Chapter 6

A brisk wind was blowing as Merritt stepped out of the dance hall, Jack accompanying her. She secured the door carefully behind her.

Twila and Albert Hyer had been the last ones out, and now they remained on the boardwalk, Albert shaking Jack's hand.

"Thank you for coming out," Merritt said. "You truly don't have any idea who donated the supplies?" She felt uneasy that she didn't know whom to thank.

"I truly don't." Twila smiled. "Albert wouldn't tell me." She paused. "I couldn't help noticing the way your Jack looks at you. Like he's never seen something so fine and he can't believe it's his."

Merritt shook her head, cheeks blazing. "He doesn't." She darted a look in the men's direction and thankfully found them in conversation. Jack didn't seem to have heard.

I don't want to talk about that .

Jack had been closed off, though he'd worked side by side with her all afternoon.

"Hmm. I suppose you might've missed those looks, as busy as you've been all day. But I saw."

Twila looked happier than Merritt had ever seen her. Even when a gust of wind blasted them, Twila only tightened her wrap around herself and smiled as she turned to face Merritt more directly.

"Albert thinks we should wait, but I know you'll understand why I have to share…We are in the family way."

It took a moment and a blink for Merritt to make sense of the rapidly spoken words. And then she was embracing her former student—one of the first young ladies who'd graduated from her schoolroom—and whispering congratulations in her ear.

Albert wore a look of both consternation and adoration as he took his young wife's arm and steered her away toward the general store and their rooms above it.

And Merritt was left with Jack. Who did not take her arm as she faced into the wind to walk home.

She ducked her face into her scarf. "I'll make supper," she said resolutely.

He didn't say anything to that as he fell into step beside her, heading toward her bungalow. Thankfully it wasn't far.

He glanced over his shoulder, the way the young couple had gone. "You seem close with Twila."

Merritt stepped over a slushy bit between the two buildings, where the boardwalk ended with a set of three stairs.

"Believe it or not, she was a pill when I first became the teacher here."

His boots clonked on the boardwalk as they took the next set of steps. "And you won her over?"

Merritt chuckled a little, remembering those days. "It took almost the entire first year."

"Because she was stubborn?"

"Because I had no idea how to corral a classroom of students. It took time to discover that some children learn differently from others, that some need a soft touch while others need strong leadership."

He glanced at her, and she wanted to believe that was admiration in his gaze. They left the boardwalk behind, and her shoes crunched in the icy mud of the street that led back to Merritt's home.

"Twila is actually the reason I answered your ad," Merritt said when the silence had lengthened.

"You took advice from a youngster?" He sounded so appalled that she laughed.

"Certainly not. She invited me to her wedding." Merritt remembered sitting in the pew after Sunday services, along with most of the townsfolk, watching Twila say her vows to Albert. She'd been absolutely beaming, and all Merritt could think was, I want to feel like that .

"I've always wanted a family," she told him as they walked through a patch of shadows thrown by the sun setting behind a house across the street. "Felt like I had plenty of time to find a husband and settle down."

Her stomach twisted, an echo of what she'd felt as she'd watched Twila cling to Albert's arm as they skated down the aisle.

"Seeing one of my students all grown up and starting a family of her own was the push I needed," she said. "A reminder that time was slipping away. I love my students," she said quickly. "But I started to feel as if I could disappear into the schoolmarm for all time."

He was quiet for a moment, the only noises their breathing and the crunch of their footsteps.

"I heard someone say the school board won't allow you to teach after you marry," he said finally. "Will you be happy not being in the classroom?"

She had written the answer in one of her letters. Didn't he remember? She wasn't sure where the disappointment that she swallowed came from.

"I'm sure I'll find purpose and keep busy once we start our family." Saying the words aloud brought a rush of warmth to her cheeks, quickly doused by the cold.

He didn't look at her.

They were almost home now, and she heard the blow of a horse—there were children standing at her front door, waiting. Her heart leaped in recognition, though these bodies weren't from her classroom.

And three tall men stood in almost-identical poses on the small patch of grass in front of her house, another shorter form in shadow behind them.

"Drew! Ed! Nick! What are you doing here?"

Two girlish forms darted toward her. Fourteen-year-old David hung back with his father and uncles. Merritt braced her feet as she caught Tillie in one arm and Jo in the other. "Hello, you two. I'm so glad to see you!" She hugged them close, noting how tall Jo was getting. Almost to her chin now.

"We heard there was a fire at the school!" Jo said.

"Are you hurt?" Tillie asked, leaning back to peer at Merritt.

David had left the stoop to come forward, and he gave her a hug from the side in the spot where Jo had just vacated. "Hi, Merry." David had given her the nickname when he was a toddler and it had stuck.

Tillie still clung to her side as Merritt said, "I'm fine. It happened at night, when no one was at the building."

Tillie didn't seem convinced. "You wasn't there?"

"I wasn't inside," Merritt said, popping a kiss on the girl's forehead.

Jack had gone still next to her at the onslaught of children approaching. When she looked in his direction, she caught Drew and Ed with their arms crossed over their chests, taking Jack's measure.

"Who's that?" Tillie asked. The child was innately curious.

Merritt finally disengaged from the girl to step back next to Jack. She slipped her arm through his, felt his tension in the way he held himself.

"Jack, these are my cousins. I wrote you about them. This is Jack," she said determinedly. "My fiancé."

Jo's eyes went wide, while Tillie gasped—"Yer gettin' married?"

In the flurry of introductions, Nick, the youngest of the four McGraw brothers, was the first to step forward. "Nick McGraw. Happy to meet you."

Jack reached forward and met Nick's handshake, but Merritt still had hold of his other arm and couldn't help noticing that his tension hadn't eased at the welcoming gesture.

She left his side and went to Drew and Ed. They were standing close enough that she could throw her arms around both of them. "Stop that," she chided them. "You're not changing my mind, so you might as well say hello."

Ed's crossed arms fell loose first as her normally easy-going cousin patted her back with one hand.

Drew took a moment longer, but then he relaxed his stance, too, and hugged her shoulders before moving to shake Jack's hand.

"I suppose you all are hungry. Come inside and I'll start frying up some ham."

The kids didn't need a second invitation. They tromped inside like a herd of cattle. Ed followed, eyebrows raised in delight.

Jack hung back and she moved to his side while Drew and Nick were still standing nearby.

"They're not a bad bunch once you get to know them."

Jack looked to the side, giving his profile momentarily. "You should spend the time with your family," he said in a low voice.

She'd expected there to be hiccups, she reminded herself. But not for family to be one of them.

"They'll be your family in a few days too," she reminded him. "Come inside."

He looked like he would argue with her, but she flicked her eyes to Drew, who was watching them intently.

"Didn't Isaac want to come?" she asked, feigning innocence. "Since you were all worried about me after the fire."

Her oldest cousin had the grace to look abashed, while Nick hid a grin by turning his head.

"Isaac's up at the winter cabin," Drew muttered. "Someone has to watch the cattle."

It was unspoken, but she knew that Isaac was having a difficult time since he'd come home from his last job with the US Marshals months ago. He'd been closemouthed about what had happened—she wasn't sure even Drew knew what had sent him home from the job he'd loved—and he rarely came to town.

She saw Drew's gaze flick behind her just before she felt the warmth of Jack's hand clasping hers. His tall form sidled next to her.

It wouldn't do for him to return to the boardinghouse hungry. Relieved, she gave a tug on his hand and pulled him toward the house.

She'd set Tillie on him. Tillie could charm the meanest hen in the henhouse. Jack wouldn't stand a chance.

* * *

Jack didn't know what he'd expected the inside of Merritt's home to look like, but her front room was simple and neat. Two small sofas were kitty-corner on two walls, a low table between them. One entire wall was taken up with a floor-to-ceiling shelf, and it was full to bursting with books. There were even stacks of books beneath the table and on the floor next to the bookcase.

Beyond the sitting room was a tiny hallway to a closed door that he assumed was her bedroom, and past the hall, a doorway that led to the kitchen. The door was open and he could see a small flowerpot on the kitchen windowsill.

Merritt had abandoned him.

At least, she'd excused herself to the kitchen to cook supper. He'd heard the clank of pans, the crackle of kindling taking hold in the stove. The two girls had gone with her. David and Nick had gone to settle the horses and wagon at the livery for the night.

Which left Jack in the room with Drew and Ed.

"Where did you say you were from?"

Drew had asked the question, but Ed's intense gaze was a mirror of his brother's.

"Here and there." Jack still didn't know what John-the-groom had written in his letters, didn't know how much Merritt had told her cousins about her potential groom.

"What happened to your hat? Hey, Merry," Drew called into the kitchen, "I'm not sure I can trust a guy without a hat!"

"Lost it," Jack said cheerfully. "How far's your ranch?"

It must be pretty far if they were staying the night in town. The oldest brother had mentioned staying in the bunkhouse of a rancher nearby. The girls would stay the night here with their cousin, Merry .

Drew stared at him.

It was Ed that answered. "About half a day's ride."

"How many cattle you run?"

If he could keep the conversation focused on the brothers, it'd make everything simpler.

"Almost a hundred head," Drew answered. "You got family back home?"

Jack sat down on the sofa, crossing one ankle over his knee. "No family. Why do you want to know?"

Drew's eyes narrowed. "Wondering whether you're going to try to take Merritt away from her family."

They'll be your family in a few days . Merritt's words from moments ago whispered through his mind.

They wouldn't. He knew it.

And it seemed Drew wasn't too keen on the idea of this match.

Merritt appeared in the kitchen doorway. The scent of frying ham had his mouth watering. The sounds of something sizzling on the stove were muted, as were the girls' voices behind her.

"We'll be staying in Calvin long enough for me to finish the school year," she told her cousin primly. "Not that it's your business."

She set several tin coffee mugs on the table with a clank. The pot followed with a heavier clunk.

"You can pour, Ed," she said. She pointed a finger at Drew. "Be nice."

There'd been a flurry of introductions outside, and the young girl he thought was named Tillie skipped into the room, carrying a glass of milk. There'd been no mention of a mother. Was Drew widowed? Jack's curiosity was piqued, despite knowing he should ignore those thoughts.

"What're you doing, peanut?" Drew asked as she skirted him and then came to sit right next to Jack on the sofa.

"Merry asked me to come rescue Mr. Jack." She took a sip of her milk and set her cup on the table too. She had a small milk mustache across her upper lip, and it made her look innocent somehow.

He felt another kick in his stomach. Had Dewey ever been as innocent as this girl seemed?

Her leg swung where her foot didn't touch the floor. "What d'you need rescuin' for, Mr. Jack?"

He glanced up to where Ed had turned his smile into his shoulder and Drew was staring at him. "I reckon I don't."

She tipped her head to one side. "Then how come Merry thinks so? She's real smart, ya know? If she says you need rescuin', ya prob'ly do."

She said the words with such earnestness that he couldn't argue. But Merritt was wrong. He didn't need rescuing from these men. He could hold his own at a card table with men more dangerous than these. Men with loaded weapons in their laps. He wouldn't be afraid of her family.

Tillie pointed toward a small pile of brown-wrapped packages in one corner of the room, half hidden behind the edge of the sofa. He hadn't noticed them until now.

"Those're our Christmas presents." Tillie whispered so loudly that the sound carried across the room. "Merry always gets me a book, but this year I'm hopin' for a dolly."

His lips twitched with the urge to smile. "You'll be as smart as your cousin if you read lots of books," he said.

The girl wrinkled her nose. "I cain't read yet."

From across the room, Drew grunted. "We're too far out for the kids to attend school in town." If Jack wasn't mistaken, there was a flush of guilt in his expression.

Nick and David stomped inside, complaining that the wind was turning colder. The added bodies and noise turned the attention off Jack and filled the room fair to bursting.

Soon enough, Jack found himself seated at the round table in one corner of Merritt's kitchen, surrounded by the children, his knee pressed against Merritt's.

"How come you haven't decorated for Christmas?" Tillie asked, her mouth full.

"I supposed I haven't had time this year," Merritt said with a furtive glance at Jack. "I've been extra busy with the pageant."

And if he'd learned anything about her at all the past two days, he suspected she'd be up late tonight writing down the pageant script.

"They're not still going to hold it?" Nick said from across the room, where he stood at the counter with his plate.

Merritt nodded. "We are. At the dance hall."

Nick commiserated with her, and Jack learned that he'd once wanted to become a teacher. Again, Jack's curiosity was engaged. Why was the young man back on the ranch instead of following his passion?

The family camaraderie was evident when Tillie spilled her cup of milk and David helped her mop it up. Jo rolled her eyes, but he also saw the girl sneak a piece of her biscuit onto Tillie's plate when the girl complained of still being hungry.

Drew and Nick ribbed Ed about the wooden top he'd promised to craft his nephew for Christmas and promptly forgotten about.

Merritt was teased for keeping her mail-order beau a secret, but she took it with good-natured laughter, nudging his boot with her shoe beneath the table.

Jack knew every move to make at the poker table. How to present himself, how to hold his cards and arrange his chips to let his confidence shine through.

But in the middle of a family supper like this…he was completely out of his element. He soaked it all in, listening and watching and staying out of it as much as he could.

And then he found himself on dishes duty, prompted by Tillie, who claimed it was her turn to be rescued from the mountain of dishes.

He was elbow-deep in sudsy water and she was standing on a chair beside him, drying, when she said, "I like you, Mr. Jack."

He only hesitated a moment. "I like you too." It was impossible not to. The young girl was full of stories about her room, her uncle's dog, and the ranch.

"I'm glad you came here to marry Merry." The girl giggled at the rhyming words. "Now you'll be in our family forever."

He couldn't answer that. His throat was hot.

"How'd you learn how to be a businessman?"

He cleared his throat, thankful for her quick mind that had already taken her in another direction.

Tillie continued, "I don't know what I want to do when I grow up. Maybe be a teacher like Merry."

How he'd learned to gamble wasn't a story for a little girl. But she was watching him with curious, focused eyes, and he knew she was waiting for an answer.

He glanced over his shoulder. Merritt and her cousins and the other kids had gone into the front room. The adults were drinking coffee, and Jack could hear two of the brothers arguing about something.

"For a while, I didn't know what I wanted to do. I lost my parents…and was alone for a long time." He stumbled through the story, trying to edit as he spoke. There were parts a little girl shouldn't know.

He'd been aimless after he'd run away from the Farrs' farm. He'd wanted to get as far away as possible. He'd taken odd jobs. Helped with harvest in a nearby small town.

"And then I met a friend of mine. Bybee. He taught me his trade." Playing cards. "Realized I had a knack for it. Taught me everything he knew."

Unfortunately, Bybee hadn't been as naturally talented or skilled as Jack. He'd cheated one too many times and been caught. There'd been a brawl, guns drawn. Jack's mentor and only friend had been gone with a flash of light and the echoing bang! from a revolver. Jack hadn't had time to mourn; he'd had to move on quickly lest someone accuse him of being a part of Bybee's cheating.

"We…ah…had to part ways," he told Tillie as he handed her the last plate. "But I never forgot what he taught me." How to read tells, having the patience to strike at the right moment.

Tillie dried the plate with her tongue sticking out of the corner of her mouth. She was adorable, and Jack's heart panged.

Before long, the McGraws took their leave. Drew carried a sleepy Tillie on his shoulder out the door, the last one to go.

Jack should be going himself. He hadn't missed the flick of a curtain across the street and knew that Merritt's neighbors might be watching Jack's comings and goings. He didn't want to risk her reputation—more than he already had.

Tonight, being with her and the family had shown him a different kind of life. He was used to being on his own, leaving a saloon after a late night and sometimes lying on a random hotel bed in his clothes, staring up at the ceiling before he was able to drift off. He had never wanted evenings like tonight.

That wasn't true. There was still a part of a little boy inside him, one who had ridden west on a train with other orphans, who had hoped for a family just like this.

It hurt to remember.

Merritt had taken the coffee mugs into the kitchen and was returning as he shrugged into his coat.

"I'd better go."

She looked surprised, but then her glance flicked to the window. "It is late, I suppose."

Merritt watched him for a moment that stretched long. "You aren't what I expected from your letters. I heard you talking with Tillie. Why didn't you tell me about losing both of your parents?"

He didn't want to lie to her. "That's in the past."

"It's still a part of you," she said softly.

Tillie had got the information out of him, almost too easily. Where was the man who could hold his own against sharp poker players?

"You can trust me with your true self," she said.

He touched his temple, only then remembering that he was missing a hat. He stepped out into the cold night without answering her.

Merritt didn't know who he really was.

She had some picture of him in mind, a picture of that John fellow from the train.

That wasn't the real Jack. The real Jack had an ugly past. Had hired guns trying to track him down.

If there was one thing he knew, it was that someone like Merritt—a smart, beautiful woman, respected in her community and loved by her family—would never end up with someone like him.

If she knew the real Jack, she would judge him worthless. Just like Mrs. Farr had.