dropped an octave and he sought her eyes. He didn’t squirm or twist nervously as another man might have. He looked at her straight and plain. “I am glad you have arrived.”
She felt a hot blush creeping into her cheeks. “Thank you, James.”
After an ardent promise to return in the morning and assist with the school preparations, James bid her good night. Annika closed the door, missing his presence immediately.
Still, she was glad for the opportunity to see to her own comfort after so many hours of dust, fear and monotony. After a few moments of searching, she found the precious squares of lavender soap which had been carefully packed in her trunk before leaving Wisconsin. They were meant to be used sparingly but Annika reasoned that after such a difficult day a small treat was in order.
It was now completely dark and the only light was from the single lantern. She covered the lone square window in the teacherage with a roughly hung petticoat and began to undress. Her ribs sighed with relief as she loosened her stays. It was a constant source of chagrin to Mari Larson that her daughter never allowed them to be pulled as tightly as they could have been. To Annika it just smacked of barbarity, this fashion which made breathing difficult.
She massaged the feeling back into her skin and set aside her clothes carefully. Using a knitted cotton square, she washed completely, reveling in the feel of the water running over her breasts and pooling on her belly. She removed the pins from her thick blonde hair and allowed it to fall in warm waves over her naked skin. After she slipped back into her chemise and covered herself with a worn dressing gown, Annika ate the last of the moist cornbread Mrs. Tarberry had so kindly packed for her journey.
Tomorrow she would write to her parents in Wisconsin to inform them of her arrival. Tonight she would enjoy a good night of sleep. The bed was less than ideal without a mattress, but she figured she could layer the rope crossings with enough clothing to render it somewhat comfortable. Suddenly she could scarcely keep her eyes open. There was much to be done tomorrow and rest would come easily after such a long ordeal. Annika yawned and stretched luxuriantly. Then she jumped a foot in the air with the sound of a sharp knock on the door.
The teacherage was so small that the door itself was scarcely three steps away from where she stood. Her heart threatened to burst through her chest as she picked up the Bronze Boy.
“If you’re pointin’ that rifle toward me, Miss Larson, I urge you to reconsider.”
Annika knew that voice. She also knew she would not be quick enough for him. Annika lowered the rifle and Mercer Dolan stepped through the door without awaiting an invitation.
“Evenin’,” he said, tipping his hat as if he were invited to a Sunday social. “I reckon you and I are due for a talk.” He crossed his arms over his chest and regarded her shrewdly. He may have dispensed with his mask but he was still every bit the outlaw.
“No,” Annika told him, pulling her dressing gown more tightly over her bosom as he watched with amusement. “I don’t believe there is anything between us which bears discussion. I did not tell your brother of your exploits on the road nor do I plan to.”
“Exploits,” Mercer laughed loudly. “Miss, can you try not to sound like a schoolteacher or is it just goddamn unavoidable?”
“Mr. Dolan,” she said coldly, rising and trying to exude some air of authority. “Whether you came here to insult me or threaten me, you’ve been successful. I beg you to leave now.”
“Threaten you?” Mercer widened his eyes and grinned. Though a careless shadow of beard had emerged across his jaw, he was absurdly handsome. And he knew it, closing the door behind him and moving ever closer in the confines of the tiny room. “Now why would I do a thing
She felt a hot blush creeping into her cheeks. “Thank you, James.”
After an ardent promise to return in the morning and assist with the school preparations, James bid her good night. Annika closed the door, missing his presence immediately.
Still, she was glad for the opportunity to see to her own comfort after so many hours of dust, fear and monotony. After a few moments of searching, she found the precious squares of lavender soap which had been carefully packed in her trunk before leaving Wisconsin. They were meant to be used sparingly but Annika reasoned that after such a difficult day a small treat was in order.
It was now completely dark and the only light was from the single lantern. She covered the lone square window in the teacherage with a roughly hung petticoat and began to undress. Her ribs sighed with relief as she loosened her stays. It was a constant source of chagrin to Mari Larson that her daughter never allowed them to be pulled as tightly as they could have been. To Annika it just smacked of barbarity, this fashion which made breathing difficult.
She massaged the feeling back into her skin and set aside her clothes carefully. Using a knitted cotton square, she washed completely, reveling in the feel of the water running over her breasts and pooling on her belly. She removed the pins from her thick blonde hair and allowed it to fall in warm waves over her naked skin. After she slipped back into her chemise and covered herself with a worn dressing gown, Annika ate the last of the moist cornbread Mrs. Tarberry had so kindly packed for her journey.
Tomorrow she would write to her parents in Wisconsin to inform them of her arrival. Tonight she would enjoy a good night of sleep. The bed was less than ideal without a mattress, but she figured she could layer the rope crossings with enough clothing to render it somewhat comfortable. Suddenly she could scarcely keep her eyes open. There was much to be done tomorrow and rest would come easily after such a long ordeal. Annika yawned and stretched luxuriantly. Then she jumped a foot in the air with the sound of a sharp knock on the door.
The teacherage was so small that the door itself was scarcely three steps away from where she stood. Her heart threatened to burst through her chest as she picked up the Bronze Boy.
“If you’re pointin’ that rifle toward me, Miss Larson, I urge you to reconsider.”
Annika knew that voice. She also knew she would not be quick enough for him. Annika lowered the rifle and Mercer Dolan stepped through the door without awaiting an invitation.
“Evenin’,” he said, tipping his hat as if he were invited to a Sunday social. “I reckon you and I are due for a talk.” He crossed his arms over his chest and regarded her shrewdly. He may have dispensed with his mask but he was still every bit the outlaw.
“No,” Annika told him, pulling her dressing gown more tightly over her bosom as he watched with amusement. “I don’t believe there is anything between us which bears discussion. I did not tell your brother of your exploits on the road nor do I plan to.”
“Exploits,” Mercer laughed loudly. “Miss, can you try not to sound like a schoolteacher or is it just goddamn unavoidable?”
“Mr. Dolan,” she said coldly, rising and trying to exude some air of authority. “Whether you came here to insult me or threaten me, you’ve been successful. I beg you to leave now.”
“Threaten you?” Mercer widened his eyes and grinned. Though a careless shadow of beard had emerged across his jaw, he was absurdly handsome. And he knew it, closing the door behind him and moving ever closer in the confines of the tiny room. “Now why would I do a thing
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