A Lady Like Sarah (15 page)

He studied her, a look of sadness in his eyes. He nodded but, nonetheless, pressed the money into her palm. "Take it for the baby's sake," he said, nodding toward Elizabeth asleep
on a bedroll. He winked at her. "A well-placed bribe can get you—and your little orphan—out of a heap of trouble."

Forcing a smile, she tucked the money into her pocket. He was right; it might come in handy at that.

Robert pecked her on the cheek and mounted his own horse, touching a finger to the brim of his hat. "Good luck, Sarah."

Jed handed her his holster and gave her a big hug. "Take care, you hear?"

She
nodded. "See you soon." Her spirits sank as she watched the three men gallop away. "I love you all," she called after them, waving until they were mere specks in the distance.

Justin put a hand on her shoulder. "Thank you for stayÂing," he
said,
his voice low.

She turned to face him, soaking up the warmth of his eyes like flowers in the sun. "They raised me. Taught me everything I know," she said, her voice hoarse. "I love my brothers. I know what they do ain't right."

"Forcing you to be part of that is also not right."

"I never actually robbed a stage," she said. "George said I was a girl and girls have no business on the front lines. He told us we were only
takin
' what was ours." Her voice broke. "We believed him.
I
believed him."

"You were a child when your parents died," he said simply. "You had no choice but to believe what he told you."

She bit her lip, determined to hold back her tears. She loved her brothers with all her heart, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to defend them, even to
herself
. Still, old habits die hard, and though she hated what her family had become, she couldn't bring herself to turn her back on them. Not completely.

"My brothers, they would do
anything.
. . anything in the world for me." Feeling at once embarrassed and ashamed, she
lowered her lashes.
"All these years they've cared for me and protected me."

He lifted her chin, forcing her to look at him. "Sarah." The touch of his fingers sent warm shivers coursing through her. "You have no idea what it means to be cared for," he said, his eyes soft.
"Or protected."

Something in his voice, in the way he made her tingle when he said her name, in the way he gazed at her, found a need so deeply buried that she hardly knew it existed.

She rested her head on his chest, dizzy with the scent of him. Suddenly—inexplicably—she found herself sobbing. Hot tears spread across the bib of his shirt in a widening circle.

She cried for the little girl who had lost her parents and who, at the time, had not been able to shed a tear. She cried for her brothers whom she feared she would never see again. She cried for the past she despised and the future she dreaded.

But most of all, she cried because she was twenty-two years of age—an old maid by some accounts—and she had never before been held like Justin was now holding her.

They traveled across the southeast corner of Kansas and into Indian
territory
, the boundaries dotted with government signs. It was now June, and the farther south they traveled, the hotter it got. Sarah's clothes clung to her body, and rivers of sweat trickled down her face. Despite the difficulties of travel, she was greatly relieved to leave the horrors of the wagon train behind.

Justin carried Elizabeth in a sling made from one of his shirts. Tied around his neck, the carrier cradled the baby next to his chest. This left his hands free to hold the reins. From time to time, he waved a kerchief up and down to fan the child.

He preferred carrying the baby to dealing with the goat, and Sarah let him. At times, it was a battle to get
Mira
to do what she wanted the goat to do, but she was better at it than Justin.

Elizabeth grew fussy, and Sarah was convinced it was because Mira's milk supply had dropped. She stroked the goat's side, trying to get it to relax. "I think
Mira
's plumb worn out from all the
walkin
'."

"Let's try strapping the goat onto your horse," Justin suggested.

"She ain't
gonna
like that much."

Justin lifted
Mira
by her front legs and Sarah grabbed the back, but it was all they could do to hold on to the struggling animal. They finally managed to force the goat on top of Blizzard, belly-down in front of the saddle. Forelegs dangling on one side, back legs down the other, Mira's bleats turned into high-pitched screams.

Blizzard whinnied and pawed the ground. Not to be left out, Noah snorted and let out a loud squeal followed by the mule's harsh cry. All the commotion woke Elizabeth, who immediately began to wail.

Battling with
Mira,
Justin was clearly out of his element. Sarah couldn't help but burst into laughter.

Amusement flickered in his
eyes,
and his mouth quirked upward. "The things they don't teach you in seminary." He shouted to be heard above the racket.

It took close to a half hour before the animals settled down enough to continue the journey.

Sarah mounted her horse. With one hand on the reins and the other on the goat, she followed Noah along a rutted trail,
Mira
grunting all the way.

Elizabeth slept fitfully during the next two hours,
then
she began to wail. Justin found a shady spot and dismounted. Laying Elizabeth beneath a tree, he then lifted
Mira
off Sarah's horse.

The goat wobbled around before finding its footing and began to graze.

"We have milk," Sarah cried after a while, clapping her hands together. She milked the goat and Elizabeth hungrily sucked on the nourishing cloth.

Justin sat on the grass next to Elizabeth and gently dabbed the milk from her mouth, cooing to her. When Elizabeth cooed back, Sarah laughed. "You two sound like a couple of doves," she said.

He grinned up at her, but his smile suddenly died. "What's that noise?"

Sarah stilled. "Sounds like someone
cryin
'," she said.

Justin jumped up and hurried through the brush. Elizabeth in her arms, Sarah quickly followed. The sobs grew louder.

"Over there," she called. She pointed to a man sitting beneath a tree, his hands covering his face.

Justin walked up to the distraught man. "Is there a probÂlem, sir?"

The man lifted his head and was clearly surprised to see them. A young man, no more than twenty or so, his red puffy eyes were filled with despair. Unruly sandy hair offered an odd contrast to his neatly clipped mustache.

The man showed no embarrassment at his emotional disÂplay, nor did he offer an apology. He simply glanced at Sarah and the baby in her arms and, hiding his face in his hands, started bawling again.

Justin dropped down on his haunches, his hand on the man's shoulder. "I'm Reverend Justin Wells and this is
Miss . . .
Sarah."

The man moved his hands away from his face. "Logan Hobbs," he
said,
his voice thick with anguish. Hobbs looked Justin square in the face. "Maybe you can tell me why God took my wife and baby."

"Your wife and baby . . . Are they—"

Hobbs nodded.
"Measles."

Justin sat back on his heels. "When did this happen?"

"A few days ago," Hobbs said, his voice choked.

"Where?"

"Fort Smith. There's an epidemic."

Justin glanced at Sarah, his face suddenly drained of color.

"So what's your answer, Preacher? Why did God have to go and take my family?"

"God didn't take your loved ones," Justin said gently. "He received them with open arms."

The man broke into fresh sobs.

Never had Sarah seen anyone so distraught, and her heart went out to the man. She didn't know how to comfort Hobbs, how to comfort anyone who had suffered such a terrible loss. Justin knew exactly how little or how much to say, his voice soft, his touch gentle, his words comforting.

Standing there watching him was like watching her whole world crumble. It was as if someone had removed a blindfold allowing her to see what had previously been hidden. Preaching wasn't just a profession with Justin. Not like being a farmer or blacksmith. It was a vital part of who he was. Maybe she always knew that about him. What she hadn't known—what she didn't want to know—was that if anything kept him from his calling, it could destroy him.
She
could destroy him.

Sensing that Elizabeth's presence only added to Hobbs's distress, she moved away and made camp. She couldn't stop thinking about Justin and the impossible situation she had put him in.

If only she wasn't a Prescott. Why hadn't someone helped her and her brothers through their grief following the loss of their parents?
Someone like Justin?
Would that have made the difference?

The town had pretty much turned their backs on her famÂily following her papa's hanging. By the time the truth of his innocence came out, it was too late. George wanted nothing to do with the townsfolk. She pushed her thoughts away with a sigh, but there was nothing to be done about the heaviness in her heart.

It was almost dark when she heard Hobbs ride away on his horse.

Justin joined her by the fire where she sat feeding Elizabeth and yawned. His face was
drawn,
the fine lines at the corner of his eyes a notch deeper.

"He okay?" she asked.

"I think so. I invited him to join us for supper, but he declined. He said he wanted to be alone."

She sighed.
"Poor man.
He's lucky we found him."

"God always sends the right people in time of need."

Anger spurted up like steam from a kettle. "He didn't send
no
right people to me and my brothers when we needed them," she retorted.

"He always sends the right people, Sarah. It's up to us to accept their help."

She wanted to believe what he said was true, but she couldn't remember much beyond the grief that consumed her following her parents' death. She bit her lip. "You told Hobbs that God didn't take his family."

Justin sat on a fallen log opposite her. "He didn't take yours either," he said. "But He did receive them."

A weight fell from her shoulders, and for the longest while all she could do was bathe in the comfort of her new knowledge. God didn't take her parents away from her, he didn't, and knowing that made all the difference in the world.

"Sarah . . ."
His voice was earnest, almost apologetic in tone. "I can't go to Fort Smith."

She stared at him. "You can't travel to Texas alone."

"I'd rather take my chances on the trail than chance Elizabeth getting measles."

"That's crazy talk."

He shrugged.
"Maybe.
But I lost two sisters to measles, and I'm not taking any chances."

She gasped in dismay. "Oh, Justin, I'm so sorry. I rattled on about my own losses and here you—"

"There was no way you could have known."

She leaned forward. "Measles is a terrible thing, but travelin' through the Nation ain't
no
picnic. So far we've been lucky, but luck is
unpredict'ble
as an unbroken horse."

"I think running into Hobbs might be a warning from God."

She swallowed hard, not knowing what to say.

He rested his elbows on his thighs, his hands clasped beneath his chin. He spoke in a low voice. "Their names were Louise and Claudia. They died in their early teens, within two days of each other. It was a terrible thing to live through. I was only eighteen when it happened, and I went crazy. I started drinking."

Her eyes widened. "
That don't
sound like you."

"I'm far from perfect, Sarah. Fortunately, God doesn't require perfection."

"Loss can sure ruin folks," she said. Look what it did to her brothers.
To her.

"Instead of turning to God, we try to comfort ourselves with worldly things," he said. "That's where the danger lies."

"What made you change?" she asked.

"The right person at the right time," he said. "One night, after getting drunk, I got beat up and was left in the gutter. I was in bad shape. To make matters worse, it was the middle of winter and I was freezing. I stumbled into a church for warmth. A woman stood on the altar and talked about coming to this country in chains as a young girl and how she was now free. She then sang 'Amazing Grace.' That's when I decided I wanted to be free too."

She studied him. "So who did God send?
The one who beat you up or the singer?"

He laughed. "I guess you could say both of them." His face grew serious. "God works through everything.
The good and the bad."

Sarah closed her eyes. How would it feel to be free? Free from the past? Free from the future? Free to
love . . .?
With a heavy sigh, she pushed the thought away, but the longing remained and her heart ached. "I don't blame you none for
worryin
'. If
anythin
' happened to Elizabeth . . ."
She
shudÂdered.
"If you ain't
goin
' to Fort Smith, then I ain't
goin
' neither."

"But I promised your brothers—"