A Teacher's Hope for the Brooding Lawman (Hearts Across the West #10)

Chapter 1

Cressida Lockridge stood on the front porch and closed her eyes, squeezing them until they matched the tightness in her chest. When she opened them, she blew out a deep breath. It was time to get on with her day, whether she liked it or not.

She glanced at the shutter half hanging on the house, half falling off. It was just one item on the list of all the things she had to do within the day, and with the sun creeping steadily closer to its highest point, there wasn’t enough time in the day to do them all.

Heading into the weathered blue barn, she glanced at the empty stalls that led out to the pasture, wishing that she had time to manage more than a couple of horses at a time.

Though, if she were being honest, what she really wished was that she could go sit by the river and work on the dreamed lesson plans that would never come to be.

Humming to herself, she went into the storeroom at the back of the barn, rummaging through the tools until she found a hammer and some nails. The ladder leaned against the corner, half hidden behind bags of feed.

Cressida wrestled the ladder out, the worn floorboards creaking beneath her feet, sounding like they were seconds from finally breaking.

One of these days, I’m going to have to come out here and make time to deal with these floors.

As she made her way back to the house, she saw her sister limping out, the crutch tucked beneath her arm, helping support her weight since Etta still couldn’t walk on her own.

Cressida nearly dropped the hammer and nails, hurrying to Etta. “What are you doing? You’re supposed to be resting. The doctor told you that you could lose the use of your leg entirely if you don’t take the proper time to rest it.”

Etta groaned and shook her head. ‘You don’t need to worry. All I did was move from the kitchen table to right here.”

Not worrying was impossible since the accident that left Etta with a badly broken leg. All Cressida could do was worry about whether Etta would ever regain full use of her leg, especially since Etta seemed determined not to rest.

“You need to sit down before you make things worse,” Cressida said gently, slipping the nails into her pocket and leaning the ladder against the house so she could help Etta into the rocking chair. “I need you to just sit here and try to stay out of trouble.”

“I could go to the river and get more herbs for you.” Etta huffed as she sat down in the rocking chair, her brows pulling together. “I’m supposed to do a little walking every day.”

“And walking to the river and back, not to mention being on your feet and collecting herbs, is going to have you moving for more than an hour. The doctor only wants you on your feet for fifteen minutes a few times a day.”

Etta scowled, leaning her crutch against the house and crossing her arms. “Cressida—”

“Nope. We’re not going against the doctor’s rules.” Cressida forced a tight smile before hauling the ladder over to the broken shutter and climbing up. She nailed it into place, trying to use the thudding of the hammer to drown out some of the thoughts going on in her mind.

This would be easier if Edmund were still alive.

It had been a little over a year since her husband Edmund’s death, and yet, there were still moments when life felt particularly troublesome, and she missed him. He was always with her, but now more than ever, she wished the illness hadn’t taken him from her.

She drove the last nail into place before climbing back down and stretching. Her back still ached from helping Etta downstairs this morning, but there was little she could do about that.

“I’m heading to gather herbs after I put this away,” Cressida said, nodding to the ladder. “Is there anything you want from inside before I go?”

“My quilting?” Etta looked down at her hands, a tear slipping from the corner of her eye.

Cressida pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Don’t fret. You’re going to be healed before you know it.”

“It’s been months!” Etta’s voice broke as she looked up at her.

“It’s been months, and I can still barely walk.

I have to rely on you for everything! And you’re going to work yourself to death!

Look at this place! It’s barely holding itself together, and there aren’t enough nails in the world to keep it from fully falling apart. ”

Glancing at the house, Cressida supposed it could be better. Returning to her hometown after Edmund’s death hadn’t been ideal, but it was familiar. Safe. A place where a family member gave them a home as long as she promised to fix it up.

The siding was sun-bleached and crumbling in some sections; the barn had a slight lean, but it could be worse.

“You don’t worry about the things I do to get through the day.

” Cressida went inside and grabbed the woven basket filled with Etta’s quilting supplies.

She brought it back out and set it on the little wooden table beside Etta.

“I’ll be back within a couple of hours. Be careful if you go back inside, please. ”

Etta sighed, reaching into the basket and pulling out a blue square of fabric and some shears. “I will. Be careful at the river.”

Cressida grabbed the ladder and nodded, heading to the barn.

After she stashed the ladder and hammer back in the storeroom, she followed the worn path that weaved through the pasture and out the back gate.

The river was at the furthest edge of their small parcel of land, but lavender grew in the meadow near it in abundance.

The sun warmed her skin as she crossed the pasture, watching her pair of chestnut horses as they raced through the field, their tails flicking, the breeze making their dark manes stream behind them. Walking through the pasture was one of the few times Cressida felt peace these days.

It wasn’t long before the meadow stretched in front of her, beckoning her forward as she passed through the rickety gate, knowing it would only be a matter of time before that needed replacing, too.

The homestead was nearly too much for her to manage alone, but before the accident, she and Etta had been making good progress on turning the land into a home.

The scent of lavender had Cressida relaxing as she started plucking some sprigs, putting them in the large pocket of her apron. She hummed as she worked, but it did little to ease the worry that seemed to constantly gnaw at the back of her mind.

Beyond the meadow, the trees stretched high to the sky, their leaves green and rustling in the breeze.

For just a second, Cressida considered going for a walk through the woods.

Etta would be fine on her own for a half hour longer than planned, and having some time to herself would do Cressida good.

She started for the trees, freezing when she heard the deep voices.

I’m not alone.