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If she worked all weekend, perhaps she could learn to read an easy story. Of course, putting the letters together into words was difficult. Would it be possible to have the older girls read a story? She could listen and learn, too.
Yes, tomorrow she’d have Martha do just that, Annie decided as she slipped into bed. She wrapped herself in the blanket and fell asleep, feeling warm and safe—and proud to be doing something important.
John sat up in his bed, unable to sleep. He threw the covers off, stood and moved to the window. Often the sight of the land that had belonged to his family for eighty years soothed him and he could fall asleep again. As he watched, poplar trees swayed, their branches teased by a gentle breeze while the light of the rising moon bathed their leaves in silver.
To his surprise, he could see a light coming from the schoolhouse. It had to be long after midnight—why would Matilda still have the lamp on? What could she being doing up so late? Working? She’d told him she wanted to prepare well.
But even knowing that she spent extra time in preparation didn’t calm his concern about her. Several times over the past few days she’d seemed puzzled and uncertain when he talked to her. Had she been injured more seriously than he’d thought? Was she sick? Or had the people who’d written her references exaggerated her competency?
She’d blamed her confusion on the accident. What a terrible ordeal she’d gone through. After the death of her only relative, she’d set off to an unknown future only to suffer an awful accident and watch another person die. In addition, he’d seen the bump and bruises on her forehead, the cuts on her hands and the blood on her clothes from the wounds.
Yes, a most unfortunate incident, but that changed nothing. He was still responsible for the education of the Trail’s End children. That was the Sullivan way. Whether her actions were due to the accident or mistakes or illness made no difference—if she wasn’t teaching well, he’d have to take action. He’d keep an eye on her to assure himself that his daughter and the other children received a proper education.
Keeping an eye on her would not be a burden, given how pretty she was.
As he watched, the light in the schoolhouse moved from the schoolroom toward the room in the back. Then it was extinguished.
With a yawn, he returned to his bed and pulled the covers up. This time, he slept.
Saturday morning, after surviving three days as a teacher, Annie woke up early. She stretched and discovered she had fewer aches. She checked the wound on her arm and found it was healing quite well.
She felt much better. Although she’d slept only a few hours, she was ready to get up and get back to work, to start learning more. At least until she looked out the window.
The sun had barely begun to rise. The morning appeared only as a fiery glow across the horizon, just beginning to sketch pink rays across the dark sky. This was too beautiful a morning to spend at her desk. For a few hours, she’d reward herself for all the time she’d spent at work. She’d take a walk and enjoy the birds and the sun and whatever else she found. After washing and dressing quickly, she forced her feet into her shoes and raced to the door and outside.
Which way should she go? Straight ahead lay the Sullivan ranch, and she didn’t feel comfortable heading that way. She might look as if she assumed a friendship that didn’t exist, and she certainly didn’t want to trespass on their privacy. Behind her lay the road and, on the other side, another ranch. To her left and right lay land that probably belonged to the Sullivans but surely they wouldn’t mind if she explored a bit on the acres farther from their home. She’d walk toward the sun and enjoy the marvels revealed in its expanding light.
As more birds joined the morning chorus, she was surrounded by music. She followed a faint path—barely a trace, really—with tall prairie grass on each side. What might be hiding in there? Mice? Possibly snakes, but this morning she didn’t care. She merely wanted to revel in the daylight, to feel the cool air on her face and the sun on her cheeks, to experience the solid crunch of the ground beneath her feet.
She moved through a thicket, dodging the branches that attempted to snag her skirt, touching the rough bark of the trees and noting the bare branches. She knew the sunlight would color her face, but that didn’t matter. Real ladies would protect their complexions by wearing bonnets or never coming outside in the sunshine, but she’d always loved her walks, even as a sad child and, later, as a woman escaping the heat and terror of the brothel for a few minutes. She held out her arms to feel the joy around her, to draw it in and allow it to warm those cold places inside.
Once through the grove, she found a very inviting tree stump, seemingly placed there just for her. She sat on it and breathed in the beauty surrounding her.
Within moments, she heard hoofbeats coming hard and fast. Her first reaction was to leap to her feet and hide in the trees, but the rider came into view before she could move. He didn’t seem to notice her. He rode with such joy, such abandon, as if this were what he’d been created to do. He and the horse moved together, a picture of effortless perfection and absolute happiness.
The rider wore no hat, his short dark hair blowing a bit. She could hear the sound of deep laughter, and she almost laughed herself, enjoying the sight of this man and his horse, the pure splendor of the two together with the sunlight behind them. A shiver of delight filled her.
Her slight movement alerted the rider that he wasn’t alone. He turned the horse and pulled it to a stop, facing her from nearly fifty yards away. Who was he? Putting her hand above her eyes to fight the glare, she still couldn’t see his face. He snapped the reins and moved toward her.
Why was she sitting out here alone with an unknown man closing in? Immediately instinct took over. She leaped to her feet and ran toward the trees.
“Matilda?”
The voice belonged to John Sullivan. She stopped and turned, her heart pounding. He galloped up to her, and she realized that he looked like a completely different man out here at dawn, riding as if nothing else existed in the world.
“Hello. You’re up early this morning.” When he reached her, he dismounted with a fluid motion and smiled.
He wore denim trousers, scuffed boots and plaid shirt, which was quite a contrast to his usual attire. She sensed an ease she hadn’t noticed when he wore his proper suit and polished shoes. He was, without a doubt, the handsomest man she’d ever seen. But, of course, handsome men could be the meanest, the roughest and most demanding—
She stopped her train of thought. John was not a customer, and she was no longer in a brothel. She studied his face, his usually stern features softer somehow, more open.
“I like to walk in the morning. And I love to be outdoors,” she explained.
Holding the reins of his horse with one hand, he nodded his head. “I do, too. I don’t get out nearly as much as I’d like.”
“Why don’t you spend more time riding?”
“I’m the town banker. Telling my depositors that I’d rather be with Orion—” he rubbed the horse’s nose with one hand “—they’re not going to be happy with me.”
With a sliver of a smile that charmed Annie against her will, he added, “That’s why I get up early and ride for an hour. The pleasure lasts me all day.”
“It looks so easy for you. When did you start riding?”
“Since I could stay on a saddle. Anyone who lives on a ranch has to.” After a moment he said, “If I remember correctly, you ride also.”
Annie gulped and wished she could read the letters Matilda had written so she’d at least know what she should be able to do. “Oh, no. I hardly—”
“Surely you’re too modest. You listed some competitions you’d participated in.”
Before she could reply, the rising sun caught his eye, and he glanced up before turning away to put his foot in the stirrup. “Excuse me. It’s time for me to go home for breakfast with Elizabeth. She expects me to be on time.”
He mounted, then looked down at her. For a moment, his gaze met hers and stayed there. Again, that trace of a smile emerged and delighted her, making her want to smile back, although she could not interpret the meaning hidden in his expression.
After a few seconds, she realized who and where she was and lowered her eyes to break their connection.
“Matilda, if you will excuse me?” He nodded at her and turned his horse, riding back down into the valley.
As soon as he was gone, she felt a little cooler in the morning breeze. Well, if that wasn’t absolutely ridiculous. She shook her head and reminded herself she was the schoolteacher, not a foolish ninny. John was the banker, the member of the school board who supervised her, and the father of one of her students. If she were to let her barriers down, if she could truly believe that a man wouldn’t hurt her—if, if, if. That would never happen. She couldn’t allow it.
Nonetheless, she’d watched him ride toward his ranch until he’d disappeared into the trees. Still she stood there, long after he’d disappeared, stunned at how glorious the sight of him had been.
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