Chapter 13

I t was finished.

Merritt leaned her hip against the auction table with the last of the sold items atop it.

Mr. Castlerock and his bank manager, Mr. Silverton, stood at the back of the dance hall, collecting money from those who had won the bid for each item. In a few moments, they would take the cash down to the bank for safekeeping.

Over the past few minutes, as the auction had wrapped up, Merritt's students had trailed to the back of the room, and now they were slipping on their costumes so the pageant could begin.

The auction, and Castlerock's matching donation, had raised enough money for the lumber and nails and roofing material to rebuild the school.

The limited funds wouldn't provide desks or materials for the students to study, but Merritt trusted God to provide those things when the time was right. She'd come to a tentative sort of peace last night, after reading Scripture and praying for God to fill the empty hole in her heart.

But watching the auction items sell, knowing that Jack had been the one to help procure them, brought back every ounce of yearning.

With a pang from her broken heart, she pushed the thoughts of Jack from her mind. Now wasn't the time.

Mr. Castlerock called out the final total, and there was a cheer from the students, followed by roaring applause from their parents.

Daniel hurried over to where Merritt stood, followed by his father in a fine suit.

"Three cheers for our intrepid schoolteacher," Daniel's father called out with his hand at his mouth to amplify the words.

Heat blasted into her cheeks as cheers rang out among children and parents, even some of the grandparents and townsfolk who'd attended. Feet stomped the floor.

She caught Mr. Castlerock's eye and he nodded to her. She waved. He and Mr. Silverton left with the money safe and sound, and she was left to soak up the raucous cheers.

She quieted the crowd, urging the students to finish their preparations for the pageant, and moved to the front of the room they'd designated as a stage, thoughts noodling at the back of her mind all the while.

She loved moments like these—being a teacher when the children were excited to learn and work together.

But the longing that had prompted her to send an answer to that mail-order bride ad remained. She wanted a family. Children of her own. A husband who loved her.

She wanted Jack.

Right now, she would have to lean on God's promises of comfort, promises that He would never forsake her. In time, God might change her heart.

As some of the children slipped down the aisle between the seats and stepped up onto the raised platform that was their makeshift stage, she couldn't stop the thoughts from slipping into her heart and taking hold.

She missed Jack.

Maybe he wasn't John, and maybe he'd never meant to come here at all, or to stay, but something had happened when he'd stepped off that train.

After tonight, her obligations to the children would be over for a week. There would be no school over Christmas, to allow the children to be with their families.

Was there a way Merritt could track down Jack? Find him? Talk to him?

She forced the intruding thoughts away, tried to focus. The children had worked hard memorizing lines, and she found herself mouthing the words along with them.

Until the back doors to the dance hall slammed open.

Heads turned as a hulking man in a black slicker entered.

Harriet stood in the center of the stage and faltered her line, trailing off with wide eyes.

"Where's Jack Easton?" the stranger bellowed.

Quiet murmurs broke out in the crowd, and one man, sitting on the aisle, stood up to block his progress.

"There are children?—"

Morris—because this had to be the man Jack had told Merritt and Danna about—slugged him so hard in the stomach that he collapsed to the ground. Terror streaked through Merritt. A woman screamed.

"Run," she whispered to the nearest child, gripping Clarissa's shoulder briefly. "Upstairs, quick."

She shuffled to the front of the platform, nudging and pushing each child, snapping them out of their terror so that they ran or crawled off the stage and scampered to the stairwell, half hidden on the rear wall.

It was only a modicum of safety. Upstairs was a small loft.

Morris's eyes flashed and trained on her.

Someone shouted, "Get the marshal!" from the back of the room.

Morris didn't even look at them, only flipped both sides of his coat open to reveal a pair of bone-handled revolvers strapped to his waist. A clear threat.

"Nobody leaves."

He stopped in front of her. Standing at the front corner of the stage, she was a half foot taller than him, but she was caught in his stare like a mouse trapped by the hypnotizing gaze of a cobra.

"Where's Jack?" he demanded.

"Gone." And she was glad of it.

She'd noticed the way Jack had walked out of the Carsons' home earlier, favoring his left side. And that bruise on his cheek…

She hated the man in front of her for hurting Jack.

"Then I guess you're my collateral. You're coming with me?—"

There was movement somewhere in the crowd—she caught it from her peripheral vision. Morris's head turned even as he reached for his gun with his right hand.

"Leave the lady alone. It's me you want."

Merritt gasped softly as Jack sauntered down the stairs she'd just sent her students up. He was still hatless, his shirt collar wrinkled. Smirking. An arrogant tilt to his head that she'd never seen before. This was the gambler Danna had described to Merritt.

Morris rattled off a curse word, making her jump. For a few seconds, she'd been focused on Jack, soaking up the sight of him, but her pounding heart and shaking limbs hadn't let her forget the danger lurking only feet away.

Jack's eyes flicked to somewhere in the front row of seats as his boots hit the floor. Morris took two steps toward him.

"Why don't we play a game?" Jack asked. His voice was completely calm and unruffled. Merritt realized he held a deck of cards, casually passing them between his hands with a sound like a shuffle.

Jack kept moving, slower now, toward Morris.

"I'll cut the deck once. Then you cut it."

It was only because she couldn't tear her eyes away that she saw the minute nod. Who was Jack nodding to?

"Whoever draws the higher card wins. I win, and you leave and never come back."

Morris shook his head. "I don't gamble?—"

But Jack twisted his hand, and every card in the deck flew toward Morris's face.

The split second of distraction, when the bigger man batted at the flying cards, was enough for Jack to lunge at him. A man came off the front row of chairs, tackling Morris's booted feet.

Morris was thrown off-balance, and when Jack pummeled him, he was knocked to the floor.

But he roared, and Merritt knew he wasn't done fighting yet. She was terrified he'd reach for one of his guns.

"Merritt, get outta here!" Jack grunted.

Someone pulled her off the stage, and she lost sight of the tussle.

"That's enough!" Danna's strong voice rang out, and she strode through the doors, flanked by two deputies with their guns drawn. They ran to the front, training their guns on Morris.

Danna tapped Jack's shoulder, and he sat back on his haunches as Morris put his hands over his head.

Merritt stood on trembling legs and saw the trickle of blood below Jack's nose before he wiped it away. Jack's eyes searched the crowd and settled when they caught hers.

And then one of Danna's deputies stepped between them, reaching down to disarm Morris.

Morris was shouting and swearing, and Merritt glanced at the stairs to see little feet and the hems of costumes on the top few steps. The children must be terrified.

"I'll get them," the nearest mother murmured, heading that way.

"We're gonna take this outside, you hear?" Danna said to Morris, who stood between the two deputies, expression belligerent.

Danna looked around the room and waved for Merritt to accompany them.

She trailed the three lawmen and Jack, who walked slightly in front of her with an air of tension.

He'd come back. But why?

On the boardwalk, darkness encompassed them. She shivered in the cold, having left her cape inside, but sidled next to Jack anyway.

The two deputies kept Morris between them. Danna faced him directly. "We can do this here and now, or we can do this over at the jail, with you in a cell. You threatened a young woman and caused a public disturbance."

"Ain't no need for that," Morris growled, "s'long as Jack gives me the money he owes my boss." His evil gaze flicked to Jack, and he spat in his direction. "You cheated him out of it."

Jack didn't react outwardly. "I never cheat. There were three other men at the table with us. Witnesses that I obtained my winnings fairly."

"You got a name for those men?" Danna asked.

Jack rattled off three names unfamiliar to Merritt.

"What'd you do with the money?" Danna asked.

Now there was a hesitation from Jack. "I gave it away," he finally said.

"Liar!"

One of the deputies put his hand on Morris when the man would've lunged for Jack.

"I can verify Mr. Easton's story," Danna said. "With witnesses, your boss would've known his accusation of cheating wouldn't hold water with a judge."

So he'd sent this hired muscle.

Merritt shivered again, and Jack's eyes skittered to her and then away. He shrugged out of his coat and held it out in front of him as if he needed her permission to give it to her.

As if they were strangers.

She looked at him, emotion overflowing in her eyes, and then turned to offer him her back.

There was only a beat of hesitation before he put it over her shoulders.

His familiar warmth and scent enveloped her, and she sent a prayer winging heavenward. Please let Jack have come back to stay .

Danna continued. "Seems like you've assaulted and made threats against Mr. Easton, one of the esteemed residents of my town."

Merritt felt Jack go still at those words.

Danna had claimed him as a resident of Calvin.

"It's time for you to leave," Danna said evenly. "Don't ever come back."

* * *

Jack stood on the boardwalk with the woman he loved beside him, cold air cutting through his shirt. They remained side by side and watched Danna and her men escort Morris away.

…one of the esteemed residents of my town .

A curious numbness had stolen over him at her words.

Now, Merritt's hand slipped into his, the warmth of her palm welcome as she linked their fingers together.

And everything rushed back. He felt all of it. The overwhelming relief that Morris hadn't hurt her. That Jack had arrived in time. That Nick had been present and that Danna had come…

"How'd you get inside?" Merritt asked quietly.

He could hear the echo of muffled voices inside, knew that she must need to return to the dance hall. People were waiting on her.

But he couldn't make himself let go of her hand so she could walk back inside.

"I met up with your cousin on my way into town."

"Which one?"

"Nick. We were heading for the dance hall when we saw Morris burst inside. Nick knew about the window, and I didn't particularly want to get shot."

She tipped her head to the side, and he could only let himself glance at her for a beat. There was too much pain and joy wrapped up in this moment, and nothing was resolved between them.

"The second-story window," she said.

"That's the one. The kids were up there—it took two of the boys to pry it open. Once I made it through the window, they told me you'd sent them."

"Surely you didn't scale the side of a building."

He chuckled a little. "It's been years since I've climbed a tree, so no. But Nick has his horse trained incredibly well. He put the horse up on the boardwalk, and from the saddle, Nick was able to boost me to the windowsill."

There'd been a terrifying moment when Jack had been hanging by his fingertips from the sill as Nick's horse clomped out from underneath him. He'd been afraid he wouldn't have the strength to pull himself up into the window, but he'd heard a scream from inside, and the next thing he knew, his shoulders were in the window, and Paul was gripping the back of his trousers to pull him all the way inside.

He'd gotten lucky. He knew it.

"I'm sorry he came after you"—she'd never know how sorry—"and interrupted your special night." He'd seen the raw fear in her expression as he'd walked down the stairs.

Her hand squeezed his. "I can't believe you came back?—"

"Miss Harding."

Merritt blinked, accepting the interruption as three pairs of footsteps clomped on the boardwalk.

It was her school board members. In the dim light thrown by the open doors, Jack saw the smirk worn by Polk.

"I am sorry to say that what happened tonight has shown us clearly that you are no longer fit to be the schoolteacher of the Calvin school."

"That's not what we discussed," said Mr. Goodall, a man with a gray mustache and bowler hat. From his position next to Mr. Polk, his gaze flicked to Jack.

If anything, Polk's smile grew wider. "When we discussed Miss Harding's tenure earlier today, we had only taken into account her dallying with a known gambler of ill repute. But it's clear by what happened tonight that her actions have endangered the children in her care?—"

Jack let go of Merritt's hand to take a step in the man's direction. "Merritt used her quick thinking to get those kids out of harm's way."

Polk's lip curled. "They wouldn't have been in harm's way if not for her connection with you and your acquaintances ."

"You can't take away Miss Harding's job," Jack insisted, though he knew it was well within their rights.

Merritt came beside him, her hand snaking around his arm. "It's all right," she said softly.

"It's not all right." His sense of justice was riled, and he felt righteous anger pouring through him.

"It's not going to matter in the end." Polk glanced at the other two board members. "Unfortunately, I've been in talks with Ernie Duff from the land office, and he's combed through the record books. There's no official record that the land where the school building was constructed was ever purchased by the township. In fact, only yesterday, Burns filed a deed for that tract of land."

Merritt went still beside him. Jack's chest expanded, but before he could speak, Mr. Goodall said, "What do you mean, no record of the original deed?"

"Just what I said." There was such a slimy tone in Polk's voice that Jack wanted to slug him. "The title for that piece of land has been bought and paid for. When I asked Duff where we might rebuild the school, he told me that every parcel in the township was spoken for, unless we can have the town council expand the borders of our town."

"The school is centrally located," Merritt said. "Easy for any child living nearby to walk to. If it's relocated outside of town, some children won't be able to attend."

"That's too bad," Polk said. " If the school is rebuilt before the spring semester ends. You know how the town council can be so terribly slow about passing legislation."

Another pair of boots hit the boardwalk, and Jack was deeply relieved as Nick headed their direction.

"Gentlemen." Nick shook hands with all three school board members. If Jack wasn't mistaken, he squeezed Polk's for a prolonged moment. The other man flexed his hand at his side, as if Nick's handshake had hurt, and Jack felt an inordinate amount of happiness in that.

"I couldn't help but overhear your lively discussion." Nick pulled a sheaf of papers from an inside coat pocket.

"I just came in on the train from Cheyenne, where I had a visit with the state superintendent. Mr. Beauchamp has been remitting a report on our county school each year. But did you know that his predecessor wrote terribly detailed reports? The superintendent sent me with a handwritten copy of this one." Nick held out a paper to Mr. Goodall, who took it. "As you can see there, it shows the detail of the land parcel where the school was, before it burned."

"Regardless, if the school was occupying the land illegally?—"

Nick interrupted Polk. "It was legal, even if the records have been lost. There are six years of reports just like that one. The state office also told me about state legislation passed just last year reserving a parcel of land in each township specifically for a school. The superintendent was going to wire Mr. Duff over at the land office so he'd have an official reminder."

Mr. Goodall stared at the paper with a frown. "The sale to Mr. Burns can be reversed. It's clear he was trying to take advantage of the situation."

Polk started to argue, and Mr. Beauchamp joined the conversation.

"Nick!" Merritt moved past Jack and threw her arms around her cousin. Over her head, Nick's stare bored into Jack.

Thank you , Jack mouthed.

Take care of her , Nick replied in kind.

Mr. Goodall looked to Merritt. "You go on back inside, Miss Harding. Your students are waiting for you. You've done good work tonight, this week. You don't need to worry about your job."

Jack felt a sense of satisfaction as her face glowed under the praise.

"But—" Polk spluttered.

Goodall clapped a hand on the other man's back. "I think we're finished here."

Beauchamp had already started down the street. "Won't hurt to go and visit Mr. Duff right now."

The night went quiet as the three men continued arguing on their way down the street. From inside, voices of children and parents were muffled.

Jack stood shivering on the edge of the boardwalk. He felt a sense of satisfaction. He'd accomplished what he'd come back to do.

…one of the esteemed residents of my town .

Was there a chance he could stay?

Merritt was concentrating on her cousin. "Nick, come in and watch."

But as Jack watched, some pain passed over Nick's expression. "Not tonight."

Merritt looked sympathetic and understanding. "Perhaps next time."

Jack had figured a man who'd once wanted to be a teacher might like to come in and watch the children perform. But Nick shook his head again, sharing secrets with Merritt that Jack didn't know.

Nick left and then it was only Jack and Merritt standing in the quiet night. She was facing away from him as she reached out and pulled open the door, letting light spill out. He couldn't help remembering the way she'd cried just after the last time he'd seen her. Maybe he should go…

Except she turned and looked at him, the glowing lamplight gilding every side of her like she was some kind of angel. His heart twisted.

She motioned him forward, and he sent another prayer upward to the God he'd only begun to introduce himself to, that his luck wouldn't run out yet.

She handed him his coat, and he hung back at the rear of the room as she moved through the throngs of parents and kids. Nobody seemed terribly traumatized, everyone chatting like tonight was any other night.

Merritt stood on the stage and asked everyone to sit down, asked the kids to start all over again.

When he thought she would've stayed up front to keep things running, she leaned over to whisper to one of the bigger girls and then skirted the crowd that was watching the children with rapt attention to stand next to him along the back wall.

"You left," she whispered without taking her eyes off the action on the makeshift stage.

"I did." He'd only made it as far as the next town over. Between Cecil on the train and his own conscience, he hadn't needed much convincing. "I didn't get far. I realized I'd left behind everything that mattered."

He heard the catch in her breath but also saw one of the men in the back row craning his neck to catch sight of the two of them before he turned back around.

So Jack didn't take her hand or turn toward her, even though everything inside him longed to take her in his arms. "I'm sorry," he said. "Sorry for lying to you, sorry for putting you in danger. But I'm not sorry we met?—"

"Me neither."

Her whispered words sank into him, to the deepest part of his heart, and for the first time since he'd left her in the preacher's parlor, he felt a beat of hope, like the first crocus leaf popping out of the snow in spring.

He couldn't stop himself this time, turned toward her, though he was careful to hide the way his hand closed over hers with the shift of his body.

Her eyes were luminous as she gave him her entire focus.

"I know we haven't known each other long and that you'll want to know a lot more about me before you can say the same, but"—he swallowed hard—"I'm falling in love with you."

"Oh, Jack." She was looking at him in such a way that he couldn't help inching closer. "I know enough about your honorable intentions that I'm falling too."

Her words settled inside him, breaking him apart and putting him back together. He felt like a brand-new man, at once effervescent with joy and grounded like a foundation stone in a house.

She reached for him and he felt a rush of relief as he stepped closer, as her arms wound around his waist, as his hands rested behind her back. She was in his arms again, and it was heaven.

But he didn't tip his head to take the kiss he wanted, even though her chin was tilted in delightful invitation.

And then she asked. "Aren't you going to kiss me? A declaration like that seems as if it should be punctuated with a kiss."

There was his independent schoolmarm. Not afraid to ask for what she wanted.

"There's a whole lotta kids up on that stage," he whispered. "What're the chances they'll ignore us?"

"Very low." But she was grinning up at him. "Lower than finding an ace on your first draw from the deck. But you should probably do it anyway."

He bent his head and brushed his lips across hers. Joy rose up inside him, full and resonant.

She returned his feelings. She was in his arms.

"Stay in Calvin," she whispered when they parted. "Build a home here—with me."

When his eyes started to smart, she pressed her cheek to his shoulder.

That must've been the moment the pageant ended, because there was a thunderous roar of applause and stomping feet.

But he was in his own little world, holding the most precious piece of his heart.