Paper Roses (5 page)

She didn’t have to spell out the reason. The tremor in her voice was more eloquent than a thousand words would have been. Sarah was afraid. Had he suffered the same injury, he probably would fear horses too. Fear was a normal reaction. What amazed Clay was that she had admitted it. That wasn’t normal, not for Sarah. For a woman as determined to be self-sufficient as Sarah Dobbs was, admitting any weakness had to be difficult.

Clay thought quickly. She couldn’t walk; she wouldn’t ride; that left only one option. “I’ll teach you to drive the wagon,” he told her. That would accomplish two objectives. She’d be independent, and he would be able to avoid seeing her and Thea. “For today, though, I’ll take you into town. There are a couple things I need to do there.” Foremost of which was learning whether Michel Ladre had made any progress in finding Austin’s killer.

Today, since he wasn’t expecting Clay, that miserable excuse for a mayor and Ladreville’s only pretender to the title of sheriff might be in his office. Whenever they had an appointment, by some strange coincidence, Michel always left on an important errand mere minutes before Clay arrived. Perhaps today would be different.

Sarah took a deep breath, trying to quell the fear that had been a frequent companion for the past six months. It would have been different if she’d been alone. Sarah knew how to care for herself, but caring for Thea changed everything. A small child demanded constant attention, a combination of entertainment and vigilance. Though it was more exhausting than she’d dreamed possible, Sarah thought she’d been successful. Until this morning. How on earth had she slept through Thea’s waking?

“Horsey.” Thea giggled as she pointed toward the animals pulling the wagon. Clay had apologized for the absence of a buggy, explaining that when it had fallen into disrepair after his mother’s death no one had seen a need to replace it.

“That’s right, sweetie.” Sarah kept her arm around her sister. Though her heartbeat had returned to normal, the memory of waking and realizing she was alone in the cabin lingered. She’d been fortunate. Thea had not been in danger. When Sarah had found her sister, Thea had been giggling and holding onto Clay as if she belonged in his arms. But she didn’t. Clay’s expression and the unmistakable way he’d avoided looking at Thea during breakfast told Sarah the man did not like children. That was one reason she kept Thea close to her. She had promised not to be a burden, and that was a promise she intended to keep. Somehow she’d find a way to earn money, to prevent Thea from bothering Clay and, most importantly, to ensure her sister’s safety.

Sarah took another deep breath, forcing back the fear of failure. The future—her future and Thea’s—was waiting across the river in Ladreville, Texas.

“Look, Thea. Houses.”

The town was not what she had expected. Of course, Sarah had to admit, nothing in Texas had been what she had expected. She had expected a bridegroom and a peaceful existence in the house he’d built for them. Instead . . .

Sarah forced a smile onto her face. She couldn’t change the past. All she could do was create a future. And she would. She’d find a future for her and Thea in this town that was so different from San Antonio, Philadelphia, and every other city she’d seen.

Sarah’s smile became genuine as she realized that Ladreville looked like a storybook come to life. The two-story half-timbered buildings with their steeply pitched roofs made her think she’d stepped into the pages of one of her German books.

Sarah’s smile broadened as she remembered how often Mama had spoken of taking her and Thea on the Grand Tour. The family would not make that trip, but it appeared that Sarah and Thea would be living in a small piece of Europe. Surely that was a good sign.

“Pretty.”

It was indeed. Though Austin had written that the town had been founded by Alsatian immigrants, he’d neglected to mention that the settlers had replicated their European architecture in Texas.

“This is the Hochstrasse,” Clay said. He’d been silent for most of the trip, preoccupied, Sarah surmised, with thoughts of whatever it was he hoped to accomplish in town. “That’s ‘high street’ in German,” he added. “From what I’ve heard, almost every German town had a Hochstrasse.”

Sarah saw no reason to tell Clay she didn’t need the translation and that she was familiar with German street names. Instead, she smiled again, then looked down the road. Ladreville, although considerably smaller than San Antonio, was spotlessly clean and appeared to be prosperous, its main street lined with houses, shops, and two gleaming white steeples.

Though she wouldn’t have expected a town this small to have two churches, Sarah suspected that was the result of the centuries-old enmity between France and Germany, an enmity that had resulted in wars and in Alsace, the townspeople’s former home, being traded back and forth between the two countries. Ladreville, Sarah could see by the names on the storefronts, had both German and French settlers. Those settlers, she guessed, worshiped in separate churches.

As Thea bounced with excitement, Sarah pulled her onto her lap, pointing out early blooming flowers and a sausage-shaped dog. The town was not only a mélange of France and Germany, it was also a mixture of Europe and America. Older women dressed in European-style garb walked briskly toward the center of town, some accompanied by their daughters. The younger girls, unlike their mothers, wore clothing that would not have been out of place in Philadelphia.

Sarah and Thea, it appeared, would not be shunned for their attire. Even more importantly, as San Antonio had, Ladreville exuded an unmistakable air of vitality. Looking at the town and seeing Thea’s excitement, Sarah felt her fears subside, replaced by the sweet taste of hope. Perhaps their future, though far different from the one she’d imagined, would be a good one.

While Clay remained silent, Thea chattered as the wagon rumbled further down the street, stopping in front of a store with a large plate glass window. No sign was necessary, for the merchandise in the window announced that this was Ladreville’s mercantile. The proprietors, Clay had told Sarah, were named Rousseau. A small plate on the door confirmed that.

When he’d helped Sarah and Thea alight, Clay touched the brim of his hat. “I’ll be back in an hour.”

As soon as her feet touched the ground, Thea started to skip. Had she been able, Sarah would have joined her. Instead, she grabbed her sister’s hand and opened the door.

“Bonjour, madame.”
Though both a man and a woman stood behind the counter, it was the petite brunette who greeted Sarah.

As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, Sarah smiled at the young woman. A few inches shorter than her own five feet four, she also appeared to be several years younger. A quick glance at the woman’s ringless hands told Sarah she was unmarried. Her own gloves and the presence of Thea, who was young enough to be her daughter, had made the proprietor believe Sarah was married.

“Bonjour, mademoiselle
,” Sarah said in the French she’d perfected during those long years when everyone had feared she’d never walk again
. “Je suis Mademoiselle Sarah Dobbs.”

The brunette’s eyes widened in surprise. “Miss Dobbs, of course.” She switched to only slightly accented English. “Austin told Léon about you.” Gesturing toward the man who remained behind the counter, she said, “Léon, come meet Austin’s . . .” The woman’s voice trailed off, and the flush staining her face told Sarah she wasn’t certain how to categorize Sarah, since the word
fiancée
no longer applied.

“Isabelle, tais-toi.”

Isabelle glared at the man whose resemblance, not to mention the familiar way he addressed her, marked him as her brother.

“I’m so sorry for your loss, Miss Dobbs,” she said. Despite her brother’s admonition, it was obvious she had no intention of remaining silent. “Austin was a wonderful man.”

“And a good friend,” her brother chimed in. “We all miss him.”

Clearly bored by the adults’ conversation, Thea reached toward the counter, her small hands grabbing at a glass jar. Sarah captured both hands in hers and nodded at Isabelle and Léon. “Perhaps some other time you can tell me more about him. Today I need . . .” Thea jerked her hand free. “No, Thea. You can’t touch that.”

“What can I get for you, Miss Dobbs?” As Isabelle gestured toward the shelves lining the back of the store, two women entered the store. Though they conversed softly, Sarah realized they were speaking German. “We have almost everything you could want,” Isabelle continued. As she stationed herself behind the counter, Sarah noticed that Isabelle was wearing a small gold cross around her neck. Instinctively, Sarah touched her own collar. It wasn’t there, of course. She’d removed the cross the day Reverend Lang had told her Papa could not be buried in hallowed ground.

Blinking rapidly to keep her tears from falling, Sarah said, “I need some thread.” Thank goodness her voice did not betray her sorrow. “I’m afraid I used my entire supply mending Thea’s clothing on the journey West.”

Though she knew all too well the dangers of eavesdropping, Sarah couldn’t help noticing that when Léon approached the women and attempted to serve them, his command of the German language appeared to consist of nothing more than a greeting. The women’s English was equally limited.

“What color would you like?” Isabelle pulled out a tray of thread.

As Sarah selected a spool of black, she gave the brunette another smile. Isabelle appeared friendly, and as someone who worked in the store, she was in a position to overhear many conversations. Perhaps she could help with Sarah’s other needs. “There is something else,” she told the young French-woman. “Austin’s death changed my situation, and now I must find a way to earn my room and board. Do you know of anyone in Ladreville who might be looking for help?”

Isabelle’s expression was doubtful. She fingered the cross around her neck, then smiled. “I’ll ask Maman. She knows everyone’s business.” With a nod toward the door that Sarah surmised led to the Rousseaus’ dwelling, Isabelle said, “It’ll take only a moment.”

Sarah bent down to ruffle Thea’s hair. Thank goodness the child appeared content to sit on the floor and play with her doll. Above them the conversation between the German women and Léon continued. Everyone, it was clear, was frustrated, and the women appeared to be on the verge of leaving the store.

A glimmer of an idea danced before Sarah’s eyes. Carefully she rose and turned toward the women. “Perhaps I might assist you,” she offered in fluent German.

A smile lit the older of the two women’s faces.
“Sie spricht
deutsch!”
she announced to her companion.

“Ja. Ich spreche deutsch.”
Sarah smiled at the potential customers. “I would be honored to help you.” Excitedly, the two women began to speak at the same time. Sarah held up a cautionary hand to slow the barrage of words, then relayed their requests to Léon one by one. By the time Isabelle and her mother arrived, Léon had a large pile of purchases assembled on the counter.

Madame Rousseau stared at her son. “What happened?” she demanded in French. “Frau Bauer and Frau Kentzel have never bought so much.”

Léon nodded toward Sarah. “Miss Dobbs helped them. She speaks German.”

“Evidemment.”
Madame Rousseau gave Sarah an appraising look. It was only after the two German women had left, their arms filled with purchases, that Isabelle’s mother addressed Sarah. “My daughter told me you were in search of work. I regret . . .”

Sarah could see the older woman searching for the correct English word. “I also speak French,” she told Madame Rousseau in her native tongue.

“That is most unusual for an American.” Madame Rousseau managed a small smile before her face turned serious again. “I regret that I have no suggestions for you, mademoiselle. Ladreville is a small town. We have simple needs.”

Thea, who had been sitting quietly at Sarah’s feet, chose that moment to scramble to her feet and run toward the door. “Excuse me, madame,” Sarah said as she grabbed Thea’s arm. “My sister is still excited about being in a new place.”

“I understand.” Madame Rousseau shook her head slowly. “I wish I could help you.”

The thoughts that whirled through Sarah’s mind began to crystallize. “I believe, madame, that I could help you.” When the woman looked skeptical, Sarah said, “This is Ladreville’s only store, is it not?”

Madame Rousseau nodded.

Sarah gestured toward the front door. “I assume from the fact that this street has a German name that German residents outnumber the French.”

Another nod, this one accompanied by an expression of curiosity.

“Correct me if I am wrong, but it appears that no one in your family speaks German.”

A third nod.

Sarah’s confidence rose. This could be the solution to her problem. “As you’ve seen, I speak both French and German. If you would hire me to work here, the increased sales should more than offset the wages you would pay me.”

Before Madame Rousseau could reply, both of her children began to speak.

“Then you wouldn’t need me, Maman.” Léon grinned as he touched his mother’s arm. “I could work for Karl Friedrich.” “Don’t you see, Maman,” Isabelle said, her expression more earnest than her brother’s. “Miss Dobbs is the answer to our prayers.”