The Teacher's Star

about the strength contained within her small frame. This was love, he was sure. It felt different from the feelings he’d had at nineteen when he’d married Deborah.
Sighing, he knew now wasn’t the time to voice those feelings. The marriage was new. Besides, they still faced danger. He’d be an idiot to spout pretty phrases in the middle of a gun battle.
Kissing her temple, he stepped back and told her to stay behind his back as they moved. She opened her mouth. Even began to question him about his wife’s death. He only shook his head and motioned for her to stay quiet.
Outside, he hunched but didn’t crawl on the ground like earlier. The shooting had stopped. Lord willing, that meant the gang had been subdued. The other possibility had his heart turning cold.
From the spot where Rol had left the sheriff, Knight stood and waved a hand. “All clear!”
Relief. It flooded like snow melt through him. Now that Delia could safely ride to the house, he had a job to do.
With her help, he found the mount she’d ridden to rescue Eenie. Before she was atop the horse, he kissed her. “Thank you for rescuing our daughter.” His emphasis brought new tears to her eyes. “Now, go home.”
She shook her head. “The sheriff said Eenie’s at the doctor’s home. I’m going to town.”
While he grumbled about stubborn women, his face wore a broad grin. Delia definitely showed stronger will than his first wife. They would be okay.
In town, word of the teacher’s race to rescue her new daughter from rustlers blew like the wind through the streets of Belle. In the mercantile, Jubal Yarborough heard it told from one gossipy woman to another. He stiffened at the words.
The land on the outskirts of Belle and beyond stretched out in a flat plain. It made it easy to see for a distance. On that horizon, the frightened gang leader saw a large group riding into town. Seeing that some of the horses were being led, he knew the sheriff was returning with prisoners.
Should he move out? Without sleigh runners on his wagon, he wouldn’t get far across the snowy Wyoming country. The train had already come through that day, only about an hour before. Rotten timing for him!
What options did that leave him? No doubt one of his men would finger Jubal as the gang’s leader. That is, if they weren’t all gunned down in a fight with the sheriff. With the lawman’s return, he’d be coming after Jubal.
Stepping quietly out of the mercantile, he slunk to his wagon. At the moment when he would have sneaked through its back flaps to gather money and a few belongings, a figure rode past.
In the dusky light, he could just make out her identity. And she was alone, perfect for his revenge. First, she’d be a hostage. Then, when he got to safety, she’d be dead.
In front of the doctor’s home, the teacher dismounted and tied her horse. So close to his wagon. Resisting the urge to rub his hands with glee, Jubal raced along the shadows of the buildings.
Grabbing her as she secured the horse, he put a large, skeletal hand over her mouth. A shiver coursed through her small body, bringing a ripple of delight to him. Sticking a pistol against her temple, he wheezed out his odd laugh.
“Got you this time, slut.”
With men riding on all four sides to surround the outlaws, Sheriff Knight led the group into town, holding the lead rope of a horse that hauled one of the wounded gang members. Another lay dead across the saddle of a fine bay gelding. Paps had the lead for another wounded outlaw.
Rol held the rope for the horse that carried Yancy, having arrested him using the warrant for robbery and murder he already held. Charges connected with the rustling were still to be added. Those wouldn’t matter much. The marshal knew he would haul the criminal back to Nebraska to stand trial for murder. With help from one of the sheriff’s deputies, he’d take Jubal Yarborough along. From there, he’d take the man to stand trial in Missouri, where he was wanted for his crimes.
The few prisoners were easily placed into their cells. Rol agreed to escort the wounded man to the doctor’s home while Knight and his men processed the others. While wounded, the rustler could still walk the short distance to the doc’s office.
With a rifle to the man’s back, Rol headed down the boardwalk. At the edge of an alley, a short form with a much taller one behind it stepped in front of Rol’s prisoner about 20 feet ahead of them. Shouting for assistance, Rol threw the wounded man to the ground, shoving a booted foot into his back while aiming the rifle at the figures standing before him.
“Back up, Anderson, or you lose a wife.”
The marshal recognized the voice threatening him. Jubal Yarborough! The very man he planned to search out after securing this prisoner.
“Why you hiding behind a woman, Yarborough? Not brave enough to face me with only a gun?”
Yarborough pushed his hostage roughly forward, causing Delia to stumble and grab for the post at the end of the boardwalk. A shovel stood there, probably left by someone who’d been cleaning away snow.
Rol heard the man growl at Delia to stand up. She moved her hand up the post. What happened next had Rol wondering if he’d taken leave of his senses.
Delia grabbed hold of the shovel and whirled. With the grace of a dancer, she swung it in an arc that connected with Yarborough’s head. His gun discharged harmlessly. That sound along with the man’s scream brought folks running from the direction of both businesses and homes.
His wife’s body continued downward, following after the man. Holding her total weight against