Wolf Creek Father. Penny Richards

They need boundaries. They ache for boundaries. Perhaps you should try being a father instead of a friend. They need to be brought up, not just allowed to grow up.”

      The indictment had the ring of truth that hit Colt like a blow to the solar plexus. “Now, just you hold on a minute! You’ve gone too far.”

      “On the contrary,” she retorted. “I’ve not gone far enough. Consider this a warning, Sheriff Garrett. Either you get your children in hand, or I am leaving Wolf Creek.”

      “What?”

      “L-e-a-v-i-n-g. I’d rather resign my teaching position than deal with your children for another year.” She stalked to the door, wrenched it open and turned in the aperture. “I expect you to have my spectacles replaced at your earliest convenience. And a new hat and pair of gloves would not come amiss.”

      With that, she slammed the door behind her.

      Colt watched her stomp down the walk, conflicting emotions darting through him. Anger, guilt and worry for certain. And just a hint of something he couldn’t put his finger on. It felt a little like grudging admiration.

      * * *

      Shoulders back, chin high, Allison stalked down the street and turned the corner. Only when she was confident she could no longer be seen from the sheriff’s office did she release the fury, uncertainty and misery that had driven her to a showdown. Waves of self-reproach swept through her.

      With a little groan of shame, she ripped off her damaged glove and used it to blot at the tears that slipped down her overheated cheeks. She had acted in the most amateurish way possible. Never in her life had she talked about and accused children the way she just had! The fact that what she’d said was true did not give her license to indulge in such an unladylike, unprofessional and peevish manner.

      A sound that resembled a strangled laugh escaped her. Dear sweet heaven. Had she really left Colt Garrett with the ultimatum that he gain control of his children or she would quit her teaching position? She’d been fortunate to land her position in Wolf Creek, and she had no idea where she would go or what she would do if the sheriff called her bluff.

      Never mind calling your bluff. When he tells the mayor what happened and word gets around town, you won’t have to quit—you’ll probably be fired. The thought was like a slap in the face. What parent would want a woman with so little control instructing the town’s children? She gnawed on her lower lip and dabbed again at her eyes. There was no helping it. She must confess to the mayor what she’d done before he heard it elsewhere.

      Her shoulders slumped in dejection. She liked it here. She didn’t want to leave, though she’d spent much of the past few years moving from place to place after begin jilted by her lifelong love. Growing up a pleasingly plump redhead with freckles had not been easy, not when her sisters, Belinda and Ellie, were both not only pretty, but also sweet and good. Though everyone said Allison was just as delightful and nice, when compared her to her beautiful sisters, she had always come up short, feeling as if she were somehow a shoddy replica, second-rate and inadequate.

      Her sisters were exotic hothouse orchids; she was the spinster, the wallflower—her name for herself—the one who went unnoticed or was asked to do the tedious tasks no one wanted to undertake. She was the one asked to watch the children while others indulged in the entertaining activities. She was the one to pick up the slack wherever or whatever it happened to be.

      She found scant consolation in the knowledge that the dictionary said that the upright, woody stems of wallflowers gave them strength, resiliency and tenacity, enabling them to thrive on cliffs, rocks and walls. Though many would consider those wonderful traits, they were hardly the qualities men found attractive.

      Ellie and Belinda were beautiful; Allison was robust. Ellie and Belinda were accomplished in many areas; Allison was adequate. Except when it came to her vocation. At teaching, she excelled.

      In fairness, her sisters had done their utmost to try to make up for the unfair comparisons, and Allison felt no hard feelings toward either of her siblings...at least not once she gained adulthood and was able to put her feelings of inferiority into proper perspective.

      Jesse Castle had been her anchor, her friend, her playmate, her other half since they were children. A bit of a bookworm himself, he’d understood and accepted and loved her for who she was, not for how she looked. They’d been just two months from their wedding day nearly ten years ago, when he’d taken her aside and told her that he was terribly sorry, that he loved her dearly, but that he was not in love with her. He had fallen for pretty, vibrant Callie Boxer, who’d come to spend the summer with her grandmother. He wanted to make his life with her.

      Allison hadn’t been just shocked; she’d been devastated. Shamed. Embarrassed. Since childhood, everyone had taken it for granted that she and Jesse would marry and spend the rest of their lives living out a happily-ever-after fairy tale.

      Feeling his rejection as if it were the weight of the world, she had cried the entire summer and shut herself off from everyone but her family. She’d spent her time at the park or a hidden corner of the parlor reading Miss Jane Austen’s novels over and over—which infuriated Belinda, who claimed doing so was comparable to wearing a hair shirt.

      In many ways, the stories were painful to read, but at the same time a tiny part of her battered heart clung to the nebulous hope that perhaps someday she might find the happy ending she so desired.

      Feeling that her only chance at marriage was gone and harboring the outlandish notion that she could run from her heartache and shame if she only ran far enough, Allison mapped out a course for her life that would satisfy her as well as give her something at which she excelled. Something that would enable her to provide for herself and thus to need no man.

      She would become a teacher. The best teacher ever. Through the years she had moved from job to job and town to town in an effort to put distance between herself and her heartache, only to realize that it followed her wherever she went.

      She hadn’t exactly blamed God for what had happened, but she wasn’t on the best of terms with Him, either. Then, a couple of years ago, Belinda had grown weary of Allison’s refusal to let go of the past and had taken her to task for continuing to wallow, as she so indelicately phrased it, in her unhappiness.

      She’d said that yes, Jesse was a nice enough young man, but he had not been perfect, nor had God thrown away the mold after creating him. There were thousands of men out there just as kind, just as understanding, and equally willing and capable of loving her. And, she’d added, there was one special man out there who would sweep her off her feet and make her forget Jesse Castle ever existed. Furthermore, Belinda told her in no uncertain terms, Allie should be thankful that she had not married Jesse and then discovered that he didn’t love her as he should.

      Belinda also lectured at length about how Allison clung to her grief, using it as a shield to protect her from further hurt, and how she refused to allow the Lord to work in her life to ease the pain of her loss and bring her peace.

      Belinda believed that Allison had adopted the notion that if she didn’t allow joy and happiness into her life, it could not be snatched away from her again. Her sister had finally convinced Allison that she should embrace life and everything it had to offer, even if it did cause occasional hurt. Experiencing down times, sorrow and pain, only made the good times sweeter.

      Allison had taken her sister’s loving counsel to heart. With much prayer and the Lord’s help, she had changed her attitude, not only about embracing life, but also with regard to her own shortcomings. She took inventory of herself and realized that while she was no great beauty, she had nice, though unremarkable, features and was at the very least passably nice-looking. There was not much she could do about the color of her hair or its unmanageable curls, but she could brush and pin it into subjection. She was intelligent. Kind. Patient. And loving.

      She’d made peace with the possibility that perhaps it was not her lot to marry and have children of her own, but as a teacher she had the opportunity to mold and influence dozens of young lives. She felt she was on her way to contentment