The Teacher’s Rugged Protector (Preview)

Chapter One

Lake View, Colorado-Spring 1889

Walking to the schoolhouse from her grandfather’s farm was usually a pleasure for Laura May Beckett. The Spring wildflowers were in full blossom, waving their good morning to her from the verge as she brushed her hands against their bobbing purple heads. Today, her heart was heavy. Grampa Beckett had worsened overnight, and she had lain awake for several hours listening to his labored breathing. Since her grandma had passed three years before, he had declined quickly, taking to his bed and refusing food.

“Good morning, Miss Beckett.”

Laura May jumped slightly at the unexpected sound that jolted her from her thoughts. She turned around. It was Tilly Wyatt, the brightest of her fourteen pupils. She stopped walking and knelt to be at the little girl’s height.

“And a good morning to you, Tilly,” she replied, smiling up at the girl’s mother. “You look a treat. Is that a new dress?”

Tilly’s face shone back in pride. Glancing upward, she said, “Ma made it for me, pretty fine, ain’t it?”

Laura May laughed spontaneously—she loved Tilly’s natural openness. Standing up, she replied, “Yes, it is. Mighty fine.” She held out her hand, smiling at Mrs. Wyatt. “Would you like to walk with me the rest of the way?”

Tilly nodded enthusiastically, sliding her hand into Laura May’s and joining their fingers. Her mother gave a grateful nod to Laura May. She had three other children at home, and any time saved was a help.

The little girl’s chattering filled Laura May’s head as they continued walking to the gate of the schoolhouse, pushing out the worry she had about her grampa. She shepherded the rest of the arriving class into the building, patting the heads of a couple of boys who were a bit too enthusiastic to get to their seats.

“Bill Wesson and Robbie Tucker!” she said sternly, frowning down at the nine-year-olds. They smiled up at her, a rueful look on their faces.

“Sorry, Miss!” they replied in unison.

Once seated, the class was absorbed with the lesson from the beginning. Their response to Laura May’s questions about the work they had done the previous day was met with a flurry of arms waving in the air. It filled Laura May’s heart with joy to see the enthusiasm on the children’s faces. It reminded her of her own love of school and the joy of walking with her mother, her blond hair much like her own, blowing around her face in gentle curls. Her mother’s eyes had been gray, not green like Laura May’s.

“They are the color of a deep ocean, glinting in the summer sun,” her ma had often said, hugging Laura May to her side. Her eyes filled with tears unexpectedly at the memory. She missed her ma and pa still, even though she’d been twelve when they passed.

“You got somethin’ in your eye, miss?” Rachel Carson’s voice shook Laura May back to the present. She blinked then looked down at the apple-shaped face of the girl and nodded.

“It must be the sunshine,” she replied, blinking again. “It’s a beautiful, bright day. I think we’ll do the rest of the lessons in the garden.” She walked to the front of the class briskly. “Collect up your book and pencil and follow me.”

The excited pupils and their teacher spent the rest of the day in the shade of the old oak tree at the back of the building. Leaning their books on their knees and writing furiously as Laura May explained how the different seasons changed the landscape. She stood up, pointing toward the distant mountains, their peaks shrouded in white.

“You remember the snow that came in December?” she asked, looking around at the nodding heads. “It’s all gone from Lake View now, but you can still see it on the hills. Why do you think that is?”

“Cause it’s colder up there than it is down here?” Billy Wesson asked as he scrambled to his feet looking at the horizon.

“Exactly, Billy, well done,” Laura May replied. “The higher up you go, the colder it gets. That’s why most people choose to live in the valley where it’s warmer.”

“That and the fact that you might meet a grizzly bear up there.”

Laura May turned around quickly at the sound of her best friend’s voice. Betsy was standing with her hands on her hips, her dark, thick hair laying loose on her shoulders, a bright red ribbon clipped on the side. Laura May shot her a rueful look.

“Is that right, Miss, what Betsy says, are there bears up on the mountains?” Robbie Tucker was staring with his mouth open at the snow-capped shapes.

“Well, Miss Carson—who shouldn’t be interrupting a class, by rights—is correct. There have been bears spotted on the mountain.”

Betsy pulled her red lips into a pout. “It is nearly dinnertime, Miss Beckett. Unless you want these children to starve, I’d let them go home right now.”

Laura May scowled playfully at her friend. “Alright, class, Miss Carson has a point. It’s nearly dinner time. Away you go home now, and I will see you back at school in an hour.”

A general whooping and scrambling began as the children headed for the school gate.

“Wait!” Laura May’s voice rang out across the lawn where the children had scattered. They all froze at the sound of their teacher’s voice. “Please put your books and pencils back on your desk before you go.”

Shouts of “Yes, Miss” rang across the air as the children continued their race back to the schoolhouse.

Betsy laughed softly as she gazed at Laura May. “You have them eatin’ out of your hand. I don’t know how you do it. I can’t get my brother Harlon to do anything.”

Laura May pushed a few wayward strands of shoulder-length hair back away from her face into the neat bun at the base of her neck. “You just need to get them interested, then they’ll do most things,” she replied, smoothing her dress down and walking briskly back toward the schoolhouse.

“Wait for me, Laura May,” Betsy called as she caught her friend by the arm. “I have somethin’ to tell you. It’s about Jack Rivett.”

Laura May’s heart sank at the name of the man who had been hounding her for weeks. She turned to face her friend. “I shouldn’t think anythin’ you have to tell me about him would be of interest to me,” she replied disdainfully, walking even more quickly.

Betsy caught her arm again, holding it so that Laura May couldn’t walk on without seeming rude. “He wants to close the schoolhouse,” Betsy said urgently as she stared into her friend’s eyes.

Laura May’s heart froze. She gripped Betsy’s hand involuntarily, her reply just a horrified whisper. “What?”

“He’s been spoutin’ it all around town. He wants to close the schoolhouse and build a fancy gambling hall. He says it will bring travelers from far and wide and will be good for the town. He says this is the ideal spot.” Betsy’s words spilled from her mouth breathlessly as she turned, spreading her arms out at the beautiful landscape.

“He can’t do that. The sheriff wouldn’t allow it,” Laura May retorted angrily. “This is the only school in the town…”

“Jack’s got that all figured out. He’s gonna put on a special railroad carriage to take the kids to that new school in Parkville.” Betsy replied. “Seems like the sheriff’s all for it. Been tellin’ people Jack will put Lake View on the map.”

“I…I…don’t want to work in Parkville. I like Lake View…It’s my home,” Laura May said, her voice thick with sadness.

Betsy hung her head and shuffled her feet as she said quietly, “Don’t think you figure in his plans this way, Laura May. Parkville’s got enough teachers to take care of your students. Jack’s tellin’ everyone.”

The blood in Laura May’s veins seemed to turn to ice. She shivered. It couldn’t be true. Jack Rivett had been following her around for months, saying how much he loved her and how they needed to be married. Now, he wanted to close the one thing that kept her life worthwhile; it didn’t make sense. Betsy’s arm encircled Laura May’s shoulders.

“I bet you he don’t mean it, Lulu. He’s only doin’ it so’s you’ll get hitched. Once you’re married to the richest man in Lake View, you won’t need to work. It’s a mean trick, but I’m guessin’ he’s run out of ideas on how to get you down that aisle.”

Laura May shook her friend’s arm from her body and stamped her feet in anger, her face darkening. She hadn’t encouraged Jack to pursue her the way he had, tempting her with his wealth. At this moment in time, she loathed him.

“If he thinks that he can blackmail me into being his wife, he’s got another think comin’,” Laura May retorted. “The children’s parents won’t want their little ones goin’ on the railroad to school. It’s an hour’s ride away to Parkville.”

Betsy swept her long black hair over her shoulder. “Money buys anything as far as Jack Rivett is concerned. I don’t think many people will be complainin’. Most of them work for him. Won’t do ‘em much good if they do, anyway,” Betsy added. “You know how Jack deals with folk who don’t do what he wants.”

Laura May stared at her friend’s sun-kissed face. It was only Spring, but Betsy’s skin seemed to absorb any sun that showed itself. Her dark hair against her tanned skin and her shining brown eyes made her look exotic. With her shapely figure and infectious laugh, it was no wonder she was sought after by nearly every man in town. Working in the saloon, she often had to fend off would-be sweethearts. Laura May secretly admired her friend’s ability to do it in a way that never offended. When she tried to put Jack off, she just seemed rude and cold.

“I’m gonna go home for a short while,” Laura May said abruptly. “Grampa’s not doin’ too well, and I want him to have some soup.” She strode away with Betsy trailing behind.

“Sorry to hear that, Lulu. I’ve gotta get back to the saloon. Jack Rivett is not a forgivin’ boss. I’ll drop by later. I might hear somethin’ else about his plans,” Betsy said as she turned on her heel and headed toward the town.

Laura May watched her friend for a few moments, her colorful skirts and petticoats swinging with the motion of her swaying body. Her mind filled with a thought that she had had many times: If only I could be as fancy free as she is.

***

Grampa stirred in his bed when Laura May closed the front door. His weak voice floated down from his bedroom.

“That you, Lulu? Come here, I need to speak with you.”

When she entered the room, Grampa Beckett was leaning back against the pillow, his eyes closed. He sat up as she walked in, his hands grasping the edge of the blanket.

“I want you to go to the bureau downstairs. In the first drawer there is a black book, bring it to me.” Her grampa’s face was contorted into a desperate expression.

“Don’t get yourself worked up, Grampa. I’m gonna bring you up some soup first. You need to…”

“I don’t want soup!” His words rang out loudly as he straightened his back, leaning forward toward Laura May. “Just get the book, please!” His eyes had narrowed in his wrinkled face. He looked terrified.

Laura May walked quickly to the bed, sitting down on the edge. She reached for her grampa’s hands. “I will, I will, but I want you to have some soup. You haven’t eaten for a few days and…”

“Alright, missy. You’re as bad as your grandma in your insistent ways. I’ll drink the soup when you bring me the book.” His steely dark eyes opened wide in his gaunt face as he nodded toward the door. “Go!”

***

Laura May placed the pot of soup on the stove before she went to the bureau. It would be hot by the time she had found the book her Grampa wanted. He seemed so worked up, she wondered why it was so important. She rummaged around the drawer, moving several pieces of paper before finding the black book. As she pulled it out, a sheaf of papers fell to the floor. Laura May looked down at the words on the front in dismay. Last Will and Testament of Ernest Jeremiah Beckett.

“Grampa, I want you to drink a couple of spoonfuls of the soup before you look at this book.” Laura May gave the man slumped against the pillows her best schoolteacher’s look. She placed the tray with the broth on his lap, holding out the spoon.

He grabbed it from her, dipping it into the bowl and slurping the contents into his mouth quickly. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he placed the spoon noisily on the tray and motioned for Laura May to give him the book.

“This here is my will,” he said, drawing out the papers and waving them in the air. “You need to take it to Mr. Rawlings, the lawyer in the town, when…when…I am no longer here.” He let out a sigh as his shaking hands held the papers out to his granddaughter.

“Now, now, Grampa. I won’t let you speak like that. That’s not gonna happen for a long time. You’ve got plenty of…” Laura May’s words were cut off by his rasping voice, his desperation clear.

“I don’t. I’m gonna be joinin’ your grandma any time soon, and it can’t come quick enough.” He coughed as he lay back, holding his chest.

“Grampa! Don’t get yourself so worked up. It doesn’t help.”

Without opening his eyes he replied, “I’m tired, I think I’m gonna sleep now.”

As Laura May bent to pick up the tray, her grampa touched her hand gently, his words just a whisper, “Mr. Rawlings, you can trust him, promise me you’ll take it to him.”

“I will, I promise, but it won’t be necessary for a long time,” Laura May said, but her grampa was already asleep.

***

The afternoon lessons passed as quickly as the morning ones had for the teacher and her pupils. The children were attentive and for the hundredth time she thought how lucky she was to be a school teacher. It had all been due to her grampa, she remembered nostalgically as she collected the schoolbooks from the children on their way out of the room.

Her grandparents had taken her in when her ma and pa were tragically killed in a stagecoach accident. Bandits had attacked the coach as it made its way to the city, and the driver, in his attempt to outrun the robbers, went too near the edge of the ridge, and the stagecoach fell into the ravine. All on board perished. She had been twelve years of age.

Moving to her grandparent’s sprawling farm from her much smaller childhood home had been difficult, but her grampa and grandma wrapped their love around her immediately. She was encouraged to read the books in their small library, books that her grampa had shipped from New York, where he had studied as a young man.

“Books are the learning of a lifetime of joy,” he often said to her when she was found curled up in front of the fire with one of them open in her lap. She agreed with him. There was nothing she loved more than to turn the pages and immerse herself in the wonderful world of words.

She was thinking about that very sentence as she pushed the door of the farmhouse open that afternoon. She called out to her grampa but there was no reply. She wasn’t surprised; he often slept for hours. It wasn’t until much later in the evening, when she prepared a light supper for them both, that she found him. In the same position that she had left him earlier in the day, his gray head leaning against the pillow and his hands loosely laid on top of the blanket. The only difference was, when she touched his hands, they were stone cold.

Chapter Two

Jesse Rivett pushed back the blond strand of hair that had fallen across his blue-gray eyes and stared out at the early morning landscape. The spring sun was just rising above the horizon, and the air was filled with the fluttering of bird song. Aunt Cassie’s farm was graced on each side by fertile landscape that, at this time of year, was bursting with crops. His uncle had developed the land into a prosperous business. It was a shame that he had died and left it to his son, Jack. Jesse’s cousin had proved to be unreliable, selfish, and reckless as far as he was concerned.

“You leavin’ already, Jess?”

His aunt’s frail voice made him turn around. She had aged in the four years since Uncle Joshua had passed. Her hair was steely gray now, and her skin seemed to have taken on all the woes that her wayward son had brought on the family. She looked exhausted.

“Best to start at the crack of dawn, Aunt Cassie. It’ll be cooler for me and Rusty. It’s an eight-hour ride to Lake View, and that’s if we don’t stop.”

“I don’t want you to take any risks, Jess. From what I’ve heard from the folks over there, Jack is caught up in all kinds of things. Been raisin’ Cain in that saloon he owns from what I can make out.”

His aunt’s voice was filled with sadness. Jesse put his hand on her arm and bent his tall frame to look into her tired brown eyes.

“You mustn’t worry about me. I can look after myself. If I can put your mind at rest about Jack’s difficulties, I will.”

Aunt Cassie covered Jesse’s hand with hers, squeezing it tightly. “I know you will. You’ve been a better son to me than my own in the past four years, and you’ve had your own sadness to deal with, too.”

A sharp pang shot through Jesse’s heart at her words. It had been hard losing his mother at birth and then having to grow up with his father’s heavy drinking. He’d tried to care for Jesse, but the demon drink had gripped him. It had taught Jesse a lesson for life: Alcohol was the devil’s work, and he would never touch a drop of it as long as he lived.

Jesse shook his head pushing the memory of his father away. He stood tall beside his aunt and smiled. “Why don’t you go in, Aunt Cassie. I’m gonna saddle up Rusty and head on as soon as I can. There’s no need for you to wait.”

His aunt nodded, returning the smile with her own. “You’re a good man, Jesse. Your mother would be proud of you.”

Jesse watched as his aunt made the short walk back to the house. She looked shrunken from the strong woman that he remembered as a child. His aunt and uncle would visit him and his pa with his cousin Jack sometimes. It had seemed easier to like Jack then, when they were children. The relationship changed when Jesse had taken up the offer his aunt made to live with them in Darington after his father died.

Jack had become wayward, headstrong, which had only worsened when his father died and left his son his inheritance. Instead of staying at the farm to help his ma, he left.

“There’s a big world out there, and I’m gonna see some of it,” he’d said as he watched his ma wipe her tears from her face. “Don’t worry, I’m gonna make you proud. You wait and see.” It hadn’t quite worked out that way.

Jack had traveled to Lake View, a small, sleepy town, and had seen an opportunity to become a big wheel. Flashing his money around, he bought up the only run-down saloon in the town cheaply from the aging owner. Within a few months, he had transformed it into a thriving business with a large bar and gambling tables. As far as Jesse was concerned, that didn’t constitute a success. Drinking and gambling were the two things he despised.

When word came from Lake View that Jack was getting into some heavy dealings with people that he shouldn’t really be spending time with, his aunt was terrified. It had been Jesse’s suggestion that he take a ride over to the town to see if the rumors of his corrupt behavior were true. It was the least he could do for his worried aunt, who had given him a home when he seemed to be lost after his father died.

Rusty was restless in the stable as Jesse got him ready for the ride, whinnying gently and pawing the ground as the saddle hit his back. He had had the horse since he was a teenager, and it had been a young colt. The deep red color of his hide had prompted the name Jesse decided to call him.

“I know, Rusty, it’s been a while since we went on a long ride. Not much need for that since we’ve been here, has there boy?” Jesse said as he patted the horse’s side. “Riding around the farm is as far as you’ve been in the past four years. Time to test your legs are still working,” Jesse added, as he swung his foot into the stirrup, placing himself in the center of the saddle.

The morning mist had all but disappeared as they rode out of the farm and through the countryside. Jesse was captivated by the landscape as the cool air washed over his face. He loved the smell of the season, a mixture of columbine and buffalo grass, with sweet new shoots of fireweed still making their presence known, though it would be a few months before they were at their best. It was only when horse and rider left the prairie behind and started weaving through the valleys that the air changed to the heady scent of pine.

Once they left the rugged canyons behind and after a short stop for both to take on fresh water from a stream, the sight of the growing town of Lake View appeared on the horizon. Jesse had left Darington at dawn, it was mid-afternoon when Rusty slowed to the tension of the reins, stopping in front of the large newly built house. Jesse sat for several seconds, taking in the impressive ornate building. It was a far cry from his aunt’s house and farm where Jack had grown up.

“Hey, cuz, I thought it was you!”

The gravelly voice of Jack Rivett rang out across the lawned entrance to the house. Jesse looked up as his cousin strode over the grass, a glass in one hand and a cigar in the other.

“Ma sent a message to say you would be comin’. Nice to have your company. I hope you’ll stay in my humble home whilst you’re here.” Jack said as he stood, smiling, looking up at Jesse.

“That’s mighty kind of you, cousin,” Jesse replied as he slid from Rusty’s back. Jack placed the cigar in his mouth and offered Jesse his hand; he shook it briefly, then reached up for his saddle bag.

“Your ma’s worried about you, Jack, that’s why I’m here. She’s not heard from you for some time now,” Jesse said, gazing over at the house. “Looks like she doesn’t have much to worry about. You’re well set up.”

Jack followed Jesse’s gaze and grinned. “Well, I’ve been lucky, so to speak. The cards have fallen well for me—in more ways than one,” he replied.

Jesse frowned. His cousin had been too eager to learn how to gamble when he was younger. He was known for being a card-sharp by men who had practiced much longer than he had been alive.

Jack flung his arm around Jesse’s shoulder, saying grandly, “Leave your old horse here. The stable boy’ll take care of him.”

“I’d sooner do it myself. If you show me where the stables are. I like to release his breast collar…” Jesse started to gather up the reins from Rusty.

“You don’t need to bother with that. My wrangler will do everything right. He’s the best. Trust me,” Jack said, pulling Jesse away from the horse and toward the house. “I’m in the middle of a game, but I’ll get the housekeeper to show you to your room. I think you’ll like it. It’s a bit of a step up from Ma’s loft.” Jack let out a loud laugh as he led Jesse into the hallway.

“Louisa, take my cousin up to the green room and make sure he’s got everything he needs. You hear me?” Jack’s convivial tone held a note of rudeness to Jesse. The young girl in the white apron and mop cap bobbed into a small curtsey before leading Jesse up the impressive wooden staircase.

She opened the door to the biggest bedroom that Jesse had ever seen. It had two floor-to-ceiling windows draped with what looked like silk curtains, tied back with a fussy tassel cord. It was west-facing, and the afternoon sun filled the room with warmth.

The young girl asked Jesse if there was anything he wanted her to do. He shook his head and waited for her to leave the room before he pushed his hat back. He knew that Jack had inherited his father’s fortune, but he was surprised at just how wealthy he seemed to be. From what Jesse had seen so far, the house was filled with expensive furniture that must have been brought from the East for a pretty penny.

He laid his saddle bag on the dresser, then poured some water from the jug and sat on the bed. Aunt Carrie had been concerned that Jack might be in some kind of danger. She’d told Jesse that she’d received a letter from a friend in Lake View, hinting that he was getting mixed up with some unsavory gangs. Jack had always been a person who sought out games of chance, especially card games. He seemed to get enormous pleasure and excitement from the risk of winning or losing. It didn’t look to Jesse, on first sight anyway, that Jack was in trouble. Quite the opposite.

Louisa knocked on his bedroom door a few minutes later to let him know that supper would be in about an hour and that, if he wanted to shave, she could fetch some hot water.

“Well, that’s mighty kind, but just show me where the kitchen is, and I’ll get it myself,” Jesse replied.

It didn’t seem right that this young slip of a girl should be carrying jugs of hot water up the three flights of stairs just so that he could shave.

Louisa’s face clouded over, and she backed away toward the door. “Oh, no, sir, if you don’t mind, I must do it. I…Mr. Rivett…he won’t be happy if I don’t.”

The girl looked terrified. Jesse smiled, waving his hand. “That’s fine. I’m sure I don’t need a shave right now.”

Louisa’s expression lightened, and she smiled briefly. “Thank you, sir. The dinner bell will be sounded at six. Supper will be in the garden room. It’s the fourth door on the left.”

Jesse thanked the girl, and she bobbed her head, closing the door behind her.

Although he didn’t shave for supper, he had got enough impression from the maid that the meal was not the ordinary kind of family affair that he was used to at Aunt Cassie’s. They never rang a dinner bell there when grub was ready in the evening. It was too formal for the household, which only consisted of the old cook and the farm hand.

Instead of staying in his dirty clothes, he changed, swapping his shirt for a clean, checkered one and tying a yellow neckerchief around his neck. When he heard the deep, resonant sound of metal on metal, he made his way down the stairs.

“Well, you’re lookin’ right and dandy, cuz.” Jack was standing in the doorway of what Jesse guessed was the parlor. He was wearing a velvet jacket with a high collar shirt and a black necktie, and a cigar hung from his lower lip.

“Have to say the same about you, Jack. Never seen you look so…smart.” Jesse struggled for the right word, deciding the one he chose might be less controversial in the circumstances.

Jack laughed, waving his arm into the room where a group of four men stood with glasses in their hands. “What’s your poison, Jesse?” Jack said, moving toward the mirrored liquor cabinet, “I’ve got whisky, bourbon, Spanish port, Mexican fire water…you name it, I’ve probably got it.” The men laughed along with Jack as he turned to face Jesse.

“Well, I think a ginger beer will do me,” Jesse replied, putting his thumbs into the top of his trouser pockets. “I’m not much one for the hard stuff,” he added as the men’s laughter died down.

Jack threw his head back and laughed like a jackal. “Oh, yes, I remember now, you’re a teetotaler. I don’t think you even took a drop when my old pa passed.”

Jesse remembered the occasion well. Jack and a few of his friends from Darington had got quite out of hand with drink at his uncle’s wake. Aunt Cassie had been truly distressed at their behavior.