Lacy Williams (15 page)

It was so hard, being strong for the girls when she was just as scared as they were. What would they do if she couldn’t find another job? Her savings wouldn’t last long, and if they had to move to another town, or even another state for her to obtain a new teacher job, the money would be used up that much faster.

Sarah stalked through the barn until she found an empty stall where she likely wouldn’t be found for the moment. She didn’t want any of the girls to come looking for her and see her in distress. She snuck inside and put her back to the side of the stall, hiding her face in her hands.

Thanks to the generosity of Oscar’s adoptive mother and the mysterious benefactor from Lost Hollow, the girls were outfitted for winter, but Sarah knew how fast they could grow—they would need new things by springtime, even if Susie could wear some of Cecilia’s hand-me-downs.

And what would they do about meals? The girls had teased her at that first picnic with Oscar, but their words had had the ring of truth—she couldn’t cook at all.

“What am I going to do?” she breathed. She had no plan, no prospects. She couldn’t even really count on the Montana banker—his offer of correspondence had been made before she’d had three mouths to feed.

“I’m so frightened.”

Too frightened even to pray. The words stalled in her throat and she could only hope the Father above understood the very moanings of her heart.

Motion near her ear startled her, and Sarah opened her eyes, two tears burning hot trails down her cheeks.

And froze.

The mare had stuck her head over the half wall between the stalls and her jaw was inches from Sarah’s cheek. She let out a low neigh. Almost as if she was checking on Sarah, asking “what’s wrong?”

Emotion overflowed and Sarah laughed even as she let out a soft sob. She reached out tentatively and touched the horse’s nose with her palm. It was so soft—like velvet. The horse remained still, her breath hot against the cool air of the barn on Sarah’s skin. Then the animal bobbed her head down, in effect rubbing Sarah’s palm against the bridge of her nose.

Breath filled Sarah’s lungs, expanding within her. “You want me to pet you?”

The horse neighed softly again. As if communicating with Sarah.

Sarah curled her fingers to scratch beneath the horse’s forelock. “You aren’t so scary, are you?”

The horse remained still under her ministrations. Sarah carefully watched its ears, remembering what Oscar had said before about gauging the horse’s mood.

“Just like your owner, hmm? A little frightening in the beginning, but not so bad, after all....”

“Are you talking to my horse?”

Oscar’s voice from outside the stall startled Sarah and she jumped, quickly wiping her face with her sleeve. The last thing she needed was his pity.

The horse snorted and Sarah blinked and looked up at it. Its ears were still forward—had it been trying to respond to Oscar, as well?

“I can’t believe you still haven’t named her.” There. Her voice had sounded somewhat hoarse but perhaps he would attribute it to the cold.

“I still maintain she isn’t mine to name,” he said softly, leaning one arm and his chin on top of the stall door. “You okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” She avoided the question, humming a little to disguise a sniffle. She kept her focus on the horse, turning her shoulder to Oscar but still feeling his gaze on her. She reached out to scratch the horse’s nose again.

And then he pushed into the stall beside her, close but not touching. Except then his hand closed over her elbow, and curled around to follow the line of her forearm to where she petted the horse, fingers threading between hers so they both touched the horse at once.

Everything within Sarah froze, then seemed to expand at his touch.

“What is she saying to you?” His voice was so low and close that it sent tremors down Sarah’s spine.

“She’s...she’s comforting me,” Sarah said.

“That’s what I want to do, too.” His fingers clasped her wrist and he turned her toward him, releasing her hand only to close both of his arms around her.

With her nose buried in his neck, she was surrounded by his warmth and the smells of leather and man. And everything she’d been holding back tumbled out. She let her tears fall, her fears flow as she quivered in his arms.

He didn’t speak, only brushed one hand up and down her spine. His breath warmed her temple, the day’s whiskers on his jaw rasping against the fine hairs there, as well.

He held her until her emotion had run its course. As she pushed away, keeping her face low so he wouldn’t see the tears and redness, he wouldn’t allow her escape. With one hand, he captured her wrist; the other slid along her jaw, raising her face to his scrutiny.

He brushed her cheek with his thumb; his eyes glittered down at her and then he leaned closer and his lips slanted over hers.

She clutched his shoulders, holding tightly to his strength, his steadiness.

The horse blew directly behind her, startling them apart. Oscar’s hands on her shoulders steadied her and they laughed together softly.

“We should get back to the cabin,” she murmured, and he let her go.

She kept her face averted—afraid he would read the raw emotion there. He saw too much already, and his kiss only confused her.

Stepping outside into the cold air was like waking from a dream to reality.

She should have pushed him away, not returned his kiss. He was leaving, after all. Perhaps he’d only meant to comfort her, but her emotions were entangled now and the kiss had only made things worse.

What was she going to do now?

Chapter Seventeen

O
scar knew he shouldn’t have kissed Sarah again. Inside the cabin, busying his hands with pouring a cup of coffee, he was far too aware of her. But he couldn’t retire to the barn yet. He had things to discuss with her—important things.

Bringing their emotions into this discussion wasn’t the best strategy. Not when what he felt for her was too frightening. Things were already muddled enough.

But when he’d had her in his arms, he couldn’t help himself. He’d started out the embrace wanting only to comfort her, but when it had ended, he’d wanted so much more....

He pushed away from the dry sink as she turned from peeking into the darkened bedroom doorway. They met at the table, her face pink and eyes tentative.

He motioned her into the chair across from him and sat down himself. “You’re determined to keep the girls?”

She nodded, not quite meeting his gaze. “I suppose we should get through the funeral first. I found—I found a name and address in some of their mother’s things. It could be a family member, or a friend who knows of some family.”

He was confused. “I thought the girls said they didn’t have any family.”

“So they did. But perhaps the mother was estranged, or perhaps she simply told them there was no one else. I have to—I have to check. Family is important.” She glanced up at him and he remembered her urging him to speak to his father.

“If there really is no one, then I intend for the four of us to stay together.”

He cleared his throat. “I’ve been making a list of the things around the place that can be sold. I already told the undertaker we’d trade the Caldwells’ horse for the casket and burial, but this is the rest. I want to help you and the girls make a good start of it.” He pushed the half sheet of paper he’d filled up toward her, hoping she could read his handwriting. He hadn’t exactly honed the skill since his school days, and she
was
a teacher.

Her brow furrowed as she looked down at the list. “And the items with the marks?”

“If you wanted to, those are things you could keep. For the household.” He swallowed. He was nervous about what was coming, but tried to focus on getting the conversation there.

“Now that you’ve got the girls, you’ll want to set up a household. Won’t you? If you’ve got a place of your own, having a cow to give milk and a coupla chickens to provide eggs could be a blessing.”

She glanced up at him briefly and then back at the list. “Yes, but I don’t know how to care for those animals.”

He shrugged. “You’re smart enough. You can learn.”

“I suppose...” Her voice faltered and she looked away. “I suppose it will depend on where I—where the girls and I settle. Most schools will take a winter break. Perhaps some of the teachers won’t return for the spring term. I’m just not sure...without a reference—”

Her voice caught and she stopped talking, biting her lower lip.

This was his moment. Heat scorched his cheeks and he sucked in a deep breath. “Sarah—” His voice cracked like one of his younger brothers and he had to clear his throat and start over. “I know you’ve got your banker-suitor waiting in the wings, but...”

Her cheeks pinked to an even deeper rose. Interesting. Was something going on with the banker he didn’t know about? But he couldn’t focus on that now. He took a deep breath and just blurted it out, heart thundering.

“What if you married me?”

She sat in stunned silence, her eyes wide and focused on his face. “What?” she whispered.

“What if— Why don’t you marry me, instead?”

* * *

Sarah stared at the man across from her, part of her wondering if she possibly could’ve heard him correctly. Another part of her trembled with anticipation, waiting for the assertion that his feelings had grown to match hers. Had his kiss been intended for more than comfort, perhaps as a declaration?

Her heartbeat thudded in her ears so loudly that she almost missed the beginning of his next words.

“You’ve got the girls to take care of now, and no job, and we get along all right.” He fidgeted in the chair before rushing on. “You said before that you didn’t want to marry a cowboy, but I’ve got some land near my pa and a plan for the future.” He spread his hands as if beseeching her.

“Is that...is that all?” she asked after a moment that stretched interminably long.

“What do you mean?” His forehead creased and he genuinely looked confused.

And Sarah’s heart dipped. He didn’t love her. He’d said they
got along all right,
but he’d made no mention of tender feelings toward her.

“I’m partly responsible for you losing your job—”

“So this is about your sense of duty, then?” She hadn’t meant her voice to emerge that sharp, but the hurt prickling her skin like tiny needles infused her voice. She worked to steady her words. “What about your cabin? And your horses?”

He looked at her with his brow furrowed as if he didn’t understand her questions.

“You’ve talked about going home, getting back to your cabin all by yourself. If you bring home a new wife and three children, you won’t have a moment’s peace.”

And she knew what it was like for a person to have a responsibility like that thrust upon them. Knew how it could wear on a body, could wear you down because you wanted something else from your life.

She couldn’t bear it if she became a burden to him, not when she loved him so deeply.

His face smoothed and he looked down to where his long square fingers played with a chip in the corner of the table.

“I don’t think that would be a good solution for us,” she said softy. “We’ll figure something out. It isn’t as if we don’t have some options.” She tried to smile, but the effect was pretty wobbly. But he didn’t look up to see it, anyway.

* * *

“I understand.”

Oscar kept his eyes on his hands, on the little chip of wood beneath his thumbnail.

She didn’t want him.

It was that simple.

If he’d thought his cheeks were on fire before his proposal, it was nothing compared to now.

He wanted to howl at the unfairness of it—of being in love with someone who didn’t love you back.

He wanted to get up and run out of the room, and just keep going until he got home to Bear Creek. Except it didn’t really feel like home anymore, either. And he’d just promised Sarah—and himself—that he’d help her get things in order here before he left Lost Hollow.

So he just sat there, trembling inside, and tried not to remember what it felt like the day his parents had died.

“Maybe you’re right and we should keep the cow. I’m not certain about the chickens. They seem like a lot of trouble....”

She peered down at the list as if it was intensely interesting and he suspected she was waiting for him to excuse himself.

There was a soft noise, a cry, from the small bedroom and she stood.

Grateful for the reprieve, he pushed up from the table, as well. “We can work it out in the morning. I’ll be in the barn.”

And he turned tail and galloped out of there, leaving his heart behind.

Chapter Eighteen

E
arly the next morning as she sat at the same little kitchen table, Sarah still couldn’t breathe properly. It felt as if a heavy weight sat on her chest.

Saying no to Oscar’s duty-bound proposal last night had been terribly hard. She had tossed and turned on the narrow, uncomfortable sofa most of the night, replaying their conversation and asking herself if she could’ve done anything differently.

She wondered if she should have accepted regardless of his lack of feelings for her. After all, she was nearly a spinster with only the hope of another prospect through her correspondence with the Montana banker. And that was no guarantee—they hadn’t even met in person yet, and he hadn’t yet responded to her telegram about the girls.

She’d gotten this far in life with no other proposals—no one who had even come close. Maybe this was her only chance at marriage and she’d said no.

But there was still a part of her that wanted to be loved—not to be someone’s duty. She knew better than anyone what it felt like to be responsible for people, even people you loved, and how that could eat at you. And if you were responsible for someone you didn’t love...how much more would the responsibility rankle, like a burr under a saddle?

She couldn’t do that to Oscar. And somehow, she still had a little pride left. She couldn’t do it to herself.

She considered the two blank pieces of paper before her on the table. She needed to write to her sisters and tell of the adversity that had befallen her, but the letters were hard to begin. Her sisters had looked up to her, admired her, while she’d cared for them and worked hard to support them. What would they think now that she’d lost her job and had three mouths to feed besides?

Somehow, she made herself sound calm and rational while she wrote the letters, when what she really wanted to do was pour out her feelings. Her sisters both loved the men they’d married. Surely they would understand her feelings for Oscar. But she resisted. She wrote only the bare facts and told her sisters she would write again when she knew where she’d be settling.

She’d just signed the second letter when the back door opened, spilling gray morning light inside to compete with her candle.

“Something burning? I smell smoke.”

Then the acrid odor registered and she jumped up from the table with a cry. “The biscuits!”

She rushed to the stove, where smoke poured out from the seams around the door. Using a dishtowel to pry it open, more smoke poured into the room. She waved the towel to clear it a bit until she could see the edge of the pan, then grabbed that.

What emerged was a pan of black, charred lumps. Still smoldering.

“Toss them out here,” Oscar ordered, holding the door wide.

Sarah took a step in that direction and let the pan go. It went sailing past him and landed in the yard with a clatter.

He coughed.

Behind her, the two older girls dissolved in giggles. She whirled, the dishtowel swinging from her hand. “What?”

Oscar stepped inside, looking as if he was biting his lip to keep from joining the girls’ laughter. “I meant, ‘toss the biscuits outside,’ not the whole pan. Oh, well. I suppose it will wash.”

The girls bent over double from laughing and he smiled, that crooked funny smile that she loved. She found herself responding, drawn closer to his humor and smiling herself when he seemed to remember that things were different this morning. His face closed and that smile disappeared.

Sarah turned toward the counter, not wanting him to see her hurt at his withdrawal. “I was trying to prepare breakfast, but I guess time got away from me,” she explained. She lifted the two letters from the table and slipped them in her pocket. His face darkened. What did it matter to him if she wrote to her sisters?

“I can show you how to make flapjacks real quick,” Cecilia offered shyly. It was the first overture the girl had made toward Sarah. Was the girl finally opening up?

* * *

“And I can scramble some eggs!” Susie was quick to jump in.

Oscar was left to hold little Velma. He bounced her on his knee as Cecilia instructed Sarah on the best way to stir the batter with a fork, and watched Susie cracking brown eggs into one side of the cast-iron skillet.

Velma’s attention kept returning to her sisters and the schoolteacher, those chubby arms reaching out for them.

She wanted to be part of their group, be with them.

Oscar knew exactly how she felt. He couldn’t quit thinking that this might be his last morning with them like this, together almost like a family. He wanted to see Sarah settled, wanted to be at the girls’ side for the funeral, but it was too hard. Sarah was their family now. It would be better to leave before they got too comfortable with him around.

Was he destined to forever be denied the one thing he wanted most?

“You seem sad this morning,” Susie said, surprising him when she came close and touched his cheek lightly.

“Who, me?” he asked, reaching out to poke her side.

She darted away, but didn’t giggle like he’d hoped she would.

“I know what it is,” she said.

Sarah glanced over her shoulder at Oscar and their eyes met for just a moment—just long enough for it to hurt. He blinked and looked away.

“I think you miss your family.”

Susie couldn’t know how close her words were to the truth. He did miss his pa and the whole clan. But worse than that was the ache in his bones for
this family,
for Sarah and his girls.

He had to clear his throat to speak. “Well, I’ll be home in a coupla days. Just got to make sure you gals and Miss Sarah have everything you need before I go.”

Sarah moved to the table and put a steaming bowl of golden eggs in the center. Behind her, he could see Cecilia carefully scooping a flapjack out of the pan and onto a waiting platter. They made a good team. He didn’t need to worry so much. Between the girls, who were much more self-sufficient than they should be, and Sarah, who carried so much responsibility, they would be fine.

It was him who was going to have a hole in his heart for the foreseeable future.

“I’m sure your father will be glad to have you back,” Sarah said softly. Her words threw him back to a previous conversation, one in which she’d encouraged him to tell his pa that he’d been having trouble with loneliness ever since Maxwell had left for college and Jonas and Penny’s children had started arriving.

Maybe she was right. Because right now, he sure could use some advice from his pa on how to get rid of these softer feelings for this particular woman.

* * *

In town later that morning, Sarah posted the letters to her sisters and then stopped by the bank.

When she arrived, there were two people, a man and a woman, in the teller line. Both glanced over their shoulders when Sarah came through the doors, then quickly turned forward without so much as a nod of acknowledgement or a smile.

The manager stepped out of the small partitioned area where his desk was located and approached Sarah. “Miss Hansen. Can I help you this morning?” His smile appeared stilted.

She followed him to the desk overrun with papers and perched on the edge of the chair. “I need to withdraw my savings.”

The man nodded and pulled a form from one of the desk drawers. He didn’t look at Sarah as he scrawled on it, then pushed it across the desk to her. “I have to say this is probably the best decision. Our customers wouldn’t appreciate it if we continued doing business with you.”

“Excuse me?” she asked, her words betraying her surprise.

“Someone with your...questionable morals won’t be looked upon favorably by our other clients. I’m sure you understand.”

She was so stunned she couldn’t speak for a moment. He nodded to the paper and she signed, although her hands were shaking badly. Had Paul Allen been circulating rumors about her stay at the Caldwell place? She was well aware how quickly news traveled in Lost Hollow—especially after how eagerly her students had spread the word that she and the horseman were courting, But this...the banker’s disregard for the truth and callous manner surprised and hurt her.

Had the two customers in line thought the same about Sarah? Was that why they’d ignored common courtesy and turned their backs on her upon her entrance?

Was there no one in Lost Hollow with any sense? Was everyone under Paul Allen’s thumb?

Numbly, Sarah tucked her savings into her small purse and left, her last hopes of receiving some help from the people in Lost Hollow gone.

Her mind reeled. She knew she needed to find a new job and a place for her newly acquired family. And quickly. The bank check in her purse wouldn’t stretch nearly far enough.

She should telegraph her professor from the Normal School in Cheyenne. Often the professors knew of open positions and perhaps taking action would be better than waiting to hear back from her sisters or swimming in this mire of uncertainty.

But her plan was derailed when she arrived at the telegraph office and found a short note waiting for her from Mr. Butler, the Montana banker. It was only one line, and the message was unmistakable.

Not interested in children. Stop.

Her heart plummeted and the last of her hopes faded. She ducked into the narrow alley between the telegraph office and the next building over, holding one hand over her mouth to stem her emotions.

She hadn’t known if she would really marry the banker, not without meeting the man to determine his true character, but at least she’d held out hope that she
could
marry him and have a nice future ahead of her. Until now.

Now her future looked like hard work in whatever job she could find. Just like when she’d had care of her sisters, she wouldn’t likely have time to court. And who would want to marry a woman with so much responsibility besides?

For a moment she reconsidered Oscar’s marriage proposal. Perhaps she could beg, tell him she’d made a mistake and did want to marry him.

But the prospect of a loveless marriage with the man she’d grown to love seemed too much to bear.

She would have to find a way to muddle through.