Wild Hearts

“She’s a widow,” Big John said. “She’s powerful, Zeke. There’s something about the way she looks at a man. As if she knows every bad thing he’s ever done.”

“Why is she here?” Zeke asked, still convinced they were joking. They had to be.

“She’s the new schoolteacher,” one of the men said. “The books she’s brought with her. Plays by some dead Englishman. Something about a ham. My boys are walking around quoting him all the time. You’ve gotta stop it!”

Billy sucked in a breath. “Zeke, we’re desperate men. We’ll do anything you say. Just get that harpy out of town.”

The wagon driver handed down Zeke’s trunk. Big John took it and put it on his shoulder as if it weighed less than a chicken. The group of men began moving toward the hotel.

“You get her gone and things will go back the way they were,” old Sam said. “Zeke, we’re depending on you. I’ll give you first pick of my prize sow’s spring litter.”

“I’ll butcher it for free,” another man said.

“We’ll get together and build you a house, if you want. The biggest house Titanville’s ever seen. Just get her to leave.”

Billy nodded. “Anything, Zeke. You can bring your mares to stud with my best stallion.”

These were fine offers, Zeke thought. Generous. Desperate. He’d played enough cards in his life to know when a man was down to his last dollar, and these men were. He couldn’t believe they were afraid of a woman. Especially a schoolteacher. Women who preferred books over men were usually lonely and quiet. They were like buds, needing a little sunshine to blossom, and he was happy to provide the heat. But this Mrs. Harbaugh had already known the touch of a man. So there had to be another problem.

“The town pays her salary,” he said. “Why not just have a meeting and vote to fire her?”

Big John shuddered. “We can’t. Our wives have already warned us that if we do that, they won’t be sharing our beds anymore. You know how much a man needs the warmth of a woman, Zeke.”

Zeke did. It was a threat to be taken seriously. He found himself intrigued by a woman who had inspired such extraordinary loyalty in such a short period of time.

“What’s she like?” he asked.

Billy shuddered. “She’s a powerful presence. Her eyes are cold and dark.”

“Her skin’s all scarred.”

“She walks as stiff as the dead.”

“The cats run from her.”

“My Bessy stopped giving milk the day she came to visit.”

Zeke pulled out his pocket watch. It was a little after three. “Where is she now?”

“The schoolhouse.”

He faced the men. “I’ll take care of Mrs. Harbaugh. She’ll be gone in a month.”

They started to cheer, then stopped suddenly and looked around. As if they weren’t allowed to be happy anymore.

“You swear?” Billy asked.

“In thirty days Mrs. Harbaugh will no longer be a problem. You have my word.”

He left them clustered together like cattle in a thunderstorm and started up the narrow street. Business had been good, he thought, taking in the two new stores and crowded streets. As he owned more than half the buildings and land in town, that meant his bank account would be full.

He saw there had been improvements, as well as trade. Wooden sidewalks had been started and there were flower boxes in front of many of the storefronts. A large sign in the general-store window proclaimed a meeting the next night for a reading of Shakespeare’s Much Ado About Nothing. He would guess the “ham” one of the men had complained about was Hamlet. Not many schoolteachers who’d come to Titanville read Shakespeare. He would know. In the past eight years, he’d bedded most of them.

He turned left at the Titanville First Baptist Church, then headed out toward the two-room schoolhouse on the edge of town. When the original smaller building had burned down three years ago, he’d donated the money for the larger structure.

Two boys raced across the schoolyard, a kite flying above them. A few girls sat together, playing jacks. As he approached, a woman stepped out of the schoolhouse, glanced toward him, then shaded her eyes to watch his approach.

From what he’d heard, he’d expected the new schoolteacher to be tall, rail-thin and old. The woman in front of him barely came to his shoulder. She was young and pleasantly rounded with a full bosom. As he got closer, she dropped her hand. The scars someone had complained about were freckles. They went with her flame-red hair. And the cold eyes were, instead, the color of spring grass. Big and green and bright, framed by long lashes.

Her mouth was full and made for laughing…or kissing. She was pretty enough, he thought, surprised that someone so feminine could bring all the men to their knees.

“Mrs. Harbaugh? I’m Zeke Titan.” He tipped his hat.

“Have you come to shoot me, Mr. Titan?”

“What?”

She pointed at the Winchester he still cradled in his arm. “I don’t allow guns on school property. Or weapons of any kind.”

“What harm can a young boy do with a knife?”

“Plenty of harm, sir. If your reputation is anything to go by, you are well aware of the danger knives and guns can present.”

“My reputation?” Excellent. “So you’ve heard of me.”

“One can hardly live in Titanville and not hear of you and your reputation for wildness.” She frowned slightly. “I’ll admit I’d pictured someone older, however.” Her gaze dropped to his flat midsection. “Someone of more girth, perhaps.”

He gave her a lazy smile. “Disappointed?”

Her green eyes narrowed. “Disappointment would imply your presence is of any consequence to me. I assure you, it is not.”

“Are you this prickly with all your visitors?”

“You are confusing my unwillingness to waste time with my temperament, Mr. Titan. You are the one who walked to the schoolhouse. For what purpose?”

“Why, to meet you, Mrs. Harbaugh.”

She frowned slightly, as if confused by the admission. “And now you have. I still have students here and they require my full attention.”

“Then I will leave you to them.” He tipped his hat again. “Until this evening.”

“What happens this evening?”

“We will dine together, Mrs. Harbaugh. You’re staying at the hotel, are you not?”

He already knew the answer to that question. Teachers stayed at the hotel for a year. If they made it to their second year—and so far no teacher had—a house would be built for them. Zeke covered the cost of the room, easy enough, as he owned the hotel. Meals were taken in the small dining room in back.

“I’m staying there,” she began, “not that it is any business of yours.”