Lacy Williams (16 page)

Chapter Nineteen

T
hat night after supper, Oscar stood at the corral in the twilight, watching the mare circle, her breath puffing out in white clouds in the cold air.

He’d spent all afternoon selling and trading old man Caldwell’s junk and things Sarah wouldn’t use, to give her and the girls a good start. They now had plenty of supplies and Sarah could get rid of the chickens later if she wanted.

She was going to have to hire a wagon to take her to her next destination, once she figured out where that was going to be. Oscar couldn’t stay. It hurt too much to interact with Sarah’s new family and not be a real part of it.

He was leaving in the morning. Now he just had to tell her, and the girls. And hope that they weren’t too disappointed that he wouldn’t be around for the funeral. They seemed to be getting along better with Sarah, although Cecilia was still reserved. Wasn’t it better to make a clean break now?

The cabin door closed behind him, but in the twilight stillness, he heard it. Boots crunched in the crusty snow and then he felt it deep inside when she joined him at the railing.

“She’s yours,” he said with a nod at the horse. Hoping his Stetson hid the squint of his eyes. He didn’t want her to know how hurt he was by her rejection.

“What?” She half laughed the question. Then she seemed to realize he was serious, because she said, “Oscar, I can’t.”

The horse rounded the pen and approached Sarah, slowly but surely. When the animal was close enough, she nudged Sarah’s mittened hand until the woman gently patted her nose.

“I don’t know enough to take care of her. I can’t ride her—”

He cut off her protest when he bent and ducked between the corral railings, joining the horse inside. “We can solve that one right now.” He held up the bridle he’d had in his opposite hand as he approached the horse.

The mare didn’t back away, but it did bob its head, neighing quietly as if to warn him off.

“Easy, girl. It’s all right.” Sarah was a natural, and her touch calmed the horse as she stroked its neck with her mittened hand.

Oscar approached and the horse stood for him to put the bridle on.

“Get in here,” he ordered Sarah gruffly.

“I—” Her breath caught on her own protest and she sighed lightly, and then moved farther down the railing to join him and the horse inside.

“There’s not a saddle,” she said softly. She approached his shoulder, still showing wariness of the horse.

“Don’t need one, not for this. C’mere.” He brought her in front of him, right alongside the horse’s middle and then spread her hands on its side. He rubbed her hands over the horse so it got more used to her touch, but it wasn’t nervous at all—no quivering, no ear flicking, no stomping. The mare was ready. Was Sarah?

“I’m going to give you a boost. You swing your leg over and just settle. Try not to tense up.”

He boosted her onto the horse’s bare back, looking away when he might’ve seen a flash of petticoat. He helped her adjust her skirt around her legs and felt her muscles tighten when she looked down. Probably looked far when one was afraid of falling, but Oscar knew better.

“Look right over the horse’s ears,” he instructed. “Keep your eyes in front of you.” She still didn’t relax and he didn’t want the horse to respond to Sarah’s anxiety. “You won’t hurt yourself, even if you do fall off. Besides, I’ll catch you.”

He didn’t mention he could only catch her if she fell to his side, but his words seemed to comfort her somewhat. Her posture eased a bit.

“All right. Just feel the horse beneath you. She’s not tense. You’ll feel it if she starts to tighten up. Remember to watch her ears, that’ll also tell you how she’s feeling.”

Sarah managed to unclench her grip on the base of the horse’s mane. She smoothed out her fingers inside the mittens to the horse’s shoulder in more of a pat.

“O-okay.” Her voice was shaky. Maybe he shouldn’t make her do this.

But he wanted to leave her with something tangible to remember him by. And the horse had taken to Sarah when she hadn’t responded to him in weeks of trying.

“I’m going to guide her forward. Don’t clench up your legs. Think of it more like an embrace than a grip.”

She wobbled and nearly fell off when the mare took its first step.

“You’ve got to balance!” Oscar cautioned in as calm a voice as he could muster. She’d never forgive him if she fell off, even if they weren’t moving fast enough for her to be hurt. He needed to distract her.

“You never did tell me how you came to be so scared of horses.”

She took a deep breath, glanced at him briefly. “We lived on a homestead when I was very small. I don’t think my youngest sister was even born yet. I had a friend from one of the nearby spreads who liked to come over and play. We were playing hide-and-seek one afternoon and I hid in the barn. I don’t think she ever did find me that day....”

They’d reached almost halfway around the corral and Sarah had finally started to relax, and when her thoughts and voice trailed off, he wanted to keep her distracted. “And...?”

“My father brought in his horse, a mean-spirited thing that didn’t like anyone, but especially not him. Somehow it got loose and when I tried to escape the corner of the stall it saw me and reared. I can still hear it screaming....”

She began to tense, in reaction to her memory no doubt, but he didn’t want this horse reacting to Sarah’s body language. “Were you hurt?”

“Yes,” she said, shaking her head and coming out of the memory. “One of its hooves landed on my foot before my father pulled me out. The doctor didn’t think any bones were broken, but I was bruised and could barely walk for weeks. I got the brunt of my father’s belt, as well, for hiding in the barn.”

“And the horse?” Oscar asked, wondering if her father had known the fear that the animal had sparked in Sarah and gotten rid of it.

“He had it for years and it never got any nicer.”

And most likely being around the horse that had scared and hurt her had made Sarah’s fears worse.

“Look at you now. You’re riding,” Oscar said softly.

Sarah looked up, and gasped softly. They had already traversed the entire corral’s circumference once and were almost halfway around again.

“But you’re doing most of the work,” she argued quietly.

“You’re the one keeping the horse calm. Telling her everything is okay.”

She shook her head. “But what about a saddle? And feeding her? Don’t horses need to be brushed and cleaned?”

They reached the corral side closest to the barn and he slowed and stopped the horse with gentle pressure on the reins. He’d been right about the animal. She was a steady ride, and would be a good horse for Sarah. The mare had just needed the right owner.

He’d been right about Sarah, too. She was brave enough to overcome her fear. She’d just needed a little impetus.

He reached for Sarah’s waist, but released her quickly once her feet were on the ground. He made a big deal out of taking the bridle off the horse, so he didn’t have to face her.

“Good girl. What a good girl,” Sarah said, rubbing the horse’s nose when he released the animal. It neighed softly, almost seeming to communicate with Sarah.

Sarah glanced at him as they ducked out of the corral. “But what happens if she gets spooked?”

“Then you do the same thing you would if one of the girls gets spooked. Calm them down. I’ve seen you do it. The rest of it, you can learn.”

“But she’s...” She turned back and put her elbows on the corral’s top railing, watching the horse. “Beautiful. Big, but beautiful.”

He couldn’t help himself from one last long look at Sarah’s profile as the sunlight faded. The sweep of her lashes, that pert nose with its sprinkling of freckles. Her mouth that could sting a man with her words or spread in a sweet smile. “Beautiful,” he echoed.

“What about Belle? For her name?”

Sarah looked at him now and he forced his head to turn to the corral and the animal it contained. Hoped she couldn’t see his face in the shadows beneath his hat. “It suits her.”

He shoved his hands into the pockets of his coat. “I’m leaving in the morning. I’ll go inside in a minute and say my goodbyes to the girls, but I’ll probably be gone before sunrise.”

She was silent. For a moment, he couldn’t even hear her breathing. And then she said, “I understand. You’ve got things to get back to.” She took another breath and it almost sounded as shaky as when she’d been on top of the horse moments ago. “Thank you for all you’ve done for the girls—and for me.”

She turned to him and he couldn’t be rude enough to give her his shoulder, even if he didn’t want her to see his face. He faced her, hoping his hat and the growing shadows hid his expression.

“I’m glad—I’m glad I got to know the real Oscar. Not the reckless, arrogant cowboy I thought you were.”

She was near tears and he wanted to ask her to reconsider. He knew he wasn’t good enough for her, but he’d worked hard all his life to get to this point, and he could work hard to provide for her.

But he was too scared to put himself on the line again. She’d said no; she didn’t want him.

So he stayed silent.

When she stretched out her hand, he shook it, thankful that they both wore gloves and he couldn’t feel her skin against his.

That was it.

“Goodbye,” he said.

* * *

Sarah was awake before dawn, lying on the couch in the dark, when she heard hoofbeats in the yard. She couldn’t help herself—and went to the window to watch Oscar lead his horse into the yard and check its tack.

Thanks to the clear night and half-f moon, she could make out his silhouette and that of the animal. Only one horse, so he’d gone through with his threat of leaving Belle for her. What would she do with a horse?

She desperately wanted to run out into the yard, to ask him to stay, but she had some pride left. She didn’t want to burden him.

So she remained where she was and let the silent tears slip down her cheeks as he mounted up and rode off without looking back. Taking her heart with him.

Chapter Twenty

S
arah had been so upset about the Montana suitor’s telegram yesterday that she’d forgotten to send her wire to the Normal School in Cheyenne. It was for that reason that she and the girls had walked into town the next morning—she wasn’t quite ready to saddle up Belle and attempt to ride on her own.

The girls had been quiet, almost withdrawn, all morning. Sarah suspected they missed the horseman, as she did. His sense of humor would’ve lightened things up when she’d scorched the bottom of the eggs this morning. Knowing he was there to assist them had made things seem so much brighter.

Sarah closed one hand around the pennies she’d stashed in her pocket. She would let the girls choose a piece of candy, even though they had some left from Oscar’s Christmas party. Hopefully that would brighten their moods, at least for a bit. She suspected they would all have some adjusting to do without Oscar around. And they still had the funeral to get through tomorrow.

They’d nearly passed the train station when someone hailed her.

Sarah turned, raising one hand to shield her eyes from the winter sun’s glare, to see one of the shopkeepers pointing, directing a strange, dark-haired man toward her.

Susie scooted a little closer to Sarah’s side as the stranger approached. “Who is that?”

“I don’t know, honey.” Sarah placed a comforting hand on the girl’s shoulder.

As the man neared and his dark skin and razor-sharp features registered with Sarah, a sense of foreboding shook her. Though he was dressed in trousers and a woolen shirt, boots and a leather coat, his braided hair hung down his back and marked him an Indian.

“Are you Cecilia and Susie Caldwell?” he demanded.

Beside her, Cecilia gasped and clutched Velma closer, making the little girl cry out.

Perturbed that he’d addressed the girls first, Sarah extended her hand. “I’m Sarah Hansen. I have charge of the girls.”

“Not anymore,” the man said with no responding smile creasing his face. “I am Sitting Dog Smith. I am the girls’ uncle.”

The name she’d telegraphed. Between being fired, making funeral arrangements and Oscar’s departure, she’d completely forgotten about it.

Susie squeezed close to Sarah’s side and even Cecilia took a step closer.

“We ain’t got no relations,” the older girl stated. The same thing she’d told Sarah before.

“Mr., ah...Smith, the girls’ mother told them they didn’t have any family.”

“It was a lie,” came his words, in a bitter tone.

Sarah became aware of the curious looks from passersby and didn’t want the girls’ family business spread all over town—any more than it already was.

“Are you staying in town, Mr. Smith? Perhaps a hotel room would be a more private place to talk?”

He crossed his arms, not seeming to care that they were drawing attention. “I will stay at the homestead. You can return to your own home.”

Except she didn’t have a home anymore. Patience fraying, Sarah forced her voice to be calm and even. “Perhaps we could talk while we walk?”

She turned around and headed back out of town, ushering the girls along with her.

“But Sarah, your telegraph,” Cecilia reminded her.

“It will keep,” she murmured to the girl. Getting this situation settled took precedence over Sarah’s search for a job, at least for the moment.

Mr. Smith followed them, walking alongside Cecilia. Sarah noticed he didn’t offer to carry the toddler, leaving it to the girl.

“Let me take her for a bit,” Sarah insisted, trading the small basket she carried over her arm for the sleepy tot, who promptly laid her head on Sarah’s shoulder and stuck her thumb in her mouth.

“Mr. Smith, since I had no idea the girls had any family, all my things are at the homestead. You are certainly welcome to stay in the barn overnight.” She would have to find a way to bar the door—after all, she didn’t know the man. “I’ll depart after the funeral for the girls’ stepfather tomorrow.”

Susie tugged on Sarah’s elbow, nearly dislodging her grip on the baby. “But Sarah, you said you’d stay with us!”

Cecilia’s dull look seemed to echo Susie’s distress in a different way, almost as if she had expected Sarah to fail them.

Sarah felt as if she was drowning in a sea of failures. She’d lost her job, lost her chance with Oscar and now was losing the girls.

“Let’s get back home where it is warm and we’ll talk things through. After Mr. Smith proves he is your uncle.” She raised her eyebrows at the man in her best stern teacher expression, so he would know she had the girls’ best interests at heart. “Well, family should be together, don’t you think so?”

“But we want to be with you! We know you!” Susie cried, tears falling down her cheeks.

“Like I said, we ain’t got no family,” Cecilia spat. She ran off ahead, alone. At least she’d headed in the direction of the homestead. Sarah knew she probably needed an outlet for her emotions, now that things were changing once again. She also knew that Cecilia wouldn’t leave her sisters without her care. It was what Sarah would’ve done.

Sarah looked over to the man beside her, smiling wanly and prepared to dismiss the girls’ behavior. He only stared straight ahead with a frown marring his countenance.

“We’ll get things figured out,” she encouraged Susie instead, drawing the girl close with her free arm as Velma dozed off against her shoulder.

* * *

But things weren’t clearer the next morning. The girls’ uncle had proved his relationship to their father through several letters and a faded photograph. He had scoured the homestead, looking displeased when Sarah showed him the small amount of money she’d set aside from the trades Oscar had made.

He didn’t seem happy with anything, and had hardly interacted with the girls yesterday afternoon, only ordered them to be ready to pack their things within the next two days. He’d been preoccupied with something else. He asked her about several people in town, including her old boss, Paul Allen. She was disappointed that the man didn’t seem more interested in getting to know the girls.

Sarah worried about how the children would adjust. Cecilia would barely look at Sarah as it was, and when she did, disgust was clear on her features. Sarah didn’t know how to make things better.

The uncle had refused to attend the funeral for the girls’ stepfather. Sarah knew that even though the stepfather hadn’t been good to the girls, they needed a sense of closure. She stood with them near the open grave and listened to the preacher, not surprised when the discourse was short—there hadn’t been a lot of good to say about Mr. Caldwell. Only a few had come to pay their respects.

And now she had to let the girls go, so they could begin building a new family with their uncle. Even though it felt as if it would break her heart.

Susie had been teary and almost inconsolable last night, while Cecilia had done her best to completely ignore Sarah. She’d tried to explain to both of the girls that staying with family was the best thing, but her words had fallen on deaf ears.

And she knew her pleas must have been halfhearted, because she loved the girls. Taking on their care wasn’t going to be a burden for her, but a joy. Even though she had no job and no prospects—yet—she wanted them, wanted to be the family she’d thought they could be for the few days they’d been together.

And now she was on the verge of losing everything.

The train whistled its arrival, punctuating the end of the preacher’s words. Sarah wrapped her arm around Susie’s shoulders and reached for Cecilia but was met with a glare.

Not knowing what else to do, Sarah took the girls into the mercantile to warm up for a bit before they trudged home. She had her things packed—the small amount of items she’d taken from the Allens’ bedroom was barely enough to fill the saddlebags Oscar had left with Belle and her saddle. Without any idea where she was going, Sarah was rudderless, but she needed to be strong for the girls today.

She settled them near the potbellied stove with a piece of candy each, and asked Cecilia to keep a special eye on Velma. She went to the front of the store to try and compose herself.

Outside the window, she saw Mr. Smith confront someone on the opposite boardwalk. Was that...? It appeared to be Mr. Allen.

Sarah slipped out of the store and crossed the street, intending to find out what was going on. She didn’t think Mr. Smith knew her former boss, but she didn’t know anything about the man who’d just arrived in town.

“You caused my brother’s death!” Mr. Smith yelled at the slightly larger rancher.

“I don’t even know who you are.” Mr. Allen’s face turned an ominous red.

“He’s the girls’ uncle,” offered Sarah, coming near. “Please, can we go somewhere more private?”

Mr. Allen’s face went white.

“You see, he cannot even look me in the eye,” Smith crowed, looking to Sarah for support.

She was surprised and disgusted by the light of anger in Mr. Smith’s eyes and stepped back. What was his motive in attacking the other man as he had?

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, but—” Mr. Allen tried to back away, but the Indian followed him step for step.

“You killed my brother and I’ll have justice!”

“What’s going on here?” asked a passerby. He came even with Sarah, still well back from the two men. She recognized him as the circuit judge. She hadn’t seen him in town the past few days during her business, but perhaps he’d arrived on the train.

“Mr. Smith has just arrived in town,” she tried to explain, “to take charge of his three nieces after their stepfather died. I don’t know about this accusation—”

“I don’t care about the brats,” Smith shouted. “I want restitution for my brother’s death!”

“Well, I do!” Sarah said. “I want to raise them as my own.”

The circuit judge now turned to her. “Are you family?”

“No,” she whispered.

“You married? You look young.”

“No.”

“Well, I can’t say that I’d grant custody to a young, unmarried woman.”

The hopes that had risen in Sarah upon Mr. Smith’s words began to shrivel. “I’ve been their teacher,” she reasoned. “This man might be blood, but you just heard him admit he doesn’t want them.”

“Miss, the courts try not to interfere if there is family to take custody—”

“Please.” She blinked to stay her tears but couldn’t keep her voice steady.

“All right. We can have a hearing, but I can’t guarantee I can do anything for you. Unless your circumstances were to change.”

Mr. Allen began shouting again, but the judge waved him down.

“We’ll meet to talk about both of these matters on Friday morning. I’ll use the sheriff’s office as my chambers.”

At his dismissal, Sarah turned around, mind reeling. Friday. Two days away.

She immediately spotted Cecilia, holding Velma, and Susie across the street on the boardwalk in front of the mercantile. Susie was crying again, and Sarah could only imagine they’d heard their uncle shouting.
I don’t care about the brats!

With the judge’s words,
unless your circumstances were to change,
ringing in her ears, Sarah’s mind settled on the perfect solution. And she immediately knew what she had to do. Because she did want the girls to stay with her. She loved them.

She strode across the street, leaning down to speak directly to them. She grasped Susie’s hand first, and Cecilia’s shoulder. Surprisingly, the usually prickly girl didn’t shrug away.

“I’m going to have to leave, but I’ll be back for the hearing. I promise. I’m going to figure out a way to make this work.”

Susie’s dark eyes grew hopeful and she sniffled. Cecilia looked skeptical, but remained silent.

“I’ll be back. I promise.”

But would she be able to convince the judge to let her keep the girls?