Lacy Williams (7 page)

It was the most serious she’d ever seen him, as he gazed down into her eyes and squeezed her hands between his. If the man was ever to turn that intensity on a gal, one would certainly be hard-pressed to ignore the flutter of butterflies his coffee-colored eyes engendered.

Which was why it was a relief when he grinned and sent her off with a gentle push.

Mostly a relief.

Her first call seemed promising when Mrs. Anderson, the mother of one of her students, welcomed Sarah and ushered her into the kitchen with a smile. They sat down and Sarah accepted a cup of tea, wondering how best to broach the subject of the Caldwell girls.

“Minnie tells me you and the horseman are courting.”

Sarah choked on her first sip of tea. Eyes watering and throat burning, she dabbed her mouth with a handkerchief. “Excuse me. I’m so sorry.”

The other woman winked conspiratorially. “Should we be worried about finding a new schoolteacher next year?”

It would be necessary if Sarah were to marry. Most schools didn’t accept married schoolteachers, unless they were male.

Heat rose in her face, but Sarah knew she had to find some way to be polite. She tried to think of the girls she wanted to help instead of the fact that people in town were clearly gossiping about her. “I’m sorry—I don’t know where your daughter got the idea that we were courting, but it isn’t true.”

Now Mrs. Anderson’s brows lowered. “Minnie isn’t one to tell tales,” she said. “She said he’d called for you at the schoolhouse and some of the children heard you making plans to see each other.”

Then the other woman’s face smoothed. She reached across the table and patted the back of Sarah’s hand. “I’m sure it’s all new and you don’t want the man getting a little nervous if he overhears something in town. Well, don’t worry, dear. Men don’t pay attention to the sort of gossip that we women love to partake in.”

“I’m not worried,” Sarah said sharply. Working to soften her tone, she went on, “There’s nothing between the horseman and myself.” Even if her stomach was full of butterflies, it didn’t mean Oscar White held any attraction for her. “I actually came calling today to talk to you about another matter. There are a couple of girls in my classroom who are in need. I was hoping that...perhaps you and some of the other women in town—other mothers who understand the importance of a child being properly clothed during the kind of winters we have up here—might show some charity toward them.”

Mrs. Anderson went stiff in her hard-backed chair, teacup clacking against the saucer as she set it down. “I know who you are speaking of and I’m afraid it’s impossible.”

Heat worse than what Sarah had felt when the woman had brought up Oscar scalded her cheeks. “I’m disappointed to hear that. I thought that such a fine, upstanding woman of the community such as yourself would want to help with this situation.” Sarah knew she should temper her words, try to cajole the woman into helping in some way, but she couldn’t. Not after being disarmed by gossip about herself and the horseman and the woman’s quick dismissal of Cecilia’s and Susie’s needs.

Now the other woman’s cheeks blazed pink. “Perhaps you would be better served worrying about yourself and your marriage prospects instead of prying into matters better left alone. And insulting me—”

Sarah stood and excused herself with a nod, afraid that if she opened her mouth, the words that would erupt would only deteriorate the situation further. She swept out of the house.

The rest of her calls fared no better. Each woman seemed happy to see her, eager to gossip about the horseman. But when Sarah expressed her reason for the calls she was shut out in every case.

Did the people of Lost Hollow have no compassion?

And without their help, how could Sarah and her meager salary provide what the girls needed?

Chapter Seven

O
scar could guess Sarah’s meetings hadn’t gone well by the tense set of her shoulders and the white lines around her mouth when he next saw her.

What were they going to do for the girls if no one was willing to help? He supposed he could dip into his savings, but if he spent the funds he’d been saving for the stallion he wanted, he’d have to take another job before he could return home, before his dreams could be fulfilled.

But what of the girls and their needs?

His grumbling stomach made it hard to concentrate on anything else, but he gave it an attempt, tucking Sarah’s arm through the crook of his elbow and leading her toward the edge of town.

It was a measure of how upset she was that she didn’t seem to notice the two horses he led by their reins, walking behind.

“Let’s get something to eat and you can tell me all about it.”

“I don’t want to talk about it. I’m so angry I could just scream.”

At the edge of town, they reached the same picnic area where the basket auction had been held weeks ago, and this seemed to finally break through to Sarah’s consciousness. She looked around, noticed the horses and her arm tensed in his.

“I suppose you’re really not taking me to the hotel dining room, then?” she asked. But she didn’t sound terribly disappointed. Almost sounded relieved, and he wondered if he should be insulted she didn’t want to be seen with him in public. Or perhaps it was something else entirely.

Oscar released her arm and moved to untie the blanket he’d stowed behind Pharaoh’s saddle. He passed it to Sarah, who watched with narrowed eyes.

“I’m going to ground tie the horses. They won’t be too close to us,” he reassured her. “Spread the blanket, Miss Schoolteacher.”

She did, not commenting when he tied the horses probably closer than she would’ve liked. The animals seemed happy enough to graze in the crisp fall grasses. Oscar returned to Pharaoh’s saddle and unhooked the picnic basket he’d packed that morning, joining Sarah on the blanket.

She stared off to the horizon, and startled when he bumped her knee as he settled.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Yes. No! I can’t believe there’s not one woman in town whose heart is compassionate enough to see that those girls need help. The lot of them are worse than gossiping schoolgirls....” Her voice trailed off and she shot him an embarrassed look at him before going quiet.

Oscar set out two plates, smiling to himself when she dove into the basket and came up with the silverware. He flinched when she gestured wildly and the knife came his direction.

“Do you know, one of the wives actually said she wanted to help, but she couldn’t go against her husband? We were alone in the house, but she whispered it as if he could hear her.”

Because he couldn’t hide his smile at her fervor, he was careful to keep his face averted as he took out the roasted chicken he’d made for the girls’ lunch today and saved a portion of.

“I thought you didn’t want to talk about it,” he said, keeping his voice as level as he could.

She met his eyes and he couldn’t help the smile that quirked his lips.

“This isn’t funny.”

“You’re completely right,” he said. “It’s just you’re delightful when you’re angry—as long as it’s not with me.”

Now it was her turn to keep her face averted. Was she blushing? Yes, the tip of her nose was bright-pink.

He handed her a plate piled with chicken and the potatoes he’d roasted with it and a buttered slice of bread from a batch earlier in the week. “Maybe we’ve just got to think of something different. Don’t know why I didn’t think of this before, but I’ll send a telegraph to my ma and pa. I’m sure they’ve got some things from the tots that would fit Velma. And they might be able to send some money for Cecilia and Susie. Oh, and what if we wrote to the church in Bear Creek? Even if they took up a small collection, it would help the girls and maybe even help Caldwell figure out a way to get through the winter.”

“Would they really be willing to help?” The seed of hope in her voice warmed him.

“I don’t see why we couldn’t ask.”

His idea seemed to calm her a bit. She tucked into her food as if the morning’s business had fueled her appetite.

They ate for a while in silence, until he asked, “You mail your letter?”

Her face turned charmingly pink again, and he grinned, stretching out to lean on one elbow while he finished his food.

“So how come you haven’t married yet?” he asked. “If you want to get married so bad.”

“I haven’t had time for courting.” She didn’t quite meet his eyes when she said it.

“Seems like you’d make time for that, if you really wanted to get married. Maybe your standards are too high. What’s wrong with cowboys, anyway?” He was teasing her, but one little part of him was curious. What was so wrong with the profession? He’d done well for himself both working cattle and participating in cowboy exhibitions—well enough to get a start on the life he wanted.

She looked up at him sharply. “For one thing, they’re arrogant and nosy.”

Oscar just grinned. He loved to rile her up.

“And also, their jobs are particularly risky. How can a cowboy support a family if he gets hurt trying to do his job?”

“Some are risk-takers—it’s the nature of the cowboy’s personality. But not all,” he argued. He considered himself a cautious sort. Of course, there were no guarantees one wouldn’t get hurt on the job, but he made an effort to be aware of the animals he worked with and not take any unnecessary risks.

She gave him a look that said she begged to disagree. But when she spoke, her question surprised him. “Why aren’t you married?”

He considered the question momentarily. Had considered it before, especially when loneliness and being away from home started eating at him. The truth was, everyone he’d loved had up and abandoned him. Why trust his heart to a woman when she’d likely do the same? He was better off making his own plans, taking care of himself.

He shrugged. “Just haven’t. Anyway, we were talking about you and your marriage prospects. There hasn’t been anyone you’d consider courting?”

She shrugged. “There was someone back when I was at the Normal School, but there were other circumstances and he...he didn’t want to wait.”

“What circumstances?”

Her eyes flashed at him again. “Do you always have to ask so many questions? If you must know, someone had to provide for my sisters!”

At her exclamation, the horses shifted, and Sarah looked frantically in their direction, clapping one hand over her mouth.

Oscar chuckled. “They’re just moving around a little. Nothing to worry about.”

“How—how can you tell?”

“You might think a trainer just slaps a saddle on and bucks the spirit out of a horse.”

Her cheeks turned another interesting shade of pink. Had she really thought that was what his job was about?

“But each horse is a little different,” he continued. “And if you can learn to read them, you’ll realize what mood they’re in. And know when you should move outta their way or when they welcome you.”

He sat up and edged closer to her on the blanket, bringing them shoulder-to-shoulder. “Look at Pharaoh, here. That’s the gelding.”

He pointed to the nearer horse, grazing placidly not far from their blanket. “He’s pretty much ignoring us. See how his tail is flicking and his ears are forward? Even his posture is pretty relaxed—he’s just enjoying his snack.”

“And the other one?” Their heads were so close that her softly spoken words were barely more than a puff of warm, moist air across his cheek.

Close enough that if he turned his head, he could capture her lips with his. But she’d just told him she wasn’t interested in cowboys—him included.

“She’s a little more skittish, as you know. Look at her ears....” He gestured toward the mare, whose ears were flicking forward and back, a sign she was paying more attention to Oscar and Sarah than the other horse.

“And she hasn’t turned her back to us. As a prey animal, that would make her too vulnerable. But she’s not scared—just aware.”

Sarah remained still at his side.

“What’s her name?” she whispered.

“She doesn’t have one yet.”

“You’ve had her for weeks and you haven’t named her?” Now she turned slightly toward him, bringing their faces into close proximity. Her eyes widened slightly as she seemed to realize just how near they were.

For his part, Oscar couldn’t look away. Her golden lashes surrounded those deep blue eyes. And mesmerized him.

“I like to get to know the horse—really know her—before I name her,” Oscar murmured, his voice caught somewhere between his breastbone and his mouth.

She blinked, and abruptly turned her head and shoulders away, even scooted away from him on the blanket.

“So why’d you have to support your sisters?” he asked quickly to cover the awkwardness of the moment. The closeness had been shattered. Obviously, she still felt he was not to be completely trusted. “What about your parents?”

She nervously plucked at the gathers on her skirt. “My mother died when I was thirteen. After that, my father got a wild idea to join a couple of men in a gold mine venture. The mine collapsed on them. One man died and my father was injured badly enough that he could no longer work. He had had a little money saved up, but that ran out quickly without him being able to hold a job.”

Oscar could guess the rest. “And you left school early and went on to be a teacher to take care of your sisters.”

Her nod was all the response he got but less than he needed. He’d had no idea what her family situation had really been like. It made sense for the fact that he hadn’t been close to Sarah back in Bear Creek, but even Sally had never made any mention of their circumstances.

No wonder she was so concerned with a trio of little girls who didn’t have anyone else to take care of them—she could identify with their plight. Had she and her sisters had to scrounge for food? Clothing?

His admiration for her grew. She’d been thrust into a bad situation—much like he had. But she hadn’t had the choice to run away when she’d been abandoned. She’d had to take care of her two younger sisters. And she’d found a way to do it successfully, putting their needs above hers, and above the family she wanted for herself.

She was so much more than the bossy girl he remembered from Bear Creek.

* * *

Sarah glanced at the man beside her from the corner of her eye. She was uncomfortable with the turn the conversation had taken—and uncomfortable with the way he’d been looking at her.

Like he wanted to kiss her.

For a moment, she’d thought he would. For a moment, she’d wanted his kiss.

How foolish was that? If someone drove by on the road and saw them, and reported back to Paul Allen, her job could be in jeopardy.

Worse, what if she started developing feelings for the horseman? She absolutely couldn’t act on the attraction she felt for him. No matter what. Her heart could not become involved.

And the compassionate look in his eyes was only confusing her. Almost as if he understood what she’d been through.

She spared a thought for what her sister Sally might think. Likely she would cheer Sarah on, encourage a pursuit of the horseman. Sally knew how deeply Sarah longed for a family of her own. And even after their childhood romance had changed to strictly a friendship, Sally was fond of Oscar.

Those thoughts weren’t helping.

She reached for the picnic basket on the corner of the blanket and dug inside, grabbing the apple she’d seen earlier and a knife that had slid to the bottom.

Right now, the man was more dangerous than the horse, and she would rather face the hazard she could see.

“Will she... Can I share this with her?” she asked, not quite able to meet Oscar’s eyes.

“Sure, we can try. Here—” He knelt on the blanket and assisted her until she was standing.

“We won’t approach her.” He halted Sarah with a hand at her elbow, just past the edge of the blanket. “Let’s wait and see if she’ll come to us.”

He took the apple and knife, and started slicing it into small pieces.

“What should I do?” Sarah’s heart pounded frantically now that she’d committed to this course of action. What if the horse spooked and charged her, the way it had that first day of Oscar’s arrival? Where could she go to escape? The field was wide-open.

“Relax. Didn’t I promise I wouldn’t let you get hurt?”

He plopped a moist piece of apple into Sarah’s hand. “They can tell when you’re frightened, and then they wonder what’s making you so nervous.”

“But I
am
nervous.”

He considered her, leaning his head to one side. “Do you remember your first day teaching? The very first time you stepped in front of that classroom?”

“Yes.” She’d been shaking and nearly sick to her stomach.

“What did you do? Tell the kids you were scared and ask them to take it easy on you?”

“Of course not. They would’ve seen that as weakness and I never would have been able to control the classroom.” Ah. She saw his point. Sort of. “But this is different. I’m not teaching the horse anything.”

“Sure you are. You’re teaching them that you can be trusted. That you aren’t going to do anything to hurt them.”

His words sounded logical. But that didn’t stop her from jumping when the nearest horse, the male, moved. Oscar closed one hand over her wrist, the warmth both surprising and calming her.

“Easy. He smells the treat you’ve got.”

The horse stepped toward her, and swung that enormous head in her direction. She barely restrained her flinch, but managed to keep her feet rooted to the ground and not run away.

“Should I give it to him?” She could barely force the words out, couldn’t find breath at all.

“Yes.” Oscar chuckled and reached behind her to press down gently on her shoulders, one at a time. Manually relaxing her posture.

Her hand shook badly, but the horse didn’t seem to care as it slurped the apple piece out of her hand with a soft “whuff” of air against her palm.

“She’s watching him. Even if she isn’t looking, she knows that he got a treat from your hand and nothing bad happened. We can use Pharaoh to teach the mare that you’re safe.”