A Lady Like Sarah (13 page)

Not usually one for false modesty, Sarah was uncharacterÂistically hesitant to agree. Something was at work in her life that she couldn't fully understand.

"I had a little help," she allowed.

"Help?"
Justin stared at her as if he hadn't heard right. "You aren't suggesting
that.
. .?"
He pointed upward.

She blushed. She hated showing any sign of vulnerabilÂity or weakness in front of her brothers, and such talk would clearly qualify as both where they were concerned.

"Now don't go
thinkin
' I'm a saint or
anythin
' just '
cuz
I had a divine interruption."

"Intervention," Justin said gently. "And somehow the word
saint
never came to mind." Thinking she heard a touch of humor in his voice, she eyed him warily. His face told her he was perfectly serious.

George and the others walked back to camp.
"Miracles?
Divine interventions?"
George mimicked. "You sure ain't
soundin
' like yourself. I think this here preacher has done gone and messed with your brain."

"No one's messed with my brain," Sarah snapped. "I know what I know, and I'm
tellin
' you,
findin
' that goat was a miracle."

George exchanged glances with Jed but said nothing. Instead, he reached into his vest pocket and drew out a square of brown paper and a rawhide pouch. After rolling a cigarette, he poked a stick into the hot embers and used the glowing red tip to light it.

The five of them stood around the baby, staring down at her.

Nothing ever happened, it seemed, that Justin didn't have a corresponding Bible story to match. So it came as no
suÂprise
to Sarah when he likened their finding Elizabeth to the Pharaoh's daughter finding a baby in the river Nile. "She took that babe home and raised him as her own son."

"Don't tell me," Sarah said, guessing. "The baby's name was Moses."

As if to acknowledge his namesake, Moses the mule gave a loud hee-haw, and Sarah and Justin roared with laughter. After the harrowing day, their laughter offered a welcome release. It also chased away any lingering tension between them.

Her brothers, not knowing the mule's name, stared at them as if they'd been nipping at a loco plant.

Wiping the tears from her eyes, Sarah explained, "Robert, Jed,
George
. Meet Moses, the mule."

Though Robert and Jed chuckled upon learning the mule's name, George continued to stare at her with an odd expression.

Later, George shot a rabbit, and while it roasted over the fire, Robert took Sarah by the elbow and led his sister a short distance away from the others. "Are you
gonna
keep that baby?" he whispered in her ear.

Surprised by the question, she quickly turned to face
him.
"Are
you
joshin' me?
What am
I gonna do
with
a baby?"

"I thought maybe you planned on marrying yourself a preacher. Be one of those respectable ladies that serves tea and makes quilts."

"That'll be the day," she said dully, feeling a sudden longÂing inside that she couldn't name.

Robert studied her thoughtfully. "You aren't sweet on the preacher, are you?"

Feeling her cheeks grow warm, she scowled furiously. "I ain't gone sweet on
nobody
," she said. It had been a long, hard day, and she was in no mood for such ridiculous nonsense. She walked away to rejoin the others.

A lone wolf howled, and George stared into the darkness. "We're as good as sitting ducks out here. Jed, you better keep watch. We'll leave first thing in the morning."

Justin looked straight at George. "I could use some help burying the victims. It doesn't feel right not to give them a proper burial."

George hesitated. He clearly didn't want to play the part of undertaker, but whether out of gratitude to Justin for savÂing Sarah's life or simply out of respect for a man of God, he reluctantly agreed. "How long will it take?"

"With four of us working, it shouldn't take more than an hour or two. If we start at the first light, we should be done in no time."

"I
wanna
be out of here as close to sunup as possible."

Justin nodded.
"Understood."
He glanced at Sarah as if asking permission for something. "Sarah told me about her trouble in Rocky Creek," he began.

George gave Sarah the look of a disapproving parent. "Did she, now?"

"I offered to help in any way I could."

A cloud of annoyance darkened George's face. "That's
mighty nice of you, Reverend, but as long as my little sister stays with us and does what I tell her, we won't be
needin
' your assistance."

Feathery lines deepened at the corners of Justin's eyes. "Have you considered asking Washington for help? President Hayes has pardoned more people than any other president. I'm sure if you make the case that she wasn't given a proper trial, he'll relent."

George discounted the idea with a wave of his hand. "I doubt that Hayes would do
somethin
' so unpopular as to pardon a Prescott." He turned his attention to Sarah. "We've wasted a lot of time
trackin
' you down," he said, his voice low so as to be heard by her ears only. "We missed a big Wells Fargo shipment, and I ain't
aimin
' to miss another."

Sarah glanced at Justin, who watched from a distance. As if to guess what George said to her, he turned and walked away.

The following morning, Sarah woke to angry voices.

"I ain't doing it," Jed shouted. "I'm done!"

In the silver light of dawn, Sarah scrambled out of her bedroll and hurried to join the men. "
Shh
, you'll wake the baby." She turned to Jed. "What are you so riled up about?"

"Your preacher friend insists that we bury that dead Indian, and I ain't
doin
' it."

Justin leaned on his shovel, his stance every bit as stubÂborn as Jed's. "Everyone deserves a proper burial."

Jed shook his head in disgust and shuddered. "After what those savages did to that poor family—"

"Maybe if we stopped pushing Indians off their land, they wouldn't feel the need for revenge," Justin said quietly.

"That's not revenge," Jed spit out. "That's cold-blooded murder."

"Jed should know," Sarah said. "When it comes to revenge, us Prescotts are experts."

Jed whirled around to face her. "We rob stages. We don't kill people." He kicked a mound of dirt and started back to camp.

George gestured impatiently. "I say we stop jawing and finish the job. I want to hit the trail."

Without another word, Justin resumed digging.

Sarah glanced at the body of the Indian and quickly turned away. It was the Comanche custom to lay their dead to rest in caves, but they were miles away from the nearest mountain. They had no choice but to bury him in the ground.

Knowing that Justin would want to do everything right, she said, "Break his weapon and bury it with him."

Justin stopped digging and looked up.

Robert explained, "Everything a Comanche owns is buried with him so he'll have it with him in the afterlife."

George pushed back his hat. "I don't think he's
gonna
need it where he's
goin
'."

Justin scooped a shovel full of dirt and tossed it behind him. "That's for God to decide, not us."

Sarah walked back to camp and checked on Elizabeth, who was still asleep. Knowing that she would soon be riding off with her brothers, she found herself close to tears. A searÂing pain shot through her, lodging in her chest.

In a very short time, this tiny babe had managed to work her way into Sarah's heart. How was such a thing possible?

Staring down at the child, Sarah pondered the future. How would Elizabeth react upon learning how her mama was killed? Would she seek revenge as Sarah's brothers had done? Or would she, instead, choose Justin's way and leave things in God's hands?

Sarah closed her eyes and imagined Elizabeth all grown up. But the life she envisioned for Elizabeth, hoped for her, wanted for her, was nothing like the reality of her own life.

"Dear little one," she whispered, "choose Justin's way. You hear?"

She left Elizabeth's side and made a fresh pot of coffee, but she couldn't shake off the depression that settled over her like a dark cloud.

The sun rose, its golden rays spilling across the flower- decked prairie like warm honey, but even the cheery brightÂness failed to lift her spirits.

The air was eerily still, without so much as the trill of a bird to break the silence. The quiet pastoral scene seemed all wrong for the grisly task of burying the dead.

In the distance, Justin and her brothers stood in a circle, George and Robert with their hats on their chests. Justin lifted the Indian's arrow above his head, holding it with both hands. He snapped it in two and tossed it into the grave.

Across the way, a flock of curlews suddenly took to the air with piercing cries that ended in a long, drawn-out whistling sound.

Watching them, an inexplicable chill shot through her. Her neck prickled. She dropped down and grabbed her weapon from her bedroll.

Jed crouched next to her, hands on his own shooting iron. "What's wrong?"

"I think I saw
somethin
' move in those there trees."

Jed shaded his eyes against the sun.
"I don't see nothin'.
Maybe it was a deer."

Would a deer frighten away birds, she wondered?
Maybe.
"You don't think they'll come back, do you?" she whispered.

"The
Comanches
?
Nah.
They got what they want. They won't be back."

"They don't usually leave their dead behind," she said.

"It was a small band.
Probably had their hands full
stealin
' the animals."

Elizabeth cried out, and Sarah rushed to her side.

Jed's assurances did little to ease her nerves. While she changed and fed Elizabeth, she kept her weapon handy at her side and her eyes and ears alert.

The others
returned,
their faces grim. Justin tucked his Bible into Moses' saddle while George and Robert helped themselves to the freshly brewed coffee.

After washing and changing his shirt, Justin took over the care of Elizabeth.

"How's my girl?" he said, jostling the baby up and down.

"Careful, she just ate," Sarah cautioned, but her warning came too late. Elizabeth spit up all over him.

This meant having to change the baby again, which Justin attempted to do with great difficulty. Sarah watched in dismay as he struggled to get the baby in and out of her clothes. Finally, unable to watch a moment longer, she took over the task herself.

She
kept her back toward Justin so he couldn't see her own awkward efforts in fitting the garment over the baby's head and working her little arms into the sleeves.

A short while later, she sidled up next to George.
"I'm worried about
leavin
' Justin by himself," she said. Now that he had a baby to care for, his journey was all that more difficult.

"He's not your problem," George replied gruffly.

"It's not just him," she said. "I'm worried about Elizabeth."

"What do you want me to do about it?"

"I want us to stay with them," she beseeched.
"Just to the Texas border."

George tossed the dregs of his coffee into the dying fire. "We've wasted enough time
trackin
' you down, girl. There's a big shipment of gold
headin
' toward Abilene, and if we don't hurry, it will be loaded on the train and sent
East
before we get there. We ain't got
no
more time to waste."

George motioned to Jed with a toss of his head, and the
two of them picked up their saddles and headed for the horses. Robert stayed behind and waited until he was alone with Sarah.

"It's not too late, sis," he said earnestly. "You can change your name. Move to the city. Find yourself a good man,"

She
squeezed Robert's arm.
She
always felt closest to Robert, who was only two years older. George showed her how to fish and shoot, but it
was Robert who taught her to read and write
.

"What would a good man want with the likes of me?"

"I'm serious, Sarah. Do you ever think about what life would be like if we didn't belong to the Prescott family?"

"I think about it," she said truthfully. "I think about it as often as a goose goes barefoot. But
thinkin
'
don't
make it so. We are who we are, and ain't nothin'
goin
' to change that."

Jed called to her. "Ready, Sarah?"

"Be there in a minute," Sarah called back.

She was painfully aware that Justin stood a short distance away, staring at her,
a
world of emotions in his eyes.

It hurt to think she might never see him again, hurt more than she ever thought possible. A lump rose in her throat, and she closed her eyes so as not to look at him. If she did, she feared that propriety wouldn't have a chance against the overÂwhelming need to feel his lips on hers once again before she left, this time for good.