Lou sat down by the fence after her heart to heart with Jesse. She knew the boy was a little bit heartbroken, a bigger bit embarrassed, now that she'd had to let him down easy. She knew well enough how he felt, since it hadn't been all that long ago since she had been in Jesse's shoes. The memory of it had helped her treat Jesse gently. Finding true love in the interim had taken the pang out of the memory, but at the time, she'd thought she'd never live down the humiliation of it.
It was the week she'd come to work for the Express, still sweet sixteen, still naive in many ways, yet jaded and deeply scarred in others. She'd never been kissed, but she'd been raped; she'd never had a sweetheart, but she'd worked alongside a group of whores for a year and heard more than was good for her there. Because her first encounter with a man had not been by choice, and because she'd been exposed too soon and too fast to the worst aspects of male-female relations, she frankly was afraid of most men, afraid of their inexplicable urges. She had never really felt any attraction for a boy or man since her innocence had been torn from her at just twelve. She kept her distance from the other riders, including Kid, the better to keep her secret, and romance was simply the last thing on her mind. Until she saw him.
Sam Cain was all confidence, all man, and seemingly all courage. But at the same time, he seemed to have a gentle kind of strength; and she was smitten helplessly within seconds of first seeing him. The way he faced down those six ruffians in town alone, with just the sheer force of his own authority. The kind, gentle sparkle in his eyes as he flirted with Emma. Lou's heart had started doing strange flips in her chest as she watched him that day. Jimmy had been impressed too, though in a little brother, hero-worship kind of way, asking Sam how he'd known the leader would back down. Sam had just smiled and said that a man carrying that many guns must be afraid of everything. Lou had been struck by that, by Sam's calm exterior and lack of obvious fear. She admired that, envied it. Thought how nice it would be to have someone like that to take care of you. She had courage, but it lived side-by-side with rank fear most of the time . . .
While waiting for her first ride, she started finding excuses to go to town for Emma, and always ended up hanging around the Marshal's office, dawdling in the doorway, trying feebly to make conversation with him. She was so tongue-tied in his presence, she agonized over what a fool he must think her. But she couldn't help herself, she kept coming around every day that week. What a pest she must have been, following him around like a little puppy behind her master, but she couldn't help it. The situation was all the more ridiculous because she was pretending furiously that she was a boy, yet yearning over him just the same.
"Got any plans for supper, Marshal?" she asked one such afternoon, keeping her voice deep as she sat on a bench by his window. She watched him from underneath her wide-brimmed hat, adoringly, and glanced away hurriedly when he looked up from his papers.
"Matter of fact, I do, Lou. Goin' out to the station."
She looked up happily, a smile on her lips, forgetting to keep her head down and her face impassive. "So we'll be seeing you at dinner, then?"
"I think y'all will have eaten already by the time I get there to see Emma."
Her face fell, and she struggled to look casual, but failed miserably. "You - you -" she stammered. Of course, she'd seen Emma and Sam flirting some in town, but - - but what? She realized with a start what she was doing, hanging around this older man, who could never know who she was in any circumstance. And that yes, it bothered her that he liked Emma, even though ...
She stood up abruptly, staring at the floor and pulling her hat down. "I gotta go, Marshal," she said shakily.
"You okay, Lou?"
He was standing, a concerned look on his face at the tears standing in her eyes, and came toward her. Her susceptible heart was pounding, when he stopped in front of her. He was so tall, she thought dimly, as she swayed a little.
"You okay, honey?" he repeated gently.
She'd jerked her head up at him, frightened suddenly, now that she knew he knew, yet overwhelmed by the kindness in his eyes into a rash declaration. "I'm not okay," she blurted. "I love you." Her face burned immediately at her foolish statement, and she dissolved suddenly into even more foolish tears.
Sam's face showed not even a hint of a smile, as he quickly shut the door, guided her toward the back of the office, and passed her a handkerchief to bury her humiliated face in.
"I'm sorry," she managed, finally. "I can't believe I just said that. I must be goin' out of my mind - - I know you could never be interested in someone like me, I just couldn't help telling you -"
"Now hold on there, little lady," he said sternly. "That'll be enough of that." He tipped back her hat so it hung by its string down her back, and took off the fake glasses with his other hand. in one of his characteristic smooth, quick movements. "How old are you, Lou? The truth, now, maybe seventeen?"
"Almost..."
"Almost seventeen," he smiled now. "Lemme tell you, Lou . . . if half the young fellas in this town took a good look at that face, you'd be beating the suitors off with a stick. And if I was ten years younger, and not spoken for, I'd be first in line. So never mind talking about yourself like that. You're a mighty special little lady."
"You're just being nice, because I've made a big fool of myself."
"You ain't done no such thing. Listen, even an old man like me likes to hear somebody likes him once in a while from a pretty young gal like you. Don't worry about that."
"You won't tell Emma?"
"I won't breathe a word," he promised. "About anything."
At her downcast look, he turned her chin up. "And for what it's worth, I got a hunch a young fella'll come along before too long and make you forget all about ol' Sam. And that'll be one lucky fella." He kissed her softly on the cheek, and she blushed madly before stumbling blindly out of his office. He'd been as good as his word, never giving a hint of what had passed between them away, not when he came out to the station that night to see Emma nor any time after that. Like he'd predicted, someone else did come along, someone special who made her feel the deeper kind of love a woman feels for her man. But at the same time, she couldn't say whether she'd ever completely forget her first serious crush and stop remembering him fondly . . . since it hadn't happened quite yet.