“Did you hear me, schoolteacher?” he asked, stepping toward her again.
“Yes,” she said sharply. If she lost the anger she held toward him at that moment, she’d succumb to the fear.
And she refused to let him know she was afraid of him.
“Why are you so stubborn? You’re like an old mule I had back when I was mining. Wouldn’t move when I told him. Just like you. Throw a rock through your window, and you don’t so much as flinch.” Hardison narrowed clear eyes at her. It was the first time Marian had seen him without the effects of whiskey.
She didn’t know if that made him more or less dangerous, but the fact that he was doing this while clear-headed seemed to toss a new log into the fire of her fear.
“I knew that was you,” she countered. She didn’t for certain, of course. But both she and Cole had suspected it had been Mr. Hardison.
He smiled at her then, almost triumphantly. “That wasn’t me, Miss Scott. But I put it into motion.”
His words were cold, and they sent Marian’s mind spinning. If he’d had someone else break her window, was it possible that he’d also paid someone to toss everything about in the schoolhouse while he slept?
“I see you’re putting it all together now,” he said. “I’ve got my problems, but smarts ain’t one of them. Same with my boy. He’s smart enough without you putting ideas about schooling in his head. He needs to learn life isn’t about dreams and nonsense. Whatever he wants in this world, he’ll have to take it. He can rely on his own sense to do that.”
Marian hardly understood the man’s reasoning, but it didn’t matter. He was a selfish, cruel man, and everything he did and said proved that.
Mr. Hardison took another step toward her, and Marian pressed her hands against the desk behind her. “Don’t come any closer to me.” She tried to speak with righteous anger and not with the terrifying fear that turned her stomach over and over.
“I came here to talk sense into you, but you’re too hard-headed.” Mr. Hardison looked her up and down.
A movement behind him as he spoke drew her attention. Marian stifled a gasp.
Cole.
He’d come through the rear of the schoolhouse, probably through the window Mr. Hardison proudly told her he’d broken. How Cole had known to come here now, Marian didn’t know.
But he was here. For her.
A hundred emotions threatened to well up inside her, but she forced her face to remain as it was. If Mr. Hardison learned Cole was behind him, he might draw that gun—and Marian couldn’t imagine a world without Cole in it.
“How dare you call me hard-headed,” she said as steadily as she could.
Behind Mr. Hardison, Cole nodded toward her right as he raised a pistol. Marian quickly flicked her gaze back to the man in front of her as he continued to insult her. Cole needed her to move to the right. It clicked into place in that moment. If she moved, he’d have a clear shot at the man threatening her.
She slid to the right just a little, barely enough for the man to notice. He didn’t, continuing to brag about how her stubbornness had forced him to do everything he’d done, up to and including breaking into her schoolhouse in the dark morning hours.
As he talked, she moved again. And again. One step at a time until he’d had to turn to face her. She was out of the way now, but she didn’t dare glance at Cole again for fear she’d draw Mr. Hardison’s attention toward him.
The seconds dragged on, and just as Marian thought she could no longer bear the waiting, Cole spoke.
“Get your hands up, Hardison.” But the first word was barely out of Cole’s mouth before Mr. Hardison drew his own pistol.
Cole shot, and Marian heard herself scream involuntarily. But Mr. Hardison, free from the influence of whiskey, was fast. He’d jumped out of the way and now stood just a few feet from Marian, his own revolver pointed straight at her.
Her entire body shook, and Marian gripped her skirts to try to still her hands. “Mr. Hardison—” She stopped, uncertain what to say and afraid her voice trembled as much as the rest of her.
“Leave the lady out of this.” Cole’s voice was steady and certain, as if he’d been in this situation a hundred times. The thought reassured Marian.
He was here, and he would ensure this ended well.
Forcing herself to draw in a breath and let it out, she let her gaze return to Mr. Hardison. He still pointed the gun at her, but his attention was on Cole. “Can’t leave the teacher out of this, Deputy. She’s the one who caused it. If there’s no teacher, there will be no school to turn my boy against me.”
Cole’s eyebrows flared as a wave of nausea tried to crumple Marian. She closed her eyes briefly to let it pass. She couldn’t focus on the horrible thing Mr. Hardison had just said. Not if she wanted to keep her wits about her.
But the latter part of his words . . .
