.
Читать онлайн книгу.
her personal mission to inspire her students, to get them to focus on not just their schoolwork, but also on their abilities to surmount any and all obstacles that existed in their daily lives. She did her best to instill a work ethic within them that enabled them to work hard at achieving their personal goals.
On those occasions when things got particularly rough for her, it was then that Shania found herself channeling her great-aunt Naomi.
Early on in their relationship, the gruff, far from soft-spoken woman became her inspiration. To Shania’s recollection, there was no problem too big or too taxing to bring Aunt Naomi down or cause her to throw in the towel and give up. No matter what it was, Aunt Naomi had taught them that they could always find a way to deal with it.
Today had been about as taxing a day as she could ever remember enduring.
Usually, on those days when her students turned out to be particularly challenging, she’d go home and then she and Wynona would act as each other’s cheering section—or support group—whatever way wound up doing the trick.
But Wynona was no longer here. Right after the wedding had taken place, she and Clint had moved in together at the ranch. For a few minutes after her day had ended, Shania debated picking up the phone and calling Wynona just to unwind for a minute.
She would be damned if she was going to call her cousin to complain about today. Wynona didn’t need to hear her carping. What her cousin needed was to spend quality time with her husband, not to mention that she was also acclimating to being a mother to Clint’s nine-year-old son, Ryan.
No, Shania thought, growing more restless, Wyn had her hands more than full with all that going on, plus teaching. Her cousin definitely had no time to offer her a shoulder to lean on, Shania thought, even though Wynona would if called upon.
She wasn’t going to call her. But that didn’t mean that she didn’t still need at least a willing ear to listen to her, Shania thought as she chewed on her lower lip.
She could only think of one place where she could find that willing ear. An ear that only listened, but didn’t feel obligated to give advice.
“No offense, Belle,” she said, looking down at the rather diminutive German shepherd that was shadowing her every move and weaving in and out between her legs when she walked, “but tonight I really think that I need a human to talk to.”
Belle stopped moving and looked up at her with her big brown eyes. Shania could have sworn that the dog understood what she was saying—and forgave her.
“I won’t be long,” Shania promised as she grabbed her jacket from the coat rack by the door and shrugged into the garment.
Granted it was only just the end of September, but sometimes the weather took an unexpected turn around seven or eight o’clock, becoming cold. The last thing she wanted to do was to catch a cold. It was bad enough having to deal with low spirits, something she was not accustomed to having.
* * *
Murphy’s, the town’s only saloon, has initially been owned by Patrick Murphy, the present owners’ uncle. A lifelong bachelor, he had taken in the three orphaned brothers when they were just boys after his younger brother, their widowed father, died. Eventually, since they comprised his only family, Patrick left the establishment that was his pride and joy to them when he passed away.
Although the two younger Murphy brothers occasionally took turns operating it, everyone agreed that the saloon was Brett’s baby. The oldest of the Murphy brothers was the force behind its present success and he was the reason that most people in and around Forever would find their way there.
Murphy’s had an unspoken agreement with Miss Joan, the woman who owned the town’s only diner, which was also its only restaurant. Miss Joan’s was where people went for food and, on occasion, for advice. Murphy’s was where they went to have a drink amid people they knew. It was also where they went to enjoy some camaraderie and have their spirits lifted.
It was exactly the latter that Shania found herself needing tonight.
The moment she walked into Murphy’s, she found herself feeling better. Unlike bars that were located in the larger cities, Murphy’s didn’t shun ample lighting, opting instead to lean toward atmosphere that was created by a lack of darkness. Because of the bright lighting, there were no shadows to hide in, no dimly lit areas to gravitate toward that would enable the patrons to observe without being observed.
Shania quickly looked around. As usual, she noted, Brett was tending bar. Married to one of the town’s two doctors, whenever Alicia worked late at the clinic, Brett was the one who worked late at the bar. In any given emergency, he and his brothers traded off shifts, although Murphy’s was doing so well, they could afford to hire a bartender for the nights that none of the brothers could be here.
“Don’t usually see you here, pretty lady. I know that my paper’s overdue, but I’m still working on it,” Brett told her with a wink. Wiping down the bar, he gestured toward a stool directly in front of him.
“I’ve got a feeling you’ll be working on it a long time,” she told him, sliding in on the stool.
“You could be right,” Brett responded. “So, what’ll it be?” he asked, flashing a welcoming smile at her as he retired the cloth he was using. “Or are you just here for some good conversation?”
“I’ll have whatever you have on tap,” Shania told the man.
“Coming right up,” Brett responded. As he spoke, he filled up a mug. There was foam taking up two thirds of the space. Placing the mug down on the bar right in front of her, Brett took a closer look at her expression. “Something wrong?” he asked her gently.
Shania squared her shoulders. “Why does there have to be something wrong?” she asked, drawing the mug closer to her.
“Because it’s a school night and you’re here, having a beer,” Brett pointed out.
“I drink beer,” she protested defensively.
“Didn’t say you didn’t,” he answered. “Just not used to seeing you drinking it here.”
She couldn’t really argue with that. Shrugging off his observation, she told him, “Maybe I just came out to make contact with my fellow man.”
The look on Brett’s face told her that he knew it had to be more than that, but he wasn’t about to challenge her.
“This is the place to do that,” Brett agreed. Someone called out to him. Brett glanced over in the patron’s direction, then excused himself. “Sorry, Shania, duty calls.” He hesitated just for a moment. “You’ll be all right?” he asked.
Shania nodded. “I’ll be fine. I’m not fragile,” she assured him.
“That’s good to know,” a deep voice behind her told her.
Not so much startled as surprised, Shania turned around to see who the voice belonged to and found herself looking up into the softest brown eyes that she had ever seen. With broad shoulders, a taut, trim waist and standing approximately six one, the rest of the man was even more strikingly impressive.
“Fragile women don’t have an easy time of it,” the man said.
There was something about the man that looked vaguely familiar, but she was fairly certain that she had never met him.
“And you know this how?” Shana heard herself asking the dark-haired man.
“Years of experience,” he answered.
Shania saw the badge he was wearing and she made the logical assumption. The man had to be one of the sheriff’s deputies. She also guessed that given the man’s high cheekbones, he was also at least part Navajo, which instantly gave them something in common.
But rather than comment on that—it sounded like such a line to her—Shania took another sip of her drink. The beer tasted particularly bitter, but she had gotten