“No.” She pulled the hood of her cloak over her head and took her brother’s hand.

Jess stood. “All right, then, let’s go.”

A hand crept into his. Tiny warm fingers curled against his palm, sending a rush up his arm. He looked down at Maggie clinging to him.

“Where are we going, Uncle Jess?”

He gave her hand a little squeeze. “Home.”

“Uncle Jess doesn’t like people coming around the house, Mrs. Wakefield. He says they’re all a bunch of nosy busybodies and ought to stay home looking after their own children.”

Sarah Wakefield held tight to Maggie’s hand as she picked her way around the mud puddles in the road. “This is different. I’m your teacher.”

The little girl shook her head, her blond curls bouncing. “Uncle Jess isn’t going to like it.”

Despite the dire warnings Maggie had given her since leaving the schoolhouse, Sarah pressed on, holding up the hem of her dark skirt, dodging puddles. Like the gray clouds overhead ready to burst with rain, Sarah had a few things she intended to say to Mr. Jess Logan, and she wouldn’t wait another day.

Maggie stopped and pulled her hand from Sarah’s. “This is where me and Jimmy live with Uncle Jess. We lived with Mama...before.”

Breath left Sarah’s lungs with a sigh of profound envy as she gazed at the cozy little house. White with green shutters and a sturdy roof, a neat picket fence bordered with shrubs and bushes, twin maples in the yard. Gray smoke billowed from the chimney, blending with the gloomy afternoon sky.

Sarah shuddered at the thought of the leaky, drafty cottage a short distance down the road near the school—her house. She told herself for the hundredth time since arriving in Walker that she should be happy with the house the school board provided. It was a place to live. And, it was a very long way from Missouri.

Maggie took her hand once more. “We always go in through the back. Mama said to keep the front clean for company.”

Sarah followed the child through the front gate and around to the rear of the house. A clothesline stretched across one corner of the yard and several weatherfaded outbuildings stood a short distance from the house.

“That’s my Uncle Jess.” Maggie bounced on her toes and pointed.

At the three-sided woodshed a man draped in a poncho slammed his axe into a log, splitting it cleanly in two. He stopped suddenly and spun around, his face shadowed by a black Stetson and a stubble of whiskers. Even from across the yard, Sarah felt the heat of his gaze upon her. She backed up a step.

“Hi, Uncle Jess.” Maggie skipped across the yard to him.

Jess knelt and gave her a one-armed embrace. “Did you do all right at school today?”

She nodded, then pointed back at Sarah. “This is—”

“Go on in the house, Maggie.” Stern, but not angry, he stood and gestured toward the back porch with the axe clenched in his fist. Maggie looked back at Sarah and waved before disappearing into the house.

For an instant, Sarah wanted to call the child back as she stood alone, facing Jess Logan. She’d heard the talk about him. Generally, she disregarded other people’s opinions in favor of making up her own mind. Now, she questioned the wisdom of her decision.

He took a step toward her, the shroud of the poncho widening his big shoulders and increasing his height. Sarah gulped.

“What do you want, lady?”

Sarah straightened her shoulders. “Mr. Logan, I’m—”

“I don’t care what your name is. What do you want?”

Not a shred of tolerance warmed his tone. She expected townspeople here to be different from the folks in Missouri, but she hadn’t expected a Jess Logan so soon after her arrival. “I want to talk to you about Maggie. She—”

“Goddamn it!” Jess slammed the axe into the chopping block. “How many more of you nosy heifers is the church going to send over here?”

Her eyes widened. “Pardon me?”

“Look, lady, don’t stand there pretending you don’t know what I mean. I’ve been here less than a week, and every goddamn time I turn around one of you good-intentioned Christian busybodies is poking your nose in around here. I’m telling you for the last damn time—”

“Uncle Jess! Uncle Jess!” Maggie pushed open the back door. “Something’s on fire again!”

He spat a mouthful of curses and raced across the yard. Not bothering with the steps, he leaped onto the porch and pulled Maggie from the doorway. “Stay out here.”

Sarah hurried onto the porch. Surprisingly, the child looked unconcerned. She dashed into the house, Maggie on her heels.

Black smoke coiled from the cookstove as she stepped into the kitchen. Jess pulled the door of the oven open with the toe of his boot, grabbed a towel from the sideboard and fanned the billows of smoke pouring into the room. He reached into the oven and pulled out a pan full of charred remains. Coughing, he threw open the window above the sink.