The Lawman's Lessons. Devlin, Patty

an extra nickel each night he disrupts the guests."

      "But then I'd have to charge Frankie and Jackson the same thing, and they'd be living on the streets in no time," Mrs. Owens replied as she filled Celia's plate high with eggs. Celia raised her hands to stop the woman from piling so much food on it, but Mrs. Owens couldn't be moved from her goal, which she'd already declared previously to fatten the little bird up.

      "I don't snore, Nana, it's just Uncle Jack!" the dark-haired boy called out.

      "What? Why, don't you know it's good to snore, Frankie?" the marshal asked. Celia couldn't stop watching him. She'd been trying not to, but her eyes kept going back to him all morning. That was the way it had been the night before, too. She'd thought about him as she'd tossed and turned. His green eyes and that angular jawline, the cleft in his chin, the stubble all along his lower jaw. She couldn't get the man out of her head. She almost missed his response to the little boy even though she was staring right at the man. "You see, when you are out on the trail, sleeping on the ground out in the open, if you have a good healthy set of lungs and a loud snore, you won't have to worry about something coming up on you while you're sleeping because it will be afraid of your snore."

      "So what day do you start teaching?" A little man with spectacles and a silk cravat sitting to the left of Celia caught her attention with his question. He had beady little eyes and no hair on the top of his head. Funny, but she couldn't remember his name and she normally remembered names quite well.

      "Not until Monday, which is good because there is so much to do before we can start." She sighed, thinking of filth and grime in the closed-up school house. School should be a fun and happy environment, not dark, dirty, gloomy and depressing. There was no way she could go there every day and work with it in that condition. She had to do something about it.

      "Well, I'm thrilled that you are not the expected Mr. Whitman. You are a delightful surprise indeed. I have to head off. I am with Wells Fargo if you have any banking needs, but aside from that I'd love to show you around town." If it were possible for his scrawny chest to puff up, she thought for sure it did. He seemed like a very nice man, but she was not interested in men, or marriage. She had seen many terrible attempts at marriage. No, she was not interested—unless maybe it was that lawman who made her heart thud like a horse galloping across the prairie. Wait, what was she thinking?

      "Are you all right?" he asked. Mr. Spectacles… Wells Fargo, what was his name?

      "Yes, yes, I'm fine. I apologize. Perhaps I can talk to you again about that over a meal sometime?" Her hand was shaking as she rested her fork against her plate. Had everyone else stopped talking, too? Why were they all staring at her?

      Susanna saved her. "Sure you can, honey. Here, let me take that. You don't have to eat it all. Mama always does that to people, gives them way too much. You just go on and get ready for your meeting now. Jack said he's gonna take you down there in a bit."

      *****

      "You didn't have to escort me. I'm sure I could have found my way." Celia glanced up at the profile of the quiet marshal as they headed toward the meeting.

      "Not while you're at my house. This is a rowdy city; I want to know you are safe. Besides, I'm on the school board, too." His voice was monotone. He neither looked at her or away. They walked side by side. He'd offered to hitch a wagon, but also had said it was a decent walk. If there was one thing Celia loved, it was to be outdoors, so she delighted in a nice stroll, in different circumstances.

      "You want me gone, don't you?" She had a feeling he had come along to make sure the board knew she was a woman, just in case they couldn't tell. Then he would expedite her departure from the city or maybe the state if he had his way. She had come prepared for this; she knew they wanted a man. It was silly, though. Did they know how few male teachers there really were? And that was why she'd filled out the paperwork as C. G. Whitman. But, really, what could they do now that she was here? Would they actually send her home?

      "Not you personally. A young unchaperoned lady is not ready for this city. There is just too much that could happen." He still didn't look her way. Old-fashioned. Outdated. These people needed to get with the times.

      "You're an old stick in the mud, always thinking the worst," she muttered. She should just leave him alone; he wasn't worth the argument. The sky was huge and bright blue, not a cloud to be found. Celia took a deep breath. She wanted to stop right there, put her arms out to her sides and spin around and around. She would have to go for a walk later (on her own) and find a field with flowers and just soak up the feeling of the great wide open.

      "And you are a beautiful little flower that's about to get crushed—unless I stop it." He stared right down at her now, his green eyes so clear, the intensity so sharp, it almost took her breath away. Whether or not his words were true, he believed them. He believed he had to protect her. She'd never met anyone like him.