Sarah's Heart (27 page)

“I can do whatever I
want, and you can’t stop me.” Horace held clenched fists at his side. His eyes
conveyed anger.

 
A little voice inside told
Sarah to walk away.

“Maybe you can get
away with being rude and unkind elsewhere.” She turned a deaf ear to reason.
“But while you are in my classroom and anywhere around it, you will behave like
a gentleman. I will not tolerate anything less. These children,” she gestured
to those playing behind her, “come here to learn, not to be frightened by you.
If you can’t behave, then leave.”

Horace took a step
forward, his gaze locked with hers in a piercing battle. For a moment, behind
the anger, she glimpsed something else, and her fear lessened.
But only until his cheeks reddened and his eyes widened to the
point of popping.
Without a word, he raised both hands and shoved her
with all his might.

Sarah hit the ground
with a resounding plop. The fall jarred her teeth and stunned her for a moment.
Her backside smarted.

Horace turned and
stormed out of the schoolyard. Henry peered down at her from beneath arched
brows, shrugged, then trudged after his brother.

“You ain’t seen the
last of me,” Horace hollered over his shoulder.

Children scampered
to Sarah’s side with Emily surfacing to the forefront. “Are you all right, Miss
Collins?”

Sarah rolled to her
knees and stood, brushing dirt from her skirt and trying to hide her
embarrassment. “Yes, I’m fine, Emily. You and the other children go back to
what you were doing. Recess is almost over.”

Bemoaning her sore
behind, Sarah crossed back to the schoolhouse. She’d expected to have to
discipline someone sooner or later, but never once thought she’d be mistreated.
Horace’s words played in her mind. The boy was a cannonball, about to explode,
and she feared what she’d experienced was just the lighting of the fuse.

Chapter Twenty-Six

“It was the way he
looked at me…as if he wished me dead, that made my heart pound like a hammer
against an anvil. For a moment I feared he’d hit me, but instead, he pushed me
down.” Sarah lifted the flowered teacup from its saucer and took a sip. Her
trembling fingers caused the brew to slosh about.

Maggie’s eyes
widened as she peered around a freshly laundered tablecloth she held in midair.
“You mean that ruffian actually shoved you to the ground?”

“It’s probably my
fault.” Sarah shifted in her seat, her buttocks still sore from her hard
landing.

Maggie lifted an
inquiring brow. “How do you figger that?” She tucked the middle edge of the
red-checked material beneath her chin and folded the corners together. “Don’t
sound like you did anything wrong.” She doubled the cloth again and added it to
her stack.

“I shouldn’t have
pressed Horace. After all, it was my first day.” Sarah’s gaze followed her
friend into the hallway where Maggie placed the laundry basket at the bottom of
the stairs.

“Well, if you don’t
let them know you’re in control from the beginnin’,
then
you’re makin’ a big mistake.” Maggie’s muted voice drifted from the other room,
but grew louder with her return. She folded her arms and cocked her head.
“Besides, I don’t know the Given’s boys by sight, but I’ve run across the
grandfather in the mercantile a few times. He’s an ornery old cuss. A little
short of manners, I’d say.”

“Well, he’s
certainly taught his grandsons to follow in his footsteps, although I think
it’s more Horace than Henry. It appears that the younger of the two doesn’t
have a thought
of his own
.”

Maggie poured
herself a cup of tea and sat across from Sarah. “You just watch out for
yourself, young lady. Elijah Woods ruled that schoolroom with an iron fist, but
he had the strength and stature to back it up. If Horace Givens causes any more
trouble, you let the school board handle it. Promise me.”

“But, if I….”

“Sarah!” Maggie’s
voice held a scolding tone reminiscent of Sarah’s mother.

“Oh, all right. I
promise. But I saw something more in that boy’s eyes than defiance and hatred.
Someone has hurt him badly.”

Maggie blew on her
steaming brew. “You can’t fix everyone, Sarah. Work with those who welcome your
help.”

How ironic that
Maggie would mention Sarah’s lot in life. Fixing people seemed to be her number
one priority. First trying to heal her parents, and then struggling to save
their homestead…nursing Molly, and defending Wolf—the sweet, wonderful man.
Maybe Maggie was right. Sarah failed in each of her endeavors, even her latest
attempt to insinuate herself into Wolf’s life or change the way others
perceived him. How could she possibly help Horace?

She sighed, lowering
her head at unbidden memories of Wolf’s sweet lips. Despite trying to put him
out of her mind, her heart still ached for him. “You’re right, Maggie, she
mumbled. “Perhaps you should have applied for the teaching job. You seem to be
much better at seeing the obvious than I am.”

Reaching across the
table, Maggie patted Sarah’s hand. “You’re thinking about him again, aren’t
you?”

Sarah sat upright.
“Who?”

“Wolf.”

“No, I’m not. I was
just….”

“You were jes
thinkin’ of Wolf. Admit it, Sarah. The way you look when someone mentions his
name or stirs a memory speaks more than words. You love the man.”

Sarah’s lips
fluttered in an exhalation of surprise. She closed her eyes and massaged the
area between them. “I admit it.
But
I’m trying hard not to love him.”

“Why? He’s a good
and decent man.”

Sarah opened tearing
eyes and tightened her lips to still their quivering. She took a moment to
compose herself. “You know and appreciate him for who he is while others only
see someone of mixed blood. His heritage doesn’t matter to me, and I’ve told
him that. I believe he refuses to accept my affection because I’m not worthy of
him. After all, I left him to die.”

Maggie’s eyes
resembled saucers. “What?”

Feeling stifled by
guilt all over again, Sarah described her first encounter with Wolf.
Afterwards, she pulled a hankie from her sleeve and blotted at tears. “When I
finally realized what I’d done, there was no way I could tell him.” She paused
and blew her nose. “I’d be a fool to believe he’d ever love me after what I
did.” Rising, she walked to the window and stared outside. Her stomach rumbled
at the delicious aroma wafting from the stove. She clutched her middle to still
the noise.

 
“Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

Sarah turned and
faced Maggie. “Do you think I’m proud of myself? I had absolutely no problem
walking away and leaving him there on the ground. But then he happened along
and saved me. How do I repay him for that?”

Maggie shook her
head. “I don’t think Wolf would expect anything in return. That’s the kind of
man he is. But you’re bein’ too hard on yourself. After all you’d been through?
I think anyone in your place would’ve been leery about savin’ someone they
thought might be part of the war party that attacked the wagon train. How could
you have known?”

Like salve on a
blister, Maggie words soothed Sarah’s mind and gave her hope. “Do you think he
would see it that way?”

The elder woman
laughed. “Wolf’s pretty smart. I’m sure he wouldn’t have toted you all the way
here if he was the kind who harbored ill feelings. Lord, knows he’s had plenty
a reason to hold a grudge. Besides, I think he’s kinda sweet on you, too.”

Sarah waved the
thought away. “You’re wrong, Maggie. I’ve tried to let him know in so many ways
that I want to be more than a friend, but he isn’t interested.
He as much as said so.”

“Pshaw,” Maggie
tutted, leaning back in her chair. “If he was in town I’m sure he’d be here. Of
course, he’d have some good excuse for the visit, but I’d know the real reason.
Just give him some time, dear. When Wolf finds out that you’re goin’ to the
dance with Jonathan, he’ll be fit to be tied.” Her tittering jiggled the round
belly beneath her apron.

“Speaking of
Jonathan…” Sarah looked around the room. “I haven’t seen him lately. Isn’t this
where he usually makes his unexpected appearance?” She chuckled.

“Oh, he’ll meander
in around suppertime, I suppose. He’s out on another one of his land-seekin’
excursions—said not to hold up servin’ on his account, he’d eat when he got
back.”

Sarah heaved a heavy
sigh. “Oh Maggie, I’m not sure I should have accepted his invitation to the
dance.”

“I’m glad you did.
Why not go and have a good time? A young gal like you needs to dress up and
have an evenin’ out once in a while. It’ll do you good. Get you mind off Wolf
and….”

“If it’s such a good
idea, why aren’t you going? It’s a pre-harvest celebration…and there’s bound to
be some eligible men there.” Sarah smiled and winked.

“Lordy, unless
they’re payin’ for room and board, I ain’t interested be they single or
otherwise. I’ve loved one man in my life and, in my
opinion,
no one can fill his boots.”

“I didn’t know that.
I just assumed you….”

“You figured I was
an old maid who knew nothin’ about romance.” Maggie rose and carried the cups
and saucers to the dishpan. She primed the pump then filled the metal container
with water, and turned. “I married Hosea Smith nigh onto forty years ago. When
he died five years later, I vowed to wed no one else, and I ain’t lookin’.”

“No one said you had
to find a new husband. You could go and mingle with the townsfolk.” Sarah
actually liked the idea of having a chaperone.

“I can do that at
the mercantile and church when I go. I’m tired at days end and I’ve never been
light on my feet.” She turned back to the pan and began washing dishes.
“Besides, I have a business to tend. You can’t run off and leave your guests. I
have another two coming in on the evening stage.”

Sarah stood and
yawned, stretching her arms over her head. “All right, you’ve convinced me.
I’ll not nag you further. I’m going upstairs and freshen up a bit, but I’ll be
down shortly to help with dinner.”

“No need. There’s a
ham in the oven and it’s almost done. I have only to slice up a few tomatoes,
some bread and brew a fresh pot of coffee. A light meal seemed like a good idea
tonight.”

Sarah nodded.
“Sounds fine to me.”

She trudged
upstairs, more tired than she realized, and plopped across her bed. Rolling
onto her back, she starred at the ceiling, juggling the thoughts that weighed
heavy on her mind: Horace Givens and going to the dance with Jonathan. Both
might well put her in a very uncomfortable position.

* * *

Sarah bustled around
her room, readying for the pre-harvest gala, and looking for the small combs
she often wore in her hair. They matched the dark piping on her emerald dress
and were the final accents to her attire. She searched the armoire, then knelt
and fished in the valise stashed on the floor.
If only she
could recall where she put the blasted things.

 
She paused, allowing her thoughts to turn to
her first week at school. A smile tugged at her lips. Horace and Henry hadn’t
been back, and things went smoothly without them. The other children seemed
eager to learn, obeyed her rules, and were a source of joy with their hugs and
laughter. She sat back on her heels, her chest swelling with pride at feeling
like a
real
teacher.

 
Since chastising Jonathan during his visit to
the classroom, it appeared he followed her suggestion and thought before he
spoke. He’d been a perfect gentleman, and despite Sarah’s earlier misgivings,
she felt positive about accompanying him to the dance.
At
least for the moment.

“Oh, there you are.”
She eyed ebony edges, pulled the pronged culprits from her bag and with effort,
whisked her full petticoats aside and stood. Smoothing her skirt, she returned
to the mirror and wiggled the combs into the hair above her ears.

She tucked an errant
strand back into her snood and gave the wispy ringlets framing her face one
last twist. Her appearance pleased her, but her choice of escort really didn’t.
No matter how she shoveled the manure, that’s all it was. Jonathan was nice
enough, but he wasn’t Wolf.

Her reflection
blurred as she drifted back to the time he held her in his arms. As much as she
wanted to be in his embrace, it seemed fruitless to waste time wishing. She
shrugged off the memory, watching her image sharpen in the mirror once again.
After dabbing some sweet-smelling toilet water behind her ears and in the
hollow of her throat, she cast a stern look at herself. “Sarah Collins, it’s
time to stop acting so pitiful and pining over someone who clearly doesn’t want
you. You
will
go to this dance and have a good time with Jonathan. Don’t
make him sorry he invited you.”

She picked up the
reticule she’d purchased the same day she’d bought her dress for the dance.
There was nothing but a lace handkerchief inside it, but so many ladies carried
the stylish pouches, she wanted to look as fashionable. As she suspended it
from her arm, she wondered what one might find inside those belonging to other
women. Staying in step with fashion these days was like catching a stagecoach.
If you didn’t pay attention, you got left behind.