Lacy Williams (14 page)

She paid him, but hesitated before getting up, fingering the letter from her Montana suitor in her pocket. “Perhaps I should send another, as well.”

She’d been thinking about it the entire trip into town. When she wasn’t dwelling on how she wished things with Oscar were different. Now that the girls were going to be her responsibility, she should really let the banker know. She could only hope that he would understand that things had changed, and welcome the girls as she did.

Perhaps a letter would be better, but as the circumstances had changed very quickly, she thought he had a right to know now.

She made a decision. “Will you help me compose something else?” she said, settling back at the table with Mr. Cooper.

Chapter Sixteen

A
fter they’d picked up the girls from the parsonage, the only destination left was the Allens’ ranch.

Sarah’s stomach clutched the closer they got. No doubt Mr. Allen would be angry, especially after his threats at the pageant. Could she salvage her job by explaining the situation? And surely the man would be more compassionate when faced with the fact of Mr. Caldwell’s demise. She hoped.

She needed to make sure Clara was there. Mr. Allen’s wife was much more understanding. She might be able to calm his temper and help him see reason.

But what if he refused to come around? Sarah had been trying not to think about the possible ramifications of directly disobeying her boss for the past two days. But now that her reckoning was here, she couldn’t stop wondering what she would do if he did fire her.

She couldn’t have done anything differently. Her conviction wouldn’t have stood for it. No matter who the girls’ parents were, no matter what their situation. They were just little girls and deserved to be taken care of.

They turned into the Allens’ yard before she was really prepared.

Oscar met her eyes as he reined in the horses. His steady look at once asked if she was ready to face this and told her he would stand beside her.

For now, until he left for his life back in Bear Creek.

She hiked her chin. She’d made her own decision to visit the Caldwell place the night of the storm. She’d decided she couldn’t leave the girls without a home. She would find a way to take care of them, same as she’d taken care of her own sisters.

Clara answered the door at their knock. Her eyes widened when she saw Sarah, then her mouth dropped open when she saw the girls clustered around and Oscar standing a half step behind.

“Where have you been?” she barked.

Sarah moved into the kitchen, motioning the girls inside with her. “Is Barbara in her room? I thought the girls might like to visit.”

Clara’s brows gathered, but she ushered the girls toward the bedroom.

“Clara—” Mr. Allen’s voice preceded him, but not by much. He filled the doorway, his face reddening almost immediately in a show of temper.

“Where have you been?” he boomed.

Clara hurried back into the room, standing half-hidden in her husband’s shadow.

Oscar moved to Sarah’s elbow, a silent show of support.

“You know that I went to the Caldwells’ place, and then the blizzard hit.” Sarah did her best to make her voice confident, but not confrontational.

“We would’ve been risking our lives if we would’ve tried to make it here through that blizzard.” Oscar joined the conversation.

“You should’ve come home with us in the first place,” the older man said. Something was wrong. Though the set of his features showed anger, his words were too calm.

“Mr. Allen, I can promise you that nothing untoward happened.” Oscar stood stoic and tall beside her. “I slept in the barn and Sarah stayed in the cabin with the girls.”

“Unfortunately, it isn’t only what actually happened—which is only your word to go on—but what this looks like to the town, the county. The school board has to ensure appearances are kept up, you understand.”

“There were other circumstances, as well,” Sarah said. “Something that I hope you’ll listen to with an open heart. The girls’ stepfather went out in the storm and...froze to death.”

Mr. Allen’s face whitened for one moment. Behind him, Clara sank into a chair at the table.

“I’ve told the girls that I would care for them.” Sarah refused to make it a question.

“Sarah, you can’t,” breathed Clara. “You’re a single woman.”

“She’s right,” Mr. Allen blurted out. “Leave them to someone else.”

“Who else?” asked Sarah. “Is there anyone in this town who would take them in, other than me?”

“Let their family come and get them.”

“They are convinced they have no family.” Sarah spared one thought for the telegraph she’d sent. But she didn’t even know if that person was still alive, let alone if they were relatives.

“There’s Indians aplenty a couple towns over,” he said with a shrug. “Take them over there.”

“I won’t,” she said firmly. “They were my students first, my responsibility. And I’ve grown quite fond of them.” And she refused to let them end up on their own, like she and her sisters had.

“How are you going to support yourself and three little girls without a job?” asked Mr. Allen.

Sarah swallowed hard. “Sir, we explained that nothing untoward happened.”

“But that’s not what it looks like.”

Her heart sank. He wasn’t listening.

“Mr. Allen,” Oscar offered, “if I have to, I’ll go visit the other school board members and every single household in Lost Hollow to explain what happened. Sarah didn’t do anything wrong.”

The older man sneered at him. “She chose to associate with the wrong people.”

Sarah turned her gaze on the rancher’s wife. Her last chance at saving her job. “Clara, you know me. You know my character, and you have since I arrived in Lost Hollow.”

The other woman lowered her eyes to her hands clasped on the table in front of her. Sarah’s heart plummeted. The other woman wouldn’t even say one word on Sarah’s behalf.

“Even if folks in town believe you, they aren’t going to go against my wishes,” Mr. Allen said. “I bring in the most cash to this town. No one wants me to take my business elsewhere.”

Sarah knew he was right. Knew he wouldn’t bend. Her knees were weak, and only Oscar’s supporting hand beneath her elbow kept her upright.

“I can’t believe you would be so cruel because of some bias you have or had against their parents.” Oscar remained strong and resilient beside her. Unflinching, a man as immoveable as a mountain.

“One has nothing to do with the other,” refuted Mr. Allen. “As school board chair, I can’t countenance even a hint of immoral behavior.”

“You and I both know Sarah would never do anything immoral,” Oscar spat back. “So you’re firing her because of her compassionate heart and the fact that she wants to help three little girls who have no one else.”

A small gasp drew Sarah’s attention to the hallway that led to the bedrooms, and the short shadow that ducked away. One of the girls. Most likely Cecilia.

Well, it couldn’t be helped if she’d overheard part of their conversation. It wasn’t as if Sarah losing her job was going to be a secret once they returned to the Caldwells’ place. Plans would have to be made.

Beside her, Oscar took a deep breath and Sarah knew he would keep fighting—fighting for her—but she also knew it was no use. Once Mr. Allen had his mind made up, there was no changing it.

She placed a hand on the horseman’s arm. “Leave it,” she said softly. “He won’t change his mind. And I can no longer continue working for someone like him.”

She looked to Clara, whose eyes were red-rimmed but remained silent. That wasn’t the kind of wife Sarah wanted to be—not ever. Someone who couldn’t stand up for right, whose husband refused to listen to reason.

“I’ll gather my things,” she said to Clara, not asking permission from Mr. Allen. “Do you have a crate I might use?”

“And you and I can settle up.” Oscar directed his words to Mr. Allen. “Unless you need my help,” he turned to say to Sarah before she moved away.

His eyes met hers and promised that whatever she needed, he would do.

She was able to give him a trembling smile and a small shake of her head.

Somehow she made it to the bedroom she’d shared with Barbara. Inside, Barbara played with Susie and Velma on her bed, wrinkling the quilt with their antics. Cecilia stood with crossed arms in the middle of the room, jaw set and with a half-wild look in her eyes.

Sarah locked eyes with the girl and didn’t hold back her disappointment or the slight fear that sickened her stomach. But she tried to convey that somehow, they’d get through this together.

Sarah moved to the bed and untucked her mother’s quilt, folding it into a neat square. Barbara looked on with wide eyes, but said nothing as she played with Velma. She was a smart girl. Perhaps she’d overheard her parents speaking of plans for Sarah after the Christmas pageant.

“Miss Sarah, what’re you doing?” asked Susie, coming to stand at the side of the bed.

“I’m packing my things,” she said, surprised at how even her voice sounded. “Barbara won’t have room for the four of us—the three of you girls and myself—to stay. I’ll be moving into your cabin until we make further plans.”

“Oh,” was the only response, but it was a quiet word from the usually exuberant Susie. Had she picked up on Sarah’s despondence?

The two drawers with Sarah’s underthings were next, and her three dresses removed from the pegs on the wall and folded. She only had the plain bonnet and the fancy one she’d worn to the picnic. Those went in the pile on the bare bed, as well.

She had a small bundle of letters kept from her sisters, the few books from her childhood she’d been able to keep and her school things. Her meager savings were kept at the bank; she would have to face town at least once more to obtain them and close her account.

All of her things together would barely reach halfway to the top in a standard-size crate.

It wasn’t much to represent her life up to now. She’d hoped to begin building a life together with someone, a husband, to share memories with. Would that dream ever come to fruition?

* * *

Oscar followed Allen into the man’s study, feeling itchy and hot all over. He couldn’t believe that the man had no sense of honor, that he would make a woman and three little girls’ lives miserable because of his own prejudice.

“Looked at the colt with my brother-in-law Ty this morning, saddled him up and took him around the ring. Seems you did a decent job,” the older man said grudgingly.

Oscar didn’t reply, only crossed his arms over his chest. He knew the job he’d done—the man wouldn’t find a better trained horse on his spread.

“I’ll honor our agreement,” continued Allen as he bent over the desk and began writing out a bank check.

Oscar couldn’t leave without fighting for Sarah one more time. “You’re making a mistake,” he said. “Sarah has the biggest heart of anyone I know. She honestly cares about not only those three little girls, but every kid in that class. I heard the parents saying nothing but good things about her the night of the pageant. You’re not going to find another teacher like her, no matter how far and wide you look.”

The older man’s face turned beet-red. He ripped the check from its holder on the desk and thrust it at Oscar, looking as if he wanted to rip up the check, too.

“My mind is made up.”

Angry on Sarah’s behalf—he refused to examine the fury searing through him too deeply—Oscar wheeled and walked out. He met Sarah in the front hall, carrying a half-f crate. The girls were slightly behind her, all bundled against the cold already.

“Let me get that,” Oscar insisted, taking Sarah’s burden for himself. It wasn’t heavy in the least. “This it? Nothing in the barn? A trunk stored somewhere?”

She shook her head slightly, eyes shiny. Was she close to tears? Oscar’s heart rocketed and he headed for the front door. No sniffles sounded behind him. Maybe she was all right.

He kept thinking that all the way home, though she was quiet, and all the way through supper. Right up until Cecilia burst up from the table with its emptied dishes, shaking and red-faced.

“You can’t really be this peaceful,” she accused Sarah, pointing a shaking finger at her. “Just say it. Say that we’re the reason you got fired.”

“Miss Sarah, you’re not gonna be our teacher anymore?” asked Susie, now with a wobbly lower lip.

Sarah’s face went white, and Oscar had to stop himself from reaching out to her. It wasn’t his place. No matter how brave she’d been this afternoon and no matter how badly he wanted to.

“No, dear. I’m going to be your guardian. And you don’t have to call me ‘Miss Sarah’ anymore. It’s just Sarah.”

“You got fired because of us,” Cecilia said, voice thin. “Why aren’t you mad?”

“I was let go from my position because of the choices
I
made, Cecilia. I already told you girls about my mother dying and my father’s bad accident and how I had to take care of my sisters. My father chose to do a dangerous job—mining. He chose it because he thought he would be able to find gold and get rich. But it was a dangerous choice and he lost the ability to work and take care of his family, and he never got rich.

“My choice wasn’t dangerous, but it was life-altering, too. I saw the way people from town treated you and your sisters and I didn’t like it. I tried to help you while your stepfather was alive and now that he’s gone, I still want to help you.”

“Why?” Cecilia demanded. “Why do you care? Why don’t you leave us alone like everyone else? Send us away?”

“Because I care about you,” Sarah said quietly. “All three of you have snuck into my heart. If you can’t think of me as your mother, think of me as your older sister, because in my heart you are my sisters.”

Cecilia looked at her for a long moment and Oscar thought the girl would relent from holding on to the reserve she used to protect herself, but she finally just turned and swept into the bedroom, closing the door quietly.

Susie came around the table to embrace Sarah while Oscar helped Velma out of the towel they’d tucked around her middle to keep her upright in the kitchen chair.

“I’m glad you’re not gonna leave us,” murmured Susie into the shoulder of Sarah’s dress. “I love you, Miss Sarah. I mean—just Sarah.”

Sarah smoothed the girl’s hair. Watching her, Oscar couldn’t help but admire her courage in the face of the security she’d just lost when she’d lost her job. She was good for the girls, and he doubted it would take long for her to win Cecilia over.

They would be a fine little family.

But didn’t a family need a father figure, as well?

* * *

When Oscar insisted on cleaning up the supper table, Sarah escaped to the barn. It was too cold to stay outside, and since her adventure with Oscar’s horse in the snow, she wasn’t quite so afraid to venture inside.

She needed a place to hide before she burst.