn’t following her any more. “He deserved it.”
“He deserved it?”
Her head cocked. “You don’t know a thing about it, mister.” Her face shut down to an expressionless mask. “Let’s move. It’s getting late.”
Jayne followed her in silence. There was a tension to her shoulders that hadn’t been there before. He had broken the fragile web of attraction he had sensed building between them. He sighed. It was probably irreparable.
“And I hoped I was making a friend,” he mumbled under his breath.
“You say something?” she asked suspiciously.
“Just talking to myself.”
“I wouldn’t recommend that around here. People will think you’re teched in the head.”
Jayne grinned despite himself. She was such a little bundle of contradiction.
They reached the top of the hill, and the sheriff stopped. Jayne came up beside her and looked down at the valley spreading out below them. Nestled in a small copse of trees at the foot of the hill was a neat, whitewashed frame building with a dirt yard before it and a rope swing swaying in one of the trees. There was a cast iron bell set between two posts beside the doorway.
“That there’s the school. One of your duties will be ringing the bell to call the young’uns to class in the morning and let them go at noon.”
“Wait...classes only go till noon?”
“Them young’uns got chores too, y’know. Hard enough to get some of them to set still from eight to noon.”
He was going to have to revise his lesson plans. Good thing there was plenty of time before the start of the school session.
“You want to see it?” She gestured toward the schoolhouse.
“Yes, please, Sheriff.”
“You might as well call me Starr,” she commented as she started down the hill toward the building. “Everybody else does.”
This time, Starr looped the horse’s reins to the hitching post beside the building and mounted the steps to the door with him. She pushed open the panel.
“It ain’t much, but it stays warm in the winter if you get the fire lit before the young’uns arrive.” She pointed out various aspects of the room. “There’s the stove. Boys will help you keep the wood box filled. It’s part of their tuition.” She moved down the double rank of bench-backed desks, running her hand along the top of them lovingly as she passed. When she reached the head of the class, she turned back to him. “This here is your desk. It has one good drawer that locks in case you need it. We got some books over here, but the students all bring along their own primers and slates.”
She looked down at the teacher’s desk, and he thought he detected a trace of wistfulness in her expression. “Anyhow—there are the coat pegs and boot box by the door. And that’s about it. Anything you need, let me know about it, and I’ll take it to the town council.”
She drew herself together. “I gotta get going back to the jail. Oh, one last thing. The bell outside is also the fire bell, and you are responsible for ringing it if there is a need.”
“I see...how will I know?”
“You’ll be the first to know if a fire breaks out in most cases. The firehouse is right next door to yours.”
“There’s a fire station?”
“We ain’t all uncivilized louts out here in the backwoods, y’know,” she said dryly.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to disparage you, Sheriff.”
She cocked an eyebrow.
“Sorry. To belittle you.”
“I know what the word means, teacher. I ain’t illiterate.”
Jayne sighed. He was doing very badly with this woman.
She untied the sorrel and swung into the saddle, with a little help from the mounting block. “Let me know if you need anything.”
“Is there a hardware store?”
“They got some lumber out to the mill—about a mile that way.” She pointed out past the school. “They’ll deliver it to the mercantile if you ask Pete to get it for you, and he has hammers, nails, and such there at the store. What you need it for?”
“I’d like to build a bookcase for the house.”
“I can save you that trouble. There’s one my Pa made setting to home with no books in it. I’ll fetch it over to you this evening.”
“That is most generous of you. But I’d be happy to pick it up and save you the trip.”
“Better I bring it over to you,” she replied tersely. “No call for you to come to the house.”
Jayne recognized that she didn’t want to tell him where she lived. The realization brought a rush of mixed emotions—anger ... amusement ... regret.
“Sure. If it will make you feel more comfortable,” he muttered, toying with the bell pull.
“It ain’t a question of what I’d like,” replied Starr, her green eyes raking him from hat to boots, “it’s a question of what’s proper. Hard enough being a single, female sheriff in this town without giving them too much to talk about.”
He understood her motivation, but he didn’t have to like it. A little female companionship would be most welcome in this wilderness.
“I got to get to work. Can you find your way back to the house from here?”
“I believe so,” he answered, amused that she felt there would be any chance of getting lost in the desolation between the school and the little one room house.
* * * *
Later that evening, after a trip to the mercantile where he spent more than he liked of the fifty dollars remaining from his father’s estate, Jayne sat down to a solitary dinner. The little house felt a bit cozier in the light of the lamp, but it was still missing the small touches that made it seem like a home. He tried to concentrate on the volume of poetry he was reading, but the words were just blurs on the page. Instead, his mind conjured a red-haired vixen with flashing green eyes. He wondered what it would be like to kiss that upturned nose, caress those firm breasts...
Once again, he felt his cock reacting to the thought of Starr. It’s been far too long since you’ve had a woman. He shook his head ruefully.
There was a knock at the door that put paid to his fantasies. He moved to answer it and was astonished to see Starr framed in the opening. “I thought you were trying to avoid talk,” he blurted out.
She grinned sheepishly. “I figgered there would be less talk if I came here than if you went there. ‘Sides...what do I care if people talk?”
He could hear the defiance in her voice, but sensed she would care—very much.
“Come on in before anyone catches you,” he urged, stepping back out of the way.
“That there bookcase is in the wagon.” She pointed over her shoulder.
He brought it into the house and set it in a place of honor. “Thank you so much for lending it to me.”
“Think of it as one of them there housewarming presents.”
“But you said your father made it—he might not want to part with it.”
“Pa’s dead.”
Something about the flat tone in which the fact was given told him now was not the time to ask questions.
“I was just having a bite of dinner. Have you eaten?” He gestured toward the table. “There’s plenty for two.” It was a lie, but he didn’t want her to leave.
“I am a mite peckish...but you only got one chair.”
“You take the chair. I’ll sit on the bed.” He reached for the soup ladle, and Starr stopped him with a hand on his arm.
“Why don’t we both sit on the bed for a spell?” she asked in a husky voice, eyes bright and cheeks flushed. She perched on the edge of the counterpane and patted the bed beside her.
He wasn’t used to a woman being so bold, but it didn’t displease him. Sitting next to Starr was precisely what he wanted to do. Something about this girl made every nerve in his body tingle.
Jayne sank down beside her on the bed. “I don’t want you to get the wrong impression, Sheriff Prescott—”
“I thought I told you to call me Starr.”
“Starr—you are—”
“Hush up and kiss me.”
Jayne blinked. Despite the fact he would like nothing better, he was used to taking the lead in such affairs.
“Don’t you want to?”
“That’s hardly the point...”
“Seems like exactly the point to me. Either you do or you don’t.” She rose to her feet, a pretty flush blooming in her cheeks.
He reached up and caught her hand. “Starr—”
She was the most desirable woman he had ever met—none of the citified pretension of the girls he had met at school. And so vulnerable as she lowered her eyes and bit her lip.
“Of course I want to kiss you, Starr...but it is generally the man who asks.”
“I know...but you’re—you—you just smell so damn good,” she blurted out, the words spilling forth in a rush.
He blinked. “Excuse me?”
If anything, her blush deepened. “I know. It’s stupid. But most of the men ‘round here smell of stables and sweat. You smell...” Her little nose wrinkled, and he saw her chest heave with a deep breath. “You smell like soap and starch.”
Jayne laughed. He simply couldn’t help himself. “Thank you. I think.”
“I’ll be going now.”
He tugged gently on the hand he held, and drew her onto his lap. “You’re not going anywhere,” he replied firmly, and he gave her the kiss she’d asked for.
Her lips were soft under his, surprisingly so for a woman who spent so much of her time outdoors. Warm, and tasting of cinnamon and chicory.
The kiss deepened. He knocked at her closed lips with the tip of his tongue and they parted for him. Tentatively, he explored her mouth, feeling a surge of arousal as her tongue met his and began its own exploration.
Without conscious thought, his hand slipped to cup her firm breast beneath the rough fabric of her shirt. She felt so good ... warm and alive. He unbuttoned the top button of her shirt, and ran the back of his hand across the smooth skin of her breast.
Starr moaned, deep in her throat, the sound hungry and full of longing. Her arms tightened around him.
Jayne eased her back onto the bed. He broke the kiss with a ragged sigh. “Starr—”
“Just kiss me,” she breathed, pulling him down on top of her. “Teach me something I don’t know...”
He sat up enough to unbutton the rest of her shirt, laying it open like the leaves of a book. Her breasts were firm, nut-brown on the tops and white as milk where her shirt normally covered the warm skin. He bent and paid homage to the rosebud nipples gracing each. She arched and purred like a kitten, pushing her breast against his face.
Jayne shed his own shirt, and she reached up, running her fingers through the tufts of golden curls nestling there. The sensation sent a shiver of delight from his scalp to his toes. His cock surged against its confinement.
“What do you want me to teach you, Starr?” he murmured, eyes searching her face.
The flush rose once more in her cheeks—she was sure one to show her emotions. “I—I want you to make love to me, Teacher. I ain’t never said that to any one afore. Now, I ain’t saying I ain’t never had sex afore, but that was different.”
A flash of unaccountable jealousy ran through him. Her past was none of his concern. They had only just met. She was a healthy young woman in a rough and tumble world. What would have been considered loose morals in the straight-laced East were probably normal mores here in the wild, wild West.
“Well, it weren’t my idea,” she huffed, propping herself up on her elbows. “Pa done married me to the man to keep him in line.”
Jayne leapt from the bed, ardor dashed. “Married?” There were some lines he wouldn’t cross.
Starr bit her lip. “It weren’t like a real marriage, and it didn’t last long anyhow.”
“What happened?”
She sat up, gathered her shirt together and began to button it, her fingers shaking. “He kilt my Pa. I kilt him back.”
He sank down on the bed beside her, capturing her fluttering hands in his. “Starr—”
“I shouldn’t have come here.” Her voice was low and rapid. “This was all a mistake.”
“Starr...” His hand reached out to touch her copper curls. “You are so beautiful.”
She looked up at him, and her green eyes were swimming in tears. “You think I’m beautiful?” she whispered.
“Oh, yes.” He bent and kissed her again. “Can we start over?”
She looked down at her shirt, half re-buttoned, and then gave it a sharp jerk. Buttons flew in all directions. “Takes too long the other way,” she said with an impish grin.
In a matter of minutes, the rest of their clothing lay pooled on the floor beside the bed. Jayne looked down at her slim, taut body, lean and hard-muscled from her rigorous lifestyle. The copper fire of her hair was mirrored in the valley of her sex. She was so tiny and perfect...
Starr cocked her head, looking up at him with that come-hither smile. “You just gonna look all night?”
His member was an iron bar jutting from his groin, and he grinned back. “No. No, I don’t think so.”
He climbed onto the bed beside her and dropped a light trail of kisses from the crown of her head to the juncture of her thighs. His tongue flicked between the folds of her sex, tasting the exotic nectar of her innermost secrets. The scent of her—that cinnamon and musk aroma, filled his nostrils, and he moaned aloud.
The sound translated into a burr of movement against her sensitive flesh, and Starr echoed his moan.
“Take me now, Teacher—please.”
He eased the tip of his cock between her folds and hissed with pleasure. She fit him like a second skin. He pushed forward slowly, savoring every centimeter of contact. At last, he could not hold back. He buried himself to the hilt in the sheath of her. She bucked beneath him, her hands raking his back.
He moaned again, unable to stop himself. The sensations surging through every fiber of his being set his nerves on fire. Starr whimpered in pleasure, rising up to meet each thrust. They rode the waves higher and higher until at last they crested together with a mutual cry of delight.
He rolled to the side, lying on his back and staring at the white-washed ceiling of the little house. “That was spectacular, Starr.”
She snuggled against him. “I knew you could teach me a thing or two.”
He kissed the top of her head. “I think the feeling is mutual,” he said with a chuckle. “But I bet there are more lessons you could learn.”
“Right now, I’m a might interested in history...like, how did you come to be in this here hellhole?”
“My father died about a month ago, carriage accident. His lawyer called me to the office to give me the news that I was now a pauper, and if I didn’t find work soon, I’d be out on the street.”
“That’s terrible. Sorry for your loss.”
Jayne shrugged. “It’s funny...I always thought it would hurt more that he was gone...but it really just was inconvenient. I guess we were never really very close.”
“So how’d you come to be here?” Starr repeated.
Jayne thought back to the meeting with the lawyer. The scene re-played in his head.
“Come in, come in, Jayne,” Burnhardt called jovially, rising from behind his desk like a breaching whale, but not stepping forward. “We have matters of great import to discuss.”
Jayne stepped into the office and shut the door. “You said you needed to go over Father’s estate...?” The question lingered in the air.
“Yes...yes, I do. Sit down.”
Jayne sank down on the client chair, nervously fiddling with the hat that had been Father’s final gift—a graduation token. “What is it you need to say?”
“I understand you have recently received your teaching degree.”
“Yes, sir. That is correct.”
“Excellent. Have you a position lined up?”
Jayne hesitated briefly, then plunged ahead, “Well, I have applied to Einsbrook Academy. I hope to hear back from them any day now.”
“I see.” The lawyer frowned and leaned forward on the desk with a sigh, hands clasped across the blotter. “There's no easy way to put this, Jayne... The truth is, you can’t afford to wait for Einsbrook Academy to decide whether or not you have a position. You need work immediately to survive.”
Jayne sighed. “When I went to see Father’s lawyer, he told me Father died owing money to an amazing number of creditors. His illness ate up any reserves he once possessed, and the house was heavily mortgaged. It had to be sold to pay the remainder of his debts. Apparently, Father didn’t want me worrying about such things, because he was very diligent in keeping me ignorant of these facts.”
“Must have been some shock,” Starr commented, resting chin in hand as she looked down at him.
“A bit, I assure you,” Jayne chuckled. The memory had lost its sting now that he was here in Temptation—with its living personification of the name in his bed. “He told me the bank was generously giving me to the end of the week to remove my things from the house, but then I would be on the streets unless I found a position at once.”
“And this lawyer was the gent who I sent a letter to?”
“As it happens, he was. He apologized for Temptation being ‘the back of beyond’ but assured me the offer of a house of my own with twenty dollars a month plus meals was too good to turn down.”
“And it is, too. Last teacher only got fifteen a month, but I made them raise it. Hoping to keep the next one longer.” She winked at him.
“You had no way of knowing who would respond...what made the last teacher leave in a hurry?” Jayne asked suspiciously.
“Seems she decided this was a little too close to Hell for her tastes and went home to Mama.” Starr’s face twisted into a rueful frown. “I thought I had me a good friend there, but she hasn’t even sent a postcard back.”
Something in her tone bespoke a hurt that made Jayne want to comfort. He sat up in the bed and reached for her. She came into his arms with a smile.
This time, their lovemaking was slower. Jayne explored every inch of her body with eyes, lips, hands...feasting on her. Starr reciprocated with an enthusiasm Jayne found strangely compelling. They worked themselves around, head to foot, placing new horizons before hungry eyes. When he found himself gazing admiringly at the fiery curls nestled between her legs, he dipped his head down to taste again. This time, their juices were mixed, and the smell of himself on her was intensely arousing. As he lapped at her cunt, he felt Starr’s hot mouth close on his organ, and drew in a hiss of surprise.
He shifted a bit to give her better access, moaning as she began to lave the shaft with her tongue. He felt himself stiffening as she worked her magic, and could hear her moans as well.
When he could feel the tension mounting to the inevitable outcome, he tried to break away from her and reverse their positions, but she pulled harder on his cock. He gave in and redoubled his efforts, nipping gently at the tiny bud of her clit. As his seed roared out of him into the waiting vessel of her throat, he tasted a wash of fresh juices from her inner depths, and felt her spasms of release.
Spent, he gasped for breath, and crawled to the head of the bed. Starr blinked hooded eyes at him, her hair struggling free of its confinement to frame her face in damp copper curls. He had never met anyone to compare with this Western siren.
She grinned at him. “Now that was a proper lesson, Teacher.”
“Are you ever going to call me anything but ‘Teacher’?”
A delicate flush started on her bosom and worked its way up her throat to her cheeks. “I just can’t bring myself to call so down-right delectably manly a man ‘Jayne.’ I-it’s a girl’s name. How’d you come to be stuck with it anyhow?”
He threw back his head and laughed. “Jane was my grandmother’s name. My mother had already promised her to name the baby after her, and the mere fact I was a boy wasn’t going to stop her. She added the ‘y’ because she thought it might look more masculine. Still had to do my share of setting people straight over the years though.” He remembered with satisfaction the schoolyard bully whose nose would forever lean a bit to the left after meeting his fist a time or two.
“What about I call you, Jay? Is that a fitting compromise?”
He dropped a kiss on her nose. “Suits me fine. I left Jayne in the ivy-covered house back East, I reckon,” he drawled.
Starr giggled. “Good enough.”
“What about you? How did you get the name Starr?”
“Ain’t it obvious? My pa was sheriff, and his pa afore him. Been a Prescott sheriff of this town as long as there has been a Temptation. Ma died afore she could speak up on the matter, so Pa figured he’d name me after the thing that meant the most to him—his badge.”
Jayne shook his head with a chuckle. “Well, I think it’s entirely appropriate, however it came to be.”
She sighed, and planted a kiss on his lips. “I should be heading home, Teach—Jay. It’s getting late.”
He hugged her to him, whispering into her curls, “I know...but I wish you didn’t have to go.”
She kissed him again and then broke away from the embrace. “I’ll be back. But I’ve got to see to the transport of a prisoner in the morning. Duty before delight, as my pa always said.”
He frowned. Her work had seemed exotic and adventurous when they were just talking about it—but confronted with the reality, it seemed downright dangerous. “A little thing like you transporting a criminal?”
She threw back her head with a peal of laughter. “I make sure he gets on the stage—with my six foot four inch three hundred pound deputy watching him.” She winked again. “I may be foolhardy, but I ain’t stupid.”
Crawling over him, she began to gather up her clothing and slip into it as best she could.
“Darn fool thing to do, scattering the buttons like that,” she admonished herself, looking down at the unfastened shirt. “Good thing it is dark out.”
He sat up and snaked his own shirt off the floor, tossing it to her. “Here, take mine. Roll up the sleeves, and it won’t look too bad in the dark. I have plenty—or will when my trunk gets here.”
“That ain’t come yet? I told them no-account idjits at the stage depot to make sure it got over here afore dark.”
“I’m sure they’ll deliver it soon,” he soothed, rising to his feet and stretching.
“You keep doing that and I may just have to pop back into bed.” Starr buttoned the shirt and tucked it into the waistband of her skirt. “There. At least I’m a mite more respectable.”
He pulled on his pants and picked up the lantern from the table. “I’ll show you out.”
“Ain’t like I can’t see the door,” she said with a smile.
“A gentleman doesn’t let a lady leave unescorted.”
“I don’t know how gentleman-like you are, but I sure ain’t no lady.”
But she made no further protest as he went to open the door for her. The trunk was propped against the side of the house.
“Oh, Lord,” moaned Starr, shaking her head. “That weren’t here when I drove up. Now everyone in town will know I was visiting the teacher of an evening.”
“Is that a bad thing?”
“Guess we’ll soon see,” she replied with a shrug. She heaved herself up onto the seat of the wagon. “Have a nice night, Teacher.”
Clicking her tongue at the patient horse, she turned the wagon and headed into the night. Jayne watched her go until the wagon was completely swallowed by the darkness.
With a sigh, he slung the trunk up to his shoulder and carried it into the tiny house. He would need some way to hang his clothes, or he’d be a poor example to his students in wrinkled trousers.
For tonight, he contented himself with arranging the books in the bookcase and setting out the few trinkets he had salvaged from the house—a pair of silver candlesticks that had been in his Mother’s dowry; his Father’s magnifying glass and the stereopticon with its prized box of slides. He shook out the clothes in the trunk and refolded what could be stored flat, using the lower shelf of the bookcase for temporary storage. The clothes that should hang, he draped on the back of his chair for the night. Tomorrow, he’d see about that lumber order.
Suddenly, there was a pounding on his front door. Startled, he moved to open it, and a breathless Starr fell into his arms. “Go ring the bell!” she gasped. “My house is afire.”
He sat her down in the chair and sprinted up the hill toward the school. Hoping he didn’t trip and break an ankle in the dark, he squinted ahead of him through the gloom. There was the white frame building, glowing softly in the starlight.
The bell hung motionless from its supports. Jayne stumbled the last few yards to it, out of breath from the dash, and grabbed the bell-rope. He hauled on it with all his strength, setting the heavy clapper dancing.
He could hear voices in the night as people left their houses to see what the noise was about. “Fire at the sheriff’s house!” he shouted at the top of his lungs. “Fire!”
He heard the clang of the fire wagon as it began its journey, and realized he didn’t even know where Starr’s house was. Would the crew get there in time? Had he delayed things by his unfamiliarity with the terrain? Was there a quicker path to take to the critical bell?
He jerked the rope harder, mindlessly ringing the bell. Until a hand on his arm made him start.
“That’s done it, Jay. Whole town is on their way over to the house. If anything can be saved, it will.”
“What happened, Starr?” he asked, taking her in his arms and hugging her tight. “My God—if you had been caught inside...”
“I think that's just what someone wanted to have happen,” she replied grimly. “It was already blazing when I drove up. I smelt kerosene clear to the barn, and I saw a bar across the door. Good thing I was at your place, or I would probably been burnt alive. Unless the no-good varmint shot me first trying to get out a window or something.”
“Who would do a thing like this?”
“Could be any one of a dozen folk. Sheriff is never a popular person with the elements who like this sort of thing...and a lady sheriff is twice as bad.”
“Should we go help with the fire?”
She shook her head, the motion barely visible in the dim starlight. “No call to. I could tell the house would be a total loss. I do hope they can keep it from spreading to the barn though. More worried about the neighbors. A fire in this heat can be devastating.”
“Let me make you some coffee.”
“That would be right nice,” she sighed, laying her head against his chest. “I don’t know how I feel about this...everything that meant anything to me in the world yesterday is in that house. Now, that stuff don’t seem too important anymore.” She glanced up at him. “Not as long as I have you.”
Jayne felt a surge of emotion wash through him. Yes, it was fast—probably too fast—but he felt the same way about the woman in his arms. He had known her less than a day. He didn’t really know her at all, to be honest with himself. But she had captured him body and soul with those glittering green eyes and that impish smile.
“Let’s get you that coffee,” he said softly, leaving his arm about her waist as he turned her toward the house.
When they were settled in the tiny cottage again, Starr on the chair and Jayne sitting on the trunk, with steaming cups of passable coffee in front of them, Jayne reached over and took her hand.
“You said it could be anybody, but you have somebody in mind, don’t you?”
She looked down into the cup. “Yeah. I got a pretty good idea.”
“Who is it?”
She sighed heavily. “Remember the prisoner I told you about? The one being transported in the morning?”
“Yes.”
“Well, he’s the middle of three brothers who used to think of this as their town. Eldest one went and got himself killed by a certain sheriff he married. Baby is out to see that the sheriff pays for breaking up their happy home.”
“So this brother is likely to be coming after you?”
“He’s tried it afore, but nothing this bad.”
“Are you in danger?”
“I’m the sheriff,” she said with a shrug.
Jayne shook his head. “I hate to think about it.”
“It’s what I do. Maybe not what I wanted, but what I am stuck with.”
He reached over and took the cup out of her hands, setting it on the table. He pulled her to her feet and led her to the bed.
Starr dug in her heels and pulled against him. “Jay...I don’t want
to—”
“Hush. You need rest. Your house is unavailable. All I want to do is get you to sleep.”
“I’ll go to the Dew Drop Inn or Maisie’s. Someone will have a room.”
“There’s a perfectly good bed right over here.”
“People will talk—”
“Let them.” He stopped pulling and took her into his arms. “I know it is crazy, Starr, but I don’t want to lose you. If it means I have to marry you to protect you, I guess I’ll have to do that.”
She stared at him and then burst into laughter. “Marry me? Teacher, you are teched in your head.”
“Nope. I am seeing clearly for the first time in a long time.”
Starr sighed heavily, shaking her head. “I cain’t even think about that now. Maybe tomorrow. But I am a might tired. I’ll just lie down for a minute or two.”
He settled her on the bed and pulled off her boots, massaging her feet until she purred like a kitten. “That feels good. Melting every bone in my body.”
“That’s the plan. Anything to make you relax.” Jayne grinned at her. “Now, you rest.” He pulled the quilt over her, tucking it beneath her chin.
She blinked up at him. “What are you going to do?” she murmured, stifling a yawn. “There’s only one bed.”
“I’ll make do,” Jayne replied, patting her hand. “Sleep.”
Her eyes drifted shut, and Jayne studied her face. There was a streak of soot on one cheek, and she looked pale and exhausted. A little slip of a girl like this was not cut out to be sheriff, no matter how hard she tried.
Tiptoeing across to the door, Jayne eased it open and stepped into the night. There was no way he was going to sleep tonight. Maybe he could be some help.
Jayne smelled smoke on the breeze, and the firehouse was dark. He followed his nose past the school to the wide prairie beyond the town boundaries. The sound of shouts and a roaring fire directed him to the shell of a large wooden house engulfed in flames. It had been an impressive two-story building from the skeletal framework remaining. Jayne could see the house was a complete loss, as Starr had said. A barn loomed ghostly across the yard, and so far, it seemed spared. Jayne could see buckets of water were being tossed upon both house and barn. He stepped into the line of men passing buckets and pitched in.
“Who are you?” growled the man to his left suspiciously.
“New teacher, Jay Kincaid.” He made the alteration to his name without even thinking about it.
“Good to meet you.” The man passed him a dripping bucket and nodded toward the next man in line. “Pass that on to Mark there. I’m Zeke Barstow. Have five of your students in my house.”
Jayne passed along the bucket, managing to slosh only a third of the water to the ground.
“Takes a bit to get the rhythm,” commented the man on his right. “Mark Fielding here. Got six kids myself.”
Jayne took another bucket from Zeke and passed it to Mark. This time he managed not to spill any appreciable amount.
Mark grinned at him, teeth glowing white in a face covered with soot. “You’re a fast learner. That’s good in a teacher, ain’t it?”
Jay laughed. It felt good to pitch in and be part of something. This might not be such a bad town to put down roots after all.
It was dawn before the last of the embers were declared out. A pile of drenched, smoking charred lumber sent a throat-clogging stench of burnt wood into the clear morning air. It was already warm, and the sun had barely cleared the horizon.
Jayne eased his aching back.
“Come down to the firehouse for a cup of coffee,” Zeke offered. “It’s rough the first time.”
Jayne nodded. “I don’t see how you can do this night after night.”
“Well, not too many fires in these parts, really. This one was probably set by someone. Poor little gal. She don’t deserve something like this.”
“Starr? Sheriff Prescott?” he corrected himself.
“Yep. She has had nothing but heartache from the day her mama died in childbirth. Her daddy did his best, but trying to settle his feud with the Corrigon boys by marrying her to Clive was a terrible thing to do. And when Clive shot her daddy in front of her, well, no one really blamed her for shooting him back. Seth tried to raise a ruckus about it, but there were three witnesses to what happened.”
“Seth is...?”
“Seth is the youngest boy. Duncan is the one in the jailhouse now. He used his fists instead of his mouth. Tried to punch the sheriff in the jaw over to Maisie’s the other day. She’s a wiry little thing. Managed to trip him up and get him under control before two of the deputies showed up to haul him in.”
“Seems like a dangerous job for a lady.”
“Yep. Starr was all set to be a teacher herself. She loves books and learning. She was head of her class when she was in school. Likes to talk tough and pretend to be hard-nosed, but she’d rather be curled up with a book any day.”
Jayne rocked back on his heels. This was interesting information. No wonder she had looked so longingly at the teacher’s desk at the schoolhouse.
“Why didn’t she let someone else take over the Sheriff’s office?”
“Sheer stubborn pride if you ask me,” commented Mark. “There’s been a Prescott heading that jail since there has been a Temptation. She feels responsible for the whole damn town.”
“And no chance for what she wants?”
“How many schoolmarms are sheriffs?” Zeke scoffed. “She has to be one or t’other. Cain’t have it both ways.”
Jayne saw again the wistful look on Starr’s face as she trailed her hand up the row of school desks. Maybe he could help her reach her dream. Surely there was someone else who could be sheriff. Though if Starr became a teacher, Temptation wouldn’t need his services...
Well, it wouldn’t be tomorrow, whatever happened.
He followed the firefighters back to the firehouse and accepted a cup of coffee gratefully. The aromatic steam rising from the liquid refreshed his tired senses. Its bitter darkness traced a line of warmth down to his belly. This was not the genteel beverage laced with cream and sugar that had been a staple of his father’s breakfast table. This was raw-boned strength. It fit the Texas town.
Finishing the coffee, he set the cup down on the long dining table dominating the firehouse. “Guess it is time I was getting home,” he said, rising to his feet. “Thanks for letting me participate.”
Zeke grinned at him. “Always glad to have another able-bodied man on the line.” He held out a soot-covered hand, and Jayne shook it. It felt good to belong.
As he stepped next door to his own house, Jayne glanced around him with a new appreciation for the tiny town. The early morning sun gilded the buildings with a warm golden glow that was almost magical. It was a town living up to its name. Here was a Temptation to settle down and make a new life for himself. And it all centered around a five foot nothing spitfire waiting for him in his bed.
He eased open the front door of the house a crack and peered into the dimness. Starr was where he had left her, curled up like a child under the worn quilt. With her hair tousled from sleep, she looked impossibly young.
Jayne slipped into the house, sitting on the chair and easing off his shoes. He’d need to replace the low-topped footwear with some proper boots. Zeke had pointed out there were a lot of snakes at fire scenes sometimes, and if he intended to help the firefighters on a regular basis, he needed protection.
Glancing over at Starr once more, he wondered just how long ago she had finished school. So much had happened to her in so brief a time...
He padded over to the bed in his stocking feet and adjusted the coverlet around her. He wanted to protect her for the rest of his days. She deserved someone looking out for her for a change.
As he stood gazing down at her, she stirred and blinked her eyes sleepily. “Howdy there, Teacher,” she murmured. “Anything left?”
“The house is gone, but they did manage to save the barn.” He yawned and ran a hand over his face.
She patted the bed beside her. “Come and lie down a spell. You’re all worn out.”
He shucked out of his trousers and socks and climbed onto the bed.
Starr lifted the quilt for him to crawl under. “If we do set about making this a more permanent arrangement, you’ve got to get a bigger bed,” she teased.
“Does that mean...?”
“I said if, Teacher. Don’t go getting your hopes up yet.”
Jayne settled next to her, holding her against his chest spoon-fashion. He breathed in her ear, “I think the Sheriff is overdressed.”
Suddenly, Starr sat bolt upright. “I think the Sheriff is about to miss the stage! Sorry, Teacher, but I have work to do. I got to get Duncan on that stage.” She scrambled out of bed and snatched up her boots. As she danced on one foot trying to get into them, Jayne propped himself on one elbow.
“I thought the stage rolled in at noon.”
“It does, but there is a passel of paperwork and so forth to do before then to make sure everything is legal and such.”
“Want some help?”
“Naw, you get some rest. Me and the boys can handle it fine. I’ll be at the jail the rest of the day if you want to come over about noon time and get some vittles at Maisie’s.”
“That sounds right nice,” drawled Jayne with a grin.
She scowled at him. “My grammar might not be up to your East coast standards, Mr. Kincaid, but I do know how to speak correctly if I need to. Most of the time, I just don’t bother out here. What’s the point?”
He ducked his head to evade the fire in her eyes. “I’m sorry, Starr. I wasn’t trying to make fun of you.”
“Well, we didn’t all get to go to a high-faluting teachers’ college, remember.” She wrenched open the door. “Thank you for your hospitality, Mr. Kincaid. I think it would be better if I booked a room at the Dew Drop in future.”
As she slammed the door behind her, Jayne dropped back into the bed with a groan. He was in for it now. One thing he had learned back East was that there was nothing harder than winning back a woman who thought you had wronged her, but he was sure going to try.
Right after a few hours sleep. His eyes closed of their own accord, and soon he fell into a dream...
He stood before Starr’s burning house, but instead of the fear it had instilled in him the night before, it was the personification of raw energy and power. He held Starr in his arms, but they were alone under a sky shimmering with stars. There were no firefighters, no spectators, no outlaws skulking in the shadows—and no clothes.
Her skin glowed ruddy in the firelight, her hair a nimbus of copper sparks. She took his breath away.
Gently, he laid her down on the dry grass of the door yard, and instead of the sharp, brittle spikes he knew it to be, it was soft as velvet beneath them. He stretched out beside her, gazing into those sparkling eyes of hers, and he felt himself drawn into a kiss that seemed to stretch to infinity.
He fed upon her mouth, playing tag with her tongue. Nipping gently, he broke the kiss at last and let his lips caress her flesh in a series of fleeting touches from her throat down to her upright nipples. He took each in turn into his mouth, teasing them until he had her arching against him, whimpering for more.
He felt his cock twitching against her thigh as it grew aroused in turn. It was a building ache deep inside him, and he needed her more than he had ever needed or desired a woman in his life.
Shifting to place its tip against the entrance of her secret valley, he slid forward slowly, bringing a growl of frustration from Starr. Her hands scrabbled against his back, striving to draw him deeper, but he held his pace. It was sheer torture. Infinite sensation doled out with excruciating deliberation. But it was an exquisite fire that matched the inferno raging behind them for intensity.
He felt his pelvis contact the soft curls of her mound, and knew he could go no further—and yet he did—one more fraction deeper that made Starr cry out and rake his back with her nails. The resultant pleasure/pain sent him over the edge, and he drove into her tight sheath, spiraling upward and upward on cresting waves of sensation.
Starr bucked beneath him, cries and whimpers of pleasure rising into the night like the smoke from the fire. Finally, with a scream of release that echoed his own, she arched against him and then collapsed into the soft grass.
Blinking up at him in sated satisfaction, she purred, “A girl could get used to this, teacher-man.”
He surely did hope so...
Jayne started awake. He had some convincing to do.
He moved to sit up, and fell back with a groan. Every muscle in his body hurt, especially his back and shoulders. He hadn’t realized the strain at the time, while slinging the water buckets. How did the fire fighters do it? He was going to have to get into better shape if he wanted to help them on a regular basis.
Rolling off the bed, he managed to drag himself upright and limp to the bowl and pitcher on the dresser. He poured some of the lukewarm water into the basin and washed his face free of as much of the soot from last night’s adventure as he could see. Glancing at the bed, he saw smudges of black on the sheets. He grinned ruefully. He was going to have to find out where to get a bath in this town—and a laundry facility. Amazing how much he had taken for granted in his father’s house.
Jayne pulled on fresh clothes and cut himself a slab from the loaf in the breadbox. It was already beginning to go stale. He would need to revise his shopping habits too, he supposed.
Munching on the bread, he stepped out into the morning sunshine. From the angle of the shadows, it was not yet noon. He checked his impression against his father’s pocket watch. Yes, not quite eleven. The stage would be in soon. And Starr’s prisoner should be going out on it.
Maybe he’d just meander on over and watch. He had no idea what good he could do if there were trouble, but at least he’d be there to try. Not that he’d ever had much call to deal with guns in his sedate lifetime. He had some idea which end to point at a troublemaking outlaw...but as far as loading it with bullets or firing it...well, as Mark had said, he was a fast learner.
He could stop over at the mercantile and see if Pete had something he could learn with. Every man in these parts needed a six-shooter. And a pair of boots. Maybe even a hat. Though he’d be almost out of money...perhaps he could find an odd job or two until school started.
He had been walking as he worked this out, and now found himself standing outside the general store. Jayne stepped up onto the wooden sidewalk and opened the door. There was a tinkle from the brass bell suspended over the entryway, and Pete Flannagan came from the back to greet him.
“Back so soon, I see,” said the Irishman with a grin. “Were you forgetting something yesterday, Mr. Kincaid?”
“Well, Pete, I tell you. I think I need a pair of boots for starters. And I was thinking...maybe I should have a pistol of some kind.”
Flannagan clicked his teeth and shook his head. “Now what would a teacher such as yourself be needing a weapon for? ‘Tis better to let those who know what they are about to truck with such things.”
“I’d just feel better knowing I could defend myself.”
“Well, if you are determined to shoot your own foot off, this is a right nice piece.” Flannagan reached under the counter and pulled out a revolver. He broke it open and showed it to Jayne. “Quick action, but not a hair-trigger. I’ll throw in a box of ammunition with it for ten dollars.”
Jayne winced. Maybe not a hat. “I’ll take it,” he replied with a sigh. “What will the boots set me back?”
Flannagan glanced at his feet. “Luckily for you, you appear to have average feet. I think I have a pair in stock that might do you. Will be another five dollars.”
Jayne counted out fifteen dollars from his shrinking purse.
Flannagan pocketed the money, and spent the next twenty minutes showing the teacher how to load and clean the pistol. He put the box of bullets and the cleaning gear into a flour sack for Jayne, and threw in a worn holster rig he insisted, “came with the gun.” He helped Jayne settle it in place and tie it down. “Now, I hope you don’t try to go and quick draw that gun without a mite of practice,” the shopkeeper warned.
“I don’t intend to draw it at all till I learn how to use it,” promised Jayne. Thanking Flannagan again, he stepped back into the sun-drenched street.
Heat waves shimmered in the distance, and Jayne regretted not having the money for the hat, though his feet felt comfortable in the new boots. He strolled down to the squat, windowless jail.
Might as well go on in since he was here. Jayne pushed at the door, and blinked against the shadows of the interior. “Hello?”
A bullet whizzed past his ear, and Jayne dove out of the doorway, rolling behind the deputy’s battered desk. Heart thudding in his chest, he heard a muffled grunt of pain, and then Starr’s breathless shout, “Get out of here, Jay!”
There was the smack of a hand on flesh, and a whimper from Starr. Jayne’s blood boiled. He drew his gun out of the holster and quietly eased it open. The chambers were filled. Locking the cylinder back into place as Flannagan had taught him, he rested the barrel on the edge of the desk. “Who’s there?”
“This ain’t none of your concern, teacher-man. Just get on out of here. I have business with the sheriff.” The voice was young, still cracking on certain words, and shaking to boot.
Jayne’s mind raced. “Seth? Seth Corrigon?” he guessed.
“Never you mind who I am, teacher-man. You run on along. Me and my brother are taking the sheriff for a little trip.”
“I can’t let you do that, Seth.”
“I don’t see how it’s any concern o’yourn, teacher-man.”
Jayne squinted at the shadows, trying to pinpoint the boy’s position. His eyes were beginning to adjust to the dim interior. His heart lurched when he saw the crumpled figure in the corner. He knew she was alive a moment ago...he had to trust that fact and focus on the matter at hand.
Seth Corrigon was fumbling through a bunch of keys before a jail cell. A hulking figure inside the cell gestured impatiently for the keys.
“Just give ‘em to me, idjit. I’ll do it myself,” growled the prisoner.
That must be Duncan Corrigon. Where were the deputies? Starr shouldn’t have been alone. She had said one of the men was scheduled to ride with Duncan in the stage.
“I’ll get it, Duncan!” Seth protested, rattling the keys some more.
Jayne wracked his brains. There had to be some way to stall the prison break. He slowly rose to his feet—and a bullet cracked within inches of his head. Seth might be clumsy with keys, but he was a pretty good shot. Jayne felt sure he had missed on purpose.
Diving back behind the desk, Jayne pondered the situation further. If only he could get to Starr. If he knew she was all right, he could think more clearly.
He eased back around the desk. From here, he could see Starr laying half behind her own desk only three feet away. He dove across the gap, rolling behind the new cover.
Catching his breath, he grinned ruefully to himself. He could get good at this if he kept it up...
Leaning over to Starr, he grabbed her shoulders and pulled her fully behind the desk. She groaned, and he helped her sit up.
She raised a shaking hand to her head. “What happened?”
“Seth’s trying to break Duncan out of jail,” he answered under his breath. “Luckily, he seems to be having a bit of trouble with the keys.”
Starr reached for her revolver. “Damnation. They stole my gun.”
“Here. Take mine.” He handed her his pistol.
She did a double take. “Where—?”
“We’ll talk about it later.” He kissed her hard. “Do your job.”
She cleared the edge of the desk and squeezed off a shot. There was a cry of pain and a rattle of keys falling to the hard-packed floor.
“Throw your gun over to the door, Seth, and kick them keys this way. Behave yourself, and you can go on over to the county seat with Duncan.”
“No, give me the gun, Seth. I’ll take care of that little bitch,” Duncan growled from the cell, reaching out through the bars.
Seth looked from one to the other, an expression of indecision on his face. Jayne could see the hesitation. The boy couldn’t be more than sixteen or seventeen, and he was wounded to boot. Blood was soaking the sleeve of his rough-spun shirt.
Jayne tensed as Seth made his decision and handed the gun to his brother. He was ready to push Starr out of the way and take a bullet if he needed to.
But he had underestimated Starr. Coolly, she drew a bead on her prisoner. “Don’t make me shoot you, Duncan. So far, you ain’t done much. Hitting a sheriff ain’t nothing compared to shooting one.”
“I’ll take my chances. You kilt my brother without any call to. I figure you owe me a life.” He pulled the trigger, and both guns boomed almost simultaneously.
His bullet went wide, slamming into the wall, but Starr’s found its mark. Duncan dropped like a stone.
“Duncan!” Seth screamed, grabbing the bars and shaking them as hard as his wound would allow.
“I’m right sorry about that, Seth, but I did warn him,” Starr called. “Now, you’re a good boy at heart. I know you don’t mean to hurt no one. Let me get you patched up and we’ll send you on over to the county seat. I’ll speak to the judge for you. Make sure you’re treated fairly.”
Seth fell to his knees on the floor, sobbing as if his heart would break.
Starr handed Jayne the gun. “Keep this trained on him,” she whispered. “Don’t worry about firing straight. I don’t think you’ll need to shoot.”
Murmuring nonsense like one does to a hurt animal, she circled slowly over to where Seth knelt. “Come on, Seth,” she crooned, slipping an arm around the boy’s shaking shoulders. “Let’s get you patched up.” Awkwardly, she helped the taller boy to his feet.
Jayne watched her, his heart swelling with emotion. This was one fine lady, and smart as a whip. She shouldn’t be dealing with criminals. She should be using those strengths to be the teacher she longed to be.
Jayne holstered his weapon and moved to scoop up the keys. He opened the cell and checked Duncan’s vital signs. The man was dead.
He’d have to get Starr to teach him to shoot. Especially if he was going to take away her job.
* * * *
It took some persuading, but Starr proved a quick student, and she soaked up all the teaching tips he had to offer. And she put them all to use making him ready to assume his new position. By the time Starr became Mrs. Kincaid, Jayne was a pretty good shot. He was sworn in as sheriff the day after the wedding, and when it was time to ring in the students to class for the first day of school, it was a beaming Starr who rang the bell, ready for her first teaching session.
Jayne watched proudly as she herded the students into the schoolhouse. Things had certainly turned out differently than he expected when the lawyer had called him to his office. Thank heavens for fortune, or fate, or whatever had taken hold of his life.
He glanced down at the shiny badge pinned to his chest. Who would have guessed he’d find a Starr for the teacher?
THE END