Read Online An Outlaw's Christmas by Linda Lael Miller - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Linda Lael Miller
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carried the bedstead and mattress, still roped together, into the schoolhouse.
The bed wasn’t very wide—it probably belonged to either Edrina or Harriet—but there was no room for it in front, so they took it into the teacher’s quarters. Piper fussed and hovered like a hen chased away from its nest, but Clay only said, “You can’t sleep on the floor,” and proceeded to set the thing up in the little space available—crosswise at the foot of the bed where Sawyer lay, sound asleep.
It made a T-shape, and Piper figured that T stood for trouble.
“You’ll be quite safe,” Doc added, in fatherly tones, after helping Clay assemble the second bed. Sawyer’s eyelids fluttered, but he didn’t stir otherwise. The pistol rested, a daunting presence in its own right, on the night table. “Mr. McKettrick here is an invalid, remember.”
An invalid? Piper thought. Sawyer had gotten out of bed without help just that morning, visited the shed where his horse was kept as well as the privy, and returned to the schoolhouse with enough strength to drink coffee and eat breakfast.
“Safe?” Piper challenged, folding her arms. “By now, my reputation must be in tatters.”
“Nobody knows Sawyer’s here,” Clay reasoned, unwinding the rope that left a deep dent in the middle of the bed. “I haven’t said a word to anybody but Dara Rose. She sent some things for you, by the way, staples, mostly, and a book she ordered from back East. Says she’ll read it when you’re finished.”
Piper thought of her cousin with both gratitude and frustration. If only Dara Rose were here, too. As a respectable married woman, she could have defused any gossip by her mere presence.
Doc wouldn’t look at Piper, though it took her a moment to notice, and when she did, she saw that his neck had reddened above his tight celluloid collar. He’d told Eloise, of course—his wife would have demanded an explanation for his leaving the house when everyone else was staying home, close to the fire.
“Doc?” Piper prodded suspiciously.
“I’ve sworn Mrs. Howard to secrecy,” he said, but he still wouldn’t meet her gaze.
Some things, like a mysterious man occupying the schoolmarm’s bed, able-bodied or not, were simply too deliciously improper to keep silent about, especially for people like Eloise Howard. Bess Turner, by ironic contrast, wouldn’t say a word to anyone—Piper was sure of that.
She groaned aloud.
“It’s too late anyhow,” Clay observed lightly, straightening after he’d crouched to tighten a screw in the framework of the bedstead. “If there’s damage to your good name, it’s already been done.”
Piper flung out her hands. “Well,” she sputtered, “thank you very much for that, Clay McKettrick. But why should you worry? You’re not the one who’ll wind up an old maid and maybe even lose her job!”
He chuckled and shoved a hand through his dark hair. “I reckon it’s a certainty that I’ll never be an old maid,” he conceded. “But you probably won’t, either. There aren’t so many women way out here that men can afford to be choosy.”
Doc Howard closed his eyes, shook his head.
Piper would have shrieked at Clay if it hadn’t been for Sawyer, placidly sleeping nearby. She didn’t want to startle him awake—he might grab for his pistol then and shoot them all.
“Choosy?” she fired back, in a ferocious whisper.
Doc Howard put a hand to each of their backs and steered both Clay and Piper out into the schoolroom. “Now, Clay,” the dentist said, in a diplomatic tone meant to pour oil on troubled waters, “any man would be proud to have a lovely woman like Piper here for a wife. Piper, Clay’s going to pull his foot out of his mouth any moment now and apologize for the thoughtless remark he just made.”
Clay did look sorry. Deflated, too. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded,” he said. “I do ask your pardon.” When Piper just glared at him, not saying a word in reply,
The bed wasn’t very wide—it probably belonged to either Edrina or Harriet—but there was no room for it in front, so they took it into the teacher’s quarters. Piper fussed and hovered like a hen chased away from its nest, but Clay only said, “You can’t sleep on the floor,” and proceeded to set the thing up in the little space available—crosswise at the foot of the bed where Sawyer lay, sound asleep.
It made a T-shape, and Piper figured that T stood for trouble.
“You’ll be quite safe,” Doc added, in fatherly tones, after helping Clay assemble the second bed. Sawyer’s eyelids fluttered, but he didn’t stir otherwise. The pistol rested, a daunting presence in its own right, on the night table. “Mr. McKettrick here is an invalid, remember.”
An invalid? Piper thought. Sawyer had gotten out of bed without help just that morning, visited the shed where his horse was kept as well as the privy, and returned to the schoolhouse with enough strength to drink coffee and eat breakfast.
“Safe?” Piper challenged, folding her arms. “By now, my reputation must be in tatters.”
“Nobody knows Sawyer’s here,” Clay reasoned, unwinding the rope that left a deep dent in the middle of the bed. “I haven’t said a word to anybody but Dara Rose. She sent some things for you, by the way, staples, mostly, and a book she ordered from back East. Says she’ll read it when you’re finished.”
Piper thought of her cousin with both gratitude and frustration. If only Dara Rose were here, too. As a respectable married woman, she could have defused any gossip by her mere presence.
Doc wouldn’t look at Piper, though it took her a moment to notice, and when she did, she saw that his neck had reddened above his tight celluloid collar. He’d told Eloise, of course—his wife would have demanded an explanation for his leaving the house when everyone else was staying home, close to the fire.
“Doc?” Piper prodded suspiciously.
“I’ve sworn Mrs. Howard to secrecy,” he said, but he still wouldn’t meet her gaze.
Some things, like a mysterious man occupying the schoolmarm’s bed, able-bodied or not, were simply too deliciously improper to keep silent about, especially for people like Eloise Howard. Bess Turner, by ironic contrast, wouldn’t say a word to anyone—Piper was sure of that.
She groaned aloud.
“It’s too late anyhow,” Clay observed lightly, straightening after he’d crouched to tighten a screw in the framework of the bedstead. “If there’s damage to your good name, it’s already been done.”
Piper flung out her hands. “Well,” she sputtered, “thank you very much for that, Clay McKettrick. But why should you worry? You’re not the one who’ll wind up an old maid and maybe even lose her job!”
He chuckled and shoved a hand through his dark hair. “I reckon it’s a certainty that I’ll never be an old maid,” he conceded. “But you probably won’t, either. There aren’t so many women way out here that men can afford to be choosy.”
Doc Howard closed his eyes, shook his head.
Piper would have shrieked at Clay if it hadn’t been for Sawyer, placidly sleeping nearby. She didn’t want to startle him awake—he might grab for his pistol then and shoot them all.
“Choosy?” she fired back, in a ferocious whisper.
Doc Howard put a hand to each of their backs and steered both Clay and Piper out into the schoolroom. “Now, Clay,” the dentist said, in a diplomatic tone meant to pour oil on troubled waters, “any man would be proud to have a lovely woman like Piper here for a wife. Piper, Clay’s going to pull his foot out of his mouth any moment now and apologize for the thoughtless remark he just made.”
Clay did look sorry. Deflated, too. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded,” he said. “I do ask your pardon.” When Piper just glared at him, not saying a word in reply,
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