The Texan's Inherited Family. Noelle Marchand
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for Quinn, she couldn’t stop thinking about the gentle, almost awed way he’d reached out to touch her hair. She ought to be outraged by his audacity, but then she’d have to be equally shocked by her own behavior. After all, she was the one who’d taken her hair down in front of a man who was practically a stranger. She ought to be ashamed of herself, but she wasn’t. He’d made her feel comfortable, accepted and precious. It was unnerving. More than unnerving—it was dangerous!
It was dangerous because she might actually start believing what he’d said about her. Prim and proper she could handle since that was what every good schoolmarm should be, but she knew all too well that she was not perfect. Never perfect—especially not as a woman. Any doubts she’d had about that had been cleared away six months ago when she’d made the mistake of telling her fiancé, Thomas Coyle, that a riding accident she’d had at sixteen had left her unable to have children. Subsequently, their engagement had ended before the engagement dinner was over.
Helen had quickly studied to become a teacher then moved to Peppin in order to forget her humiliation. If only it was as easy to forget the dreams she’d cherished since she was just a child. Back then, she’d often been found playing house in her mother’s dresses with at least one baby doll clutched in each arm. She’d thought being a teacher would be close enough to the fulfillment of that dream to keep her satisfied. Instead, it only fed the longing for the one thing she knew she’d never be able to have—children of her own.
No, Quinn wouldn’t have called her perfect if he’d known the truth. Or, perhaps he wouldn’t care that she’d never have children. He did have four of his own. She saw the two eldest every school day. She knew a teacher wasn’t supposed to have favorites and she didn’t let it show in the schoolroom, but the Tucker children’s plight had paved their way straight into her heart.
She tossed the thoughts away along with her covers and dressed for the day. What was wrong with her? She knew better than to let herself think things like that. Hadn’t she learned anything from her fiancé’s rejection? Yet, she could almost hear the comforting tones of her mother’s voice in the aftermath of that disaster. I promise you, my darling, if Thomas loved you—truly loved you—it wouldn’t have mattered to him that you can’t have children. As pretty as those words were, Helen wasn’t entirely sure she believed them.
She grabbed her teaching materials then hurried out of her room. A quick glance at the grandfather clock in the main hallway told her that she’d better hurry if she planned to get that cantankerous schoolhouse stove going before class started. She popped into the kitchen only long enough to glean a muffin from a rather tired-looking Mrs. Bradley, before heading out the front door.
A whirlwind of yellow-and-brown oak leaves swirled around her as she hurried down Main Street toward the schoolhouse—their chaos an apt visualization of her nervousness, which increased the closer she got to the schoolhouse. There had been a few minor disturbances early in the school term while she had been adjusting to teaching and the students had been adjusting to her. The president of the school board, Mr. Etheridge, had warned her that another incident of any kind would warrant a discussion of her fitness for the teaching position with the rest of the school board. Sending the man’s son home on Friday with a black eye and bloody nose courtesy of Reece Tucker couldn’t have helped matters.
Helen took a deep breath to calm herself down. Surely Mr. Etheridge must have understood from her note that she’d managed to de-escalate the situation quickly. If nothing else, he had to appreciate the fact that she’d kept the boys from hurting each other further and had even gotten them to apologize.
Feeling a bit more confident, Helen unlocked the schoolroom door and got the fire in the stove going just as students began arriving. A few called jaunty hellos, but most just silently stored their dinner pails in the coatroom then rushed out to play until she was ready to call them in. She had the school bell in hand to do exactly that when Violet, the youngest of Mr. Bradley’s three daughters, met her at the schoolhouse door. “Helen, why didn’t you stay for breakfast? You missed all the excitement!”
She ought to remind Violet to refer to her as Miss McKenna during school hours, but technically the bell hadn’t rung yet, so Helen allowed herself to be drawn in by the fifteen-year-old’s exuberance. “What excitement? What’s happened?”
“Amy eloped last night!”
“Eloped?” Her mouth fell open. “I don’t believe it. How? With whom? Why?”
“With Silas Smithson, of all people! I don’t think you’ve met him. He left town over a year ago. He stayed at the boardinghouse while he was here, which is how he and Amy became sweethearts. He tricked us all into thinking that he worked with the railroad when he was actually an undercover Ranger. I guess Papa’s pride was hurt by Silas’s deception, because he forbade us to have anything to do with him once the truth came out. That didn’t stop Amy from corresponding with him in secret all this time. At least, that’s what she said in the letter she left us.”
Helen shook her head. “No wonder Amy asked me to give Ellie the Bachelor List. She wasn’t planning to be around long enough to do it herself.”
“You have the Bachelor List?” Excitement lit the girl’s blue eyes. She caught Helen’s arm. “What is it like? Where is it? Did you find out who your match is?”
“I had the Bachelor List. It was nothing grand—just a folded-up piece of paper. I didn’t find my match because I didn’t know the paper was the list until Ellie figured out what it must have been. By that point, I’d already lost it at the shivaree.”
“You lost it? Oh, Helen. That’s tragic.”
Helen sighed. “It certainly is, and I feel horrible about it. Hopefully, Ellie will find it today. Meanwhile, I need to ring the school bell or we’re going to start the day late.”
“But I have so much more to tell you! This elopement is the most exciting thing that’s happened to me.”
“You’ll have to tell me the rest at dinner. Now, hurry and put your things in the coatroom. I need to ring the bell.”
Violet gave a dramatic sigh as she opened the cloakroom door then shut it immediately. She glanced back at Helen with wide eyes. “There’s a man in there!”
Before Helen could do more than frown, Quinn Tucker emerged, hands raised as though he was a victim of a holdup. “I’m sorry, ladies. There just didn’t seem to be a good time to interrupt.”
Helen held back a laugh at the guilty expression on his face and crossed her arms. “Yes, well, there generally never is when you’re eavesdropping. What were you doing in there, anyway?”
“I was bringing Clara and Reece the dinner I ordered for them at the café.” He slipped his hands into his pockets then glanced at Violet. “I won’t tell anyone what I overheard.”
“Oh, half the town has probably heard the story by now and the other half will know soon enough. Tell whoever you want. I don’t mind.” Violet gave them a quick smile before disappearing into the coatroom.
Quinn opened the schoolhouse door for Helen then gave her the same crooked grin Reece often used when he knew he was in trouble. “Does that square me with you, Miss McKenna?”
“I suppose it does.” She glanced up at him when they reached the grass. “Of course, I’m still waiting for you to keep your half of the deal we made last night.”
“I got suckered into that deal and you know it.” He narrowed his eyes at the innocent smile she gave him and lifted a brow before setting his hat on his head. “Good day, Miss McKenna.”
“Good day, Mr. Tucker.” She rang the school bell as she watched him stride toward Main Street and wondered what it was about him that she found so attractive. In Austin, she’d preferred gentlemen with a certain level of suavity, affluence and ambition; but those very qualities were the ones that had left her ringless at her engagement dinner. Quinn seemed to be a different sort of man—honest, unassuming, devoted and a bit desperate in his attempts