The Teacher's Star

his eyes widened when he realized that she’d followed him.
That was fine with him. In fact, for the first time in the last hour, his spirit soared with hope. Maybe they’d make this a real marriage tonight. Then there would be no question of an annulment come morning.
Moving around her, Rol locked the bedroom door. She swallowed audibly at the lock’s click. She might be nervous, but he radiated confidence.
Taking her arm, he led her to the bed and sat with her on the crazy quilt. It was one his mother had made him two years before. In fact, it had been the last gift she gave him before influenza took her life the next winter.
He watched Delia run her hand over a velvet patch in the quilt. Then she looked up at him, her blue eyes darkened with sorrow.
“I shouldn’t be in here with you. Most folks would say it’s not right.”
Lifting her hand, he kissed it softly. “What could be more right than a husband and wife being together?”
She scowled. “You told me we’d get an annulment. I don’t think of you as my husband.”
“Start thinking that way, then. I need you, and Eenie sure as fire needs you bad.” His low words came out as a growl to his own ears. Gentling his tone, he worked to summon the charm needed to persuade her. “And I think you need us. I saw your face as you said what you wanted in a husband. I’m willing to work hard day and night to be the type of man you want.”
She pulled on the hand he held, scooting a few inches away from him. “Don’t charm me with sweet talk when you know this can’t happen. What if I’m left alone with a baby someday because you decide marrying me was a mistake.”
Stunned, he said nothing. Her chin gave a sharp nod of satisfaction. Evidently, she took his silence as confirmation that he might one day leave her. “I knew it. You only want me to care for your daughter and to sleep with you. Marriage to you would be like my mother’s slavery.”
Her voice had risen on those words. He shushed her as much to calm her down as to quiet her.
“Hush, darling. Let’s not wake Eenie.” Reaching across the small space between them, he wrapped an arm around her stiff shoulders.
“I’d never want you to think I view you as a slave.” He ran his free hand through his hair. “I don’t see you as anything but a lady and the woman that God has gifted to me.” Mentally, he added, “And one I don’t deserve.”
Then he sighed deeply. “Pastor’s words about God joining and no man putting asunder what he joined really struck me. Marriage is not something to treat casually.”
Amazingly, her resistance melted a bit at his words. Some of the stiffness left her shoulders. “What about the states where our marriage isn’t valid?”
He didn’t try to charm her as he answered honestly. “I don’t think people will question us.” At her doubtful expression, he moved his hand from her shoulders to rub her back. He smiled with secret satisfaction when she allowed the touch, melting further against him.
“There must be a lot of white blood in your family tree. You pass easily as a white woman.”
Eyes closed to enjoy his massage, she mumbled, “More white than black. Mama said most people think of a body as colored if there’s even a drop of slave blood in them.”
That brought her eyes open, reminding her that she objected to the marriage. Rol was sorry he’d brought it up. Nonetheless, the issue needed to be talked out.
“We’ll deal with it when the time comes, if it does. And we’d deal with it together. I won’t take off on you.”
To reinforce his commitment, he leaned his face close to hers. The kiss started out like the one he’d given her to seal their marriage vows. Feeling her surrender, he deepened it. He’d told the truth earlier when admitting the depth of his admiration. She’d set a fire burning in his blood. It roared into a blaze now.
Leaning her back onto the bed, brown eyes looked down into soft blue pools. He read hope and fear intermingled there. Accepting the hope as her agreement, he kissed her again. She returned the kiss, wrapping her arms tightly around him.
Tomorrow would bring problems of its own. For that night, he would forget warrants and rustlers, prejudice and doubts.
Entwined under the crazy quilt, Delia Perkins truly became his second chance.
“Where’d you move them to?”
Jubal Yarborough moved his jaw carefully as he spoke. The ragged cut healed slowly over the last week. Any movement of his mouth hurt, even smoking the cigar he held. It all reminded him of how badly he wanted to hurt Delia Perkins.
Yancy pulled out a sheet of paper, laying it on the poker table in the back room of the saloon. The owner kept it there in case patrons wanted a private game.
“See here, boss. I laid out the area on the map. Even put in the line shack we’re staying at.” He grinned proudly at his artwork.
When Jubal only snorted dismissively, Yancy rushed to finish explaining the map. “We’ve got them here,” pointing at a X marked near the cabin.
“We’re planning to change the brands next week, come a cloudy day that won’t show the smoke. Figured this canyon worked best for that, and it’s near the shack.”
Rather than speak, Jubal nodded his chin briefly and rolled up the paper. Then he ran a finger over his stitches. “I have a score to settle before we move out those cattle. How’s the pass looking?”
“Been mild. Good thing, though, is the boys found a new pass lower down. It’s already open. Soon as